#sorry for the sadder one but it’s still soft!!!💖

[castiel]

drabble day 4: memories

from @deancaskiss bex’s august drabble prompts

for most people, the memory of their significant other saying those three little words for the first time, is a good one.

but not for dean.

“we’re all out of cereal and milk so jack and i are going to pick some up. love you.”

dean’s heart dropped in his chest and he stumbled to where cas was leaning in the doorway, throwing his arms around him and burying his face into cas’s shoulder.

“you’re coming back.”

it wasn’t a question but cas answered anyways.

“of course, dean.” he pulled away a slightly to cup dean’s cheek. “… are you sure you don’t want me to remove the memory?”

dean leaned into cas’s touch and looked back and forth between his eyes. they’d already lost so much.

he shook his head. “i don’t want to lose another second with you.”

cas kissed him softly. “then you won’t. do you want to come with us to the store?”

dean smiled through his tears.

“i’d love to.”

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Unicorns Are Exquisite 💖 🦄 ! (Au based fic. "Alma" is Camila and Beardo Philip's daughter.)

Alma Noceda, 5 years old, couldn't help but cast a low-spirited look down at her unicorn sweater as she tugged on the bottom of the shirt while sitting in the principal's office.

"It's not dumb..." she spoke to herself quietly, referring to her sweater.

Upon entering the office, Camila and Beardo Philip immediately walked over to their distraught daughter.

"Baby, what happened?" Camila asked, her voice filled with worry before proceeding to cup her daughter's soft cheek.

"I got a call today from your teacher and principal. Is everything okay?"

Little Alma shook her head. "No, Mamá," she answered in a tone that was quivering with emotion. "Everything is not okay."

"What happened?" Camila whispered softly, wanting to know.

Alma started to sniffle, which made Camila wrap her in a hug.

"Hey, I'm here for you, mija. I understand that you're sad, and that's okay."

As Camila pulled away but still stayed close to her daughter, Alma began to speak, shedding tears from her eyes.

"Today, the girls in my class were being mean and said that my sweater looked bad and dumb. Papá was the one who made it for me, and I didn't like how they were speaking so badly about his work when he worked so hard on it."

There was a look of anger on her face as her cheeks were glowing red.

"He makes the best sweaters ever, and they were just dumb and jealous and-and-,"

Now it was Philip's turn to pull his daughter into a loving hug, which caused her to start crying at full force.

Her father quietly hushed her and gently asked her to take a breath.

"Did you hit any of the girls, Alma?" he asked, speaking to her in a soft and soothing voice.

Alma was his little girl, and he didn't want to make her any sadder than she already was.

Alma sniffled again before nodding.

"Yes, Papá," the small girl admitted in a sorrowful tone. "I did."

She didn't want to lie to her papa.

Alma knew that both lying and what she did today to the other girls were wrong.

Philip gently placed his hands on Alma's shoulders. "I understand that you love the things that I make for you. It's okay that you were deeply hurt by these girls and their reckless words, but it's never okay to hit others."

Camila smiled softly at Philip's words to their daughter.

Although he has changed a lot, they both felt worried about the situation.

Neither parent wanted their child to be bullied like they were at her age.

The cruel comments made by kids in school about Camila's clothes are still a recollection for her, and Philip can still recall to this day the taunts the other Puritan children made about him being a child of the devil.

"I'm sorry, Papá," Alma apologized, looking down in shame.

An empathetic smile spread across Philip's face, and he placed a small kiss on his daughter's forehead.

"It's quite alright, Alma. Mistakes happen."

Heaven knows he's made so many in his life.

"Just remember next time if someone expresses negative opinions about Papa's work, to ignore or walk away from them instead of hitting them. Okay?"

Alma slowly gazed up at her papa and nodded. "Okay," she quietly said.

Philip gave her a sweet and playful smile.

"Besides, it's not your fault that your tastes are much more exquisite than theirs."

He winked.

Alma softly giggled at his witty remark.

She greatly enjoyed her father's use of fancy words.

"You're right, Papá," she told him with another giggle.

Unicorns were indeed exquisite. 💖 🦄

Their horns, which smelled like cake and joy, were pure and enchanting, and they brought dreams to life, and no bullies could ever take that away from them.

[thevampirearcher-md]

Can I have 9 and 15? 💙

(I'm so sorry if they're a terrible match, I just went with my favourite numbers and didn't look them up )

9 + 15 = a heckload of cuteness, you actually matched them up quite well 💖

fuzzy socks + ornaments 🎄

“So, I know we’re not doing the greatest right now… money-wise, but…”

Rosé hasn’t even gotten the chance to fully enter the matchbox-sized attic that she shares with her girlfriend, hasn’t even gotten the chance to shrug off the coin sized snowflakes that have settled onto her shoulders and hair, hasn’t even gotten the chance to take off her dripping gigantic boots and let them make a puddle by the door and she already knows she’s in for a night (trademark). She rolls her eyes fondly.

“What did you do?” she calls into the apartment, a warm smile setting on her face, its force enough to start melting the snow on her. That, or the crazy heat they seem to be getting tonight - thanks to their landlord. She’s unzipping her jacket and unfurling her blanket-sized scarf from her neck, mentally preparing herself for whatever she’s about to find in their one and only room.

“I bought stuff,” Denali’s face pops into the hallway, smiling brightly, dimple on full show, bobbing up and down as if she’s a shaken can of beer - or bottle of champagne, if you’re like that.

“What stuff?” Rosé’s smile widens.

“Festive stuff,” Denali’s eyebrows wiggle up and down, in sync with the rest of her body. Rosé goes to wrap her arms around her - she’s warm and extra snuggly in her sweater and soft sweats and Rosé’s body welcomes every bit of warmth that she can offer. It’s freezing outside.

“Ok, but how much festive stuff?” she questions and Denali’s face snuggles into her neck, where the damp hair has started to stick to her skin.

“Just enough,” she says, the sound muffled by Rosé’s body. A deep laugh rumbles in Rosé’s chest, making Denali’s body vibrate as well. She clings tighter to her girlfriend.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the ginger whispers, kissing the top of Denali’s bleached head. “Want me to carry you?” she asks and Denali’s legs come up around her hips.

It’s hard to judge at first, peering over Denali’s hair, but their table seems to be laden with boxes - white, silver, gold - all neatly arranged around a small plastic christmas tree.

“Nali,” Rosé calls and Denali’s face buries deeper into the crook of her neck.

“Don’t be mad,” she whimpers in a baby voice and Rosé tightens her hands around her thighs.

“Baby, I’m only going to be mad if you didn’t get me anything,” she laughs. It sucks to be struggling, to be working themselves to the bone, of cuddling together on the couch at the end of the day, their bones heavy and their faces weary. It’s sad to fall asleep on the extensible couch without even extending it into a bed, but it would be sadder to have a barren apartment for Christmas.

Denali hops down from her arms, smile still plastered to her face. “Look under the tree,” she bops up and down again.

“Baby, Santa’s not supposed to come for, like, ten days,” the ginger laughs, going to check. She comes up holding a neatly folded, unbelievably soft and thick pair of Grinch socks.

“I know how much you love Jim Carrey,” Denali loves the look in her eyes. She knew the socks would speak to Rosé’s inner dork, even if she would have gotten mad about all the shopping she’s done. There’s a spark in her eye as she pulls them over the socks that she already has on her feet and the cuffs of her jeans. She looks like a child - an overly grown, overly styled child - as she stands up and wiggles her toes in her new Grinch socks.

“Now, I’m ready,” she winks.

“For?”

“Decorating… I hope to God you got lights, they’re like the most important part,” she heads to the table, to start rummaging through the boxes of ornaments.

“Who do you take me for?” Denali huffs, pointing to two boxes, one containing a white, the other a red light garland.

“Yes, baby, that’s my girl,” Rosé kisses her cheek. “The lights go on first, then we decide if we actually need all this other shite,” she winks.

“Of course we do,” Denali looks affronted. She hasn’t bought everything that she laid her hands on. She’s scoured every corner of a department store to find the perfect ornaments for the first tree they’re decorating together. She’s picked out tartan-patterned bulbs for Rosé’s Scottish side and a tinsel garland that reminded her of her childhood, clear bulbs with bits of paper in them to mimic snow, silver glistening stars. She had a plan for the tree, but she also knew that Rosie would take charge as soon as she got around to the idea.

“Want tea?” she asks. “Outside looks freezing,” she points to the snow-covered skylight that doubles as one of their three windows.

“Sure, baby,” she answers absent-mindedly, focused on carefully placing the lights around the plastic branches.

She would have scrimped for Christmas, Lord knows she would have. She doesn’t like how tight their budget is and she would have probably even taken a shift or two or however many she needed to over the holidays, but this is better. This isn’t making her pockets any happier, but it sure as Hell is making her soul glimmer with the indescribable love she feels for Denali.

“Hey! I wanted to help,” Denali exclaims as she rounds the corner back into the living room, coming to face the already done up tree, the room bathed in its glorious glow.

“Well, you took forever making that tea, baby,” Rosé settles on the fireplace channel.

“I made it fancy,” she mutters, settling two steaming mugs of tea with slices of orange and cinnamon sticks inside. “I wanted it to be special for this special night,” she pouts.

“It will be,” Rosé kisses her cheek from behind. “I did hold back on putting the angel on top of the tree. Would you like to do the honors, angel?” she settles her chin on Denali’s shoulder. Denali nods.

She picks up the ceramic ornament gingerly - it’s probably the most expensive thing she bought, but she thought they could keep it forever and ever. Have the same angel on top of a larger, maybe realer tree when they’ve both allowed themselves to go gray and when Denali’s arthritic joints would prevent her from being the one to place it.

“Perfect,” Denali acclaims. “Now, cuddling time,” she pecks Rosé on her lips and they settle on their ratty couch, eyes glued to their meek tree, tea mugs in hand, Denali’s back settled against Rosé’s front and their matching, fuzzy-sock-wearing feet side by side.

It’s warm and fuzzy and cozy and this is all they’ll need through the holiday season. Now and ever.