#but this gifset wouldn't leave my brain

[beachy--head]

I didn't plan on writing a Christmas drabble this year, but then @babyjapril posted the most perfect gifset and it inspired this little Japril Christmas movie AU. Hope you'll enjoy, and happy holidays to you all!

___

Christmas in Bozeman, Montana, is always a treat, and even more since April moved away for med school and then for work. Seattle is not that far, and she tries to visit her family as often as she can, but there’s something special about the town during the Christmas season. She absolutely loves spotting the Christmas lights in the streets as she makes her way to her parents’ property, the snowy mountains offering a picture-perfect background for the season.

This year is no exception, meeting all her requirements for a perfect Christmas. At home, the lights in the Kepner’s Christmas tree are sparkling, there are so many wrapped gifts under the stockings that opening them on Christmas morning would surely take hours, and her mother spends most of the time in the kitchen, making treats and baked goods at the speed of light. 

A few hours after she arrives, April finds herself already in the kitchen. As she helps her mother add a layer of white frosting on some cookies freshly out of the oven, Karen Kepner starts listing a few last-minute details about the festivities. “Oh, and you know Robert Avery, who owns the Jefferson grill in the city outskirts? Tall, blue eyes, makes the most perfect cup of coffee? Well, his son is visiting him for the holidays, for the first time in forever, apparently. He’s a doctor too, you know! Lives in New York, or Boston, or somewhere East. So I invited them both for Christmas Eve, because the man shouldn’t have to cook on Christmas, he already does it enough during the year, and he helped your dad once with the tractor, remember? So I thought–”, and at that point, April, used to tune her mother out when she starts rambling, offers a few “yeah” and “is that so?” now and then, and thinks no more of it. 

The next day, she meets Jackson, Robert Avery’s prodigal son. At her mother’s insistence, she plays the part of the perfect tour guide and shows him everything Bozeman has to offer, she takes a few walks with him around town and laughs when he admits he’s not much of an outdoor man, they even sit down once in the cold, watching people skate on the ice rink and sharing stories about surgeries and their respective hospitals (Boston’s Mass Gen seems way more peaceful than Seattle Grace Mercy West) before she dutifully walks him back to the Jefferson Grill. Robert Avery is a sweetheart, so she’s not surprised that his son is as charming, and they hit it off as much as two big city outsiders in a small town can. His laugh when she offers him anecdotes about her years in Bozeman warm her heart, and she finds out she actually looks forward to Christmas Eve, even if it means her sisters taking a dig at her for daring to be a single, twenty-something surgeon living alone a few states away and her mother insisting she eats her weight in stuffing.

Christmas Eve is magical, Robert Avery regaling them with tales from his youth, Jackson complimenting her mother’s cooking skills and having a second helping of everything, her father looking at the whole family with a wide smile, and for a few perfect hours, she truly feels the Christmas cheer she always hopes to find when she comes back home. 

And then her overactive imagination just has to ruin it.

After dinner, everyone gathers around the fireplace, swapping stories she must have heard a hundred times. She loves her family, she really does, but she needs a break, so she goes to the kitchen and sets out to get a head start on the dishes. Jackson volunteers to help out, drying the plates she washes, and they soon talk and laugh like they haven’t just met four short days ago. They only stop when she washes the last of the plates, and she doesn’t know what happens, but his fingers lightly brush her arm as he takes the plate from her hands, and she shivers. His touch is electric, and she raises her head, finding his eyes already on her. His hand find her again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she can’t help but stare at him. 

From the living room, she hears her parents exclaim that it’s time they get a move on or they’re going to be late for midnight mass, another cherished Kepner tradition, and the moment is gone. Jackson snaps out of his trance and steps backwards, shaking his head, and it’s not long before he and his father leave, his eyes avoiding her as he profusely thanks her mother for her generosity. 

So much for a perfect Christmas holiday.

She goes to bed, feeling confused and, she’s adult enough to admit it, disappointed. And because she’s April Kepner, she soon starts to feel extremely annoyed with herself. She always does this, having huge expectations that don’t go well when confronted to reality, and she’s a fool for thinking that this time would be different. That a fancy, handsome surgeon would play his part in the Christmas movie she’s apparently written in her head, and act out cliché moments under the Christmas lights. 

The next morning, waking up before everyone else, she quickly dresses up and goes for a short walk to try to clear her head. Still replaying the moment in the kitchen in her mind, she takes comfort in the fact that she’s due to go back to Seattle in a few days. She’s not going to let her delusional brain ruin what is otherwise a perfect Christmas, thank you very much, and she can easily avoid Jackson Avery until then and not make a fool of herself.

Well, it would be easier to avoid him if he wasn’t standing in her parents’ driveway as she comes back from her walk.

His eyes seem clearer than ever, and she manages a small smile, hoping he’ll credit the cold for her blushing cheeks. She stares at him a few seconds too long before she remembers her manners. 

“Hi, um, did you forget anything yesterday?”

“Actually, I did,” he answers in the low voice he seems to use just for her, and she really wishes her body would stop reacting so strongly to his presence.

The snow starts to fall just then, but she barely registers it, because she can’t tear her gaze away from him. He gets closer to her, shakes his head with a soft smile on his lips, as if he can’t believe what he’s doing, and slowly raises his hand to hold her neck. 

Their lips touch, hesitantly at first, then more insistently, and as they kiss for what seems like hours under the falling snow, she can honestly say that this Christmas is definitely a perfect one.

[fallynleaf-gifs]

NOAH One Night Dream | Go Shiozaki & El Hijo del Dr. Wagner Jr. vs Jake Lee & Kenoh

July 15, 2023

Jake Lee got Go Shiozaki a little flustered during the clean break and Go had to take a moment to snap himself out of it. After the match, Jake chided Go on twitter for blushing, which prompted Go to apologize to him for it.

[4o4notf0und]

to be honest I don't care and when has he ever really left dead weight behind? he did said that to mayday but did he really left him? no. he carried him back. And he was just telling Omega that he'd be leaving her without a second thought in the hope that she'd escape if she had the chance.

[hollybell51]

Don't bet on it

Navigation

Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?” 

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful. 

“(Y/N)?” 

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine. 

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?” 

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?” 

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added. 

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.” 

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.” 

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression. 

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly. 

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once. 

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink. 

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily. 

You smiled. “Lemonade.” 

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently. 

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter. 

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly. 

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed. 

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.” 

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip. 

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.” 

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left. 

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them? 

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.” 

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it. 

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you. 

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing. 

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing. 

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows. 

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him. 

“It is.” 

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.” 

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.” 

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright” 

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking. 

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you. 

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.” 

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?” 

“No, we’ve got two singles.” 

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.” 

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.” 

“I know, but–” 

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

“What’s that supposed to–” 

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.” 

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed. 

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?” 

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.” 

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant. 

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now. 

“Would you like some help?” 

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you. 

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.” 

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched. 

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault. 

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab. 

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.” 

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.” 

“Should I keep going?” 

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad. 

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead. 

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.” 

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.” 

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you. 

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?” 

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer. 

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to. 

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his. 

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade. 

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound. 

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright. 

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it. 

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.” 

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses. 

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing. 

He looked up, frowning. “What?” 

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.” 

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside. 

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive. 

You nodded. “Are you?”  

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters. 

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused. 

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?” 

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering. 

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.” 

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…” 

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed. 

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.” 

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.” 

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away. 

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?” 

He nodded. 

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he murmured. 

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him? 

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him. 

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment. 

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. 

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.” 

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?” 

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked. 

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.” 

He stared. “Do you want to?” 

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath… 

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?” 

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.” 

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you. 

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life. 

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?” 

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?” 

“Mhm.”  

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that. 

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful. 

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake. 

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.” 

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning. 

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before. 

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to. 

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that. 

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out. 

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…” 

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled. 

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.” 

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes. 

“Mhm?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?” 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Alright?” 

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.” 

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip. 

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat. 

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?” 

You smiled. “Magic word?” 

“Please,” he practically growled. 

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute. 

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–” 

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.  

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.” 

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair. 

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.” 

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless. 

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.” 

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright. 

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face. 

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting. 

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?” 

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?” 

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.” 

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.” 

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning. 

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on. 

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath. 

“Is this alright?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Mhm.” 

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body. 

“Mhm.” 

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most. 

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.” 

“I want you to feel–” 

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?” 

“But I’m–” 

“Cas.” 

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you. 

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.” 

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy. 

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit. 

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves. 

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked. 

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Yes, Cas, just like that.” 

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.” 

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly. 

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good? 

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully. 

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps. 

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?” 

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing. 

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said. 

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine. 

Cas froze immediately. 

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.” 

“Is this not–” 

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs. 

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small. 

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. 

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.” 

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.” 

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged. 

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable. 

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.” 

“I don’t want to squash you.” 

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.” 

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?” 

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out. 

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.” 

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed. 

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock. 

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours. 

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?” 

He swallowed, his eyes dark. 

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.” 

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.” 

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide. 

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time. 

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?” 

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name. 

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.  

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that. 

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs. 

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!” 

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra. 

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer. 

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm. 

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment. 

“Hm?” 

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.” 

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.” 

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be. 

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch. 

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat. 

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed. 

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?” 

After a moment, he nodded. 

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again. 

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.” 

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?” 

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty. 

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.” 

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.” 

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him. 

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much. 

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile. 

“Hello.” 

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).” 

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?” 

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.” 

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully. 

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…” 

He waited, watching you stumble over your words. 

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely. 

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.” 

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen. 

“What do you want?” you growled. 

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?” 

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.” 

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?” 

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked. 

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden. 

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt. 

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.” 

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”  

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.” 

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question. 

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier. 

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point. 

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!” 

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. 

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing. 

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.” 

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam? 

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck. 

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.” 

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. 

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?” 

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything. 

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.” 

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.” 

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.” 

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared. 

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.” 

“No? Who else?” 

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now. 

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.  

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.” 

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all. 

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas. 

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.” 

“No, I mean–” 

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.” 

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?” 

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug. 

Cas frowned. “Told him what?” 

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!” 

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.” 

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?” 

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas. 

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.” 

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.” 

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?” 

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.” 

“Mhm, back at Stanford–” 

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.” 

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.” 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.” 

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly. 

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back. 

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.” 

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

[spookbot]

it wouldn't leave my brain so i went for it

original gifset by @ gothprentiss with my apologies in advance

[crumb]

okay okay so re: this post about this gifset

tell me what you think--did Benson plan on killing everybody in the restaurant? did he plan on killing himself after? did he expect to spare Randy, or was he on the fence? was he gunning for Chris and Chris alone and anticipating having to improvise?

I just love the way this scene plays out and how, despite the horrific violence, there's still something undeniably human about Benson as he goes about it. I would LOVE to hear your take!!

Holy shit my response is so long and rambling I'm so so sorry but uhhhh here's my thoughts under a cut to save people's dashboards from my dumb brain 🙈

Omg so yes this is something I think about ALL the time. Chris is, of course, a definite 100%. He was basically dead the moment he grabbed Benson's shoulder and said "...I'll have no problem turning your peaceful redneck existence into a living hell..." Benson warned him, gave him a chance to back down from bullying Randy, but Chris doubled down so RIP lol. Which was the spark that lit the first fuse.

The rest I think may have been improvised a bit but not by much. I think he planned on killing everyone, except Randy, but wasn't sure how exactly it would all go down. There's a chance Hardy might not have heard Jess screaming and never come out of the back. Which that alone I find funny that it was Jess' shrieking and not the two shotgun blasts that managed to rip him away from his morning jerk off session. So Benson might have planned on getting Hardy in the office by surprise after doing in Chris and Jess.

Jess is interesting because Benson tries to quiet her first before getting frustrated and shooting her to shut her up. Like, was bro gonna give her some speech before offing her? I wouldn't be surprised. Something about not dating entitled dickheads? I get why some people think he might not have killed her if she stopped screaming, which is a fair theory! But I also think she's been clearly joining in on the bullying and egging on Chris with her little comments and giggling like she had been earlier that morning. So I think she was already firmly on his kill list by that point, plus she would have no use to him other than being another witness—and the whole thing wasn't about her, it was about Randy, so dragging her around with them, or leaving her behind, would be pointless and risky.

Randy Randy Randy. I don't think he ever intended on killing Randy at any point, except maybe there being the risk of it happening when he was shaken after the whole Sheppard situation. At that point, Benson was so out of his own body I think almost anything could've happened, though ultimately I don't think that would've ever been on purpose, only in a knee-jerk reaction. I do think it was a liiittle bit of a test. I think Benson, like he said in the diner (the first round lol) that seeing Randy just stand there doing nothing and waiting for Benson to kill him was the only thing he believed in. He, like Benson mentioned, had been watching Randy and knew he was smart, but also knew he wouldn't do anything to stop what was happening. But I think a small part of him was hoping he would be proved wrong, hoping Randy would do something and show some agency.

And then there's Benson. I've mentioned this before but yeah, I think throughout the film he kinda goes back and forth on having a deathwish. I think when he's having his smoke and probably semi-planning what he's gonna do he is also fully aware that this is the end of the road for him and Randy is his... I don't know, I guess one last chance at redemption before ending things. Pulling Randy back from the brink of dead-end small town small thinking monotony is his like... last hurrah. Ok well maybe killing Chris and everyone is really the last hurrah, but helping Randy figure his shit out is like his last good deed, helping Randy not end up like him. When they're driving to the diner after cleaning up BBB he's in high spirits. The relaxation and acceptance phase of his road to inevitable death/suicide. But then as things progress and he learns more about Randy and everything, once they reach the school, I think at that point he had stepped back from the ledge and was thinking, maybe wishfully thinking, that he could make it out of there. But then Sheppard had to show up and ruin everything. I think Benson had started to think that maybe things could be alright, if only he could get Randy to Ms. Beard's, get that checked off the to-do list, and then they could try escaping. But Sheppard appears and reminds Benson that no matter what he can never escape. He'll never escape what happened to him, the things he's tried to forget, or who he is. So at that point it's like trying to save a sandcastle from an incoming tide. There's no use. Benson didn't have the tools to deal with seeing Sheppard, especially not on a day like that day when he had already spilled blood three times. Chris and them, maybe they deserved it to an extent in Benson's eyes, but no one deserved it more than Sheppard. So after Sheppard he's given himself whiplash. He had accepted his death, then got hopeful, and then had the ceiling cave in on him causing him to have to re-accept his fate, though not as steadfast. There's a few points after Sheppard where it feels like Benson is mentally clawing at the oncoming events in panic. Ms. Beard getting that call and answering it before they could leave. Benson hearing the sirens after Randy calls the cops. Both times it looks like he's reliving some cosmic disappointment like even though he's had to re-accept his fate, he's still desperately looking for an off-ramp. I think that's maybe what Benson means at the end. "I was never in charge, Randy." His fate or inevitable end was in charge and was something he'd already considered set in stone. Though I think that's also due to some self-sabotage. Like Randy tried to tell him, he had the opportunity to just run and never look back but instead decided to go on some self-assigned white knight quest for Randy in circles around town. Following some perceived path to "fix" Randy in ways Benson could never fix himself. Benson is a walking self-fulfilling prophecy. So to answer your question about whether I think Benson planned on killing himself after killing Chris, Jess, and Hardy (and after "helping Randy")—in my opinion, yes, I believe so. But I also think it switches back and forth from yes to no like 15 times between them leaving BBB and watching the cops pull into the diner parking lot that night, lol.

[bogkeep]

the post i intended to write:

[flirting] hey wanna watch princess mononoke with me

what i intended to write in the tags but is long enough to become its own essay:

howls moving castle is a transgender comfort movie for sure and spirited away is absolutely a classic but princess mononoke is My ghibli movie. i saw it for the first time as a single digit age child when the czech dub played on TV and i was probably too young for it, but because Animated Movie = Kid's Movie i ended up absorbing the most violent animated movie i had ever seen and i think it permanently changed my brain chemistry and i regret nothing, i was so deeply enamored with the large forest and its godly beasts, i was entrenched in the narrative of the curse that slowly swallows you up, and of course san was the coolest character i had ever seen in my entire short life and i had several OCs inspired by her vibe and design and several others ended up with similar face markings, like who out there is immune to feral wolfgirl with Knives? not me that's for certain. none of my friends had seen this movie and over the years i was starting to feel like maybe it didn't exist? how could something that left such a huge impact on me not make a dent in the world around me? does nobody remember the giant wolves and the moss covered forest and all the wriggly curse worms?? BUT THEN i found the dvd in a norwegian cd shop and the norwegian dub was out of sync and it didn't have a norwegian subtitle track so i'd have to watch it with swedish subtitles, which i did many many times, and one time some czech guys were visiting while i was watching and went heeeey it's princess mononoke! good movie!! and i felt tethered to reality again. i keep coming back to this movie and every time i understand it a little more, because of course a small child such as myself wouldn't understand much of the plot beyond Angy Wolf Girl Go Grrrrrr, and the more i watch it the more i find myself relating to ashitaka even though he didn't make as much of an impression on me as Cool Wolf Princess did the first time, and the world is cursed but we find reasons to keep living, and i know the "i'll slit your throat" "you're beautiful" scene is Iconic but almost every screenshot or redraw or gifset leaves out how san drops the knife and recoils as if the vulnerability of the confession will burn her, and maybe it's just very easy to Get me with two outcasts who can't fit in fully anywhere anymore find eachother storyline but yeah anyway i rewatched this movie the other day and it's still really good

[colourme-feral]

✨2023: A Summary✨

Post your most popular and/or favourite edit/gifset/analysis for each month (it’s okay to skip months!)

Thanks to @lurkingshan for the tag! This is a pretty great way to do a wrap up of posts for the year past.

January

most popular — the NLMG title cards post (but tbh, I liked the idea, but not the calligraphy lol)

favourite — I identified one of my favourite locations

February

most popular — MLC and the chin tickles saga

favourite(s) — NLMG and some of its visual parallels and MLC and the passing of time

March

most popular — understandably, this post on MLC and some of its details

favourite — this post about chains of heart 😂😂😂

April

most popular — the use of light and warmth in ODT / Bokura no Shokutaku

favourite — brutalist architecture in Lockwood & Co. made my brain go brrr

May

most popular — (it was actually a poll, so I ignored that post) the very pride and prejudice of step by step

favourite — I was mad at Yutaka's parents for how they dealt with their adoption of him. Still valid to me

June

most popular — (again ignoring the poll) in an honestly shocking and unexpected twist, I actually considered the tops that Chot and Pat were wearing and what they might have meant

favourite(s) — the looks that minoru gives looking at yutaka talking to tane and part 2 of the Step by Step and Pride and Prejudice parallels

July

most popular — the hopes we had for kissing gmm grandpas in Hidden Agenda dashed by gmm

favourite(s) — this scene in Khun Chai that wouldn't leave my mind, leaving me not choice but to scream about it a year after watching the show and also my first loa/khun chai parallels post. If you listen carefully, you might still hear me screaming.

August

most popular — the packet of rice in loa

favourite(s) — the 2 part shared + spotted locations post for Baan Bellawin because it was so much work (part 1, part 2) but I guess I need to also do a shout out to the ifylita locations post for Yai's home

September

most popular — Troye Sivan's Got Me Started and its shared locations with Thai qls. This is actually the post I got the most notes for in 2023. really proud of it.

favourite(s) — loa brainrot so I made a loa parallels post, also loa and khun chai parallels post #2, another ifylita locations post for dear ol' robbo's home and genius chef junior (and then she cried)

October

most popular — I'm just gonna say that the best part of Zong Yi's cake shop are the catz. This post is also more proof that tumblr loves cats

favourite — @lurkingshan 's ask about my favourite location from a drama, which I used to do an entire list of locations I'd like to visit if I were in Bangkok, referencing some of my locations irl posts

November

most popular — Old Fashion Cupcake and its manga parallels, inspired by @troubled-mind. So fun to do!

favourite — I identified Babe's controversial house. I like it, but I know some people were screaming - and not in a good way 😂

December

most popular — I saw parallels between NLMG and Last Twilight and ran with it

favourite(s) — @my-rose-tinted-glasses was very kind to indulge me and asked for my favourite irl locations of 2023. I also couldn't help myself and started posting Last Twilight and Open Spaces. Excited about continuing these and also writing about these once I'm back home.

I'm sure some have already been tagged, but no pressure tags for @blmpff, @my-rose-tinted-glasses, @neuroticbookworm, @respectthepetty, @sparklyeyedhimbo, @telomeke, @troubled-mind and anyone else who might be interested!

This site was helpful for showing the top 10 posts of each month.

[gamerism]

😎

Top. 5. yakuza/rgg quotes? I know there are probably Many, but I am Curious. And you know what, who said honorable mentions can't be included too lol.

This one goes out to the translation team ig. Wouldn't be here without them ect ect. There probably are a lot of honourable mentions because this series has a lot of great moments but I'll contain myself to the 5.

5. "No point? You're just makin' things harder on yourself. Deprivin' yourself for no damn reason. You think the world gives two shits if there's a point or not? Keep that up and it'll break you." -Majima YK/1

(And doesn't it just? Doesn't this exact thing break Kiryu down piece by piece? That's something I love about a moment that's so early, that was written so long ago. And how it's come to reflect the series as a whole.)

4. "Hamazaki left a message for you before he went. 'Keep the Tojo Clan safe from the cops. It's the only proof left that guys like us ever existed.' [...] It took me forty years to realise this. But for guys like us... our lives aren't really our own. There's always someone new to help. Someone we need to protect. These past few years, I fought that fate with all I had. But I'm done fighting. It's time I accept the hand I was dealt." -Kiryu Y4

(I can't help but think about the Implications whenever I hear this quote and Kiryu's headspace from 4 on, & especially in 6 as well.)

3. "Once you step into the shadows you're stained black for life. No gettin' that mark off ya. But... You can still choose who you bring down with ya." -Majima Y0

(🥲🥲 always so ouchie)

2. "Every girl dreams of becoming a star one day. I wasn't any different. But the reality is I had already found what makes me whole. I thought that if I could make it as an idol...I'd be able to keep the orphanage running. But it came at a cost. I would have to leave behind the very man who raised me. [...] Even though he was unconventional, I could always rely on him. I...I think of him like a father. And I love him. I love him very much. [...]" -Haruka Y5

(I cut this short but this whole speech makes my heart ache so bad. The definition of illogical action done for deep emotional motivation. & Kiryu doesn't get to hear it. 😭)

1. "I'll let you in on a little something, The yakuza game, it's not like boxing. The man who gets beat down isn't the loser. The guy who can't tough it out till the end, he's the one who loses." -Kuze Y0

(Yes I know that's probably obvious considering I used this for a gifset recently, but it's really just stuck in my mind since I first saw it.)

Though speaking of honourable mentions while coming up with this list I did think of a) a late game ishin scene i like a lot but its long, from multiple characters, and i don't actually want to spoil it for people so :)

And b) ishin's final scene probably says something profound at some point but its genuinely 20 minutes of uninterrupted dialogue and my brain fucking groans and turns off whenever i watch it. so.

[everythingoes]

same energy

[chevalier-tialys]

s1e01 || Season 2 BBC Trailer

[effervescentdragon]

something about Arthur and glasses 🤓 with whoever you want, I have no moral compunctions here 😏

hello anon! did you see that gifset of arthur with the glasses and prompt me, because if you did, thats the most valid thing ever 😘 you get arthur x oscar future!fic, because that prema video is living in my mind rent free ever since i watched it and silly season gives me hopes and delusions :) hope you like it!

Arthur is nervous as fuck.

"Calm down, petit, you'll do wonderfully," Charles says for the thousandth time, then leaves to talk to his race engineer. Enzo takes one look at him, rolls his eyes, and sends him outside behind the garage to calm himself down. He thrusts the headphones at Arthur and pushes him towards the back, and Arthur flees.

It's not that Arthur doesn't believe Charles and Enzo when they tell him he'll do well. He has racing in his blood, and Ferrari wouldn't have signed him if they didn't think he could deliver, no matter that his brother is their current champion. It's just that, well, fuck.

It's Ferrari. He can't be chill about driving for Ferrari, for fuck's sake. Only a psycopath could, and Arthur is pretty sure that while he may have some pathology about his relationship with his car (all the drivers do, really, just look at his brother touching the car and that should be clear), he isn't a psychopath. It's just. Ferrari.

He plays the psytrance playlist to calm himself down. It works, it's always worked for him, and the adrenaline pumps in his veins but his mind is starting to calm down, when he notices a shadow in his periphery.

A hand falls on his knee. He can barely feel it through the fireproofs, but when he opens his eyes and sees who is touching him, his skin seems to burn. Brains are funny like that.

"Well, if it isn't Mister Ferrari himself," Oscar says with that smirk of his, and Arthur rolls his eyes automatically.

"That is Charles, actually," he quips back, "he is the champion after all."

Oscar inclines his head. "Fair," he says. Arthur has always liked his accent. "What are you doing here?" He doesn't make any move to remove his hand from Arthur's knee.

"Calming myself down before the race." Arthur shrugs. There is no point lying to Oscar. They know each other too well, ever since their Prema days, and Oscar may even remember how Arthur was before every first race of the season. Only the stakes are now higher for both of them, except Oscar already has some experience, amd Arthur really doesn't.

Oscar hums, tilting his head and not looking away from Arthur. "Why are you nervous?"

Arthur scoffs incredulously.

"Mate," he says. "I'm supposed to drive for fucking Ferrari."

"And I'm driving for fucking McLaren," Oscar replies, then frowns. "It's - yeah, no, you're right, actually. It's fucking scary and - and daunting."

"You're absolutely no help at all," Arthur deadpans, but he can feel himself starting to smile. "Yeah, but you're smiling," Oscar calls him out. Arthur would punch him, but that would mean dislodging Oscar's hand from his knee, and Oscar moving away, and Arthur doesn't really want that.

Arthur doesn't think a lot, or that's what Lorenzo tells him at least. He acts first, letting his brain catch up, if it ever does. It makes him an extremely good racing driver. It also makes him a bit of a disaster of a human being.

The one thing he never let himself act on was whatever was going on between him and Oscar back in 2021. He's not sure if that was the very smart, or the very stupid thing to do.

(Lorenzo would say it was smart, but Lorenzo was a realist and a bore without any sense foe romance, in Arthur's opinion.

Charles would say it was stupid, but Charles was an incurable romantic and in love with his best friend for decades.

Arthur himself just thinks it is what it is, and sometimes, when he lets himself think about it, he regrets.)

"You'll do good," Oscar says suddenly. Arthur raises his head from where he's hunching over to look into his eyes a bit better. "I'll deny this if you ever repeat it, but you were always the best of us."

He presses on Arthur's knee, and Arthur's breathing stutters. There is something in Oscar's eyes that makes him think he's thinking about 2021 too, and he swallows heavily. Oscar's hand doesn't let off.

You're a Ferrari driver now, he thinks. You drive for the best team on the grid.

Cowards don't drive for Ferrari.

"If I score," Arthur says, and Oscar's eyes flash. "If I get points in this race, you owe me dinner."

Oscar just looks at him.

"A dinner," Arthur says, and pushes on, because he always did. "Or a kiss."

Oscar's eyes widen. He tightens his hold on Arthur's knee, and licks his lips.

"Or a good luck kiss now," Arthur says with a smirk, because he has never not known how to push. "Whichever you prefer."

He keeps eye contact with Oscar, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"And if I score?" Oscar asks, and his eyes flit to Arthur's lips for a bare second. It's quite enough for Arthur to feel a profound sense of relief, because he did not read this wrong. "What do I get?"

"What do you want?"

Oscar seems to be battling with himself about something, but then he gets a determined look on his face, the look Arthur thinks got him his first GP win in his rookie F1 season, and steps closer, in between Arthur's legs. His other hand grasps Arthur's other knee, and he's suddenly so fucking glad for the space in his fireproofs.

"A dinner," Oscar says in a low voice. His eyes fall back on Arthur's lips. "And a kiss."

"Greedy," Arthur breathes out, and he knows they shouldn't be doing this here and now, with only some hour before the race and more or less in a very exposed space. "But so am I."

"Oh, I know." Oscar laughs, and Arthur laighs with him, because he does know, doesn't he? They've known each other for so long, but it was never the right time. "I'm counting on it."

Something clangs behind them then, and Italian cursing fills the air. Oscar doesn't jump away; he moves slowly, dragging his hands until they aren't touching Arthur anymore. Arthur feels their absence keenly.

"Good luck, Arthur," he says, a beaming smile on his face.

"You too," Arthur replies. "See you after the race."

"You will," Oscar nods, and turns, and Arthur definitely checks out his ass in those white and orange fireproofs as he's walking away.

Lorenzo appears not a minute later.

"You calm?" He asks, and Arthur is, and isn't. He laughs, and Enzo stares at him.

"I'm good." He jumps down. "Let's do this."

*

"Charles Leclerc wins the first race of the season, a good start to defending his title! Gasly in second, Schumacher in third, and that rounds out our podium, with the second Mercedes of George Russel just missing out in P4! What a wonderful Sillver Arrow battle, we haven't seen those since the days of Rosberg and Hamilton!"

"Yes, Martin, indeed, what a race! And so clean, a true masterclass in sporting conduct, and such smart driving from our young Arthur Leclerc, who scores his first points for Ferrari and in F1 in his maiden race! P7, I believe?"

"Indeed, Crofty! Both McLarens follow the two Mercedes, with Piastri in P5 and Norris in P6, Arthur Leclerc for Ferrari in P7, Tsunoda in P8, Zhou P9, and Gasly's teammate Ocon coming home in tenth to score last points available in Bahrain!"

"A joy of a race to watch, Martin, now let's go back to Ted..."

*

so where do u want that dinner? :)

oh idk arthur. your room or mine?

urs. mine has enzo

good choice.

544.

i know ;)

i'll be there after i shower

or you come here before.

no sense wasting water ;)

i AM very environmentally conscius

you spelled conscious wrong

ur aussie, you dont know this

just come here :)

coming :)

bring your glasses btw.

i know your eyes hurt if you sleep w contacts

<3

will do

[noir-blackout]

Soft Bias Challenge

Admin Inky here! @yunsungsredhoodie said in the tags that others should do this so, here ya go~ (Onyx I'm excited for you to do this)

1. Who's your bias?

신승훈

2.  What made you notice them?

I mean, he's one of the four members in my personal acceptable age range (not that that's always contained me before...), so I guess he was a little bit on my radar from the start, but I was all enamoured with Yunsung and then... Sunghoon was just there. In my face. In my brain.

In particular, in the instagram video of them goofing around/practicing Beautiful when it pans over to him I remember thinking something along the lines of "wow, I'm ruined.", though less coherent than that.

Also, in the gifset of them being cute where there's the "Bonus" at the end of him being embarrassed. Those two things flipped the already-teetering Inky off the fine-with-Seunghoon cliff.

3. What’s your favourite thing about them?  

He has this casual power to him. He radiates it. He's confident, but not in an arrogant/cocky way. Not obnoxiously. He knows himself and what he's capable of and wears it proudly, but he's still humble.

He's a good leader and takes it seriously, but he doesn't take himself too seriously.

He just feels stable. He feels reliable.

(Bet you all expected it to be his tongue...)

4. Who would initiate skinship more?

Probably him - he's actually very skinshippy, which I love. He's so soft and gentle when it comes to skinship.

5. Who would hog all the blankets?

Me. Without a doubt. He can solve this by being near me and keeping me warm~

6. Who would be more clingy?

Emotionally, or? Emotionally I'm not very clingy, but if you're trying to leave the house and I don't want you to then I can be clingy. I feel like we would be similar? Neither of us very clingy.

7. Who would say ‘I love you’ first?

I have no qualms about saying it first, but TECHNICALLY he's already told me he loves me. Through vlive. Soooo.

I'm sure he didn't mean everyone watching.

8. Who would get more flustered?

That would be me. He's dealing with fans telling him sweet things all the time, and I'm sure that doesn't make him find those things less sweet, but it probably means he's adjusted and isn't flustered all the time.

I, on the other hand, felt my heart drop out of my body when he smiled and waved at me. I flustered myself/was flustered by his stupid incredible smile when I told him he was handsome.

9. What cuddling position would you two have?

Him sitting reclined on the couch or in bed. Me sort of half-beside half-on-top of him with my head tilted back against his chest and his arms wrapped around me. He can lean forward gently and kiss my head, if he feels so inclined.

10.  What colours remind you of them and why?

Yellow because of the instagram video where the GIFs above are from where he's wearing the yellow shirt with the sleeves rolled up because I've watched that video more than probably anything else... Also, there's something else where he's wearing yellow that I'm going to share soon... (호랑이~)

The dark blue/black of his hair.

The deep red of his stupid velour tracksuit. I hate how much I find it endearing ugh.

11. What season would you like to spend with them?

Fall because have you seen him in the turtlenecks and long coats? And he can also wear hoodies because Seunghoon in a black hoodie (+ a baseball cap) looks like such a boyfriend it makes my heart ache.

I hate winter but I just imagined him brushing the snow out of his hair and then smiling why did I do that no.

12. Who would bake the cookie and who would steal the batter?

I feel like we're both batter stealers and Minhyuk would come back to the kitchen not-even-surprised to find he can now only make 50% of the anticipated cookies...

13. Who would make bad puns and how would the other react?

Despite him being a grandpa, I feel like I would be the one making the puns.

He'd react with this look...

... and then by walking over, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a hug, and murmuring "You're so lame" against my hair.

14. Who would want to adopt 50 dogs and cats?

I would want to adopt 50 cats because yes please thank you. He would tell me I could only choose one cat. We would compromise and go home with two cats so they could have each other as friends.

15.  Which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a pop tart and who would come to rescue?

I wouldn't because YOU DON'T MICROWAVE POPTARTS?? You toast them in a toaster...

Moving beyond this, I'm not actually sure cause I feel like he's been taking care of himself for a long time so he should be able to use a kitchen at a basic level, but then I realize I have also been "taking care of myself" *shamefully thinks about the recycling bin full of pizza boxes I put out yesterday* for a long time, and I'm not so kitchen-adept, so...

16. Who likes to lean over trail railings and who pulls them back?

I would probably lean over and Seunghoon would either pull me back or (preferably) stand behind me with his arms around my waist to keep me from leaning too far.

17. What would watching a horror film with them be like?

My face would be in his chest the entire time. Occasionally he'd gently scratch my head and ask "Want a dorito?" and I would nod, pull back slightly and allow myself to be fed a dorito. When something scary/startling happened on screen he would jolt slightly and I would chuckle into his chest and he would feign outrage at my laughing at him cause I'm not even watching the movie.

Okay:

a) writing this killed me I am dead now.

b) I want to write this as a drabble but I basically just wrote it... I could expand it?

18.  Who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt?

Onyx said he was flirting with me at Simply Kpop and he seemed pretty smooth then so

I am a ball of cheese.

19.  Who is more competitive?

He wasn't the most competitive in Action Noir, so it might be me.

20. Who would be given constant reminders?  (Don’t forget your keys, things like that)

Me because I need them. And because he would give them. And this fact makes me feel very warm inside. He would take care of me. Writing that sentence made my heart melty.

21.  Who sends memes and who sends cute ‘I miss you’ texts at 3am?

I would send memes and he would send cute 'I miss you' texts at 3am...