#it actually ended up being a holiday episode

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Oh being a GM is so fucking fun

[featherymainffins]

Binge-reading Dungeon Meshi because it's the only thing standing between me and suicide ngl.

[parfaitblogs]

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 

"What's this?" 

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 

"Then yes," you breathed out. 

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 

"Am I boring you already?" 

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 

"Fuck, Spencer." 

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── christmas love

⋆｡ ˚༘ ♫ christmas love - stray kids

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ fluff ៸៸ cw ៸៸ none ♡ synopsis ៸៸ you and chan have been friends for a while. this holiday, he chooses to spend it with you. [ semi - proofread ] [ 3.3k words ]

you were incredibly nervous. it wasn’t your first time spending time alone with chris–you had been alone together plenty of times. but tonight seemed different. the way he asked you.. his demeanor was off, but not necessarily in a bad way. he seemed.. nervous. bashful.. you have always had a little crush on him since you started your job working as an intern at jyp. you started a little less than a year ago. thinking back, it was insanity. you started this internship being somewhat aware of stray kids, and now you’re spending the night at chris and jeongin’s dorm on a holiday. it started out with you being starstruck and in awe of them, now you’re best friends with the leader. 

the idea came to chris when he was working a couple weeks ago. he was up late at the studio, working on songs for an upcoming album, when he just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about you. it was about 3am, which he would have thought you’d be asleep. so instead of calling you, he decided to send you a text. you were up, but you weren’t exactly doing anything productive. you were laying on your bed, watching crash landing on you on your laptop. you weren’t surprised that chris was awake, but you were surprised that he decided to text you.

you two texted until around 6am, and finally, christopher had the courage to call you and ask if you wanted to spend the holiday together. he figured since he didn’t have time to go back to australia, and you didn’t have time to go all the way back home to your family either, that the two of you might as well have a ‘friendsmas’. that part didn't exactly catch you off guard, the part that did was when he asked you if you wanted to spend the night christmas eve. you had been to the dorm a few times, even when it was him, changbin, han, and hyunjin living together, but he was always more private and reserved about his personal space. you had only actually been in his room once, and that was the first time you had gone to the dorms. 

you were painfully unaware of how chris truly felt about you. you were the only female friend he allowed at the dorms–and lord knows he has plenty of them. he trusted you. you had seen him at his most vulnerable moments; from stress-induced breakdowns in the studio to his depressive episodes. on top of that, you took such good care of the rest of the members. the day he realized he had feelings for you was when he overheard you consoling jeongin when he wasn’t feeling confident in his voice. you were just so caring and genuine. it was impossible for him not to catch feelings eventually. 

that’s why he needed to make this night perfect. he had everything planned out. the plan was to take you to see seouls christmas lights. since you had only been in the country for less than a year, you had just missed them when you arrived in the spring. after you two walked around, you’d go back to his place. he picked out a ton of your & his favorite snacks to munch on throughout the night. he even got matching onesies to surprise you with, yours being a reindeer onesie and his being an elf. 

he was so excited and so nervous. and you didn't even know it. he didn’t even know how you felt about him either; which made everyone around you get frustrated at times, especially changbin, who was the member you were the second-closest to. you’d never say anything to him directly or initiate anything, in fear of ruining the amazing friendship you two have together. everything was perfect, why change that?

you and chris had finally gotten back to the apartment after walking down a long sidewalk in seoul, marveling at the christmas lights and goofing around. truth be told, the outing ended early because chris noticed that you hadn’t worn your gloves, which resulted in your hands turning bright pink from the chill. it was oddly cute how concerned he was about your warmth, so you didn’t complain much.

while sliding your boots off, you took in the apartment chris and jeongin shared.  it looked the same as it usually did, except there was a white christmas tree in the living room decorated with black and silver ornaments. it was gorgeous, and you wanted to get a better look at it. chris hung your coat next to his before chuckling at your expression. “you like the tree?” he walked with you to the living room as you stared up at it. “it’s so pretty. did you two do this?”

“ah, just me. jeongin was busy with his friends the day i put it up. i thought the white and black fit the vibe of our place more, y’know?” he looked up at the tree as well, satisfied with how pretty it turned out. “it really does.” you smiled up at him, nudging his arm after. “so what do you have planned for us to do here?” 

you stared at the onesies for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. “you got these just for tonight?” you asked, looking up at him. he stumbled on his words. “uh, well.. yeah?” he cleared his throat after in an attempt to hide his slight embarrassment. “i thought it’d be funny to wear them while watching our favorite christmas movies and making cookies.” his ears turned a dark shade of red as he looked down at you, awaiting your approval, almost seeking it out from any part of your facial expression or body language. your lips curled into a smile as you lifted up the reindeer onesie. “where do i change?” 

he let out a small sigh of relief as well as a chuckle at your acceptance, and gestured to the hallway. “you can use the bathroom. second door on your left.” 

while sitting on the couch in your onesie, you heard light shuffling coming from the hallway. you perked up and there he was, waddling out in his onesie, ears dark red and a goofy, shy smile on his face. his onesie came with an elf hat, which was horribly cute on him. you couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance. “you look.. adorable.” you gestured to the onesie he was wearing. “oh, yeah? adorable hm?” he chuckled as he stood before you, hands on his hips. “stand up, lemme see yours.” 

you did just that, even giving him a little twirl and a slight shake of your bum to show off the tail on the back. he let out his squeaky giggle, clutching his stomach. “ah! i forgot it has a tail.. oh my god.” he let out a string of a few more laughs before finally calming down. “it’s actually really comfy.” you laughed, running your hands on the sleeves. “it looks like it.” he stepped forward and felt your sleeve as well, the material being plush and extremely soft and warm. “oh, you didn’t put your hood on.” he stepped even closer, using both hands to pull the hood of your onesie over your head, making the limp antlers flop around as you moved. he smiled down at you as you stared up at him, admiring how attractive he was—even in a cringey elf onesie. 

“i think you’ve got me beat.” he smiled even wider. “what do you mean?” you adjusted the hoodie so you could see him better. “i mean, you definitely look more adorable.” he laughed and pulled his phone out of the onesie pocket. “we should take pictures.” 

a deep blush ran across your face at his words. maybe he was joking around, maybe he wasnt. your brain couldn’t help but romanticize things like this because, well.. despite the uncertancies gnawing at your mind about him and how he felt about you, you still had hope deep down. secretly wishing he was subtly flirting with you.

after a while of being lazy, catching up with chris, and warming up in front of the electric fireplace, you and chris finally decided to get up and make some christmas cookies. “nothing better than making christmas cookies at 10 p.m., right?” he chuckled, setting the ingredients you needed on the counter. “10’s nothing for you, is it?” you teased, rinsing your hands off in the sink after washing them. you couldn’t help but grin at him, noticing how comfortable he looked in the kitchen, like he belonged there.

chris grinned back and raised a brow. “nah, 10’s light work for me.” he gave you a wink as he pulled open a cabinet and grabbed the cookie cutters, giving you a quick glance as he set them on the counter. his movements were casual, but there was something in the air that made it feel like more than just a simple cookie-making session. you stepped closer, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your chest as you peered at the ingredients he’d set out. “guess that’s a good thing,” you said. “i'm afraid your insomnia is contagious.”

chris chuckled softly, his voice low. “insomnia.. contagious.. are you hearing yourself?” he teased, tapping a spoon on the counter. he took a step closer, just enough that you could feel his presence, his warmth. “i think you're just making up an excuse to cover up the fact you're so eager to stay up with me.” you met his gaze, biting back a smile as you thought of the many times you'd tried to play it cool in front of him. “you think you know everything, huh?”

“maybe just a little,” he said, his tone playful but with a hint of something more serious behind it. he reached for the flour, brushing past you again as he leaned into the cabinet. the brush of his arm against yours was almost accidental, but the small contact made your heart beat faster. “so,” you began, trying to distract yourself from the slight tension that was building between you, “what’s the secret to making the perfect cookie?” chris looked up at you, eyes twinkling. “the secret is... not telling you,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. “you’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

“oh, i see how it is,” you replied with a mock pout. “no hints, huh?” chris shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "oh please, you act as if you've been baking all your life." you looked up at him through your eyelashes, a sly grin on your face. he tongued his cheek and nodded, finally looking back down at his hands while they were working. "you see, what you dont know is that i actually bake as a hobby." he said sarcastically, raising his brows and masking his comedic sentence with a semi-serious tone. "oh, is that so?" you handed him the measuring cup, not wanting to be totally useless during this cookie-making endeavor. "mhm. i even bake more than lix, if you can believe that."

you choked back a laugh, pressing your lips together. his lip twitched into the tiniest grin when he heard. "what? don't believe me?"

"no." you snorted, leaning on the counter, your elbow resting on the edge. "but ill take this as a chance to judge your baking skills." he lightly tapped the measuring cup on the bowl and chuckled. he reached for the bag of brown sugar, his face dangerously close to yours once again. "i'll take that as a challenge."

you felt your breath catch in your throat as you tried to keep your cool. he began measuring out the brown sugar, but his movements were slower now, more deliberate. he was playing, testing you, you realized. the air felt thick, and even though you were focused on the cookies, it was hard not to notice how close he was, caught in some quiet game neither of you were willing to admit.

“can i ask you something?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation onto something that didn't make the tension skyrocket. he let out a soft hum, nodding his head as he glanced at you. “sure.” you watched him, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “what made you wanna spend the holiday with me? like.. just me?” your heart dropped as soon as the words left your lips. chris’s stomach whirled as well, trying to think of a way to answer. “well.. neither of us have family here for the holidays.” he began, stirring the ingredients together in the bowl, working carefully. “and, i like being around you.” he added. 

your heart fluttered at his words, but you masked it with a small nod. “i like being around you too. sometimes.” you teased him, nudging his arm lightly. he breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “uh huh.”

a beat of silence passed before he spoke up again. “i dunno, i guess it’s like.. being around you helps me stay calm. i noticed my stresses from work and schedules aren’t as heavy on my mind when you’re around. and.. honestly, this holiday i probably would’ve been working if you said no.” his voice was softer now, and he was avoiding your gaze. “well. how could i pass this up? watching you bake cookies in an elf onesie? i feel like i hit the lottery.” 

“tch, thanks.” his voice was sarcastically monotone as he tapped the spoon on the edge of the mixing bowl.

“all jokes aside, i’m glad i can be that for you. you deserve rest as much as anyone else. no matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise.” you nudge him, a small, fond smile on your face. 

he didn’t say anything in response, he just smiled shyly, his ears never lightening from their favored shade of pink. 

after indulging in one too many christmas cookies and watching a terribly long christmas movie, you were splayed out on the couch under one of chris’s plush blankets, so warm and so cozy. the ending credits rolled as you both sat there, and chris snuck a glance at you, smiling to himself at how cute you looked bundled up like a little burrito. you looked so comfortable, so sleepy.. but selfishly he didn't want the night to end so soon. 

the ending credits began to roll for the movie, and he grabbed the remote and began to sing along to the song ‘all i want for christmas is you’, standing up and walking around the coffee table toward you, the burrito on his couch. your lips curled into a wide smile as you watched him approach you, singing the lyrics of the song beautifully. you sat up, and he reached his hand out to yours, waiting for you to take it. you raised a brow as you looked at him, and he raised one as well, not moving away until you finally took it. with a sigh, you took his hand and stood up, and he began to dance with you. 

you felt out of place, dancing with chris in his living room, wearing a damn reindeer onesie, but the unease went away when he started twirling you around, making you squeal and his voice break from laughing at you. you couldn’t help but laugh, spinning in chris's arms as he twirled you around. his laughter was contagious, filling the room with warmth and making the silly moment feel surprisingly intimate. the twinkle in his eyes as he grinned at you made your heart race a little faster, the proximity between you both now feeling like a little more than just two friends having fun.

as he pulled you back into him after your spin, your body naturally pressed against his, and for a moment, you both just stood there, caught in the quiet rhythm of the music. his hand on your back felt like a steady anchor, and his other hand gently cupped yours as if he never wanted to let go. without thinking, you both moved closer, the space between you shrinking until it was just the two of you, swaying softly.

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. his breath was warm on your skin, his scent—something familiar and comforting—filling your senses. the laughter from earlier had faded, and in its place was a soft tension, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. "is it weird that i don’t want this night to end?" chris whispered, his voice low and vulnerable, his thumb gently brushing over your hand. his words hit you like a soft wave, and before you could even process them, you felt the same way. the night had felt too perfect, too... easy.

you slowly lifted your eyes to meet his, your breath catching as you saw that same soft expression mirrored in his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you like a friend anymore, not with that look in his eyes, the one that made you wonder if he was thinking the same thing you were. "yeah," you murmured, your voice quieter than you expected. "me neither."

for a second, neither of you moved. you were both standing there, your heart thundering in your chest as the music played on, filling the silence between you. you could feel the heat from his body, his hand still holding yours with a tenderness that felt like it was testing something—something that had been building all night. chris’s gaze dropped to your lips, and you knew. he wanted to kiss you. the realization made your pulse quicken. you could feel the magnetic pull between you two, and despite the uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your mind, you couldn’t seem to pull away.

he leaned in slowly, and your breath hitched, your body tensing instinctively. but he paused, just inches from your lips, and in that moment, you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “is this… okay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the music, the question soft but heavy with meaning.

you barely processed the words before you found yourself nodding, your own lips parting slightly as you tilted your head up toward him. “yeah,” you whispered back. “it’s okay.”

and then, finally, he closed the distance.

his lips were warm and gentle against yours, hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment. it was soft, slow, as though he was afraid it might break if it went too fast. but when your lips moved against his, the world seemed to fade away, and all that mattered was the warmth between you, the sweetness of the kiss, and the overwhelming feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be. chris’s hand moved from your back to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. you responded without thinking, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back, the sensation of his lips sending sparks through you.

the kiss deepened, and suddenly you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so alive, so present. everything else—the christmas cookies, the movie, the silly onesie you were still wearing—melted into the background. it was just the two of you, wrapped up in a world that felt warm and right and full of possibility.

when you finally pulled away, your breaths were heavy, your faces still inches apart, your foreheads resting together as you both tried to catch your breath. a shy smile tugged at the corners of chris's lips as he looked at you, and you couldn't help but smile back, the joy and nervous energy mixing into something you hadn’t expected.

“that was…” he trailed off, his voice a little breathless.

“yeah,” you agreed, not quite sure what to say either. but in that moment, words felt unnecessary. you both already knew.

and when chris pulled you back into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, you finally allowed yourself to relax. the night wasn’t over yet.

please do not copy my work. see pinned for guidelines and requests.

[wildestheart4ever]

Danny Fenton being a grinch on Christmas is everything to me.

But the episode was a bonkers approach

Which is crazy because typically when one introduces a holiday episode centered on a cynic, they usually go through the process of helping them regain their holiday spirit.

Tragic event, estranged family or just plain dislike. Help to process those feelings, reaching outs, introspections, anything to help see Christmas in a positive light [again]

That, that doesn’t happen here.

And even if that was the route the episode took, it’s pretty obvious Christmas cheer can’t be brought back by nostalgia - ‘cause hey! This poor schmuck has no fond memories of Christmas, everything is overshadowed by his parents stupid arguments on Santa’s fucking existence

Ahem, anyway………

Danny? Danny is punished, although admittedly for something he did that was uncalled for, and he is put in a situation where any love he did have should have gone up in smoke

The fights he gets in only ends up framing him in a bad light, he has no control over the situation and it’s one inconvenience after another

The ghosts’ Christmas truce was probably his one actual moment of reprieve.

Other than that, he is given no actual reason to like Christmas.

But the reason he hates the holiday in the first place? Never addressed, never resolved, his parents stupid needless arguments over the existence of Santa will probably start up again like clockwork the year after

Can’t recall if anyone was actually understanding of that.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he winds up preferring to spend the holiday in the ghost zone

[chelseeebe]

i still love you, i promise

18+. smut. mentions of domestic violence (eddie is NOT the perpetrator!!!) exhusband!eddie x fem reader. this is far more nice domesticity than smut

if i’m being honest i don’t like the ending to this buuuuut i wanted to put it out because it’s been a while!! i have some holiday themed stuff cooking that i want to post before christmas so let’s all pray i actually finish it! i also wanted to just disclaim that yes cheating is bad yadda yadda yadda but we make an exception for fiction and especially for dear reader and eddie okay!?

☾ ⋆｡°✩

the tv rumbles on in the background, eddie’s eyes darting to the clock to determine whether another episode would be wise or not. 

fuck it. 

it plays on anyway, illuminating his dark living room and his terrible posture. he’d spend another couple hours here before finally dragging himself off to bed somewhere between one and two. 

he jumps out of his skin at the sound of hammering, a chorus of fists pummel the door, startling him from his slouch. whichever asshole had the audacity to bang on his door at this time would certainly live to regret it. 

he swings open the door with such force, his fist already clenched, expecting to beat the ever-loving shit out of someone only to find three sleepy faces smiling up at him. 

and you. 

stood behind your grinning sons, completely dejected as you balance what looked to be the entirety of your belongings in your arm. 

“what the f-“ managing to stop himself as the boys run around his legs to get inside. 

his eyes fall bank to your face, the shining bright maroon bruise adorning your cheek only becoming apparent to him now. 

“what happened?” eddie frets, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand, “what the fuck happened?” he didn’t really need you to tell him, that much was obvious. 

you sigh, he hadn’t seen you this low in years, no witty quips or snarling insults. just a permanent scowl and dried tears on your cheeks. 

“can you just..” moving your head from his grasp, “can you put them to bed for me? please?” desperation rippling through your tone. 

“yeah.. yeah of course,” stepping out of the way to welcome you inside, “but you’re telling me what the fuck happened after.” 

-

it’s at least forty five minutes before they settle, eddie growing more and more impatient with every stifled giggle and unnecessary request for the bathroom or water. 

when he does eventually close the door and make his way back to the kitchen, you’re stood over the sink, opened beer bottle in hand as you stare out of the window onto the street. 

“what happened?” he asks gently, hoping not to startle you though you jump anyway.

eddie grabs a bag of opened peas from his freezer, storming over to press the cold bag to your now, very violet cheekbone. 

you sigh again, much different to the usual exhausted mutters you gave him, “it doesn’t matter- thank you for doing that.” 

“too fucking right it does- did he hit you? did he touch the boys?” his grip on the bag tightening as his knuckles glow white. 

“no, he didn’t touch the boys,” placing your hand on top of his, taking the bag of vegetables from him, “just me.” 

eddie can’t help himself, the rage bubbling over once again, “i’ll kill him- i’ll go over there right now and kill that fucker,” searching for the key to his van, anticipating a night in jail for whatever was about to happen. 

your frown only grows deeper, “don’t be fucking stupid,” a disapproving frown etched on your face, watching him flap about the kitchen only to pause, blinking at you. 

“he hit you,” annunciating the words just in case you didn’t already know. 

you hum in acknowledgment, taking another swig of beer, “you got any cigarettes?”

eddie pauses again, completely astonished that you could be so calm about this. but, he’s nothing if not your willing servant, getting the box out of his pocket to hold out to you. 

“can you be serious about this? please?” withholding the box just before your grasp. 

“what do you want me to say eddie? he punched me in the face! it’s done, it’s over. i just wanna have a cigarette and drink my fucking beer, okay?” the dejected look on your face makes his heart sore, he hadn’t wanted to upset you, just get you to agree to him going over there and beating his ass. 

he nods, pointing at the balcony doors, “alright.. alright,” giving up entirely, “go ahead.” 

eddie slips out into the cool night with you, dropping the cig in your open palm, lighting his own in a bid to calm down. 

“thank you, by the way,” exhaling softly, “it means a lot, it’s just-,” you sigh, looking off into the distance, “it’s a lot for me to deal with right now, you don’t need to worry about me.” 

that was all you needed to say, a hint of guilt hitting his chest. eddie hadn’t meant to be so abrupt, so pissed off, it had just washed over him in a scornful fury. 

“i’m always gonna worry ‘bout you.” 

your lips crack into a smile for the first time this evening, relieving a little regret from his heart. 

“now smoke your cigarette and drink your fucking beer,” parroting your earlier outburst, with love of course. far too much love really, so much so he didn’t know what to do with it all. 

-

the first time actually sleeping next you again had never meant to be on his pitiful pull out couch, it felt almost unnatural. 

eddie slept here a lot, especially when he had the boys, but he can’t help but feel you deserve better. 

not that either of you are sleeping, you’re tossing and turning too much for him to drift off to sleep. 

you sigh for the four hundredth time, turning onto your back with a disgruntled huff.

“can’t sleep?” he asks, knowing the answer already. 

you startle, expecting him to have been asleep, “no, not really.”

“yeah i can tell,” deciding to spring some humour back into such a glum night, “you haven’t stayed still all night,” rolling onto his back to join you in staring at the dark ceiling. 

“i’m not a good wife-“ completely out of left field, forcing his brows to knit together in confusion. 

“that’s not true,” eddie interjects, pulling your body into his chest, really just trying to stop this self loathing shit you had going on. 

you chuckle, wrapping an arm over his waist, “i’ve cheated on him like a thousand times eddie, i know i’m not.”

“only with me right?” he asks curiously, unprepared for any answer other than yes. 

“yeah, only you.”

“then i don’t think that counts,” entirely too confident, “i’m your ex husband, he should know that you’d never be completely over me.”

he can feel your chest rise and fall nestled into his side, a deep sigh escaping your lips before slinging your leg over his waist to scoot on top, his hands don’t hesitate to slide downward to rest on your doughy hips. 

“hey, at least you might be invited to the next wedding,” your arms snake around his neck, running your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. 

this sort of intimacy was what eddie missed most, just being able to touch you whenever he liked. starting out completely innocent just to naturally slip into something more. christ, he’d pay millions to have it back. 

especially when you looked like this, your ragged oversized shirt and a pair of shorts from before bill clinton’s administration. perfect. 

“uhh no, i won’t be going unless it’s me you’re marrying,” sliding his hands from your hips to your ass, resisting the urge to growl as he does so. 

you laugh, breath brushing against his cheeks, “is that right?”

you’re so close, you may as well just meld into one body, a mess of limbs and parts. keeping your face, for obvious reasons. 

“yeah, so don’t forget it,” grabbing a handful of your luscious ass, savouring the way you felt in his grasp. 

your eyes roll back on their own, shifting only slightly to discover his dick stiffening, the rising tent in his scruffy old boxers. 

“are you hard already?” 

eddie chooses to ignore your sneering tone, his voice thick with exhaustion, “what do you think?” 

“of course you are,” sucking the backs of your teeth, “what’re you? 15?” but your thighs spread, moving into a more comfortable position for what was obviously about to happen. 

“you’re a weirdo,” he laughs, mindlessly grinding upwards, planting his feet firmly on the shitty mattress to help keep you upright. 

“mmhmm,” humming to yourself as you lean forwards, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, “and you love it.” 

eddie sighs, moving your hips backwards with his hands, “you’re gonna have to get off of me if you’re not gonna do anything,” the feel of your warmth against his growing erection only making it worse, growling with need. 

your hands trail down his chest, stopping at his pudgy tummy, a feat he’s sworn to get rid of for years now. “what makes you think i’m not gonna do anything?” tucking two fingers inside the waistband of his strained boxers, teasing them down like he won’t cum right then and there. 

he hums, his breathing becoming laboured, “i- fuck, i dunno,” losing all coherent train of thought when you tug his boxers down below his heavy balls, dick springing up against his stomach. 

your tongue peeks out, wetting your lips, “thank you,” coming out of nowhere, “for letting us- or- me stay here,” hands lingering on his ribs. 

“of course,” a no-brainer, really. you were and always have been the love of his life, he’d do anything for you anytime, “you don’t ever have to thank me for shit,” giving your ass a generous squeeze for good measure. 

“yeah i know,” exhaling as you shuffle upward, lousy shorts pulled to the side as you fist his dick, positioning his tip at your sopping entrance, “but i’m gonna.” 

and with that, he slides inside, welcomed into your warmth with a soft moan, your hands finding his sighing shoulders to rest on as you move slowly.

it’s all painfully slow, knowing you weren’t alone and ran the risk of being interrupted at any point meant a milder version of events than what this room usually saw. 

he plants both hands on your cheeks, bringing your face in close, “you can get married a thousand more times and it’d still always be you,” breathlessly, pressing his sticky forehead against yours.

“st-stop it,” a shuddered breath, his gooey sentiments making your cheeks flush. 

“i mean it,” eddie’s sure he can feel your eyelashes flutter against his own, “no one’ll ever come close,” stilling his hips, your tepid smile and laboured breathing was enough to make him cum right now. 

“eddie,” you coo, coming to a halt to send a warning glare in his direction, “i’m still married,” as if soppy words meant more than the continued torrid affair you’d been having. 

“i’m literally inside of you,” he chuckles, finding your waist to caress instead, “you know this already.”

“mhm you are,” shifting on your knees, obviously hoping to distract him from his confession, “so shut up and fuck me,” whispering harshly, your finger lingers over his lips. 

he nods, losing the battle anyway. his hips thrust upward, meeting yours in a rushed manner, you gasp softly only tightening your grasp on his skin. 

the couch creaks, the springs begging for solace as you begin to move with him, containing your pretty little mewls within. eddie already knows he’s going to cum quick, he hadn’t seen you in weeks and even his hand had started to bore him. 

“oh shit,” he groans, running a hand underneath your shirt and up your flexed back, “i’m not gonna last,” gazing into your half-moon eyes, not put off by your growing smile. 

“no?” bouncing your hips faster, deliberately clenching your pussy around his cock, spurring him on for a disappointing showing, “you can’t wait f’me?” goading him, wanting him to cum just so you can hold it over his head. 

eddie pants in time with your frantic hips, allowing you to take control completely. he loves it like this, when you just use him to get off. barely able to keep watching you through hooded eyes, the sight of your wild waist sending him into overdrive. 

“nuhuh,” he strains, wetting his lips as he tries his utmost to keep going, “i can’t.. you feel so good,” through gritted teeth, his heels dig into the couch as a means to ground himself, prolong his climax for as long as possible. 

“c’mon eds,” pressing your damp forehead to his, “‘m nearly there,” positioning yourself so he nestles into your sweet spot, a clammy hand palms at the back of his neck as you desperately rut your hips. 

concentrated gasps fall out of his parted lips, reminding himself to keep breathing concurrently with every jerk and swing of your body. 

sticky skin meshes into one, he doesn’t know where you end and he begins, just a heaving pile of limbs on his couch. 

he’s trying to think of something, anything else to stop him busting his nut, but you’re whimpering, making these soft sounds and your eyes are rolling and it’s all too much. 

he’s thrusting upward without much thought, spilling over in a whirlwind of his nerves exploding and guttural grunts. filling you up, completely unapologetic in the moment, he knows he’ll make it up to you somehow. 

eddie can’t even comprehend your annoyed plight, his ears ringing and his vision fuzzy while you settle on his thighs. he can just about make out your frustrated pout, scowling at him as he floats slowly back to earth. 

“you’re so mean,” cupping his chin to force his eyes to meet yours, “i can’t believe you.” 

his eyelids flutter, sinking into the pillows with you still perched atop his thighs, “sorry sweetheart.. not my fault you feel so good,” sighing as the sleep takes over his eyes, lazily running his fingers over your supple thighs. 

you groan, sliding off of his lap to your spot next to him, pulling the blanket up and over you both. at least maybe now you’d get some sleep, though eddie’s not certain he will. thoughts of beating the life out of david crowd his mind, clearly not as empathetic or understanding as you were. 

he snakes an arm around your waist, watching your face as your features settle, embracing the tired aching of your bones. 

-

an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech serves as your alarm, closely followed by three lots of footsteps banging down the wooden stairs in his apartment. 

eddie can’t have had more than three hours of sleep. holding onto your twitching body, preoccupied with guilt and anger over your bruised cheek instead. if he had been a better husband, this wouldn’t have ever happened. 

but now, he’s forced awake by your children, groaning into the pillow as their limbs flail and scramble onto the couch, screaming about breakfast and cartoons. 

“alright alright!” he huffs, still gruff from his lack of sleep, “get the hell off me,” shielding your head with his arms while they settle into place. 

“do we have have to go to school?” oscar perks up, an opportunist like his father. 

“uhh yeah,” you emerge from the blanket cocoon to scold your idiotic children, “what makes you think you’d be skipping today?” 

“because we’re at dads house, we only come here on the weekend,” so innocent, though you can both see right through it. 

“it’s tuesday,” you chuckle, “you’re going to school,” tipping them from your legs to stand up. 

there’s an unexpected sadness that settles in his chest, a knowing that he’d missed out on this for too long because he fucked up in the first place. 

eddie climbs out of the makeshift bed anyway, masking his lingering sadness with a cough, determined to make his incompetence up to you somehow. 

“i’ll get them ready,” he assures, leaning ever so nonchalantly against the counter, “go, take my bed, you need it more than i do,” it’d quite simply take all of his might not to crawl up the stairs and join you, leaving you alone in his bed was just torture. 

you nod, muttering a quiet thanks before shuffling off, running your fingers over benji’s mop of hair for good measure as you go. he was the only one that had inherited eddie’s curls, though unlike his dad’s, his sat nearly atop his head and not hastily thrown into a bun like his. 

“alright freaks, what’s for breakfast?” 

-

toast and ice cream apparently. 

a long battle of no’s and absolutely not’s ended with eddie conceding to his feral children, on the condition that they had toast as well as their ice cream. 

it worked, for the most part, until it came time to leave and oscar couldn’t find his pencil case and benji’s shoes needed to be tied. 

but they’d made it to the gates only a few minutes late, bundling them out of his car and far far away for eight hours. 

he still needed to call the shop and let them know he wouldn’t be in, not for a couple days at least. you were his priority now, not that you hadn’t ever been, they all knew he’d drop work if you asked. 

eddie leaps up to his apartment, desperate to get back to you. he wasn’t expecting to find you in the kitchen, washing the dishes from his chaotic excuse for breakfast. 

“did they have ice cream for breakfast?” you ask the second he enters the room. your tone gives nothing away, forcing him to answer cautiously in case yes was the wrong answer. 

“it’s the only thing they’d eat,” he holds his hands up in admission of his guilt, “they had toast too though,” sidling up besides the sink, studying your eyes to grasp whether you were pissed. 

“alright,” nodding as you drain the sink, wiping your hands with the dish towel, “they had a shitty night, ice cream is fine,” shrugging as you turn to him. 

is this a ruse? were you about to release your real frustration? eddie’s not sure and he’s not about to find out. 

“how ‘bout some food? we could go out?” changing the subject entirely, a safe, but wise move. 

you blink, glancing at the clock, “you don’t have work?” 

he shakes his head no, “called in, told them you needed me here so.. you’re stuck with me,” sliding closer along the countertop, a bashful grin overcoming his features. 

he’s not sure how long this’ll last but he’s going to soak up every last minute of you being here, letting him dote on you instead of refusing, a semblance of the old life he so dearly missed. 

“i want a burger,” stating plainly, knowing he’d get you anything you asked for. 

“i can do that,” he eyes your disheveled shirt and no pants, “you wanna get changed first or are we just going like this?” 

you snarl before scurrying off to get ready. eddie finds it difficult to not let his heart swell, he’d never fallen out of love with you exactly, but he’s certain he’s falling in love with you all over again. 

-

eddie’s not complaining at all, but he’d forgotten just how long you took to get ready sometimes. 

an hour later and you reappear, the maroon marking still adorning your face, though you look a little less tired and a little more like you. 

deciding on a benny’s special over shitty fast food which he didn’t mind. eddie used to work at benny’s right around the time you got pregnant with oscar, it was a short lived job though, he wasn’t exactly cut out for customer service even in your local dinner. 

benny was kind enough to let him go with his whole pay check, he’d always had a soft spot for him. 

“are you getting out or..” his hand pauses on the door handle, staring at your frozen body.  

“uh no? not with this,” gesturing to the bright purple bruise decorating your face. 

eddie’s brows furrow, you weren’t one to care about what people thought of you, especially not something shallow like a bruise. 

“why? d’you think anyone’s gonna care?” completely dumbfounded by your hesitance. 

you scoff, “no eds, i don’t want anyone to think that you did it.”

oh. 

“oh.. shit, yeah,” it was so unfathomable to him to ever think about hitting you that the the thought had just never crossed his mind, he would never, not even if his life depended on it. 

“yeah,” you repeat, laughing at his ignorance, “i’m doing this for you,” staying put in your seat, a self-righteous nod as he clambers out, having already memorised your order on the journey over. 

he can’t stop thinking about it. 

that anyone could ever assume he’d do that to you. 

he lost his temper sometimes but not like that, never at you. it makes him nauseous to even imagine, babbling through his order while all his brain can fathom is you. 

eddie’s more sure than ever that he had to do whatever it took to keep you next to him forever. you liked to joke a lot about your divorce, how it was the best two thousand bucks you’ve ever spent, but eddie’s not sure it’s at all true. 

he slides back into the car, holding the food in his lap while he, rather shoddily, thinks this through. 

“what? what’s wrong?” oblivious to the inner workings of his head, the buzzing feeling of electricity coursing through his veins. 

the car is silent, though he’s certain you can hear his brain ticking along before he takes a hold of your hand. 

“i’ve been thinking,” your arm going limp with his touch, befuddled by his sudden change in demeanour. 

“oh no,” laughing quietly, letting him continue whatever this was, “that’s never a good thing.”

he slides his ring from his finger, still unable to part with the commitment he’d made, and slides it onto your, notably empty, fourth finger, “i want you to have this, and i want you to keep it until you’re ready- whether that’s a couple of months or twenty years,” twisting the metal around and around, “i’ll be there.”

“eddie,” too gentle for scolding, perhaps it was purely pitiful instead. but your eyes soften when they catch his forlorn gaze, squeezing his fingers for good measure.

a sign that maybe not all hope was lost.

[sweetchildcloud]

How Alastor would be as a boyfriend/lover

Pairing: Alastor x A!Reader

Tags:fluff,cute,maybe OOC?[out of character],kisses,pecks,snuggling.

P.S: this is my first time writing about Alastor so im sorry if its not good :/

A/N: this picture is how Alastor will look at his SO and nobody can change my mind

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

Alastor is a very devoted lover and would often do thoughtful and charming things for you like leaving flowers on your doorstep (even tough you both stay at Hazbin Hotel in the same room) or cooking elaborate and delicious meals for you.

He never really strayed from his polite, elegant demeanor or charmingly cocky smile, and seems to truly care for you a great deal. (everyvone at the hotel will always look at you with a stunned look because the radio demon actually fell in love with someone?)

You loved how sweet and kind he was to you and how charmingly adorable he was as well.

He would often shower you with gifts (of stuff you like) and affection like holding hands and quick pecks on the cheek.

You can always rely on him to lift up your spirits whenever you felt down.

You two had a very healthy and happy relationship and brought out the best in each other.

When you two got home [Hazbin Hotel] from dates, you would often watch anime together[the most gruesome ones the better] while snuggling and discussing the episodes.

You especially loved how he would let you hold his fluffy tail and play with it whenever you wanted to and you would always told him how fluffy it felt [obviously in the privacy of your own room,who wants to see the all mighty and scary radio demon...being cuddles by their SO with his tail? probably killing them on spot so that they will not tell anyone]

He would make you hot chocolate and bring blankets to cuddle with on cold days.

On holidays like Valentines day, he would get you elaborate boxes of chocolate covered strawberries, and take you on romantic walks in the forest of his room where the two of you would hold hands, talk about your dreams and hopes, and enjoy the beauty of nature together.

His ears would flatten whenever he was in a playful mood, and they certainly seemed very fluffy. They often brushed against your face whenever he leaned close, and the feeling of his soft ears against your cheeks always made you smile.

Alastor would often let you play with his fluffy ears and would sometimes rub you head affectionately adding a peck on the cheek in return. His ears were soft and adorable to pet, and you really enjoy stroking and touching them whenever he let you. [I LOVE WHEN HIS EARS FLICKERS LIKE UGHHH]

Whenever you two have a disagreement and you start arguing, he becomes very calm and stoic. He is not easily provoked and is able to keep his composure even when you are angry and arguing at him. He never raises his voice or shouts at you, and rarely even scolds you. Instead, he listens to you calmly, tries to see your point of view and eventually tries to find a solution that works for both of you. He is a patient and understanding partner who values harmony and communication.[since he's the radio demon and stuff and radio is communicating trough words]

He recognizes that arguing and fighting is natural in any relationship, but he also realizes that it is not the best way to resolve issues. Instead, he seeks to find common ground with you and to find a compromise that works for both of you. He is also quite good at apologizing when he made mistakes, and is willing to accept his share of the blame whenever the issue was on his end as well.

But in situations where things escalate and you start to get overwhelmed and emotional, he will immediatly stop and comforting you and try to calm you down in a gentle manner. He will be very understanding and comforting, stroking your hair and holding you tightly, whispering soothing and calming words into your ear and even offering to make you a cup of hot tea.

 Alastor is very protective of you, since he had developed a very deep and abiding love for you. He is quick to defend you from others and will do whatever it takes to protect you.

He is a very powerful demon and when he is very angry or feels that someone has hurt you, he becomes very vicious and ruthless.

He has a fierce temper when he fels that anyone threatens to harm the ones he cared about, you most of all. The thought of someone even attempting to harm you incensed him and filled him with a burning rage. This trait is one of the things that you loved about him as you feel secure and safe with him.

When Alastor is upset or angry, his smile never fades from his cheeks but it shifts into a psychotic grin that frightens many,but not you. His eyes become hollow and cold, his breathing becomes rapid and his grin seems even wider than before. He gives off an air of menace and it is clear he is about to go on the attack. In this state, He often seems unhinged and out of control, but it is clear he still remains calculating and calm underneath. This state of his is frightening to many other demons, who tend to avoid him when he is like this.

When you're sick, he does his best to take care of you. He will cook you hot soup, brew you tea, bring you fresh water bottles and even rub your back and wipe your forehead to keep you comfortable. He is very attentive and caring when you are feeling ill and he will do everything he can to help you recover quickly and smoothly.

He will also do his best to entertain you while you are in bed, showing you all his favorite movies or programs [on his old tv],radio talking, joking around to make you laugh and even reading all the best books to you. [he will end up falling asleep cradling you on your bed,the radio will play 30' music,as Charlie gasps soflty saying how cute the two fo you looked as Vaggie tries to drags her gf away to do not disturb you.]

i hope you liked this and if you want more tell me and if you have doubts or questions if in the era of Alastor there were TVs, yes there were TVs at that time as the first TV was created in 1927 and he was killed in 1933.

i think Alastor would love old tvs unitl 1970 or 1980 because the others will remind him of Vox XD.

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: mostly fluff but all my works are 18+, established relationship, fear of flying, a very dramatic nose bleed and eddie being an adorable but horny mf

a/n: i recently started rewatching supernatural again, and in doing so i came to the conclusion that dean and eddie are very similar. so this is a little something that’s loosely based off a scene in season 1, episode 4: phantom traveler. enjoy xx.

“are you seriously humming enter sandman right now?” you ask, amusement creeping into your voice as you glance over beside you.

only to see your boyfriend. with his cheeks flushed, leg bouncing erratically and ringed fingers gripping tightly onto the armrest nestled between you.

when you originally brought up the idea to book a flight to visit your folks for the holidays, instead of making the almost 10 hour trek to good ole’ minnesota, eddie had seemed all for it.

he encouraged it actually.

making some joke about how his “decrepit, aching twenty-six year old body” couldn’t handle another 10 hour drive.

however, the closer the trip loomed, the more reluctant eddie became. and he tried every which way to get you to cancel the flight and make the dreaded drive instead. but that was an argument he wasn’t going to win.

it wasn’t until the plane began to ascend into the air that the reason for his sudden reluctance became blatantly obvious.

eddie munson was scared, no scratch that—petrified of flying.

and try as you may, you just found that new tidbit to be even more endearing.

eddie gives you a sideways glare as you attempt to hide your grin. and really it shouldn’t be this funny. but maybe your lack of sleep from the early morning drive to the airport is finally beginning to weigh on you and soon the delirious giggles will start to kick in.

“yes, it calms me,” he huffs, gaze tearing away from you to glance out the small window of the plane.

“well you don’t look very calm to me.”

you rest a hand on his bouncing knee, just as another round of turbulence rocks through the cabin. and your amusement quickly delves into concern as he grips your arm to pull you closer into his side.

“okay—that cannot be normal!” he nearly whines, leaning his head back against the seat.

“baby, it’s just a little turbulence. you know you’re more likely to die in a car accident than on an airplane, right?”

while he appreciates your attempt to ease his mind a bit, it’s seriously not working.

“nice try, but i’ve seen final destination, sweetheart. i know how this shit ends.”

and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics.

soon his humming starts back up, becoming a lot louder. and earning him a solid kick in the back from the teenager seated in the row behind you. the kick seems to be perfectly timed however. as the force of it and another jostle of the plane has his body flying forward, his nose smashing directly into the seat in front of him.

his pained groan has your temper flaring, ready to whip your head around and give that shit head kid a piece of your mind. but you freeze when you notice the way he’s cradling his nose. your gaze following the drops of crimson that have dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt.

“shit, eddie you’re bleeding.”

he makes a noise in confirmation, but before he can utter some sarcastic remark you have unbuckled both of your seatbelts and hauled him to his feet.

the flashing seatbelt sign be damned.

a flight attendant tries to stop you on your way down the aisle toward the bathroom, but you’re having none of it.

“miss, you both need to return to your—”

and if looks could kill, this whole plane would come crashing down.

“either you let me through so i can help clean him up, or he makes a mess of your aircraft. your choice.”

while you can tell she wants to argue, seeing the blood beginning to seep through the space between his fingers has her moving aside to let you pass.

“christ, sweetheart.” eddie groans when you carefully shove him inside the small bathroom and squeeze in behind him.

“sit, now.” you order.

he does as instructed, spreading his legs so you can slip in between them. you grab a wad of the practically sheer toilet paper, running a corner of it beneath the stream of water.

“keep the bridge of your nose pinched, it’ll help stop the bleeding.”

and when you turn back toward him, your brows pull together in confusion. his lips are stretched in a toothy grin, any trace of his anxiety now forgotten.

at least for the moment.

you begin to gently dab at the drying blood on his upper lip, thankful that most of the gushing had ceased for the time being. and eddie winces slightly once you start to clean around his nose.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, having felt his burning gaze from the moment he sat down.

“you’re just…” he trails off, slipping his fingers through the loop of your jeans to tug you closer—if that were even possible. “really fuckin’ sexy when you’re bossy.”

and a subtle glance down has you huffing out a laugh of disbelief.

“eddie, do you seriously have a boner right now?”

and he just grins wider.

“guilty as charged.”

[gachagon]

This is big spoilers for the commercials in the Awayfrompryingeyes website on the Welcome Home site.

I've been saying since DAY 1 that Eddie Dear was going to be one of the most important Neighbors to pay attention too, aside from Julie, Frank, and Sally. And this update just practically confirmed it, I had this long running suspicion about Eddie Dear, and it's that I think he was one of the first besides Wally to gain sentience in a way.

I know most people believe Wally was the one who "woke" up first essentially and was able to see the reality of what they were actually living in, but I think Eddie Dear was the first of Wally's friends to actually wake up. My reasoning for this is that Eddie's "backstory" on the neighborhood page is so vague and strange compared to the other neighbors. He's the ONLY one who doesn't remember where he came from, and we see routinely throughout these updates that he's kind of the odd man out a lot of the times.

And that's not totally unusual for a kids show, but there's something about Eddie that just points to him being a lot different from the other puppets. Like that he's also the only one who's able to actually tell what time it is, as he's the only neighbor with a real watch.

And he really REALLY wants to fit so badly into the world of Welcome Home that he sticks to his job as a mailman as much as he can. But even looking at his interactions with the others, you can tell he's not quite playing the role he's been set as perfectly.

I don't think Home (the house) had anything to do with Eddie waking up, I actually think it was a combination of Eddie just not being able to mesh well with the part he has to play and the other characters breaking his routine without asking him. The moment that really shakes him is when he can hear the Narrator say "And Eddie Dear was happy." and i think that's because he really doesn't know if he is happy or not. Home is still strange because its obviously the one thing that Eddie fixates on when he first gains sentience, but I don't think its what shook him out of just being a puppet only.

Eddie is also so obviously playing along with the idea of Homewarming and doesn't actually know much about it. But he's not letting the others know this, as when he's alone is when he tells himself to just "focus on the festivities" instead of the other confusing parts of Homewarming. When he's with Poppy decorating the tree (with turkey...? and gravy...?) He just makes it seem like what they're doing is a no brainer, and something everyone does during the holidays.

But when he starts spiraling at the party, all of the things he helped decorate look strange and confusing to him. He can't focus on anything, staring into the wallpaper makes it seem worse, and the fabric of his own reality is literally being ripped at the seams (there's just an excessive amount of video tearing which I equate to Eddie's sense of sanity at the moment and just how present he really is)

It's here that Eddie finally realizes just what they're doing, and what everything really truly looks like. Eddie even tries to focus solely on Frank's face to sort of ground him, but the goddamned credits for the episode itself is playing over Frank's face and obscuring his vision. The scene itself wants to move on but Eddie is still able to see what the audience normally wouldn't be able too, and that split from his reality to ours is what makes him freak out in the end.

[chevelleneech]

semi-live blog

They are immediately the cutest fucking people when together. So soft, so giggly.

I know it’s part of their social culture, but they drink a lot. Maybe it’s because I don’t drink, but dang.

“Jungkook is currently doing his skincare.” They add to the screen after panning away for scenery, yet leaving the sounds of *slap slap slap*���

Jungkook cycling through multiple pairs of sunglasses, and Jimin swanning in and picking the first pair is peak! They’re so similar I yet so different, lol.

Another thing I’m sure is part of their culture, is the way they pay for stuff, but I find it interesting still that we’ve seen Jimin buy almost everything during their trips, since as far as we know they have pretty lax hierarchy rules between the two of them normally.

Jungkook is in the most romantic moment of his life, lmao! “I love it here!!!” said a million times. That man was experiencing a real life Hallmark movie in his head.

I also thought they spoke/understood way more Japanese than they apparently do.

“Come on everybody!” I understood that reference.

The way they chose to animate over everything to avoid having to blur a billion people in the station is HILARIOUS!

Jimin is too funny bro.

This train ride is so peaceful, it’s selling me on visiting Sapporo despite being broke and not speaking a lick of Japanese.

Can we also discuss how “My man, my man, my man.” Jungkook is? Yet Jimin is too, and somehow both is more than the other, lol. They are perpetually on some, “Jimin will like this.” “Where’s Jungkook?” *films food, pans to Jimin* *films the outside world, pans to Jungkook* *cuddle even while walking* type stuff. Just lovesick.

Girl!dad Jimin confirmed🥰 He’ll be such a sweet dad too, I think. He’s so patient and kind, which is heavily required to raise another human.

I loooooooooe Jimin’s jacket dude.

The way Jimin immediately pivoted to making JK laugh when he tried to downplay himself. Like I said, “My man, my man, my man.” Don’t talk bad about his man, even if you are his man.

My most delusional Jikook theory you’ll ever hear from me: “Are You Sure?” actually became the title because they were asking it if each other, because they in looooooooooove.

Also, to answer my own question from my previous list… yes, the bubble is back.

Role play Jikook strikes again!

Jungkook is it slick! He played with that sip of whiskey the entire time, but the minute Jimin left he downed it.

Them forgetting to pay would’ve been me. And JK initially sending Jimin back to do it would have also been me. You got it, extrovert! Take the embarrassment for the both of us!

They’re so cute! This snow fight makes me want to be somewhere cold for the holiday☹️

The food always looks so damn good! Lord I’m jealous.

I need someone to compile all the times JM and JK go out to eat together, and let me know if Jimin is the one with his back always to the door? It’s a thing in America at least, that the “protector” tends to sit where they can see the door, and I don’t know if that’s a thing in SK as well, but it’s cute, because it matches their dynamic either way.

“Your fingers were all over it.” SIR!? You’ve had his sweaty ear in your mouth… he’s had his mouth on your neck… you’ve also had his fingers in your mouth before and vice verse… AND y’all constantly eat and drink off each other… in fact… yesterday he bit the very sausage you were in the middle of eating and then you continued eating it… before that you gladly allowed him to put his TOES next to your face while you were BRUSHING YOUR TEETH. Stop playing with me, Jeon Jungkook!

Jimin legit being ready to beat Tae’s ass over a dumpling is too crazy, lol. And folks be acting like he some docile helpless baby. Meanwhile, JK is a mediator. They definitely made for each other.

End of the episode. It was fun. Felt like the start of a holiday special. And I didn’t mention it up top, because I decided to “live blog” thoughts like ten minutes in or whatever, but Jungkook softly and sweetly saying he wanted to come back to Japan because it reminded him of their first trip together… SOBBING! He’s such a sentimental guy, with an equally as sentimental guy on his arm.

They truly do vibe so well, and I understand with each passing episode why them enlisting together was a non-choice choice. They click. Like they said themselves, they’re one person split into two bodies, and it’s clear as day they thrive off of being around one another.

Not to get too sappy either, but it’s insane they feel that way about their bond and dynamic, on top of all the things that already just so happened to bring them together. Not just born in the same country, but same city. Auditioned for the same music group. Actually made it into the same group… they were destined to meet, and even they feel that way. All that’s missing is them being the same age, and they’d be the same person. That’s an insane thing to say, but really tells you how deeply they value their connection.

[respectthepetty]

Spare Me Your Mercy Thoughts

I have waited almost four years for this show since MDL made a placeholder for Euthanasia in early-2021, and now that it is here, I'm going to gush about all the ways I love it!

Just like a few of Dr. Sammon's other shows airing around the holidays (Manner of Death, Dead Friend Forever, and Petrichor), I'm thankful I got the first episode of Spare Me Your Mercy on Thanksgiving and the last will come on Christmas because this is the exact show I need for the holiday season since it began the entire series with Tew, the cop, having to perform euthanasia on an animal.

I grew up and still live in a rural area where cattle far outnumber the actual folks, so I fully understand euthanasia is a good death as the word implies, so I will not be struggling through the premise of this show, and I have faith the show won't either because when Tew fired the gun, the scene was peaceful.

And the show is making some pointed remarks about how things operate outside of bigger cities since Kan specifically mentioned he has about 2,500 patients. When the other officer asked the nurses if Kan had a long queue, they didn't even respond. Kan also clarified that his specialty is palliative care, so he has to monitor a wide range of long-term illnesses, so even though Tew might actually be from this place, he is now the outsider and out of his depth before he even started.

Sidenote: I cannot be mad at a nurse, even if one of them turns out bad because the way they all protect Kan from the police is the teamwork I love to see.

The red light to notify the office the doctor is seeing a patient coming on right after Kan responded to the nurse that it wasn't a murder case yet was perfection.

I already knew Kan was going to be my favorite character, but Tor is doing amazing showing the layers Kan has, as expected. Kan tells Tor he can cry and shows him kindness, but when pushed, Kan makes small digs about how people should spend the last moments of someone's life cherishing them when rudely questioned by Tew regarding the unexpected deaths knowing Tew did not get to see his mother before she died. He also made a subtle display of knowing where things were located in the house because he is in control.

The way he slid his LINE information into the conversation AFTER indirectly telling Tew he was being emotional due to his grief is why I'm excited to see another version of Manner of Death's Tan. Kan probably does like Tew but he stays focused and calculated.

He is terrifying without there being any concrete detail to pinpoint on why he is scary. Som, while describing people being possessed by evil murderous spirits, was terrified of Kan, and the transition from Som telling his story to Kan appearing at the exact moment Som was going to state what human form the evil spirits take was brilliant.

But what's even more terrifying is the treatment of the terminally ill. They are viewed as a burden, locked away, and isolated.

And Tew witnessed it. He got a glimpse of what Kan sees daily, so the show is already building up a case in defense of Kan's actions. If he is performing euthanasia, Tew could understand. He heard the goat's bell. He knew it was still alive, but he decided to end its suffering, cleanly and swiftly, which is what euthanasia is. He saw that man left behind by his family and even moved to go get him. And he was bothered when the man's daughter stated her reasoning for leaving him out there alone.

He also stopped Kan from continuing to question Som. Therefore, the true conflict has been set. Tew, whose job is to discover the truth, doesn't need it if it causes pain, but Kan's entire job is making pain manageable.

And I always want to trust a woman, but as suspicious as the director is being about everything, babygirl would be the perfect person to attempt euthanasia since the dead would end up on her table where she could claim the death was the result of the illness.

Because euthanasia is a good death.

And this ain't it.

He understands that.

But someone doesn't.

[johns-prince]

if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]

“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”

“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]

““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?” Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.” “Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?” John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”

— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?”  “In bed.” — Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]

“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”

— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]

Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?” Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!” John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]

conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]

“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home. All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm. “Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.” “Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said. John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke. “I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.” “Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before. “Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.”” — Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

[x]

Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:

But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.”” 

…

John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.

He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.

 Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul. 

…

John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.

So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.

If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.

— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 3

Episode 3 picks up the day after the camping trip, and Wilhelm calls his mom to check on her. She dumps a massive guilt trip on him, maybe unintentionally, and Wilhelm is feeling a little bit down.

Culture: These are Swedish studentmössor. They originated in the 1800's among Nordic university students and they wore them as a common marker. Later, they were adopted as graduation caps for high school students, signifying that they were now allowed to begin studying at a university.

Culture: Valborg, April 30th, is a traditional Swedish holiday where you celebrate the coming of spring with bonfires. It is also the start of graduation season for high school students, and graduates are allowed to start wearing their caps.

Cinematography: This season they started writing most on-screen social media commentary in English, despite those users being pretty obviously Swedish. I suspect it's because it saves them having to subtitle all of them, it makes it a bit easier for all the viewers to follow along.

Subtext: No, keeping up appearances is more important than mental health for the royal family, which is why this is new behaviour that Wilhelm has never seen before.

Subtext: As a reminder of the increased interest, here's a paparazzi intruding on school grounds. Also, where the hell is Malin? Isn't it her job to shoo away photographers?

Culture: Vintern Rasat is a classic Swedish song celebrating spring that's often performed by student singers at Valborg.

Subtext: Boris cleverly offers August individual therapy, something he sorely needs.

Subtext: It's of course a bit ironic that pretty much the entire fandom hates August and has decided that he can't be forgiven or redeemed. Yes, you, dear reader. But Boris lays out a way for August to start his redemption arc. Will it work? Tune in for next week's episode!

Culture: These usernames reek of white supremacy. Norse mythology references are very popular, and 88 means H*il H*tler, so that's the kind of people we're dealing with. The show is also foreshadowing what's gonna happen at the end of the episode.

Blink and you miss it: Linda made Pabellón, a Venezuelan dish. In season 1 we didn't know where Linda was from, but in season 2 she was canonically made as being from Venezuela, just like Omar is in real life.

Subtext: I think August actually cares, Kristina is family to him too, but Wilhelm refuses to treat him as family, so he lies about how she's doing. Not very convincingly, though.

Cinematography: This is an absolutely hilarious shot with a bunch of students anxiously peering out through the windows as the dreaded enemy arrives: Skolinspektionen! Dun-dun-dun!

Blink and you miss it: There's a rainbow flag on the board to the left.

Subtext: Vanessa totally knew she interrupted a makeout session between our boys. Oh, and there's a lot of purple in these two scenes, colour theory exploded with joy.

Subtext: Simon will be proven wrong, someone will be honest.

Subtext: It's also ironic that Simon joins the rest of the Forest Ridge boys pretending to have a great meal together that is totally not stiff and awkward at all, absolutely not.

Lost in translation: Simon Walter says that May 1st is a "röd dag" - a red day, which is how Sundays and public holidays are usually marked in a Swedish calendar. "Bank holiday" is the term used in the UK for public holidays. There are 13 public holidays in Sweden each year.

Culture: Första Maj is the name of the International Workers' Day in Sweden, because it always occurs on May 1st. In defence of Henry and Walter's shared braincell, most Swedes actually don't participate, but it's a bit weird to not even know what it is.

Subtext: This entire sequence shows how Felice's dad tried to stick up for himself, but quickly learned to keep his head down instead and conform and roll with it. And it wasn't just the other students who were racists, the staff was in on it too. This goes for all the shit the students are doing, the partying, the booze, the alcohol, the bullying: The staff is in on it. They know. They're complicit.

And despite all of this, Poppe's immediate answer when asked how his time at Hillerska was, is that it was the best time of his life. This is why schools like this stay the way they are, why they never change, because they're very good and very bad at the same time. Trauma-bonding works, the kids will all get friends for life, they'll forget the shit and remember the good times. They'll become like him.

But when Felice learns what the school did to her dad, she decides to help shut it down, to stop the cycle of abuse. The reason she goes in alone is because she now knows she can't trust her dad, he's gonna defend the school, and she also doesn't want him to know that she snitched.

Subtext: In official surveys, students from schools like this generally rate them very highly. Student satisfaction is very high. Maybe they're lying, maybe they're delusional, but they sure care more about their schools than public school students.

Blink and you miss it: REAL SUBTLE THERE, SHOW.

Subtext: Keeping with the school theme, this is how students defend the shit that goes on. Outsiders are kept in the dark, you don't tell them anything, because they "wouldn't understand", they're missing the "full context", etc. Oh, I don't know shit about fashion, but Fredrika's jacket smells very expensive.

Blink and you miss it: While Wilhelm pinned a polaroid of himself and Simon prominently on his wall, August keeps a similar polaroid of himself and Sara hidden.

Subtext: Micke's redemption arc is in full swing, so why not play a song that reinforces the idea that people can change?

Subtext: August's redemption arc is in full swing, so let's cut to him nervously waiting outside Micke's place for Sara to come home, while the same song is playing. Is he gonna be a villain forever?

Blink and you miss it: Micke introduces himself as Micke af Eriksson when August introduces himself as August Horn af Årnäs. The English subtitles for some weird reason went with "Micke Eriksson of Bjärstad", but that's actually not what he says.

Subtext: Sara is pretty realistic about her expectations of her dad because she's seen this before, but this also applies to her expectations of August, because she knows that he can also slide back into his normal shitty self. Also, she's wearing a purple sweater.

Subtext: In case you forgot, August's dad also struggled with addiction, and died from it, so he and Sara actually has that in common. Maybe there's hope for this redemption arc thing?

Cinematography: I don't fucking know why they included this baking scene. It serves no purpose, and I suspect quite a few people in the production have a serious hand fetish, because what is this? What is this? Also, why are Simon and Wilhelm joining what appears to be a Manor House thing with the rest of the girls? How? Why? This makes no sense! It's very cute, though!

Subtext: Oh ok, we got a social media pic that Sara could see and feel bad for her lost friendships. But man, those Hillerska aprons! On point!

Subtext: This is unfortunately a very common thing for people on any kind of psychoactive medication. How can you tell if you need medication if you feel good right now? Is it lasting or temporary? Can you trust your own brain? Either way, fantastic conversation between Micke and Sara, which starts her on her journey to reconcile with Felice at least.

🎵 I can change, I'm not the same, not forever. 🎵

Culture: The official hat-on-putting ceremony where all the third-year students put on their hats, set to another traditional Swedish spring celebration song: Vårvindar Friska.

Culture: It's Valborg, so Hillerska has their own little bonfire. We saw some students with torches pretending to light it, but it's actually floating in the middle of the fountain so, uh, how did they do that? Normally, your local bonfire or Majbrasa is just a huge heap of wood that you set on fire.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. The fire, the sunset, the pool reflection. The end of April is over a month after the spring equinox, so the days are getting longer, and the sun now sets at about half past nine in the evenings.

Subtext: Ok, let's do one more on-the-nose lyrics thing for when August sees Sara back at school. Yes, yes, he needs her.

Culture: I had to post about it immediately after watching the episode, because setting a sex scene to Uti Vår Hage is hilarious. Everyone in Sweden knows it, most people have sung it at school, it's a cute little song about enjoying your garden, flowers, and giving your loved one a wreath of flowers. I can now never hear this song without thinking about this scene. Thanks a lot, show.

Blink and you miss it: Simon fucks Wilhelm. Yay! Versatile supremacy!

Subtext: Sara is still so suspicious of her dad's behaviour, she can't make herself trust that his current good period will last.

Subtext: Even though this dialogue is about how Simon and Sara are so different, it of course also applies to how Wilhelm and Erik were different, because Wilhelm struggles with not being able to handle his duty the same way Erik could.

Culture: Alright, it's time for the actual local Första Maj event in Bjärstad. The town is probably a bit small to have a proper demonstration parade, but there's people with banners and socialist slogans, and a bunch of local organisations have joined in, including Bjärstad BK, the football club Rosh plays in.

Culture: Meanwhile, the absolutely not socialist rich kids at Hillerska are nursing their hangovers and enjoying the day off, and they're doing some yoga and playing some padel instead. As you do.

Subtext: Drugs. He looks like he's selling drugs.

Culture: These apparently confused a bunch of viewers, but they're just raffle tickets. It's one hundred numbered, rolled up, paper tickets stuck on a metal ring. When you buy a ticket you just tear it off at the perforation, and when all tickets are sold you can just break the seal on the ring and pour all the stubs in a bag or whatever so you can draw winners.

Blink and you miss it: Cute kiddo has a pride pin on his jacket.

Lost in translation: The show waited a bit with showing what it says on the banner behind them in the photo, but if you can read Swedish you immediately saw that it says KROSSA ÖVERKLASSEN - CRUSH THE UPPER CLASSES. Oh no, Simon, what have you done?

Blink and you miss it: Like a pack of rabid wolves, the social-media starved Gen Z kids rush to their phones for an hour of glorious feeding on Instagram and TikTok.

Blink and you miss it: I love Vincent so much, he's terrible, but he's just so much fun! The little fist he makes as he says "kampen" just seals it.

Subtext: The show still hasn't revealed the banner text to the non-Swedish audience, but Wilhelm immediately sees it and knows how bad it is and why Farima tried calling him seven times. Also, Vincent is just on a roll here.

Cinematography: Man, this is a pretty show. Look at that shot. Look at how they perfectly aligned the hole in the window with Simon, the police car, and the entrance to their house, as he discovers that someone decided to vandalize it.

[teamchasezwrites]

Call Me When You’re Sober

Word Count: 7,634

Characters: Damian Priest/OC

Genre: Pre-Romance

Tags: Dirty Talk, Friends to ??, A Libation or Two, Pre-Relationship, Drunken Confessions, Hurt & Comfort

Summary: The drunken confession wasn’t exactly unwelcome…

Author’s Note: Hoping to write a sober follow up in the near future.

Damian Priest shouldered the arena door open and stepped outside. The crisp fall Boston air slapped him in the face, causing a shiver to motor through him. He tugged the neckline of his black leather jacket further up his neck to fight against the chill the low temps brought. Luckily he’s lived in the north for many years, so he was used to the winter cold. Not that he particularly wanted to be hanging outside in freezing temps.

It wasn’t a long walk to his rental in the private parking lot. Then he’d be inside and on his way to the hotel where he planned to take the hottest shower he could stand in hopes the water would soothe his sore muscles. Then he would crawl into bed, find something mindless on television to watch before he fell asleep. Tomorrow, he’d be heading toward the airport and home to New York City to get ready for the upcoming holidays.

Raw was a double taping that night, recording next week’s episode as well so the talent and crew could spend time with their families leading up to Christmas before the bustle of live shows littered the days between Christmas and New Years. He was actually looking forward to the days off the double taping afforded, especially after his work tonight.

First he had a match with his current nemesis, Finn Balor. Their match happened in the last hour of the show. The match was nearly twenty minutes to make up for a scrapped match between Pete Dunn and R-Truth. He heard Pete was having an issue with a muscle spasm and to play it safe, they decided to just ax it. In order to make up the time, his match got extended.

Which was fine. Both he and Finn worked so well together. They threw everything at each other; challenging each other during the match and they were actually able to pull the crowd back into their feud. He knew the fans were getting tired of him and The Judgement Day constantly being at arms. So was he. They were all ready to move on to other storylines. The New Year was set to do just that and he couldn’t wait.

His match with Finn ended in a disqualification as Dom and JD interrupted. He ended up on the ground with his former friends over him victorious. He was comforted by boos raining down on them. For the taping of next week’s episode, he attacked JD in a backstage spot. The scuffle drew Finn and Dom of course. Multiple security guards and referees pulled them apart. To close out the show, he was in a six-man tag team match. Him and the War Raiders versus Finn, JD, and Dom.

This time, he ended the night with his hand raised in victory, but damn was his body feeling it. A hot shower and Ibuprofen was on the agenda tonight.

Damian turned the corner as he pulled keys from the pocket of his black jeans. He was almost to his car when he heard a sound. His steps faltered and slowed, tuning his ear to the sound. The parking lot was well lighted unlike some arenas he performed in. Some everyone made sure to never leave alone. Just in case.

The sound came again and he realized someone was crying. His brows furrowed and he followed the sound. She was standing with her back to him and the parking lot, leaning against the concrete barrier separating them from the access road. He wasn’t sure who it was, until the bowed head came up revealing the brown mass of wavy curls.

Cassie.

The ‘Queen of Hearts’ wrestler spent the majority of her career on the Smackdown roster. It wasn’t until this past year where she was traded to Raw during the draft. One of the few wrestlers who actually changed shows. She was shy and a little naïve and a lot introverted which was a little funny considering their profession. Rhea’s extraverted self eventually wore her down. Cassie hadn’t stood a chance.

That’s how he became enraptured by her.

Shy at first with everyone but Rhea, Cassie eventually warmed up to him, Finn, and Dom. Rhea would make Cassie sit with them when they were in catering. She would squish into their rental to go back to the hotel. She’d hang out in the locker room with them. She’d hang with them while they checked out the various cities.

During this time, Damian slowly found himself catching feelings.

“Cassie? Are you okay?” Damian asked softly as he walked up behind her.

Cassie froze at the voice. A quick tinge of fear rushed through her initially, not expecting to hear a voice. Recognizing Damian’s voice, her body relaxed. She stuffed her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and swiped her fingers beneath her eyes, erasing the evidence of her tears. She took a deep shuttering breath as she fought to settle her emotions. When she felt she was okay, she turned around to face Damian.

“Hey,” Damian took a step closer. He gave a quick perusal of the area, but didn’t see anyone or anything to warrant suspicions. They were alone. He could just make out the tear stains on her cheeks. The wet eye lashes. A rush of protectiveness swarmed him. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m okay,” she said softly, sending him a small smile that wobbled as more tears threatened. “Just family stuff.”

Damian nodded, relaxing the vigilant stance he held. “I understand that. Holidays don’t make it any easier either.”

She snorted. “I figured not being back home would leave me out of things but…” she huffed as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m pulled in the middle anyway. I just…” her voice broke and she lifted a hand to pinch at the corner of her eyes in an effort to stop the new tears.

Damian’s heart lurched at her tears and the way she hid her face from him. “Ah Princesa,” he dropped his bag to the ground and stepped forward drawing her into a hug. With their height difference, her head tucked under his chin perfectly. She didn’t wrap her arms around his waist like he hoped, but kept her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders shook with quiet tears, like she was ashamed to be crying in front of him.

He wanted to tell her to let go. He would shoulder her pain. She could lean on him as much as she needed. He would protect her. Everything would be okay; he would make sure of it.

But he couldn’t.

She didn’t know his feelings. He did a good job keeping them under wraps.

“Come on,” Damian said in a low voice when her tears quieted. Her breaths still hitched, causing her shoulders to jolt in his arms. “Let me give you a ride to the hotel.”

Cassie nodded and lifted her head as she stepped out of his arms. The cold penetrated her once again and she shivered. Her coat was back home in Philadelphia, not wanting to travel with it. Instead she relied on a hoodie if she went out, but with the double taping, the majority of her time was spent at the arena.

“Do you have your bag?” Damian felt the loss immediately. He forced himself to reach for the strap of his bag and not for her. He hooked the strap on his shoulder and reached for hers laying near the concrete wall. Once he had both bags, he nodded in the direction of his rental.

The ride was mostly silent, broken only by the low volume of the radio and her occasional sniffles. She never spoke and he never offered conversation. She sat in the passenger seat with her head turned to stare out the window. He wanted to offer a comforting hand, but her hands were both stuffed beneath the thigh of the leg she had crossed over the other. Her posture was definitely reading, ‘don’t.’

Damian just settled in the driver’s seat and tried to be content with the bonus time he received in her presence.

At the hotel, he pulled into a parking spot and grabbed their bags from the backseat. She walked next to him, their shoulders brushing. In the glow of the outside lights, he saw her eyes were dry and he was thankful she stopped crying. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe her tears were over for the night. Probably waiting until she was back in her room alone.

Once they were inside the lobby, they made their way to the elevators. The car was waiting and the doors opened immediately. Inside he pressed the button to the sixth floor and looked at her expectantly. “What floor are you on?”

“Four,” Cassie answered. Her face burned in embarrassment at falling apart on him. “Listen Damian…”

“Hold the door!”

Cassie’s words were cut off and she quickly reached a hand out to stop the doors from closing. Then was pushed out of the way as Sonya, Shayna, Zoey, and Zelina filed in along with their wheeled suitcases. She was herded to the back next to Damian as the four women situated themselves on the elevator.

“Hey!” Zelina greeted her with a smile. “Great match tonight!”

“Thanks,” Cassie smiled as the door closed and the elevator began its assent. She was part of the tournament to crown the first ever Women’s Intercontinental Champion. The opening round was a bunch of triple threat matches. She wrestled tonight with Iyo Sky and Natalya to air during next week’s episode. It was supposed to be Kairi, but she was taken out with an injury after the other three women in the elevator attacked her to set up a feud between the Pure Fusion Collective and Kairi’s Damage CTRL. Iyo eventually won.

It was a bitter pill to swallow since she was supposed to win, but swerves happened all the time. She just hoped Creative had something for her in the New Year.

The elevator dinged before she could comment on Zelina’s own triple threat match. As the other ladies started to clear the elevator, she glanced at Damian, who was silent the whole ride. She sent him a smile, still embarrassed to have cried on him and reached for the bag he still carried. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

Damian’s low voice wrapped around her. Their fingers brushed as he handed her bag to her.

Damian wanted to keep her near him longer, but he had no idea what to say. He wished Rhea was with them. She could draw them both to her room for whatever and takeout. With a small wave of her hand, he watched her follow the rest of the wrestlers off the elevator leaving him alone. As the door closed he caught their conversation.

“Hey, we’re going out in about thirty. There is this really great bar Zoey wants to check out. Wanna come?”

“Well I don’t…” He could hear the hesitation in her voice and held his breath when Zelina practically begged Cassie.

The doors close and the elevator rose, but Damian could still hear Cassie giving in.

*~*

Almost one am and Damian was still wide awake. All he could think about was Cassie’s tear filled gaze. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but couldn’t think of an excuse. Plus he didn’t want to do it in front of an audience. He didn’t have the kind of friendship with Cassie as he did with Rhea. If he caught Rhea crying in the parking lot, he would have gathered her in his arms, herding her back to the hotel, and take her back to his room. He would have ordered take out and put a movie on.

He was also still wide awake because she went from tears in the parking lot to being drug out to a bar. He wasn’t sure how close she was to those girls. Would they watch her? Make sure she didn’t drink too much? She was obviously hurting…

He didn’t even know if she was still out. For all he knew, she could already be back and fast asleep unaware she was the reason he couldn’t sleep.

Blowing out a breath, he rolled over and reached for his phone. She was a grown woman. He didn’t know why he was so worried. She probably went out a lot of times he didn’t know about. He didn’t know why tonight was any different. Maybe it was because he couldn’t erase the image of her tear stained face looking up at him with tears clinging to her lashes. Couldn’t erase the feel of her body against his even as hers shook with sobs.

Browsing Instagram, Damian saw no new posts from her except the previous shared post promoting her upcoming triple threat match airing next week. Disappointment set in as he watched her match from backstage with Rhea. Rhea yelled at the TV, while he sat quietly keeping his thoughts to himself. He would have laughed at Rhea’s excitement for Iyo’s victory and the anger at Cassie’s loss if he hadn’t been gutted for her loss at the same time.

Another universe he would have been waiting in Gorilla for her to appear.

No postings of the night’s bar trip were from none of the other girls either.

Damian told himself he just wanted to check on her, make sure she was okay. He didn’t know how she reacted to emotional issues. Sometimes he went out and got trashed. Sometimes he picked up an unknown woman for a night of fun. Other times he shut himself up in his apartment or hotel room and brooded ignoring everything and everyone.

Did she do the same? Was she out there getting trashed before stumbling back to her hotel room? Was she picking up some loser who didn’t deserve to even stand in the same vicinity? His hand folded into a tight fist at the thought. Before he could stop himself, he was sending a text to Rhea.

‘U up?’

It took too long for his liking for Rhea to answer him

‘No.’

Damian snorted at Rhea’s answer.

‘Can you find out where Shayna, Zoey, and the rest went tonight?’

The dots appeared and disappeared a few times. Damian understood. While friendly, the newest female faction wasn’t who he normally spent time with.

‘Why?’

Damian wondered what Rhea really wanted to say before she settled on the simple noun. Now he was left with having to explain why he wanted the information. Rhea wouldn’t let him get away with anything less than the truth. She wouldn’t believe he was just curious.

‘Cassie went out with them.’

‘Ahhh…’

Damian waited for the teasing to come. He was sure Rhea didn’t know about his crush, but maybe she did.

‘Why in the world would she go out with them?’

‘She was upset. Family stuff I guess. I caught her crying outside the arena when I left. Brought her back to the hotel with me where they snatched her up.’

‘You let her go???’

‘What was I supposed to do? Tie her up?’

‘A little drastic. That would probably scare her away. You gotta hide your crazy until it’s too late.’

Damian grew antsy but Rhea’s next text was the name of the bar.

Armed with the information, Damian stood up and dressed in the same clothes he’d taken off just a few hours before. Making sure he had his wallet and room key, he snatched the rental key from the table and left his room before he could talk himself out of going.

It didn’t take long before he was parking his car a block away from the bar. The bar was packed given the late night hour and it being a Monday night, but who was he to judge. The holidays tended to have that affect on people. The music was loud. The conversation louder. The sound of balls breaking signified a pool table somewhere in the madness.

Damian’s eyes swept the room; meeting and dismissing many. They weren’t the ones he was looking for. He wasn’t here for a good time. He was here for one reason.

And that reason was tucked on the lap of some clean cut guy with a wide grin. Damian watched as Cassie downed the shot in her hand to the cheers of the table. Two other men egged her on to take another. He could read the looks exchanged between them just as easy as if their words appeared in a bubble above their head as she reached for the shot glass filled by the man whose lap she sat on.

His jaw clenched painfully, his molars grinding together. She wiggled on the man’s lap. His hands gripped her waist holding her steady and he knew he was pressing his cock into her ass. He wanted to send his fist right into the smiling face and break those perfectly straight white teeth.

Maybe he should have sent Rhea to save her.

Then again, Rhea might react worse than him.

The shot in Cassie’s hand lifted and her head titled back. In the same movement, the man’s hand reached up copping a feel of her breast. The fabric nearly pulled down to give a show to the table who were practically drooling over their own liquor glasses.

His feet moved, cutting through the patrons quickly. Satisfaction coursed through him seeing the eyes of the two men who didn’t have their hands in inappropriate places widen. Their laughter died suddenly as he stopped in front of them.

Anger rolled off him.

“Damian!”

Damian’s arms were immediately filled with a warm, wiggling, very drunk female body. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pressed against him.

“Hi Princesa,” his lightened voice a direct contraction against the menacing look he was sending to the men behind her.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” She grinned as her arms fell from his neck to his chest. The muscles were hard beneath her hands and she curled her fingers into the skin. She licked her lips as she swayed toward him.

Damian couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he stared down at her. She was clearly very drunk. The red of her cheeks. The wide pupils. The slight slur of her words. The weight gone from her shoulders. Her muscles relaxed and languid. Copious amounts of touching. Her hands were all over him. Running up and down his chest, his waist and up his back.

“I just got here Corazòn.”

“Nice,” Cassie grinned, her hands moving to his back and she hugged him again. “I’m glad you came. I was hoping you would.”

The twinkle in her eye caused his heart to skip. “I’m actually your ride home…” Damian let the fib slip. He was certain he had hearts in his eyes as he watched her frown with her eyebrows drawn in confusion as she tried to decipher his words. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and that move caused his cock to take notice. ‘Down boy,’ he thought.

Cassie lifted her arm to stare at the watch wrapped on her left wrist. She stumbled on her feet and nearly went down until warm hands grabbed her waist. Looking up, her breath caught as she met Damian’s dark brown eyes. Her hand fell on his bicep as she straightened. Her body pressed against his, her eyes never wavering. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Damian grinned. If he wasn’t in love with her before, he was after that look. “You ready to go?”

“Where we goin?” Cassie grinned.

“Back to the hotel.”

“Okay,” Cassie turned back toward the table, frowning seeing it empty. The table was littered with empty shot glasses, beer glasses, high ball glasses, and a pitcher. The chairs pushed back from the table. She reached for the remaining half empty glass containing Bud Light. “I wanted you to meet my friends.”

“Maybe next time.” A single glare over Cassie’s head had them cutting their losses and scattering into the crowd. No doubt searching for someone else to talk into going home with them. He tried to find himself to care about the next unsuspecting girl, but he couldn’t. There was only one woman he cared about and she was currently chugging the rest of the beer in her glass.

“You sure we have to leave?”

Damian nearly gave in when she stared up at him with big doe eyes. Ready to sit in one of the vacated chairs, pull her down in his lap, and order a drink. He nodded his head and gently took her arm to lead her away from table and toward the front of the building.

As they reached the door to leave the bar, the bartender yelled, ‘Last call!’ to the disappointment of the many patrons. He drew her closer when they made it to the sidewalk. When she shivered against the cold, he stopped and slid his jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She swayed on her feet, but didn’t fall. When her eyes met his, she sent him a smile.

In a different time… in a different dynamic, he would have taken her face in his hands and kissed her smiling lips.

“Come on Corazòn,” Damian wrapped his arm around her waist and led her down the street to his car. Their steps were disjointed with her inability to walk straight. Every stumble caused her to giggle and clutch him tighter with the hand around his back. He found it hard to care about their slow pace with her hand on him.

Reaching his car, he patted the front pocket of his jeans searching for the keys. His pockets were empty. He had a moment of fright before he heard the giggle next to him. Looking up, he saw her holding his keys in the air.

“Looking for these?”

The keys must have been in the pocket of his jacket. He reached up to take them when she pulled them away. The movement nearly sent her to the ground.

“Nuh huh,” Cassie laughed.

“Come on Corazòn, give me the keys so we can get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” Cassie clutched the keys in her hand, swaying toward Damian.

“Back to the hotel…” Damian’s eyes widened when she moved right into his space. Her hands pressed against his stomach. His muscles twitched beneath her touch. Her hands crawled up his chest to entwine around his neck and his breath caught when she pushed up on her tip toes.

“You didn’t even buy me a drink,” Cassie teased, scrapping her nails over the nape of his neck. His close shaved hair rough on her fingertips.

“Next time Corazòn.” Damian reached up to untangle her arms from around his neck before he did something stupid like kiss her. He was unable to stop from pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he slipped the car keys from her grasp.

When he unlocked the door, Damian helped her into the car. It was pure torture being this close to her – so pliant… so ready… but he would never take advantage of her. The seatbelt proved to be too much of an adversary and he took pity on her. He leaned down and pulled the seatbelt across her body. A shivered worked through him when he felt her lips on his cheek. Then nearly lost his balance when she nipped his ear.

“Behave Corazòn.”

“Sorry,” she giggled sitting back in the seat.

“You are trouble,” Damian clicked the belt in place and backed away. He shut the door and quickly rounded the front of the car getting into the driver’s seat. More of the bar patrons spilled onto the sidewalk and he wanted to get away before he was stopped by a fan.

Starting the car, he quickly checked the mirrors before he pulled out onto the street.

“What’s your passcode?”

Damian looked over at the question and saw his phone in her hand. The screen lit up with a number pad waiting for his passcode to be entered before the phone unlocked. “How’d you get my phone?”

“It was in your coat,” Cassie grinned. “Please?”

Just like that, Damian found himself giving her his passcode. ‘The minx,’ he thought as he chuckled. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do too much damage control with any messages she sent or posted to any of his accounts. Switching into the left lane, he put his turn signal on and stopped at the red light.

“Here, hurry up before it turns green!” Cassie held the phone out in front of her with her right hand and leaned toward Damian.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked, glancing at her.

“Taking a selfie! Hurry before the light turns!”

Damian shook his head, but he shifted in the seat to lean toward the center counsel. The camera was up on his phone. He smiled as she leaned even closer to him, her temple resting on his cheek. The light turned green as she was moving back to her seat. He hit the gas making the turn to head back to the hotel.

Cassie grinned as she pulled up his Instagram account and posted the photo.

‘Uber driver. Highly recommend. Five stars.’

“What are you doing?” Damian asked, hearing the giggles. “Corazòn, if you’re posting crazy stuff…”

“I’m not!” Cassie insisted. She drew up his messages and opened a new one. She attached the selfie and typed in her name. Nothing came up. She frowned. Erasing the name, she typed it in again, hoping her contact info would come up.

“What’s wrong?” The drive was quick in the dead of night. The hotel loomed in front of him.

“I wanted to send this to me, but you don’t have my number…”

“I don’t think so. Just put your number in.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Damian asked as he was pulled into the hotel parking lot.

“I can’t remember it.”

Damian laughed as he pulled into the empty spot he vacated not that long ago.

“Oh!” Cassie shouted suddenly and typed in Rhea’s name. The text thread came up and she brought the phone closer to her eyes. The letters blurring in front of her.

‘Send this photo to me.’

’Cassie.’

‘I can’t remember my number.’

‘I think I drank too much.’

She giggled as she tucked his phone back in the coat pocket.

“You’re trouble Corazòn.” Damian killed the engine and climbed from the car. He made his way to the passenger side where he opened her door and helped her out. She swayed on her feet and he reached to steady her. “You good?”

Cassie nodded. The movement caused her vision to blur. Her hand clutched his bicep as she waited for the world to right itself. She blew out her breath and smiled up at him as they walked into the hotel. “What does Corazòn mean?”

It was Damian’s turn to stumble. His face heated in embarrassment. The endearment slipped out accidentally earlier and he hadn’t been able to stop using it. Her being impaired felt like a free chance to get away with something so innocent.

“Is it bad?” Cassie leaned against him as they stopped at the elevator.

“Is what bad?” Damian asked, buying time. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He kept her close as he hit the number 4.

“Corazòn? Is it bad?”

He cursed under his breath at her small voice. “No. It’s not bad. It means sweetheart.”

“I like that,” Cassie said as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. “Corazòn,” she repeated softly. A warmness flowed through her.

“What’s your room number?” Damian asked. When she stepped off earlier, he hadn’t noticed the direction she took.

“426.”

Damian turned them to the right and walked halfway down the quiet hallway until they came to her door. He watched as she started patting her pockets. The front of her jeans turned up empty. The left back pocket revealed her phone. A sobering thought went through him. What if she gave her room key to the douche at the bar? If that was the case, there was no way he would let her stay in her room. He’d take her to his… Rhea’s…

That would be safer.

He opened his mouth to suggest staying elsewhere when she finally produced her room key. She held it up triumphantly in her hand along with her driver’s license, and folded up cash.

“Success!” She grinned. She frowned when she noticed the cash in her hand. “I drank a lot for someone who didn’t buy a drink all night.”

Damian laughed. “I bet.”

He watched her struggle to keep her hand still enough for the keypad on the door to read the room key. He wrapped his hand around hers to hold it steady. The light turned green. He tugged the handle down and pushed the door open allowing her to enter first. For a moment he thought about letting it shut with her safely inside and he outside, but then she stumbled and fell into the wall.

Stepping into the room, his mind shouted he was entering a dangerous zone. He should leave her to her own devices. Have Rhea check on her in the morning. Obviously glutton for punishment, he stayed. He told himself he was only going to get her shoes off and get her into bed. Fully clothed. Make sure her phone was plugged in with an alarm set. Then he would leave and go back to his own room.

Maybe get her to take some Advil before she passed out. She would definitely be hating life in the morning.

“Are we having a sleepover?”

She looked so cute dwarfed in his jacket. Smiling, he shook his head. “No sleepover. I’m going to make sure you get in to bed.”

Cassie frowned at his words and Damian watched as she made her way forward to stand in front of him. He looked down in her eyes. Her arms once again entwined around his neck and she went up on her tip toes again. Her lips a whispered away. He knew he should step away but he couldn’t. His feet were glued to the floor. “You can…get in to bed with me…Corazòn…”

It was the whispered Spanish term of endearment. It made him weak. Weak enough to lower his head and brush his lips against hers. She tasted of alcohol and the spicy hint of cinnamon. Her lips were soft and pliant. When he ran his tongue along her bottom lip, her lips parted with a sigh. He chased the taste of cinnamon in her mouth as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his body. His tongue stroked against hers, exploring the cavern until he knew it as well as his own.

He withdrew his tongue and the noise she made in protest hit deep in his gut. Her hands clutched the front of his hoodie; the material gripped tight in her hands, pulling it hard across his chest. The whispered, wanton ‘more’ from her mouth caused all the blood to rush below his belt to his hardening cock.

“Damian,” she whispered pressing closer. She felt the hard cock against her belly. Desire pooled at her center and she clenched around nothing feeling empty.

“Cassie,” Damian murmured against her lips. His hands traced down her back over his coat to her ass. He cupped the globes, encased in tight jeans, in his hands and pressed her into his cock, manipulating her hips to move against him.

“I need you…”

Damian froze when he felt her hands at the front of his jeans, trying to work the button open and lower the zipper. He brought one of his hands to wrap around hers, stopping the movement. A low moan escaped from his throat as her hand pressed against his cock. Her fingers working in small ministrations unable to fully move her hand because of his hold. His eyes drifted closed. His free hand threaded through her hair, a much safer location than her ass. He pressed her against his chest as he breathed heavily.

“Please…”

It took everything he had to take a step back. Their hands fell from the front of his jeans. His cock pressed painfully against his zipper, begging to be released. “Wait…” Damian knew he needed to gather control quickly.

“I don’t wanna wait,” Cassie murmured, lifting her head.

Damian bit back a groan. Her lips were puffy and reddened from his kisses.

“I want you…” Cassie dropped her hands from him to slip her arms from his jacket. The leather jacket fell to the floor with a muffled thud as his phone hit the thin carpet. “I’ve wanted you for awhile…”

Damian’s eyes flared at the piece of information. He wished he knew it before he pulled her drunken self from the bar. He stepped back from her when she stepped forward and found himself with his back against the wall separating the room from the bathroom. She pressed a hand on his chest and let it trail down his body. The internal fight had him grabbing her hand just before it reached his cock.

“Let me suck you,” she whispered swaying toward him. “Please. I’ve dreamed about it. I’ve dreamt about dropping to my knees in front of you. Pressing my face into your crotch. Breathing you in. Mouthing you through your clothes before pulling the zipper down. Reaching in and baring you to me…” she licked her lips as her mouth filled with saliva as it would in hunger… and she was hungry. Could already feel the weight of his cock on her tongue.

Damian moaned, his eyes closing as his head fell back. His cock twitched in his jeans, eagerly wanting Cassie to do just as she begged. He wanted to let her fall to her knees in front of him. He wanted to hold his cock in his hand as he fed it to her. “We can’t…” The hardest words he ever had to speak.

“That’s okay. I got a list of things I want to do to you… with you.”

He was only a man. A weak man apparently. One definitely glutton for more punishment as if the night hadn’t doled out enough already. “What else?”

Cassie reached out and squeezed his bicep; the hard muscle hidden from view because of his hoodie. “I’ve wanted you to pick me up and fuck me against the wall. Hold me above your cock before lowering me until I’m impaled…”

“Jesus Christ,” Damian groaned. His cock championed that position. To rid her of those skin tight jeans and press her to the wall behind him. Lower his jeans just enough to release his weeping cock and send himself home with one thrust.

“I want to strip you naked. Lay you down on the bed and trace every single tattoo with my tongue until I get to your cock…” Cassie reached for his hand with both of hers. She maneuvered his fingers leaving his pointer finger up. She brought their hands to her lips, where she swiped the pad of his finger with her tongue. “Then I’ll suck your cock…” At his swift intake of breath, she drew his finger into her mouth. Sinking down on the digit in a lewd manner. Her tongue teased the underside as she withdrew. The finger fell from her mouth with a pop.

“I wanna climb on top of you and ride your cock… With your hands on my hips in a bruising grip. I don’t have tattoos, but I’d wear those marks proudly. I wanna sink on your hard cock, slamming down on you, taking you deep inside me. I wanna ride you until completion… coming apart on your cock. Then I want you to roll me over and take me from behind. Pounding in me, while pulling my hair. Taking what you need until you explode. Your cum deep inside of me.”

With his free hand, Damian reached down and squeezed his denim clad cock, trying to stave off coming. The bed was right behind her. He could tear off her clothes and toss her down. Mount her from behind; pistoning in and out of her until completion. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long.

“I also want to straddle your face. Press my pussy down on your mouth forcing your tongue to lick me. Feeling your tongue inside of me. You licking and sucking on my clit. Your arms hooked on my thighs not letting me go. You can’t breath, you’re consumed by me… the smell… the taste of my pussy…God you keep licking. My thighs are quaking until I’m screaming out your name coming all over your lips.”

Damian was nearing the end of his rope. He knew if he shoved his hand down her pants he’d find her dripping. A slight musky scent of arousal hung in the air. It made him want to be the one to drop to his knees and press his face against her center. Toss one of her legs over his shoulders, baring her to him. He wanted to lick until those thighs quaked. Lick until she coated his cheeks with her essence.

“I also want you to take me in the locker room or in a dark hallway at the arena… fast and quick and hard… your hand pressed over my mouth to keep me quiet because someone could find us…I want you to tie me to my bed and make me beg… beg you to kiss me. Beg you to touch me. To put your mouth on me. I want you to mark me. Sucking bruising bites on my skin. My neck… my breasts…my thighs. I want you to mark me with your cum. Watch you with your hand on your cock, stroking up and down, until you explode… your cum painting my body…” Cassie hummed, her eyes falling shut. “I want to watch you stroke yourself. Your hand moving on your cock. See the muscles on your arm dancing as you grip your cock. Your thumb swirling on the head through the pre cum. Watch you lick your hand for a better glide…those thick fingers wrapping around your cock.”

Cassie’s eyes opened and trapped his. “I need to feel those fingers inside of me. One… two… three… stuffing me full…” A breathy moan released from between her lips. “Damian…Corazòn… kiss me. Please…”

Damian could no more refuse the plea than he could stop breathing. With a hand cupping her jaw, he titled her head up as he lowered his. Their lips met in a soft kiss – a much softer kiss than he was feeling after listening to her describe what she wanted to do to him or what she wanted him to do to her. He could feel her trying to push it further, but he kept it light. Their lips moving together.

When she swayed, he broke the kiss and pulled her head to rest on his chest. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath to try to get a reign on his anatomy. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Surprisingly she gave no resistance. As he removed her black booties and socks from her feet, she never tried to hit on him. She stayed silent as he knelt on the ground, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance. When he stood up, he reached for the black fitted long sleeve turtleneck shirt. Again, she simply lifted her arms over her head and allowed him to pull it off. His eyes gave a quick glance over the black lace bra before he averted his gaze. He didn’t need any more fodder for his late night activities but he would love to press his lips to the soft mounds encased in the lacy fabric. To tease her nipples through the lace drawing them into stiff peaks before he sucked on them.

“My shirt…”

Damian saw the black t-shirt thrown on the end of the bed and grabbed it. Then, like dressing a child, he pulled it down over her head. He stared in shock as the purple print came into view. It was one of his merchandise shirts.

Cassie giggled as she gripped the hem and pulled the shirt away from her body to straighten the fabric. “Rhea gave it to me as a joke. She knows how much I like Damian…”

Damian’s eyes flickered back to Cassie’s in confusion. Her eyes were glazed and he frowned at the far away look in them. The alcohol apparently had taken over her body. He knew from his own experience she was about ready to be gone from the world.

“But you can’t tell him.”

Damian chuckled softly at the secretive whisper in Cassie’s voice. “Why not?” He told himself not to push anymore. He picked his leather jacket up from the floor where Cassie dropped it.

“Because I know he doesn’t like me.”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Damian asked, interested to hear the answer.

“I’m dorky. I’m too short. I’m too shy. I like country music. I don’t really like going out. I like to stay home…” Cassie reached for her jeans, her fingers fumbling with the button.

“I have it on good authority that he likes you.” Already pushing the line, Damian reached out and undid the button of her jeans and pulled the zipper down. With both hands, he pushed the jeans down her hips. Stumbling a little when she decided to sit down on the bed. He knelt at her feet and pulled the jeans from her legs. His hands twitched to run up and down those smooth legs. From her small, dainty feet capped with dark purple nail polish, all the way up to her thighs.

“That’s what Rhea said…” Cassie fell back onto the bed on her back. Her eyes drifting shut. She offered no resistance when she felt her body being lifted and moved. Her head came down on a soft, cool pillow. Soon a blanket covered her body and warmth settled her. Her eye lids felt heavy – too heavy to open.

He was gonna buy Rhea breakfast in the morning. Damian grabbed her discarded jeans and dug her phone out of the pocket. The lock screen lit up showing a few notifications – from Amazon, The Weather Channel, SnapChat, and an alarm found, along with a text from Rhea.

‘Why are you texting me from Damian’s phone???? Did you finally tell him?!’

He smirked at the text. Toyed with the thought of texting from Cassie’s phone, but ultimately plugged it on to the charger next to the bed. He placed the other items from her jeans next to her phone before tossing the jeans over the open suitcase. Looking around, he realized it was time to go.

Before he left, he was unable to stop himself from leaning down and placing a kiss on Cassie’s forehead.

“I love you Damian.”

Damian’s breath caught at the whisper. The words warmed him from the inside out, settling something deep in his soul. Tilting his head down, his eyes met hers. Time and alcohol weighing heavily on them. “Cassie…”

“I do. You’re kind and patient. You’re fun to be around. Funny. Accepting. I love how you love your family. How you work hard and keep pushing no matter what Creative or life throws at you. You’re supportive. I love your friendship with Rhea. It makes me jealous at times and I wish I can be that easy with you. I love how you always smile when you see me. How you ask how I’m doing and about my family. I love your arms. I love how I felt safe and protected the few times you hugged me. Like nothing could ever hurt me when I’m in your arms. I love your smile and the way one side tilts up. It makes my heart skip a beat. I love your laugh. How you make me laugh. I love your voice. How deep it is. Your accent…I get butterflies. I love your eyes. They’re so expressive. How they somehow sparkle when you’re happy even though they are so dark. How they crinkle when you smile. They make me melt…”

Damian nearly jumped when he felt the caress on his hand. Looking down he watched Cassie’s fingers brush over the back of his hand.

“Your hands… I love the shape of them. The long fingers… the veins on the back. The amount of roughness on the palm. I stare at them often. Not just imagining how they’d feel on my body, but how they would look holding my hand. How it would feel brushing my hair away from my face. I love your beautiful skin – tanned and tattooed. How tall you are…and how perfectly we’d fit together despite the height differences. How strong you are… not just physically…you could shoulder all my worries and fears…”

Her voice grew softer and softer as she lost the battle with consciousness, but he never heard anyone more clearly. Damian had many relationships over the years dating back to his junior high days. None of them ever compared to what he was feeling right now. He felt complete for the first time in his life; like a missing piece had slid home. His heart felt full.

Leaning down, Damian brushed his lips against hers. He kept it soft and light and was surprised when he felt the small movement of her lips against his. “Tell me when you’re sober, Corazòn and I’ll give you the world.”

[jess-the-vampire]

Happy Arborgeist Day/ Hurl'ullack!

Checked out the storyboard for another deleted s1 episode "No Tree Left Behind"

You can read it here:

An episode about boiling isles holidays and traditions? interlaced with eda and lilith's sister drama? This one was actually pretty interesting, and got me even a little sad, despite it absolutely being non canon now.

Thoughts on the cut episode below:

Honestly this board really serves to remind me we didn't get to know a ton about the actual culture of the Boiling isles, like we kinda get to know the stuff witches do on the isles, what they eat, and the everyday stuff they get into....but not so much about it's culture. You can kinda chalk that up to belos a little but this boarded episode was basically about keeping tradition and making new memories, even in spite of change, so it more or less feels like the crew either didn't have time for this or had other things to focus on.

So the culture of the island is a lot more in the background in the actual series as it keeps it's focus more on the characters dealing with their personal issues and with the conflict at hand.

Speaking of which, despite belos being the bad guy for his hatred and fear of witches, can't deny....the culture of the isles is quite disturbing at times that i can understand that not all humans are gonna have luz's extreme acceptance. Like king's holiday is primarily the celebration of demon overlords and is very casual about maiming others to present to the deity when talking about it. If the isles was a real place i think most humans would be a bit disturbed.

Anyways, king's part of the episode, while funny at times, is the least interesting of the two, the real emotional core is the A plot with eda and luz.

(I did think the scene with willow and gus was fun tho)

There is one scene where i think another demon calls king insensitive for putting the wrong bloodthirsty battle painting of demon history on display and king being like "Tomatoes, tomatoes, it's all the same and not a big deal", and the guy gets SUPER offended and i don't know how to take this scene.

Eda is such a menace during the holidays my god

Luz trying to tell Eda it's ok if her celebration tree is gone because she and her mama celebrated all holidays even if it wasn't on the correct day, and it was more about family in the end then the tree itself.

Only for it to be revealed this tree meant so much to eda because it reminded her of the days she and her sister got along is actually pretty heartbreaking.

Even Lilith, who, despite threatening luz's life to get her way, still has a moment of sadness for the fallen tree you can really feel from the panels. It's really good.

We get some moments for both the construction coven and the plant coven, though the construction coven acts more like.....an actual construction team.

The plant coven members being old guys had some fun jokes tho, think it's cute one wanted to intern willow at the end.

Also kiki cameo.

I know this is a canned episode, but i'm a bit glad we don't have an episode where some of the jokes are about eda telling luz their holiday traditions involve them all being naked and dancing around a tree, this....would of been taken a weird way.

also witches might be able to remove their SKIN??????!!!!

Also this board just remined me how inconvenient it really is that the coven guards don't have palisman, like eda just.....easily flies away from them and they can't catch up to her. Like this is an incredibly bad security system if your trained guards can't even fly up and chase after criminals, like my god.

One reason for sure you know this is basically non canon is apparently the tree in question, the Arborgeist. Is the tree that eda made her staff from, and there's only 10 of these on the entire isles that i assume supply all the palisman.

Basically, these were the proto palistrom trees.

I can kinda see why this was changed, like even if we take it that belos is cutting them down for his palisman eating, this would just raise the question why he's doing it NOW of all times. But on top of that, these rare trees that apparently only show up once per generation all being cut down at once feels like the kinda thing that would REALLY tick off the isles, especially if all palisman are being supplied by it.

Having the trees just be a normal thing that was depleting due to his consumption makes both him seem less suspicious, and the witches seem less dumb for just being....ok that they're not going to make staffs anymore.

It's implied they don't protest mostly out of fear, but still.

Also belos's, i assume fake, reasoning for chopping down the trees is apparently "We can't have you people celebrating non-coven holidays" and it's just, it's so petty.

granted, it's much more meaningful to actually SEE the tree being cut then having it be stated offscreen like in the show. Like even the resolution to this episode, as in, finding a sapling they plant, is still an offscreen thing in the final series. Where they just talk about replanting trees.

And of course, we gotta have a dance party ending, tho i do think the last scene tying back to the tale eda told about the holiday is very cute.

So it seems a lot of elements of this episode were more split between multiple episodes.

Still, a pretty decent episode, moreso for the main plot but the boards do great at really making you feel for eda and lilith despite it not even being animated.

[p0ckykiss]

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan

summary - how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages

-> sick y/n, worried jeonghan, fluff, established relationship, soft jeonghan!!!!, whipped jeonghan

seasonal depression is a real thing. at least, according to you it is. personally, jeonghan had never experienced it. its entire premise just didn't really make sense, is all. watching the leaves change colors and fall was beautiful, and when winter rolled around the corner, so did the holidays and days off. if anything, wasn't that a reason to be happier?

a sneeze interrupts his train of thought, and jeonghan feels a pang in his chest at the sight.

it's officially been three days with you being flu-struck, and you both hoped it would've gotten better by now, but if anything it only seemed to have gotten worse. the time reads a quarter past two, and jeonghan can't help but sigh. 

you've been stuck on the couch since noon, curled up in your warmest blanket trying to watch the latest sitcom episode. your drowsiness is palpable, and every time you reach for a tissue to blow your nose, jeonghan flinches.

if seasonal depression corresponded with your well-being, then maybe jeonghan relates to it more than he thinks. and though jeonghan is chock-full of sympathy, his urgency to comfort you proves stronger.

and so jeonghan begins to rack his brain for different methods to make you feel better. and somehow his memories digress to the day you both took the love language test, even before you started dating. much to his embarrassment, jeonghan doesn't actually remember what your love language is, and he's way too prideful to ask. luckily, the nostalgia ends with the spark of a lightbulb, and jeonghan smiles. he knows exactly what to do. 

— 

the quest to rediscover your love language begins with the first type: words of affirmation.

slowly, jeonghan saunters over to you, trailing his fingertips over the leather of the couch, then over the fabric of the blanket, gently and gradually, until they find their way to your shoulder, and jeonghan leans down so you're promptly face to face. the quiet chatter from the TV fills up empty space, but it's not enough to force jeonghan to speak loudly. so he doesn't. instead, he inches ever so closer, until he can make out every beauty mark on your face, and he breathes, hardly above a whisper, "you're so beautiful."

in an attempt to play the compliment off, you merely roll your eyes. you blame your illness, though, when you can't contain the slightest inklings of a smile forming, nor the red flush that threatens to overtake your cheeks. you pair a gentle slap against jeonghan's arm with the statement, "i look like shit," and the accusation, "you're just saying that to make me feel better."

if it was even possible, jeonghan moves in closer, propping one hand on the couch arm for support so he could lift his other hand to rest perfectly under your chin. jeonghan swipes his thumb over your skin, hot to the touch, but he can't tell if it's from a blush or from the fever. "you might be right," jeonghan concedes, humming as he takes in every detail of your current state—rosy nose, puffy eyes, dry skin, messy hair—and yet jeonghan can't seem to find any flaws. inspection complete, jeonghan searches for the one thing he knows he can find. ever so faintly, glimmers dance in your eyes, and when jeonghan catches them with his own, like he's done before a million times, he repeats himself. "you might be right. i could just be saying that to make you feel better." jeonghan tucks one of many stray hairs behind your ear before reaching down to cup your hands together, "but that doesn't make it any less true."

and jeonghan can see it, can physically see it, how all of your insecurities instantly crumble, like a house of cards collapsing upon itself, melting away to make room for new walls, sturdier this time, built from affirmations and confidence and care.

a verbal response isn't required. all you do is smile, subtly, so that your lips barely curve up, and you close your eyes. but even this speaks volumes, because it's your cue of absorbing all the good things around you, no matter how small. it's also jeonghan's cue to add one final speck of positivity to your realm with a sweet kiss to your forehead, before he takes his leave to give you your much-needed space. 

—

mindless chatter continues to emit from the TV, and when jeonghan peers into the living room, he spots you tucked away in your same spot on the couch, only this time your head rested lower and your mouth hung open, blissfully asleep and temporarily free from the virus that ailed you.

jeonghan is quick to shimmy on his coat. braving the bite of winter air, it was time to do some shopping for part two, giving gifts, in his mission to determine your love language.

months of taking extra shifts, saving up, determined observations, and heavy research all culminated into this one moment. he was battling not one, but two, life-or-death decisions. the first was to pick which gaming console to buy, and the second was to pick which game to correctly pair with said console. his dedication to this plan, despite being executed weeks before the planned date, does not fail him, and fifteen minutes later jeonghan is walking back into your home as if nothing even happened.

luckily, you are still asleep, which gives jeonghan enough time to wrap up (literally) this phase of the journey and get a head start on the next: acts of services.

— 

about a million things fly through jeonghan's head when he watches you ease out of your slumber, the most prominent thought being how adorable you look, but the most important thought being how sick you still must feel, and how it's engraved in jeonghan's soul to fend off your demons.

unable to contain his excitement, jeonghan approaches you with his arms tucked behind his back, very conspicuously hiding something. you don't even get the chance to sit up before jepnghan kneels beside you, looking up with the largest pair of star-filled eyes. 

jeonghan brings both hands forward, so the two presents display themselves proudly between you. "i was going to wait until christmas," he shuffles the gifts into your arms, "but i can't stand seeing you like this." jeonghan balls his fists into his lap to prevent himself from tearing away at the wrappings himself. "i hope you like it."

piece by piece, bits of red and green foil fall to the floor. no amount of congestion or itchiness in your throat could suppress the yelp that burst from your voice. "jeonghan," you begin, but the growing lump of emotion in your chest was making it damn near impossible to finish your sentence. "you really didn't have to."

jeonghan beams. "yes i did. i know how much you miss your old switch."

"you mean the one i threw out the window because i couldn't pass that one stupid level of super mario?" 

it's clear that you are very unfond of the memory, but jeonghan simply finds it all the more endearing. "that's the one."

the grin on jeonghan's face has yet to falter, and suddenly the swells of appreciation that lap at your heart transform into guilt. you imagine all the sacrifices jeonghan must have made in order to afford this, all the late shifts he had to seek out, just to buy you a replacement for something you broke in the first place. you swallow a lump of equal parts of exasperation and admiration down your throat, ready to air out further protest because you really don't deserve this, and you sure as hell don't deserve jeonghan.

and jeonghan can imagine all of your internal turmoil, of course he can, which gives him all the more reason to assure you that you do, in fact, deserve the entire world. it's also happily up to jeonghan to deliver it to you. one warm hand placed on your cold ones and a couple of soothing circles rubbed atop of them later, and jeonghan has effectively drawn you out of your own bubble.

"whatever you're worrying about," jeonghan exhales, "don't." when jeonghan senses the tension releasing from your body, he drives his point across with a home run. "plus," he nods at the game he bought to accompany the console, mario kart 8, "we can play together this time, too."

there's no reason to argue, you conclude, especially not against jeonghan. a deep breath resets your mentality, and you try your best to return to your usual self, biting back a smile. "you know I won't go easy on you, right?"

"oh please," jeonghan ruffles your already messy hair, "in your condition, you'll be begging me to go easy on you."

frowning, you take a moment to envision this unlikely scenario. unwilling to even entertain the possibility of losing to jeonghan, you dodge the challenge altogether. "how about we play another time," you mutter.

and at that, jeonghan jumps to his feet, grabbing the switch and the game in one fell swoop. "i knew you were gonna say that," he giggles, "which is why I prepared something else."

after quickly shooting a prayer to whatever gods were out there, you tentatively say, "please don't tell me you got another ridiculously expensive gift. this is more than enough." you're more than enough, you want to add, but don't.

jeonghan all but skips to the kitchen. "i wouldn't exactly call this a gift." a painfully slow thirty seconds pass until he returns to the couch in the living room, to you, carefully balancing a plate of various desserts in one hand, and cradling what appeared to be a lighter in the other.

you squint, double checking if you were actually seeing what you thought you were seeing. "what exactly would you call it, then?"

figuring that calling it an act of service would be much too blatant, jeonghan settles on "lunch."

"lunch?" you eye the plate, definitively making out two chocolate bars, a sleeve of graham crackers, and a bundle of marshmallows.

once his rendition of a charcuterie board is secure on the coffee table, jeonghan maneuvers his way onto the couch and under the blanket, shoulder to shoulder with you one and only. "you haven't eaten all day. and i know you probably don't want to eat a proper meal," jeonghan gestures at their awaiting food, "but I also know you crave sweets when you're sick."

it should be second nature by now, really, with how many times jeonghan so casually demonstrates just how well he knows you, maybe even more than you knows yourself. but jeonghan leaves you in awe every time, regardless. 

s'mores are your designated comfort food. the entire process is just so enjoyable, from prepping the ingredients and assembling the structure, to trying to eat the whole thing in one bite lest the remnants ooze out the sides. and so you both do just that.

lacking anything close to a fireplace or a firepit, you roast marshmallows skewered with chopsticks above the dim flame from the lighter. as per the laws of physics (or something like that), the first marshmallow never goes well, and you both end up with a big black burnt chunk of goo. you effectively hurl yours in the trash, but jeonghan dares to take a nibble off his own. he learns that curiosity does, in fact, kill the cat, and jeonghan scrambles to wash out that terrible ashy aftertaste on his tongue. then he hears the faint sound of you snorting, and he concludes that it was worth it.

you tackle the issue of melting the chocolate next, but it's jeonghan who requests to handle this part because he doesn't want to risk you getting burnt. 

and so you watch as jeonghan carefully heats the chocolate piece by piece over the fire. and you note all of jeonghan's habits you've picked up on over the years. how jeonghan's tongue peaks out from the corner of his mouth when he's super concentrated, how he furrows his brows when he tries to see better, how he forgets to blink when there's one specific thing on his mind. and you feel yourself likewise melting like the chocolate, because even to this day, you still can't fathom how you were so lucky to have jeonghan to call yours.

"i hope you're hungry," jeonghan announces, grinning ear to ear. 

you reciprocate the expression. it's assembly time. 

you make a mess. it was inevitable, honestly. there was only so much precaution to be taken from your comfy position on the couch, legs and feet all tangled up in each other. and you wouldn't have it any other way.

laughter outshines any noise from the long-forgotten sitcom playing on the TV. each bounce of your shoulder from an accompanying chuckle is followed by the blanket sliding down, just a bit. jeonghan tries to be slick when he drapes his arm around you, a front to make sure he can pull the blanket back up every time it threatens to slip. but this is you. you, who notice everything that jeonghan does for you. you, who's grateful for all of it. you, who don't think you can love jeonghan any more than you already do.

—

an impromptu nap is essential for their post-s'more recovery. the last two love languages, physical touch and quality time, are much harder to gauge. considering jeonghan's affection is usually on full display 24/7 and the fact that he counts his entire lifespan with you as quality time, he can only hope you treasure your moments together as much as he does. and honestly, at this point, jeonghan is much too tired to care about his quest to uncover your love language. the only mission on his mind is to get you as close as possible, and so he seeks to accomplish just that.

pulling you into his arms, you both slump onto your sides, feet dangling off the edge of the couch, hands wrapped around shoulders and backs, and eyes locked unwavering onto the other's. jeonghan slips his bicep under your neck, fashioning a faux pillow, and rests your head against his chest, just above his beating heart.

you squirm in a weak attempt to create some distance between you. (you're not successful.) "i'm gonna get you sick."

jeonghan only snuggles closer. "i don't care," emphasizing his point with a chaste kiss upon your forehead, and then, oh so gently, on your nose, both cheeks, and finally, still ever so softly, on your lips. 

you've both long since outgrown the butterflies in your stomachs. what used to elicit sparks of electricity at every touch now resound in echoes of warmth. and lying here, in jeonghan's embrace, in jeonghan's comfort, in jeonghan's life, you feel so safe. you'd spend eternity with jeonghan if you could, but right now, when the passage of time has all but stopped as you continue to hold each other in your own beautiful world, what you have right now is all you want.

—

you both wake up as you were, still entangled in each other's body, each other's affection, each other's hearts.

you let yourself drown in the serenity that was jeonghan before you ask the question that's been tickling the back of your mind the whole day. "what was up with you today? you were oddly kind, even more so than you usually are."

an instant flush of red rises upon jeonghan's cheeks, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think jeonghan was the sick one, not you. "this is gonna sound stupid," jeonghan says.

and to that, your first instinct is to reach for jeonghan's hand and intertwine your fingers, still perfectly warm under the blanket. "nothing you say is ever stupid." it's true. on a scale of endearing to adorable, never once have you thought jeonghan resembled anything close to the word stupid.

jeonghan bites his lip, as he confesses, "i hated seeing how miserable you were, and i wanted to cheer you up, but i forgot what your love language is, so i thought i'd do one of each to see which one you like the most, but you were equally receptive to all of them, and i feel dumb for not knowing what means the most to you."

when you don't immediately respond, jeonghan sighs and chides himself. "i told you, it's stupid."

but you just laugh, sporting a grin so wide your eyes turn into mini crescent moons. "yoon jeonghan, you're ridiculous in the best way possible." you unlace your finger in favor of cupping your palm around jeonghan's cheek, still blazing from embarrassment. "did you know that?"

jeonghan flits his gaze downwards, uncharacteristically shy towards the one person he's bared his entire soul to. "could you still remind me what your love language is?" he sheepishly requests, adding on, "just for future reference."

you just smile, and you hope your words are enough to convey the intensity of the way your whole body swells with an undeniable warmth every time jeonghan does anything. "as long as it's with you," you use your thumb to tilt jeonghan's head back up, ensuring he can see just how sincere you are when you say, "i love it all just the same." and then you lean in, breaths already mingling, lips centimeters from meeting, hearts seconds from colliding, when you whisper, "i love you all just the same."