#ta da one more before i gotta drive home

[nightsidewrestling]

D.U.D.E: Part 3 - Shamrocks & Shenanigans (Set in 2020)

Note: This is set in a universe where Men VS Women / Intergender matches can happen.

Chapter 1: here Chapter 2: here

Tags: @piratewithvigor @tantamount-treason @thedollmaker16

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places (those chapters will be marked as ‘Mature / sexual content’ just to be safe). Please inform me if you wish to be tagged or untagged from posts. If the text is in italics and orange it’s Kirby’s inner monologue. If the text is coloured but not in italics, it’s either dialogue or a P.O.V change (P.O.V changes will be in bold and translated dialogue will appear in square [ ] brackets), Key below. Quick note on Geia’s text colour: Yes I do know that as Greed she should be in yellow but I decided to colour the men’s dialogue yellow so Geia was changed to be pink like the other women in the story outside of the main 8.

The Main 8: Damo - Bio. Vi - Bio. Billie - Bio. Geia - Bio. Kirby - Bio. Honey - Bio. Eli - Bio. Sara - Bio.

Gluttony's P.O.V:

"Nope, just me, Mam and Da."

"Any boyfriend, girlfriend, fiancé?"

"That's very forward of you, Eddie."

"I just want to know if there's anyone, other than the girls and Damien, in your life."

"Nope, as far as I'm concerned, I'm by myself."

Eddie nods as he leans back, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he looks at Kirby.

"I have... had friends, back home, T.J, Mike and Yoshi. Haven't spoken to them since I left Wales, though, two years ago." She mutters.

"You have me," Eddie smiles softly before clearing his throat, "and Mox, if you need us, I'm always just a text or phone call away if you need me."

"You'll protect me?" She jokes, cocking an eyebrow as she looks at Eddie.

"Yeah. Sure on TV we're at war right now, but now I know what your 'Boss' is like, and he's an asshole by the way," Eddie grins, "I'm gonna keep you safe whether you like it or not."

"Don't be an ass, Eddie." She chuckles, struggling to keep a straight face as Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

"you're stuck with me today, kid, so you better get used to this asshole." He winks.

"I'm stuck with you. As in Mox dropped you off so you'll be with me all day?"

"Exactly, so put up and shut up. Where's your car anyway? We can talk and drive, get you to relax around me, too."

Kirby looks over at Eddie whilst they walk to the car. He glances over at her, smiling as he takes a drag of his cigarette, finishing it before getting into the car. The moment she turns the car on her music comes on, quiet but still loud enough to hear, 'The Have Nots' by House of Pain.

"Oh man, you listen to House of Pain?"

"Yeah, why? Do you want me to turn it off?"

"Nah, how do I turn it up?" Eddie asks, messing with the buttons and dials inside of the car before Kirby can give him an answer.

After an hour of silence from Kirby, Eddie snaps slightly at the lack of conversation.

"I know you can talk, so why the fuck have you given me nothing but silence? Did I offend you somehow? What have I done?" Eddie asks, or rather, demands.

Kirby stays silent, pulling up at a new hotel, or more accurately motel, and parking.

"The fuck are we doin' here?"

"Eddie, if we stayed at the hotel we were at last night Damian would know. If we stay here, no one except us knows." She explains softly, her tone like a mother dealing with an unruly child.

"Oh... smart move," Eddie mumbles, "Well, when we get a room you gotta pretend that ya datin' me."

"Beth y uffern [What the hell]? I'm not... why the fuck would I do that?" Kirby stammers, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised as far as they can go.

"Beth... what? Because ya have ta, or else people might get suspicious." Eddie shrugs, getting out of the car and opening Kirby's door before she even realises he's on her side of the car.

"But why?"

"But why," Eddie whines mockingly, "Let me put you in my shoes for a second, kid. Guy of my age rolls up at a shady, cheap-lookin', motel with a young, pretty lookin', gal like you, are ya gettin' the picture?"

"Oh," Kirby gasps, "I see... I am not, you know, a red light special, so to speak."

"A red light special? Like the TLC song?"

"Yeah," Kirby whispers as she walks beside Eddie, "I like 'em attentive and I like 'em in control, you know what I mean?" She chuckles softly.

Eddie shakes his head as he chuckles, getting his suitcase out of the trunk, before heading to the front desk, and getting the first available room.

The room's small, bathed in pink light from the sunlight streaming through the, still drawn, curtains. Kirby heads to the bathroom and stops in her tracks, in front of her is a small room, barely lit from the pink lightbulb above her head, she turns around and blocks Eddie's way into the bathroom.

"What's up with you? Need me to leave while ya piss or somethin'?" He grunts, raising an eyebrow as he takes in the bright pink of Kirby's cheeks, her scar almost managing to blend into her skin for once.

"Edward, we have a problem." She manages to squeak out.

"Problem? What sorta problem?"

Kirby moves, allowing Eddie to see the heart-shaped bathtub and the, intentional, pink lighting, he chuckles for a moment, then his brain kicks into gear and stops him mid-laugh.

"Oh fuck, there ain't a shower in there?" He asks, the grin dropping from his face.

She shakes her head, "I like some excitement and I like a man that goes." She teases as she walks over to Eddie, jokingly blowing him a kiss before taking her car keys off him, heading to grab her bags from the trunk.

"Now is not the time to quote that song!" He calls after her.

When Kirby returns, Eddie's outside on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and mumbling, what Kirby can only assume is, either rap lyrics or his thoughts to himself.

"You alright, Eddie?" She asks softly as she walks out onto the balcony next to him, "you don't have to put that out now I'm here, you know."

"You got that song stuck in my head, kid, you've got me mumblin' that shit to myself."

"I've got you mumbling Red Light Special to yourself? I guess there are worse songs to think about having sex to... not that you're thinking of having sex with me or anything. God no, why would you want to, I mean, look at me, I'm no man's first choice." Kirby rambles on quietly, her cheeks gradually getting redder as her brain screams at her to shut up.

"Hey kid, you're as pink as that bathtub," Eddie chuckles, patting her shoulder and pulling her into a side hug, "If I were thinkin' of fuckin' ya, I would at least get to know ya first."

"Don't mess with my head, Eddie." She grumbles.

"Or else you'll?" he teases.

"I'll steal your phone, call your mother and explain to her, that her son's making a young lady very uncomfortable."

"Don't you dare, my mother would destroy me with words alone, she'd take my head off with her teeth."

"Ooh, you've got a fiery mother too? Is she a red-head like mine or is she... What's the thing Billie says, Latina or Hispanic?"

"Puerto Rican, my father's Irish though."

"Fully Irish, or like half Irish half somethin' else?" She asks quietly, "My Da's half Irish, half Welsh."

"Fully Irish, I think, I'm not sure though, fairly sure he's part Hulk sometimes... and not smart Hulk, like first movie dumb Hulk."

"I get that. My Ma's half Scottish, so pissing her off is like pulling the pin on a human grenade."

"Ah, so that's where you get your fire in the ring from, you got both Irish and Scottish fire, so it's like a shotgun blast of 'Don't piss her off'."

"Sure... unless you're Damien, and have control over my career, and drag me away from my friends, just to see if working in America will work out."

"Oh really? You wanna talk about that?"

"Yeah, or at least the friends I, used to have, Mike, Ashkii, and Yoshi. Ash always had this joke that hanging out with me and Yoshi meant he was 'hanging with the video game girls'. Yoshi would always tell him he was an idiot for saying things like that." She smiles faintly.

"And what about Mike?"

"Me and Mike... we were as close as a guy and girl can be without dating. People would joke that he was Viscera's son, and I looked like Mideon's daughter, and we were gonna be the next Ministry of Darkness. I managed him for a while, tried to train him and get him to below three-hundred pounds, but nothing ever worked... in a way it was part of his charm, a guy that didn't care about impressing me with his physique, no rippling abs or striking bodybuilder poses as I walked by in the gym, just... playing Reggae music and singing along as he watched me put together that night's plan for after the show."

"Sounds like a great friend." Eddie mumbles, rubbing her back to reassure her, holding her closer when she starts to tear up.

"And then one day, Damien decided he wanted me to become 'Gluttony' and my uncles agreed, a seven-to-one vote stripped me, and my Da, of power over my career..." she takes a shaky breath in, wiping her eyes with the palms of her hands, "...I never wanted to be 'Gluttony', I thought it was horrible as a concept. Luring men who were considered 'out of shape' with the power of overindulgence in the consumable... I would never harm anyone's feelings intentionally and yet there I was, night after night, making jokes at my former best friend's expense, no wonder he kicked me out of our flat. I ended up moving back in with my parents, because I knew if I got a new place I couldn't pay the rent, I... I fucked up through no fault of my own." She whispers, her voice hoarse.

Eddie finishes his cigarette and leads Kirby inside, sitting her on the bed and holding her close, whispering small attempts at reassuring phrases to her.

"I'm sorry, you probably think I'm a wreck or something." She murmurs, only to be met with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"You're not a wreck, you're a kid, who grew up in the wrestling world and never learnt how... tough, the business could be because your dad protected you. How about, I go get us lunch in the car, you stay here and rest. I'll be back before you wake up from your nap, I promise."

"You promise you're not just leaving forever?"

Eddie takes her face in his hands, although rough, the feeling is quite gentle, "I promise on my mother's eyes" He whispers.

After Eddie leaves, Kirby undresses down to her underwear, an (unintentionally) sexy black lacy bra with a pair of TMNT boxer shorts, every one of her tattoos and scars on display for only her to see, and potentially any security cameras placed in the room.

True to his word, Eddie returns before Kirby wakes up, setting out the Chinese food and the small table, almost intentionally like a first date, the two seats parallel to each other, he curses under his breath when he hears her let out a gentle yawn.

"I promise you it's not what it looks like!" He blurts out, his cheeks turning pink momentarily.

"It looks like a conversation set up, two chairs opposite each other, food... perhaps a pint of Guinness? Maybe a can of beer?" She shrugs, getting up before her brain catches up to her body.

"Well, it's not everyday I see a sight like that," Eddie chuckles as Kirby reaches for her discarded t-shirt, bending down and unwittingly giving Eddie the 'perfect view' of her cleavage, "If you want me let me know it." He winks.

"Did you just-"

"Quote Red Light Special, yup."

"Oh thank fuck, I thought your dick had made you go on auto-pilot to flirt with me."

"You don't have a lot of experience with men, do ya?"

"Wrestling them, yes. Socialising with them, no." She admits sheepishly.

"Well, usually a guy will tell a girl they like them, either by actually sayin' somethin' or their body will tell the girl, I think you know how that stuff works though."

"Oh trust me, I have seen plenty of jean crotches being adjusted or covered by men."

"See, jeans can hide it. Just get baggy enough jeans and the problem sorts itself out. Sweatpants, however, they give everything away." Eddie explains, sitting on the edge of the bed.

[water-hates-learning]

Item #: SCP-20013

Object Class: Safe

[Pictured above: SCP-20013 has been known to frequently rearrange the mirrors in his containment cell.]

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-20013 is to be kept in a standard humanoid cell in Site [REDACTED]. All requests made by SCP-20013 that are within reason are to accepted pending review and written consent of at least two Level 3 Researchers. SCP-20013 is to be given three standard meals a day. SCP-20013 is allowed access to one Polaroid-style camera and film to replace it. SCP-20013 is allowed the use of multiple mirrors within his containment unit. SCP-20013 is allowed to request additional items of clothing and accessories for his person. SCP-20013 is NOT to be allowed within 5 feet of any containment units that hold SCPs know to possess, influence, or manipulate subjects with flattery.

If SCP-20013 exhibits uncooperative behavior, a threat to take away his mirrors is the advised course of action. If further noncooperation is witnessed, removal of all reflective surfaces from SCP-20013's containment cell are permitted. Under no circumstances is SCP-20013 to be struck, especially around or on his face. If any personal have been found to be in violation of this rule, appropriate actions will be taken against them. Under no circumstances are personal to allow SCP-20013 to hold unscheduled, unsupervised contact with SCP-22012, SCP- 20014, and SCP-20015.

Description: SCP-20013 is a 26 year old human male with orange hair, green eyes, freckles, and an accent. He was retrieved from a house on [REDACTED] Lane in [REDACTED]. He is very social and talkative but most conversation held with him will be about himself or his novelty toy collection. Flattery will endure the subject to you and he is quite gullible. However, asking him about certain events such as [DATA EXPUNGED] will result in vacant starring, willful ignorance, completely ignoring the interviewer altogether, or unconstrained hysterics that generally result in sedation. SCP-20013 will outright refuse to react to his designated numerical title and will only answer to his given birth name, "Matt". Apart from standard containment wear, SCP-20013 is also allowed to wear a purple, hooded sweater (registered as SCP-20013-A). As with SCP-20012, no anomalous affects have been detected from the sweater. SCP-20013 also requested the return of his green overcoat that could not be recovered.

It has been discovered that SCP-20013 is responsible for the Keter class event known as [DATA EXPUNGED] that resulted in drastic changes to and the near collapse of the core time stream of the universe. SCP-20013 cannot recall how this event was rectified nor how the timeline was stabilized. SCP-20013 has experienced severe amnesiac damage that has destroyed or erased most of his memory prior to [REDACTED] but after [REDACTED]. Investigation into this matter has brought up mention of a "memory erasure gun" but no such device has been located. As of yet, it has been impossible to restore SCP-20013's memories. SCP-20013 has instigated or participated in at least five contained Euclid class events, at least one other known Keter class event apart from [DATA EXPUNGED], and at least two registered Thaumiel class events of apocalyptic nature. SCP-20013 has been registered as “DECEASED” on multiple occasions only to return to life as normal shortly thereafter. Further testing is recommended. Further investigation is recommended.

Excerpt from Interview Log 20013-4: Dr. █████: Are you aware of the events that occurred on [REDACTED] and the results there-of? SCP-20013: What? No? Is it someone's birthday? Dr. █████: We have evidence that you were directly involved with the events that took place and witnesses claim you took charge of the gathering of [REDACTED]. Do recall being in this position? SCP-20013: [looks disgusted and offended] No! You're making this up, I wouldn't do that! Dr. █████: According to our records, your left arm was removed and consumed by the attacking [REDACTED] and you were left for dead by your companions. Afterwards you sought revenge. SCP-20013: [becoming distraught] Lying! You're lying! S-shut up! Get out of my room! [SCP-20013 then broke into hysterics and had to be sedated.]

[smallrainclouds]

It's not easy having yourself a good time

we're on a double-date with other people... why are we kissing? you're not my date

Credit for prompt to

Hypnos x reader (modern!College!au)

Word count: 2.7

Warning: some dating violence on OC's side. Wrist grabbing, slurs and controlling behavior.

Summary: this was the worst date of your life. Thankfully it's also Hypnos' worst date ever.

A/N: here have this fic. I had yandere! Hypnos I was working on but it's giving me issues (it was supposed be under 1k but it keeps growing).

Also, I am open to requests but will rejected any I don't feel comfortable doing.

No beta.

Thank and I hope you enjoy.

💤☁️💤

You regret everything.

You stared at the plate of food you didn't order, some sad little salad that somehow smelled greasy.

Why did you let yourself get talked into a group date? You know why, you thought your friend was going to try to set up with your lab partner, Hypnos.

You looked at the bubbles in your sparkling water, another thing you didn't order and wondered if the person you were with would ever stop talking.

You glanced up at the group at the table. Across from you with his own date next to him, was Hypnos who was frowning at your date.

At least you had one sane classmate with you. Hypnos had been your lab partner since the first day in senior year and honestly you had thought at first your friend was setting you up with Hypnos. If you had known it was with someone else, you would have bail.

Charlie was a nice person you told yourself and your friends thought they would be great for you. Charlie was just… maybe they didn't know you don't order people's food for them.

"Look what I'm saying, Hypnos, is that maybe that YouTuber guy shouldn't be called out as much. Not his fault people can't take jokes anymore." Your date, Charlie, said loudly across the table to Hypnos who just raised a brow.

You rolled your eyes, You weren't going to let your friends pick a date for you ever again.

"Alright buddy. Whatever you say." Hypnos shrugged.

Hypnos' date and fellow classmate leaned across Hypnos, her breasts pressed against his arm. You looked away, poking at your food. You certainly were not jealous, you told yourself.

"Come on, guys. Let's talk about something else." she whined. The other two couples that came along echoed their agreement.

Hypnos grimaced and sat up taller, making the girl sit up as well. You felt kinda bad for both you and Hypnos. Clearly neither one of you guys were getting on with your dates.

You looked toward your friend, hoping she would notice how poorly everything was going. You rolled your eyes when she was clearly lost in her own world, feeding her partner french fries.

Too bad your date wasn't with Hypnos. You thought he was actually cute back when You first saw him, if not a little odd looking with white curls and heavy lidded eyes. Now, you couldn't imagine a more handsome person.

You found your eyes kept going back to him throughout dinner. Especially when he pushed his hoodie sleeves up, showing off his forearms.

The table moved on to some marvel movie or something but you were drifting in and out. You kept checking your watch in hopes that you could end the night soon without being rude.

You could feel someone was watching you and you looked up to Hypnos' golden eyes looking at you. He glanced at the group, back at you and rolled his eyes. You smiled in agreement but quickly covered it up with your hand.

Hypnos pointed toward your plate with the uneaten food, eyebrows rised in a questioning way.

You tilted your head toward your date who was loudly having another argument over some tv show with one of the guys there.

Hypnos looked at your date for a second before he sneaked you his untouched plate of pancakes.

You mouthed, 'Are you sure?' and he nodded, pointing at a plate of mostly eaten omelet.

You mouthed a quick thank you and dug in. You were half though the plate of pancakes when your date noticed.

"Wait, where did you get the pancakes?" Charlie asked, "You know how fattening all that carbs and sugar are? I like my dates to be healthy."

"What?" You asked flatly. Did you really hear what you just did? Hypnos and his date were both staring at Charlie. Hypnos looked furious and You saw the girl send you a pitying look.

"Oh. come on, you know I don't mean it like that."

You suddenly lost any appetite you had and pushed the plate of food away. You looked toward your friend who remained blissfully unaware of your pain.

Your date swung an arm on your shoulders, you sighed annoyed at the causal possiveness. You only knew them for like two hours but they were already acting like you were going steady.

"Ready to hit the club, Y/N?" Your date asked.

You almost groaned, you had forgotten about the stupid club.

"Uh, sure. Yeah." You tried to wiggle your date's arm off but no dice. You thought you saw Hypnos send a disapproving look at your date but you weren't sure. No point getting your hopes up.

As you exited the diner, Hypnos tripped; knocking into your date and their arms off your shoulders.

Grateful for the excuse, you took a few steps out of their reach.

"Oops, my bad." Hypnos smiled widely, and gave a shoulder pat to your date who glared at him. "Just watch it alright?" Your date snapped as they made it to the carpool.

In the car, you peeked at Hypnos who just winked at you. You didn't hide your smile this time.

The club did nothing to improve your date or your mood. The loud bassy music was almost too loud to hear anyone and your date kept trying to get you to stay on the dance floor.

You were able to duck out of their hold and pointed to the table. They tried to tell you something but You didn't stick around.

You almost fell into the booth, your feet were throbbing and you just wanted to go home. You could just see your homework growing by the hour.

"Need water?" Hypnos asked. You looked up, "Oh I didn't know you were at the table. Yes please."

He handed you an icy cold bottle and you moaned at how good it tasted. He laughed and you blushed, feeling foolish.

"Sorry, thank you." You took a slip, without moaning this time thankfully.

Hypnos went back to his phone, fingers moving quickly. "No problem."

"Where is… um what was her name?" You asked, trying not to look at Hypnos too much. How dare he look this good in the club' dim lighting.

"Oh I forgot her name. But she is doing fine. Told me she was going home with her ex." He pointed to the dance floor where the girl was dancing against another guy, their mouths glued together.

You looked back at him, but he already was back to texting on his phone. He didn't seem upset at all.

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You said awkwardly, not sure of what to make of this whole night.

"Don't be. I'm not." He shrugged. You couldn't help but notice how nicely the red hoodie fit him.

"I will admit though I don't think I will be trusting our friend's matchmaking skills after tonight." Hypnos looked at you, his amused smile made you smile in return.

"You and I both." You murmured your agreement.

You finished off your drink, eyeing him.

After a few more minutes, your willpower broke.

"Okay I gotta know. It has been months since I met you and it is bugging the crap out of me." You leaned forward to him.

He looked up from his phone, a white eyebrow raised.

"Is Hypnos your real name?" You asked him, not quite able to look away from him. You were being a silly school girl and you knew it.

He laughed, "Yeah, it is." He moved closer, his eyes bright. "Wanna know why?"

At your nod, he spoke. "When my mom was pregnant with me and my brother. She got kinda crunchy, got into healing crystals and tarot cards, stuff like that."

Hypnos waved a hand. "So when she couldn't pick names for us, she went to a psychic, who told her that she was a reincarnation of the goddess Nyx. And apparently she was pregnant again with the reincarnated gods of sleep and death."

You couldn't help the small laugh and Hypnos chuckled as he took a sip of his beer.

"Mom believed the guy." He pointed to himself, " So ta-da I got named Hypnos. And my brother is Thanatos."

"Your mom sounds like a fun lady." You played with your hair, enjoying the warmth in your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel such things.

"Oh definitely. I never know what I'm going to get when I see her." Hypnos said fondly.

When You shifted your seat, your leg brushed against his. You almost pulled away but Hypnos pressed his leg against yours. You could feel the heat of his body and it just made you want more.

His golden eyes searched yours, silently asking if he could do this. You returned the gentle pressure and flushed at his soft smile.

"How does your brother handle the whole Thanos name thing?" You asked, desperately trying to calm your racing heart.

A devious glint lit Hypnos' eyes, "Oh he hates it so much. He already hated the whole super hero thing. Last year for his birthday, I got him a cardboard cutout of the big guy. I thought he was going to shove it down my throat. I got his boyfriend Zagreus and their girlfriend Meg in on it this year, we going to -"

"Hey Y/N. Are you coming back to the floor?" Charlie's eyes narrowed, "Hypnos, I think your actual date is looking for you."

You pulled away, you had forgotten about Charlie and you couldn't help but feel some guilt, even if you didn't like them that much or at all.

Hypnos stayed in place, amusement on his face. You saw Charlie's fists clenched and knew they were about to start a fight and stood up.

You were definitely going to block Charlie's number after tonight was over.

"Come on, let's get some drinks for everyone. They should be coming back soon." You motioned for Charlie to follow you. They glared at Hypnos before following you.

You couldn't resist a quick glance back to Hypnos, who raised his beer at you in a 'cheers' motion.

💤☁️💤

Charlie was sullen and quiet as you ordered more drinks for the group. You couldn't blame them really, anyone would be put out when their dates are clearly having a better time with someone else.

Well, not Hypnos but Hypnos wasn't exactly normal, you thought fondly.

You tapped the bar, guilt gnawed at your guts as your thoughts went back to Hypnos.

"So what were you guys talking about?" Charlie slurred, his tone icy.

You took a breath, just a few more hours you reminded yourself. "Nothing much. Just about his brothers and stuff."

Charlie crowded into your space. You can smell the booze and sweat on them.

"You guys seemed like you were sitting pretty close considering you were talking about 'brothers'." They did a finger quote.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stand being near them any longer. You stepped away to head back to let your friends you were bailing for the night.

"Tell me what he said to you." Charlie demanded as they grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Ow, let go of me! You are hurting me, Charlie." You hissed, trying not to draw any attention.

"Tell me." They hisses back.

"I did. Buy your own drink, I'm going home." You tried to yank your hand away but they didn't let go.

"Look I've been nothing but nice to you and you're cuddling up to another guy on our date like some slut." They changed their tone, trying to sound more upset than controlling but it just made your stomach twisted in disgust.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but after a moment you shut it, "You're right. Clearly this isn't going to work out so let me go."

"No, you own me something, Y/N." Charlie leaned toward you. "And I'm not leaving empty handed."

"Fuck off." You snapped, fear rising in your chest.

"Hey, man." Hypnos grabbed Charlie's wrist and squeezed tightly enough that they were forced to let go of your wrist. His normal light-hearted tone was hard. "I think Y/N had enough of your company tonight."

You took some steps back, shaking a little. Without looking at you, Hypnos asked. "Y/N, do you need to go get anything?"

"N-no. I have everything. I want to leave." You hated how weak you sounded and you wished that you never came out at all.

Hypnos held on to Charlie's wrist and yanked them toward him. You heard Hypnos murmur something to them.

Fear flashed over Charlie's face and they stumbled backward. "Fine. Whatever asshole."

Hypnos turned to you, his eyes darkened by his anger. "Come on, I can get you a ride home."

You just nodded, feeling very exhausted and close to tears.

💤☁️💤

The cold wind felt like heaven after the heat of the overflowing club. At least for the first two minutes.

You just walked, not quite sure where to go. Hypnos walked next to you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Neither one of you said anything as you tried to process the horrible night.

After walking for ten more minutes, Hypnos spoke up. "There is a park nearby, we should be able to find a park bench."

You just nodded, Hypnos offered an arm and after a moment you took it. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, soaking in his body heat.

The park was empty, lit by warm path lights.

"Thank you." You said. "You didn't have to do anything for me."

"It's all good. How about the wrist?" Hypnos asked softly.

"It doesn't hurt. Thank you since you stepped in." You patted his forearm.

Hypnos sighed, "No. Not thanks to me actually. Its kinda my fault, I've been pushing their buttons for most of the night."

You looked up at Hypnos, your brow furrowed. "What? No, they have been pretty rude since the start of the date. I mean, you heard the salad thing. They ordered it for me!"

Hypnos shook his head. His breath coming out in white puffs. "Yeah and because I was jealous, I made a bad date into a nightmare. I knew I was making them feel all threatened, it wasn't hard honestly. I didn't think they would grab you like that. I just thought they would be a bad date you could laugh about later."

It took you a moment to process his words. You stopped on the park path, staring off at the lake.

"You were jealous?" You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

"Very." Hypnos chuckled bitterly.

"Hypnos, you are an idiot." You said blankly.

He opened his mouth to say something but you pulled him down by his collar to kiss him.

At first, Hypnos doesn't return your kiss and you pull away, an apology already on your lips.

But he cupped your face and met you again in a sweet, slow kiss. He kept pulling away to press chaste kisses against your lips and cheeks.

"Damnit, I was planning on asking out you after our last class assignment. I had a plan for everything. I was going to take you to your favorite coffee shop and buy you that dumb drink you like. Take you the park by our dorms and ask you by the duck pond." Hypnos said between kisses and pressing one last long kiss against your lips.

You hummed, unable to think straight. "Our friend ruined that, huh." You laughed when you could feel him growled against your lips. "You have no idea, I had a speech and everything."

After another long and soft kiss, both of you pulled away only to met again in a forehead press. Your white puffs of breath mingled together and your heart felt so full.

"You could still do the coffee and the speech. And the ducks." You whispered.

"Yeah?" Hypnos asked softly, his thumb caressed your cheek.

"I have to do a lab with a very cute classmate tomorrow but I'm free after that." You flushed, pleased at the fond smile Hypnos had.

"That's funny, so am I." Hypnos replied.

Unable to hold off any longer, you pulled him into another kiss, one of the many yet to come.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver. 

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs. 

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity. 

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence. 

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching. 

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

 “Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man. 

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily. 

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day. 

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

 “Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher. 

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

[breakfastteatime]

Mini Mac Fic Part 2!

Ta da! A continuation of this Jack’s got a sick Mac on his hands, and he’s gonna get him home and safely tucked up.

It was a quiet drive from Phoenix back to Mac’s place. Jack really had to bite his tongue to keep from asking Mac why he didn't just take a sick day. For a guy who was so smart, he could be incredibly stupid about his personal wellbeing. 

Besides, Mac was asleep in the passenger seat, making it hard for him to answer anything. And Jack didn't want to disturb him until they got to his place. For him to be sleeping so much and so heavily during the day meant he really had to be sick. Mac slept light unless he’d gone beyond all his limits. And here he was, sleeping hard, his breathing a little ragged at the edges. He’d slumped against the door, head pressed to the glass like he wanted to cool off.

“Dammit, kid,” Jack muttered. “Can’t you make this easy just one time?” 

Matty was right; Mac would be in trouble when he was well enough. He needed to learn to manage himself better. Or at all, really. Because one day, his cavalier attitude towards himself would really bite him in the ass. Just because they weren't on a mission and were out of rotation for a few weeks unless something major came in, didn't mean he could ignore his health. 

“This would all be a lot easier if you were awake to hear me tell it to you straight,” Jack said. 

Mac didn’t even stir. 

Bozer always said Mac wasn’t one to take sick days ‘unless he’s vomiting, and even then, it’s fifty-fifty.’ Bozer then promised to share the story of how Mac had proceeded to projectile vomit in a high school chemistry class because he ignored a stomach-ache until it was too late. 

There was resilience and then there was Mac. Jack hadn’t bothered asking him why he was so weird about taking time off. He knew why. Mac admitting to weakness, to vulnerability? It didn’t happen.  

It was time for Mac to unlearn some of his bad habits. 

By the time they got back to Mac's place, he was looking more flushed than before. Jack could hear a distinct crackle in his breathing, too. Probably still a cold, but maybe one nastier than average. 

Killing the engine, Jack reached over, gently shaking Mac awake. “Home sweet home, bud. Let’s get you inside.” 

"Mmmm," Mac mumbled, hoarse voice thick with congestion. “I’m up.” 

His eyes hadn't actually opened.  

"Uh-huh," Jack said, smiling fondly. "Wanna try that again?" 

Mac's answer was clearly no because he was already asleep again. And snoring. 

"I will carry your ass if I have to," Jack said, reaching over to check for fever. Yup, he had one. A nasty one. “Mac!” 

Mac grunted. 

"Fine. Stay right there." 

Jack had a plan. He knew where Mac (okay, Bozer) kept the thermometer… Assuming Mac hadn’t repurposed it for anything. If Mac's temperature was anywhere close to 103F, they were going straight to the nearest ER, no passing go, no collecting $200. Jack wasn't letting Mac's ridiculous stubbornness melt his brain. 

Thirty seconds later, Jack placed the digital thermometer in Mac's ear. He flinched, hand reaching up to slap at Jack's hand. "Stop," Mac said, voice coarse. "It's a cold or sinusitis or something. I’ll sleep it off.” He cleared his throat, unsuccessfully. When he spoke again, he still sounded like he’d gargled with sand. “You don't need to worry so much." 

"No, you need to take this more seriously." Jack said. "You don't need it getting any worse." 

"S'nothing," Mac mumbled, blinking hard, trying to wake himself up.  

The thermometer beeped its reading before Jack could argue back. 102.5F. Not quite 103F. Mac got a stay of professional medical attention. 

Jack tucked the thermometer into a pocket. "Bed. Water. Tylenol. In that order." 

“Fine.” Mac pulled himself out of the car. He slumped against the car, sweat coating his face as he panted for breath and went several shades too pale.  

Jack grabbed him before his legs gave out again, guiding him down to the ground. "Dizzy?" 

"Yeah," Mac said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Not good.” 

“You gonna barf?” Jack asked, wondering how he could put safe distance between himself and whatever might come out of Mac. 

Mac let out a shaky breath. “Dunno.” He peeked through his bangs. "Sorry, Jack." 

Jack managed a smile. "Yeah, kid, I know you are. But we have talked about this. You gotta look after yourself. A sick day now and then ain't the end of the world." 

Mac mumbled something in response, but it was too soft and garbled for Jack to make sense of. He also hadn’t regained any color aside from the patches of bright red on his cheeks. 

“Deep breaths,” Jack said. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get to a doctor. “You need me to carry you?” 

“No!” Mac cried out. “Just gimmie a minute.” 

“World spinning?” Jack asked. 

“S’just a cold,” Mac said. “I’m not aching or anything.” 

“Whatever it is, we need you inside, so let’s do this slowly. I’m gonna get you to your feet and we’re gonna walk inside.” 

Mac held out a hand. Jack pulled him upright, holding both elbows until Mac was steady. Mac pulled away, his glassy eyes squinting against the sunlight. So, Jack could add a headache to Mac’s symptoms. He hovered close to Mac's side as they went inside. Mac made a beeline for the couch. 

"Not bed?" Jack asked. 

"Not that sick," Mac said. He sat down. Then he slumped onto his side, awkwardly kicking off his shoes. He groaned in relief. "Thanks for bringing me home. I'll get some rest now.” He shivered, closing his eyes. “Tell Matty I'm sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow."  

Jack threw out his hands and turned in a circle. “Give me strength,” Jack hissed through his teeth. He couldn’t shout. Mac was sick. Calm. Jack needed to be calm. Very calm. Did Mac seriously think he was going to be left alone? Jack took a deep breath. He held it in for three then slowly released it. Feeling slightly less explosive (because when would Mac learn he wasn’t alone?), Jack headed to the kitchen, grabbed an icepack from the freezer, wrapping in a dishtowel. Next, he poured out a tall glass of water. Then he rummaged through Mac and Bozer's medicine collection, pulling out the Tylenol. Taking everything over to Mac, Jack nudged him awake and made sure he took a dose. Mac did what he was poked to, flopped back, accepted the icepack for his head, and fell asleep in seconds. 

Jack fetched a thin green blanket and placed it over Mac. He glanced at his phone. Matty wanted to know when they were settled. Jack typed fast. One genius dosed and tucked up. He sent a photo too. 

Cute, Matty texted back. Keep an eye on him. 

“You know I got him.” Jack made a quick run to his car to grab his bag and his headphones. Going back into the house, Jack tuned into some classic hair metal, and settled himself into the recliner opposite Mac. He was still Mac’s Overwatch. Way too many dangerous people knew where Mac lived.  

Another conversation Jack needed to have with him. But maybe not right now… 

…Not when Matty had jammed a ton of paperwork into his bag. So you don't spend too much time worrying, she'd told him as he'd shepherded Mac to the car. 

She knew Jack too well. 

The hours ticked by. Jack worked hard, going over a number of training protocols for Phoenix’s tac teams. He looked up every so often, making sure Mac slept peacefully. Sure, his right pant leg rode up to his knee, one of his socks was half off, the blanket only covered one half of him, the icepack had melted, and he had his belly hanging out, but Mac was fast asleep and didn’t appear to be having any nightmares. 

Mac awoke late in the afternoon. He blinked hard, staring at the blanket. “Shit!” He tossed the blanket away, breathing hard.  

Jack looked up from the latest proposal. He saw Mac staring into the distance, not really seeing what was in front of him. "The blanket do something to offend you?" 

"Weird dream," Mac said. He somehow sounded raspier than before. Maybe they needed to add laryngitis to his diagnoses. He sounded more congested too, a distinct crackle in his chest. Mac pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Hate sleeping during the day." 

Jack eyed him critically. "How weird?" 

"Couldn't touch anything green," Mac said. "Green was deadly. Except everywhere I went had green carpet so it was the weirdest game of The Floor is Lava." 

Jack took a second to process. "Why green?"  

"Arsenic," Mac said, pushing sweaty hair out his face. "They used to have a green dye that contained arsenic." He coughed, reaching for the glass of water Jack had topped up halfway through Mac’s nap. "And I had to keep stopping everyone putting on green t-shirts." 

"Only you could have a sciencey nightmare," Jack said. He scooped up the green blanket. “Pretty sure this is free of arsenic.” 

Finishing the water with a grimace, Mac slumped against the couch. "Guess it was on my mind." 

"Arsenic? Do I need to worry? Are you looking to kill someone in a really historically accurate way?" 

Mac smiled. "It's not just a murder weapon. There's probably some in your car battery. There could even be cyanide in the car’s upholstery or – " 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay, how 'bout you stop talking about deadly poisons, you’re making me itchy. Actually, just stop talking. You ain't gonna have much of a voice left soon." 

"And that'd be a real bummer," Mac croaked. He winced. “Ow.” 

“Feeling rough?” Jack asked. 

“Yeah,” Mac said. He groaned. “Fine. I’m sick, okay? I admit it.”  

“See, this is why you don’t come to the office when you’re sick,” Jack said. “That way, you get better quicker.” 

“I get it,” Mac said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone in today.” 

“So, no going to work tomorrow?” 

Mac sighed. And then coughed. And then winced. “No work tomorrow.” 

Jack punched the air. “I won!” 

Mac cocked an eyebrow. “On the other hand…” 

“Oh no, don’t you dare,” Jack said, jabbing a finger at him. “You’re staying there. I will sit on you if necessary. Matty will probably order me if I tell her you’re thinking of going into the office tomorrow.” 

“I’m joking,” Mac said. He moved himself upright, planting his hands against the cushions. “Okay.” He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing and rubbing his forehead. “Wow, this headache sucks.” 

Jack got up too. “Hey now, stay right there. I can get you anything you need.” 

Mac blinked at him. “Including a trip to the bathroom?” 

“No, nope, you take care of that,” Jack said, hands held up. “I’ll get you something to drink. Something to eat, too. And some more meds.” He backed away, heading into the kitchen. “Think you’ve got any soup tucked away somewhere? Man, who am I kidding. Of course you do. Bozer is always two steps ahead with comfort food.” 

“Hey, Jack?” Mac called after him. 

Jack opened the fridge, looking for juice. “Yeah?”  

“Thanks,” Mac said. “For… y’know… everything.” 

Jack smiled to himself. “Anytime, Mac.”

(You can find my longer fics over here on AO3)

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Family Pride or Clan Trevor

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and very smutty content.

Summary: Rod and Kirby talk more about what a potential future together might look like and Rod meets the rest of the Trevor Clan.

Kirby's POV:

The rest of the day was quiet, too quiet, almost as if Roddy was planning something for the get-together tomorrow. The morning of the Twenty-Ninth was quiet still, then we had to leave to go to the get together, we got in my dad's Vauxhall Firenza and I zoned out until we reached the community centre and parked in the overflow parking lot.

I spotted two of my cousins walking over, the identical twins, Mona and Meredith, with their husbands and kids not to far behind them.

"Su’mae"

"Su’mae" They repeated, in unison.

My skin crawled as I recalled all the times over the years that the twins had spooked me.

"Beth ydy eich enw chi?" Mona attempted to ask Roddy.

"Mon, he doesn't speak Welsh, this is Roddy. Rod, this is Mona and Meredith."

"Hi Ladies, I'm Rod, Kirby's boyfriend."

"Cariad?" Meredith looked up at me, my face unmasked showing flushed cheeks, "Cawsoch chi'ch hun yn gariad?"

"Aye."

"Llongyfarchiadau!"

"Thank you, Meredith, How're the kids?"

"Oh, They're fine."

"You speak English?" Rod asked, incredulous.

"Of course we do." The twins answered in unison.

Rod shot me a concerned look, I gave him a knowing but still somewhat scared look in return.

We walked into the centre and I immediately saw the 'welcome home' banner and I couldn't stop the rush of emotions and Rod noticed the change in me, seeing the softer and much more hidden side of me, the part of me that never wanted to leave my homeland for the USA. I rushed outside, sitting on the bench next to the door, Roddy following quickly behind me.

"Woah, woah. Are ya alright, baby?"

"I'm fine, just a little light-headed is all."

"Don't you go lying ta me."

"I'm just a little emotional, Rod, it's been a while since I was here and I haven't seen half of my family for much longer than that."

My cousins Pat and Rod came up to the bench.

"Hey Kirby, new fella."

"Hey Patrick, Roderick. Uhh, boys, this is my boyfriend, Roddy. Roddy, my cousins, Patrick and Roderick."

"So," Pat started, "When's the wedding?"

"What are ya talkin' about," Rod (My cousin, Roderick) added, "There's got to be an engagement party before a weddin, Paddy."

"I know Roddy, but then there's also the Hen and Stag Do's, too."

"So, How long you two been dating?"

"Not long enough for you two to be making those jokes." I chided

"Okay, we'll leave you two to your business."

They scarpered off quite quickly after that, leaving me and Roddy (Piper) alone for a while.

"Those two are weird."

"Rod, they're family, of course they're weird."

"They raise a fair point though."

"What do you mean?!" I shot him a confused look

"Well, when would our wedding be?"

"That depends."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, knowing your 'appetite' it depends on if you y'know put me 'up the duff' so to speak, before or after the end of the year."

"Well, if I get you 'knocked up' before the end of the year, you'd marry me at the start f next year?"

"Exactly."

"What if I get you 'knocked up' before the end of next month?" he teased

"Roddy, don't tease me, boyo."

"Oh come on, we'll sneak back to ya Da's Firenza, get in the back, shack up and-"

I covered Rod's mouth with my hand, "Don't be a fuckwit, Roderick," I let him speak again.

"I'm not being a 'fuckwit', I'm suggesting," he placed his hand on my thigh, close to my knee, slowly moving his hand closer to my groin, "We go, shack up, fly back before the second of Feb, if I get you pregnant, then we'll get married sooner rather than later, if I don't then we'll try again."

"Rod, I'm twenty-nine."

"So am I, until April seventeenth. Why? When are you suggesting I get ya 'Knocked up'?"

"I dunno, when I'm thirty, or in my thirties. Not now."

"So, next year. I think I can wait until then," He then whispered something to himself that I could barely hear, "If I don't get blue balls and die."

"Roddy!"

"Ya heard that, didn't ya."

"Rod, I, you, ugh."

"C'mere baby." He pulled me closer, one hand on my thigh and the other cupping my cheek, giving me a quick kiss on the lips, "I love ya baby, I would wait an eternity to have a family with you," He pulled me back into a longer and more passionate kiss, pulling away when we both needed to breathe.

"I love you, Piper."

"Do you want me to marry ya, before we have kids?"

"Preferably, I don't want you to leave me."

"I'd never leave ya, never, not me."

"Yeah, like you're Prince fucking Arthur."

"That would make you my Guinevere."

"I'm nothing like Guinevere."

The rest of the evening was quite quiet, a family meal at a local restaurant, resulting in a drunken Roddy and me getting somewhat tipsy. Safe to say, my Da did not enjoy driving us back to the house. But I had sobered up somewhat by the time we were in bed for the night, Rod not so much.

"Oh, baby, let me make love to ya."

"Rod, shush."

"But we could be havin' so much fun."

"Roddy, get some rest or you'll hate yourself in the morning."

"But I just wanna kiss ya, and hug ya, and stuff ya pretty little maw wit ma co-"

"Roderick. Shut up."

"Fine, fine. I'll get some sleep, ya bi-"

I pulled him into a rough and passionate kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth before pulling away and shifting positions to straddle his lap.

"ya big sexy beast, c'mere."

He pulled me down into another rough but passionate kiss, using his free hand to grind my grin against his, making sure that I can feel the heat rising from his crotch, barely covered by his briefs, grinding against my own barely clothed frame. The bulge in his pants pressing into the curve of my groin, Rod letting out small grunts and groans, feeling his hand move from my ass to the front of my crotch before feeling him rub at my clit before he slipped his hand into my boxer shorts, rubbing at my clit before checking to see if I'm wet, letting out a satisfied grunt before pulling away from the kiss.

"Would you like me to get you off, Roddy?"

"How about, you give me my release and I give you yours."

"Sure, but we gotta keep this quiet."

Rod pulled me into another heated make out session.

When we woke up the following morning, limbs intertwined, Rod's body on top of mine.

"Morning, beautiful."

"Good Morning, my love."

"What day is it?"

"Monday. Thirtieth, January. Nineteen Eighty-Four."

"I gotta make some calls."

Rod tried to get up, not realising how intertwined our legs were, climbing out of the bed, pulling us both off the bed and landing on his back on the floor with a thud.

"Oh my God, Roddy, are you okay?"

"I'm alright baby, I'm ok, you?"

"I'm alright. I was scared that I hurt ya."

"Nah, you could never hurt me."

I got off of him, pulling him up afterwards and kissing him before he went off to make the calls he needed to. I did my morning routine, my Mam gave me a coffee and I set myself up in the gym half of the garage.

At least an hour passed before I saw Roddy again, I was drinking the final drops of my coffee when he rushed into the gym his concerned expression instantly turning into relief.

"Ya alright, handsome."

"I'm okay honey, I'm okay. Turns out we need to leave earlier than planned, as in before the fourth."

"Then we'll leave tomorrow, my parents will understand. My Da won't like us leaving so soon, so if I were you, I'd go build the familial bridge now so that he doesn't kill ya."

"Alright, I'll go do that. I love ya. Oh, you have a match on the Sixth against S.D Jones."

"Okay, I love you."

I spent another hour in the gym before Piper returned.

"Ya Da has said that he'll kill me if I hurt ya or break ya heart, however he knows that we need to go back to work eventually and trusts that you'll put me in my place."

"Sounds like my Da, hey Hot Rod."

"Hey baby," He got closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, "gimme some sugar."

"No, I'm covered in sweat," I tried to avoid him kissing my neck but failed, "alright, fine, fine. I give in."

He cupped my jaw with his left hand, pulling me down into the kiss, his eyebrows knitted together and my eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, letting Rod control the moment. The moment Rod pulled away I pressed my forehead to his.

"Do you wanna watch me work out?"

"You box, Rod?"

"Golden Gloves Champion. Black belt in Judo, too."

"Handsome and athletic, you are the whole package."

"Thanks for the compliment, but y'know, a strong man is only as strong as his partner."

"Do you mean me or Orndorff and Schultz?"

"You, ya dafty."

"Rod."

"Yes, Kirby?"

"Do you wanna leave tonight, red eye flight, get back before tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, if that's what ya wanna do, we'll go tonight."

"Rod."

"Yeah."

"I want … I would like," I took a second to compose myself," I would like to have a family with you."

He pulled away, locking eyes with me, his tone optimistic, "Really?"

"Absolutely," I wiped a tear away from my eye, "I want to marry you, I want to be a wife and a mother and I want to be with you."

"Do you want to live here, or in the States?"

"Well, America would mean we can work easier."

He let out a small chuckle, smirking up at me, "I love ya, I want to marry ya and be with ya through thick and thin, anything happens, I'll be by your side."

"Promise me, you won't fight with Damien any more."

"I promise you I won't. Promise me, you'll let me tell people about us."

"I promise you, you can tell whoever you want."

"Let's go make ourselves a new home, alright baby?"

"Yeah."

We packed our things and my Da drove us to the airport. I gave my parents a tearful goodbye and we got the next flight back to New Jersey, checking into a hotel in Edison and I left Piper for half an hour to pick up the D200, collecting my paperwork from a nearby DMV centre and going back to the hotel. Rod opened the door, letting me in and slumping on the double bed next to me.

"Hey beautiful."

"Hi Rod, help me with this, please." I gestured to the paperwork

"What is it?"

"Insurance stuff, getting you insured on the D200."

"Give it here, I'll deal with it."

"No Rod, I'm capable of filling it out, just help me with the details."

"Just, gimme the papers," He leaned over and kissed my neck, "let me handle it, baby."

"Not with the mood you're in."

"I can't help that you're sexy."

"Rod, stop thinking with ya dick for five minutes and help me."

"Alright, fine."

We were almost finished with the paperwork when there was a knocking at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Piper, let me in or I'm kicking this door down." The muffled voice threatened.

"Shit, that's Schultz."

"Holy shit, Piper. Are you fucking the female giant?"

That was not Schultz's voice. It sounded like Orndorff.

Piper groaned as he opened the door.

"I'm not fucking her right now, Paul."

"Hi Schultz, Orndorff. Rod get your ass back over here and help me with this."

"Pay me." Rod teased

"With what?" I jokingly responded

"With sex" Schultz and Orndorff said almost simultaneously, giving each other a knowing look.

"All three of you share a brain." I mumbled

Piper groaned, gesturing for me to give him the papers, I complied and he read through it, mumbling the words of the document to himself.

Schultz looked from me to Piper before nudging Orndorff's arm, "They look like they're already married, Paul. Piper's got himself a wife."

"I'm not his wife-"

"She's my girlfriend." Roddy interrupted

"I was gonna say that Roddy."

"I know baby, I know."

"Jeez Rod, get her pregnant or somethin' boy."

"David!" I chided

"I would, but she's got a fight on the sixth."

"Roddy!" Orndorff chastised

We spent the rest of the evening with the boys and eventually I fell asleep next to Roddy. I woke up the next morning with Roddy next to me.

"Morning Kirby."

"Good morning, Roderick, ya handsome fool."

"I love you too honey," Rod kissed my forehead, "I filed the paperwork for ya."

"Thank you. What's the time?"

"About, half ten in the morning. Do ya wanna go grab breakfast?"

"I'd thought you'd never ask."

END OF FAMILY PRIDE or CLAN TREVOR

[atc74]

The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

Warnings: Fluff, parental crap, fluff, love,  scary situations, canon level violence, TW: Major Character Death

Summary: Y/N finds love with a young man who is new in town. Will their love last forever like she hopes, or will it end before it’s really begun?

Pairing: Lee Webb x Reader

Word Count: 4025

Written for: @amanda-teaches​ Amanda’s 2K Writer & Reader Challenge (“I can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me.”), @alleiradayne​‘s Summer Shut In Challenge (“Can you please come get me?”), and @katymacsupernatural​ Katy’s Make Me Feel Challenge (”That’s...a lot of blood.”. Writing has been such a struggle that I combined them all!

Beta’d by: @crashdevlin​ and @dean-winchesters-bacon​. Thank you both so much for taking a look and being so supportive of a new character. Also to @dolphincliffs​ for continually supporting (and feeding) my Christian Kane fix. 

A/N: We all know the orgin stories of our favorite, and not so favorite characters. But when a new character is introduced in the way Lee Webb was, there is so much to learn. He is a blank slate, except for his ending. We really don’t know what is and what not is OOC for him, so this is going to be so fun. I was inspired to write this after listening to The Band Perry’s “If I Die Young”. I’ve always thought this would be a great intro for a hunter, and I finally found it.  I hope you enjoy the journey!

P.S. I am using my forevers and my Dean list, since he does make an appearance. Please let me know if you prefer not to be tagged, should there be future Leo installments. Thank you. 

Circa 2001 - Somewhere in Oklahoma

“Mama, he’s a good man,” Y/N sighed loudly as she set the table for supper. 

“He’s a drifter, Y/N. He’s only been in town a short time. And working at that place!” her mother, Ruth, spat. 

“Not everyone gets a good family upbringin’. He’s had a hard life and is trying to make it better. And it’s a bar, Mama, not the Devil’s playground.” Y/N protested, slamming the last fork down harder than she intended. 

“That’s exactly what it is! Nothing good ever happened in that place and you’re not going there!” It had been a long time since she had heard her mother raise her voice. 

“Mother, I am twenty years old. I am not a child. Lee is a good man and I’ve been seeing him for more than three months. He’s coming to supper and you’ll be the gracious hostess we all know you are. Please reserve judgement until you’ve met him. Isn’t that what Jesus would do?” Y/N smiled sweetly, knowing how her religious mother always followed the Golden Rule. 

“Of course I will, Y/N. I’m not a heathen!” 

“Supper was delicious, Miss Ruth. Thank you so much for having me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a meal this good,” Lee smiled at her as he stood to clear the dishes. 

“Well, I’m pleased you liked it. I’ve got plenty left over. Would you like me to pack you some to take home?” Ruth blushed at the compliment from her daughter's boyfriend as she searched for a container for his leftovers. 

“That would be wonderful, thank you ma’am. Now, you ladies go enjoy your tea, I’ll clean up here,” Lee shuttled the remaining dishes from the table to the sink. 

“Nonsense! Guests don’t do my dishes,” Ruth swatted him away with her towel. 

“Then let me dry, please. It’s the least I can do after such a meal. I haven’t eaten that well in, forever I think,” Lee offered. 

“Mama, let him help.” Y/N’s  voice carried through from the dining room as she carried the platter of fried chicken to the kitchen. 

~*~

“He’s a good man, Y/N. I can see he cares deeply for you,” her mother told Y/N quietly that night after Lee had gone. They sat on the back porch, sipping chamomile tea, as the sun set.

“He loves me, Mama. And I think I love him, too.” She smiled ear to ear. “You changed your tune pretty quick, though.” 

“He told me a little about his life, ya know. How his daddy left and his mama got sick. That’s no way for a child to live. But he’s making something for himself, and for you one day,” she commented. “He looks at you the way your daddy used to look at me.” 

“Yes he is, but please don’t go putting a ring on my finger. I’ve barely started living. I won’t always be working at the library, content to stay in this town,” Y/N stated. 

“I know, baby girl. There’s big things waiting for you out there. But leave room for him, too.” 

“Mama, three hours ago you didn’t even like the man, now you want us to run away together and get married?” Y/N laughed.   

“No, baby. I want you to get married, then run away and live your lives. I don’t want you stuck here like I was after your daddy passed. It’s no life for a young woman so vibrant and with so much to give the world,” Mama sniffed slightly, running the crumpled tissue in her hand underneath her nose. She rose and kissed the top of her head. “Goodnight, girl. Don’t stay up too late.”

A pack of coyotes howled in the distance as Y/N thought about what her mama had said. “Goodnight, Mama.” 

~*~

“Lee, what are we doing all the way out here? Why did you bring me out here? It’s dark and creepy,” Y/N muttered as Lee led her away from his truck, the path dark and obscured by shadows from the ancient pines towering above them. 

“I have a surprise for you, darlin’,” Lee smiled, his dimples carved deep into his cheeks. “Ta da!” 

“What is this?” Y/N gasped seeing a crippled cabin in front of them. The porch steps sagging from years of rot, the roof following suit. 

“It’s ours...well, mine. I bought it from Ed for just the deed transfer fees. It’s going to be incredible,” Lee beamed at the compromised structure, then turned back to Y/N, his smile falling as he did. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Is it safe?” Y/N asked hesitantly, brows furrowed. 

“Not yet. It needs some work, but I’m gonna fix ‘er up real good. It’ll be a good home for us, darlin’.” 

They sat on the hood of his truck and Y/N listened as he told her his plans for the small two bedroom cabin, his thumb brushing over the knuckles of her hand folded in his. Y/N was content to stay tucked under his arm, his body fending off the chill of the night. Time passed as they talked about their future, laid out under the slivers of moonlight. “I love you, Lee.” 

“I’ll love you forever, Y/N.”

It wasn’t until the night air became too cool that they decided to head back into town. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.” As Lee opened the passenger side of his truck, the sound of breaking glass came from the direction of the small cabin. He pushed Y/N inside the cab and shut the door. “Get behind the wheel, if I’m not back in five minutes, leave! Call the sheriff.” 

“Lee, let’s just go!” Y/N shouted through the open window as he grabbed a two by four from the bed of his truck. He turned and winked at her, then kept walking, right around the side of the cabin. Four minutes. 

The night was too dark to see anything solid, the slivers of moonlight playing tricks on her eyes as she scanned the small clearing. Three minutes. 

Y/N slid across the bench seat and started the old beast, her engine rumbling to life. Two minutes. 

She heard nothing as she continued to search for Lee, her eyes darting back and forth, the headlights of the truck brightening the clearing. One minute. 

“Damn, baby, you smell so sweet!” A man jumped through the passenger window, breathing deeply through his nose. And then he smiled at Y/N. Only there were far too many teeth and they were all wrong. 

A scream ripped from her body as he grabbed her arm, pulling it towards him as he tried to shimmy further into the truck. He suddenly lurched backwards and Y/N heard a sickening crack as wood connected with his skull. Lee rushed around the side of the truck and wrenched open the door. Y/N scooched over to give him enough room to get behind the wheel. 

“What the H-E-double hockey sticks was that?” Y/N cried, noticing the tears on her face for the first time. 

Lee threw the truck in reverse and gunned it back down the dirt road to the main highway. “I don’t know, baby. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I think so.” 

“Something is going in this town. That man, and others have been squatting in our cabin from the looks of things. I’m calling the sheriff as soon as I get you home. He’ll figure it out. Maybe they have something to do with the two missing people,” Lee pondered as he slowed down as the highway came into his rearview mirror. He straightened the truck out and put her in drive, heading back towards town.

“Who’s missing? Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N asked. 

“Coupla regulars down at the bar. I reported it to the sheriff. Not really the type of guys that people miss, but they hadn’t been in for a few nights and that’s not normal. Sheriff confirmed today, they just up and gone, or so he said,” Lee shrugged. 

Lee drove the last few miles into town silent with his hand clutching Y/N’s. He pulled into her driveway and cut the engine before getting out to open her door. Always the gentleman, Lee walked Y/N to the door, but this time he came inside. “What’re you doing, mister? My mama’s upstairs!” 

“Just checking that all the doors and windows are locked. Gotta make sure my girl is safe,” he winked at her before he went up to the second floor. He returned moments later. “All set upstairs.”

When he was satisfied with his inspection of the first floor, he came to a stop in front of Y/N. She was leaning against the counter, a cup of tea next to her. She pulled him tight to her, fingers trembling as she grabbed his shirt. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t. I’m here.” He pressed his lips to the side of her head, holding her gently, as if he was afraid she’d break. 

~*~

The library was empty the next day as Y/N settled behind the counter, her third cup of coffee in hand. She didn’t want to work today, but since Miss Birdie was out of town visiting her grandchildren there was no one else to open the library. It’s a library, so it is usually quiet, but it was too quiet. Even the online courses couldn’t drown out the quiet today as she followed along and took notes. 

Y/N was lost in the online lecture until the bell above the door dinged, reminding her she was still at work. A tall young man, dressed in a leather jacket walked through, smiling at her as he passed the desk. He headed to the back, where the periodicals are kept. Y/N returned to her laptop, but now unable to concentrate on anything for longer than a few minutes, her mind occupied with Lee, their “future” and the events of the last few days. She sighed and gathered the stack of books next to her, adding them to the cart for restocking.

It took less of her time than she hoped to return the books to their rightful place on the shelf. Y/N went back to the desk and closed her laptop, stowing it in her bag, when she heard a voice from the back. 

“Dad, I’m telling you, there’s nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch!” The young man was on his phone, waving his free arm in annoyance. “Yeah, okay. Bye.” 

Y/N looked at the clock, noticing the time. “Sir, we’re closing in a few minutes.” 

He was walking towards her, a confident swagger in his step. He winked at Y/N as he passed. “Thanks, Sweetheart.” 

She flipped the lights off and followed the young man out the door, locking the doors behind them. Y/N took a deep breath of fresh air and hooked her bag across her body, starting the walk home. It was just past five in the evening and the weather was perfect, not too hot yet, but warmer than it had been. She smiled, making her way down the street. She wanted to rush home and get supper ready to bring to Lee down at the bar. 

He was working so hard, for them, for their future, and he deserved home cooking more than he got it. Y/N swung left through the small forest in the middle of town. It would easily cut ten minutes off her walk and that was more time to cook for her boyfriend. Lee was indeed her boyfriend, and hopefully, with the way he talked, her future husband. Y/N smiled at that. Husband. 

~*~

Y/N had said she would bring him supper even after he told her she didn’t need to. She just said he needed to eat proper and if he was being honest, he liked it. He was in love with that girl. Lee wanted to make her his wife, provide a future for her, for a family. He wanted to make her happy, even if that was letting her bring him supper at work, for now. He was such a goner. And for the first time in his life, he was okay with that. 

The bar wasn’t busy being a weeknight and all, but it was still early, only a hair past nine. A few regulars at the bar, a couple new faces playing pool, and a handful taking up tables. Y/N should have been there by now, or at least called. Lee started to worry. He should call her and check in. He should have told her to stay home, with everything that was going on. He cursed himself as he reached for his phone. It started vibrating in my pocket. Y/N’s picture lit up the screen and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Baby? Are you alright? I was so worried!” Lee blurted out. 

“Can you please come get me?” Y/N sniffed and she sounded small, almost fragile. 

“Where are you?” He asked, signaling Ed he needed to leave. 

“I think I’m at the cabin. I don’t know. Someone grabbed me on my way home from work, and now it’s dark. I don’t know, Lee,” she was crying so hard, he could barely understand her. 

“The cabin? I’m on my way, baby. Hold tight!” Lee was already in his truck before the call disconnected. The cabin was only about ten minutes outside of town, but he wasn’t obeying traffic laws that night. Lee needed to get to her and now. 

The waning moon barely broke through the cover of the trees overhead as he eased his truck down the narrow drive. There were no other vehicles in sight, so if someone had brought her here, they had done it on foot, or left already. Either way, it didn’t sit right. What did someone want with her? Sure, Lee hadn’t always been a law abiding citizen, but he had done his time, made his peace with God, and changed his ways. Y/N made Lee Webb a better man. He wanted to be a better man for her. 

He killed the engine and slowly opened the door, trying to be quiet. Lee searched the bed of his truck, looking for a weapon of any kind, and all he could find was a length of rusty pipe. It would have to do. He slid around the back of the cabin, searching for any sign of movement or sound, but it was quiet. Almost too quiet. He crept up the back steps and the door was ajar. Someone had been there recently. Lee pushed it open and walked inside. Something fast moved in front of him and before he knew what hit him, he was flat on his back, the air knocked out of his lungs, his weapon rolling across the sagging floor.  

“I knew you’d come for me!” Y/N cried out, straddling Lee. 

“Y/N? Baby, what happened? How did you get here? Are you okay?” The questions flew from his mouth faster than he could process the lewd smile on her face. 

“I don’t know! One minute I was walking home from the library, taking the shortcut through the woods, when a man grabbed me. I think he knocked me out, or I passed out, I don’t know. But when I woke up, I was here. Alone. I don’t know what happened or where they went, but I knew you would come for me,” Y/N recounted the events since she left work rapidly. 

“Of course I came. You’re my girl and I’m going to protect you and take care of you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, but I’m here now, baby. I’ve got you,” Lee cooed softly, holding her tight to him, just relishing in her safety for the moment. 

“I was so scared,” Y/N sniffed, her face buried in the crook of his neck. 

“Shhhh, I’ve got you now. It’s okay,” he soothed before pulling back and inspecting her carefully. Y/N looked okay, a little disheveled, but she didn’t appear to have any injuries that he could see immediately. “What else do you remember? Anyone come into work today?” 

Y/N shook her head. “A few families came in for story time, Billy and his girlfriend, Jenna, to study for a couple hours.” Then she remembered. “There was a man, a man I didn’t recognize. He was tall, wearing a dark jacket, maybe gray. He had um, spiky, light brown hair, and was wearing a necklace, with a weird looking pendant on it.” 

“I saw that guy tonight. At the bar. He was with another man, an older guy. Thought they were just a father and son, having a beer and playing some pool. Son of a bitch!” Lee growled, knowing exactly the man she was talking about. “I’m calling the Sheriff.” 

“No, baby, don’t. We can do that later. Just hold me,” Y/N begged, putting her face back into his neck. 

He was angry and scared that someone took her, but his instincts to hold her won. Her body was warm against him and he let his thoughts linger over what she would feel like laid out beneath him. They hadn’t gone far in that department, as much as he wanted to. He loved her enough to respect her wishes and she wanted to wait until they were married. Lee thought it was sweet, and he did love her. He had been with many women who were quick to please, but none of them could hold a candle to the woman he held in his arms.

He felt her shift above him, slowly grinding her hips into his as she licked and sucked along his neck. Lee attempted to stop her. “Y/N, baby. This isn’t what you want. You’re scared and you need me to tell you you’re okay. I’m going to do that, but not like this, okay? I told you I’d wait for you and I will.” 

“I don’t care anymore about some stupid promise. I want you now,” Y/N bucked into him harder, and he responded in kind, despite how strong he thought he could be. 

“No, not like this. If we do this before we get married, we’ll do it proper, not on the floor of a dirty, run-down cabin,” Lee gasped, pulling back, but she didn’t loosen her grip on him. 

“No!” Y/N screamed, biting down hard into the meat of his neck. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! What the hell was that?” Lee screamed, pushing her back and jumping off the floor. 

“I’m the new and improved Y/N. If you won’t fuck me, maybe one of these men will,” Y/N smiled wickedly, Lee’s blood dripping from her lips, and that’s when Lee noticed they weren’t alone. Two men slinked from the shadows and stared him down. 

Lee looked around the room, gauging the distance to each of the two exits, when he spotted a body by the front door, slumped over. And another near the hall. “What is going on here, Y/N?” 

“Oh, we gave your girl here a makeover. Stronger, faster, better. We’re immortal and we’re going to live a long, bloody life with her by our side. Eat up, baby girl,” one of the men said, grinning as he took in the look on her face. She was hungry and he knew the feeling too well. 

“Come here, baby. I want a taste. It’s your choice. I change you and we live happily ever after. Or, I bleed you dry and my new friends here will be my first, and second. What’s it going to be, baby?” Y/N laughed maniacally as she advanced on Lee. “You want a real taste of this tight little body? Make me cum over and over for eternity?” 

“No, this isn’t you, Y/N!” Lee shouted, rounding the small table, trying to put a little distance between them. 

The front door blew open, wood flying through the small cabin. The two men from the bar entered, blades raised. 

“No, it isn’t Y/N!” the older one announced and the first two men advanced on the newcomers. 

Lee watched in disbelief, possibly shock as well, as the older man swung his blade, easily decapitating the first man as Y/N screamed, launching herself at him. The younger fought against the second guy, fists flying and grunts filling the small room. It was like a well choreographed fight scene from an action movie until another head rolled to a stop next to him. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Lee demanded. 

“We can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me.” The younger man approached him, while his father restrained Y/N. 

“Trust you? You just killed two men and I should trust you?” Lee bellowed. “This is my house and you better explain yourself right now!” 

“Those were not men. They were monsters. They took your girl here and changed her. She’s a monster, just like them. And now, she’ll die, just like them.” The older one spoke, dragging Y/N to a chair and securing her tightly. He pulled his machete from its sheath and lifted it high, ready to swing. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just stop! What the hell are you talking about? Tell me now!” Lee demanded. 

“My name is Dean Winchester and this is my dad, John,” Dean said. He then pointed to the headless men on the floor. “Those are, were, vampires. And that is a newborn vampire.” He gestured to Y/N tied to the chair. 

Lee looked at the girl, the woman, he swore to love forever. Her teeth were bared, long blood stained fangs brushing against the soft pink of her lips he had kissed so many times. He looked down at himself, the front of his shirt bright red with blood. Then he remembered she bit him. 

“You bit me?” Lee asked her. 

“You are my first meal, or should have been, if these assholes hadn’t interrupted dinner time,” she laughed. “I was going to feed on you, then turn you so you were like me and we could live forever, fucking and killing, the way it should have been.” 

“What?” Lee asked, still reeling. 

“Vamps think they should rule the world. No cares, just living out their basics instincts, for an eternity,” John announced. 

“Feeding and fucking, “ Dean shrugged, a small smirk on his face. “Now, Y/N, sweetheart, do you have anything you want to say before we chop your head off?” 

“Fuck you!” Y/N spat at the two hunters. She looked to Lee, her teeth returned to normal and smiled sweetly at him, a small glimpse of the girl he loved. “Please don’t tell my mother. Tell her I’m in heaven, please. I’m so sorry, Lee. I really do love you.” 

Lee took one step closer, aching to kiss her once last time.  “Y/N, I’ll love you forever.” 

“Dean, son, take him outside, he doesn’t need to see this,” John ordered his son. 

“Come on, man. Let’s take a walk.” 

Lee hesitated, but Y/N just nodded and smiled. He turned and stepped out into the cool night, Dean by his side. He flinched when he heard a thump from inside the cabin. Their cabin. Where he planned to love her, start a family with her. Funny how forever can be severed by the sharp knife of a short life. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, before letting it out and opening them again. 

He looked down at his shirt with tears in his eyes before looking back up and meeting Dean’s eyes. “That’s...a lot of blood.” Lee dropped to his knees in the dirt.

“You’re going to be okay. Eventually,” Dean told him, pressing a cloth to the side of his neck. “I’m sorry this happened to you, to your girlfriend. Everyone has a story. This is how yours starts.”

~*~

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

~*~

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​ @evansrogerskitten​ @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​ @wotinspntarnation​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​ @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @manawhaat​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​  @imaginationisgrowth​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @deans-baby-momma​ 

The Dean’s List/Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants  @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-jackles @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deanwanddamons

[copias-thrall]

But Can You Hang?

⬅️Previous

Another milestone—will Suey pass or fail?

“It’s just some beers with my crew. Kinda a pre-New Year’s thing, but smaller. I still gotta work and shit later.”

You hadn’t even been home 24hrs before Mary was banging through your door. You’d all but collapsed the night before, shooting off a text to Mary warning him against disturbing you upon pain of death. He’d kept to the letter of the law, if not the spirit.

Christmas had been fun but full—complete with a Christmas Eve ice storm that had knocked out the power and left the lot of you to drink all the supplies by candlelight before huddling into a pile of sleeping bags and blankets for warmth. Christmas Day had been a mess of transferring food from the fridge into the snow and sledding down the frozen street hill on cardboard boxes, trying not to sustain any life-threatening injuries. Power had come on just before dusk, and it had been someone’s bright idea to turn the oven up to max to cook the partially defrosted turkey faster. That had ended with a kitchen full of smoke and a bird that was blackened on the outside and still frozen on the inside. In the end, you’d all chipped in for a traditional spread of Chinese takeout. All-in-all, it was three days of shenanigans and drinking (and subtle digs at you for “settling down”), and the morning of the fourth was filled with painkillers and regret.

The drive back was quiet while you all contemplated your poor life decisions and passed around the pickle juice. When you got back to your place, you’d dumped your stuff by the couch and crawled immediately into bed.

“Ok,” you say as you try to sort through your pile of mail. Mary had finally taken a firm stand(“If this mountain falls on me one more time, I’m burning it, Suey.” “Don’t touch my things!” “Then deal with them!”). He’d come over the other week with a metal mail organizer that has seen better days (“Did you pick this out of the trash?” “Naw. I got it from my buddy Big Stevie. He might have got it from the trash.”), so you’ve been making an effort to deal with your inbox.

Since the couch has been commandeered by piles of envelopes, Mary leans against the wall. “It’ll only be for a couple of hours.”

“Ok,” you say again, absently—you’re trying to discern if this one particular item is junk or one of those clandestine correspondences from your bank.

“So ….”

“So have fun.” You rip the envelope open with your nail file and—ta da! Junk mail. At the lack of response from Mary, you look up. He’s giving you an unreadable look. “What? Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound so short. I really don’t mind if you want to go drink with your friends. I hope you don’t think you need to ask my permission …”

Mary presses his fingers into his eyes.

“I’m not asking permission, you daft cow—I’m asking you to come with me.”

“Oh.”

When you don’t continue, he tries again. ��So: do you want to come with me? Meet my friends before the party and all?”

You look down at your lap covered in tattered paper.

Your brain catches up to what he’s saying, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You hear the paper crumple in your hands when you say, “This is a meet your friends thing?”

“Uh, yeah?” He squints at you.

You make an agitated noise in your throat, and you begin to stack your letters back together. Mary throws out his hands.

“What are you doing?!”

“Jesus, Mary—I look like death warmed over and I feel like a mealy potato. A little fucking warning would have been nice. Now I have to perform magic.”

"You were so close!” he whines as you drop the pile back in the place mail goes to die.

You stomp to your room and slam the door shut so that you can rifle through the clothes on the hook. It’s a surprise when the door opens and you’re beaned in the face.

“Ow, FUCK.”

“Oh shit, sorry!”

“Why didn’t you knock?!” you say as you rub your nose.

“I—because … why were you just standing behind the door?!”

Glaring at him, you gesture at the clothes. His eyes follow your hand.

“Oh.” He looks back and you and suddenly starts laughing.

“It’s not funny, asshole.”

He’s still chuckling when he leans over, grabbing your chin to tilt up your face.

“Hmm.” He pretends to examine your face, eyes darting around to assess the damage.

“Well, will I live, doctor?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll be all right. Might need to amputate the nose, though.”

“That bad?”

“Yes. It’s terrible.”

“A lot of bruising, then?”

“It’s definitely an eyesore.”

You lean forward and stick your tongue into his nostril. Mary sputters out an Ack as he stumbles backwards away from you. He’s pulling at his nose and scrunching his face at you.

“Don’t be fucking weird.”

“I’ll do whatever I damn well please, Mary Goore” you say, as you go back to rifling through your options, tossing choices onto your bed. Mary wanders over and reclines on your bed; he paws through your discards and occasionally holds one up to himself. You settle on a graphic tee that you altered into a halter and a denim miniskirt; you shimmy out of your loungewear and then into the mini.

Suddenly Mary presses himself into your back and pins you against your door. His hand slips down the curve of your ass and under your skirt, fingers pressing on your perineum. You gasp.

“Mmm, I like this skirt very much.” He massages you. “Can I fuck you in it?”

“But—oh fuck—but your friends …?” You press back into him and feel his erection on your ass.

“My friends know I live on Mary Standard Time—now: can I fuck you. In this skirt?”

He leans down to suck a bruise into your neck as his other hand wraps around to squeeze at a nipple. You groan, then turn around so you suck his lips into your mouth. He hums an Mmm into your kiss, and you make quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them down his legs. The two of you fumble until you’ve got your legs and arms wrapped around him and he’s got his arms hooked under your thighs, pressing you against the door. He lets an arm go and quickly maneuvers his dick inside you.

“Oh fuck … oh fuck,” he chants when the tip enters you.

You cry out, “Oh shit—slowly, Mare.”

He looks up at you, face red and body trembling. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you say, “just not so fast—I’m not … I wasn’t …”

“Yeah, ok—sorry.”

He rocks his pelvis slowly, easing himself deeper into you inch by inch with every thrust. His forehead is pressed to yours.

“You feel so good. So wet around my cock. Your fucking cunt—so tight.”

You moan at his words as he continues to ease his cock in and out of you.

“Fucking love how you give me your cock, Mary.”

Mary starts to speed up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You like my fucking cock inside you?”

“Fucking fills me up so good.”

His mouth finds yours, and he presses his tongue into you gracelessly. With every increasing thrust of his hips, you can hear the door jolt against its hinges. All you can really do is koala onto him tight as he struggles to fuck into you. Without warning, he turns and tosses you onto your bed. You bounce once as he’s shucking off his jeans and then crawling over you and guiding himself back inside.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

You do, and he straightens himself up onto his knees, his one hand reaching down to thumb at your pulsing clit. He starts pumping into you again, and you reach your arms behind you to brace yourself.

“Wanna see it,” he pants. “Wanna see your face when you cum around my cock. Wanna see you come undone because of me.” There’s a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“So eager to please me, Mary” you purr. “Such a good boy. Is my good boy going to make me cum?”

Mary whines low in his throat. He slows his thrusts, shifting around until you moan when he hits your G-spot. He concentrates on that spot as he uses your slick to slip slide his thumb on your ever-hardening clit. You’re breathing out oh my god oh my god oh my god.

“Fucking. Hand me your vibrator—I want you to squirt all over me.”

You loll your head around until you can see where your vibrator is poking out from under your pillow. You grapple behind you until you’ve got a hold of it. Mary all but tears it from your grasp as you offer it to him. You’re about to remind him what settings you like, when he just turns it on and places it directly on your clit.

“OH FUCKING SHIT,” you cry out as the stimulation is ramped up to 100—and then your pussy explodes in hot burts. You feel the telltale trickle as you do indeed squirt messily all over his cock before jerking away from the overstimulation.

You lose a little time as you wait for the pulsating throb between your legs to calm down, but tune back in easily enough when you feel the splatter of Mary’s cum on your nethers.

You lazily gaze up at him as he finishes squeezing every last drop from his cock—the pink of his cockhead disappearing and reappearing in his fist. When he’s satisfied, his whole body slumps, and then he’s flopping down beside you, practically trying to merge with you as he presses his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Oh fuck, that was so hot.”

He’s grabbing at your curves and biting along your shoulder. You tolerate it for the moment, scritching at his scalp.

"Mmm … very good. Thank you.”

He sighs, and one of his hands brushes over your still-hard nipples. If he keeps that up, you guys will never leave, so you sit up, jostling his hand away.

“Shit,” you say, looking down at yourself and the bed.

“What?”

“Nothing, just—this skirt and basically everything on my bed are toast.”

Mary follows your gaze. “Oh,” he says, but he’s smiling wickedly at you.

You roll off the bed and begin to tug off your skirt.

“Ok, Mr. Way-Too-Pleased-With-Himself—since I have to shower, you can deal with shoving these in the washer.”

Mary pouts at you even as he’s making movements toward stripping your bed.

“A shower?! We’re running late, you know. Can’t you just—wipe off?”

You give him a mean lemon face.

He grins at you.

* * *

Because half your passable outside clothes got slimed in your and Mary’s amorous interlude, you had a limited wardrobe to pick from. You ended up in a shapeless, cream knit-tunic dress—which you had to dye brown with a tea wash due to the numerous stains (can’t take you anywhere)—paired with a wide belt, grey argyle tights, and your peeling docs.

You’re giving him Grump Face, but he’s just beaming at you.

“I’m not sorry. And you look hot. Stop fussing.”

He ushers you into his neighborhood dive bar, a light hand at the small of your back. You’ve definitely been here before—never in context with Mary—usually as a stop on a bar crawl. It’s an old man pub during the day and a punk go to after hours. Mary steers you toward a high-top where there are maybe 5 people congregating with various levels of beer consumption. They’re all on the punk scale—ranging from dirty gutter punk to clean & stylized.

When they see Mary, they all perk up. There are high-fives and back slaps and hugs. Mary steps back and introduces you to everyone—you’re so intent on smiling normally and not like The Joker that you immediately forget everyone’s name.

“So you do exist,” says the woman with perfect winged eyeliner and a mustard beanie.

“Unfortunately,” you quip, and they give you a polite chuckle.

There are a few more careful questions about you before the conversation turns to one of familiar friends rehashing old grounds. Mary is happy, at ease, content to give as good as he gets. You’re content to sip your beers and do a round of shots as they joke and gripe at each other. There’s not much you can do to contribute—it’s not like you were there the night they got pissed and decided to egg cop cars, or have any point of reference for what Ed looked like when he burned half his scalp and a chunk of his hair fell out after he ignored the at-home bleach kit instructions. But Mary’s arm drapes over your shoulders like a letterman jacket, and you’ve rooted your hand firmly in one of his back pockets—a firm statement of inclusion.

Kara (much less makeup and in a ratty tee and jeans) and Elsie (mustard beanie), have gone to get another round of shitty lite beer, when you beg off to visit the ladies' room.

“You ok?” Mary mummers in your ear.

“Other than having to pee like a racehorse, I’m peachy,” you retort.

He sends you off with a playful slap to your ass.

A dive bar bathroom is a dive bar bathroom is a dive bar bathroom—but this one doesn’t reek too bad. You slip into a stall, happy to relieve the pressure on your bladder. You suddenly become aware that Kara and Elsie are in the big stall; you wonder if you should say something, but you’re 100% sure the 3 of you aren’t at bathroom stalls-level of friendship yet. So you just do your business.

You’re rethinking your decision when it’s clear their discussion turns to you.

“So what do you think of her?”

“Mary’s so-called girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

The toilet flushes.

“Mmm. She’s ok, I guess. Seems nice enough.”

“Yeah, she seems totally sweet.”

“But … ”

“Yeah.”

The stall’s door lock clicks, and it opens.

“Like, a nice girl—but what’s she doing with Mary?”

“Yeah, I don’t get … them.”

“I was expecting … I dunno. Apparently she’s supposed to be this big-ass bitch, and … I just don’t see it?”

The faucets turn on.

“Right?! Exactly! She’s kinda … ?”

“… mousey?”

“I mean—for Mary, anyway. He’s kinda a handful. I love him to death—you know I do—but he’s obsessed with keeping his dick wet. Can you really see her … ?”

The automatic driers turn on.

“I mean, whatever. If he’s happy. Maybe there are hidden depths.”

“Oh absolutely. As long as he’s happy. And if she can hang, whatever.”

The driers stop.

“Maybe we just gotta get her loosened up! More shots!”

The creak of the bathroom door as it opens.

“Yes! It’s always the quiet ones.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Mousey? Well, you’ll show them mousey.

Not wanting to come back immediately after them, you spend a little time primping in the corroded mirror. When you get back to the table, you note that Kara and Elsie are looking at you with wide eyes.

“Was gonna send a search party. Beginning to think you fell in!” says Mary as his arm comes back around you.

You smile widely at him. “You know how the lines are.”

“Pfft. Like you care about lines.” He turns to the group and grins. “That’s how we met, after all. Coming out of a stall in the men’s room”

“Whatever,” you sniff as you toss your hair. “You’d’ve been on my shit one way or another. Everyone knows you can’t resist a pair of big tits.”

Ed (green hair fins and a wardrobe like Mary’s—denim, patched and studded) does a spit take and Trevor (black beanie, striped shirt, and angel bite piercings) thumps him on the back a few times.

Mary mock gasps at you. “Suey! My delicate sensibilities!”

You grab your boobs and waggle them at him as you stick out your tongue.

“Hey! That’s my job!” Mary leers at you, and his hands lunge for your chest; you smack them away, hard. “Fuck, ow,” he yips as he shakes out his hand, but he’s smiling.

The group just looks on, bemused.

“Let’s get more shots,” you say to Mary. “I heard they can loosen you up.” You give the women across the table a wink.

Mary follows you without protest, raising his eyebrows when he realizes you’re tugging him toward the bathrooms.

“What’re you up to?”

You pull him in close and cup your hand around his junk.

“I want to give you a blow job.”

Mary’s chest rumbles. His hand clasps your wrist, but he doesn’t remove yours.

“Why?”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “You just got me thinking. Memory lane and all.”

He looks over his shoulder. “But my friends …”

You knead his balls, and his eyes close as he sways into you.

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” you murmur into his jawline. “Lips wrapped around your—”

“Fuck, Suey. You don’t play fair.”

“You know how much I love sucking your cock.”

“Shit. Yeah. Yeah.” He presses his semi into your hand. “Look what you’ve started. You fucking better suck me now.”

“Men’s room. Last stall. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

He straightens up, and you watch him waddle stiffly to the restroom.

You hum the tune of a song you think is about 5min, and then you head to the men’s room. When you bang in, there’s a dude at the stalls who screams at you as he covers his dick.

“You can’t be in here!”

“Your dick’s not special!” you scream back.

When you open the door of the last stall, Mary’s standing there with his pants half down and his hard dick in his hand. You crowd into him, kissing him full and hard.

“Fuck. I’m gonna be in so much shit with my friends. Look at what you do to me.”

You bite his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth.

“They don’t think I can handle you. Think you’re gonna get your dick wet elsewhere. Are you gonna do that? Are you gonna do that when my mouth is pliant and ready?”

Mary’s hands come up to cup your face.

“Hey,” he says as he makes you meet his eyes. “I’m not gonna … I’m not gonna ‘wet my dick’ elsewhere. They don’t know everything.” He thumbs your lips, eyes hooded. “I love your sweet little mouth,” his eyes sweep back up to yours, “but I’m not here for that.”

You give his dick a squeeze and he grunts.

“Ok—you offered to suck me off, and I’m here for that … but in life, in general, that's not why I—not why you’re my baby doll.” His finger lightly taps the necklace pendant.

“I’m not boring,” you say as you mouth at him.

“Hey, hey hey—” he says as he clasps your roving hands. “Is this why we’re here?”

You lead one of his hands under your tunic and into your panties. You’re slick with excitement, and you want him to feel you; he lets out a soft Fuck.

“Maybe a little, but you also get me going when you’re all Mean Skeleton Mary,” you say as you drop to your knees.

Usually you play with Mary a little. Suckle and trace his tip in a tease before sucking him down whole. But now you’re in a time crunch, so you take him down as far as you can go in the first shot. He moans and grasps your hair. You deep throat him, and it’s a messy business—tears stream out your eyes as you gag and half choke on his dick—but you love the sounds he makes (short gasps and half-whispered swears) and the way his legs tremble. He lets you set the pace—his one hand resting on the back of your head and the other lightly petting your cheek—so you alternate between hollowing out your cheeks and swallowing around him, relishing whenever he lets out a Fuck.

Someone bangs on the door at some point, and Mary yells at them to fuck off, but otherwise the unofficial ettiquette seems to state that the other patrons let whomever the lucky bastard is get his.

When you can tell that he’s getting close, you maneuver his other hand onto your head to encourage him to fuck your face. “Fuck yeah,” he breathes as he grips tight into your hair and starts thrusting into your mouth—shallow at first, and then deeper as he gets his bearings. You relax your jaw, making glup glup glup noises as his cockhead hits the back of your throat. If you weren’t using your hands to brace yourself, you’d be working one between your legs to ease the growing throb there.

Mary’s panting hard now, and he lets out a grunt as he shoves your head down, holding you in place for a moment. You feel his dick throb, and then he’s yanking your head back up. You suck in some air and cough a little before he guides his dick back into your mouth. He slips his other hand down to hook his thumb in your mouth.

“Can I cum on your face?” he gasps as he continues to thrust into you. You hum around his cock, and he pulls out of your mouth, hand quickly jacking himself before his cum splatters hot and sticky on your face. Head back and eyes closed, he rubs his cockhead on your lips, and you suck him in again—relishing his groan as he cock gives another throb before softening in your mouth.

He pulls you up and kisses you (“Fuck, I’m covered in your jizz, Mare.” “I don’t give a shit.”) before using the bottom of his shirt to wipe off the both of you.

“What a gentleman.”

“Fuck you.”

His hand travels under your dress to press between your legs, and you sway into him with a breathy Ah.

“Shit—you’re practically soaked through.” His head dips to your neck. “Christ. I bet the whole bar could smell you.”

His hand is still pressing into you, and suddenly the thought of spending the rest of the night with this heaviness between your legs seems untenable. “Oh fuck! Touch me, Mare!”

His hand fumbles to work itself into your tights and panties as you find his mouth. You suck his tongue as the pad of his finger starts easily circling your clit, and you suck harder—fingers digging into his arms—as he flicks your nub then taps a morse code on it. As he does another round, you press into him, and he stumbles a bit until his back hits the grody tiles of the wall. You’re making little gasping noises that escape out the corner of your mouth as you rock not just into his hand, but the whole line of his body.

By the time you’re ready to pop, you’re butting your head into his chest and shaking with need. Mary’s got expert fingers, but you’re still standing up and in a busy bathroom. You mewl every time you reach the crest but not quite—hands now fisted into Mary’s shirt.

Suddenly Mary’s breath is hot on your ear.

“What a little whore you are. So fucking desperate to cum you’ll fuck anywhere. Is my dick not enough? Maybe I should unlock this door and have you open for business. Let any guy who comes in stick his dick in you somewhere, have you plugged up in—”

With a burst of adrenaline, you finally rise over the hill and crash down fast. “Ughn, Mare,” you cry out as you press into him, his finger busy still massaging your clit as you spasm with orgasm.

You’re still buried in Mary’s chest when he finally removes his hand and wipes his fingers on his jeans.

“Hey,” he says, shaking you a bit. “Can’t sleep here.”

You grunt, but pull away from him, albeit reluctantly.

“Christ, they’re gonna think we left.”

“Nah,” you say as you fumble with the industrial no-ply toilet paper roll that only seems to want to come off in bite-sized tears. “Our coats are still there. You’d never leave without your jacket.” You pry the dispenser open so you can maneuver the roll in bigger chunks.

“What’re you doing?”

“I don’t want to be sticky all night.”

Mary licks his lips.

“Nuh-uh, mister.” You surreptitiously begin to clean yourself.

“Whatever. As if you weren’t just trying to suck my tongue out of my mouth. I swear one day you’re gonna suck it right off.” He gives you a vulpine smile. “Save that hoover for my dick.”

“If I sucked your tongue out of your mouth, I’d just use it in tandem when I sucked your cock.”

Mary looks at you aghast as you dispose of the toilet paper in the toilet and flush with the toe of your boot.

“You’ve been spending way too much time around me.”

You just grin at him.

As you leave the stall, Mary glares at anyone who dares to even glance in the direction of the two of you. No one else yells at your presence.

After washing up the best you can without a mirror (and Mary flicking water at you), you tug him to the bar where the two of you order the round you promised to get a blow job ago. While the bartender is setting up the glasses, Mary leans in to whisper,

“Hey, do you want to play?”

You turn to look at him. “Play how?”

He pulls at your clothes. “We could do that thing I talked about.”

You perk up. “You want me to take charge of you?”

Mary’s dilated eyes suddenly focus on yours. “You know I love it when you tell me what to do”

Lightly, you grab his jaw. “In front of all your friends?”

“You and I want the same thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He reaches up to thumb at an invisible smear of makeup on your chin. “To show them I can be handled.”

“That’s grossly romantic, Goore.”

“Mebbe,” he says, pulling you in close.

“Ugh,” you grunt at him as you tip your head away.

“Is that a no?”

You roll your head back around to face him.

“No, it’s definitely a ‘yes’.” You rub your thumb across his bottom lip, smearing what’s left of his matte red down his chin. “But not because I’m smushy.” You get right up in his face. “Because I like telling you what to do. From now until when you leave, I own your ass. You don’t do anything without my permission.”

“Fuck. What you do to me, woman.”

You jab a finger into his chest. “That includes talking, mister. You got that? Nod if you understand?”

Mary nods.

“Mmm,” you grin. “Such a good boy already.”

The bartender sets down the shots on a platter and shoots you both a sideways glance.

“Well,” you gesture at Mary, “those aren’t going to carry themselves.” You turn away, then look back over your shoulder. “Don’t spill a drop.”

Mary quickly, but carefully, takes up the tray. You make your way through the crowd, and you don’t look back at Mary, trusting him to safely transport the drinks.

When you join the table again, everyone seems to zero in on your smeared face. You try to give them a friendly smile.

“Mary’s just behind me with the shots.”

The table erupts with a cheer as Mary appears at your elbow, carefully setting down the platter.

“For fuck’s sake, Mary,” grunts Elsie. “Half your makeup is gone, and the other half is smeared on her!”

There’s some assorted snickering as Mary just shrugs and you preen.

“Classic Mary,” snorts Dee (metal shirt and black jeans).

“Christ, we were wondering what was taking so long,” says Kara.

“Dominance fuck,” you quip just as Ed’s taking another sip of beer. He sprays it everywhere again—Trevor just managing to jump out of the splash zone—and the whole table bursts out laughing.

“Jesus,” Ed says as he wipes his chin. Trevor hands him a used cocktail napkin.  “Mary, tell your girl to quit doing that.

Smirking, Mary just holds his hands out, palm up.

As Ed pats himself dry, the others take up their shot glasses; you notice a wet spot on the tray. Catching Mary’s eyes, you point to the droplet.

“Mary.” Mary looks at you, eyes big at your tone. “Tell me what this is.”

“Someone bumped into me.”

“That’s an excuse. I told you not to spill any. What do we say?”

Mary speaks down into the table. “Um, well—”

“Don’t mumble” You lift his chin up so that he has to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry I spilled the drinks.”

You pat his cheek. “It’s ok, Mare Bear. You did your best.”

His friends are staring at you, but they all look away as you turn back to the table. You pick up your own shot glass.

“What are we toasting to?

“To shenanigans both old a new!” says Dee.

Everyone holds up their shot glasses, except Mary. Mary looks plaintively over at you.

You nod, and Mary picks up his shot glass.

“To shenanigans both old a new,” he echoes as he raises the glass.

Everyone clinks and shoots. Trevor and Dee slam their glasses back on the table before chugging their lite beer. Ed’s dribbles out the corner of his mouth, and he lets out a wet Fuck. Elsie downs hers in one go, but Kara takes a couple of gulps—some of it dribbling down her chin like Ed. Elsie laughs at her and calls her a sloppy bitch. You manage to get yours down in two swallows before taking a swig of beer. A professional drinker, Mary downed his with ease, setting the shot glass down without slamming it. He looks at the beer.

“You want a chaser?”

Mary nods.

“All right, come here.”

He shuffles over, and you carefully tip the contents of the beer bottle into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile at him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see looks shoot across the table at each other.

When he’s satisfied, you bring the bottle back down, and he crowds into you. His hand finds the small of your back, and he’s practically purring.

Someone clears their throat. “So, uh, Suey,” says Dee, “you’re an accountant or something?”

“Paralegal,” you correct.

“How does that even happen?” asks Elsie.

“Ah, well. It was the only thing I could think of to do with my pre-law degree.”

Mary looks at you sharply, and—oh oops. You hadn’t quite shared that with him yet.

“Long, boring story.” You wave it away. “What about you? You’re a … graphic artist?”

She beams. “Took a while, but I finally got my degree from SCAD, and now I’m a junior designer at some tech start up.”

The conversation blossoms from there, and it’s actually much easier with his friends after that. You find yourself heavily contributing to the conversation in between giving Mary permission to talk or feeding him a drink—which becomes the elephant in the room that no one seems brave enough to address. Kara & Elsie … well—they're unreadable, but aren’t actively being bitchy, so you consider that a win.

At one point you notice that Mary is squirming excessively.

“What’s the matter,” you ask softly.

“Have to piss,” he whispers in your ear.

“So ask if you can piss, Mary,” you whisper back.

He hesitates, then says quietly, “Can I go to the bathroom?”

You run a finger under his chin. “You may. But no side quests. There and back, got it?”

Mary nods emphatically then practically propels off his stool in his haste.

When you turn back to the table, Kara and Elsie are staring at you. You smile and waggle your empty glass.

“Excuse me,” you say, as you slide off your stool. You’re not 3 steps before Kara and Elsie flank you.

“Ok. What. The. Fuck,” says Kara, but she’s smiling.

You grin wolfishly at her.

“No, I echo that,” says Elsie.

You shrug. “Mary likes a firm hand.”

Elsie snorts. “Clearly.”

“Yeah,” says Kara, “I thought he was going to unhinge his jaw and eat you.”

You smile wider. “He does do that.”

“Fucking get it,” Kara hoots.

“Let’s do another round without those losers,” says Elsie when the 3 of you get to the bar.

“Yeah!” Kara perks at the suggestion. “I wanna hear all the fucking dirt on Mary.”

You give her a Mona Lisa smile. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

She awkwardly wraps an arm around your shoulder. “We’ll get you there, babe.”

Somehow a round of shots turns into two, and by the time you guys get back to the high top, Mary is already there and shooting you daggers.

“Fucking finally,” says Trevor. Then, “Jesus—you didn’t even bring back a round of suds?”

The 3 of you look at each other and burst into giggles.

Ed sighs. “I’ll go get—”

“No,” say Dee and Trevor in unison.

“Fuck, man,” says Dee. “With your track record tonight I wouldn’t trust you with an unopened bottle. I’ll go.” He turns to the group. “So that’s … 7?”

“Oh!” you interject. “Just water for Mary. I doubt Mickey will be thrilled if he shows up sloshed.”

Mary pouts at you, but you just raise an eyebrow at him; he knows he can end this at any time.

“I know.” You pat his arm. “I’m the meanest girl in the world.”

Mary sighs but rests his head atop yours.

After that, Mary really does start downing water, and you switch to lite beer (and you give him blanket permission to make his subsequent frequent bathroom trips because you’re not a monster). You vaguely recall when he kisses the top of your head and heads off to Mickey’s bar. It’s a bit fuzzy, but the 3 dudes either leave with Mary or soon after—leaving you, Kara, & Elsie to continue to pound shots that you chase with shitty beer.

“Sssooo … was he like?” slurs Elsie.

“Hmm … Mary?”

“Yeah.”

“Like wha?”

“Jus like. Assa boyfrien.”

“Yeah. We all know he gots that D. Was the tea? Hah! I rhymed.”

You try and sort through your alcohol-addled brain.

“Hessa dumbass,” you slur back.

Kara starts cackling.

“But … but a good bean. Does my dishers. My disheshes. Fuck.”

“Fuck. Keep ‘em,” slurs Kara.

You slam your hand on the table.

“I fhuckhen intend to!”

It devolves from there with the 3 of you swapping weird sex stories then trying to one-up each other. Finally, they put you in a cab—which you scramble to pay for in cash because your card is still at the bar—and you stumble drunkenly up to your apartment. You’re still trying to figure out how your keys work (wait—how did you get into your building?), when the door opens.

“Jesus fucking christ, Suey. Where the fuck have you been? It’s nearly 4am and your phone’s dead.”

You teeter forward and press your face into Mary’s chest. He smells like beer, the decal on his band tee, and sweaty boy.

“Shmells niss,” you murmur.

“Oh my god—you’re shitfaced,” you hear him say.

“Yer friens are niss.”

“Ok, drunkee. C’mere.”

Mary leads you to the couch and proceeds to make you drink lots of water (“No. FULL.” “Shut up and keep drinking.” “Hate you.” “I know.”), and then wrangles you out of your clothes and into bed.

* * *

When you wake up the next morning, everything is awful. You can’t focus on anything without feeling ill, and your stomach insists you ate a whole bag of gummy bears. You let out a sound that you’re sure only dying animals make. As if on cue, Mary bustles in—fresh as a fucking daisy—with a plate of greasy eggs & bacon and a sports drink on your tray.

“Goooood morning, little rosebud.”

You squint at him. “I will murder your face.”

“You’d have to catch me first!” he chirps as he arranges everything and himself on the bed. He helps you sit up, and you sip at the drink with some painkillers as he configures the breakfast onto some toast. You let him maneuver a few bites into your mouth, before you curl back into yourself.

“Ok, Suey. Good job,” he says as he rubs your back.

You burp at him.

“Yeah, ok. Go back to sleep.”

When you wake up again, it’s much later. Somehow you’re sideways across Mary’s lap; he’s reading a book. You squint up at him.

“The fuck,” you say.

Mary collapses the book on his finger and looks down at you.

“You must be feeling better.”

You roll around and bury your face into his abdomen. He pets at your hair.

“Feel like finishing those eggs?”

Bile rises, and you jump up to run into the bathroom. You then proceed to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Gentle hands are there suddenly to hold back your hair.

When you finish and tumble back against the tub, he says, “You could have just said ‘no’ on the eggs.”

You burst into tears, and he pulls at you as you flail ineffectually against him. “No! I’m so gross and stupid.”

“Aww, baby doll, it’s just a hangover. I’ve spent most of my adult life hungover. You’ll live.”

He manages to get the tub going and coaxes you into it. Soon, the two of you are ensconced in a steaming bath.

“Baths are gross,” you grumble, even as you lean into the V of Mary’s support.

“Just shut up and enjoy it like a normal person.”

“Big into baths then?”

Mary hesitates, then says, “My mum. I know it sounds weird, but—with my dad gone? I’d run a bath for her—with these bath bombs?—to get into after she finished a double.”

“That’s really nice, Mare.” You hesitate, then continue, “You don’t really talk about what happened.”

A beat.

You take his pruning hand and kiss his knuckles to reassure him.

“Cancer. She had life insurance and shit, but … it mostly went to medical bills. Couldn’t keep the house.”

You wait, but he doesn’t go on.

“Sucks. I hate it for you.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you sit in the bath until it grows cold, you dozing against his chest while he gently splashes the water with the hand not hanging off the lip of the tub.

“More warm water, or … ?” he asks.

“Can we go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I can stay for a bit. Gotta work again tonight, though. So I can be free for New Year’s.”

When you’re nested back in your bed—body leaden and eyelids heavy—you ask, “So, did I pass the test?”

He sighs. “It wasn’t a test.”

“Great. Did I pass the ‘not test’?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Well, half my friends are screaming at me to lock it down, and the other half think you’re batshit and I should run far away.”

You smile at him.

“Sounds about right.”

Mary snuggles in closer. “It’s not them you have to care about anyway.” He kisses the back of your neck.

You groan and weakly kick at him with your feet. “Don’t bring my bile back up, Goore.”

“Fucking shut up, Suey. Whose necklace are you still wearing, anyway?”

And yeah, ok.

Next ➡️

[gingerwritess]

"I hope you know you've scarred your child for life." + loki and reader being the horny and pent up parents that they are

in which Elliot asks The Question™️

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey, dad?”

Loki carefully glances in the rear view mirror back at his son. “Yes?”

“I gotta question.”

You reach over with a yelp and grab the wheel, swerving out of the merging lane. “Loki! Watch the road!!”

He’s getting better at driving, for sure, but still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it. And having a cute little kid in the backseat trying to talk to you at the same time you’re learning to drive a car certainly doesn’t help.

“Ah…right, sorry.” He flashes you a sheepish grin, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and fixing his gaze straight ahead. “Go ahead, Elliot, I’m listening.”

The little boy stares out the window, deep in thought. “…so mommy’s preg-ant.”

“Right.” Both you and Loki nod, and for half a second Loki’s gaze flits from the road to your tiny baby bump, then he grins up at you with a gleam in his eye.

“Eyes on the road, doofus.” Your heart swells at the look on his face and you lightly push his face back towards the road with a laugh.

It’s quiet in the car for a moment, and Loki successfully exits off the freeway onto a narrow side street. You’re about to warn him of an approaching left turn lane to avoid when Elliot pipes up from the backseat:

“But how?”

Loki swerves into oncoming traffic.

“Other side of the road!” You shriek, and luckily Loki yanks the car back where it’s supposed to be before any approaching car hits you. His face is ghostly white and he shoots you a sideways look of terror, nodding his head back at Elliot.

“You’re answering this one.”

“I…we decided that we wanted another baby,” you explain nervously, glaring at Loki for throwing you under the bus. “And, uh…ta-da! I’m pregnant!”

Your oh-so-helpful husband lets out a snort of laughter as your son stares at you, confused beyond belief.

“Ta-da??” Loki repeats, shoulders shaking from silent laughter. “Ta-da, you’re pregnant. Yes, of course, that’s how it happens—”

You punch him in the thigh. “Watch it, sunshine, or no more ta-da-ing for you for a very long time.”

That shuts him up nicely.

“I don’t get it,” Elliot announces, kicking the back of Loki’s seat. “Do you just ask for a baby? And then poof? Mommy’s got a baby? I asked Morgan about the baby factory and she said that’s not real…”

You cringe and Loki just laughs—good luck finding answers for these lovely questions.

“Well…when two people love each other a lot—”

“They, uh, get the ability to choose to have a baby,” Loki cuts in before you can drop the bomb on the poor child. “If they love each other with their whole hearts, then they can say ‘let’s have a baby’ and you’re right.” He twists around in his seat to smile at the little boy. “Poof. They get the most amazing children ever.”

You stare at your husband in surprise—where did that come from?

“Oh, okay.” Elliot leans his head against the window with a content smile on his face. “I thought you had to kiss or somethin’. Or hold hands, ew…”

At that, Loki’s hand snakes over the middle compartment of the car to grasp onto your thigh, a smirk on his face when you quietly squeal at the shock of his cold hands. He finds your hand and laces his fingers through yours, glancing away from the road to flash you a quick wink.

Real sexy, you mouth with a roll of your eyes, hold my hand harder, daddy.

Okay, Loki snorting might just be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Elliot’s still blabbering on about his previous ideas of where babies come from. “Yeah, I thought it was when two parents kiss, they got a ticket to the baby factory. Morgan told me you hadta be naked to make a baby, but that’s really gross—”

“WHAT??”

“Yeah!” Elliot retches, scrunching up his nose and shaking his head. “I told ‘er, that’s super gross, that’s not how it happens, you don’t take your clothes off in front of anyone. Right, dad?”

Knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, Loki keeps his gaze strictly forwards, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from saying…anything.

Heheh…his turn to avoid the truth.

“Yeah, dad, isn’t that right?” You snicker, reaching over to poke him in the gut.

“Well…”

You freeze at the hesitation in his voice—he’s not actually going to tell him, right?

“I don’t want to lie—hm.” He keeps his eyes trained straight ahead to avoid your frantic head shaking, trying to decide if he should flat out lie to his son or just explain the basics to the poor child.

“Wait, dad…” Elliot’s eyes go wide. “Oh NO, is Morgan right??”

Your cringe actually hurts this time.

“Oh my GOSH, that’s disgusting, I’m never—oh ew, no no no, GROSS—”

“I never said she was right!” Loki quickly backtracks, cheeks red and knuckles white. “I never said that!”

“But you said you don’t wanna lie!! Oh gosh, ew, NO—”

“No, Elliot,” Loki laughs nervously, still trying to drive straight as you muffle your laughter with a hand, “I didn’t say she’s right, okay? Just listen to me.”

“Gross, gross, gross, gross, EW—”

“Elliot,” Loki sighs, “just listen to me, please.”

“NoooooOOOOOOOOOO—”

“Elliot!”

“WHAT??”

Loki takes a deep breath and you can’t help but cackle. “Okay, we’re listening, Loki, please explain yourself.”

“Look,” he starts, twisting around in his seat to look at his horrified son. “I don’t want to lie to you, I swore I would never, so—”

“SO,” you loudly cut in, shooting him a glare—we’re NOT explaining sex to him yet, he’s five years old—“dad means to say that there’s just some things you don’t need to know till you’re older.”

Loki’s chest deflates in relief and he shoots you a grateful grin. “Right. That’s what I was going to say.”

“I dunno,” Elliot groans, covering his face with his little hands. “That’s gus-tusting. I like the baby factory. Then mommy builds it in her tummy and I get my baby. Right?”

“…yeah.”

A pained grimace wracks Loki’s face as he drives and you can tell he still isn’t happy with that—it’s still technically a lie.

You rub his thigh with a comforting hand, directing your attention back to his driving. Elliot goes back to staring out the window, occasionally retching to himself and shuddering—it’s apparently still gross.

A blissful moment in silence passes and you pray they’ve dropped the subject; the baby factory excuse has worked well, okay? If we keep the nudity to a minimum and leave the public intimacy at kisses, your kid might just make it to second grade before the word sex enters his vocabulary.

“So mom’s never seen you naked, dad?”

The car lurches forward as Loki slams on the breaks, skidding to a halt at a stop sign.

“LOKI! What the hell??”

“Hey,” Elliot frowns, reaching over and tapping your arm, “I thought that was a bad word…”

“Not—not necessarily.” You rub your eyes with two fingers, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. Just slipped out.”

Loki shakes his head, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I can’t do this,” he whispers, wide eyes turning to you, “you drive, I’ll meet you back home—”

“No.” You grab his arm, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re not leaving me here, just answer the question and drive us home.”

“I don’t want to lie—”

“Elliot,” you sigh, forehead dropping to your hand. “Your father will explain everything to you when you’re older, okay? I promise.”

“Okay!”

You turn back to Loki and point for him to keep driving. “That was easy.”

Unable to argue, he just scowls and starts accelerating, the car somehow going sideways until you grab the wheel and straighten him out.

“How ‘bout some music?” You ask cheerfully, reaching back to squeeze Elliot’s knee, then Loki’s thigh again.

Loki doesn’t look amused.

Heaving a giant sigh, you turn on the radio and lean over to him. “Are you really going to be mad at me over this?”

“Maybe.”

“Would it help if I held your hand?”

“…maybe.”

You lace your fingers through his, making sure he keeps one hand tight on the wheel. “It’s not a terrible lie, y’know.”

“It’s still a lie,” he huffs, turning a corner a little more violently than necessary.

“But it’s a lie to protect someone. He doesn’t need to know that, he’s five freaking years old. You can’t honestly tell me he needs to know about sex right now, can you? Before he’s even out of kindergarten?”

“I suppose not…”

The lines on the road seemed like they’d be easy enough to explain, but Loki’s grown not too fond of them—you’re nearly certain that he just doesn’t like the idea of being told what to do by something as menial as a painted line on the ground.

You reach over to yank the wheel again, straightening the car back into one lane, and Loki lets out a clearly distraught breath.

“Now I’m distracted,” he grumbles, trying to pull his hand out of yours to no avail—you hold him tight. “And I’m not mad, love, I could never be mad at you, I just…I just don’t like the idea of lying to my son.”

“I love that you’re this concerned about this.” You smile over at him and give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “But can you just trust me on this one? I really don’t think we should explain all that to him when he’s this young. He’s a pure little guy, let’s just…wait a little longer.”

“You think that’s best?” Loki glances in the rearview mirror again—his son, his little prince, catches his eye and waves to him, a bright grin breaking out over his chubby cheeks.

“I really do, but I want us to decide that together.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitches into a little grin at his kid in the mirror.

He should honestly be watching the road, but your heart twists and you just can’t bring yourself to reprimand him.

Elliot sticks out his tongue and pulls a strange face, positively beaming when Loki laughs.

“Gotcha,” the little boy giggles, tugging at the straps of his carseat. “One point for me!”

“The moment you’re out of this car, I’ll be tickling you until you can’t breathe.” Loki quirks an eyebrow in the mirror. “I’ll be winning this little laughing game, just you wait.”

Elliot bursts into another fit of giggles and your heart melts at the soft smile on Loki’s face—god, this child.

“I trust you,” Loki murmurs, squeezing your hand and bringing it to his lips. “Entirely.”

“Love you,” you grin over at him. “Love you so goddamn much.”

Don’t tell Loki, but he just reached eight minutes of actually following the laws of the road.

“Hey.” Elliot leans forward to break the sweet silence, eyes wide and pointing at you and Loki’s intertwined hands. “Are y’making another baby right now? I thought mommy already had one—”

“Forget it. He’s going to kill me,” Loki groans, “I swear by Odin’s beard, my death will be at the hands of my five-year-old.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

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[leahdarkspear]

Paranormal Picnic

As promised, a short story detailing Ja’mez’s appearance from beyond the grave!

It felt odd, putting on her old commander’s armor, her Darkspear tabard. She looked at herself in the mirror - Leah, daughter of Zin’Taj and Ayi’da, huntress of the Darkspear Tribe, Spear of Vol’jin, Commander of the Horde - all of those titles seemed miles away from her and the life she had lived in Zuldazar over the past year. 

Her uniform fit a little less snugly than it had in the past. Even though she had been trying to do better about taking care of herself and having regular meals than she was after Ja’mez’s death, she still found she didn’t have much of an appetite and occasionally still forgot to eat. Leah smoothed out her Darkspear tabard as she inspected herself. She really should get a new one made, this one had faded a bit over the years. Still, it would do for now.

The huntress moved from her bedroom down the long, winding staircase of her treehouse. In Leah’s mind, the living house seemed less vibrant than it had when Ja’mez was there, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever seem quite as alive again.

Down in the kitchen, Leah prepared a picnic basket with a few slices of raptor haunch, some fruit, a loaf of bread, and some cheese. After packing the plates and utensils, she set out toward the eastern outskirts of Dazar’alor, to the burial shrine where Ja’mez’s remains lay.

As she had many times before, she sat before the shrine. “Hey, love,” she said, speaking to a mate who could no longer hear her. “I, uh, was just comin’ by ta tell ya dat I might not be around for a while. De scourge be back… somehow.” 

Leah shook her head. She had thought, like many had, that when Arthas was defeated, the threat had been eliminated, and yet here the Scourge was again, attacking outposts like the Crossroads and Razor Hill. And like many others, she was growing weary of the constant calamities that plagued Azeroth. The huntress sat in quiet contemplation of the situation before slowly beginning to put out two place settings from the picnic basket. “It’s just one thing aftah anothah,” Leah sighed.

“What be in de basket?”

“What de?!” Leah’s ear twitched in the direction of the sound. Immediately, she snapped her head around to look. Though it had only been a whisper, it was a voice she could never mistake. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the nearby area. Finding nothing, she shook her head as if to shake away the confusion, then resumed setting out her picnic. “Anyway, I'm not sure how long I'll be away. I'm leavin' de critters at de Kraal just in case…”

From out of nowhere, something whirled around Leah. She looked up to find Sun, the tiny celestial cloud serpent, her mate’s boon companion, who hadn’t been seen since Ja’mez’s death. Before she could address the little serpent, she noticed the hazy outline of her beloved druid reaching out to pet his friend. The ghostly silhouette looked her way and waved.

Leah squinted hard. The look on her face wasn’t one of fright or shock; instead she looked rather perturbed. This was it. She had finally cracked. She heaved a weary sigh. “Ya know...I kinda always assumed my grief would eventually drive me crazy, but I figured it would take longah…”

“I be ‘ere, Leah.” Great. Now her hallucination was trying to speak to her. She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Oh really?” Her voice dripped with skepticism. “Dis ain’t my imagination?”

Ja’mez broke into a wide grin. “Nope!” he chuckled.

Leah’s face twisted into a scowl. “YOU LEFT ME!!” She screamed as she grabbed the plate in front of her and stood to chuck it at Ja’mez’s head. Then she turned away and folded her arms over her chest to pout.

Ja’mez didn’t try to dodge or even flinch as the plate flew through his body and crashed on the urns behind him. He seemed perfectly accepting of Leah’s anger. The druid tried to smile as he stepped toward her. “I thought ya’d be happy to see meh.”

Leah turned back to face her ghostly mate. The pain on her face was evident. “Well, I'd have preferred seein' ya alive, I gotta be honest. Ya broke my heart, love.” She flopped back down on the ground next to the picnic basket and sighed. “Sorry I threw stuff at ya.”

“It’s okay,” Ja’mez smiled. “I deserve it, I think. Though,” he said as he looked around, “I’m not sure exactly how ta handle dis.” 

Leah cast him a sympathetic glance and gently shook her head. "I'm not mad at ya. Not really. It's just been hard. I miss ya so much. You been okay?"

The question seemed to catch Ja’mez off guard. He looked down and tapped his chin as he gave it thought. “I suppose I'm as good as a dead guy can be.  It's just too good ta see ya, love."

Sun seemed determined not to be left out of this reunion. He whirled around the couple and came to a stop at Ja’mez’s side. The druid reached out to pet him again. Whether Sun could feel it or not, he seemed appreciative of the gesture, giving a few loop-de-loops in the air.

“Haven’t seen him in a while,” Leah gestured to the serpent, “he didn’t stick around aftah. ‘Course, he was always your baby, not mine.” 

Leah wanted badly to reach out for Ja’mez, to have him hold her. However, if the plate was any indication, it would be a futile effort. Also, his spirit was cold, and Leah could feel the chill radiating off him like an early morning fog in autumn. It would hardly be the warm embrace that she had yearned for the many nights since his death. She knew this, and so she refrained. 

Ja’mez also sat silent. Just like in life, it was imperceptible what might be going through his mind. Somehow Leah took comfort in the familiarity. And yet, there was something that gnawed at her.

“I got somethin' dat's botherin me. It's kinda a long story, but I suppose you got time." Leah cracked a smile at her own joke.

Ja’mez was glad to see his mate smile finally. He had never been one to handle sadness well. “Apparently I do. I don't even know what's goin' on fully though yet.”

Leah arched her eyebrow at Ja’mez. She wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that. “Ah well, maybe ya can answer me dis, even so.”

Ja’mez shrugged. He would certainly give it his best. “Ya.”

“So a while back, before... ya know... I started havin' dese dreams. Like, I knew ya were in trouble, or ya were gonna be. What I didn't know at de time was N'zoth had gotten to me, I just knew I needed ta find you. Den aftah ya died, it got so much worse. He almost got me. My friends, dey stopped my heart ta get de corruption outta me. I was only out for maybe a couple minutes, but when it happened, I saw dis place.”

“What did ya see?” Ja’mez leaned forward with interest.

Leah pursed her lips. She didn’t like recalling her vision, but she had to know what it was, if Ja’mez could answer. “It was dark, and I knew it was somewhere I didn't wanna be. But I couldn't get away, it was pullin' me down. And I could feel so much agony. Like, dere be people down dere and dey all be sufferin'. What is dat? Dat's not where you be, is it?”

“Nah.” Ja’mez shook his head. “I wouldn’t be ‘ere if dat be de case.”

Leah felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Ever since she’d had the vision, she’d been worried for Ja’mez. “Do ya know what it be, though?”

Again, Ja’mez shook his head. “Nah. But I know it’s definitely a place ya don’t wanna be.”

Now it was Leah’s turn to lean forward. “You’ve seen it?”

“For a bit I did,” Ja’mez nodded.

“But it tried ta pull me so strong. How’d ya escape?”

“Bwonsamdi. He be out dere doin’ somethin.”

Leah clutched her chest and exhaled with relief. “Oh, praise dat creepy ol’ loa! I knew he got de offerin’ I made for ya.” A smile spread across the huntress’s face. There would definitely be more offerings to be made in thanks. “So you be on de Othah Side den. Dat’s good, I be glad. Well, actually, I’m not. I prefer ya be here… Wait, so can I ask ya somethin’ else?”

“Of course, love.”

This question had burned at Leah since even before she learned of Ja’mez’s death. “Why didn’t ya take me with you? When ya went ta fight N’zoth? I mean, we made a good team, didn’t we? Maybe… maybe things woulda turned out different.”

“Ny'alotha is like de Nightmare,” Ja’mez explained. “I wouldn’t dare ask anybody I care about ta go dere.”

Leah glowered. “So what, ya think I be some frail human wife, sittin’ around frettin’ while my mon goes off ta fight de big bad?” She sucked her teeth. “Ya know dat ain’t me.” 

“Would ya let me go if we switched?”

The huntress had to stop herself from blurting out a yes. Would she really let Ja’mez go if she had the chance to keep him home, to keep him safe? However, after giving the question consideration, she found her opinion unchanged. “Yes.” Her tone was calm and resolute. “Because ya be de one I want ta have my back when things get rough. I mean, I kinda figured if we didn't grow old togethah, we'd die side by side on top de corpses of our enemies.”

Firm in his resolve, Ja’mez refused to relent. “It wasn’t pretty in dere, Leah. People lost their minds, turned on each other, even. I wasn’t gonna let somethin make me hurt ya.”

Leah cast her mon a reassuring glance. “You be strongah dan dat.” The look on Ja’mez’s face said that he wasn’t so sure. Leah sighed. “Eithah way, I would have rathah died with ya dan have ta live without ya. You were my everything, love. But I keep on goin’ because what de hell else am I s’posed ta do?”

Ja’mez didn’t speak. What he was thinking, Leah couldn’t say. Ultimately, she supposed, none of it mattered. None of the questions, none of the regret could change what happened.

A change of subject was in order. “So how come I just be seein’ ya now? Loas know I been comin’ here for months.”

Ja’mez shrugged. “I really got no idea. But it was much easier to show, now dat the veil be broken.”

“De veil be broken?” Leah parroted. “Like, between here an’ de Othah Side?

Ja’mez nodded. “Somethin be terribly wrong.  Bwonsamdi be doin all he can to save souls from da darkness.”

“Ah, shit…” The realization hit Leah. “I wondah if dis got anything ta do with de Scourge comin’ back…” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ja’mez replied. “But somethin’ gotta be done. De question is, what?”

Leah nodded in agreement. “Okay, well, I be goin’ ta Icecrown ta help handle dat situation, so maybe we can figure somethin’ out.”

“We gonna have to, ‘cause none a dis be right.”

The huntress held up a finger as a sudden thought occurred to her. She then motioned to Ja’mez’s remains. “So, dis is gonna sound dumb. Should I take you with me?”

Ja’mez looked at his body. “Dat… is a good question.”

“Well, I mean, can ya come back anywhere, or did ya only come back here because dis where ya body be?” Leah clarified.

“I ain't been dead long, so I don' know all da rules yet,” the druid chuckled.

Leah was already putting way too much thought into this. “I s’pose I can fold ya up real tight, stuff ya in my bag somewhere…dis gonna be so weird,” she muttered to herself.

“I would leave dem here,” Ja’mez stated. “Dey safe, yeah?”

“Of course.” Leah pointed to the large voodoo constructs patrolling just yards away.

The druid looked at his huntress. The problem was probably much bigger than either of them knew, he realized. “Ya know, whatever work needs done, it probably be on de Othah Side.”

He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t deter Leah. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Leah let her eyes linger over Ja’mez for a moment. “I’m guessin’ ya can’t stay?”

“I don’...” Ja’mez wasn’t given the chance to finish. His spectre flickered out briefly. He looked down at himself.

Sensing this was her last chance, Leah called out to him. “Hey.” Ja’mez looked at her. “I love you.”

His spirit was already fainter, but Leah could see him smile. “Love you too, Lee.”

[ask-gilbert-and-ludwig]

Ludwig wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him downstairs, but he knew it would be a surprise of some sort. Seeing as how today was his birthday, and his brother and father always did something for his birthday.

What he really wanted was to spend his birthday with his friends, but seeing as how he didn’t have any, he couldn’t really do that.

Not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his family, no of course not! Even if Gilbert was annoying more often than not and liked to pin him to the floor when they were fighting. Even if his dad didn’t have a set schedule for work and sometimes missed important stuff. He still loved them, but it wasn’t the same.

He wanted to be like the kids at school who held big parties and invited all their friends. Then talked about it the next day in class. Well maybe not the last part since he didn’t like talking to most people and most people didn’t like talking to him. But still.

He shook his head and looked at the clock.

I’d better get downstairs, he thought. Despite it being his birthday, he still had to go to school.

He didn’t hear anything as he left his room, but he did see streamers wrapped around the banister leading down the stairs. Noticing one pink amongst the blues and greens he sighed. Gilbert.

Once he’d turned the corner into the living room, he saw the set up surrounding the couch and chairs. A few presents of various sizes, a stack of birthday hats on the table, a banner saying ‘Happy Birthday’ hanging up on the wall, and a few letters.

Aster then trotted up to him, wearing one of the hats and rubbed up against him.

He giggled and took it off her. “I’m guessing that’s what you wanted?”

A loud noise then sounded coming from the kitchen. He looked over and saw Gilbert at the island with a noise maker in his mouth.

“Why did you get him those?” he asked his dad. A hint of desperation in his voice.

“He got them when I wasn’t with him,” he replied.

Gilbert blew into the noise maker again, much more loudly than previously, before proclaiming, “I’m sorry I didn’t want your birthday to be boring!”

“At least I wouldn’t have had a headache.”

“Whatever old man,” Gilbert sneered. “So how does it feel to be 7? Feel older?”

“Not really,” Ludwig replied as he made his way over to the island, “nothing’s changed from yesterday to today.”

“Except you’re 7 instead of 6 now! That’s a whole year!”

“Well I guess I’m taller than I was a year ago.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes. “You’re taller than you were a month ago. You’re like a weed.”

“I don’t know, your hair looks more like dandelion fluff than mine.”

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at him. Ludwig did so too a moment after.

“Alright, enough,” their father said. Both stopped but continued to side eye the other. “I made pancakes for breakfast, and I added chocolate chips too.”

Ludwig smiled. His dad was hardly ever home for long enough in the morning to make them pancakes made from scratch, and he only put in chocolate chips if he was feeling generous, or it was a special occasion.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said.

“Ya thanks Dad,” Gilbert mumbled absentmindedly as he checked his phone.

Dad nodded. Setting two large pancakes in front of Ludwig before turning back to the stove. Gilbert quickly messed up his hair before their dad could see.

“Hey!”

Gilbert pretended to be absorbed in his phone. “What? I didn’t do anything.” But the smirk on his lips said otherwise.

“Don’t harass him too much today, okay Gilbert?”

“Not a problem, gonna be at school for most of it anyways.”

Their father sighed.

After finishing their pancakes both Gilbert and Ludwig got ready for school, despite being offered a ride, Gilbert still chose to drive himself to school. Why, Ludwig didn’t know, but at least now he didn’t have to listen to him complain about how much homework he had.

“So, what is it that you want to do today?” Dad asked.

Ludwig thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe take a walk in the big park with the swings instead of the small one near home?”

Dad nodded. “Nothing else?”

“If I get new toys, I’ll want to play with them I guess.”

“Alright, but if you think of anything while you’re at school just let us know.”

“I will.” Ludwig then felt the car come to a stop.

“Have a good day at school Kleiner.”

Ludwig grabbed his backpack and left the car. “Bye!” he said, waving as he walked towards the school.

****

Finally, it was the end of the day and he could just go home. While he loved learning, sometimes school just felt like a punishment and not an actual place to learn. Especially when he kept getting reminded that no one in his class cared that it was his birthday.

As he walked to the front of the school where his bus would be, he saw Gilbert and his friends standing there waiting for him.

“How’d you get here on time to pick me up? School finishes at the same time for you as it does for me,” Ludwig pointed out, wondering why on earth he was there.

“We weren’t doing anything important so when I told the teacher what I was gonna do she just let me go early,” Gilbert explained.

“I just said I had an appointment,” Francis said.

“So, did I,” Antonio added.

“But why did you bring them if we’re just going back home?” While Francis and Antonio did sometimes come over to give him presents, they usually didn’t stay for long, not wanting to make the day about Gilbert instead.

“Because we’re not going home right away, and I need them to distract you.”

“Distract me?”

Francis nudged him. “And it was our idea.”

“Oh, ya that too.”

Ludwig tilted his head. “Where-”

“Come on!” Gilbert urged, pushing him towards his beat-up old car. Getting into the backseat squished in-between Francis and Antonio he couldn’t help but question why Gilbert couldn’t have just asked Dad for him to buy him a better one instead of forcing himself into buying an old used one.

As Gilbert checked his review mirror he said, “You idiots better be clipped in, and no I don’t mean you Ludwig, you’re the only one in this car that has more than one brain cell.”

“Of course, we are!”

“I am!”

Ludwig couldn’t make out his brother’s facial expression as he replied, “Alright good, then we’re off.”

It was slow getting out of the parking lot, while they had been talking the buses had started to pull out, along with every other parent who was picking up their kid.

“So where are we going?” Ludwig asked. Knowing Gilbert, he probably wouldn’t get the answer he wanted.

“Half the fun is the surprise!”

Of course not.

“Hey, you two are supposed to be entertaining him,” Gilbert chastised.

Antonio turned to Ludwig then. “So, how was your day?”

“Uh, it was okay, we had a quiz in math though” Ludwig recalled.

“Oh, that sucks! A quiz on your birthday?”

Ludwig shrugged. He kind of liked math. “It wasn’t too bad.”

“Did your teacher give you a gift or did anyone give you cards?” Francis questioned.

“No one gave me any cards,” most of them don’t like me enough to even remember my birthday, “and ya my teacher gave me a cupcake with gummy worms, but she does that for everyone’s birthday.”

“Still it must be nice,” Francis said, “I never got anything for my birthday at school.”

“Quit complaining,” Gilbert called from the front, “at least you get your birthday off every year. I once had a project due on mine!”

Ludwig remembered that. He had wanted to read with him before he went to sleep and give Gilbert his card early, but he had been too busy finishing the project. Ludwig was glad when he came home finally done with the stupid thing.

“Yes, but everyone is always on holiday on my birthday, so I can never be with friends. So, I am all alone.”

At least you have friends.

“Francis, we were both here this year for your birthday,” Antonio pointed out.

“Ya French fry, do you not remember the thousands of selfies we took on your phone and posted to Snapchat?”

Francis huffed. “I hate when you call me that.”

Gilbert breathed a laugh. “That’s exactly why I call you it.”

“Fine Snow White.”

“Snow White has black hair, I clearly don’t.”

“Yes, but your skin is as white as snow, and you are dumb enough to eat a poisoned apple offered by a stranger.”

“Guys,” Antonio sighed, “do you always have to have this same conversation every time?”

Ludwig tried to look past him out the window but got pushed back into his seat by Antonio before he could guess where they were.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“If he would stop calling me French fry, which aren’t French by the way, then we would never have this conversation.”

“So, it’s okay for Gil and you to call me Puppy but not okay for him to call you French fry?”

Gilbert snorted.

“French fry is historically inaccurate; Puppy is extremely fitting.”

Ludwig looked at Francis in confusion. “Why do you call him that?”

“Oh, he gets excited really easily, he follows Lovino around everywhere he can, and is loyal to a fault.”

“Not to mention he licks people,” Gilbert added.

“Only when they’re being annoying,” Antonio defended.

Ludwig felt the car park. “Oh, thank God we’re here,” he whispered.

They filed out of the car, Ludwig following close behind. Just as he was about to look around hands placed themselves over his eyes.

“What are you doing? I can’t see!” he complained.

“We gotta get you there first!” he heard Gilbert say right above him. It must have been him who was covering his eyes.

Ludwig sighed. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to get out of Gilbert’s grip anyways. “Fine.”

They started moving, slowly, as to avoid cars in the parking lot he assumed, towards the surprise. We probably look strange, he thought. Three teenagers leading a blindfolded child to wherever it was they were taking him. Hopefully nobody was staring at him.

When they finally stopped Gilbert said, “Guys do a drum-roll!”

Ludwig then heard what was probably Francis and Antonio attempting to mimic a drum-roll by slapping their thighs.

“I don’t need a drum-roll.”

“Yes, you do!” Gilbert said before taking his hands off of his face. “Ta-da!”

Ludwig let his eyes adjust to see that they were in a bookstore.

“Pick any three books you want,” Gilbert declared, spreading his arms wide.

“Shouldn’t you check them over to make sure they aren’t filled with,” Francis cleared his throat, “stuff.”

Stuff? What stuff? Books that have swearing?

“I doubt he’ll go anywhere near those sections, but...” Gilbert turned back to him. “I have to look them over first though okay?”

“Alright.” Ludwig didn’t understand why he needed to. He didn’t think there’d be any swearing or whatever in the history or fantasy books he wanted.

“Okay so run free but try and not take too long cause we need to get back in less than an hour, or Dad will think I kidnapped you.”

Ludwig breathed a laugh before running off to where he knew the history section was. He skimmed through the books until he found one on mythologies. While he knew the basics of some mythologies, he wasn’t very knowledgeable in them, and ever since he had met that weird frog, he had been more curious about them.

He then made his way towards the children’s section, making sure to hold his new book close to his chest, not wishing to drop it. He wanted to find a collection of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales. He had already read some of the more famous ones such as; The Little Mermaid and Thumbelina, but he had yet to read the lesser known ones that he had just recently heard about; The Nightingale and The Wild Swans.

Ludwig made his way down the row, checking the books for the authors names, until he came across Andersen’s. There were two different collections.

He held the two in his hands and thought about which he should choose. While the one had more stories and had a much prettier cover, the other was cheaper, and although Gilbert had a job of his own now, Ludwig didn’t want to force him to spend more than he had too.

But I really want it, he thought.

Deciding that he would just ask Gilbert if it was okay to get the more expensive one, he put the cheaper of the two back.

As he was about to speed off to another section, he heard a book fall off the shelf. Not wanting anyone to step on it, he went and picked it up.

Turning it over to look at the cover he saw that it was one he recognized. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

Someone must have gotten lazy and left it here instead of putting it back in the French section where it belongs, he thought.

Looking at the cover he couldn’t help thinking about when he had read it in class. Although he had had a bit of trouble following along, he had gotten the gist of the story, and he had surprisingly liked it.

Instead of putting it back, he put it with his other two books and went to go find his brother. He found them standing a bit off from the line to the cash register, talking animatedly about something.

“You done?” Gilbert asked as he took the books from him.

“Yes.”

Looking them over Gilbert pulled out The Little Prince. “You sure you want the French version? I think they might have it in English.”

Ludwig shook his head. “No, I want it.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay that I get this collection book of Fairy Tales or should I get the one that’s cheaper? I wanted this one because it has more stories, but I’ll go back if you want.”

“Nah it’s fine,” Gilbert reassured, “Antonio and Francis are chipping in anyways. It’s their gift to you.”

“Well thank you.”

Francis and Antonio smiled.

“No problem, I love giving people gifts!” Antonio replied.

“It’s your birthday! Of course, we’d get you something mon petit!” Francis then proceeded to run their hands through Ludwig’s hair.

Ludwig batted his hand away.

“Let’s get in line before it gets too long,” Gilbert said.

****

Gilbert had first dropped off Francis and Antonio at their homes before driving them back to their house. Now they were parked in their driveway and Gilbert was trying to convince Ludwig to set his new book down.

“You can read it later, now we’re gonna have cake and presents!”

Ludwig looked up from his book on mythologies and put his new bookmark in it.

“Good, now I don’t have to take it from you and put it on a high shelf.”

Ludwig glared at him and held the book closer.

Gilbert held the door open for him as they went inside. “We’re home!” Gilbert yelled down the hall.

They then walked into the living room to see the same spread of decorations, with just a few more presents added to the table.

“How was school?” their dad asked as he continued to prep dinner.

“It was okay,” Ludwig replied.

Gilbert set his bag down next to the bookcase. “Oh! You guys need to hear this! Today Arthur actually wore colour. It was horrifying.”

Ludwig had heard of Gilbert speak of Arthur and how he only wore black or wore mostly black with a bit of colour. He had called him ‘emo’. Ludwig still had no idea what that meant.

“Really? What was he wearing?” Ludwig questioned.

“He wore blue jeans with rips in them and a green shirt. It was so surreal! I had to ask Antonio if I was having a stroke.”

“Did you find out why?” Dad asked.

“Well Francis went up and complimented him, then said that maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless after all. Then Arthur got defensive and said it was because most of his clothes were dirty. So, this is probably just a onetime thing.”

“He could have been lying because he was embarrassed,” Ludwig suggested.

“Could be.”

Gilbert had told Ludwig all about his friends’ crushes. How Francis really liked Arthur and Arthur probably really liked him back because of how he acted towards him, but they were too stubborn to tell each other. Didn’t want to be the first to admit it. Ludwig had said that the logic of teenagers was dumb. Gilbert hadn’t agreed.

“Dinner will be ready soon if you want to come sit,” Dad interrupted.

Both boys went and sat at the island.

“So, what’re we having?” Gilbert said watching their father.

“Sauerbraten, potatoes, red cabbage, and knödel.”

“Hell yeah!”

A glare was sent his way.

“Sorry,” Gilbert mumbled in a tone that suggested he wasn’t.

Dad didn’t bother berating Gilbert for swearing further than the glare. While there was a no swearing rule Gilbert didn’t take it seriously. He was only easy to control if he wanted to be.

“We don’t have hats on!” Gilbert suddenly exclaimed as he jumped out of his seat. He came back a few seconds later and forced a birthday hat on both Dad and Ludwig.

Ludwig reached to take it off, but Gilbert stopped him.

“I’ll force you to wear two if you take this one off. It’s not that big a deal, just until you’re done unwrapping your presents.”

“Fine.”

****

After dinner Dad put the cake, a delicious looking one with blue icing with star shaped sprinkles, in front of Ludwig and lit the candles.

As always Ludwig felt awkward as his family sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. He really didn’t like being the center of attention and this was the worst kind.

“Make a wish!” Gilbert said once they had finished singing.

I wish I had just one friend.

He blew out the candles.

“What did you wish for?” their dad asked.

“You can’t ask!” Gilbert exclaimed. “It won’t come true if he tells you.”

“Alright. Well I hope it comes true.”

I hope so too.

“Of course, it will! Ludwig’s great! He deserves it to come true.” Gilbert leaned down and hugged him.

Ludwig struggled to get him away. “Let go.”

Instead Gilbert picked him up and carried him into the living room.

“Put me down! What about my cake?”

“I’ll get you a piece so we can eat it while you’re unwrapping presents.”

“Why can’t I just eat the cake then do presents?” he implored.

His brother set him down on the couch. “Cause I’m getting impatient. I want to see your reaction to my gift.” He jogged back over to the kitchen and grabbed two slices of cake. Then came back, their dad following much more slowly behind him, and gave Ludwig the bigger of the two slices.

Good.

First Gilbert gave him his card. Strangely it wasn’t a joke card, for once it was sentimental. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t even given you your gifts yet. You can thank me after.” Once he was done looking over the card Gilbert then grabbed a present wrapped in black wrapping paper with white paw prints printed all over it. “This ones from me!”

“I guessed.” He took the present from him and started to unwrap it carefully, not wanting to make a huge mess. Not unsurprised to see that it was clothing. Two shirts to be exact.

Gilbert took one of them and held it up against his chest to show that it said ‘big brother’ on it. Every year his brother got Ludwig and himself a new matching set of shirts with something along the lines of ‘big brother’ and ‘little brother’ written on them. It had become a sort of tradition. This year the words were in big white letters written in cursive over a blue shirt. A number two on the back of his.

“When will you stop buying these for us?” They didn’t even wear them all that often. They always wore them the day after his birthday, then maybe if Gilbert remembered they would wear them again a few more times. Ludwig usually just shoved his in a box in his closet.

“When you finally stop growing. Then they’ll be pink and have crowns on them.”

“If you do that, I’m donating them.”

Gilbert smirked.

“What’s the real present you wanted to give me?” Ludwig asked, trying to change the subject.

Gilbert reached into the pile again and this time handed Ludwig a wrapped-up box with a bow.

Ludwig untied the bow, then once the paper was off, he opened the box and pulled out a frame. Looking at it he saw that it was a picture of him and Gilbert on the swings in the park wearing their raincoats, laughing at some dumb joke Gilbert had made.

He smiled fondly, if he remembered the day correctly this had been a few months ago back in April when all three of them had gone to the park. Gilbert had challenged Ludwig to see who could swing the highest. Gilbert had obviously won, what with his legs being much longer. After wearing themselves out Gilbert had tried talking but his voice had cracked. What with him being winded and the added change to his voice it sounded silly. Instead of getting bashful as most would Gilbert had pretended to be a dying bird.

Ludwig leaned over and gave Gilbert a hug. “I really like it.”

“Ya, Antonio helped me carve the frame and Francis helped me pick out colours for it. But the idea was all mine!”

Ludwig looked at the picture again and payed more attention to the frame. It had a little rain cloud carved on one side. The blue of the frame matching Ludwig’s coat and the cloud matching the clouds in the picture.

“It’s really good.”

“Thanks, but you know me, I’m shit at art. Most of it was Antonio.”

“Music is art so you’re not all bad at it.”

Gilbert shrugged and handed him another present. “This is my last one then Dad’ll give you his.”

Ludwig unwrapped it to find a husky webkinz.

“Whatcha gonna name him?” Gilbert asked making room on the couch so Dad could sit with them.

“Snowy.”

“Coolio.”

His dad sat next to him and handed him a gift along with a card. This one was also in a box, but it was bigger than the one Gilbert had given him. Ludwig opened the envelop and read the card before he unwrapped the gift, discovering that it was a toy airplane that he had to build.

“It comes with a few paints so you can choose what colour it’s going to be.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t wait to make and play with it. Maybe he would try and paint it like one of the planes from his history books.

Dad then handed him another present. “This is the last one.”

“Okay.” He opened it and saw a light brown bear wearing a blue shirt that said, ‘Happy Birthday’, blue jeans, and green and grey shoes.

“Thank you, I really liked all of them.”

Gilbert messed up his hair again. “Good!”

Ignoring his brother, he opened the letters on the table. All from his family in Germany, except for one from Roderich and his parents who couldn’t come today. All signed from family he had never met or was introduced to once when he was too little to remember. The entire process felt more like a formality then a genuine gift. At least Gilbert knew who all these people were.

After telling him happy birthday once more his dad went upstairs to work on paperwork and Gilbert moved to the small love-seat and started playing some game on his phone.

As he sat there on the couch, he started to feel very tired all of a sudden. Taking off his birthday hat he laid down and wondered if and when his wish would come true.

[shipper-trash-bag]

On AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/17492606

—————-

Sam had trouble sleeping, no secret there. But tonight was different.

Tonight, Sam felt something he was all too familiar with, a friend he hated more than corduroy pants, more than boiled zucchini. Loneliness.

If adults had imaginary friends to help them with their loneliness, he was sure Sulley would be back right then, cotton candy tacos at his disposal. He didn’t, however, and instead he tossed his head to the side once more, staring at the green numbers of his alarm clock, willing his eyes shut. The ringing of his phone distracted him from his routine, however, swiping it off the nightstand and aggressively accepting the incoming call. “‘Lo?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Sam lifted his head off the pillow carefully, sure that he had to be dreaming. There was no way that he could hear that voice on the other line. “Sam? You there?”

He scrambled with the phone, sitting up straight in bed, duvet falling down around him. “G- Gabe? No, you- you can’t. You- this isn’t funny.”

The voice on the other line snorted. “You’re telling me. I had to walk an hour and a half to get to this payphone only to realize that I didn’t know your number.”

Sam felt his eyes stinging, a golf ball sized lump in his throat making it impossible to breathe, but he still tried. “Then how-“

“Well,” A soft popping noise was heard on the other side, Gabriel most likely popping bubble gum obnoxiously loud. “As luck would have it, I ran into a spunky young blonde hunter and I mentioned I was trying to get back to you and she offered to let me use her cell.”

“Claire.” Sam pulled the phone from his face, looking to see that it was indeed Claire’s number on the bright screen. He pulled the phone back to his ear, leaning over to turn his lamp on. “Where are you?”

“Omaha. She was hunting a werewolf. I gotta say, I’m a better hunter than I thought I’d be.”

“You were decent at best!” Sam chuckled as he heard Claire’s voice boom from the background.

Gabriel clicked his tongue in annoyance, Sam could almost picture him crossing his arms in front of his chest in difiance. “Can you.. could you come get me? I don’t have a car and I don’t feel safe taking a bus.”

Sam was already yanking pants on, rifling through his closet for something warmer than his sleep shirt. He wanted to ask Gabe why he couldn’t fly, why his wings weren’t working. Wanted to ask why he called Sam and not Castiel, but he didn’t. He knew Gabriel wouldn’t call unless he had no other choice. So he only asked for an exact address and told them to stay put. He kept Gabriel on the line, all the way until he got to the car.

Everyone else was still asleep in the bunker, so he wrote a note to Dean and slipped it under his door, stopping by his mom’s door before doubling back to write one for her too.

The drive to Omaha was a fucking harsh one, anxiety up to his chin, each traffic light and stop sign a hindrance to his final goal. But he made it. He finally made it to the motel with the broken sign, spotting Claire’s car immediately, practically running out of his mom’s blue coop to the door as soon as the engine cut off.

“Alright, alright!” Claire’s voice scratches on the other side of the door, flinging it open and getting an armful of tall, disheveled Winchester. “Woah! Woah, Sam. Chill. Geez. It’s like you’ve never seen me before. Yeesh.”

He carefully pulled away, the first few song birds coming out to chirp. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“ his breath caught in his throat. There, wearing the exact same clothes he wore the day he died was Gabriel. His shirt was tattered below the jacket, hair a bit greasy, but alive. He was alive. “Gabe.” It was a breath, not a whole sentence, but it hit him just the same.

Gabriel turned away from the television playing on low, a small bittersweet smile on his lips as he answered with his own tiny, “Sam.”

Claire grumbled something as she swiped her keys, stepping out of the motel room to get a cup of something hot. Sam closed the door carefully behind him as he moved in, noting that there was a thick, white gauze bandage wrapped around his hand. “Gabe.. what happened?”

Gabriel lifted himself off the couch, striding over so Sam could see. He extended his hand to the hunter so e could check the wounds himself. “Claire. She wanted to check me out so she used a bunch of stuff. The kid had a bit too much of a heavy hand with the silver blade, but I’m not bleeding anymore, so that’s nice.” He smiled, the sentiment not reaching his eyes as Sam held his hand carefully in both of his own. “Sorry it took so long.”

Sam’s eyes snapped up, hand forgotten as he tried to piece together what Gabriel was saying. “What?”

“Coming back. I’m sorry it took so long. Your prayers. They woke me, but when I finally got out of the empty, it kicked me back into my body in the other world from before so I had to find the spell and all the shit for it to come back. Took ages to find a prophet to read it for me. Also, the tree of life? More like dead twigs and berries. I used up a lot of my grace just trying to bring the little thing back to life. But,” he turned and extended his arms in a flourish, “ta da! I’m back, baby!”

Normally, Sam would have rolled his eyes or stared in annoyance at the archangel’s stupid displays of grandeur and drama, but today was not a normal day. Instead, he gathered the angel up into a warm hug, laying his face in Gabriel’s hair, breathing in the sweat, the dirt and the sweet ozone smell of the other man. “I missed you.”

It was so quiet, Gabriel was sure Sam wasn’t intended him to hear it. But hear it he did, and in a rare form of insanity - Gabriel would lie to Castiel about it later instead of just being honest - he hugged him back. “Missed you too. Sorry it took so long, I-“

And then they were kissing. Sam Winchester, the boy king of hell, the master of trials, the kink in Satan’s plan for world domination, was kissing an Archangel of the Lord. It was a simple, firm and chaste kiss. The kind of kiss that screamed ‘please be real’ and ‘don’t leave me’ all wrapped up in ‘I missed you’.

When they separated, it only lasted a second, a single flutter of eyelashes in a long, drawn out blink, Gabriel yanking him back down, mouth firm and yielding as he started to walk then backwards to the couch.

“Gabe-“

“Shh,” he whispered between kisses. “Just want to kiss you sitting down. My neck hurts from this angle.”

And it that wasn’t the funniest thing Sam heard all week. But he didn’t laugh. He couldn’t. He got a win. Not just any win, Gabriel. “Want you. Want you to come home with me. Come back home?”

Gabriel pulled away, looking at Sam through moist eyelashes. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll come back. Just... can I get a different room? I don’t want that enochian shit on the walls anymore, and-“

“You can stay in mine.” The words tumbled from his mouth like verbal diarrhea, unable to stop as soon as he started. “With me, of course. Or you could take it for now and Ill sleep in the infirmary until we figure things out, and-“

This time it was Gabriel kissing him to shut him up, softer, more languid kisses, tongue swiping inside Sam’s mouth and causing his knees to buckle despite sitting down. “Yeah, I’d like that. Sharing a room, I mean. Is your bed even big enough for the both of us?”

“We’ll make it work.”

Gabriel smiled at him, big and as golden as his eyes. “Okay then. Let’s go take a nap first, cuz I’m exhausted and you’ve been driving all night and your eyes look shot to hell, babe.” Gabriel froze, one hand on Sam’s bicep, a flash of fear in his eyes. “Wait. Do.. is it okay if I call you that? Are we...?” He motioned between them.

Sam grabbed onto his hand, pressing tiny kisses onto it as Gabriel’s other hand tightened on his bicep minutely. “Yeah. We can be, I want to be, but I don’t want to push you, I just-“ he took a deep breath in, eyes shutting as he committed how he felt in that moment to memory. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Gabriel shook his head, leaning in to press kisses all over Sam’s face. “I don’t wanna wait either.”

[doodlingadventures]

Spirits be with you pt 1 - beta

Hey! this is a transcription of the questline “The fallen chieftain”, regarding Vol’jin’s fate in Battle for Azeroth. It includes the quest texts, but also a few screenshots, the dialogues in between, and a bit of commentary. This is as far as we have in the beta, and there is a missing quest line between the end of this one and Talanji and Vol’jin’s cinematic, so remember that what I’m showing you now can change once it hits live.

It’s spoilers for BFA, so if you want to avoid them, stop reading and come back at a later time! (and if you’re on the app… i’m so sorry. this is going to be long).

After completing the Scenario “Zandalar Forever” and turning in the quest, Rokhan will appear on the Great Seal, offering the following quest

Zalzane returns.

Rokhan: Hero, I’ve never needed your help as much as I do this day. My home be under attack.

I only just heard myself, Master Gadrin be callin’ for aid. Zalazane, an old enemy of da Darkspears, has returned to da Echo Isles and has brought with him an army of da dead.

Zalazane be a traitor who has slain many Darkspears and defiled their souls. Will you come with me to defeat him? We can take da ship dat departs da Port of Zandalar.

Rokhan (to Talanji): I gotta borrow da champion for a bit. An old enemy somehow escaped Bwonsamdi and now be threatenin’ my home.

Talanji: My dear Rokhan, de Darkspear tribe has more than earned de aid of de Zandalar. I will join you to help as I can.

Once you take the ship and arrive to the Echo Isles, you can already see hostile undead trolls attacking the Darkspear NPCs.

(the only thing I don’t like about this is that they took the red feathers from the urn :C now it looks less like Vol’jin)

Broken Bargain.

Master Gadrin: These mindless undead just keep coming. They be far stronger than they were last time Zalazane walked this world.

Please help us drive these undead back.

The Glaive of Vol’jin.

Zen’tabra:When fighting someone who has escaped the grasp of Bwonsamdi, as Zalazane has, it is best to bring weapons that can hurt him.

In Darkspear Hold you will find the Glaive of Vol'jin. It should have enough bond with Vol'jin's spirit to aid us in this fight.

As you kill the Undead Trolls, you can hear Zalazane yelling.

Zalazane: Search, minions. Find da ashes of Vol’jin and bring them to me.

When retrieving the glaive, you can notice one of the undead just observing it.

Broken Bargain. Completion.

Master Gadrin: The dead should stay dead.

The Glaive o Vol’jin. Completion

Zen’tabra: The bond between Vol'jin and Zalazane was one of magic and bargains with loa.

The bond between Vol'jin and dis weapon was also great. Dis may be what we need to finally destroy that spirit.

Vengeance for Vol’jin.

Master Gadrin: If we mean to destroy Zalazane then we gonna need something that can damage that spirit.

Da Glaive of Vol'jin might be what we need to do this.

Zalazane be hovering near where he fell so many years ago. Rokhan and Talanji have already gone to face him. Go, slay Zalazane, and then plunge da glaive into the spirit before it can escape. Let us hope de bargain Vol'jin made be powerful enough to destroy this enemy.

When you head towards Zalazane’s fall and engage him, he has a few lines.

Zalazane:Ya not be hidin’ him from me forever. I’m gonna have my revenge on Vol’jin and all of da Darkspear!

Zalazane: I have learned much by watching Bwonsamdi as he tortured my soul. Let me show ya some of his style of voovoo.

Zalazane:Ya be tinkin’ ya can win? Ya can only delay ya destiny.

Spirit of Zalazane: Ya tink destroyin’ my body… that’s gonna stop me… from ripping ya apart?

Once you kill him, his spirit appears and starts attacking you. This is when you can activate Vol’jin’s glaive effect on use.

Spirit of Zalazane:What? Vol’jin… you could not have grown so strong without becoming… a…

(Vol’jin does not show up. Zalazane just glows for a moment and then banishes in the same effect Bwonsamdi uses to appear and disappear)

Before turning in, the characters have a few lines.

Master Gadrin: Da dead, dey be fallin’...

Rokhan: Zalazane not gonna come back from dat. Even in death, Vol’jin be watchin’ over us.

Talanji: Few spirits have ever shown such… power. Master Gadrin, I invite you to bring dis chieftain’s ashes to Atal’Dazar. If his spirit is worthy, he may have a place of honor amongst our greatest kings.

Vengeance for Vol’jin. Completion.

Master Gadrin:Da blade... it be glowin'. It never did dat before.

Squad goals.

Honoring a true leader.

Master Gadrin: Vol'jin. I have often felt our old chieftain's spirit whisperin' to me. His strength was da lifeblood of da Darkspear tribe. Some would even say he was da spirit of da true Horde.

Princess Talanji's offer is a great one. I shall travel with Vol'jin's ashes to Atal'Dazar. If ya be wishin' to join us for dis procession, meet us upon da famed Golden Road.

We take back the ship and head towards Atal’dazar’s flightpoint. Master Gadrin and Talanji are waiting for us.

Honoring a true leader. Completion.

Master Gadrin: Da power here... it be in da very earth. Da spirits be strong and ancient in dis land.

Vol’jin, son of Sen’jin.

Master Gadrin: Even in da Echo Isles we have heard of da traditions of da Golden Road. We must walk in da presence of royalty and hail da accomplishments of Vol'jin so dat his spirit be welcome here amongst da ancient kings.

I shall carry da ashes, if you light da fires. Know that any member of any other tribe may contest us. As our champion, we will need you to fend them off if they do.

The quest starts, and you follow Master Gadrin and Talanji.

Master Gadrin: We come bearin’ da ashes of Vol’jin, son of Sen’jin, ta be honored in dis sacred place.

Talanji: Dis is an honor seldom awarded to one not of Zandalar. Come, walk de path with me and share dis Vol’jin’s deeds.

There are three Braziers on the path that you must light. Each one shows a familiar scene.

First brazier lighted.

Master Gadrin: Vol’jin made a deal wit’ Bwonsamdi ta defeat da powerful Zalazane.

Vision of Vol’jin: Aid us, Bwonsamdi! Help us regain our home! Return de Darkspear to d Isles and hear your drums again! Drink your ritual offerings once more! Dis, as de Son of Sen’jin, I swear (with his old voice. It’s the scene from the old event on teh Echo Isles during Wrath).

As you try to continue your path, two sandfury challengers appear, yelling : No Horde filth gonna be worthy of dis place. We of da Sandfury challenge ya!

Master Gadrin and Talanji will simply wait for you at the next brazier while you kill these idiots. You can take your time.

Before reaching the second brazier, a Gurubashi berserker appears, bellowing: No Darkspear! No dumb trolls in fancy troll place!

Second brazier lighted.

Master Gadrin: When Zandalar tried ta unite da troll tribes, Vol’jin chose da safety of his people over da prophet’s dar powers.

Talanji: At de time, Zul’s vision of a grand troll empire was very tempting to my father. I must commend your chieftain for seeing de bigger picture.

On your way to the last brazier, a couple of Amani challengers yell : Ya not gonna be bringin’ dat Horde lovin’ traitor to dis sacred place! (bitch eat my shrapnel bombs)

Third brazier lighted.

Master Gadrin: When it be clear dat our warchief, Garrosh, be unwillin’ ta lead with honor, Vol’jin led da rebellion ta depose da warmonger.

Talanji: It is a hard thing to do what your leaders will not.

Vol’jin, son of Sen’jin. Completion.

Talanji: Vol'jin. I must admit, I am impressed with his deeds. Had we met in dis world, I am sure he and I would have had much in common.(blizzard pls)

Atal’dazar; Ashes of a Warchief.

Talanji: I have learned much of de Darkspear lately. Truth is, I have quietly admired dem since I was a little girl, hearin' of Vol'jin's defiance of Zul's reckless call to action. (girl HOW OLD ARE YOUU?!?!?!?!)

Vol'jin was Warchief of the Horde, chieftain of de Darkspear, and more troll den most can claim to be (thank you). His ashes should be honored in a place of kings and queens.

Take de ashes to Atal'Dazar with my blessing and honor your former Warchief as he deserves.

If you’re not a rogue or a hunter, you’ll need a group for this.

Past  the first boss, starting at the right, there’s a small, tranquil lake where you can see the glowing silhouette of the urn.

Once you place it, Bwonsamdi will materialize.

Bwonsamdi: No, no, no, my little hero. Ya not be leavin’ dat here.

Atal’dazar; Ashes of a Warchief. Completion.

Bwonsamdi: You and I need be talkin'.

You owe me a spirit.

Bwonsamdi: Ya not leaving that here. Ol' Vol'jin not be dancin' in my house. I not be seein' his spirit for a long time. 

Its absence has broken de bonds dat held Zalazane in my control. So... I want you to lift dat heavy urn, and bring it to my necropolis.

Vol'jin and I gonna have a face to face on my ground.

Then you have to go to the Necropolis, in Nazmir. The only thing different is that Zalazane’s spirit is no longer dangling at the entrance.

You owe me a spirit. Completion.

Bwonsamdi: I have waited some time for dis. Long overdue hee hee... wait a moment.

As for now, you only get the achievement “The fallen chieftain” (first half of the “spirits be with you” questline). There are no following quests to this one, yet, but if you stay, Bwonsamdi has a few extra lines.

Bwonsamdi: Be off, hero. Ain’ nothin’ for ya here now.

Bwonsamdi: Ay, Vol’jin? Come one outta dat urn. Wait… wait, wait… no! Where be da spirit?! Where be Vol’jin?

Bwonsamdi: No! No! Impossible. Da boss ain’t gonna like dis.Ol’ Bwonsamdi not be losin’ a spirit in… oh, dis be bad.

This raises a lot of questions. Like, a lot XD but for now it’s all we have. I am curious as to where they are taking this.They keep mentioning Vol’jin’s past deeds as a leader, and also the union of the tribes keeps being mentioned; in this questline, in other as you advance the story, and by a couple of “predictions” a certain NPC on the Zocalo give us. (Madame Konawla)

(I mean, she gives a lot, but these two are the most interesting regarding our current topic)

Uniting the troll tribes (this I have repeated enough on my theories xD) and “ressurection of former friend”. I can only think of Vol’jin or Zalazane , since she  mentions “it will depend on your friend” (although Zalazane would only makes sense if she was talking to a darkspear, and she gives this to any race I’ve tried) If you can think of someone else please say, I get stuck very easily

Well, you know where the inbox is 8D I’ll say as soon as I find the second questline avaiable!

[gillianfoster]

so this is the first two chapters just in case you hadn’t read the full first one @basinhounds ta da

chapter 1

At 38, Eddie Kaspbrak felt like he had a pretty nice life. He had a nice place in New York, just outside of the city, because living in the city would have stressed him out too much - taking the Subway was like something out of a fucking nightmare. He had his own business - a driving business he’d started himself and built from the ground up. He did well for himself, had the money to travel from time to time if he liked.

The only problem, really, was that he lived alone. 38 years old and completely, slightly miserably, single.

For a long time, Eddie hadn’t had the heart to force his mother to move out of the house she had long ago insisted they share when he finished college. That meant no serious dating, no bringing anyone home. It meant that even though his mother had died a few years back, Eddie had still never had a serious relationship. He wasn’t a complete loss - he’d gone out to bars, he had fooled around a little in college, but that only meant so much.

Now that had his mother had passed away, Eddie was just. Well. Nervous. Dating still didn’t make much sense to him, and it definitely didn’t seem like he’d be any good at it. Once he had downloaded Grindr because he’d overheard one of his other drivers talking about it, but he’d gotten one message, had a panic attack, taken his anti-anxiety medication, and deleted the app again.

Probably no thanks to his overbearing mother, Eddie didn’t actually have any real kind of physical disease. He didn’t have asthma, or AIDS, or anything else his mother had fear-mongered him about for years and years. He just had what his therapist called one of the most severe cases of anxiety I’ve ever seen.

Life with his mother had nearly smothered Eddie, but at some point he hardly remembered now, some part of him had managed to break free. He’d known he was gay for longer than he could remember, in spite of his mother’s awful warnings about what could happen to him - which had probably come out of the fact that she’d known, somewhere deep down. He remembered, vaguely, that when he was young and growing up, she’d forced him to take medication for some unknown illness, some vague inclination that he was sick. Now the only prescription he took was one he’d chosen and had only ever gotten filled on his own. Sometimes, when he woke up from vague and misty nightmares, he got the phantom sensation of holding an inhaler, of the need to take a deep inhale of something that tasted a little like battery acid - but of course that was silly. He’d never had asthma. Only panic attacks. And he couldn’t remember ever using an inhaler - but as he’d established with his therapist, he’d forgotten an unusually large portion of his childhood.

Eddie knew he’d grown up in Maine, because his mother had told him so. There were some pictures of him, presumably taken there, but only pictures of him, alone, dressed up for Halloween or learning to ride a bike. That made sense to him, really, that his mom had kept him away from other kids - that he’d been alone a lot. Frankly, he was surprised sometimes that he hadn’t been homeschooled, but he could remember the last few years of high school, after he and his mother had moved to upstate New York. He’d struggled to make friends there, too.

These were the things he thought about sometimes, getting stuck in traffic on the way to JFK. He always listened to music to fill the silence, but it didn’t always manage to distract him from his thoughts. For better or worse, the long and slow commute to the airport was unavoidable. Step one of getting a particular job was nearly always picking up whoever could afford one of his cars at the airport, fancy name sign in hand and all.

He’d driven real celebrities before, some more exciting than others, but the guy coming in today was someone Eddie had never heard of. A quick google search had established that the guy was a comedian, and his pictures gave Eddie an idea of who to look for, but nothing about him really rang any bells.

Of course, that was what he’d thought looking at his tiny phone screen.

When the guy comes down the escalator, and Eddie’s standing there in a suit, sign in hand, the first bizarre thought that he has is that he feels like the guy should be wearing glasses - but that doesn’t make any sense at all. There hadn’t been any pictures of him with glasses. And there’s nothing wrong with his face - thin nose, big dark eyes, curly hair. Actually, Eddie has to admit he finds him pretty handsome or. Well. Striking. Attractive. But he still feels for some reason like the guy should be wearing glasses. Eddie nudges his own up at the thought. The only thing his mother had ever been right about - constantly taking him to the eye doctor. Her bad vision had been hereditary after all.

The guy finally seems to catch sight of the sign, and he makes eye contact with Eddie and smiles as he walks over. “Guess you’re the lucky driver who’s stuck with me, huh?”

Eddie looks at the sign and then back up at him. “You’re Richie Tozier?”

“That’d be me. And you are?”

His customers don’t usually ask his name. It’s sort of nice. Eddie smiles back and offers his hand. “Eddie Kaspbrak. Nice to meet you.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Richie says, and Eddie finds that his name sounds strange coming out of the other man’s mouth, for no apparent reason. He shakes the thought from his mind, and hopes his weird obsession with this stranger’s lack of glasses goes with it.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

The guy gets weird, of course, as soon as they get to the car. Every celebrity has their quirks, and for whatever reason, Richie Tozier refuses to sit in the back seat.

“I mean it’s gotta be fucking weird, right? I’m just like, a guy, I don’t need to sit in the back like I’m better than you, we can both just sit up front.”

“People really do tend to sit in the back, it’s sort of the point of hiring a car. People sit back there, sometimes we make polite conversation. It’s not that weird, it’s really just... My job.”

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me that it’s not at least a little weird like never making eye contact with whoever you’re talking to except through a mirror. This isn’t Driving Miss Daisy, I’m not an eccentric old rich lady and you’re clearly not Morgan Freeman, my agent set all this up. Just let me sit up front.”

The reference isn’t even that funny, but for some reason Eddie finds himself smiling. He also still has the passing thought that sometimes not having to make eye contact is easier, but it passes quickly with Richie looking back at him. “Wow, timely reference there. Comedian of the year award goes to Richie Tozier.” Eddie then, immediately, realizes he’s been far too snarky to be talking to a client, and he’s about to apologize profusely when Richie bursts out laughing.

“Eddie Spaghetti gets off a good one!”

Eddie makes a face and shakes his head. “What the hell did you just call me? Was that - are you five?”

“Not working for you? We’ll find one.”

“Are you - are you seriously insisting you’re going to give me a nickname? I’m your driver, I’m not - what?”

“Eds, look, I’m gonna be in New York for a while! Got a lot of shows to do, a lot of guest spots to record, an audition for SNL that my agent is insisting I go to - we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Not that one either.”

Richie grins at him, and for some reason, gently pats him on the cheek. “We’ll get there.”

Eddie sighs and finally reaches to open the front door for Richie, but Richie beats him to it with his ridiculously long arm and Eddie just shakes his head and goes around to the driver’s side. It’s odd having someone up front with him, but not as odd as it could be. There’s something comfortable about Richie - maybe it’s the aura he puts off. It’s not effortless, he’s not cool enough for that - but it’s obvious that part of what makes him funny is that he doesn’t care if he looks weird or like an idiot, or if his references are timely. It’s some kind of confidence that’s miles away from cocky. It makes Eddie feel less like he’s going to make an idiot out of himself - Richie kind of already has made an idiot out of himself, after all, and it’s only made Eddie strangely fond of him.

Eddie gets the car started and puts the address of Richie’s hotel into his GPS, and then they start the hours long commute back into the city. Richie’s all folded up in some way that Eddie can’t fully comprehend without staring, his legs looking too long for the seat, somehow. Eddie’s not a short guy, he had his growth spurt in high school just like most people, but Richie just seems like he’s all limbs.

“How long have we got, then?”

Eddie doesn’t need to check the GPS to know - he’s done this drive enough to estimate based on time of day and traffic. “At least an hour. Sorry. There’s music if you want it, or you’ve always got the option of sitting on your phone and ignoring me - but I’m guessing you sitting up here means you’re not going to take that option.”

In some bizarre sports announcer voice, Richie says “Score one for Team Kaspbrak! Just look at the kid go!”

“How are you a comedian?” Eddie asks, which then makes him wonder if he lost his brain to mouth filter somewhere on the way to the airport.

Eddie can see Richie’s smile out of the corner of his eye, but it’s a strange sort of half-smile. “You want the interview answer or the real answer?”

“Well we’ve got an hour, and you decided to sit up here, Mr. Tozier. It’s not like we’ve got anything better going on.”

Richie makes a face. “Jesus fuck, nobody even called my dad Mr. Tozier, call me Richie before I have to tell my agent to hire a new driver.”

Richie’s obviously joking, and that makes the moment even better. Some part of Eddie wants to keep calling Richie Mr. Tozier just to see him get annoyed, but with a small smile, and a mental note made for later, Eddie just nods.

“Right. Well. Serious answer, then. Ah... Kind of had a fucked up childhood, don’t remember most of it. I assume at some point in there I picked up the whole. Doing voices thing. Probably a desperate cry for attention, you know how it is. In high school I started doing theater and shit, and I got better at it. I ran off to California first chance I got, lived in a shitty apartment, took some improv classes, and eventually I got fucking lucky.”

“Guessing the interview answer doesn’t have that many curse words, then.”

Richie snorts. “Well. I get my fair share of bleeps. I fuck up a lot.”

Eddie glances over, and feels like he should offer up something about himself in exchange. He doesn’t know why he’s having a real conversation like this with a client who’ll leave again soon enough - but Richie did say he’s staying for a bit. “I guess we can just call this car the fucked up childhood club. Two certified members in one place.”

“You too, huh?”

Eddie shrugs. “My mother was a nightmare.”

“Your dad?”

“Died when I was a kid. I don’t remember him. Or much of anything. You said you don’t either?”

Richie shakes his head. “Must be something in the water.”

There’s something about that sentence that makes Eddie wince, but he can’t place what it is, so he tries to shrug it off. “Mm. I don’t know, my therapist seems to imply that it isn’t exactly normal.”

“Eh, what’s a therapist know? Emotional maturity is vastly overrated.”

“Yeah, great, thanks. I’ll start taking my mental health advice from a TV comedian, that seems like a brilliant idea.”

Richie laughs, and Eddie smiles.

“I do have to say, I’m starting to wonder if you’re funnier than I am, Eds.”

“You’ve gotta stop calling me that.”

“Shh, just let it grow on you.”

Eddie makes a disgusted noise, but is still privately a little pleased by both Richie’s compliment and the fact that he’s determined to come up with some kind of special nickname for Eddie. A small part of him wonders if Richie is flirting, but down that path lies both panic and disappointment, so Eddie firmly shuts himself down. The guy is almost certainly straight, and even if he wasn’t, there’s no reason he should be flirting with Eddie.

“What do you do other than drive, Eds?”

Eddie gets so distracted by his own sudden embarrassment that he forgets to tell Richie off for the nickname, because... Well. He doesn’t do much of anything. Sits around his house listening to records, which is apparently becoming cool again. Travels, in theory, but he hasn’t done much of it. He tells himself it’s because he’s afraid to leave the business unattended, but he knows some part of himself is still afraid, at least he’s afraid of going somewhere too far away alone.

“Well. I, uh. Travel. Listen to music.”

“Travel? Ever been out to the west coast?”

“No. You live in LA, right?” It’s a cowardly subject change, but Eddie’s never claimed to be brave.

“Sure do. LAX to JFK, one way ticket.”

Now that’s a surprise. “One way?”

“Well. My agent really wants me to get that part on SNL.”

Richie could be moving to New York. Eddie’s met someone he’s moderately fond of, and that someone might be staying in New York.

“Wow. Well. That certainly is confident.” Eddie pauses, and looks over. For once, it seems like there’s actually some level of anxiety lingering beneath Richie’s expression. “Do you want the part?”

Richie seems to crack a little, and he laughs, but somehow Eddie knows there’s something off about it. “You wanna know the truth, Eds? It’s pretty much the one part I’ve always wanted. It’s the one thing I do remember from growing up - my parents never cared enough to tell me to fuck off and go to bed, so I’d stay up every Saturday night and watch the show. I still remember seeing the first Wayne’s World sketch. I used to idolize Dana Carvey. I’m pretty sure that all had something to do with me getting into all this shit - that’s the interview answer, actually, more or less. So yeah. Yes. I want the part. And I’m scared shitless that I’m not going to get it.”

“You’ll get it,” Eddie says without thinking. Somehow, some part of him knows that it’s the truth. Richie can get the part. He’ll get it. Eddie hasn’t even really heard him be funny yet, but there’s something about him that inspires absolute confidence on Eddie’s part.

“That’s sweet.”

Eddie looks over and sees Richie smiling at him, and he has to look back at the road before he does something stupid. “I’m not just saying it because you’re paying me, I mean it. Just.” I’ve just got a feeling. “There has to be a reason your agent’s so confident, right? Otherwise it’d be dumb to pull a stunt like that. You’ll get it.”

“Are you a fan?”

His brow furrowing, Eddie looks over. “Is there a right answer to that?”

“Well, at this point it’d be a little bit creepy if you were and hadn’t said anything yet.”

“I’d never heard of you in my life, before today. I had to google you. That what you wanted to hear?”

“Wow. Never even heard of me?”

Eddie shakes his head, and Richie pouts at him. “That’s ridiculous, what are you even doing with your face? Look, I think you’re funny now. I just told you I think you can get a part on SNL, what else do you want?”

“You actually believe in me more now that you met me? That’s unprecedented.”

Richie’s self-deprecating joke makes Eddie snort out a laugh, and then Richie laughs, too - at him, a little, but also with him. Eddie doesn’t mind.

“What about you, Eds? What’d you wanna be when you grew up? You always plan on becoming a driver?”

The question is a surprise - Eddie hasn’t really had anyone ask him anything like that, mostly because he hasn’t gotten to know anyone in a while. “Well, I’m not just a driver. I started the company. Kaspbrak isn’t in the name obviously because it’s a little weird and also sort of a mouthful, but I do well enough running things. I like to drive, so I still take jobs, but mostly I organize who gets what clients, that sort of stuff. Make sure special requests get taken care of.”

“Special requests?”

Eddie smiles. He has a feeling Richie’s going to like this part. “Well, we get a lot of wealthy clients, celebrities, people who don’t want to just take a taxi and risk the driver’s recognition. We get a lot of people a lot more famous than you, no offense. And sometimes they have special requests, and part of our business model and what keeps us so successful is that we grant them, within reason. Requests for certain types of cars or things to have stocked in the back.”

“...Please tell me you’re gonna tell me some of the interesting ones.”

“Well, we’ve gotta have something to fill the time, don’t we? So I can start with a couple of the best ones, but after that I’d suggest you just start naming people and I can tell you if the company’s ever driven for them and then tell you if they had any requests.”

Eddie starts by covering Mick Jagger’s request for 100 condoms, Jennifer Lopez’s need for a car upholstered in white fabric, and how Katy Perry had insisted that the driver not speak to her at all. Richie asked about Lady Gaga (who had a penchant for gummi worms), Zach Galifinakis (who was mostly just surprisingly rude about everything), and Charlie Day (who didn’t make any special requests, but sang pretty loudly in the backseat).

By then, they’re actually getting close to Richie’s hotel, which is ridiculous, because it doesn’t even feel like it’s been an hour.

Eddie decides to bring up something else he’s curious about. “Why are you staying in a hotel if you’re planning to stay?”

“Still need to find an apartment, or someone to stay with. If I actually get the part, I’ll start figuring all that out. In the meantime, I feel better just treating the stay as temporary. The last thing I need to do is take any of this for granted.”

Eddie immediately wants to offer his house to Richie which is... Absurd at best. At worst, frankly sort of dangerous, because God knows what Richie’s actually like or what he could be into, or whatever else. Eddie doesn’t know him at all. He’s a total stranger. One good conversation doesn’t make an invitation for a strange man to stay in your house - even if your house is empty, the stranger is sort of gorgeous (that’s a dangerous upgrade, Eddie acknowledges to himself), and the two of you seem to have some kind of instant chemistry.

“Well. If worst comes to worst I could always let you sleep in the car,” Eddie jokes instead, and it earns him another laugh.

Quietly turning off the GPS, Eddie takes the longest possible route through the city to Richie’s hotel. He only feels a little guilty about it. He’s been paid in advance, so it’s not about that - he just wants to spend a little more time with Richie, which is dangerous, and much worse than just trying to get a little more money.

Eddie pulls up in front of a moderately nice hotel. It’s not really that nice, but if Richie might be staying for a while, that makes enough sense.

“Am I driving you for your whole stay, then?” Eddie asks, and Richie blinks those big eyes at him.

“You have somewhere else to be, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Jesus, don’t call me that.” Richie grins and Eddie sighs at him. “No. I don’t. We can set a time for pickup every day or on particular days, for now, just. Here, what’s your phone number?”

Richie reels off the numbers, and Eddie quickly shoots him a text.

Just call me when you need a ride.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Eds.” There’s an implication in Richie’s voice that Eddie doesn’t know how to deal with, so he swallows down the noise he might have made and then helps Richie with his bags until people come out of the hotel to assist. Eddie nods at Richie, and Richie nods back, and even though it seems inexplicably wrong, Eddie drives away.

---

chapter 2

The next morning, while he’s still having his coffee, Eddie gets a text.

hey can you pick me up like five minutes ago i woke up late and i’ve got a taping today for the daily show

My car isn’t actually magic but I’ll be there as soon as I can

do you seriously leave auto-capitalization on that’s hilarious

It helps when I have clients I’m actually supposed to be professional with instead of ones who text me in lowercase and insist on sitting in the front seat

being professional’s boring. who ever heard of a professional comedian?

wait

Well you’re certainly not one are you?

i’m not even laughing at that i left that wide open for you, i’m really the one responsible for that joke

Sure you are Mr. Tozier

oh my god just bring the car over i’m still fucking asleep. i’m absolutely getting my agent to hire a new driver

Eddie grins into his coffee, but he quickly dresses and makes his way into the city. With the routes and the tricks he knows, the trip is fairly short - there are ways to get anywhere in a hurry if you need to. He texts Richie to let him know he’s there and he gets one back that says: just come up i’m in room 217

After making his way to the second floor, Eddie knocks at the door, and - Well.

Richie pulls the door open, and he’s wearing glasses. They’re old - big, thick frames and even thicker lenses, and they make his eyes even bigger. He’s still got bedhead, and he’s even still wearing sleep clothes, he looks... Well. Eddie just stares at him, because he doesn’t know what else to do, because Richie looks fucking gorgeous, and that’s just terrible for Eddie on multiple fucking levels.

“So it’s possible that I texted you and then fell back asleep like a fucking asshole so I’m inviting you up so you can like. Physically drag me from the building if necessary. But first I’m gonna make a really valiant effort at getting dressed, so. Gonna go in the bathroom and do that, you can sit down wherever.”

Eddie does sit down on the edge of the bed, sort of because he doesn’t entirely trust his legs. “You wear glasses,” he says stupidly.

“Oh. Yeah.” Richie winces, and. Is he blushing a little? “I mean not really anymore these frames are probably from fucking like, 1995 or something, but I take my contacts out at night so. Late at night and early in the morning I do.”

It’s beyond weird that Eddie thought that Richie should wear glasses, and he does. But still - maybe just. They suit him. And they do, in a way. It’s just that Eddie knows that’s not what he thought or meant, and some part of him somehow knew that Richie wore glasses - but that’s exactly the sort of thing Eddie can be very talented at ignoring. So he does.

While Richie’s changing, as he’s ducked into the bathroom while Eddie was freaking out, Eddie looks around the room. It’s already somehow cluttered with Richie’s clothing and luggage - and that doesn’t surprise Eddie in the least, based on Richie’s personality. Richie doesn’t make his bed either, so Eddie’s sitting on a rumpled comforter and - well that’s certainly a dangerous train of thought. He’s sitting here now, and Richie slept here last night in his rumpled sleep clothes, probably with those little glasses marks on either side of his nose from wearing his glasses before bed, and he was probably sprawled over the bed, all warm and - Yeah. Bad. Eddie looks for another distraction.

Deciding that looking too closely at Richie’s things is just going to get creepy, Eddie turns his attention to poking at his phone. It’s such a deliberate distraction that he’s incredibly self-aware of it, over-alert for when Richie will come back out of the bathroom and it’ll be time to head out for his taping.

With the business working the way it does, Eddie doesn’t ever really need to take more than one job at once. Really, he could stop driving entirely and let the rest of his drivers take over, but he likes to stay busy. That means, though, that his only client is Richie, and he suddenly wonders what he’s going to do while Richie is in the taping. He has a passing thought that it would be nice to watch Richie, but there’s no reason he should be invited in. He starts searching around on his phone for things to do, instead, so he’ll be able to entertain himself - maybe he can catch a movie or something.

It probably says something, the fact that Eddie can’t stand to be left alone with his thoughts and with nothing to do for very long at all. That’s another thing he chooses to ignore most of the time.

Richie comes walking out of the bathroom, and he’s fully dressed and his glasses are gone - he’s wearing a blazer and a patterned collared shirt, unbuttoned at the throat, all much nicer than his pyjamas. He looks gorgeous, still, but now he’s attractive in a way that doesn’t even seem touchable. Probably for the best.

“Are you ready to go, then?”

“Shoes,” Richie mumbles, and it turns into a yawn. Eddie glances down and sees him wiggling his socked feet against the carpet. Richie sits down on the bed beside him to put on his shoes, and Eddie isn’t sure how long it’s been since he was this close to another person - especially on a bed.

He decides to crack a joke - or at least try. “You know it’s really not that early.”

“Well, it’s three hours earlier for me, first of all. And second of all, I tend to do shows at night in LA, not in the middle of the goddamn day.”

“Pretty grumpy when you don’t get your sleep, huh?”

Richie cracks a smile at that again. “What can I say? Need my beauty sleep, Eddie Spaghetti. Not all of us are as naturally lucky as you.”

Eddie has to fight down a blush at that one - what a hell of a line. He snorts, and looks away. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. Put your shoes on.” Standing up, he looks at his phone one last time before putting it away. “Didn’t you say you were already late?”

Once he’s done getting his shoes on, Richie stands up, shoves his hands in his pockets, and shrugs. “May as well go all in, right? I mean, at this point.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not exactly how that works, but then again I guess I’m not a publicist or an agent - I’m just your driver.” He goes for the door and pulls it open. “Ready now?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He walks through the door as Eddie holds it open, and he’s a little surprised, there, that Richie isn’t weird about that door, too.

As soon as they get down the car, Richie practically leaps to open his own door and get into the front seat - Eddie had wondered if it might have been a one off, but apparently not. Apparently he’s going to just keep driving with Richie in his passenger seat. He doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s glad, but he smiles a little as he gets in on the driver’s side and sets things up to get Richie to his taping as quickly as possible.

Eddie’s seen The Daily Show before, but he doesn’t watch it religiously - he’s not entirely sure either, why Richie’s been asked on, but he assumes they generally have guest comedians or something, and that’s what Richie will be doing. He knows he could ask, but he still can’t stop thinking about Richie in his glasses and pyjamas, so he doesn’t exactly trust himself to open his mouth.

“You’re quiet this morning, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Oh don’t start that again,” Eddie groans, and Richie laughs a little. It’s hard to try and keep a straight face - it’s possible that a hint of a smile sneaks onto the corners of Eddie’s mouth, but he’d never admit it. “Anyways I’m just focusing on driving, we’re in a hurry. You can put the music on if you want, since you’re up here with access. Not sure if it’ll be to your taste, though.”

Richie shrugs, seemingly appeased, and messes around with Eddie’s ipod for a second before he hits play, and the sounds of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” fill the car.

With a grin, Richie turns to look at Eddie. “Breakfast Club, huh?”

Eddie can’t stop himself from smiling back that time, but he sighs and shakes his head. “First of all, it’s a good movie. Second of all, it’s a good song. Do you want to try and argue with that?”

“Me? No, of course not. John Bender was my hero in high school.”

“God, of course he was.”

“What about you?” Richie presses. “You’re a little like - well. You know, I was gonna say that nerdy kid, but honestly you’re so high-strung sometimes you remind me of Molly Ringwald.”

Eddie frowns and opens his mouth for a moment without even being able to find his words. “Are you - did you really just compare me to Claire Standish? First of all, I am not that high-strung-”

“You flipped shit when I wanted to sit in the back seat and you know it. I can tell, you spend your whole life stressed out.”

“You don’t even know me that well!” The fact is that Richie’s words sting a little because they’re probably true - but also because Richie puts Eddie at ease, and if Richie thinks he’s high-strung now, god knows what he would have thought if he’d ever seen Eddie outside of this week. “Also, you wish you were John Bender, the only thing you have in common is that you both make stupid jokes.”

“Of course, I can only aspire to that level of greatness. I’m clearly never winning you over, Eds.”

And was that - was that an actual reference to him trying to get with Eddie? Well. It was a stupid joke, obviously, because of the song, and the movie. “Mm, well, I can’t exactly put on lipstick with my cleavage anyways,” Eddie murmurs, and Richie laughs out loud again. Eddie counts himself fortunate that comebacks like that almost seem to be second nature to him around Richie.

All their joking around has gotten them to the studio, and Eddie stops the car at a side entrance. “Alright. I can be back to pick you up-”

“You’re not gonna stay?”

Richie seems genuine, and Eddie blinks at him. “Well. I can. I don’t have any other jobs, I just thought-”

“Don’t be silly, then, come in. I’ll get you a seat and it’ll be over before you know it. Then we can go out and celebrate or something.”

“Celebrate your first taping?”

“Why not? Come on.”

Eddie gets out and follows Richie into the studio. Once they realize Richie’s finally there, he’s yanked off, and Eddie is led out to the audience, and apparently taping of the parts that aren’t Richie have already started, so it’s only once there’s a break in the show that he gets to sit down and take it all in. Seeing celebrities in person that he’s actually familiar with never gets any less strange for Eddie - you’d think that it would with time, but it’s still always just as strange to realize they’re real and tangible. Particularly in this case, watching The Daily Show film means Jon Stewart is right there, and if Eddie were to abandon all sense of propriety, he could just sort of leap down and - well, do anything really.

It’s then he realizes that he’s in as some sort of plus one for Richie - did the people that work in production think they’re together? Are they speculating? Eddie doesn’t know enough about how any of this works - he’s normally just a head in the front seat, getting to people where they need to go. This entire thing happening with Richie - it’s unprecedented in more ways than Eddie can really count.

Eddie misses a pretty solid portion of the show freaking out like that, but once he’s got his shit together, he still catches a few segments of current events and Jon cracking jokes before they bring Richie out.

There’s some kind of story, this particular week, about how there was a picture in a magazine with a little boy with his toenails painted pink, and apparently everyone lost their shit about it. Eddie tries to avoid the news, because it’s awful for his anxiety, so he hadn’t heard much of anything before now. He laughs at some of the jokes, but he still finds that ultimately he’s a little sad.

It’s a nice relief when Richie’s introduced and walks out, waving at the audience. Apparently this is something promotional for Richie’s upcoming standup special or something.

Jon clearly has questions prepared, and he starts to say something, but Richie cuts him off.

“Jon, can I just, say something about this whole nail polish thing?”

“Why not? Fire away.”

“Well I do think you should know better than to give me free reign, but sure. I just wanted to say, I absolutely used to paint my nails in high school - now given, I would paint them black, because I thought I was cool, and clearly I’ve turned out fine. Fine as ever, in fact.” Some woman in the audience whistles, and Richie winks.

“I’m not sure you should be winking at the audience, Richie - especially not that woman who looks like she may be a schoolteacher.”

“Right, well I’ll try to keep all winks directed at members of your audience I know personally, then.” Richie looks right at Eddie then, and winks, and Eddie knows that he’s blushing, and he’s glad that Jon says something so Richie looks back at him instead of Eddie.

Jon does steer him onto the standup special, but before Eddie can really process what’s happening, suddenly they’re talking about the misconceptions about foot size and penis size, and it’s all Eddie can do not to hide his face in his hands. Instead, he just puts one hand over his eyes and laughs, realizing that for some reason, Richie never really surprises him completely - everything seems familiar, seems to line up with Eddie’s precise expectations, but only in the most absurd ways.

After all of that mess, the interview seems to be over. Richie walks offstage, and Eddie very safely zones out for the rest of the taping until he can leave and find Richie. Instead, Richie finds him, tapping him on the shoulder before steering him back out of the studio.

“What did you think?” he asks with a grin.

Eddie sighs. “I think you’re ridiculous, but that’s not really a change. Do you still not have another show today?”

“No, my dear Eds, and I still think we should celebrate.” He slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, while they’re still outside the car.

“Do you have an early call tomorrow?”

“Nope. Stand up show tomorrow night at 8, call’s not until late afternoon. Does that get your permission? Can we go to a bar? Do you know anywhere?”

Eddie knows plenty of places, but they’re nearly all gay bars. “Well. I know a few places. I don’t know if you’d like them.”

“I have no preferences whatsoever, so now I insist we go to one of your places. Carry on, my good fellow!”

“Your British accent is terrible, please take it off before you get in my car.”

Richie grins and gestures like he’s zipping his lips before he gets in - Eddie knows better than to think that he’ll actually shut up, but he still gets into the car with only another roll of his eyes.

The least conspicuous place Eddie can think of is a bar he knows that also does karaoke - it’s still technically gay-friendly, and mostly gay clientele, and that’s why he goes, but he also knows some people do just go there for the karaoke, so he might get away with it. It’s early evening still, too - or it will be by the time they get there.

“You realize I can’t drink with you if I’m driving, don’t you?”

Richie turns to him with a mildly horrified expression, and Eddie just smiles.

“Well for fuck’s sake, Eds, that’s not gonna work at all. Let’s take the car back to the hotel, we’ll take a cab from there - there’s no way we’re doing that.”

Cabs aren’t really his competition, because people hire him because they don’t want to take cabs - but he doesn’t normally take them himself. It’s sort of funny to think about - but if that’s what Richie wants to do, it seems logical for once, and he doesn’t exactly mind.

“Don’t call me Eds. But fine. I need food at some point, though. You probably do, too. Let’s stop by a restaurant on the way.”

“If I’m taking the night off, can we do pizza?”

Once they’ve dropped the car at the hotel and gotten it parked under Richie’s name, they take a cab and find a cheap by-the-slice place just a few blocks from the bar. He left his blazer in the car at the hotel, and Richie had run up to his room, leaving them both in just button-downs and trousers. Eddie rolls up his sleeves to feel a little less like he’s in his work clothes, and Richie follows suit.

They eat cheap, delicious pizza, and Richie nearly makes him snort his drink out through his nose with a stupid joke about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles being named mostly after gay artists, and then they walk to the bar.

It’s only after they get seated and order their first drinks - a gin and tonic for Eddie, a beer for Richie - that Eddie realizes just how strange the situation is.

“Don’t you have any other friends in the city? Why are you out drinking with me?”

Richie shrugs, and gives Eddie something close to a smile. “If I knew anyone, my whole needing a place to stay problem would be fucking solved, wouldn’t it? I mean, there’s some other comedians in the city, that sort of thing, but you tell people you barely know ‘Oh sure look me up when you’re in the city!’ and you don’t mean it. I mean, I might would, but people don’t, generally. And if you subtract those people, the people I know in New York dwindles down to a solid zero. Plus, I don’t actually like any of them that much. I like you, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Richie clearly doesn’t have any issue speaking his mind, which is nice, to know that he’s honest, but that also means that his very genuine compliments keep catching Eddie off-guard, and since Eddie’s barely gotten any compliments in his life, let alone ones like that from gorgeous men, they keep making him blush - or nearly blush. He’s trying to stop it. He’s not sure it’s working.

“Well. I like you, too, for what it’s worth. You know, excepting all the annoying bad jokes and nicknames.”

“But Eds, that’s all I’ve got,” Richie says back, clearly pretending to be hurt in spite of his grin.

“Oh, true. Well. You know.”

Richie gives in and laughs, and Eddie laughs with him, and they clink their glasses together playfully before they both drink.

They’re a couple of drinks in, and both pleasantly buzzed, when Eddie catches Richie really looking around.

Eddie has a terrible feeling he’s caught.

Richie looks at the bartenders in tight shirts, who are men, and the couples in the other booths, who are men, and the guys seemingly on their way to hooking up in the corner (of course, tonight, of all nights), and he looks at Eddie with a surprised, and possibly delighted expression on his face.

“Edward Kaspbrak, did you bring me to a gay bar?”

“Okay, first of all, never call me that again, that’s so much worse than the terrible nicknames. Second of all, I, ah. I told you that you might not like it.”

“Are you kidding? I’m a little impressed. I didn’t think you had it in ya. You come here often, then?” Richie says, overtly flirtatious, and Eddie sighs.

“Save your cliché pickup lines for someone else, Richie. But, literally, yes I come here fairly often. They have karaoke and it’s nice and fairly casual, and it’s not like a club, it’s more like a bar. So. Yes.”

He watches Richie give him and then the bar an appraising look. “It’s nice. Not really like the places out in LA, those tend to get a lot more rowdy - this is nice. You’re right.”

“So you... go to gay bars often?”

Richie shrugs. “From time to time.” Then, he smirks a little. “You know, you can just ask. It’s 2014, and we’re in a gay bar. It’s not the 80s anymore.”

“Fine. Are you....?” Eddie doesn’t finish, because he’s still not sure what to ask.

“I’m bisexual. You?”

“I’m gay.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Eddie snorts. “God, that was terrible. Do you always go for just blatant dad jokes?”

“Only if I think they’ll land.” Richie winks at him again, and Eddie takes a drink, because he doesn’t know how else he’s going to make it through the night.

They sit there, drinking and chatting, until it’s actually time for karaoke to start - and Eddie’s just drunk enough that it seems like a great idea. He goes to sign up, and he drags Richie with him, by the wrist.

Richie’s wrist is thin enough that Eddie can nearly wrap his hand around it, and he can definitely feel the points of Richie’s bones, but his skin is warm, too, and soft, and Eddie really doesn’t want to let go. He signs his name on the sheet with his right hand while he’s still holding Richie’s wrist with his left.

He signs up to sing George Michael, because he can be as gay as he wants here, and Richie knows and he doesn’t care, and also maybe a little because he’s drunk.

He finally has to let go so Richie can sign up, too, and he uses his hands to hide the song from Eddie, and Eddie just giggles a little, excited to see Richie up onstage - excited to watch him perform, to hear his voice.

They spend the time before they get called up having another drink - and then someone sings Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” and Richie pulls him out onto the dance floor. Richie’s got Eddie’s hands in both of his, and mostly he just tugs him around the dance floor to the beat - save one very dramatic twirl at one point, that leaves Eddie dizzy and falling back into Richie, hands landing on his chest as he laughs.

Eddie’s still a little dizzy when they call him up to the stage, but he pushes Richie off and shoos him towards the seats and goes up to sing. He picked George Michael’s “Faith” specifically, because he watched the video every time they played it on MTV when he was young, and he’s known the words by heart ever since. Plus, it would be ridiculous if he tried to pretend he didn’t know that the song could be kind of sexy, or that he hadn’t picked it with that and the fact that Richie would be watching in mind.

He may not have a guitar, and he may not have the outfit (with him at least, but he definitely wore it as a costume once in high school), but he can’t keep himself from dancing at least a little as he sings. He takes the opportunity to run a hand across his chest as he sings “Well I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body, I know not everybody, has got a body like you,” and he hears a whistle. It was clearly Richie, so Eddie uses his courage, mostly liquid, to wink back at him. He shakes his hips throughout the song, and he’s grinning and a little out of breath when he comes off the stage.

Richie gets called up next, so they only pass each other as Eddie walks back towards the booth, but Richie just looks at him, his eyes dark and lingering, and Eddie bites his lip and fights a shiver as he sits down.

The song may have been a secret up until that point, but as soon as the music starts, Eddie recognizes it - Eddie Money’s “Take Me Home Tonight.” It’s incredibly blatantly sexual, well beyond Eddie’s choice, and Eddie blushes a little - but he also hopes it can be mistaken for the flush of alcohol, because God, he’s a grown man.

When Richie actually starts to sing, Eddie is captivated. His voice is raspy, probably from smoking in high school or something, because he seems the type. The lyrics, in Richie’s voice, are even worse than Eddie remembers. “I feel a hunger, it’s a hunger that tries to keep a man awake at night.” He’s a hell of a performer - dramatically gesturing and doing ridiculous expressions, using the microphone as a prop as much as he’s actually using it - but he keeps his eyes on Eddie’s the entire time. Eddie can’t look away either.

Around the second chorus, Eddie realizes the joke of the song, and he laughs a little, and Richie grins to watch him. The joke doesn’t take away the fact that Richie is fucking breathtaking on a stage - but Eddie tries to let it distract him just so he doesn’t pull Richie into the booth and kiss him as soon as he gets back, because he still has to drive Richie for at least the next couple of weeks that he was paid for in advance, and having sex with him right now would be a terrible idea. Right? Right.

Richie finally wraps up the song and jumps down off the stage, heading for Eddie.

“What’d you think, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“I think I’m still not drunk enough to let you get away with calling me that. And, ha ha, I get it, I’m your driver so most nights I am literally taking you home.”

Richie winks at him. “Knew you’d catch on. I saw you laugh on stage, though, you can’t fool me with your fake laughter.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

With a laugh, Richie slides into the booth and puts his arm around Eddie. They order more drinks, both buzzing with adrenaline from going up on stage, Richie even more than Eddie, clearly.

By the time they’re winding down, they’ve even done a couple of shots, and Eddie is well and truly wasted. He’s leaning into Richie and giggling at something he said when the announcer makes the last call for karaoke sign ups.

Richie suddenly shifts, alert, and Eddie has to try and hold his own weight so he doesn’t fall into Richie’s lap.

“What, what is it?” he asks.

“I have an idea,” Richie says urgently. “Do you trust me?”

Eddie smiles at him, and with absolute drunken sincerity, he says, “Of course.”

Richie pulls Eddie by the hand to the sign up, and puts their names in for a duet. They’re called up almost immediately, because the night is slowing down, and it’s only then that Eddie finds out the song they’re singing - “Total Eclipse of the Heart.”

Eddie gets pulled up onto the stage, and he and Richie both get mics, and they don’t even discuss their parts before the song starts - with Richie being the obvious natural performer, Eddie takes the backup on the verses, and Richie grins at him like that’s what he intended the whole time.

It’s almost too much to take, having Richie performing at him within arm’s length - especially since as Richie sings “And then I see the look in your eyes,” he turns to Eddie and caresses his cheek, gently. When the chorus comes along, Eddie takes the opportunity to sing with Richie, and to get as into the performance of it as he does. They’re both belting the words, gesturing dramatically, and Eddie starts taking chances to flirt with Richie, too. He reaches out to grab Richie’s shirt at “Holding on, forever,” and when they get to “I really need you tonight,” Eddie reaches over and uses his hand on Richie’s face to turn him, so they’re singing while looking into each other’s eyes on “Forever’s gonna start tonight, forever’s gonna start tonight.”

The whole song is both of them pulling sight gags based on the lyrics, with Richie doing dramatic turns toward or away from Eddie, and Eddie using the chorus to prove that he and Richie perform extremely well together - which surprises Eddie as much as anyone, frankly.

When the song is over, everyone that’s left in the bar starts clapping, and even the bartender give them a whistle. Richie takes a dramatic bow, and holds Eddie’s hand so Eddie goes down with him.

The bartender gives them both a free drink for the song, but once they’ve finished that, Eddie knows he’s reached his limit - and it’s getting pretty late anyways.

“C’mon, let’s go. Let’s take a cab back,” he says to Richie.

“You know, Eds, you had a lot more to drink that I thought you would. You should stay with me tonight.”

“Trying to take me home tonight, hmm Tozier?”

“Pretty funny how that turned out, isn’t it? Come on, Eds.”

Richie helps Eddie out of the bar and calls the cab - a little better off because he was drinking beer some of the time when Eddie was drinking liquor, even if he actually had more to drink than Eddie.

They get into the cab and Eddie leans against Richie all the way back to his hotel. They make it out and up to his room, and Eddie fully manages to walk on his own and not fall over or make an idiot of himself. Even though he’s very drunk, he knows himself enough to know he’s not  at risk of being sick - he will absolutely be hungover in the morning, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

When they are in Richie’s room, Eddie falls gratefully onto the bed before he considers the full implications of that.

“Are we gonna share the bed?” he asks.

“It’s big enough for two, right? Unless you wanna call the front desk at four AM.”

“Nope, nope, I’m good. This is good. Fine.”

He’s mumbling, really, into the pillows. He’s still fully dressed. Richie comes out of the bathroom in his pajamas, and his glasses, and Eddie sees him and just stares again.

“You wanna borrow some clothes?” Richie asks.

Eddie nods, and hauls himself up and to the bathroom. He changes into an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and they smell like Richie. They’re soft, too, the perfect pajamas to still be drunk in, and Eddie hums happily as he goes back out and falls into bed again, this time next to Richie.

“Tonight was amazing,” he says out loud, turning his head to look at Richie. “You were amazing. We were amazing.”

“Yeah, we were, Eds.” Richie reaches out and squeezes his hand, and Eddie squeezes back.

After a moment, he feels gentle hands on his face, removing his glasses to set them aside, and he smiles gratefully at Richie. “Thanks. And... thanks for.... this.” Eddie gestures his hand around, trying to illustrate what he means, but he feels like as drunk as he is it just sort of comes out as a very flamboyant wrist twirl. “I haven’t had this much fun in... years, Rich.” Eddie isn’t sure where the nickname came from - it just rolled off his tongue like an instinct or a muscle memory, but it makes Richie smile.

“I’m glad.”

Their voices are both soft, and it’s only shortly after that when Eddie drifts off into sleep, the way eased by the fact that he fortunately got drunk enough to be sleepy. He falls asleep still thinking of Richie’s smile, of his glasses and his eyes in the dim light of the room.

[winchesters-favorite-girl]

One Last Celebration

A/N: This is my entry for @jensen-jarpad‘s writing challenge. I tried to find exact dates in the series but the most I could find is that this could take place in May. So it’s set a few days before Sam’s birthday and we’re just gonna say Sam jumps into the cage not long after his birthday. We’re also just gonna say that at this point they made the plan for Sam to jump into the pit.

Word Count: 2560

Warnings: Angst, character death

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“Where we goin’ Mama?” You asked your mother, Amber, while swinging your feet up and down in the backseat of the car as you watched the road pass by out the window.

“We’re going to see your daddy.” She told you in a tone your three your old brain couldn’t process. She seemed sad but was using a happy tone with you.

“Daddy!” You shouted in an excited voice, your father worked a lot and you didn’t get the chance to see him often. He worked constantly with your uncle and was always driving around fighting the bad guys. There were only a few times a year when you got to see him; your birthday, father’s day, Christmas, and two or three weekends out of the year; so whenever you got to see him it was a big deal.

“I’m so excited to see Daddy, Mama!” You told her as you continued to swing your feet even faster as you grew more eager. “When we gonna get there?”

“We’ll be there in about an hour, we’re going to Mr. Bobby’s house. Daddy and Uncle Dean are there.” She said with a smile.

Fifty minutes later your mom pulled up to Singer’s Auto Salvage and you were bounding up and down your car seat. “Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad.” You repeated happily over and over as you waited for your mother to open the backseat door so you could get out.

As she opened the door you looked up to the house and saw your father walking out with a confused look on his face, “Daddy!” You shouted as you ran towards him with your arms open in a ‘pick me up’ motion.

Quickly complying, Sam knelt down and scooped you into his arms before standing back up, “What’re you doing here you little monkey?” He asked, placing a kiss to your hair.

“Mama said we’re here to visit you for the day!” You told him happily.

Sam shot a perplexed look at your mother but went along with it, “Hey kiddo.” Your uncle’s voice rang out from behind you and Sam.

“Uncle Dean!” You squealed, wiggling around in your father’s arms. Sam got the message and passed you off to Dean.

“You have a good drive with your mom?” He asked you as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Uh huh, I was super good and we saw lots of cows.” You informed him in a serious voice.

“Very good munchkin, told you she’d love the cows.” Dean said to your mom who let out a chuckle with his words.

“You knew they were coming?” Sam questioned as Dean transferred you back into your father’s arms.

Dean nodded his head, “Yeah, I called ‘em. I uh, told Amber what was goin’ on and we figured we should have Y/N come see ya before, everything goes down.”

“You not wanna see me Daddy?” You sadly asked.

Sam quickly shook his head, trying to hide the tears that were building in his eyes as he realized this was supposed to be his last goodbye with you. “No baby, I’m so, so happy that you’re here with me.”

“That’s good cause I missed you lots and lots.” You told him before giving him a hug, “I wished you could be with us all the time.”

Sam returned the hug; burying his face into the crook of your neck, “Me too little monkey.“

“So, what’re you two gonna do today?” Dean asked.

“I no know, whatcha wanna do Daddy?” You said, looking at your father.

Amber cut in with an idea, “Why don’t you two celebrate your daddy’s birthday?” She suggested as she pushed some of your hair out of your face, “I brought the presents we were gonna mail him. You two can have a daddy-daughter birthday celebration.”

“Oh Daddy, can we? Can we?” You begged, placing your hands on each side of his face for emphasis.

Sam chuckled and turned his head to place a kiss on your hand, “Course sweetheart. We can go to the movies, grab lunch at the diner, maybe go bowling.”

“And when you guys come home I’ll have dinner ready for you and Dean will go get a birthday cake so we can have cake and presents.” Your mom finished.

“Amber you don’t have to do that.” Sam told her with a shy smile.

Your mother shook her head, “I want to. You two go and have a great day, we’ll be here when you get back.” Giving her car keys to Sam, “She needs the car seat, take my car, it’ll make it easier then trying to put the seat in the impala.”

Sam gripped onto the keys, “Thank you.” He whispered, expressing his gratitude for more then just letting him borrow the car; for letting him see his daughter one last time.

“Thank you.” Amber replied as tears grew in her eyes, “Now go. I bet the movies will be having their first times soon if you wanna make it.”

“We gotta go Daddy!” You shouted in Sam’s ear, “I don’t wanna miss the movies!”

Sam tickled your sides in retaliation, “No need to shout little monkey, we’re going! See you guys later.”

“Bye Mama! Bye Unca Dean!” You waved goodbye to your mother and uncle.

“Have fun baby.” Amber waved back as Dean waved besides her.

“You know you could have gone with them.” Dean said as Sam buckled you into your car seat, “He wouldn’t have minded the family time.”

Your mother nodded her head but continued to watch Sam interact with you, “I know. I just want her to have some time alone with him, besides, the story of Amber and Sam was over before it began after you two saved me from that vampire. I just-he saved my life and he’s the father of my daughter, makes it very easy to be attached to him and after he’s-when he’s gone I can’t fall apart over him. I’ll need to be there for Y/N, just like I’m hoping you’ll be?”

Dean rubbed an imaginary spot on his hand while he mulled over Amber’s words, “Yeah,” He responded, his voice thick with emotion, “Course I’m gonna be there for the squirt. I just wasn’t sure how you were planning on spinning what’s gonna-what’s gonna happen to him.”

Amber wrapped her arms around herself while she spoke, “The truth, sorta.” Letting out a breath she took a shaky inhale, “I’m gonna tell her he died. That he died saving a lot of people. That he loved her and wishes he could be there for her to see her grow up; but I’m also gonna tell her it’ll all be okay. That I’m still here and so is her Uncle Dean.” Dean nodded his head in understanding as tears began to grow in his eyes thinking about what the future is gonna hold.

“She’s not gonna remember him.” Amber said as tears began to fall from her eyes, “She’s too young. She won’t remember how much he loved her. She won’t remember how much she adored him. She’s not gonna remember that her first word was ‘da’ or that her first steps were towards him. She won’t remember playing tag with him or how she always climbs on him. She won’t understand why he called her little monkey. She won’t even remember celebrating with him today. So we’re gonna have to remember for her. Cause one day she’s gonna come to us with questions and we gotta have answers. She deserves it, and so does he.”

You spent the entire day with your dad and loved every minute of it.

You went to the movies, ate lunch at a diner, played games at the arcade, and chased ducks at the pond. By the time Sam drove back to Bobby’s house you were passed out in your car seat. Sam carefully lifted you out of your seat and into his arms; you were quick to hide your face into his neck, shielding your eyes from the setting sun.

Dean opened the front door for Sam and quietly closed it behind him. When Sam entered the living room he was met with the site of Amber and Bobby sitting on the couch talking while a few presents sat on the coffee table in front of them.

“She been asleep for long?” Amber questioned.

“Just a little bit. She missed her nap so she could use the rest.” Sam explained.

Amber nodded her head in agreement, “You wore her out,” She chuckled, “Well, dinner’s ready. You can lay her down on the couch while we eat and I can heat it up for her later.”

Sam was quick to shake his head, “T’s okay, she’s comfortable here. I’ll just hold her while we eat.”

“She’s not a baby anymore Sam, it won’t be so easy to eat while holding her.” Amber explained gently but Sam just shook his head again.

“I’ll be fine.” He told her.

Amber decided to let it drop, figuring out that Sam wanted to keep you in his arms as long as possible. She served dinner which consisted of chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Together, her, Bobby, and Dean celebrated Sam’s final birthday while you slept peacefully in his arms.

It wasn’t until they were wrapping up dinner that you began to stir.

“Mmmm, Daddy?” You asked in a groggy voice as you rubbed your sleepy face in his neck and shoulder.

“Yeah baby?” Sam replied in a hushed tone.

“I’m hunrgy.” You said sleepily.

“You want some mashed potatoes sweetie?” Amber gently asked.

“Mmhmm.” You responded, nodding your head against Sam’s shoulder. “Can I still sit with Daddy?”

“Course you can baby.” Sam told you as he carefully maneuvered you so that you were sitting forward on his lap so you could eat. Amber placed a bowl of mashed potatoes in front of you which you quickly began to eat.

“You have fun with Daddy today sweetie?” Amber asked. You nodded in response as you continued to eat your food. “You still tired?” Again you nodded your head before placing another spoonful in your mouth.

“You can’t be tired kiddo!” Dean said with a smile, “We got cake to eat and you gotta help your dad open presents.”

You shook your head at your uncle which caused the adults to chuckle, “I just wanna cuddle Daddy and sleep.” You told them which quickly stilled the happy mood. Sam tightened his hold on you with your words.

“You feeling okay baby?” Your mom asked as she placed her hand on your forehead looking for a temperature.

“‘M fine.” You replied grumpily, “I just want my daddy.”

That’s how the rest of the evening went.

Everyone else ate cake while you sat on your father’s lap, taking the occasional bite of his cake when he offered it and you sat with him while he opened his presents.

It was a little after eight when your mom went to wash the dishes while Dean helped and Bobby went outside to work in the garage. As everyone else in the house was being productive Sam laid with you on his chest, his arms wrapped around you as you began to fall asleep once more.

“I love you so much little monkey.” Sam said as he watched your eyes begin to close.

“I love you too Daddy.” You responded sleepily, “All the way to the moooon…”

“And stars.” Sam completed while observing your face, memorizing every freckle.

Your eyes finally closed and breathing evened out, but Sam continued to hold you and watch you sleep. Over an hour later Amber and Dean came into the room.

“Sam,” Amber said softly, “We uh-we gotta go.” Sam looked over at them with quiet tears falling down his cheeks as they had for the last hour. Sam wordlessly nodded his head but made no indication he was going to move.

“Sammy, they gotta get going. We need them to get to the cabin and Rufus is outside waiting to drive with them.” Dean explained to his brother, hoping it’d snap him out of it. “We gotta get them there before we can go after Luci-”

Sam interrupted him, “Don’t talk about it with her in here, sleeping or not I don’t want her to hear this crap.”

Dean was silenced for a moment, “Okay Sammy, but they still gotta go.”

Nodding his head Sam finally broke his stare at you to look back at his big brother, “This isn’t fair.”

Dean pursed his lip, trying to hide the emotions he was feeling, “I know.”

Letting out a sigh, Sam pushed your hair behind your ear. Holding you comfortably he gripped you as he stood up. “I’ll bring her to the car.” He said before walking outside.

Amber grabbed her bag and quickly followed him out, wanting to get this over with. Dean went as well, unsure of how Sam was going to be after you left.

Sam was standing outside of the car with you on his hip, your face was in his neck and he could feel the steady exhale of your breath on his neck. Amber walked over to and opened up the backseat of her car.

Moving to put you in the car Sam stopped himself. He looked over at Amber who was barely holding it together and opened his arm for her; sharing in one last family hug.

Dean couldn’t stop the tear that fell as he watched Sam hold his family for the last time.

Giving Amber a squeeze, Sam placed a kiss on her head before releasing her. He then returned his complete attention on you. He placed his hand on your head as he placed a long kiss on your forehead, “I love you so much.”

Leaning down Sam gently put you in your car seat and buckled you up. He ran his finger on your cheek one more time before placing a soft kiss on your lip, “I love you baby.” Sam told you again as tears fell.

You groggily adjusted yourself in the seat, “Love you too Daddy.” You said, not fully waking up before you were passed out again.

Sam stared at you for another moment before standing up and quietly shutting the door. Taking a moment he let out a breath as he turned to face Dean and Amber.

“Take care of her.” Sam asked.

“I will. Promise.” Amber told him.

“Don’t let her forget me, please.” Sam begged as more tears fell.

“Never. She’ll know who you were Sam. She won’t know everything, but she’s gonna know you were a hero. She’s gonna know how much you loved her. How you were her whole world. I promise.” Amber said strongly.

Sam nodded his head before turning and walking back into the house.

It was for his daughter that he was doing this.

He was going to stop the apocalypse so that his daughter could grow up safely.

He would think of you as he took control of Lucifer and jumped into the cage.

He would remember how worth it the torture was as Lucifer and Michael carved into him.

He wouldn’t think about you when he was soulless.

You were the first person he went to see once he got his soul back.

You were all he needed to be whole again.

[nadiaofazeroth]

Expression: The End

Sometimes the least words say the most…

(The final tale about tranquil mornings and nights of terror…how everything can change in the blink of an eye…how the moments we share can either keep us grounded or let our sanity slip away.)

“Rise an’ shine, my honored guests!”

He snatched away a club from one of their guards and slammed it into a nearby gong. The brassy, ear-splitting ringing startled every single captive out of their uneasy slumbers as they struggled to come to in the confines of their cages. Mandokir tossed the weapon onto the ground as he surveyed the area atop the ziggurat.

“Line ‘em up!” 

The guards swarmed like ants towards the cages, unlocking the doors and dragging the captives to their feet. Any who showed even the slightest sign of protest were promptly kicked into submission before being slung into place beside their friends. The Horde was on one side and the Alliance on the other...and again, Nadia was at one end making a bridge between both sides. 

The Gurubashi seemed to be a fan of irony...

Also ironic, or rather a relief, was that Anduin was at the end near Nadia and had been stood next to her by chance. When Mandokir or a guard wasn’t looking they would try to whisper to one another. 

“Are you okay?” The mage asked, carefully trying to adjust her clothes to hide more of her middle from the gazes of everyone around her. 

“I am fine,” he muttered, his tone sounding anything but that, “and you?”

“I...think so.” Nadia reached behind her back and pulled tighter at the sash around her stomach; she’d convinced Anduin to give her his while they were still being transported to the city. He’d been against the idea of tying it around her midsection from the start, since such constriction could harm the child, but it was impossible to deny that anyone finding out now would be much worse.

Once the mage was sure it was tight enough, she let her arms drop at her sides, limp and downtrodden. This concealment wouldn’t work for much longer; both a blessing and a curse, it felt like her child was growing every day. 

Nadia caught one of the young Night Elves staring at her quizzically while she tried to avoid Mandokir’s predatory gaze by looking elsewhere. She couldn’t remember her name right now but knew she had been a new and eager ambassador, ready to learn from the mentor that had brought her and see the world beyond her small druid circle in Teldrassil. A pang of guilt struck the mage in the chest; how she wished she could turn back the clock and send everyone home. 

The younger ambassador continued to stare, and it was beginning to make Nadia uncomfortable the longer those wide, glowing eyes stayed fixed on her. She saw the young elf elbow the other ambassador and then mutter something to them, and before Nadia knew it both Night Elves were staring at her with a mix of fascination and horror.

What-?

Any thoughts she might’ve had were cut short when she was suddenly grabbed by the hair. Nadia couldn’t stop the gasp of pain that escaped her lips and instinctively reached up to fend off the hand. Her head was forced up towards Mandokir as he smirked and tightened his grip.

“Did I say dat you could stop lookin’ at me?” His tone was both teasing and dangerous, full of insane glee from the control he had over all those around him, “Hm? Did I give ya permission ta look elsewhere?”

Nadia said nothing and kept her eyes down, preferring to stare at her feet than into his mad gaze. This seemed to be the most appropriate response, as the troll lost interest in her soon and immediately went to his next insane action.

“I be hearin’ a rumor,” he released the mage’s hair with a flair of his wrist and turned around to stalk in between the lined up ambassadors, “a terrible rumor...dat ya people be plannin’ ta team up and batter down ma walls and storm dis city.”

Many ambassadors from both sides stiffened and took in sharp breaths when Mandokir suddenly grabbed Anduin by the face and dragged him forward.

“Watcha think, Princey? Dey be true?” With a snarl of disgust, he let go of the young man and continued his march, “Now, I can’t be havin’ dat. I only just got ya here! But wait, dere must be a way ta stop ‘em. It would be rude o’ me, as ya host, ta just let ya leave!”

Many of those in his entourage chuckled darkly, snarling and jeering at their captives as who stood there waiting for Mandokir’s next move with anxious expressions. 

“So, I got ta thinkin’...what be a bettah way ta spoil ya leader’s teamwork den ta throw a wrench inta dere well oiled machine, eh?”

Before anyone had a chance to blink, he whipped around and drew out a dagger, pressing it to the Thunderbluff representative’s jugular. For all that was happening, Nadia had to give the ambassador credit and respect for not flinching when the cold blade touched his skin; had Mandokir not stopped the motion, the Tauren would have had his throat split. He knew that too, and still had not moved.

“Perhaps I be killin’ some o’ ya,” the blade was pulled back in favor of Mandokir lazily tossing it from hand to hand as he made his way back down between the lined up prisoners, “just ta send em inta a frizzy, one by one...or mabeh I’ll cut off a limb or ear from each o’ ya and send dem to ‘em in a pretteh package.”

His gaze fell on Nadia once more, that twisted, maniacal grin spreading across his eyes razed over her form. She kept her head down, refusing to both meet his stare or look away, even thought the feeling of his sight on her made her skin crawl like nothing else.

“What do I want, what do I want...” With every step he took, his feet brought him closer to Nadia. No one moved, no one dared to speak as Mandokir stalked nearer and nearer to the mage. He was like a predator encroaching on his prey, and all those who stood by held their breath, begging whatever god they had that he would not pounce.

The troll stopped only when he stood toe to toe with the mage. If she were to look up, her nose would have almost touched his with how close he had brought her face to hers. Nadia had to stop herself from flinching when Mandokir slowly brought up his hand to her long hair and ran his fingers through it, then pressed his nose to the top of her head and breathed in deeply.

“I know exactly what I be wantin’.”

His slimy grin turned into a snarl, and he yet again grasped and pulled her hair hard; this time, Nadia did flinch as his sharp claws dug painfully into her scalp. Had she a mirror, the mage would surely find many bruises underneath her dark locks.

“Since I know ya factions be fans o’ rumor and gossip, I’m gonna be sharin’ one with ya.” 

Mandokir released Nadia’s hair as he moved to stand behind her, sheathing his dagger before placing both hands firmly on her shoulders. The grin came back as he scanned over the terrified and confused faces of his captives.

“You gonna be likin’ dis...it seems dat ya sweet, sweet Archmage here ‘as been fucking da Warchief of da Horde!”

There was a beat of silence, then all of Mandokir’s guards and henchmen burst into laughter and jeering, hollering out to Nadia with all sorts of catcalls and taunts. In sharp contrast, none of the ambassadors made a sound, but the looks of shock on their faces as they all finally looked up and stared at the mage made so much more volume.

“It be true! An’ guess what else,” he cackled, “it ain’t cause o’ ya damned treaty, ah no...dey be lovers!”

The howling cackles and heckles got louder at this statement, but all Nadia could hear was the overwhelming silence of the other ambassadors as they gawked at her. She could see Anduin looking her with sympathy, though that only seemed to make her feel worse.

“It ain’t fair, is it? Why be it da Warchief dat gets such a lovely plaything?!”

At the word ‘lovely’, Mandokir shoved Nadia roughly. She stumbled forward, keeping her head down in humiliation while trying to regain her balance. The troll got a bloodthirsty glint in his eye as the dagger at his hip slowly became unsheathed.

“I got two choices: gut an’ hang ya outside da city from a tree like bait for ol’ Vol’jin...or have a taste of da forbidden fruit dat’s got him hooked.”

The mage went rigid with horror and disgust, and edged farther away as Mandokir got closer and closer, fear coursing through her veins when he reached towards the buckle of his belt with his free hand - 

“No! Don’t! She is - “

The older Night Elf smacked his hand over the mouth of his young mentee, cutting off her sentence just as Mandokir whipped around to glower at them.

“She be what, Elf?”

Silence.

Mandokir snarled and shouldered the mage out of the way to approach the pair. The younger closed her eyes while the other held their head up defiantly and moved just enough to stand in front. Before he could drive his dagger into their bodies or worse, the troll froze. Everyone could see the gears in his deranged mind turning as he mulled over those words. His brow rose, and he whipped back around to stare straight at Nadia.

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me...”

A panicking Nadia didn’t have enough time to react when Mandokir dashed towards her, grasping at her and tearing away the sash tied around her stomach. The mage tried to fight away his hands, tried to delay the inevitable, but it was too late.

He knew.

Once the sash, now a tattered and torn remnant of what it had been, fell to the ground at his feet, Mandokir pressed his fingers aggressively into her lower belly and sides, feeling for something that could not be seen by the others who had yet to notice this horrible realization.

His hands poked and prodded at her stomach, but it was the terrible and cruel toothy smile which spread like fungus across his face that made her shudder when they felt the firmness just below her belly button.

“Ohh, ho ho ho!” The troll had to let go and brace his hands on his knees to keep from falling over when suddenly bursting into a fit of cackles, “Dis is just too good!”

He turned towards his men and stood upright, spreading his arms wide as if to bask in his discovery under the rising sun.

“It seems dat da Warchief done went and knocked her up!”

All the ambassadors had looks of horror on their faces while the guards’s roared and howled with their taunts, piercing the morning with sounds that should have been reserved for arenas and their duels. 

It felt as though hours had passed before all the trolls finally stopped laughing. Mandokir sighed dreamily, as if all his disturbed wishes had suddenly come true, and pointed at Nadia, who had gone back to looking at her feet with her arms wrapped limply around herself. 

“Just when I be thinkin’ ju can’t surprise me,” he wrapped his hand around her throat, forcing her head up as she gasped for breath and clawed at his grip, “ya go an’ do somethin’ else!”

He threw her to the ground then, discarding her at the feet of the other captives as though she were nothing more than a piece of garbage. Many who stood above her turned away, not wanting to behold this abuse. Those who still looked did so with pity, wishing that Nadia would no longer be singled out and harassed but knowing there was nothing they could do about it.

Only two dared to bend down to help her up. Anduin didn’t think twice when he knelt to check her over. The mage had fallen into a coughing fit after having her airway cut off and released in the span of a few seconds, and the Gurubashi were too preoccupied with their jest and jeers to notice the prince’s glowing hands gently hover over her form. 

Anduin saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The Darkspear representative hesitantly shuffled forward and knelt down beside them; the expression on his face was almost impossible to read as he placed a tentative hand on the mage’s back, trying to help her sit up.

“Back off da merchandise!”

Both Anduin and the Darkspear were wrangled away from Nadia by the guards at Mandokir’s orders, while the maniac himself yanked the mage to her feet with a rough pull of her arm.

“Dis be precious cargo here,” the dagger was back out now and pointed at the mage’s belly, “it be a shame if somethin’ be happenin’ to ‘em both.”

All hell seemed to break lose. Nadia fought against the troll’s hold, which only made him press the sharp tip of the blade onto her belly. She froze instantly, but all the others went into uproar at the gesture. Those who weren’t already being restrained were now after they tried to intervene, and those who were scuffled against their captors. A line had been crossed.

“No!” The young druid from before shouted and tried to move around the soldiers that were now herding the rest of the prisoners away from Mandokir and Nadia, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, can’t I?”

The dagger clattered to the ground as Mandokir let it drop from his grasp. With his now free hand, he grabbed the mage by the hair and pulled her into him by the arm, smashing his mouth over hers in a cruel and underhanded kiss. Nadia’s struggling made no difference; the sounds of protest she made were smothered by the other troll’s mouth, and she could feel her arm beginning to bruise in his grip. 

Finally, finally, he let her go, releasing her with a please snarl. “I think I be seein’ why da Warchief kept ya around,” he cackled as she wiped furiously at her mouth with a shaking hand, “but now...I be da one with da prize.”

Nadia had no time to react when the blows struck her face, and she hit the ground hard after the second one’s force. 

She was barely aware of the pain on her lip and cheek; her head smacked onto the stone floor so hard that it scrambled all her thoughts like eggs. 

Everyone stopped moving, even the guards. No one had been prepared for the two slaps that landed on the mage’s face, once in succession to the other. Mandokir’s hand was still raised in the air from the last blow, and the harsh morning sun was no match for his sadistic scowl. With a low growl, the troll took a few steps forward and pressed his foot onto the dazed woman’s head, grinding her even more into the hard stone.

“I can do anythin’ I want.” Both his hands curled into tight fists as he turned to address the captives, “An’ why not? I be holdin all da cards.”

He took his foot off her head in exchange for kneeling down beside the woman who groaned weakly and was likely concussed from all the blows and falls. The last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness  sent a foreboding chill down her spine.

“I think I be knowing exactly how ta break ya factions’ machine...”

......

......

Her touch was everywhere...

Gliding through his hair...

Massaging his shoulders...

Raking over his back and chest and stomach...

The kisses were soft and deep, pulling and tugging and tasting her tongue and lips...

Neither one said a word. There was no reason to.

Words couldn’t describe this...

She slipped away from him, laughing and smiling as she spun away and hid behind a pillar.

Where were they? Did it matter, did he care?

He felt himself grin and chase after her, unwittingly beginning a game of keep away. Seek her out, steal a kiss, skip away to hide again...

It went on like that for gods knew how long. He found himself craving the brief glimpses of her lithe fingers and wrist when she beckoned him closer, her dark hair floating through the air with every twirl and spin, the folds of her skirt and bare feet when she danced just out of his reach...

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled before ducking behind a ruin wall, and he followed, exhilarated and eager and made hungry by the chase...

When he emerged on the other side, however, his surroundings changed completely.

He was inside a temple, the walls etched with accents and images that had stood the test of time and won, their colors and lines still strong as dripping water and moss clung to them for dear life. Echoes of battle rung hollow throughout the passageway, the sound and impact of cannon fire making the ground quake.

His feet brought him further and further down the hall, the feeling of bliss and calm from before now completely gone. Nadia was nowhere to be found...but a door at the very end of the way seemed to be summoning him. The closer he got, the more the torches lining the hall flickered and the more the walls began to crack and crumble. 

By the time he had his hand on the door, everything around him was falling apart, the crevices in the wall and floor revealing inky darkness in the spaces. An inexplicable ache had settled in his gut and his blood ran cold, yet his body pushed open the door against his will.

On the other side stood Mandokir holding a blade to Nadia’s throat with a crazed smile on his face.

With nothing more than a hum, the Bloodlord slit the woman’s throat, taking sick joy in the horrified look that was surely on his face while dark red blood cascaded down Nadia’s neck. Her limp, lifeless body sank to the floor when Mandokir let it go. The pleading, desperate, betrayed expression on her face was the only thing staring back at him as he fell to his knees.

Mandokir smirked as he pointed the bloodied blade at the Warchief, Nadia’s lifeline dripping from the tip onto the cold stone ground.

“Failed again, Vol’jin...”

---

The Warchief jolted upright out of his sleep, gasping for breath while clutching frantically at his chest. He’d broken out into a cold sweat at some point during the nightmare, and it made him feel sticky and grimy in the already humid night air. 

Somehow through his hazy mind, the troll became aware of the churning ache in the recesses of his gut. It seems the ill feeling in his dream had been more real than imagined...

Failed.

That word, that horrible word, repeated itself in his mind over and over again.

Failed...

Failure...

A deep, drawn out growl from his stomach was the only warning he got before his insides constricted suddenly. The next thing Vol’jin knew, he was scrambling from his sleeping mat with one hand pressed over his mouth and the other prying around desperately in the dark. 

He finally grasped onto something cylindrical. Without a single moment to think about what it was in the darkened tent, the shadow hunter retched violently into it, his poor stomach not relenting until it was completely empty.

Disoriented and trembling, the Warchief groaned and pushed away whatever it was he had just been sick in as far away as he could and stood. His eyes had now adjusted to the dark, enough for him to find his water skin; with shaking hands, Vol’jin took off the cork and gulped it down, letting the cool, tasteless liquid soothe his dry throat and clean out the taste of bile in his mouth.

This was becoming unbearable...

Tossing the now empty skin onto the ground, he sighed and slumped into the nearby chair, thumbing the necklace that was still around his wrist and glowering at the table. The surface of the it had become littered with crumpled up notes and papers, letters from other faction leaders that they were either sending over more reinforcements or on the way themselves. 

Lorthemar had already arrived the morning after they’d found Nadia’s necklace; the Blood Elven ambassador happened to be a family friend, so he had a personal stake, like him (even if no one knew it). Baine would be arriving soon as well; he had a sneaking suspicion that Rokhan had something to do with that.

He glanced at the map. The words “ZUL’GURUB” stared up at him, menacing and foreboding with their eight letters. His stomach began to churn again. Did he drink to fast? Or, was it because he knew somewhere deep down that the temple in his dream had been there? Either way, he felt terrible.

He blamed Rokhan for this...

Well, not really, though his poor friend had been taking the brunt of his foul mood lately. He would have to apologize to him once all this was over.

But he had been the one to give Vol’jin a sleeping draught; who knows where he got it. Rokhan had obviously meant well, seeing that his Warchief had either been sleeping poorly or not at all. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done the job. He’d fallen asleep, yes, but the draught seemed to have upset his stomach while he slept, which in turn caused the bad dream. 

At least...that’s what Vol’jin convinced himself was the cause of his nightmare and knotted up insides...

“Warchief!”

A sudden shout from outside grabbed his attention, and Vol’jin stood as the other shadow hunter himself burst through the flap of his tent. 

“Ya gonna want ta see this,” Rokhan moved out of the way as his Chief stepped out into the night. 

It was probably well past midnight; people should have been asleep, the camp should have been quiet. But no, Vol’jin could hear some sort of commotion even from the Horde’s unofficial side of the camp. It got louder the closer he got as Rokhan led him to the front of the camp, and more people crowded about and were approaching as well.

They weren’t a problem; many moved out of the way for the Warchief, even if they weren’t his own people. It still took him a while to reach the front, though, and what he saw when he finally got there sent a chill up his spine.

It was one of the Darnassian ambassadors.

The young woman had to be held up by some of the guards, her head lolling around as some healers tried to look her over. Leaves and twigs clung to the Night Elf’s tattered clothes and stuck out of her, and multiple scratches etched across any area of bare skin.

But the most curious thing out of all was the collar around her neck with a scroll attached to it. As though she were some messenger animal...

“Da sentries saw her stumblin’ towards camp through da jungle,” Rokhan watched as that little red headed worgen from before removed the thing around the ambassador’s neck, “Dey be thinkin’ she escaped or got left behind.”

 “Nah,” Vol’jin watched with intrigue as the human unfurled the scroll, her eyes darting back and forth quickly as she read whatever contents were inside, “dey let ‘er go...”

Before Rokhan could ask why, there was suddenly another commotion. King Wrynn had snatched the scroll away from the worgen girl, and the two were now arguing with each other. 

“I told you already, there’s nothing!”

“Don’t lie to me anymore than you already have!” Varian turned his angry scowl onto Vol’jin when the troll approached, “You! Explain yourself!”

“’Scuse me?” The shadow hunter felt harsh annoyance begin to rear its head in his chest at the rude address. 

Varian pointed the scroll at him accusingly, “This note was addressed specifically to you. The Bloodlord says that he will make you a deal: he’ll give us everyone else back in exchange for Lady Ravenscroft...the Warchief’s family.”

A large crowd had gathered by this point, and their whispers and gasping thrummed throughout the camp. Vol’jin felt his heart stop.

“I would never abandon the good Lady...But If there is anything...anything...you are withholding that would risk the safety of my son...then you best tell us now or I will make you pay.”

The silence was deafening.

Despite his outward composure, he couldn’t breathe...

Mandokir knew. He knew, and they were in harms way. His family. 

Failed again...

He wanted to scream. His blood boiled at Varian’s threat, the ignorant assumption that he was risking nothing. He felt anger at being called out...incomparable fear for Nadia and their child...sickening guilt for selfishly keeping so many secrets for the sake of keeping face...

“I...” The words he tried to say got caught in his throat as other ones tried to blurt out: an enraged confrontation at Wrynn over the accusation of hiding something and a confession of his relationship to Nadia all tried to come up like vomit in place of political talk.

...He couldn’t take it anymore. For weeks, no, months he had been hiding something so important from everyone. Secrecy had added a certain something to their relationship, but now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Vol’jin had a decision to make: keep his secrets or let the whole world know? And the whole world, quite literally, would know.

The best answer...the most obvious answer...the answer that would keep Nadia and their child safe....was really the only answer.

No more hiding. No more failure.

“Lady Ravenscroft...be pregnant,” he admitted slowly, keeping his gaze level with Varian Wrynn, “It’s mine.”

Vol’jin did not stay to watch the King’s reaction, nor did he look at anyone else as he turned and walked away. It would be too much, combined with all the gasps and whispering already starting up, to remain and be the subject of everyone’s shock and contempt and pity. He was vaguely aware that Rokhan tried to say something to him, but he didn’t hear and kept going. 

The shadow hunter didn’t stop until he was back in the confines of his tent. He stood there for a moment longer, not quite knowing what to do with himself now. 

Well, it was out there. Everyone knew.

Surprisingly...he didn’t feel upset about that fact. Of course, he hadn’t stuck around to see how everyone had responded. But it felt good, so good, to have that off his chest.

No more hiding.

Vol’jin remembered that Mandokir now knew about Nadia’s pregnancy, and for a moment he felt sick to his stomach again. He took a deep breath to resolve himself, moving back towards the map on the table. Some grunts must have lit the candles and brazier inside his tent while he was gone, the whole space now illuminated with warm light. 

Picking up a dagger, so like the one in his dream, the troll loomed over the table and carved out an ‘X’ around the words ‘ZUL’GURUB’. 

Enough games, Mandokir, he thought, tossing the blade onto the table once he was finished. His hand toyed with the necklace around his wrist again, silently playing to the Loa to let this go in his favor.

He was coming for his family.

No more failure.

AHHHHHHHH, hahahahha!!! I finished!! I’m dead, but I finished EXPRESSION!!!!

FIVE PARTS!!

OVER 14,000 WORDS!! 

DAMN, ME!!

Tagging @airanke @druidickats and @pierrotslust since I know they’ve been patiently waiting!!

And all readers, if you have a moment, please give me feedback! This is my first full piece on tumblr and I’m so proud!!

I wonder what will be next!! :D