#im so sniffly too ugh

[asnzzz]

anyway i just got off to myself inducing w tears in my eyes if anyone wants to call me cute<3

(men dont interact w this post pls! <:3)

[princessbrunette]

hear me out: rafe is so daddy when he's spending all his money on ur pretty purses and shoes !! giggling as u make ur way down the strip of designer stores !!! but he becomes dad when he's scolding you for running off with the pogues . and then suddenly he's revoking ur allowance for the month bc u misbehaved and talked back . -🌅

ugh this :/ he can switch it up fast !! daddy is nice rafe and dad is strict rafe yk ?? he’s gotta turn it on sometimes to keep you in check, can’t have you getting out of control 🙄 ugh the idea of him revoking ur allowance is sooo !!

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you think he’s forgiven you for your little mishap, running off with the pogues — getting all friendly and going on adventures that he knows his delicate girl can’t handle. rafe has spanked the daylights out of you, lectured you until he’s blue in the face but he needs something else to really keep you in check. something more than physical.

“and— and you know i can’t have you running off on me like that baby it’s not fair on me s’not fair on you…” he rambles, having you perched on his knee all sniffly after your punishment.

“i know.” you shrink sadly, just glad your punishment was seemingly over.

“i gotta show you, baby— show you that i mean business, n’that im not just some bitch who’s gonna let you come in here unpunished after you run out on me. thats fair, right?” he squints, staring at you. you gaze back, face falling slowly in fear of where this was leading. when you say nothing, he jostles you slightly by suddenly reaching into his back pocket, tilting you on his lap making you hold on. he settles, pulling out his black card and holding it between his fingers.

“y’see this? you know this card very well don’t you? yeah… well this is the card that dad uses to put alllll that shopping money onto your card.” he punctuates the ‘your’ by tapping your chest with the card itself. “and all that money, you’ve been spendin’ helping out these pogues. that’s not very nice, is it now sweetheart?”

you continue to stare, glancing between his intense gaze and the card between his fingers. “so m’gonna have to cut your allowance for a little bit.” he smiles faux apologetically, his tone definitive.

“what?” your small voice asks, sitting a little further up his leg. “rafey they needed help, i didn’t need the money so i just—”

“i… didn’t say you could speak right now, baby.” his tone softens as the sentence goes along and you take it as your moment to shut up. “and i’m not cuttin’ you off baby no, i’d never do that. m’good to you, yeah? n’that’s not gonna stop. but if you wanna buy something, you gotta ask me. i’ll buy it on my card. understand?”

“…yes rafe.” you blink, feeling sorry for yourself. maybe you were spoiled, maybe you’d gotten too used to the hefty allowance that rafe was gifting you with each month but you were upset. you hated that you relied on him so much.

“right…good girl. knew she was hidin’ in there somewhere.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[ughgclden]

stopppp you’re too sweet, i literally yelped when i saw your response- i love hearing from u and it’s literally been motivating me to go on this app i-

ghosting is the worst like! give an explanation! i may be a little tipsy but i want an explanation and i’m literally RESTRAINING myself from texting him? it’s so foul, my roommates are sick of me i asking if i should text him when i know i shouldn’t,,anyways thank u my sweet bee, i def needed the love n hugs<3 it’s just literally such a bummer & i keep saying it and i’m so sorry i sdhdhsh

i love that you bake AT LEAST once a week that’s so slay i cannot even explain,,,my fav show is the great british baking show so i love living vicariously thru bakers since i cannot, pls send all the bakes (even if theyre not “proper”) id love to hear about all of it!!

you're the sweetest ever omgosh?? you're gonna make me cry in the best way possible,, m so glad if its motivating u cause it means i get to talk to u more hehe>:)

literally!!!! like the least you can do is explain what's up?! ugh. so confusing sometimes, m so sorry, n you deserve to be upset/pissed about it! you got this,, n im sending you another round of love cause its what u deserve<3

ive just had to cancel my date today as im ill and sniffly so now i can sit around and feel sorry for myself BUT as i reply to this, ive just finished up baking!! decided to be totally self indulgent and make cinnamon choc chip cookies because i am a slut for cinnamon (will include another silly lil pic) gbbo is EVERYTHING to me omg,, i totally understand, its SO good?! the drama?! the theatre of it?! ugh. incredible.

anyways! hope you're doing good today n taking care of yourself, n happy first of october!!!

a little before and after hehehe>:)

[emergetransformed]

horrible thought that if people can be sick with covid for a really long time, can you also be an asymptomatic carrier for a really long time??? I’m sure no one knows and I’m. really never leavin house again I guess

[jackwolfes]

would love to request a someone is caught in the rain and then they catch a cold and fluff ensues wesper fic!!!!! maybe they have v different understandings of what you’re supposed to do for a cold haha

ahh! im not sure how perfectly this fits your prompt but I hope you enjoy!! also unrelated I have written something similar but…. horny….

✨🌸💛💖

Wylan Van Eck does not like being sick.

He doesn’t like the way his head feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. He doesn’t like the unending ache in his throat. He doesn’t like the constant sniffling, sneezing, shivering, shaking. He doesn’t like feeling so damn weak and tired and cold but hot but cold no matter what time of day it is.

Here he is, though.

The noise he makes isn’t really anything. It’s possibly caught between a whine and a complaint, although — and this, this is the worst part — he hasn’t been able to speak louder than a hoarse whisper since he woke up. He whines anyway, as best as he can. It’s fruitless, because he’s tucked up in bed alone, in this room alone. If he got out of bed and went to the door he could probably flag down his attendant to ring for some tea, but he can’t muster up the energy to do that.

He doesn’t know where Jesper is.

There’s conscious effort in not letting himself be sad at that fact. Jesper is busy, and Saints only know that Wylan can’t work right now. He could be anywhere, but is probably picking up the slack Wylan has left, cleaning up the mess he’s making because he’d thought he could walk home in the rain and end up fine. He’s not fine. He’s very cold, and very sniffly, and very sad.

Ghezen, his head hurts.

But his throat is killing him, ache bad enough that he isn’t sure he’d be able to even get the words out to ask for tea if he did manage to find anyone.

It takes more than a bit of effort for him to push himself upright, duvet sloughing off his chest like water. He shivers. Under the blanket he’d been too warm, but now that it’s gone he’s freezing cold.

Ugh.

His steps are shaky when he takes them, moving towards the door as fast as he’s able. It’s not fast. Wylan tightens his hands in the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders, tugging it closer around himself.

The door opening as he reaches for the doorknob nearly sends him off his feet. It sets him on a coughing fit too, head swimming like a wobbly mould of sweet gelatine.

“Saints,” he hears, vaguely, a bit like a startled gasp. There’s a laugh tacked onto it. “What are you doing out of bed?”

When the fog cast over his brain clears, it’s to the sight of Jesper grinning down at him with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Wylan opens and shuts his mouth. All he wants, suddenly, is to be drawn close and hugged and held. It’s all he needs. It’s the only thing that will settle him when everything feels so bad.

“I—“ His voice croaks, and he frowns. He can’t even get the words out, because his throat still hurts that bad. He’s shivering again, head swimming, and—

“Wylan,” Jesper murmurs, soft and gentle. There’s sympathy in his eyes, taking in the imminent flush tears in Wylan’s eyes. His palm is cold when it comes up to cup his cheek — or his own face is burning, and that’s much more likely.

All he wants is to be held, but that’s what he gets.

Jespers arms around him are a steadying weight, holding him upright but encouraging him to settle into the firm press of Jesper’s chest. Wylan’s breath is shuddering when he breathes in deep, and it makes him cough again, but the soothing noises Jesper leaves whispered against the top of his sweat-soaked hair calm him again.

“Were you after tea?” Jesper murmurs. Wylan nods. He feels Jesper sigh beneath him. “I already called for some, so it should be along soon.” Wylan sniffles. Oh, Ghezen, he’s going to sob with how safe and adored that makes him feel. He suddenly doesn’t care about the fact he’d been left alone, because— well, it’s silly to think he’d ever be alone for long.

When Jesper sighs again, he can tell that the fact he’s on the verge of tears has become obvious.

“Let’s get you back into bed,” Jesper murmurs.

He wraps an arm around Wylan’s waist to lead him back to their bed. Wylan stubbornly peels off his sleep shirt before Jesper makes him get into bed, wrinkling his nose up with the way it’s damp with his own sweat. He shivers when his bare chest is exposed to the air, but the breath of fresh air makes him feel a little bit less horrible. The soft fabric of Jesper’s cardigan he's handed, though— that actually makes him feel good. Saints know he needs that.

He crawls beneath their quilted blanket once he’s in new pyjama pants, socks left in a pile at the foot of the bed. He’s too tired to care. Jesper helps him into bed, tucking him up tight and kissing his forehead. It’s reminiscent of the other night, she. Wylan had come home sopping wet with rain, shivering and soaked to the bone with the cold. Jesper had laughed, not cruelly, and hugged him close with a towel around his damp shoulders. It had been wonderfully comforting, being held and tucked up with blankets — although what good had it done? He’s still sick, now, and miserable.

It doesn’t matter, Wylan supposes. He’s being cared for now.

He sinks back against the pillows, freshly fluffed now that Jesper has returned. Jesper joins him, never more than a few inches away. He encourages Wylan to rest his weight against his chest, and Wylan goes eagerly. Oh, it’s a comfort just to feel him breathe.

“Where’d you go?” Wylan finally croaks. When he looks up, Jesper blinks, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to piece together what Wylan said — unable to parse it out with the way he’s mostly lost his voice. Saints, how pathetic.

“Oh,” Jesper finally says. He stretches just far enough that Wylan’s head ends up dislodged from his makeshift pillow, and he grumbles. But then Jesper is back, and warm and good, and Wylan finds himself hard pressed to complain. “Got you some things.”

Then Wylan is presented with a pile of— well, things. Bottles that look like medicinal cough syrups, fresh citrus fruit, juices, small candies that smell strongly of menthol and mint. But the largest thing, the most noticeable thing, there— it’s the soft cake from the little bakery all the way in the south of the Barrel that Wylan adores. The fluffy pink ones, with cream and fresh berries, not dry enough to hurt his throat but special enough to make his day. Wylan feels his eyes sting. His throat hurts too much to speak, but he wants to ask— so much. You went all the way there just to get these? For me? But he sniffles again, and looks up to see Jesper smile down at him with fondness abound.

“There’s soup starting in the kitchen, too,” is what Jesper responds with, a murmuring whisper. He kisses Wylan’s forehead yet again, hand already running gently over his back just to comfort him. “Just sleep, now, and I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

Wylan’s already nodding, settling back down against his weight with a gentle ease. There’s no issue doing it, and sleep is already starting to come easy to him. He sinks into it, and down onto Jesper, and feels safe and loved and treasured.

Sleep passes over him with Jesper humming gentle words. It comes without issue, and a smile on his face. He feels loved. He feels good. He feels— not great, yet, but better. That’s more than enough.