#god ill see u in. five hours

[nomeniko]

hot spring….

OUGHHH WHATTHEFUCJ

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[w2soneshots]

Guernsey -W2S

words: 0.8k+

warnings: none.

summary: you meet Harry’s parents for the first time.

notes: I finally wrote something I like and it wasn’t a request🫢. I hope you enjoy lovelys🫶🏼.

Liked by wroetoshaw and 501,348 others

y/username: umm hey😉

Tagged: @faithloisak @eatsides

-comments-

faithloisak: beautiful beautiful girl

-> y/username: 💋💋

y/nfanpage21: the last pic!!🤭

eatsides: supportive queen🍗❤️

user15327094: OMFG IS THAT W2S??

user89130243: herb what r u doin here

Me and Harry have been together for almost five months now. We met through instagram, he followed me, liked my posts, then finally sent me a message. Since then we've been inseparable, texting every day and it feels like I practically live in his apartment since he doesn't want me to leave, saying “no… don’t go, just one more night?” Along with his best puppy dog eyes. I get along great with Harry's friends, especially Tobi since he was so welcoming. After meeting Faith at Tobi's birthday party we became quite close and have had many great conversations. I feel as though I can always go to her if I need someone to speak to or if I just need some advice.

Today Harry's talking me to Guernsey to meet his family for the first time. We woke up early and threw on a comfy outfit then headed to the airport. When we arrived we went through security and waited around for a little while before actually getting onto the plane. After just over an hour we were landing in Guernsey.

y/username just posted a new story!

"Oh my god, this place is fucking beautiful." I stared out the plane window in awe of the island. Harry chuckled at my giddiness. I'm so excited to meet his family, unfortunately Rosie is at uni and Josh is on holiday so ill have to wait a little longer to meet them but ill get to see his parents. He's met mine multiple times but our schedules have never been clear enough to spend a weekend here, so when we got the chance we immediately booked the flights.

Once we'd collected our bags and were making our way out of the airport we spotted Harry's dad stood leaning against his car. I took a deep breath. "You have nothing to worry about. They're gonna love you." Harry whispered into my ear. I looked up at him "ok let's go."

"Hello, nice to finally meet you. I'm Harry's dad but you can call me Adrian." He spoke in a very cheery voice. My nerves instantly calmed. "Hi, I'm y/n." I introduced myself. "Yes I know. Harry don't stop talking about you." He chuckled. I looked over to Harry, his face was bright red and he'd gotten all embarrassed. "Does he now?" I teased him. Adrian laughed once again "well we better get going, Sue is desperate to meet you."

When we arrived outside of Harry's home my jaw dropped, it's practically a mansion. We hopped out of the car, Adrian and Harry grabbed our bags and I headed inside to introduce myself to his mum. Harry told me that the door was unlocked so I pressed down the handle and pushed it open. I was immediately bombarded by Herb, who seemed very excited to see me. I'd spent quite a lot of time with the dog since Harry had brought him with him back to London a few times.

"Hello! Come on in." Harry's mum Sue pulled me into a hug. I smiled "It's so nice to meet you." She walked me through into the kitchen "Are you hungry? I just made lunch." My eyes lit up "I'm starving and that smells amazing!" She smiled "great." Harry burst into the room seconds later and came to stand next to me. "You hungry Harry?" His mum asked. Harry nodded. "Alright, food will be ready in ten. Why don't you to go and get settled in." Harry gave me a quick toor of the house then showed me to his room. "See I told you they'd love you."

After lunch Harry wanted to take me on a walk to show me one of his favourite places on the island. So we put on our coats and shoes then he put a harness on Herb. "Come on let's go, Herbert!" Harry shouted and seconds later Herb came running towards us. I opened the door. "So where are we going?" I asked as we walked down the street. "My favourite beach." He replied.

"Wow, I can't believe you grew up somewhere like this." I admired the waves as Herb played in the sand. "I didn't appreciate it enough when I lived here, but now that I don't come here as often I realised how much I miss it," Harry said without breaking eye contact with the view. I placed my head on his shoulder and let out a breath. "I love you." "I love you too Haz."

y/username

Liked by faithloisak and 702,539 others

y/username: weekend in paradise💗

Tagged: @wroetoshaw

-comments-

taliamar: pink is your colour🌸

-> y/username: 🤗

wroetoshaw: ❤️🐶

y/nfanpage21: omg there so cute together!

user80163294: she actually posted harry🙊

user28945110: she met the fam they're definitely serious

[hiemaldesirae]

Okay, so everyone is all cursed cat Alastor *hates* Vox...but what if It absolutely ADORES Vox? What if it's just like Alastor's Shadow, and it holds ALL of the emotions Alastor won't show? So it's ALL over Vox? Vox can't get a moment alone, cursed cat!Alastor is ALWAYS with him. Following him, loving on him. Only allows Vox to pet him...attacks regular Alastor when he attacks Vox, actually *defeating him.* (Alastor hates that Cat. And is ridiculously jealous.)

oh i endorse this 100%. i wrote a little snippet for it even LMFAO

it gets a tad long so ill leave it under the cut. it is mostly word vomit but . you know.. hopefully u guys enjoy :)

"We should really consider just putting the poor thing out of its misery," Alastor shoots a glare at the curled up lump on the carpet, its foaming mouth bound with rope, even as it chews furiously at its restraints. "Why, if we didn't, we would be violating our own 'no pets' policy!"

"Alastor..." Charlie frowns at her hotelier, before chancing a hesitant glance back at the creature. "Look, no one's perfect, right? Can't we try giving the cat a chance, at least?"

The other residents in the room- Angel, Husk, Vaggie, and even Lucifer himself- all give her blank eyed stares, Angel and Husk in particular rolling up their sleeves to show off the long, deep gouges in their arms.

"Charlie, honey, I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should just let Alastor get rid of it," Vaggie grimaces. "I know you love animals and all, but that- *thing* isn't safe to be around."

"What? Come on, it's sweet!" Charlie turns around, her back to the creature as she motions to it, completely unawares of the furry animal finally chewing through the final bit of rope as it lunges for her, much to the horror of the other hotel inhabitants.

An hour later, Alastor finds himself and his shadow traversing the streets of Pentagram City with the creature held securely in his shadow's grip. "Hmm... so, then, where should we dispose of this little pest? Ah, I have an idea."

He snaps his fingers and in a moment, reappears in a cloud of black, smokey shadow- right in front of the Vee's tower. With a swift motion to his shadow attendant, his doppelganger releases the cat-like creature from its claws, the feral little creature immediately charging the doors of the tower once it's let free. Alastor barely manages to hold back a snort before he once more steps back into the shadows- tomorrow, he'd check back again and see how it was going for Vox. With any luck, the results would be entertaining.

Vox gets the notification in the middle of a meeting. It takes merely the wave of his hand to dismiss the investors and step out, rolling his eyes as he prepares to deal with Val or Vel's shit again for the twentieth time today.

"What is it now...?" He frowns down at his phone, before noticing his assistant's contact on the phone. "Dei? What is it? Did something happen to Lis?"

"Uh, no, it's not anything like that, Sir," the aquatic sinner responds nervously. "Though, um... well, we have a little bit of an emergency, kind of. Not... really, since it's mostly under control now, but we lost a few employees in the scuffle--"

"Just tell me what happened," Vox heaves a long suffering sigh as he presses a claw to his screen, ready to send out apology gift baskets to HR again.

"Um. Well, there is a... Populis calls it a cat, but I'm quite sure it's not any sort of 'typical' animal at all, especially since it has antlers and a monocle... anyway. There's this... *creature* just kind of running around on the main floor, and it took out about five workers before Baxter managed to subdue it."

Vox blinks once, then twice, and then sighs again. "I swear to fucking God- okay, go and contact HR so they can get you all tested for rabies or whatever the fuck it is down in Hell, and I'll come to deal with the fucking cat thing."

"Yes, sir," Dei replies dutifully before the line goes dead. Vox groans before schooling himself and his expression and disappearing into a flash and electric current, teleporting all the way down to the first floor of the Vee's tower.

"S-sir!" Papermint comes running toward him first, looking worried. "Um... so, uh, when Dei went to get the cat creature, it sort of attacked him too--"

"For fucks sake, do none of you know how to do your job properly?" Vox pinches his screen again, thoroughly done. It was fucking Tuesday and he was already hoping for the end of the week. Get rich and famous, they told you. It'll be fun, they told you. Fun his fucking ass-- he has to spend his morning sitting through investment meetings and now, having to deal with a rabid Hell animal and the fact that it was mowing down his workers like some sort of demented lawnmower. Fucking great, just what he needed.

He stomps into the main hallway with the little eel sinner trailing awkwardly behind him, eyes widening in surprise as he takes in the scene before him.

On the ground, his main assistants Dei and Populis grapple with a tiny red animal.

It... looks somewhat like a cat, if a cat had an unholy union with whatever kind of deer Alastor was. And it also had a monocle, and was foaming at the mouth (yeah, definitely rabies), while his tech administrator Baxter stood to the side and watched with a bucketful of popcorn in hand. Logi, possibly the only normal sinner he had under his employment, was trying her damnednest to pull the cat- who, by the way, was winning the fight with BOTH his assistants- off of Dei, whose ear was currently in its mouth.

"I really need a drink," Vox groans before he rolls his sleeves up and walks forwards into the fray, the air around him crackling with static electricity as he intends to separate the fighters, whether with force or not- but to his surprise, he doesn't need to use any force at all.

Instead, when the little cat creature sees him, its eyes light up before it lets go of Dei's ear, the manta ray sinner letting out a groan of relief before collapsing onto the floor, the other assistants rushing to help him up. The cat, on the other hand, leaps up at Vox, who instinctively catches it in his arms. It purrs as it rubs against him, seemingly no longer hostile towards any of the other sinners in the room.

Vox stares down at the cat. It stares up at him, then grins.

It's... kind of cute, actually. In a really weird, freaky way.

"Uh... boss?" Baxter raises an eyebrow as he looks at the cat held securely in Vox's arms, then at the gaggle of sinners trying to make sure that Dei doesn't bleed out. "You gonna help, or...?"

Vox rolls his eyes before he sends a bolt of electricity over at the sinner and burns the bite, effectively cauterizing and closing the wound. "I'll have HR deal with it and get Dei a week's worth of paid recovery. Any more than that and I'm not covering it. You guys just get back to work after the cleanup crew comes, got it?"

He sighs down at the creature in his arms as he walks out of the main lobby, frowning to himself. "What am I going to do with you...? I've got a fitting with Dorian later, and he's *definitely* not gonna allow you in... and what the hell do you even eat, anyway? Better not be my workers- and oh dear god, I've got Vark, too, I can't believe I forgot about him-"

Still, even as he grumbles to himself, Vox can't help but recognize the truth: no matter what difficulties this little shit brings him, he's definitely keeping it.

A week's worth of time passes before Alastor finally finds some free time to go off and take a look at how his *esteemed* rival has been doing. He's half expecting half the Entertainment District to be destroyed by the time he returns, but there's nothing of the sort. In fact, business seems to be going about as usual... but then again, this may be one more of the TV demon's methods of avoidance. Vox *was* always a good actor, after all-- even if his own life was falling apart, he would never let that show.

So with that reassurance settled in himself, Alastor decides to take a risky move and get in closer range to his target- he slips into the shadows surrounding the crowd of reporters gathering around the ground floor of the Vee's Tower, clamouring for the chance to see the Media Overlord in the flesh.

Strangely, they all seem more chatty today-- Alastor didn't recall any sort of holiday being today, so it seemed that there was more information to be heard... and *that* was surprising, the revelation that something interesting may have happened while he was gone. Was it perhaps because of the hellspawn he'd dropped off a week earlier?

His question is answered not even a moment later, when Vox steps out of the doors, a confident grin on his face and a small, hissing red creature draped around his neck like a scarf.

Alastor's eye twitches.

Did he *keep* the damned thing? And why the *fuck* was he absentmindedly petting its fucking ears?! *That should have been him!*

[thewrldlooksred]

tagged by @lynxfrost13 !!!

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters, then tag five people to do the same

wont be tagging 5 people because i want to incite anyone that sees this (that feels up to it) to do the same >:] feel free to @ me on those i wanna see everyones blorbos!!!!!!

and oh god 5 is such a painful limit i am so sorry to my sillies that didnt make it im. TRYING to go for game variety :'( ... ive been agonizing over this for a solid hour ill be honest this is Hard LOL. Anyway:

character images for if u do not know them :3

[riddlerosehearts]

HII ITS IDIAVIL ANON AGAIN!!! i wanted to respond to the post u made in response to my ask... I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND NOT BEING ABLE 2 WRITE FICS LIKE!! ive been creatively writing for years and when it comes to stuff im rlly passionate abt i can become super duper creative. my struggle with writing fanfic is finding the time and motivation, plus my adhd makes it difficult for me to focus, BUT IVE BEEN DOING BETTER RECENTLY!!! im kinda familiar with wicked? i saw it on stage back when i was just a wee lad but i dont remember much of it (i honestly think i fell asleep ;-;) but i've been wanting to watch both the play and the new movie, i just haven't gotten to it yet. i will definitely keep this in mind as i watch both!! a few weeks ago i actually watched jennifer's body for the first time, i'd been wanting to watch it but then i saw someone mention a jennifer's body idiavil au and oh my gods i literally couldnt stop thinking about it. i've definitely kept that au in mind, and i will do the same for the wicked au!! when i do eventually watch wicked i'll probably send another giant yapping paragraph in ur asks abt it... ALSO PLEEASEE I WOULD LOVE LOVE LOVE TO HEAR MORE ABT UR AU IT SEEMS SO COOL!!! also. hercules au. oh my god u get me. i'm not exaggerating when i say i've thought abt the idiavil meg and hercules parallel at least once a day for the past like five or so months. i NEVER stop talking to my friends about it EVER. i was actually on a disney cruise (twas a family trip) about a month ago and they had a giant tv above the pool, they showed a movie every fifteen minutes (after the movie prior had ended) and WHEN I TELL YOU I FREAKED OUT WHEN I SAW THEY HAD A SHOWING FOR HERCULES. AND I HAD TO RESIST FROM STIMMING (i get embarrassed when i stim in public bc i dont like being looked at or percieved like ever) DURING WONT SAY IM IN LOVE LIKE THATS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE DISNEY SONG OF ALL TIME OH MY GOODNESS. I WOULDNT STOP TEXTING MY FRIEND AND TALKING ABOUT IDIAVIL. also i did see ur response and oh my goodness i think abt it so much. ill probably share the keychains and playlists off anon later... also i LOVE the fact u keep ur pins of them next to each other... my birthday was actually a while ago (oct 28th) but the art has been delayed bc shes been busy which idm, shes putting a ton of effort into it. ill also probably share that off anon whenever its done!! alr im gonna wrap this up, i do have a few things i have to get done soon but i'll try to send in those playlists and pictures of the keychains b4 i go to bed tn!!

hi again haha!! whenever you watch the wicked movie i really hope you enjoy it! just keep in mind that they kind of, extended every single scene in act 1 to make it 2.5 hours long (when the whole stage musical with both acts combined is that length), so it's only a part 1 and we won't get part 2 until next year. which admittedly DOES bug me but i still loved the movie anyway. if you want to watch the stage musical after that, well, the people who record bootlegs usually ask you not to put them on youtube but people do anyway AKJDGJFSG. so you can probably find one easily enough! it's my absolute favorite musical! when i went to see it live in april, i kept thinking "well, vil does share glinda's love of fashion and her popularity and ambition, but he's different from her in a lot of ways too! for example, he doesn't believe that popularity is the only thing that really matters, and he would never sacrifice his own morals and ideals to achieve his goals... oh... wait..." and then i realized that the whole plot of book 5 is that vil kind of DID do all that! that's the whole tragedy of it, that he overblotted because he DID start to think that his hard work was meaningless and that he SHOULD resort to any means possible to be the most popular at the expense of his moral compass, and he thought of himself as ugly for doing so! he COULD have ended up basically alone, being praised by others around him as beautiful and good while inside he secretly believes himself to be wicked, just like glinda if his friends hadn't done everything to stop him from poisoning neige.

and idia may not be an animal rights activist like elphaba, nor is she an otaku LOL, but elphaba grew up lonely and ostracized because of her green skin and idia's family curse forced him to grow up isolated on the isle of woe and have blue fire for hair. she's a caretaker for her disabled sister whose father blames her for her condition, and idia has a robot brother whose death he blames himself for. elphaba is jaded and sarcastic and abrasive and deeply insecure, and who else fits that description? the only issue is that idia is far too pessimistic about the future to decide to do what elphaba does in defying gravity on his own, but i think in an AU he could be pushed to do it. also there's this part in wicked where after glinda and elphaba get back from a big dance at the ozdust ballroom glinda says "was that your first party?!" and elphaba deadpans "does a funeral count?" and i can just so clearly see that with idia and vil AFKJDGHF. there's so many other scenes too that i just see as being perfect for them.

as for fiyero i had two ideas here: in the actual musical, there's a love triangle in which elphaba and fiyero ultimately end up together but as i mentioned i would want to give my AU a happy ending and make vil and idia end up together in it. so i would do one of two things: 1) cast kalim as fiyero, because he literally just fits the role perfectly. fiyero is a foreign prince, and look at the lyrics to dancing through life and try to tell me kalim wouldn't sing this. but i don't ship kalim with either vil or idia, so in this scenario i'd probably cut the love triangle and have him somehow end up as their bestie who supports whatever insane gay thing those two have got going on. imo kalim really does fit fiyero better than anyone else and this idea is just so funny to me. or 2) cast rook as fiyero, keep the love triangle, and have it end in polyamory because even though i've never even considered shipping rook with idia i do ship rook/vil and i think this would be hilarious as an AU. also, there's a scene in wicked where glinda and elphaba are hanging out and glinda is like "let's tell each other our best secrets! i'll go first! FIYERO AND I ARE GOING TO BE MARRIED!!!" and since they've just started dating elphaba is like "he's asked you already??" and then glinda goes "oh no, he doesn't know yet!" and imagining vil saying that about rook just makes me laugh so hard.

OKAY. so there is an incomplete summary of my thoughts on a vilidia wicked AU!! honestly i don't really watch horror movies so i haven't seen jennifer's body but if i ever do watch it i'll have to keep that AU idea in mind. as for the hercules parallel idk if you've seen this post of mine but it makes me so happy every time someone likes or reblogs it because then i get to think about them again. hercules/meg has always been one of my favorite disney couples so when i saw this happen in book 6 i was immediately just. doomed to be insane about vil/idia forever because are you KIDDING ME?? also your birthday is right after mine omg, mine was october 25th!! so a late happy birthday to you, then! one last thing i'd like to say in this already way too long response is that i have two sets of floyd and riddle nuis--listen, they're my other favorite ship so i bought the first ones online and then saw more at a con i went to and couldn't resist--and i'm going to be getting idia and ortho nuis for christmas. hopefully soon i'll be able to get a vil nui as well so i can keep him right next to his boyfriend and his film club buddy/future brother-in-law 💙💜

[moimoimoinnnn]

Welcome ladies and gentlemen give it up for the band Hi we'Re the Ban dmy name is Jayho and this is my friend Sung Bun we are from South Korea and we will be one of Koreeas favorite band ever oR TAHT IS OUR GOAL ANYWAY WE LET YOUD ECIDE AND BE SURE YOURE GONNA JUDGE WISELY. ;) WE RECENTLY GAVE OUT OR EP CALLED WHAT IS LOVE BUT COPURIGHT SO WE HAD TO CHANGE IT TN LOVE IS WHAT BUT IF YOU AKS ME ITS ALWAYS WHAT IS LOVE ALTHOUGH I KNOW IT OK I WAS ALWAYS PLAYING LOVELY DOVELY YES I SAID TAHT IN high school i wa sthe pumpkin spiced latte said cause i was half white but im not a basic bitch and yes i said was cause i died but got chrynofrozen and tgehn unfrosen back ti life it wa surreal i was not willing to do so but hey im bakc and now i dont understand why i wasnt willing to do so in the frst place. Anwyay my single dead and then undead was really popular

gee i winder hwy sung bin not round now i am talkning tomy fans 'bro your camera is turned off

more like on Minhjoo said when he came in th eroom

eight Minhoo can you scootsh back ok this is worse than that band with more than 84 memebers and still called them 84 what a world i know right but before we could continue our intelligent conversation the bus took a turn for the worse or a u turn we grabbed our seats but no too late i hit my head we all did and woke upin the hopsital not remembebirng a athing so we must learn how to be kpop stars all over again pretty much guys

so first of all the fan service can you do taht

well since minwhioo only love himself you should ask him that if he could hey self love is important mnot this much we all said

ok so

Kim PARK

CAN YO U PARK YOUR CAR

if tah s what yo uare gonna call it then yes

night pk get going guys and os we did we practisied dancing for four hours not five thank god and sang and everything until we couldnt talk literally lol

butn ot lol my throat hurts Minwhoo cried ill help you i said Thanks Kim Kimchi

tahts not my STAGE NAME AND NEVER WILL BE well what ever my pumpkin hey no tahts the other guy

i know he said adn kissed in the air to me

i but my hand in a way

no way i was getting kisses and def no t air kisses

they were more seriosu that anything

oro should isay cheerios and im niot saying that cause i ve been paid tp but we got pur paycheddk fro mcherrios so

Anyway we were lit liek our stage all in candles teh show was lit

And the nMinwhoo told me to get to the stage room

i felt like iwas in A drama Why would you call form e so unesxpectactly

well i have a request

ok

can you become my man

on nstage

catch you and stuff we already practised that wjen i jump you jump ok i know but i mea in bed

in bed

i was not sure what he meant

ok dont be so nervous he said take of your shirt what

kome here kimchi he said and began to undress

i looked at his abs they were marvelious

i felt hugnry no thirsty well both'

i couldt stop looking i was in awe

so much so that i got a boner akward i hadnt even started to undress

its ok i know him Minwhoo said

of COURRSE YOU TOO YOU SELF LOVER

WELL I CAN PLAY FOR THE OTHER TEAM AS WELL TOO HE SAID AND WE BEGAN TO KISS AND MAN IT WAS HOT MAKEOUT SESSION MY FAVORITE KIND OF SESSION. mY GOD YOURÉ GOOD I SAID DEFIENLTY NOT BAD YOURSLEF EITEHR

I CANT BELIEVE IUT WE WERE KISSING WE WERE SO NAUGHTY BIYS I MEAN UHUM MEN ANTWAY WHO LIEKS TO PLAY NICE ALL THE TIE EITHERWAY

SO WE WENT PON AND ON AND sEUNG bIN WALKED IN WHAT ARE YO UGUYS DOIN OK OK I SEE WELL I Knew you would be close but damn you´Re reall yclosoe thats cool btw

oh man icnat believe im saying this but Sung bin your nit Sung IN this story

sayonara OK KIM kIMCHI

Hey ilove that food

i thought you loved me Minhoo said and laughed i started to laugh to o we had a fun night that night filled with joy and lauughter;)

It wa sbetetr than our band called teh band so we were the band teh band or teh band band as our fans called us

[ollies-outies]

im a simple man. i see a side character with a 50% chance of dying, i fall in love.

[musicallisto]

"what’s that smug look for? you think you can do any better?" + benedict bridgerton!!! ik u didnt ask for a scenario but i am imagining y/n is an artist like benedict 💖

: ̗̀➛ 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 (benedict bridgerton x gn!reader)

summary: “Unsurprisingly so, then, and by dint of painting together in the early hours so often, Benedict Bridgerton had become your partner in crime, for better or for worse.”

author notes: rowan this is completely unrelated but like eons ago I asked you for one song that you had on repeat or defined you and you said stalker’s tango and I never got the chance to tell you but I too have been streaming stalker’s tango on repeat for the past 8 months and it’s irremediably stuck at the top of my spotify top tracks and like we are the same person bestie

word count: 1.6k

soundtrack: la fille sans larmes | 𝄞

features: fluff and banter, artist!reader (gender neutral)

˚ ༘✶ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST || TAG LIST ˚ ༘✶

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 through the art studio’s wide windows, spotting your canvas with clear glimmers of the morning. Such silence, appeasing and rousing, all the same, was a scarcity in London, and a blessing much sought after — the purest speck of it only found at Henry Granville’s studio in the outskirts of Mayfair. The painter had assured you, in his capacity as “a good friend and a like-minded eccentric”, that you were in every position to stop by his studio and make good use of his easels, and the breathtaking daylight cradling them. It would have been ill-advised of you to decline such a generous offer from the only benefactor who cared not about your social standing, but solely your vision; besides, the company in the early morning proved to be quite agreeable.

Which made for the perfect environment to glower at the misshapen, limping form you had just sketched. Truly, no amount of divine light could have given it any cohesive shape.

“My, Y/N, what an avant-gardist you are! Dabbling in modern art, are you now?”

There he was, the taunting devil, looking over your shoulder at the black blurb in the middle of your painting with a wicked grin on his face. Though he —  masterfully — feigned innocence and refinement at the social events during which you had initially met, Benedict Bridgerton was, without the shadow of a doubt, the most pestering, boisterous Lord you had ever met — and God had thought it right to make him a second-born and a Romantic to boot. But you were just as terrible; prideful, like only artists can be, and guilty of dreaming bigger than your situation. Unsurprisingly so, then, and by dint of painting together in the early hours so often, he had become your partner in crime, for better or for worse.

Worse, like that very instant.

“This, Benedict, is a lion in the savannah,” you huffed, turning back to your canvas. “Though I suppose I must not fault you for not knowing, as you are certainly not the most well-traveled of the Bridgertons.”

He laughed at that, a hearty laugh, and something fluttered in your chest — the same little ember that came alight every time you were in his presence and refused to die down when you were home alone, forcing all thoughts of him in the corners of your mind...

“I’m only jesting, Y/N. I know perfectly a Kenyan five-pawed, one-eyed lion when I see it.”

“That’s not a leg, that’s his tail!”

It did look like a fifth leg. Very much so.

Heaving a sigh, you let your shoulders slump. Yes, the sketch was pitiful. But you would have rather died than admit defeat before Benedict. And in your defense, the scene you had envisioned was much grander than what charcoal allowed, and once you added blazing colors to the scene, the sheer beauty of  it would surely strike Benedict’s pleased mouth shut.

You took a step back from your work, then turned on your heels, and your eyes involuntarily settled on the scene Benedict was painting. You knew your friend was talented, infuriatingly so, but it was once again a truth best kept secret, lest it went to Benedict’s enormous head. Nothing, though, could capture the vivacity of the scene before you. Cold, dark clouds swirled in a frenzied sky, under which a desperate ship fought the raging tide, the seafoam’s roaring white slamming into the hull like tears in the canvas. Had you not known any better, you would have sworn the artist had lived through that very shipwreck to tell the tale... and eye you with the most insufferable smirk you had ever seen.

“What is that smug look for? Do you think you can do any better?” You handed him your coal piece and tore a page in your notebook. “Please, by all means, Lord Bridgerton, teach me how it is done.”

His eyes widened, eyebrows rose, but not once did his smile falter, and with a decided hand he seized the coal and paper and took a seat at the nearby table.

“Well, if you insist, it would be my pleasure, dear.”

At last, you would prove the illustrious Benedict Bridgerton wrong, and shut that stupidly alluring mouth of his. Excitement bubbled in the pit of your stomach as you came to stand behind him; or was it the same timid flame you had felt for months, quietly screaming to be let out?

Benedict paused for a few moments, gave a few mock strokes in the air, hovering above the paper, and turned it around to find the best angle of attack. All the while, your gaze rested on his hands, as though you couldn’t force it away — strong yet delicate, somewhat calloused by the rough brushes, they held the charcoal with purpose, like they owned every secret it had ever known. When he started drawing, though, they gained a mind of their own, it seemed, hitting the sheet with unparalleled precision. Even coated in dark coal and old acrylic stains, Benedict’s hands were mesmerizing — and you found yourself urging to hold them, to feel them, to know what it would be like to be adored by them like his paintings... Blushing furiously at the thought, you pushed it away to the secluded place the others had been banished to.

“Firstly, we need to lay the proportions...”

Benedict made quick work of the foundations, drawing summary circles of different sizes, then furnishing them with meticulous strokes, like a tree taking shape from its trunk. Mesmerized, you watched him add details, the open jaws of the beast and its majestic mane, insufflating life into the drawing, even adding a sprinkle of mischief in the lion’s black eye — and you forgot to even get upset over how effortlessly he was humiliating you.

Perhaps you did not mind it that much if it meant you got to see the flexes of his muscles, the magic of his hand, the beauty of his imagination at work.

“And voilà! A lion to rival Buckingham’s,” he triumphed, holding the paper up to the light for you both to see, and the complacency in his funny little tone brought back all the irritation you had suppressed while he was working. You had to find some flaw in his offhand masterpiece, if only for your honor.

“Pardon me, Benedict, but that is a decent lion at best, certainly not fit for a royal palace. It has a crooked leg, and his mane is all untidy.”

Leaning over to point at the minuscule blemishes, you laid both of your hands on top of his shoulders, and immediately cursed the audacity that had overpowered you. Yet you did nothing to remove your hands, the warmth radiating through Benedict’s shirt way too pleasurable... and he had not made a move to evade it, had he?

“Are you joking? This is a lion of the most royal caliber. In fact, he rose through the ranks in spite of his crooked leg, and is a model of bravery for all the crooked lions of the savannah.”

Turning his head, he looked up at you, and your pressure on his shoulderblades strengthened unwittingly, perhaps to withhold the intensity of his gaze. For a few instants, the entire world kept silent, like a bated breath, and the sunlight washed over his clever eyes and the smile tugging at his lips. All you could do was contemplate him.

“You would not happen to be jealous, would you?”

“I — me? — Jealous?” you stuttered, closing a mouth you had, much to your shame, left slightly open. “Perish the thought! Whatever would there be for me to be jealous of?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

His eyes flickered downward, to your palms still resting on his shirt, and you removed them as if lighting had struck you, fighting with every last fiber of your heart to not show your embarrassment — and the slightest tinge of disappointment, too. But Benedict was still smiling, though, gazing into your eyes, and you swore you would have paid all the riches in the world just to know what thoughts were twirling in his head at that very moment.

But as soon as the moment had come, it passed, and Benedict turned around to hand you the drawing.

“You know what — in all my infinite graciousness, I am letting you keep it. Consider it a gift, and a lesson.”

Your fingers lingered over his for longer than should have been acceptable, and you grew suddenly very aware of the proximity between the two of you, and how resolutely alone you were — how no overbearing chaperone nor anxious mama would be present to prevent you from making a grave mistake. Swallowing, you took the drawing, careful to avoid grazing Benedict’s fingers or crumpling the paper.

“Thank you very much. I shall treasure this... lesson. To better my craft.”

“I would hope nothing less,” he murmured and stood from his chair, returning to his easel as if the stolen moment had never happened.

You, on the other hand, remained in place, heart whistling like a steam machine, incapable of averting your eyes from the grinning little lion, mane dancing in the wind and tenderness on his face. If you had turned around and fought off the magical aura of Benedict’s gift, perhaps you would have seen him stealing glances at you with the same playful passion.

But you didn’t turn around, and you didn’t see him. All you did was press the small charcoal lion to your chest, exhale with a smile, and let the morning light engulf you.

tagging: @starkeysslut @softeninglooks (all my writing); @retvenkos @noesapphic (bridgerton)

[snknmda]

Can you write a Suegiku fic about Jouno taking forever to get ready for his first mission as a hunting dog (bc he’s struggling to get dressed on his own cause of his eyesight and his old organization members aren’t there to help him like they used to) and Tecchou offers to help. Also- your fics are sooo good, ur super talented!!! <33

asjasjsj thank you so much!! im happy u enjoy my works ;w;

also this idea was so much fun to write thank u for submitting! c:

wc: 2k

general tags: tecchou having a gay crisis with implied nsfw at the end

Jouno hates polyester, he's decided.

It's coarse, it makes him itch, and it's hot. He doesn't understand why the military is set on making its soldiers suffocate to death with the hell that is their issued uniforms; and why are there so many buttons?

His previous vocation didn't require him to abide by a certain dress code, he could wear whatever he wanted without the amount of hassle he's facing right now.

His lithe fingers fidget with the stiff lapels of his shirt, fingertips tracing over the slits he's supposed to slip the buttons through for the umpteenth time, yet every time he tries, he always misses the mark and gets closer and closer to ripping the shirt.

Didn't they have velcro or something?

This is a pointless endeavour, but it isn't like he has the authority or convenience to just have someone button his shirt up for him anymore (he supposes he does miss the perks that came with being an esteemed criminal), alas, he has to do it himself.

Putting his boots, pants and belt on was no issue, but for some god forsaken reason, his shirt decided to test the fragile lines of his patience today and boy was he feeling it.

He was so busy trying to get the buttons to fit in their accurate slits that he forgot he had someone waiting for him just outside.

Tecchou is a patient man. He doesn't mind waiting for his ill-tempered partner for an extra five or ten minutes—

Except, it's been twenty, and Tecchou is beginning to wonder if the man is ever going to come out or not.

He throws his head back against the concrete wall with a dull thud, turning his head to peek at the door through his lashes behind which Jouno is doing god knows what.

For someone who reprimands even their commander for being tardy, he sure is taking his sweet time. Hell, Tecchou thinks he might as well take a nap right here with how his heavy eyelids threaten to slip shut from his lack of sleep.

He decides that he is going to wait another five minutes, and if Jouno doesn't show any signs of emerging by that time, then he will intervene.

Five minutes pass.

With a sigh, Tecchou pushes himself off the wall and lets his arms fall to his sides from where they were loosely crossed over his chest. With his height, it takes him three steps to reach Jouno's door.

He knocks twice with the crook of his index and middle finger, placing the other hand on his hip where his sword is attached. "Jouno?"

He hears shuffling and muffled speech on the other side like his intervention surprised the person on the other side.

"What?" Jouno answers in a bark.

"We're getting late."

"..." He gets no response and his eyebrows furrow. He assumes Jouno didn't hear him and goes to repeat his reminder.

"I said we're getting—"

"I heard you." Jouno interjects matter-of-factly, of course he did.

Tecchou blinks and scratches the back of his head in confusion, wondering if he has done something to warrant Jouno's attitude first thing today. He decides he hasn't and shifts his weight, hearing a hiss on the other side.

"Are you okay?" Tecchou isn't sure if that's the right question to ask, but it's all he can say when he doesn't know what the man's been doing in there for the past half an hour.

"I'm fine, it's just…" Jouno trails off, voice quietening at the end in hesitation. Tecchou waits in silence for him to continue, "can you come in here for a second?"

This surprises Tecchou, for he pulls his head back and looks left and right to see if there's anyone near him who he may have missed that Jouno may be referring to because Jouno asking Tecchou for his help? As rare as a blue moon.

"Are you sure?" Tecchou asks just in case he's hearing things, making Jouno tut in annoyance from the other side.

"Don't make me ask you twice."

Well then.

Tecchou grabs the handle and slowly pushes the door open, craning his neck to get a look at what exactly Jouno needs help with, and well…

He catches the sight of his side profile from where he's standing next to the coffee table that has his gloves, belt, cape and military issue sword on it placed neatly next to each other. His hair falls gracefully over his face in silky white wisps, veiling the embarrassed frown on his face as he finally drops his hands in defeat upon the arrival of help.

Tecchou steps inside and shuts the door behind him with a soft click, gaze flickering down to Jouno's tense figure and comes to see the problem at hand.

Jouno can't seem to button down his shirt.

Jouno expected Tecchou to laugh at first, but he doubted his own assumption later. Tecchou has never expressed amusement past airy huffs in half-assed chuckles and smug lopsided smirks. Even so, the presumed potential minimalistic reaction would surmount Jouno's back pedalling so he's an annoyed, anxious mess all over again.

Tecchou offers no reaction unless Jouno's sharp ears are mistaken.

There's no notable change in the way his heart beats its usual monotonous rhythm, except for the skip in it when he walked in. After that it's just been normal, and it helps Jouno relax to a certain degree.

"Do you need help with something?" Tecchou's sonorous voice pleasantly fills the plain walls of Jouno's on-base suite.

"I'm beginning to think that the tailor forgot to add the holes for the buttons," is all Jouno bothers explaining. He doesn't feel like talking especially if his face is burning from both the heat and frustration of failing to button a simple shirt.

Tecchou steps forward till he's standing an arm's distance away from Jouno, turning his head to take a peek at his ordeal.

The fabric around the buttons is wrinkled, seemingly from Jouno's ceaseless attempts in trying to push them through the wrong slits. Still (and naturally so), Tecchou's impassive gaze shifts to Jouno's abdomen.

It's a pale expanse of smooth skin all the way from his chest till his navel with faded scars here and there. Tecchou sucks in a deep breath to steady the beating of his heart when he notices the happy trail going down his toned stomach till under the waistband of his pants.

There's no escaping the ogling even if he wants to stop, because it's creepy and feeling his skin heat up at the mere sight of Jouno's refined torso is wrong. Though, he can't help but compare; Jouno's not unfit by any means, but he also isn't as jacked as Tecchou— which isn't a bad thing! After all, he isn't a fitness enthusiast like Tecchou is and is rightfully built for what he deems best. And well, it looks good, great even. It gives him the grace he carries around that Tecchou can't physically muster.

"Tecchou-san." Tecchou snaps out of his daze and blinks rapidly, tearing his eyes off of his godly visage to meet his closed eyes in a deadly glare.

"Right, uh—" He swallows thickly and clears his throat in a measly cough, finally scanning the buttons that have been Jouno's sworn enemy all morning. "Well, for starters, you're buttoning it wrong."

"You don't say." Jouno retorts sarcastically under his breath, turning a little to give Tecchou access and the go.

With a deep exhale through his nose, Tecchou reaches up with steady hands and hooks his fingertips over Jouno's collar, gliding the pad of his thumb over the fabric to straighten the clasp and ignoring how his fingertips brush against the skin under his throat.

"Look up." He instructs simply, making Jouno tilt his chin up in silent compliance. At this angle, the pale light from his ceiling casts delicate shadows over Jouno's face, highlighting the sharp curves of his brow bones and cheeks. Tecchou refrains from staring at how his light lashes glow golden under the dim light and how prettily they sit over his blushing cheeks as he hooks the clasp in one quick motion.

Then his hands fiddle with the first button and align it with the slit. In Jouno's defense, the slits aren't cut all the way and Tecchou has to jab his thumb through them to pry them open as he proceeds down his front.

The hardest part of this task was not staring and getting caught for it, though he suspects Jouno knows already.

By the time the last button is binded, Tecchou grabs his belt off the table and hooks the leather through the hoops around his waist, circling his arms around Jouno to do that as he accommodates by lifting his arms.

Tecchou is trying his best to keep as much distance between them in fear of getting smacked across the face for being invasive, but it seems like Jouno doesn't mind so far for the lack of insults and degrading.

He then wordlessly reaches for the sword and hooks it around the hoop in his shirt at his hip, letting it dangle against his thigh as he then proceeds to reach for the cape.

Though socially challenged, Tecchou isn't awkward. At least, not according to himself.

Yet when he has to hook his arms around Jouno's neck to slide the cape over his broad shoulders, the lack of distance between their faces makes Tecchou's heart skip a nervous beat.

He looks even more beautiful up this close and ironically gentle. He doesn't look pissed, which is surprising, since he never misses the chance to let Tecchou know that the overbearing sounds of his very existence suffocate him. Right now, though, Jouno's smiling.

Tecchou barely contains his surprise at the expression and finishes hooking the chain from his shirt to the cape's collar.

"There." Tecchou says quietly, stepping back to take in his handiwork.

"I guess you aren't so useless after all." Jouno muses and Tecchou supposes it's as close to a thank you he'll ever get so he takes it.

He doesn't say anything in turn, offering a tight smile in response.

Jouno grabs the gloves off the counter and effortlessly slips them on, flexing his fingers so the material fits the crevices.

"So, to express my gratitude for your samaritanism, I'll let you in on a little secret." Jouno says with pure sarcasm dripping from his voice, sounding amused as his smile stretches into one that forebodes mischief.

"What secret?"

Jouno huffs a laugh, stepping closer to Tecchou to eliminate the distance the taller man was attempting to make.

"I only asked for your help with my shirt."

Tecchou's heart damn near jumps out his ass. Jouno never asked in the first place, but let's ignore that.

"You didn't stop me." Tecchou retorts, unmoving from his spot as he stares down at Jouno with barely any change in his expression, even if he feels his chest tighten at him overstepping.

"Hm, I didn't. I assumed you were enjoying yourself, so I let you have at it."

For once, Tecchou frowns.

"Pervert."

This makes Jouno's smirk falter. "I'm a pervert? You were clearly the one who—"

"You didn't stop me." Tecchou reiterates with light emphasis on the first word, smirking smugly at how Jouno's entire expression falls and morphs into disgust and annoyance at how the odds shifted in Tecchou's favour.

"Then I guess we're both equally as complicit." Jouno bites his tongue and doesn't give Tecchou the time to realise that he indirectly admits to willingly letting Tecchou dress him up, brushing past him and swinging the door to his suite open. "Now, please get out of my dorm."

Tecchou exhales sharply through his nostrils in a chuckle, not bothering adding to their conversation when he's clearly won (and because they're both already almost an hour late for their mission and Teruko-san will have their heads on a pike for the delay).

It may be a twisted or corrupted thought to have, but Tecchou secretly hopes that this happen again sometime,

And maybe next time he'll have a better chance to admire what lies beneath the damned polyester.

[nordleuchten]

so, I was reading some letters between Lafayette and Washington in the founders archive, and when I came to tumblr, I saw one or two posts of yours and now I'm curious, what are your favorite quotes from letter between the two of them??

Ty for answearing and gm/gn wherever u are!! <3

Hello there :-)

I have actually answered two similar questions but I never did that explicitly for the letters between George Washington and La Fayette. I find these questions always quite hard because there are just so many interesting letters that we know of - and even more letters that we may never knew about. In general, I like those letters the best, that show historical figures as persons, a real living breathing human beings with all their interests and feelings and flaws.

February 23, 1778: La Fayette commented on the failed invasion of Canada - he makes it sounds like he just discovered a great secret, but the suspicions expressed in the letter were more or less common knowledge.

“I fancy (betwen us) that the actual scheme is to have me out of this part of the continent, and general connway in chief under the immediate direction of general gates (…)”

January 11, 1779: La Fayette wrote Washington a last farewell before returning to France for the first time during the War.

“Farewell, my dear General, I hope your french friend will ever be dear to you, I hope I Schall Soon See you again, And tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the Coast you inhabit, and with what affection, and Respect I’ll for ever be, my dear General Your Respectfull and Sincere friend”

September 30, 1779: Washington being very playful with La Fayette and Adrienne.

“But at present must pray your patience a while longer, till I can make a tender of my most respectful compliments to the Marchioness. Tell her (if you have not made a mistake, & offered your own love instead of hers to me) that I have a heart susceptable of the tenderest passion, & that it is already so strongly impressed with the most favourable ideas of her, that she must be cautious of putting loves torch to it; as you must be in fanning the flame. But here again methinks I hear you say, I am not apprehensive of danger—My wife is young—you are growing old & the atlantic is between you—All this is true, but know my good friend that no distance can keep anxious lovers long asunder, and that the Wonders of former ages may be revived in this—But alas! will you not remark that amidst all the wonders recorded in holy writ no instance can be produced where a young Woman from real inclination has prefered an old Man—This is so much against me that I shall not be able I fear to contest the prize with you—yet, under the encouragement you have given me I shall enter the list for so inestimable a jewell.”

December 8, 1784: Washington wrote this letter just after he parted ways with La Fayette who was visiting the United States right after the conclusion of the war.

“In the moment of our separation upon the road as I travelled, & every hour since—I felt all that love, respect & attachment for you, with which length of years, close connexion & your merits, have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our Carriages distended, whether that was the last sight, I ever should have of you? And tho’ I wished to say no—my fears answered yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, & found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill, I had been 52 years climbing—& that tho’ I was blessed with a good constitution, I was of a short lived family—and might soon expect to be entombed in the dreary mansions of my father’s—These things darkened the shades & gave a gloom to the picture, consequently to my prospects of seeing you again: but I will not repine—I have had my day.”

December 21, 1784: La Fayette’s reply to Washington’s letter from December 8, 1784.

I Have Received Your Affectionate letter Of the 8th inst., and from the known Sentiments of My Heart to You, You will Easely guess what My feelings Have Been in perusing the tender Expressions of Your friendship—No, my Beloved General, our late parting was Not By Any Means a last interview—My whole Soul Revolts at the idea—and Could I Harbour it an instant, indeed, my dear General, it would make me Miserable—I well see You Never will go to franee—the Unexpressible pleasure of Embracing You in My own House, of wellcoming You in a family where Your name is adored, I do not much Expect to Experience—But to You, I shall Return, and within the walls of Mount vernon we shall Yet often Speack of old times—my firm plan is to visit now and then My friends on this Side of the Atlantick, and the Most Beloved of all friends I Ever Had, or ever will Have Any where, is too Strong an inducement for me to Return to Him, nor to think that, when Ever it is possible, I will Renew my So pleasing visits to Mount vernon.

March 17, 1790: The letter that accompanied the Key of the Bastille that La Fayette send Washington as a gift and that is still displayed in the front pallor of Mount Vernon.

“Give me leave, My dear General, to present you With a picture of the Bastille just as it looked a few days after I Had ordered its demolition, with the Main Kea of that fortress of despotism—it is a tribute Which I owe as A Son to My Adoptive father, as an aid de Camp to My General, as a Missionary of liberty to its patriarch.”

August 23, 1790: La Fayette had received news that Washington had just recovered from a very serious illness.

“What Would Have Been My feelings, Had the News of Your illness Reached me Before I knew My Beloved General, My Adoptive father was out of danger! I was Struck with Horror at the idea of the Situation You Have Been in, while I, Uninformed, and to distant from You, Was Anticipating the long waited for pleasure to Hear from You, and the Still More Endearing prospect to Visit You, and present You with the tribute of a Revolution one of Your fine Offsprings—for God’s Sake, my dear General, take Care of Your Health, don’t devote Yourself So much to the Cabinet, while Your Habit of life Has from Your Young Years, Accostumed You to a constant Exercise. (…)You may Easily Guess what I am Exposed to Suffer, what would Have Been my Situation Had I known Your illness Before the News of Your Recovery Had Conforted a Heart So Affectionately devoted to You.”

October 6, 1797: La Fayette’s first letter to Washington after the long years of his imprisonment.

“(…) in Vain Would I Attempt, My Beloved General, to Express to You the feelings of My filial Heart, when, at the Moment of this Unexpected Restoration to Liberty and Life, I find Myself Blessed With the opportunity to let you Hear from me. This Heart Has for twenty Years Been known to you—Words, that, Whatever they be, fall So Short of My Sentiments Would Not do justice to What I feel—But You Will Be Sensible of the Affectionate and delightful Emotions With Which I am Now Writing—to You, and I know also it is Not Without Some Emotion that after five Years of a death like Silence from me, You Will Read the first Lines I am at Last Enabled to write —With What Eagerness and pleasure I Would Hasten to fly to Mount Vernon, there to pour out all the Sentiments of Affection, Respect, and Gratitude Which Ever Bound me, and More than ever Bind me to You (…)”

December 25, 1799: The last letter Washington wrote to La Fayette

May 9, 1799: The last letter Washington received from La Fayette

… and I can guarantee you, as soon as I hit “post” I will realize that I have forgotten at least one other quote. Anyway - what are you favourites, if I may ask?

I hope you have/had a beautiful day!

[raspberryranpo]

HEY SO IM THE ONE WHO ASKED FOR THE BLUE LION FIRST DATE HCS AND IM SO FHEGSJGfjGFjgWAG IL THEM SM AAAAAAAAAA can u pls write something else with the blue lions??? ill leave it up to u because ur cool like that so this is a blue lions freecard!!!

waking up with them would be like

fire emblem three houses: blue lion boys

ME?? COOL?? it’s less likely than you think

also i decided to do this because i would really like to cuddle dimitri right now

& thank you so much :(((

DIMITRI

if he’s not awake before you are, you’re in for a treat let me tell you now

his face when he’s sleeping is so wholesome. you can see the remnants of the dimitri before the five year gap

so pure, so innocent, bless his little (big??) cotton socks

when he opens his eyes, his face lights up to see you laying next to him

he’s very happy that you’re still there

his arms immediately wrap you tighter into his embrace, savouring the warmth coming from you

i mean this man is probably a human radiator but he just doesn’t realise it

litters kisses up & down your neck and your shoulders until you say something

dimitri has the sleepiest sounding morning voice ever & it’s so wholesome

he gazes at you with so much love

“good morning, my beloved.”

DEDUE

normally, dedue is up before you, not entirely dressed but he’s up and doing things

and by doing things i mean he’s bringing you breakfast in bed

good luck if you want to return the favour, he’s more than happy to do this for you with nothing in return

“your company is all i need, my love.”

...or something sappy like that

the breakfast is probably really good. i mean, this is supreme chef deddie-pie we’re talking about

while you’re eating he just sits next to you, an arm round you while he’s reading a book

occasionally he leans over to kiss you on the forehead like the sweetheart he is

when you’re done he’ll just wrap his arms around you

he gives very warm hugs ok

& you’ll just stay like that for as long as you can

SYLVAIN

does the casual lean-on-one-elbow, hand on your arm, very lovingly stare at your sleeping face thing that every anime/video game heart throb does

gently holds you against his chest & buries his nose in your hair

playfully pretends to eat you the second you wake up & it’s kind of weird but it is funny

it gets sylvain laughing genuinely though so you MUST put up with it

“good morning, darling.”

he’ll never get up before you, so whenever he wakes up before you’re awake he’ll just watch you

or he’ll cuddle you into tomorrow

or maybe he’ll kiss you until you open your eyes, and even then not stopping

either way it’s really cheesy & he wakes you up every morning as though it’s your honeymoon

FELIX

also a cuddler

he will refuse to admit it, but he really enjoys waking up in your arms (or you in his)

felix will fall asleep on the opposite side of the bed, but will ALWAYS end up cuddling you by the morning

when you both wake up in the morning he grumbles about having to wake up every time

not even the promise of a good spar could get him up at this point

he’s too comfortable in your arms, with his head in the crook of your neck

“mmm... five more minutes...”

if it gets so bad he’ll start trying to kiss you to sway your opinion

gentle butterfly kisses on your neck until it starts to tickle you, & then it turns into a full blown tickle war

it ends in the two of you in a laughing mess, and the time being two hours after you were supposed to leave

ASHE

why are all these boys so soft i swear to god

ashe is also a chronic cuddler & won’t let you go during the night so good luck trying to get a drink or something

in the morning, he’ll wake you up with Eskimo kisses & he’ll be playing with your hair

just carefully messing with it in his fingers & tucking strands behind your ears like the hopeless romantic he is

sometimes he’ll be sat up in bed, reading a book, and have you tucked into his side carefully

his hand would just gently pet your head, happy to have you lead next to him

he just thinks you’re really cute ok

when you wake up he’ll just smile & kiss you gently

& he’ll laugh at your bed hair lightheartedly

“good morning... you look like you’ve had a nice sleep.”

dude you guys are so nice to me it’s unreal 😭😭 thank you so much

also i hit 150 followers (i was on 120 before i started these, so that means 30 new followers!! thank you ahh)

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[ivanabaqero]

Since I just returned from rehab, here is my.. idk, emotional journey on my chronic illness + mental health or wtf ever u wanna call this. This is the most personal thing I have ever posted but I need to get it out. 

Before you read, I guess I gotta tw this for suicidal thoughts and descriptions of my symptoms.

I don’t even know where to start. It feels like all of this happened in one week and at the same in a span of several years. But no idea, time just kept passing and more shit happened. 

Last summer was pretty cool. I worked hard and made a fuckton of money - not really considering the consequences of the fact that I overstepped the boundaries of my body every single day. Either way, I regret nothing it was pretty cool and another experience I am glad I could make. Well, but when I came back home, I started to notice a few things. Among some weird shit nobody wants to know about, I noticed a change of my eyesight. There was a cloud right on the vision on my left eye and it got blurry. At first, it started with minutes and then it passed. But I knew my body responded to exhaustion in an odd way so I let it slide. As doctors have instructed me, only when it lasts over 24 hours it’s an actual episode/flare and I should go to the ER -- to elaborate this further, I have been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2015 and have not had any bigger flares since, only the regular symptoms like fatigue, etc.

 I got treated with the regular medication; cortisone. This shit gave me some energy boost for a few days and then, things went back to somewhat normal. The blurry thing in my eye has changed into a weird ass thing called nystagmus. Basically, my eyeball was twitching. It was better than the blurry sight and my doctors told me that physical therapy was the only thing to help me with that, and up until some weeks ago this didn’t stop, at the moment it’s gotten way better though - a relief because that caused me mad headache and made reading really difficult.

Anyway, that was the smaller problem. A few months later, in December around Christmas, I have gotten really weak and have been constantly dizzy. As usual, I let it slide for some days. Up until that point when I couldn’t move from the bed or look at anything else but right up at the ceiling or I would get fucking dizzy. Back to the ER again, the same procedure began. Cortisone  resulted in a massive push of energy that lasted for some days, but after that, all the symptoms slowly returned. Not only that, but it started to get worse. I have been dragging and limping with my left foot since months but I still managed somehow to walk and get around. In January I had a major panic attack when I noticed that I couldn’t walk on my own to my doctors, which is merely an 8 minute walk away. I had to call my mom to bring me back home because I couldn’t go any step more. My doctor sent me to the ER but the next day, I decided that I was fine and being over dramatic and everything was perfectly fine. The whole thing kept getting worse, I could not walk anymore, I kept feeling dizzy all the time unless I was staring at only one spot: my laptop or phone. So that was what I did, ignore my symptoms. Adding to my chronic fatigue, dizziness, inability to walk and my eye problem, a sensitivity problem spread all over my body from the chest downwards. My hands hurt and my fingers cramped up and got stiff, I lost all feeling in my feet. I had an appointment at the neurologist thank god, or else, I would have let it gotten worse and kept telling myself that I am being over dramatic and nothing is actually wrong. Delusional? Maybe. I don’t understand myself there either.

The neurologist decided to keep me in hospital for a whole ass week, getting cortisone every day. I got in there with the ambulance in a wheelchair and left out of there walking again. Not perfectly, but I thought things were looking up. Of course, once the high dose of steroids begins to wear off and you slowly come down from it, you first catch sleep. Steroids this time have been given to me five days in high dose instead of three and in addition, I had to take pills that I had to reduce slowly over another two weeks. I did not sleep in those three weeks more than 3-4 hours per night and then I finally could. To make this more understandable; my brain was tired but my body was buzzing. I also had a tremor that has still not entirely left me as a wonderful side effect from the medication. 

That time stationary they finally put me back in a MRT and found 2 bigger new lesions. One of them in my cerebellum and the other in my spinal cord. Each of them causing me all those massive problems. Back at home I had physical therapy every day, but despite all of it, I had to rely on a wheelchair. I got my wheelchair in march and named him Otto because he is the best man ever. Next time in hospital, I was mentally and physically just fucking done and tried to just ignore how much my mental health was going downhill along with my body, the neurologist offered me stationary rehab at a very well known center where they treat several physical as well as mental illnesses. I said yes, and luckily got a place in July.

The initial plan was to stay there for four weeks, but the doctors suggested to extend to six. I did. And good that I did. I made slow progress. Very slow. To imagine, in twenty minutes at the first day I could barely walk 130m with four  breaks in between, with walking aid and what not - and my last day I made 640m in the same time with no breaks. I know this doesn’t sound like a lot but fuck -- I made it out of a fucking wheelchair. I am walking again. Not perfectly or any good, but my legs are used for their purpose again; to get me through this world. For someone who loves hiking and going for little walks alone, this was such a big deal to just not be able to anymore. 

The day I had the panic attack was the day I realized that in 2015 I made a promise to myself that if I ever have to rely on other people, I would end it. But I felt selfish for not wanting to end it. I felt selfish  for wanting to live and being a burden to people. I know, none of this is my fault and I am the first to give good advice, but am I good at handling my own shit? Absolutely not. 

With all the physical therapy I did for six weeks every day, I also had a psychologist that helped me understand myself better and deal with the trauma this experience brought me. I have to find another psychologist at home as well, because I didn’t feel the one I have helped me at all. I had to make a lot of promises to myself, such as accepting and asking for help and that it’s no shame in doing so. I feared losing my independence and I still do. But fuck, this experience was an eye opener in so many ways. I made new friends in rehab as well, which was one of the coolest things. And I got hit on by two attractive men - can you believe? I was in a wheelchair, dressed like absolute shit and not making any kind of deal of how I look! But yeah, my interest wasn’t really there to get involved in anything. I’ve got a lot of love to give but I need to give it to myself rather than pour it out on someone else.

I learned so many lessons, about my body and about my mind. My brain is an idiot and I have so many fears I was never even able to see until now. I thought optimism could beat everything and well... while it helps me a lot to get through every day life, every now and then I just need a slap in the face to look at things in another light. Not everything is fine if you tell yourself it is, no, you are not over reacting and you are allowed to feel sorry for yourself when life is dealing you a bad card. It doesn’t matter that other people have it worse -- it doesn’t mean your own shit is any less valid. And with that, I am going to wash my face and stop crying. I am still in a shock of reality state because I am  back at home now and everything is different. And I got to admit, I feel a little lonely. But I don’t want to reach out to my old friends at the moment with whom I felt like the “sick friend”. I want more friends in similar positions as me so I don’t have to feel bad for... well, feeling bad, and I don’t want to hear any more optimism monologues from healthy people who have absolutely no idea what it is like to have chronic pain, fatigue and overall; an illness. Whether it be mental or physical.

If you really read all of this, thank you. There was no need to, but I appreciate it. I honestly just needed to let it out. Because I haven’t done so properly since all of that started. 

[nanabbi]

Hello! I love zisashi angst and I have at least 70 fics to rec! ... Would you like me to recommend them? 👀 I've been colecting them for over a year now

So, this person did DM me the recs but they didn’t want to be mentioned by name, so I’ll just thank them a lot for sharing their suggestions. They had also placed sweet little notes for all of them, I’ll include them, but I hold no authority of them. I’ll add some of my own insight if I have any.

Here is the list for me and all of you to check them out:

don't scream until the earth crumbles by rise_beyond_the_graveyard (serenlyall)

3K/Oneshot-  [Their Note:  Angst for Hizashi and Shouta. Mentions of torture, be careful with the tags]

If At First You Don't Succeed... by MarziPanda95

26K/Completed- !!! It Is completed! Yay, I’ll definitely read it at first chance. It is a Groundhog Day fic. [Their Note:  A personal favorite that was completed very recently. Mentions of torture (mental and corporal) the tension in this fic is amazing! And its really well written]

Without You I Can't Breathe by morbidcorvids

2K/Oneshot- Major Character Death. Hizashi basically dies in Aizawa’s arms from what I saw.  [Their Note: This one is... So good but omg it made me so sad ;;;; a great piece of angst!! Mind the tags before breaking your heart].

Hindsight Is 20/20 by Nartothelar

2K/Oneshot- Wait there’s fics of this AU!? Omg! I was wondering where I could get more insight about it and this fic is part of a series. Now tho 👀 [Their Note:  Part of nartothelar's awesome mafia au! I love the angst in this one, and even comes with art! 💕💞💖💓 love it so much]

Resignation by OnAir

28K/Completed- [Their Note:  THIS IS OMG SJDVBDD MY FAVE, I'VE READ IT LIKE 8383737721 TIMES, its a must! Read! Of! Hizashi! Angst! Pleaaaase! Do yourself a favor and read this masterpiece]

[More under Read More, because our provider was very generous with their suggestions]

Patchwork Family by bravobeavo

3K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  This one is so cute! Hizashi angst with erasermic family fluff to warm your heart! Shinsou and Eri are so worried for their dad in this one 💕]

Consumption of the Heart and Lungs by YamiHeart

4K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  I think you will like this one... Its a hanahaki!!!! And in japan with ninjas and samurais 💕💞💖 and an omg very good amazingly written hanahaki. It is part of a series though! So if you fall in love with it you can read the next one!]

White Chrysanthemums by LipstickVenom

9K/Oneshot- I see Major Character Death warning and Hurt no Comfort. I’ll approach with caution [Their Note: Ok hear me out, this one hurts! A lot, but its oh so amazing💕 fully recommend it!]

Paper Hearts by Xen_The_Protogen

2K/Oneshot- Major Character Death Warning [ Their Note: Super fun timeline to follow! Well... Not fun, this fic made me cry, but I loved how the story was told! Please, its a must read!]

Soul Bound by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

7K/Oneshot- It is written by Andy. I trust it. [Their Note:  One of the best soulmate fanfiction out there, its not fully angst, but it is there in some parts! (USJ I see ya) this one is more like Hizashi and Shouta angst though].

you are my sunshine by chimera (emptyheadspace)

5K/Completed- Ha. Ha. I see the title and the MCD Warning... Someone here is not afraid of that warning [Their Note:  I mean, the title already tells you that this sadder than mufasa's death. 5+1 type of fic (I love the format so I loved this one even more!)]

I'm Sorry, I'm Not Sorry by Tabs

1K/Oneshot- It does say happy ending tho [Their Note: And yis.... Short and sad, read it!]

Shout & Mute by ill go with that then (Linelenagain)

9K/Oneshot- Body swap, you have my curiosity and attention [Their Note:  Ok this one is not angst angst, but is more like Aizawa finally realizing the hardships that Hizashi must have (and is going through) because of his quirk thanks to a bodyswap! :D (love this one aye)]

A Gift of Sunshine by Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter

35K/Completed- It’s Andy again! Hi sir, I’m a fan. The concept seems interesting [Their Note: Ok so... In this fic Hizashi is a sword and Aizawa attends UA with him (it? Lol) well, he is more like a soul in a sword, not the swor- meh, just read it. It has some heave angst in some chapters! And its not that long! Reallyyyy good fic]

More Than Just a Smile by ravyn_sinclair

7K/Oneshot- -heavy breathing- I see BAMF Hizashi in the tags. BAMF HIZASHI! [Their Note:This is a fic of Hizashi being underestimated and showing everyone that he has some brains/ knows how to be a hero. There is angst by the end of the fic~ this piece of writing is just- a masterpiece. Kudos to the writer!]

Improbable Botany 101 by Tierfal 

46K/Complete- [Their Note: OKAY! A HANAHAKI THAT IS JUST 💕💞💖 its longish? Not that much, you'll finish it in an hour or so, but is just sooooo gooooooood! Amazing hanahaki angst! I love how they show us the feelings and thoughts of the characters].

6:15 by dadzawa_of_1a

3K/Oneshot- [Their Note: So great! I loved this one! And its very well written! Its a quick read so please just go go go go!].

I thought we'd last forever by orphan_account

1K/Oneshot- MCD Warning [Their Note: Great fic my dear! And very sad... Mind the tags :'"c]

Ice It by Say_Jay

3K/Oneshot- Oh! I’ve read this one! It’s so cute. I was looking for it when I was doing the Hizashi whump list, but I hadn’t bookmarked it! Now I have! Gosh I hate losing fics, thanks for bringing it over [Their Note:  Its more like... Comfort after getting hurt? But meh, angst anyway sbdbjdbd However, I think that everyone in the erasermic fandom is familiar with this short masterpiece].

Dust in the Wind by d_lynx

Sleep and Sweet Tea by d_lynx

2K/Series-  [Their Note: Ok this one is just pure angst. A very short concentrated bomb of angst. It does have a happy continuation though! So you can go and check that].

Guillotine by existentialrat

4K/Ongoing- !!! 👀 Do I have anything to do with the origin of this fic? I see the author’s note there. I’ll wait~ [Their Note: Hizashi is with hanahaki! Ohnooo! Dnjdbdj well well, this one is not finished, but there is one chapter left so... You can choose to either wait or just start reading it. Oboro lives in this one though!]

Honest with You by astrange_one

8K/Completed- [Their Note:  Hizashi gets insecure after having an encounter with his past foster parents :c babyyyyy. He suffers so much mentally speaking in this one]

Needle-thin Tightrope by Dramaticdragon

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Another insecure Hizashi! This one is short but ohhh amazing!]

Lost and Found by TheWiseMansFear

16K/Ongoing- Last Update: April 2020 [Their Note: Hizashi is tortured but refuses to tell why! Its not finished! And the updates are slow, but is very good, read under your own risk].

Day 3: Unexpected/Revelation by presentedmic

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Great fic! Shouta tells Shinsou about the time he almost lost Hizashi! Cutecutecute and angsty!]

Desolate by maplebee

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note:  A short very angsty fic... Almost made me cry, this one did].

With You by maplebee

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Short and sad as well, this author is great with making you feel stuff in less than 1k].

Accidentally Forever by Arkham_Cat

1K/Oneshot- I skimmed through it, it seems mild with no Mature content [Their Note: Short Omegaverse, shows how Shouta accidentally marked Hizashi. Its angst? But not very heavy angst, soft angst? Dunno. And is short as well! So I would recommend it if u want a quick read!].

Sunshine Boy by MarziPanda95

40K/Completed-  MarziPanda again! Hmmm 👀 [Their Note: We all know that Marzipanda95 is a goddess of Hizashi Angst, and this fic is one of her greatest masterpieces! Please! This is a must read!!! Recently completed].

Even As I'm Busted And Broken by Tippytap

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Ok... Short but sad, Hizashi is finally overwhelmed. Mind the tags please]

(Don't Ever) Stop Talking by WritingStarsIntoConstellations

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Aizawa messes up by using his quirk on Hizashi! They are teens in this one~]

Kintsugi (Broken & Fixed) by DarklingMoon

12K/Completed- [Their Note: Another 5+1 cause god knows I love them so much! Its a great fic filled with angssttttttt... Read it lol]

Lemon Boy by modernmint

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Short! Focuses on the phobia that Hizashi has with bugs and the relationship of the boys! They are teens in here].

Five Times Present Mic Apologized (And One Time He Didn't Have To) by BurningTheSapphires (MyStShSh)

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Features villain present mic! Is not mostly angst but it has...] Good ending? I hope.

Sixty Seven by AcroArdent 

1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: This is just short erasermic angst. Featuring villain aizawa!]

Waiting For You to Call My Name by Purplemerald

2K/Oneshot-  [Their Note: I mean, you tell me "Hizashi angst" and I think of this fic, short, painful, a must read].

Snapshot by LipstickVenom

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Insecure of his body image Hizashi :c ]

Five Stages of Grief by NeitherDeadnorAlive

3K/Ongoing- I saw no MCD warning. [Their Note:  Hizashi is trapped with some civilians under loads of rubble! Rescate mission ensues! And huh... Its not finished, but its some great angst thooo]

Musical Vibrations by Rose_Cat

1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Hizashi gets deafened :c ]

Letting Go by Zombieisms

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: Hizashi is comatose].

Dangerous by AutisticWriter

1K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Little kid shinsou and hizashi bonding over their time at the orphanage].

One Last Time by CoolPandr

<1K/Oneshot- MCD [Their Note: Aizawa Mourning our sunshine boy :c short and painful]

You're Late! by AnotherWeirdoHere

<1K/Oneshot- MCD. I didn’t even read it but the title and the summary alone pained enough of a picture to make me choke. These concepts hit me for some reason [Their Note: Short angst! Super cute ending].

Too Loud and Too Much by doctornemesis

2K/Oneshot-  [Their Note:  Insecure teen hizashi :c someone give this boy a hug].

Just a Push by Say_Jay

5K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Aizawa injures Hizashi while training!]

Everything I Wanted by toshiwoshi

4K/Oneshot-  [Their Note: Hizashi gets misuranderstood and gets his heart broken :c happy ending tho]

Memories by My_Furnace_Has_Wings

2K/Oneshot- MCD Omg... [Their Note: Ok this is erasermic family angst... Suuuuper sad, this author is great.]

Actions Speak Louder than Words by My_Furnace_Has_Wings

<1K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Teen erasermic confession with angst! Really good ^^]

Mr loverman by popweezle

1K/Oneshot- Angst with a freaking Happy Ending tag. Finally I am getting super depressed with these scenarios I am reading here. Good God. [Their Note: Another comatose Hizashi~]

first love / late spring by pgsaihara

1K/Oneshot-  [Their Note: Erasermic angst, insecure Aizawa makes Hizashi upset :c ]

Needle-thin Tightrope by Dramaticdragon

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Another insecure about his volume hizashi :c poor baby but I kinda get him].

Small Hiding places by IsTheMedia

2K/Oneshot- Part of Villain!Mic [Their Note:  Part of villain Hizashi series! But can be read alone... Implied child abuse, mind the tags].

(dis)trust by Cat_Tac

4K/Oneshot- TW: Sexual assault (doesn’t get far, but it is the basis of the plot). Mentioned this one in previous ask, but let’s put it in this huge pile too [Their Note:  MIND THE TAGS PLEASE, this can be triggering. Hizashi is assaulted at work and feels guilty].

Be grateful, hero by SaltywithSarcasm

2K/Oneshot- [Their Note: Hizashi is kidnapped and tortured]

Tenacity by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land

23K/Oneshot- [Their Note:  Ok so... This is more Aizawa centric? But there is some amazing hizashi angst at the end! (Another 5+1 fic!)]

Déjà vu by douchegrayson

9K/Completed- Mentioned this one before too. I really love its concept so much [Their Note: Everyone forgets hizashi thanks to a quirk! Our poor boy is desolated :c ]

Stay With Me by MintIceTea

2K/Completed- [Their Note:  Erasermic angst and fluff!]

Engagement by fecklessphilanderer

8K/Completed- [Their Note:  Hizashi falls off a building, fluffy ending!]

Note: In all of these, make sure to read the tags please, in case there are any themes you’re uncomfortable with. I have not yet read most of these, so once more you’re gonna have to look out for yourselves. 🙏

[sylvanfreckles]

Fever Dreams

Summary: Castiel caught a bad chest cold and Sam stayed behind to look after him.

Just some soft times with these two, because I don't give them enough time together.

The Flare 'Verse, if you're not familiar with it, started Here and continued Here. Basically, Cas is human because Naomi burned his grace out in a ritual to elevate herself to a higher level. It's left him with scars and chronic pain, and the Winchesters are doing their best to take care of him. I'm still working on the first chronological story, but this one grabbed me and wouldn't let go.

...

Sam looked up from his book as the blankets on the bed rustled. He waited for a few seconds until the figure in the bed shifted around again, then set his book aside and gently pulled the blankets down enough to reveal Cas's tousled hair and pinched face.

He rested the back of his hand on the ex-angel's forehead, frowning a little at the temperature, then carded his fingers through the dark hair until he reached Cas's neck. The muscles there were tight, and Sam gently rubbed his thumb back and forth while he half-sat on the bed to be closer.

“Just a dream, Cas,” he murmured. “You're home safe. Just a dream.” It was just the two of them in the bunker at the moment—Dean was on a case, Eileen was meeting up with some old friends, and Jack was still trying to find something to help Cas's condition.

A sympathetic smile crept across his face when Cas's eyes cracked open, only to turn to a grimace of concern when the dark-haired man started coughing.

“Up you get, come on.” He slid one arm behind Cas's shoulders and gently pulled the other man up, then fumbled for the box of tissues to pass a handful to Cas.

The ex-angel might have muttered his thanks, but the tissues were pressed against his mouth as he leaned against Sam and coughed. Sam winced in sympathy and gently rubbed his friend's back, careful to avoid the sensitive scars left by Naomi's ritual.

“Ready to eat something?”

Cas shook his head and just leaned his weight against Sam. They didn't know if it was because of the way his grace had been burned out of him or just a consequence of taking human form, but Cas had trouble maintaining his body temperature now. He usually ended up curled up against the closest warm thing, whether that be a heating pad or a Winchester.

“C'mon, Cas,” Sam pleaded. “If you don't eat something Dean will never leave us alone again. He texted a dozen times while you were asleep, I'm surprised he didn't ask for a picture so he could make sure I was tucking you in the right way.”

That earned him a snort of laughter, and Sam gently pushed himself off the bed and started to lay Cas back down. “I'll bring you something, okay?”

“Wait,” Cas, voice still crackling with congestion, caught Sam's sleeve in one hand. “Not here.”

Sam raised his eyebrows high enough that he felt his hairline shift. “You need to rest, Cas. This is the best place for that.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably and stared up at Sam, somehow managing to look far too pathetic, even for a chronically ill ex-angel with a chest cold. “I need to move. I feel...confined.”

He understood that, a little. Dean could be a mother hen sometimes, and a chest cold rarely needed strict bedrest. Besides, the TV room had a deep, comfortable couch now, and Cas could rest there.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Sam offered as he helped tug the blankets away from Cas's legs. “We've still got the rest of that documentary series on deep-sea plant and animal life.”

They'd been actually really fun to watch together. When he'd been an angel, Cas had liked to venture to the depths of the ocean to study the patterns of life there, and there had been a few times he'd actually recognized the filming locations from personal experience. Sam had also ordered another set of documentaries on the ancient world, but that was mostly so Cas could point out the errors and explain everything the archaeologists were getting wrong. It was one of the things Dean rolled his eyes about and called them nerds, but they were all secretly pleased to see Cas's enthusiasm after those first long months of pain.

Sam started to hook his arm under Cas's legs to carry him out of the room, but the ex-angel waved him off and scooted to the edge of the bed on his own. So Sam stood back and held his arm out, bent at the elbow, so Cas could use it to pull himself to his feet and steady himself to walk.

“How is Dean?” Cas asked as they shuffled down the hall.

“He's pretending to be mad it's the library that's haunted and not the gym,” Sam said with a shake of his head. Dean took it personally when kids were in danger, and word of a poltergeist at a middle school had him out the door in less than an hour. “I think he's more relieved it's a spirit and not a psychic phenomenon.”

“And no one's around for his Ghostbusters references,” Cas added blandly.

Sam had to laugh. “Those too. 'Imagine, Sammy, a ghost in a library and it's not even an old lady',” he said, pitching his voice a little lower to imitate his brother.

“'He slimed me',” Cas whined, though it dissolved into a cough and they had to pause while the ex-angel caught his breath. “'They're here' might be more appropriate.”

“He's got to stop making you watch those movies,” Sam shook his head as they squeezed through the door to the TV room (not Dean Cave. Never calling it that). “This whole 'Hunting 101', it's not how it works. Real hunting isn't anything like that.”

Cas didn't answer until he was settled on one side of the u-shaped couch, sitting up in one corner so he was facing the TV with his legs stretched out along one leg of the couch.

“Isn't that what makes it entertaining?” he finally asked, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and leaning back into the cushions.

Sam bit back his first reaction. This was Cas. Cas had been an angel for millennia before his grace had been torn out of him and left him with this frail mortal body. As much as his friend might seem innocent or naive at times, he still knew how to separate fact from fiction. “Sorry.”

“Just don't let Jack see them,” Cas continued, and Sam had to laugh at that. God...or demi-god? Elevated nephilim? Something more? Anyway, powerful though Jack might be, Sam wasn't sure he could ever see him as more than that wide-eyed kid who just wanted his father.

“I'll be right back,” he promised, patting Cas on the shoulder. There would be cream of chicken soup and apple slices in the fridge, and that would be enough to satisfy Dean the next time his older brother checked in.

Maybe.

…

They were forty-five minutes into a documentary about the Great Barrier Reef when Sam noticed Cas was shifting uncomfortably in his place on the couch.

“Cas?” Sam paused the movie and half-turned on the couch to study his friend. “You okay? Need to go back to bed?” He was sitting beside him, close enough to touch if Cas needed help, but did his best to make sure his friend didn't feel too crowded.

Cas shook his head, but Sam could still tell something was wrong. He had drank the entire mug of soup and eaten almost all of the apple slices Sam had brought, so he probably wasn't hungry. He wasn't due for more cold medicine for over an hour. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

There was a heavy sigh, then Cas slumped against the couch. “It's cold.”

Cold. They'd learned to hate that word. If Cas got too cold he could have one of those awful flares of pain, and end up curled up and miserable for hours. They tried to head it off by tucking him back in bed with hot water bottles and heating pads, but he'd actually been enjoying sitting on the couch to watch a movie so Sam was reluctant to pack him away in his isolated bedroom.

“Hang on, here.” Sam scooted closer and tugged Cas's blanket free. He slid one arm behind his friend's back and tucked Cas in close against him before spreading the blanket back over the two of them. “One Winchester heating pad, at your service.”

“Sam...”

“Hey, I have body heat to spare,” Sam teased. “Come on.”

Cas was still reluctant. “You might get sick.”

“I might get it anyway,” he replied. “Colds get passed around, Cas, that's the truth of it.”

There were a few more seconds of hesitation, then Cas practically melted against him. They spent a few moments rearranging themselves on the couch, ending up with Sam propping one foot on the side of the couch next to Cas's legs with his arm around Cas's shoulders, and Cas leaning his head on Sam's shoulder until his hair almost brushed the tall hunter's neck.

“This isn't personal space?” Cas asked. He probably didn't mean to sound so pathetic, it was just the cold making his voice croak like that.

“I don't have personal space,” Sam joked. “You think I could live in the car with Dean for so long if I did?”

Cas seemed to consider that, then nodded and seemed to relax even further against Sam. “He's very sensitive about such things,” he murmured sleepily.

“What's that?”

In answer, Cas mumbled something into Sam's collarbone. Sam glanced down, grinning when he realized Cas had fallen asleep almost as soon as they'd gotten re-settled. He left the documentary paused and reached for his book, figuring it was time to get a few more chapters in.

His phone buzzed on the couch beside him and he picked it up, seeing yet another text from Dean.

“Hey, Dean wants to know how you're feeling,” he whispered to Cas.

Cas grunted, face still buried in Sam's shoulder. “Sie koennen hier nicht Baseball spielen.”

Sam bit back a snort of laughter. “No baseball,” he agreed. Cas talking in other languages in his sleep was nothing new, though at least it was German this time and Sam could almost understand him. He texted back that Cas had eaten and was sleeping, then after another moment's thought held the camera out and took a selfie.

He looked the picture over with a smile before sending it off to Dean. In it Sam was leaning back against the couch with a big grin on his face, and Cas had his face squashed into Sam's shoulder, already sleeping so hard he was practically drooling.

Setting the phone face-down on the couch, he picked his book back up and ignored the repeated vibrations of his brother's reply messages. Cas was all right, Dean needed to focus on his case, and he really wanted to get through another chapter or two before he had to wake Cas for his next dose of medicine.

“No baseball,” he repeated, squeezing Cas's shoulders in a sideways hug. “Just get some rest.”

...

End notes:

The first two quotations Sam and Cas say are from the first Ghostbusters movie, and the second one Cas says is from the Poltergeist movie.

“Sie koennen hier nicht Baseball spielen.” - rough German translation of "You can't play baseball here". I used an online translator, so I apologize if it's incorrect. It's not a line from anything, I just wanted some random dream-talk. (Now corrected thanks to the lovely @slipper007! I couldn't do accents in my word processor, so thanks for the alternate spelling! I'll remember that!)