jim starts to recline his seat


I’ve written another part to this. The Host accidentally comes out to the other egos. Sorry if it sucks, because I wrote it during school when I was half asleep.


Dr. Iplier and the Host had been together for a few months, and no one knew. Well, except for Dark, but only because he figured it out himself.

They were sitting in the living room with the other egos, except for the King, who was outside. The Jim twins were sitting in front of the TV, playing a video game. The Google’s were sitting on the couch, Green and Wilford showing each other memes. Dark was in the recliner, reading a book. Ed Edgar was typing away at the computer, most likely losing another auction. Bim Trimmer was pounding his phone with his thumbs, probably annoying Matthias. Dr. Iplier and Host were sat next to each other on the love seat. They were touching, but not enough to raise suspicion…until Host started narrating, that is.

“Dr. Iplier was staring at the Host, lust in his eyes. His eyed then widened and he mouthed ‘stop’ to the Host. The Host gave him a look of confusion as Iplier tried to push the dirty thoughts about the Host out of his head. Iplier looked wide-eyed around the room. The others had stopped what they were doing. Even the King was looking in through the window. The blush was obvi-”

The Host slapped his hand over his mouth. The raising of his eyebrows under the bandages was visible, which meant that his eyes would’ve been widened. Dr. Iplier leaned forward and rung his hands together. “Host and I…we have…a thing. We’re…a thing.” Wilford was the first one to say anything. He smirked at Host and said, “We can see that,” which got him an almost crushed foot from Blue stomping on it, and a dark glare from Dark. “What he means,” Blue started. “is that we know.” Yellow finished. “Not trying to be rude, but we can tell. It’s obvious.” The Jim’s said in unison. “I have a fantastic gaydar, so I knew the moment I saw you two in a room together.” Bim Trimmer added, dramatic hand movements included. “Basically, what we’re saying is that it’s okay. We fully respect and support both of you. I’m still making jokes, though. It’s how I show my love.” Wilford said, walking toward the two. He then ruffled their hair and walked out of the room, his hands drumming on the walls. The King gave them a thumbs-up from outside. Ed came up behind them and put them in choke holds. “Y'all are actually pretty adorable together.” He let them go, then resumed his business on the computer. Iplier got off of the love seat, then took Host by the hand and led him out of the room, Green yelling, “I ship it” behind them.

Dr. Iplier led Host through the hallways that eventually ended in the door to his office. Iplier slammed the office door, locked it, then had Host up against the wall. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t exactly c-control it sometimes.” Host stuttered. Iplier gently grabbed Host by the chin and ran his thumb over Host’s soft lips. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby.” Iplier whispered, mesmerized by the texture of Host’s lips. “But-” Host was interrupted by Iplier grabbing the sides of his head and crashing their lips together.

They enjoyed the blissful moment after the stressful situation in the living room, bit little did they know, the other egos enjoyed it, too. Before they got in there, Wilford had snuck in and planted a camera.

anonymous asked:

Sober, Fire, Cuddles

He finds Kate in the living room, tending to the fire casting flickers of light across her skin, bathing her in gold. She’s encased in a thick flannel blanket, holding the fabric together around her shoulders with the latch of her fingers, cocooning herself in the red and green once she returns to the couch, failing to notice him until she’s curling her knees to her chest. 

The fire illuminates the ripple of soft delight in her eyes at the sight of him and Castle accepts the invitation she offers with the tilt of her head, the outstretch of her arm.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he inquires, settling down beside his wife, humming with gratitude when she extends one side of the blanket to him, allows him to bundle them both in the warmth. 

Kate shakes her head, but shifts further into him, those bent knees fitting against the cage of his ribs, her head falling to rest at his shoulder while her fingers fist in the thermal fabric covering his chest. 


“Not without you in the bed,” he mumbles, feeling her lips twitch against his throat, uncertain if she wears a smile or a frown. “What are you thinking?”

“I know it’s not Christmas yet and I’m glad we’re here, spending time with my dad,” she begins, her fingers fanning out over his sternum, palm at his heart. “It’s just been awhile since I was here during the holidays.”

Castle squeezes her shoulder beneath the blanket, cuddles her closer. Jim had invited them to stay at the cabin earlier in the week, offering the place to them as a winter hideaway for the weekend, a nice getaway from the city that Rick had been rather excited for. After the last few months, some quality time with his wife, without any watchful eyes on them, had sounded heavenly.

But the snow had grown heavy during their drive to her father’s cabin, dusting along the roads, sheathing them in ice. They had arrived safely, but no one was going anywhere for a couple of days, including her dad.

Castle hadn’t minded, of course. He liked Jim Beckett, admired the man, and it had been pleasant to watch Kate with her dad, to take note of the similarities between father and daughter and listen to cherished Beckett family memories being told. Even if they always ended on a somber note.

“But I’m relieved that Dad is handling it well, that he seems to be enjoying the company. Usually, when he comes here, it’s to seclude himself from the holidays, the memories-”

“He’s enjoyed the last couple of Christmases that he spent with us, though, didn’t he?” Castle asks, sifting through their most recent Christmas that Jim had attended, remembering a smile on the man’s face, a little strained but still genuine.

“He has,” she assures him, tilting her head upwards to smear a kiss to his jaw. “Christmas with you has been good, for both of us. But I think for my dad, this holiday will always be…”

“A struggle,” Castle supplies, feeling the nod of her head against his shoulder. 

“It’s better now, so much better than before, when he was - when he wasn’t sober,” she confesses, her voice quiet, steady yet fragile. Christmas often coaxed the memories out of her, some she had already shared with him, others that were stories he had yet to hear. Not all of her Christmas memories were pleasant, not the ones that didn’t include her mother, the years that followed her death. “Better since we finally started spending Christmases together again.”

“You two having a pow-wow out here?” 

Castle cranes his neck to see her father shuffling down the hall, a tired smile on his lips and his robe wrapped snugly around his body. The power had gone out earlier in the night, before they had all retreated to their rooms, and spending the remainder of it camped out in front the fire in her dad’s living room was sounding more appealing the more he thought about it.

“Care to join us?” Rick offers, watching the laughter flicker in Jim’s gaze as he nods, the tenderness twining with amusement when his eyes linger on the two of them.

“Sure, but I’m going to make some hot chocolate first. Do you both want some?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you-”

“No, stay put.” Jim waves him off and starts for the kitchen, sparing a glance at Kate nestled in against him, still awake but steadily growing slack against his side. “It’ll just take a second.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she calls out, her lashes fluttering against Castle’s neck. 

Rick strokes his fingers through her hair, listens to her breathing even out before Jim can return with only two mugs of hot chocolate. 

“Figured she wouldn’t stay awake,” he chuckles, handing Rick a cup and taking a seat in the recliner. “She used to do this when she was a kid, you know. Sneak out of her room when the power was out, drag her bedding out here and hunker down in front of the fire.”

Castle brushes his thumb back and forth along the curve of his wife’s shoulder and sips at his hot chocolate, listens to her father tell him stories about Kate’s childhood, about their family, their happiness. The longing is still there, the grief, but she was right. Christmas was still a few days away, but no longer did Jim Beckett appear to be the ragged ghost of a man Kate had described. He looked happy, content, at peace with the holiday and the memories it dredged up. Just like she did.