#HA! NOONE EXPECTED MORE! NOT EVEN ME!

[ninjasmudge]

betrayal !

[mosspapi]

Hm. I am like... actively getting severely distressed and worked up about this assignment and I think the reason why is Significantly deeper than just "there aren't enough instructions". Like so much deeper I almost don't even wanna post about it. We live in a society bottom text

[aperrywilliams]

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

-

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

-

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

-

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

---------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[liketolaugh-writes]

Sick Day Once A Year

I might be too much in love with the Death Echoes trope. So, have a whole bunch of Bruce taking care of Danny. It's basically a sickfic with extra hurt/comfort.

It takes place in the same verse as More Like Home but probably won't happen until after the plot of that fic is done. At this point, Danny has been living with Bruce for a little under a year.

-----

At noon, Alfred called Bruce to ask him to come home early. Bruce turned around and walked out of the board meeting without even looking at anyone, but did throw a distracted 'family emergency!' over his shoulder. He might have carefully cultivated his airheaded Brucie persona, but even then people knew that he took his kids seriously.

He ignored the board member that grumbled 'enough fucking family to have an emergency every day if he wants.'

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce asked, once he was clear of the board room and in the elevator. Calm. Calm. No running. Brucie doesn't run.

"Master Danny declined to specify the nature of his sick day this morning," Alfred said, in a dry tone that didn't do a bit to hide the worry underneath it. "Apparently the anniversary of one's death is rather... physically harrowing for a ghost. He's admitted that he'd like to have you here."

But of course he hadn't asked for it, because that would require bringing up what he was. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Ten minutes at most."

"I'll let him know. Come prepared to spend several hours in his room, if not the rest of the day. He indicated that he may be well enough to eat by eight or nine o'clock, but even then..."

Meaning he expected to be debilitated until then. "Understood. Should I bring anything?"

"He's not aware of anything that will help, but some topical analgesic might be of use. I will see if I can find anything else to try."

"He's in pain?" Bruce's brow furrowed. Alfred hesitated before answering, which made Bruce's heart sink.

"He is... physically reliving his death, he says, and will be for most of the day. He is in quite a bit of pain."

"These kids will be the death of me," Bruce muttered. Danny hadn't even hinted at anything like this when he asked for the day off. Bruce made a mental note to keep him off patrol the next night as well. The elevator stopped, and he took off at as quick a walk as he dared. "I'll be there in ten."

"Yes, Master Bruce." Alfred hung up, hopefully to return to Danny.

On the way, he collected a few items that seemed promising: IcyHot cream in the strongest available formula, both heat and cold packs, a variety of compression bandages, and some muscle relaxers from the Batcave infirmary.

Bruce knocked on Danny's door. Cool air drifting out of it indicated either Danny or Alfred had turned the thermostat down lower than usual. Fortunately, Bruce had grabbed a jacket just in case.

"'M in," Danny mumbled, barely loud enough for Bruce to make out.

He pushed the door open and was unsurprised to see Alfred seated beside a miserable-looking Danny. He was surprised to see Danny in ghost form, as it wasn't a form he typically spent recreational time in, particularly when he was unwell. Perhaps it made the ordeal easier. Danny was curled up in his bed, on top of the covers, with his jumpsuit removed and a set of soft pajamas in its place. Alfred was running one hand through Danny's soft white hair, slow and comforting, while his other held one of Danny's.

"Hey, chum," Bruce called out quietly, drawing Danny's attention to him. "Heard you're hurting today." Danny hummed unhappily instead of denying it, which was concerning. "Think you'll be able to eat anything for lunch? Applesauce, bone broth, yogurt? Maybe with ectoplasm?" Danny didn't seem to have any intention of leaving ghost form.

Danny started to shake his head, but stopped to consider when Bruce brought up the last point. "Applesauce and ectoplasm," he mumbled. "Maybe. Nothing after like, two, though."

Alfred gave Bruce a warm smile and gently extracted himself from Danny. "I will see to it," he promised. "Do you need anything else, Master Danny? Master Bruce?"

Danny shook his head mutely, and Bruce said, "I'll text you an update once we've tried these." He hefted the bag he was holding. "If you could bring me lunch when you can, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course," Alfred promised. "I hope you feel better, Master Danny."

"Thanks, Alfie."

Alfred left, shutting the door gently behind him, and Bruce took his place, setting the bag at his feet for now. Danny didn't stir from his leaden sprawl, not even to lift his head.

"You didn't have to leave work, y'know," Danny mumbled, half into the pillow. "I'll be okay."

He didn't apologize, Bruce noted. That was progress. "I know I didn't have to. But someone should be here with you."

"I don't-" Danny choked, his hands squeezing into fists as his whole body shuddered and jerked as if tased. Danny panted through the spasm, his whole body rigid, and when it was over he slumped down and let out a weak moan of pain, making no attempt to continue arguing. It took Bruce a moment to remember to breathe, reminding himself forcefully that this was no attack.

"I brought you some stuff," Bruce said, softer. Danny grunted in discontent. Bruce leaned down and opened the bag anyway. "IcyHot lidocaine cream and muscle relaxers." Danny shook his head without looking. Bruce wasn't surprised. He hadn't realized Danny was in ghost form. "Both heat and cold packs." Danny hummed in mild interest but didn't open his eyes. "And compression bandages."

Danny blinked his eyes open to consider them. His usually neon eyes looked dull. "Worth a try," he muttered after a moment.

Good. Something was better than nothing. "Do you need help sitting up?"

Danny's mouth quirked in a dry smile. "Not yet."

He pushed himself up with a grunt, and shrugged off his pajama shirt with intangibility rather than lift his arms. Bruce had to suppress an immediate and visceral reaction to the glowing lines that coiled up his left arm, which he had only gotten glimpses of before; a telltale Lichtenberg permanently etched onto Danny's ghost form. In contrast to the rest of him, which had dimmed to about the light of a glowstick, the Lichtenburg mark was painfully bright.

"Where do you want these?" Bruce asked, lifting one of the rolls of elastic bandaging. Danny cocked his head and considered it. Then he gestured silently, indicating his left arm from his wrist to his shoulder, and twisted to give Bruce access. With the ease of long practice, Bruce started to wrap it. "Anything I should expect?"

Danny watched him unroll the bandages for a minute, around and around, getting halfway up Danny's forearm before he answered. "The pain comes in waves. They'll keep getting longer, more severe, and closer together until around four, and then they'll die down completely about two hours after that." He paused, watching Bruce loosen the bandages around his elbow before moving on. "It won't ever get as bad as actually dying, but it's still pretty bad. And I'll be really emotional for a lot of it, especially when it hits peak."

"When are you not." The words were out before Bruce could think twice about them. Fortunately, Danny laughed, tired but genuine.

"You've got me there. How many rolls of bandages do you have?"

"I brought three. Alfred can obtain more if necessary." Pretty bad, Danny said. Bruce had no desire to experience pain that Danny described as 'pretty bad.' His tolerance was high even for their family.

Danny shook his head. "That should be okay. Can you do my back too?"

"Yes, but I'll need to be closer." Danny scooted to make room, and Bruce shifted to sit next to him, then tapped a spot low on Danny's spine. "Starting here?" Danny nodded. "Alright. Is there anything else I should know?"

Thankfully, Danny seemed to genuinely think about it, but eventually he shook his head. "I've only had two of these," he reminded Bruce. "There's more stuff I don't know, probably."

Ah yes, a frustrating constant. The elusive nature of comprehensive information about ghosts. Even Constantine had large gaps in his knowledge, which Bruce would grudgingly admit was rare for the man. This? This was definitely not in the introductory handbook. Was Bruce now obligated to share information in return? Hn.

Danny squinted at him. "What did Constantine do now?" he asked.

"Constantine."

"You have a very distinct 'thinking about Constantine' face."

"Hn."

Danny smiled briefly, then yelped, curling up like a bug and accidentally dislodging Bruce's grip on the bandaging. Instinctively, Bruce tucked Danny against his side, and Danny shook and twitched against him, a desperate whine tearing itself free as Danny rode out the wave of pain. Bruce all but held his breath until Danny finally slumped again, breathing heavily. His chill crept through the jacket Bruce had slipped on before coming in.

"Ready to keep going?" Bruce prodded, once Danny's breath evened out. Danny laid there for another few seconds, then nodded and pushed himself upright with a wince. Bruce picked up the dropped end of the bandage, tightened what had come loose, and kept going. "You're sore?"

"Ha." Danny lifted his arms slightly, enough to make room for Bruce to work. Bruce shifted and encouraged Danny to rest his arms on Bruce's shoulders, and Danny did, leaning against him. "Yeah, I wake up pretty achy already, even though I don't start getting spasms until ten. Just to make sure I have a really miserable day."

Uncharacteristically bitter, Bruce noted, but unsurprising under the circumstances. He didn't comment. "Remarkably, we don't currently possess any upper back bandages. I'll ask Alfred to retrieve one if you're happy with the results. We do have shoulder and wrist bandages." Bruce finished wrapping Danny's torso but didn't pull away.

Danny turned his head to squint at the bandages peeking out of the bag. "Why'd you bring so many?"

"I know how you died," Bruce reminded Danny evenly. Electrocution implied muscle pain, and Bruce had suspected his left arm would take the brunt of it. Danny shuddered, a natural one this time, and pressed himself against Bruce for comfort. Bruce dropped an arm around his back, holding him. A minute or two passed, and then Danny pulled away with a sigh.

"Okay."

Right, yes. More compression bandages. These went by much faster, simply needing to be strapped on, and soon Danny's hand and shoulder had joined his left arm and mid-back in compression. He seemed satisfied with that and laid back down on the bed, somewhat more relaxed than when Bruce had first come back in. Bruce hesitated, then shifted closer again and set his hand on Danny's upper back, carefully trying to smooth out the painful knots that had developed there. Danny 'mm'ed softly but didn't otherwise react.

Alfred knocked on the door, and Bruce called him inside when Danny made no move to. Alfred pushed open the door and brought in two plates, one for Danny and one for Bruce. Bruce accepted his with a nod.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said quietly. "Danny, are you up to eating?"

Danny didn't answer at first, but then shifted around to glower half-heartedly at the bowl Alfred had brought. Then he buried his face in Bruce's arm, grumbling, and Bruce's mouth twitched in amusement. It disappeared when another tremor wracked Danny's body, and the young teen bleated in pain, his grip tightening painfully.

Bruce forced himself to breathe evenly this time, and massaged Danny's hand with his own, pressing through the thick bandage. Danny slumped, panting, and with care, Bruce shifted his hand to massage all the way up Danny's arm, coaxing the tension out of the muscles there until he reached Danny's shoulder, skipped past the compression bandage, and pressed his fingers into Danny's back. Danny didn't say anything, but he pressed into Bruce gratefully and stayed relaxed. Somehow, still, Bruce was startled when Alfred joined him, cupping Danny's temple in one hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred coaxed, more firmly than Bruce had. "Can you stomach some applesauce?" Danny whined, a softer-toned protest than the low keens of pain he'd let slip. "I know, but you will feel worse if you don't eat anything. I don't think you want that."

Danny grumbled something that sounded like 'no' and acquiesced, allowing himself to be propped up just enough to poke the glowing applesauce with a spoon. He brightened a little at the reminder that Alfred had added ectoplasm, and started to eat. Bruce followed his example and worked quickly through his sandwich.

"I see you're making good use of our extensive collection of medical garments," Alfred said to Bruce, making Bruce snort quietly. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"If he's satisfied with the improvement from these, we'll need one for his upper back as well," Bruce said. "I'll let you know."

"Perhaps after this, the collection will be complete."

Danny got through about half the applesauce before he pushed it away, and Bruce set it on a clear spot on his nightstand before Alfred could pick it up. He glanced up at the butler. "I'll see if I can coax more of this into him later."

Alfred gave him a small smile. "Very well. I'll check in later to see how the two of you are doing."

Bruce nodded, and Alfred left to attend to the manor. Bruce turned his attention back to Danny and considered him. He had a few more questions - why Danny was staying in ghost form, if there were any physical effects from this - but nothing that couldn't wait until Danny was less ill. He picked up his tablet instead. "Would you like me to read to you?"

Danny tilted his head up to look at him, then nodded. It was barely twelve thirty and he already looked exhausted, pale even for his ghost form and cradling his left arm protectively. Bruce hoped he'd be able to sleep at some point, but that seemed unlikely until the pain had passed, which apparently would not be for hours.

Bruce picked up his tablet and quickly downloaded a book. Danny had mentioned wanting to read 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy' a few times, but hadn't gotten around to it yet. "The story so far: in the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

Danny snickered softly.

As always, reading to his kids made time pass a little faster. It also gave him easy access to the digital clock, and with the note function innate to the Kindle app, he could keep track of the time and Danny's progressing condition, most importantly the interval between spasms and the relative severity of the pain.

After half an hour, he noted that the current interval period was about twelve minutes and asked Danny, "Are the compression bandages helping as much as desired?"

Danny nodded. He'd pulled a thin blanket over himself after a while, mainly for comfort, and his hold on his left arm was still loose enough that Bruce believed it was more psychological than physical for the moment. "Hurts less when I can't jerk around so much. One for my upper back would be good. The shoulder one isn't quite cutting it." He made a face.

Bruce shot off a text to let Alfred know. "Anything else you want?"

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Heat pack?" he asked, softer and more tentative, as if there was anything Bruce would say no to right now.

And that was simple enough. Bruce activated one of the handheld heating packs and handed it to Danny, who shuffled around a little before putting it on his neck, by the junction of his shoulder. Bruce picked his tablet back up and continued reading.

Alfred returned about twenty minutes later with the requested bandage, and Danny didn't protest when Bruce went to help him sit up. He wasn't weakened, Bruce judged after a minute, but there was a minute tremble in his muscles that indicated the pain was ramping up even outside of the periodic spasms.

Bruce helped him get the new compression bandage on, and then paused to smooth out some of the building tension there. Danny leaned in gratefully - he was much more physically affectionate than most of Bruce's children, he'd come to realize, except perhaps Cass and Dick. Bruce kept an eye on the clock, and made sure to get Danny down before the next spasm hit. Danny groaned, the sound drawn-out and wavering unhappily, and clung to Bruce through it before falling into a shivering, panting slump.

Alfred ran his fingers through Danny's hair, nodded to Bruce, and left quietly, as harried as ever when one of the kids was suffering.

"You happy like this, chum, or do you want to lay back how you were?" Bruce asked Danny quietly. Danny grunted, then squirmed further into Bruce's lap. It was a little eerie, Danny being so light and cold in this form that Bruce could have mistaken him for a lap full of snow, but it made Bruce smile for a moment. "Alright."

He settled down and picked up his tablet to resume reading, noting the time and event before he continued.

A part of Bruce, a not-so-small part, was furious that Danny had meant to handle this alone, without anything to even try to ease the pain; it reminded him of when nine-year-old Tim had caught a bad strain of flu, and how confused he had been when Alfred insisted on him staying at Wayne Manor to be cared for. This might not have been particularly dangerous, it was true, but Danny was miserable now and only promised to get more so through the day.

He wondered briefly how Danny had spent the previous two such events. Certainly not with his parents, there being no human explanation for this. Could he even be home for it, in the comfort of his own room, or did he have to go elsewhere? Had he been alone for either of them? It unfortunately seemed likely, especially if he hadn't known about it in advance the first time.

Even with the bandages stabilizing half his upper body, Danny's groans and whines slowly progressed into low keens of pain, and he started to clutch at himself through each one, gasping for breath like it was the only thing that would bring him comfort. Bruce shifted so one of his hands rested on Danny's shoulder, where a gap between the shoulder and upper back bandages seemed to be creating a sharp spot of pain that Danny kept trying to get at. He massaged it carefully without looking away from the tablet, and Danny relaxed a little, panting.

At two thirty, Danny started to cry, exhausted tears shining on his cheeks and faint, breathy sobs following each spasm. At three, Bruce noted that the interval had decreased to six minutes, then set the tablet aside and transferred his attention to comforting Danny.

"How are you feeling, chum?" he asked quietly.

"Hurts, God, it hurts," Danny choked out, trembling like a leaf and his better hand clamping down on his shoulder again. "'S so cold, Bruce. It's in my bones. Shouldn' be in me."

Cold. Ectoplasm? Bruce wasn't sure. Danny had never described his accident at length. "Heat pack?"

Danny nodded jerkily, so Bruce leaned forward, careful not to jostle him, and grabbed a few. He lifted the blanket enough to place one on Danny's upper back and one on his lower, then noted the time and the request. If this was indeed a yearly event, a thought that made his blood boil, they'd need to be better prepared for it next year.

A stray thought crossed Bruce's mind. Did this happen to Jason as well? Jason had never referenced anything of the sort, but he also knew that Jason never went out on the anniversary of his death. Bruce would know; he'd specifically looked out for him the first few years, before the habit became apparent, and still kept half an eye out since.

Danny cried out, no longer making any effort to muffle the noise, and seized and jerked through another long episode. Bruce counted silently. Up to thirty-three seconds. When it was over, he sobbed and curled closer to Bruce.

"Why'd they have to build that stupid portal?" Danny choked out. Bruce ruthlessly clamped down on another wave of rage at the eldest Fentons. "God. A-ah. This sucks. I wanna go to bed. I want it to be over." His voice cracked.

Sleeping pills, or a sedative? They wouldn't work on Danny's ghost form either, but depending on why he wasn't reverting to human, they could try to get him to sleep through as much of the day as possible. Something to discuss later on. "It's 3:16." Danny whined in protest. "I've got you. What hurts the most?" He checked on the heat pack by Danny's neck, making sure it was still in place.

"My chest hurts," Danny sobbed quietly, his face wet with tears. "My heart is stopping."

Unfortunately, Bruce couldn't help with that. He set his hand on Danny's chest anyway, and Danny reached up and clutched at it, apparently finding comfort in the futile gesture all the same. Even his hand trembled.

"'M scared, B," Danny confessed after another minute, almost too quiet to hear. Bruce's chest tightened, and he breathed through another wave of frustration and hatred before he could soften his voice enough to reply.

"You're going to be fine, Danny. You'll be in pain for a few more hours, but that's all it is."

"'M already dead," Danny murmured. From inflection, Bruce deduced that it was meant to be self-soothing.

Bruce's throat ached. "...Yes."

At four o'clock, the interval dropped to two minutes, counting from the end of one spasm to the start of the next. It barely gave Danny time to breathe, and he tossed and turned until Bruce moved both of them so Danny could sit up and hold onto him, crying into his shoulder. Danny held on with bruising force - and no more, as careful as Clark even now - and jerked, hands tightening and loosening in Bruce's jacket with the ebb and flow of relived pain.

You did this to him, Bruce thought at the elder Fentons, more than once.

At exactly 4:36 - Bruce was keeping as close an eye on the clock as he could manage - Danny screamed. Bruce immediately recognized the sound from an echo audible in his Ghostly Wail. Bruce's jacket tore under Danny's hands, and a horrible, quaking tremor seized Danny in an unmistakably fatal grip. Bruce counted the seconds and held Danny too tightly for him to accidentally shake himself loose.

Forty-six seconds. That was how long the worst spasm held him. Bruce assumed that was also how long it had taken Danny to die.

In contrast to the other times, when it finally released him, Danny pressed in closer instead of loosening his grip, and sobbed hysterically.

"No, no," Danny choked out, and "Please, I don't wanna-" and "Dad, Dad."

What did you say after something like that?

"I've got you," Bruce settled on. "You're safe. You're with me."

Danny calmed down slowly, sobs dying down into heaving breaths and then into a deep but labored rhythm that closely matched Bruce's but seemed to take much more effort. The next spasm that hit was much lighter, lasting only eighteen seconds, but it still sent Danny into renewed shudders and tears, holding on tightly.

When Danny seemed calm enough, Bruce shifted him enough so that Bruce could hold him in one arm, then pulled his tablet back over and logged the time of death, length of the accompanying fit, and what had followed. Interval immediately increased back to more than ten minutes (Bruce had unfortunately missed the precise time) and period decreased to eighteen seconds.

Danny set his head on Bruce's shoulder.

After that, things got much easier. At 5:15, Danny removed himself from Bruce's lap to lay down. He removed all of the heat packs and passed them to Bruce, but kept the compression bandages on. He didn't reach for the blanket but hummed gratefully when Bruce pulled it over him anyway, and Bruce sat on the floor beside him and debated returning to reading aloud.

"Whoa. You two look wiped."

Bruce looked up. Duke had opened the door to talk to them, probably too worried by what he'd seen through the door to remember to knock first, and his expression was pinched with worry. "Duke. Anything on patrol?"

"Uh, some movement I'll tattle to Jason about, but nothing big." He studied them with concern. "How's Danny doing? I didn't realize he was this sick."

Hm. Had Alfred declined to explain what had happened? Bruce glanced at Danny as the teenager hummed unhappily, but Danny didn't say anything else, so Bruce provided, "He's had a long day. I expect he'll go to sleep soon. We'll debrief tomorrow."

"Debrief?" Duke frowned at him, understanding immediately that there was more than what he'd been told, but then he glanced at Danny and just nodded. "Alright. Feel better soon, Danny. Get some rest, okay? I'll let Alfred know how you're doing."

Danny's hum this time was more positive.

At 5:30, Danny fell asleep. At 5:45, Dick came in to check on them and left once he'd come to look at Danny's sleeping (calm) face, and at 6:15, Cass came in with a plate of food for Bruce and a few granola bars for Danny. For when he wakes up, she signed.

A little while after 6:30, Bruce fell asleep without meaning to.

[rcmclachlan]

fanclub dues (bucktommy, tommy & maddie friendship)

Buck's just pulling into the parking lot when the realization that he left his recertification paperwork on Tommy's kitchen counter hits him like another lightning strike, and he drops his head to the steering wheel with a whine. His cert expires today and absolutely has to be postmarked by noon or else Bobby's going to decapitate him, or worse: be really disappointed in him.

His first instinct is to call Tommy, because Tommy's starting a lovely stretch of 72 hours off, and if Buck called him he would absolutely drive the packet over.

Except Tommy's spent the last week reminding Buck to mail the stupid thing before the postmark deadline. If he calls and asks, Tommy won't say I told you so, but he will pause for a second like he's thinking about it before he tells Buck it's no problem. Which is in the exact same pantheon as Bobby's disappointment.

So, he does the next best thing.

"Actually, that works out, because I'm going to be in that area anyway," Maddie says. He can hear the rush of wind and traffic over the line. She must already be driving. "You know how we got on the waitlist for that kindergarten I was telling you about? Looks like a spot is going to open up next year and they asked me to come in for a tour."

Buck frowns. "You're already talking about kindergarten?"

"Jee's four, Buck," Maddie says long-sufferingly. "Kindergarten starts next year."

"That's insane, and also illegal. Tell that girl to stop growing or else she's getting arrested. I know a cop who would absolutely do it, no questions asked."

Maddie laughs, which makes him grin at his reflection in the rearview like an idiot. It always feels like he's won something when he manages to make her at least crack a smile, even when they were kids.

He thanks her profusely, texts her Tommy's address, and then rides that wave of joy right into the station, which continues to carry him through the first couple of hours of his shift.

Around 10:00, his phone chimes with a message. Just pulled up! Front of the house looks great! :-) :-) :-)

Buck smiles down at his phone. He helped plant the flower beds last weekend, and even though he's still finding bits of mulch in weird places because Tommy had pressed him back into the dirt and kissed him filthy in broad daylight in full view of his street, until their smiles got in the way, he can't argue with the end result. They do look good.

This little handoff probably will only take five minutes. Tommy still feels a little awkward around Maddie for reasons Buck cannot fathom for the life of him. Maddie is the kindest, coolest person on the planet, and she's so happy that Buck is happy and Buck is happy because of Tommy, so there shouldn't be any sort of weird vibe. But this is the first time Tommy's ever been in a relationship that made it to the stage where he gets to meet the family and he's so terrified of leaving a bad impression that it's translated into him acting like a robot whenever she's around.

It's maybe a little mean of him to send Maddie to Tommy's literal doorstep. He can just picture the deer-in-headlights look on Tommy's face when he opens the door, but Buck figures exposure therapy can only help. The more Tommy sees Maddie, the more he'll hopefully relax. Small moves.

Maddie will probably send a text in another few minutes about her ETA, but then the bells go off and Buck doesn't give it another thought until a few hours later when they're climbing into the truck to head back to the station.

Unearthing his phone, Buck is expecting a Looks like you're out on a call. I left your stuff on Bobby's desk. See you later!

He's not expecting a video.

Blinking, he checks the timestamp of the message—not twenty minutes ago—and feels the first nibbles of worry in his gut.

What if something happened at the station? What if Gerrard made an unexpected appearance, hoping to, like, challenge Bobby to fisticuffs to get his job back but found Maddie there instead? What if he says something to her, or tries to burn the building down while she's still inside? Maybe she took a video as proof before the ceiling caved in—

He nearly drops the phone trying to press play, and Chim slides in next to him just in time to see Maddie fill his screen.

But instead of evidence of their bitter ex-captain committing arson, it's a selfie video of her in a pair of sunglasses and a cap dancing and singing along to a song Buck doesn't recognize. He does recognize the kitchen behind her, though, because he'd eaten breakfast in it just this morning. There are two bottles of wine on the counter, one empty.

And after a moment, Buck realizes the sunglasses are Tommy's aviators and the pilot cap is the same one Buck accidentally stumbled upon in one of the upstairs closets and made Tommy wear a few nights ago.

But before he can process any of that, Tommy cha-chas his way into the background holding a plate of what looks like sandwiches. He's singing along too. Maddie turns around to look and starts laughing hysterically, the entire screen shaking like they're in the middle of a 9.1 earthquake, when Tommy starts hip thrusting.

Buck's jaw drops. "He said those dorky-ass dance moves were for my eyes only!"

"Wow, I never realized there was a patron saint of FOMO, but here I am sitting next to him. What an honor," Chim says with a laugh, but something in the video must click because his grin is suddenly swallowed by sheer outrage. "Wait, are they having a George Michael dance party without me? Maddie knows how much I love George!"

"What's your definition of dirty, baby, what do you consider pornography!" Maddie and Tommy shout gleefully at the camera.

Chim gasps. "Oh, divorce!"

"What was that about FOMO, Chim?" Hen asks sweetly, but she's grinning so wide at the video—even from her upside down vantage point—that the dig doesn't stick the landing.

Buck looks over at Eddie, who is watching the video serenely, like he's not shocked to see his cool friend full-on shimmying his chest while shoving a grilled cheese into his face.

"Are you not surprised by this at all?" Buck demands.

Eddie shrugs. "If you ever came to karaoke like we keep asking you to, you wouldn't be either. I don't know what you want me to say, Buck. Your man's a dweeb."

He's so annoyed that this is something Eddie's seen so many times before that it doesn't even warrant a reaction that Buck almost forgets to be upset about Maddie and the aforementioned dweeb day drinking and bonding without him. He's oh so glad to see Tommy got over his fear of impressing Maddie enough that he thinks he's allowed to do the fucking running man while in the same room with her.

"C-c-c-c-c-come on!" Tommy howls. Off screen, Maddie cackles and whoops like she's at a rodeo show.

Buck turns to Chimney and says grimly, "After this? You totally get me in the divorce."

Chim makes a face. "Can I contest that?"

"No," Buck says, swiping out of the video before he throws his phone into the street. Almost immediately it chimes with a new text. In a new group chat.

Faxed ur stuff bc ur bf still has a FAX MACHINE and CONNECTIONS at the dir!

Yes and arent uoy glad???1? EVan youre all set baby

BABY lmao gross Going to Jees school now tell u how it goes

When Bobby hauls himself into the front seat, he looks back at them and pauses. Buck doesn't know what his face is doing, but by the dubious expression on Bobby's face, it's nothing good.

"Everything... okay?"

Buck shrugs. "Other than my niece being destined for a career of slinging burgers at In n' Out because my drunk sister and boyfriend are about to get her blackballed from the Los Angeles public school system? We're copasetic, Cap."

'Copasetic,' Eddie mouths, then starts snickering. Buck kicks his foot.

"Hey." Chim smacks him in the chest. "Don't diss fast food workers, they're the backbone of our society. You're just mad you're not cheating Jee out of an education with said sister and boyfriend."

"Aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'm well-actualized enough to simply rise above the betrayal," Chimney says easily.

Hen rolls her eyes. "He's not. Between the two of you, we're going to be hearing about this for the next four years."

"Sorry, Maddie and Tommy are doing what?" Bobby asks slowly.

The corners of Chim's mouth twitch downward. "Dancing to I Want Your Sex. Without me, might I add."

Buck's head turns so fast he hears something pop in his neck. "It's called what?"

"Oh god," Hen mutters. Eddie looks like he's ready to start dozing off.

Buck's gearing up for a really good rant when his phone goes off again, and when he opens the message, it's a selfie of Maddie and Tommy pressed together in someone's backseat—hopefully an Uber's—and grinning so hard it almost looks a little painful.

Jealousy starts to rear its head like a snake, but before it has a chance to strike he clocks the name of the group chat.

The Official Evan Buckley Fan Club.

Be safe out htere! We love you!

"I'm just saying," Chim gripes to a visibly unsympathetic Hen, "Maddie wasn't even a George Michael fan until I made her listen to Hard Day!"

Buck turns to Eddie and kicks his foot again. "Want to join The Evan Buckley Fan Club?"

"Dude, I've been treasurer for like seven years," Eddie says without opening his eyes. "And I cast the deciding vote when Tommy ran for president at the end of last year."

Once upon a time a there lived boy in Hershey, Pennsylvania who never dared to conceive the idea that multiple people might someday love him enough to start a fan club over it.

"You over it yet?" Eddie asks.

Something warm and sweet wells inside him and he ducks his head around a pleased laugh. "Yeah, for now."

He does make a mental note to have a serious talk with Tommy about the proprietary nature of those hip thrusts, though.

[thewailingbells]

Hello~~

I discovered your profile not long ago (literally yesterday) and I loved your writing. You made me more in love with Thomas Hewitt than I already am!!!

Could we have a fic where Thomas and S/O are already lovers but for some reason S/O has to leave or travel to another city for a few months and this leaves Thomas completely devastated and stressed. Even Luda Mae and Hoyt notice the change in his behavior while s/o is away and when s/o finally returns home,she has to find some way to de-stress Thomas who is dying of missing her. 😞 (No need to write NSFW if you feel uncomfortable!!!!)

(English isn't my first language so I literally translated this whole thing on google... lmao.)

Always Forever

AN: AFAB Reader. This is my first time writing smut! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Sex, nudity, fingering, rough sex, piv, creampie, general nsfw things.

“Thomas, you know I have to go.”

Your boyfriend was standing behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, and his head buried into your shoulder. Your words only made him squeeze you tighter.

“Tommy, I need to go see my family. They miss me, and I promised I would visit them for the week! I wanted you to come with me; you know that, but Hoyt said no.

He sighed, knowing you were right. His uncle needed him to stay home and take care of the house. God knows what would happen if Tommy wasn’t around.

Since you started dating him, there hasn’t been a day when you two were apart. Thomas didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. He spent the rest of your time together, following you around as you packed your bags. Noon came quicker than you expected, signaling it was time for you to go.

You said your goodbyes to Luda, Hoyt, and Charlie as you walked out the door. Tommy was already outside, having carried your bags to the car. Once all of your luggage was neatly packed up, you smiled at him. You pulled him into a tight hug before kissing him. “I love you. I promise I’ll be back.”

You got inside your car and smiled at him. With that, you drove off. Tommy waited until your car was nowhere in sight to go back into the house.

“Tommy,” Hoyt said, “How’s it feel now that your bitch is gone?”

Thomas ignored his words and stomped down into the basement. He could hear the sound of bickering between Hoyt and Luda Mae, most likely due to Hoyt’s crass language.

Tommy wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had been in the basement. He just kept chopping and chopping and chopping the animal meat laid in front of him. He had been cutting meat for years now, to the point where he didn’t even have to think about it.

“Tommy! Tommy! Get up here now,” Luda Mae shouted. His mother’s voice awoke him from his thoughts. He walked up the stairs. Luda Mae looked at her boy with sad eyes. “Tommy. You’ve been in the basement for six hours. It’s time to stop now, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you some food and water.”

The next few days, Thomas would go to work at the crack of dawn and come home hours after the sun had set. When he came home, he would wait by the door for a few moments. He thought that maybe you would have come back early, but you didn’t.

The week had gone by. You had promised him you would be back home on Monday by one o’clock in the afternoon. Thomas believed you. Why wouldn’t he? However, it became harder and harder to believe you as the hours on the clock ticked by. Tommy sat by the front door. Watching. Waiting.

Hoyt sighed and came up behind Tommy. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “Boy, I don’t know how to tell ya this, but I don’t think she’s coming back.”

Thomas’s eyes grew wide. He shook his head. You were coming back. He knew it.

“Thomas, it’s six o’clock. She said she'd be home by one. I don’t see her anywhere. Do you?”

Tommy placed his head in his hands. He wished Hoyt wouldn’t say things like that. Things that were not true. But then again, Tommy had never been the brightest. Maybe you never loved him. Maybe this was the perfect opportunity for you to escape from him. When Thomas was about to spiral into distress, he heard a car door slamming.

Thomas jumped out of his chair and rushed to the door. He opened it with such force that it nearly flew off the hinges. That’s when he saw it—your car in the driveway. He ran towards it.

You quickly stepped out of your car, beautiful as ever. You smiled when you saw him. “Tommy! I’m so sorry I’m late. I was-” Your sentence was cut off when Thomas picked you up off the ground and pulled you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. You tried to wiggle out, worrying his grip was too tight, but you gave into the hug and snuggled against him. You knew he needed this.

Eventually, he put you down on the ground. “Tommy, I told you I would be back. I’d never leave you. I love you so much. I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

He didn’t say anything. He leaned down and kissed you. It was rough and passionate. Before it escalated, he threw you over his shoulder and brought you inside.

Hoyt smiled at the sight of you. “Well, would you look at that? She came back! Luda was right,” he muttered to himself.

Thomas brought you upstairs to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed and quickly pinned you down. Your faces were inches away from each other. The room was silent except for the sounds of both of you panting.

Tommy gently cupped your breast. He looked at you with pleading eyes.

You nodded. “Go ahead. Do whatever you want to me, Tommy.”

He immediately got to work, his movements faster than usual. Normally, he would take his time with you. Not today, though.

He roughly grabbed the waist of your pants and yanked them down. You let out a squeak in surprise. He grabbed both of your wrists in one of his large hands, keeping them suspended above your head. He balled your t-shirt up in one of his fists before forcefully tugging it up. He released his grip, allowing you to slide it off.

Tommy let out a desperate whine at the sight of your body. You were dressed in white lace lingerie. It was nothing much; it was very simplistic, looking like it could pass for a normal pair of undergarments. Despite that, Tommy nearly came in his pants at the sight of you.

He leaned down and nestled his face in the crook of your neck. He aligned his clothed cock with your clothed pussy. He began to desperately hump you. Tommy felt shameful; you could tell by the way he hid his face. Never in his life had he been this desperate for anything. He wanted, no, he needed to be close to you in any way. He had to show you how much he loved you.

A breathy moan fell from your lips. “Tommy, Tommy, calm down. I can take care of you.” You began to sit up. He pushed the middle of your chest, causing you to fall back onto the bed. You sighed, knowing he wanted to do everything himself today.

He pulled your panties to the side, exposing your pussy. He ran his thick fingers up against your lips to feel your wetness. He roughly put one of his fingers inside of you, causing you to throw your head back and moan in pleasure. He would usually give you time to adjust to it, but not today. Today, he immediately shoved his second finger inside your hole as well. Your back arched as he roughly finger-fucked you harder than ever before. Tommy then put his thumb on your clit, gently circling it.

Once he felt your walls begin to stretch for him, he removed his fingers. You whined in annoyance. Thomas unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out. It was rock hard and dripping with precum. He aligned himself with your hole and then fully bottomed out in one swift movement.

You mewled in pleasure. “Tommy! Fuck, Tommy~”

He immediately began to roughly pound into you. The feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock drove him crazy. Your moans got louder and louder, not caring who heard them.

He reached down to toy with your clit, bringing you so close to the edge. You grabbed the blankets on the bed.

Tommy was so close. He needed to come so badly. You looked at him with lustful eyes. “I love you~ cum for me. Cum for me, Tommy.”

With one particular rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came. He let out a deep moan as his seed began to fill you up. Thomas nearly collapsed on top of you. He grabbed your waist and flipped you onto him, his cock still deep inside you. Your entire body was pressed tightly against him. He wrapped his hands around your smaller frame to keep you in place.

Once you had calmed down, you sighed contently. You reached up and pushed some of his hair out of his face. “I told you I would come back, didn’t I?”

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Link Click, internet slang, and Chinese culture

On the Chinese internet, there's a nickname for Link Click called Shiguang Daidaoren, meaning "the blade-bringers of time" instead of "the managers of time," the original title. Calling something "blade" is Chinese internet slang for something being angsty; whether it be derivative content or the originals themselves. Another meme is that Link Click isn't zhiyu (治愈，healing), which it is tagged as on Bilibili, but zhiyu (致郁，causing depression).

Link Click, especially its first season, is a deeply emotional and sentimental show. And it's a shame that so much of it gets not so much lost in literal, linguistic translation as much as it does in cultural, contextual translation. Many people can understand Emma's pain of being away from her parents in a new city, working a difficult job. But watching the scrolling comments on Bilibili, you get the cultural context of it -- the massive migration patterns within China from rural to urban, the children growing up and having to shed their local fangyan (方言) or, less formally, tuhua (土话)("speech of the locations" and "old-fashioned words," respectively) in exchange for Beijing Mandarin. This massive nation, nearly twice the population of Europe and only about 6% smaller in terms of area, is so diverse as to have created (what is close to) an immigrant experience for its citizens entirely within its borders. You visit your parents on Chunjie (春节）, lunar/Chinese new year, on packed trains during the largest singular human migration event on Earth, annually. And when you get home, you are faced with something different from the cities you now live in -- everything from the buildings to the furniture to the clothes they wear. I hadn't realized how deeply I missed the gaudy, garish mianao (棉袄，coats) and mianbei (棉被，cotton blankets) until I saw familiar shades of too-bright burgundy in the hands of Emma's parents. The concept of this original-home, laojia (老家, old-home) is so strongly baked into our lives that every time I meet another Chinese person, I cannot but help but ask them 你老家哪儿啊? Where is your original-home? And even though I know nothing about Chinese geography, every time I hear the answer, a little piece slots into place nonetheless.

In slang, if something made you cry or otherwise feel an emotion you weren't expecting to feel, you refer to it as pofang (破防，breaking defences). And maybe it says something that an expression of human emotion is viewed as a failure in some defences, but that's introspection for another time. Watching on Bilibili, with its hundreds of comments scrolling by "My defences have been breached" and sobbing onomatopoeia, people in the comments saying that they miss their mothers and fathers -- I, too, miss my family. When Cheng Xiaoshi, in Chen Xiao's body, tried to speak his host body's local variation and came up with butchered dongbeihua (东北话, words of the east-north), I nearly fell out of my chair. It was the sound of home, of my grandmother telling us to hush around noon because our neighbours were napping and my grandfather showing me how to play spider solitaire.

Cheng Xiaoshi's breakdown in episode 5 hits hard for its vulnerability. "I'm scared of the dark" has the same literal meaning as "我怕黑," sure, but there is something devastatingly childlike in that three-syllable declaration of fear. Where English so often derives meaning from complexity, from winding metaphors and beautiful prose, Chinese can derive breathtaking meaning from less breath than it takes to say the word analogy. 我怕黑 is stripped of any grown-up pretenses of control or dignity. It is the barest this statement can be: I. Scared. Darkness.

And what he says following, too. 我害怕一个人. Longer yet no less potent. Alone, or lonely, has many translations in Chinese. 孤独. 寂寞. 孤单. 单独. Many more synonyms for all the different ways you can be lonely. But 一个人 is, once again, an almost child-like way of saying it. Before you have the vocabulary to express these complex emotions, 一个人 is a perfectly working expression. Translating it character-by-character, it means one singular person. It is something you say when you've been left behind. When you've been made to face everything by yourself. When the world is so, so, big, and you are just one singular person, with no companions to stand with you.

And, ah, Li Tianxi's Chinese nickname, 小希. It is the last character of her full name, with a "little" shoved right in front. It is an affectionate way to call someone younger than you. It is different from Xixi, its English rendition, because a repetition of the last character is a more generalized, affectionate nickname, whereas diminutives are almost always reserved for someone younger than you, when used in real life. The diminutive says don't be scared. I'm here now. I'll handle it.

There are endless details in Link Click that make everything about it seem a little bit more like home. The word 面馆 which means something a little, subtly different than "restaurant" or "noodles shop," a difference lost without the context of the phrase 下馆子 and the way adults say it with the gladness of once-children who only ate meat on new years. The "honorifics" as English calls them, to me more of just -- ingrained parts of someone's name. Within the snap of Mandarin syllables there is meaning and memory in every character. Jie, mei, di, ge, lao, da, xiao -- they are more than their literal meanings. They are a relationship, a promise.

Perhaps I am overthinking this, awkwardly Chinese as I am: too localized to be considered first-generation, too stubbornly attached to relate to second-generation. Maybe these linguistic subtleties only exist and matter in my mind, a writer of both languages (though I must say, my Chinese prose leaves… much to be desired) with a knack for pedantics. Regardless, I hope other Chinese fans of this show share this feeling. And surely, other people will, too. All the rural children who left home to pursue higher education and opportunities in faraway cities; the raised-in-poverty who spent their childhoods dreaming of buying their family new coats; the speakers of languages long since abandoned by their childhood friends. What a delight it is to see yourself in stories, neither exception nor abnormality but a norm. What a joy it is to be one of one point four billion.

[monzabee]

what you do to me – lh44 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where Lewis returns home to you – the one thing he desperately wants, but won't let himself have completely.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x fwb!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst, feelings, friends with benefits relationship, smut!, slight choking, unprotected sex (wrap your willy, don’t be silly!), slight manhandling?, pwp, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! my boyfriend forced me to watch hellraiser the other day, and there was this one scene that i could just not thinking about so i wanted to write something inspired by it, and who better to write it about than sir lewis hamilton?? also, i reaaaallly wanted to write a friends with benefits thing and it was so much fun, i honestly wasn’t expecting. the title of this fic is actually a john legend song that i love and i think it fits the vibes for this fic, so please feel free to give it a listen if you're interested! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

It’s a shame Lewis doesn’t spend more time in his Monte Carlo penthouse during the season because it’s a space he enjoys spending time in so much. He doesn’t mind being alone in his home – if anything, it’s refreshing after spending so much time being the focal point of so many cameras during the season. Also, technically, he is not alone he supposes; he has Roscoe to keep him company when he’s home, after all.

Coming home from a successful season is rewarding, he feels as if he’s deserved the rest he looks forward to. On the other hand, coming home from a not-so-successful season? Well he feels like shit – both mentally and physically. That is not to say that he doesn’t appreciate the time off, though, he is more than happy to not drive for weeks and just enjoy the winter break. Coming home is also always kind of bittersweet. He catches up with some of his friends he didn’t have time for during the season, his family who always support him through thick and thin, but most importantly he tries to make time for you and your… well, arrangement.

He knows something is wrong the minute you reply to his text about him being home. A simple okay is not a response he is used to getting from you. Alas, he shakes off the unease and chalks it up to a hectic day on your end. The pitter patter of Roscoe’s paws on the hardwood floors is enough to distract him from the situation, given the fact that the puppy is impatient for his dinner and is looking at the driver with pleading eyes.

“Okay ‘Coe,” he mumbles as he motions the kitchen with his head, “let’s go.”

The way Roscoe wobbles towards the kitchen brings a small smile to Lewis’ face even though he is still hung up on your answer. After he’s done feeding the puppy, he decides to grab a quick shower to ease the tiredness that comes from a long travel day. The hot water cascading down from the rainfall shower does a good job of taking care of his sore muscles, and he is more than happy to stay under the warm water if it means the soreness will go away. That is until he hears banging coming from his front door. He has every intention of just ignoring the person on the other side of the door; however, as the knocks get more and more persistent, he gets out of the shower with a groan. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he marches towards the front door, and looks through the peephole only to end up opening the door quicker than he would’ve liked.

His voice is confused as he mumbles out, “Lovey?” But you just straighten up from your position of leaning against the wall and throw your bag on the floor as you push your way through his apartment and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches as you attempt to hide yourself in the crook of his neck, and he is not sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands for a moment. “Hey,” he calls out softly, “what’s wrong?”

You pull back slightly to look into his worried eyes, “Just kiss me.” Your voice comes out somewhere between a whisper and a sob, and you can see the hesitation in Lewis’ eyes, but you just pull him towards you as you press a soft kiss on his lips, “Please.”

“What happened?” He tries once again to get an answer from you, but you shut down his attempt as you press your lips against his once more, more assertive this time. And who is he to deny you your wishes? So, like the perfect gentleman he is, he reciprocates your kiss with a one of his own as he wraps his arms around you to signal you to jump. Thankfully, you are so tuned with each other that you end up jumping up anyway, and he picks you up as you wrap your legs around his hips. Closing the door, he starts walking back towards his bedroom as your lips start moving more frantically against his own. “Slow down,” he warns, pulling back to give both of you a chance to breathe, “we have all night.”

Whining at the loss of contact from his lips, and you let your dissatisfaction known by attempting to roll your hips against his bare stomach, “Don’t wanna.” There’s still a lingering sob in your voice, but it is more reflective of the neediness you feel now that you have him between your arms – and legs. Lewis lets his hands roam down towards your ass to give you a warning squeeze – a one, maybe you would’ve been threatened by it if you weren’t so lost in him at the moment. You try your best to ignore the look he gives you, one filled with sternness; so instead, you move your lips downwards towards Lewis’ neck with another roll of your hips. “I missed you.”

He stills the movement of your hips as he simultaneously releases an appreciative groan at the way your lips feel on his skin. “I missed you too, lovey.” He is careful as he approaches his bed and sits down on the plush mattress with you still in his arms. Wrapping a hand around your hair to tilt your head back so he can look into your eyes again, he attempts to keep himself from becoming hard from the mere prospect of you wrapping your body around his. His eyes search yours for answers as to your sour mood, “Tell me what’s wrong, bad day?”

“Try bad month,” you scoff, letting your hands slide over his, somehow, still damp torso. “You weren’t here,” you explain as you free yourself from his hold on your hair and take off your sweatshirt, “don’t wan’ to talk about it.”

“Well, I’m here now.” A sudden realisation that you are not wearing anything under your top comes to Lewis, and he has to mentally restrain himself from doing something rash. “Not wearing a bra?” He asks, one of his eyebrows raised.

You let out a confirming hum, “Not wearing any underwear either.” Giving him an innocent smile at the groan he gets out, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly, “Thought they’d get in the way.” His hands feel warm on your bare skin as he drags them up on your body to gently cup your exposed breasts, causing you to brace yourself by hanging onto his shoulder for support. Whining as you feel his thumb make contact with your sensitive nipple, you decide to pull him in for another kiss, mumbling a breathy, “Kiss me,” against his lips. 

He obliges your request, of course, but he doesn’t let you control the kiss like you would’ve liked to. Instead, he stops the kiss by gently biting down on your lip before you can deepen it. With a small pat to your hip, he mumbles, “Get up, let me see you.” The look he gives you is just so full of adoration that you have no other choice to get up from his lap with the slowest moves you can muster. His eyes never leave you when you take a step back so that he can see you, all of you, and with the small nod he gives you, you begin taking off your leggings and shoes. That’s the thing about Lewis – for someone who is in the spotlight most of their time, he loves watching. And it is not only limited to the bedroom, you realise, he watches you even when you are doing mundane things together, like grocery shopping or walking Roscoe, domestic things that couples do together. But you can’t think about that, no, because both of you agreed that this was only physical and nothing more. Shaking the thoughts away, you straighten up from your bent position only to find Lewis looking you with a much darker look in his eyes. He’s dangerous, when he looks like that, you realise, he could break you into pieces with just his words, and the worst part is that you’d absolutely let him. “Pretty girl,” he whispers into the distance between you, and you take the hand he extends towards you for him to pull you against himself. The feeling of his lips on your skin almost feel feverish, and you find yourself releasing a gasp. “You’re the prettiest girl ever, lovey.”

“Lewis,” you brokenly whisper, your voice would be bordering on whiny with all the neediness that comes with it, “please, I need you.” The pleading look you give him is vulnerable, if not desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips leaving another open-mouthed kiss, this time closer to your lower belly. His voice does a good job of soothing your erratic mind, his arms envelope you as he promises, “Whatever it is I’m here now, tell me what you want.”

He does a good job of putting you on the spot, you think, but unlike your usual self, you don’t have the patience for teasing tonight. “I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes off stronger than before, but it wavers as you also add, “please.” The last word brings a small smirk to Lewis’ face, and you let out a shriek as he quickly throws you onto the bed. “You almost scared me to death,” you complain, pushing out your lower lip in a pout.

“You’ll be fine,” he lets out a breathy laugh while quickly getting rid of the towel still, miraculously, hanging on his hips. The smirk on his face grows as he watches you shamelessly checking him out, but he never breaks his gaze from yours when your eyes meet as he wraps a hand around his cock to jerk himself for a few times. You spread your legs to accommodate his body as he leans over your lying figure by using his free arm as support. Rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick slit a few times, you can feel his breathy chuckle hit your skin while his lips run over your jaw to leave small kisses. “You’re so wet for me,” he mumbles, and the whimper that leaves your lips when he makes a point to rub his tip over your clit wins another chuckle, “you’re gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble as you nod frantically, “yes Lu, I’m gonna be good, I promise. Please, just fuck me.” You try to tempt him by wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him closer – either you are successful and he gives in, or he is just as desperate to get inside you as you are desperate to feeling him because he complies with your movements as he nudges the tip of his cock into you in a slow push forward. The stretch is burning every single time, and usually he gives you enough time to accommodate his size before proceeding to fuck your brains out. But this time, he doesn’t waste any time as he pushes himself fully into you until he’s buried inside you to the hilt. The gasp you begin to let out turns into a silent scream as the feeling of being full consumes you, “Fuck, Lewis–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes you through the initial pain, “you’re alright, just breathe th for a bit.” And you do what he tells you to because… well, you know he won’t do anything to hurt you. He brings his free hand towards your face to cup your cheek, which you respond by turning your head towards the warmness. “Tell me when the pain goes away,” he whispers against your skin – he finds he absolutely loves the way your skin flushes every single time he fucks you, and the thought makes him freeze for a second. Love? That is not something he should be thinking about, not especially when he’s buried inside you, because you both agreed–

Deciding to respond wordlessly, you press a soft kiss in the middle of Lewis’ palm, whilst also attempting to roll your hips, but then whining because of the additional pressure, “Please, Lewis, please move.”

That must’ve done the job of breaking Lewis out of whatever trance he was in, because once he hears your whiny voice pleading him to move, he starts thrusting his hip in and out of you in a rhythm that simply leaves you breathless in mere seconds. It’s the stress of the season, you think to yourself, but Lewis’ movements just get faster and deeper until he hits that one spot inside you that makes your whines turn into a scream and has you arching into him. You can’t see his reaction with your eyes fluttered close, but he stills his movements for a few moments as he looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in his life. He waits until your erratic breathing to get back to normal before he starts rolling his hips against yours again, but this time the tempo he adopts is much slower, sensual, and almost… too intimate for it to only be considered physical between the two of you.

Your eyes flutter open as you look at him with confusion, “Wha– What are you–?” But he only cuts you off by pressing his lips against you to swallow your question in a kiss. The slower tempo is surprisingly more pleasurable then his usual style that you’ve dubbed fast and furious, and every time his hips roll at a certain angle, he brushes your clit in a way that makes your feet curl in pleasure.

He is breathless when he pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, but then again, so are you. The way he seems to gaze into your eyes make your breath hitch, and if you thought that was Lewis showing his emotions, he decides to put them into words. “So good for me, lovey,” he moans, yes moans because one thing you’ve learned from the start is that real men moan, “you were made for me, weren’t you?” His accent gets thicker, which is a tell that he’s getting there, but he won’t let himself come before he makes sure you’re taken care of. “Look at how you’re taking me, reckon I can feel myself if I place my hand on your belly?” It makes him laugh when you whine as you attempt to slither your hand towards your stomach to test his theory, but one deep stroke of his hips and your arms envelope them around his shoulders to use him as a support. “Perfect, you’re just perfect for me, hm? My perfect, pretty, little girl.”

“Please,” you whimper out, the tears that form in the corner of your eyes threatening to fall, “I’m so close.” It’s been such an emotional day, and a shitty month that all you wanted was to be consumed by him –  and now that you have him in your arms, acting like you are more than just two friends who use each other for something so trivial and human as urges, you don’t want to let him go. Especially not when he makes you feel like you could love him for the rest of your life. Even if just the thought of it is enough to make your heart race. Needless to say, the sob you let out is unexpected on both of your ends, and you know he’s about to stop when he slows down even more, but you give him a stern look through your tears, “Don’t you dare stop.” You moan, loud enough for his neighbours downstairs to hear, once he picks up the pace again, but it’s still slow enough for it to be considered love making and not fucking by both of your standards.

He knows you’re close when your walls start clenching around him, which makes it much harder for him to compose himself. So, being the perfect gentleman he is, he starts rubbing your clit with one of his hands, his fingers work hard to bring you even more pleasure. He watches in amazement as you trash around under his body and as your whimpers and moans get louder gradually – until you are coming undone around him, starting to sob because of the pressure gets released in your tummy, that is. His hips still continue their languid movements, just like the faster movement of his fingers, as he fucks you through your release, mumbling sweet nothings and encouragements into your ear. Lewis does his best to kiss the tears that escape from your eyes, his breath fanning over your feverish skin.

“So good,” your moans get softer as you get calmer after a while, though your voice is still scratchy, “wanna feel you more, Lu.” Sliding your hand between your bodies to take his hand away from your clit, the loss of his touch makes you whine softly and he watches you in confusion while still continuing his movements slowly, but you see the way his eyes light up with a dark look when you wrap his fingers around your throat, and thankfully he understands the message as he tightens his hold just the way you like it. “Yeah, just like that,” you moan, encouraging him to pick up the pace. This time, it’s your turn to whisper praises riddled with encouragement, and you know it gets to him, because every single stroke his hips deliver end up making him fill you more and more, as if that was possible. The sobs coming from your lips transform into ones of pleasure, bringing Lewis closer and closer to his release.

“Look at me,” his voice is sharp, and it makes you immediately fix your eyes on his. There is an immense sense of wanting to please him, or rather make him proud within you, and he rewards you with a burning kiss that leaves you panting and wanting more as he spills himself into you. As he pulls away to moan out your name, his thumb dragging down your bottom lip. You gently bite down on his thumb while you manage to get out a satisfied moan, eyes closing ever so slightly as you feel him spill into you, and he keeps pulling you even closer to himself when he lets his body fall next to yours.

You have no idea how he manages to still stay inside you, but you can feel his lips pressing gentle kisses across your hairline, and brushing away the sweaty strands. “You feel better now, lovey?” Smiling at the tiredness dripping from his voice, you hum airily, a satisfied smile on your face while you move your neck to look at him.  “Good,” his whisper brushes your lips as he nudges the tip of your nose with his, earning a giggle from you while he wipes away the dry tears on your cheeks.

“Do you have to leave?” There is a whiny undertone to your question, and it makes him give you a gentle smile.

“Not for a while,” he assures you, then he presses his lips softly on yours in a small kiss, “I promise.”

He grabs your hand to weave his fingers through yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles as he keeps silent for a moment – because he knows at that moment, just because you asked, he’ll cancel every single plan he’s made, just to spend more time with you so that he can make you smile like that. “Until you get sick of me, that is.” Your tired laughter fills his ears until it is interrupted by a yawn. He carefully moves you so that he gently takes himself out of you, and rolls you sideways so he can wrap his arms around as he pulls you close to cuddle. “Go to sleep, lovey, we’ll talk in the morning,” he mumbles as he presses soft kisses to your bare shoulder. You close your eyes with a smile on your face, burying yourself into his chest as much as you can, and hear him mumble, “My lovey,” before promptly falling asleep.

You pretend you didn’t hear him in the morning because the arrangement the two of you made was about keeping things causal.

But you respond by squeezing his hand three times in return anyway.

And he responds.

[bunnyrafe]

We need to see more about stepbro!jj he'd love to corrupt you, and would totally try to grind his crotch on you everytime you bend over to pick up anything on the floor

rubbed my hands together deviously after seeing this ask. 100% — you’re so sweet that he just has to mess with you. never ever bully you because he can’t stand to see you cry, but he simply tests the waters and flusters you.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. taboo themes stepcest, f!reader, jj being kinda icky, dubcon, grinding.

it’s been a quiet day. your morning was a bit gloomy once you realized jj had already ran off, hopefully not getting into any trouble. you pouted to yourself, made some tea, and decided to get to cleaning— someone has to.

starting with the mound of laundry jj had so kindly left. you can’t be that mad when there’s random items of your own mixed in, too. tank tops and skirts and panties that you have no clue jj steals from you sometimes…

the front door finally creaks open only to slam shut around noon. you hear the sound of jj’s boots thumping against the floor boards, down the hall until he stops at your room.

your ears ring as they expect to hear his voice but instead they recieve nothing. your face goes warm once you realize what kind of position you’re in. hands and knees, on the floor trying to yank random items out from under your bed. only in your stupid, frilly shorts that drive him insane and what has to be your tiniest top. jj’s a good man but sometimes you’re practically begging him for it, “you’re killin’ me, baby.”

your brain turns to mush when he calls you that. you look over your shoulder with wide eyes, watching him step closer and kneel down to your level; “i— i did your laundry,” you squeak out as if he gives a fuck.

“how sweet.” he grunts while grabbing up your hips, making you gasp when he yanks you against him. you already want to whine. only because he may get your shorts dirty.

“just the sweetest fuckin’ girl, aren’t you?” his words are drawled out against your ear. you can feel his cock pressing against your ass even through all the layers you two are still wearing, even more so when he ruts his hips.

“jj—” you choke out just as he sucks in a breath through his teeth, squeezing your hips under his deft digits.

“there we go.” he groans when you instinctively push back against him, wiggling your hips and nearly making him blow his load in his shorts right then and there.

his eyes roll back into his head for a moment before he dips down, kissing the swell of your cheek, “maybe i should give you a reward, huh? for doin’ all your chores...”

[dyaz-stories]

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

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A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso  and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

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[loulovingho]

For a prompt: bucktommy moving in together and the 118 helping them move? 🥰 or them throwing a housewarming party

this turned... dirtier than expected. they both really enjoy clipboard buck, I'm sorry!

“You'll notice some boxes have green stripes, some are red, others are blue, purple, etcetera. You'll also notice, when entering the house, that there is a color on every door or along the entryway to each room. Each box should be placed in the room with its designated color. Example-”

“Buck,” Chimney groaned from where he stood inside the moving truck, “we get it.”

“Example,” Buck continued with a glare. “The living room has been given the color blue. Only boxes with blue stripes should enter the living room. Pop quiz! Maddie, should green boxes go in the living room?”

She responded with a glare.

Buck got the point. “Moving on. Bobby, if you happen to come upon a box that doesn't have a color, what should you do?”

“Make a citizens arrest?”

“No.” Buck pointed the pen in his hand at Tommy, “But that's a good idea for later,” he said, earning him gagging sounds from the majority of the people surrounding them. All except for Tommy, who simply smiled and winked.

“You see,” Buck explained, “Tommy went to the store for more boxes and accidentally purchased 7 of them that had no color on them. Not a single stripe to be found. Those particular boxes are miscellaneous. They should go directly into the garage until I can open and inspect them.”

He glanced down at his clipboard, marking off a few things before looking back up at the group. “Alright, I believe that's it. Does everyone know the jobs they've been given?”

The majority of responses were given in grunts and hums.

“Excellent. Please bring any and all questions to me. I will be wandering around throughout the house all day. I should be easy to find. If you cannot find me, please head over to Tommy, who will then direct you to me. There will be a provided lunch arriving at noon. A designated thirty minutes for eating. If there are currently no questions, you may begin.”

As everyone began to disperse and started unloading the truck, Tommy smiled over at Eddie. “Is he not the cutest thing you've ever seen?”

“Oh dear God,” Eddie replied with a grimace. “You two really are meant for each other.”

*****

“You were amazing today,” Tommy said, peppering kisses down Buck's neck. They were laying on the couch, surrounded by blue-striped boxes.

Buck hummed. “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head to give Tommy more space to work with.

“Mhm. Took control of the whole thing. Had it all planned perfectly. And when you yelled at Eddie after he put a red box in the bathroom?” He bit lightly against Buck's pulse point. “That was so hot.”

“God, Tommy,” Buck replied breathlessly, before adding, “he should have known better. Purple was posted on the door.”

“I know it was. It was very clear.”

“It was clear,” Buck agreed. “Purple and red are very different.”

“Very different.” Tommy continued to alternate between sucking and biting on Buck's neck as he brought a hand down and slowly began unbuttoning Buck's shirt.

Buck ran his hands down Tommy's back, pushing his hips down when he reached his ass, causing their bodies to grind together.

“I could call him up,” Buck suggested, “yell at him some more. Or call Chimney and tell him I- I know he was the one who chipped the paint on the front door. Tell him I'm sending him a bill.”

Tommy responded by smashing his lips against Buck's in a wet kiss, licking his way into Buck's mouth. “I'd love that, Evan,” he said, parting just enough to speak, “but Eddie already told me he wouldn't be answering your calls for two days. And I'm pretty sure Howie blocked your number.”

Buck nearly growled, his eyes darkening. “God, I love your dirty talk.”

They kissed again, even sloppier this time with hands roaming and grabbing, shirts being tugged on and nails dragging against skin.

After a minute or two, Tommy pulled back with a gleam in his eye. “Now, about that citizens arrest you mentioned earlier...”

Buck grinned. “Bedroom,” he demanded, giving Tommy's ass a couple of pats to get him up.

Tommy pressed one more kiss to his lips with a, “Yes, Sir,” before getting up and letting Buck lead the way.

[winwintea]

perfect strangers - l.dh

PAIRING ↬ doctor!lee donghyuck x fem! reader

GENRES ↬ smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), romance, fluff, ballroom dancing, masquerade, strangers to lovers, forbidden love, arranged marriages, eloping lol…

TAGS ↬ the punch has alcohol in it (oh no!), one-night stand turned into something bigger, housekeeper is such a cockblock, they are both so DOWN bad for each other, doctor haechan!!!! also pink hair haechan i love him, idk how to tag smut this is my first smut guys i wanna kms, they just fuck how do i explain that

SUMMARY ↬ one night, you fell in love with a man who would come to you the next morning as your doctor. unfortunately, you were betrothed to someone else, but you wanted to feel what love really was. "whatever choices we make, just know that my heart is yours."

WORD COUNT ↬ 4.0k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ baby’s first smut (kinda not really) fic ever! this is a gift for @lyvhie bc i usually don’t write such suggestive works, so pls don’t request me to write some 😭😭 took me a while to finish this bc i was so uncomfortable writing this, but i tried my best and now i wanna die… thank you so much to @galacticnct and @h-aechanie for helping me get through this i lowkey would’ve never finished if it wasn’t for the support from you two. <33

It all happened like a dream. You woke up comfortable, wrapped in your own soft bed sheets, and slowly sat up.

“Will you be getting up, Miss, or would you like to rest a bit longer?”

“No, I’ve slept enough. It’s about time I got up.” Your housekeeper nodded and pulled open the curtains. To judge from the sunlight streaming in the large balcony windows, it was close to noon already.

“It was quite the shock last night when I heard you’d collapsed after the ball and couldn’t come home until morning. You have to take care of your health, Miss Y/N, especially so close to your wedding. I knew that masquerade was a bad idea. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m alright… sorry for worrying you.” You started to get out of bed, before suddenly stopping.

“What’s the matter Miss?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just a little thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

The housekeeper smiled and shook her head, then left the room, closing your bedroom door behind her. You sat back against the pillows and hugged yourself tightly.

It wasn’t a dream. You could still feel that scorching heat inside you. His heat. The man with the dusty pink hair and pale brown eyes that burned through his mask…

The rising heat beneath your skin brought memories of the previous night rushing back.

The night before

So this was a masquerade ball…? It was an even more lavish affair than you were expecting. When the invitation came, everyone advised you not to attend so close to your wedding. But you had insisted, wanting to have the experience at least once in your life. You thought it would be interesting in sort of an academic way, but-

“May I have this dance, miss?” A masked man approached you silently.

“Oh, um, I… No, I’m sorry.” Unused to such occasions, you weren’t sure how to respond when people approached you. You retired to a quieter corner of the ballroom and sipped the punch handed to you by one of the servants circulating with trays. You sighed. I’m the picture of an overly sheltered child, aren’t I?

The ballroom seemed like a different world, guests dancing in their bright finery, their faces hidden, laughter ringing out. You’ve heard that all sorts of passionate affairs begin at masque balls. Perhaps you were even wondering if any fateful meetings had happened tonight.

Your family loved you, and the man they had arranged for you to marry had sworn to make you happy. But even as peaceful and loving as your home life was, in your heart of hearts, you felt something was missing. You wanted to experience a passion that burned like the sun. It seemed so wonderful to love someone with your whole heart and soul. To walk on air just at the thought of that person. To feel like the whole world is dancing around you.

You drained your punch absently as you daydreamed. Wait… this is pretty powerful stuff. Is this why people call alcohol liquid courage? Yeah… you felt all giddy and like you could take on the whole world.

Perhaps it was your sudden agitation that spread the alcohol so quickly through your system. At any rate, you were very much tipsy. You leaned against a wall, giggling. Someone tapped your shoulder.

“Hey there… Are you all right? Can I help? Just say the word.” You’d gotten carried away with thoughts of experiencing a hot passionate romance, and drinking the night away when someone came up to check on you. “Can I get you some water? Or would you like to take a rest somewhere?”

There was only one thing you wanted. “I want… to fall in love. I want to love someone… with my whole heart and soul.” Beware the truth at the bottom of the wineglass, indeed. No one was meant to hear that little secret.

The helpful stranger blinked at you in surprise, then chuckled, “I can help with that too, if you’d like. Why don’t you try loving me?”

“Huh? But we don’t even know eac-”

Something soft sealed your lips before you could finish. His kiss was sudden and heady, like the effects of liquor masked by the sweetness of fruit, and every bit as disorienting. “You’re not supposed to reveal your face at a masquerade, but nothing’s stopping us from getting to know each other’s bodies. You can have all of me, as long as you love me in return. Deal?”

He pulled you close, and you quickly agreed– It was exactly what you wanted.

After that you spent the night with him. The memory alone sent a thrill through you unlike anything you had felt before. His voice had been as sweet as sugar cubes. You could hear it even now. Pale brown eyes seen through his mask. His dusty pink hair that tickled your skin. The gleam of his piercings on his ears. He wasn’t wrong… You had gotten to know his body quite well. Even though you never learned his name…

Your chest tightened at the memory of that one sweet night with your masked stranger. He’s the only one who’s ever made you feel that way… and you don’t even know his name? You wished you could see him again, but how would you find him?

A knock interrupted your thoughts. “I’ve brought your water, Miss! And the doctor’s just arrived to see you.”

“But I feel fine now. There wasn’t any need to call a doctor…”

“No need to be brave, Miss Y/N. Besides, you still look all flushed.” Ugh. You couldn’t say that you just got drunk at the ball, or that your staying out all night had nothing to do with feeling ill, so… “Right this way, Doctor.” Oblivious to your conundrum, the housekeeper ushered the doctor in. Your breath caught at the sight of him.

“Lee Donghyuck, at your service, Miss Y/N.” Oh my god. The pale brown eyes and dusty, pale, pink hair. He was, without a doubt, the man with whom you had spent the previous night with. Were you actually dreaming now? “I’ll begin the examination right away. Madam, if you would step outside?”

“Of course, thank you Doctor.” Once she had left, the doctor seated himself in the chair beside your bed.

“Well then, if you’ll unbutton your nightgown, we can begin.”

“I…um…?” What did he just say? As you floundered for words, he snorted and began to chuckle.

“If you’re too tired to undress yourself, I could help you with the buttons like I did last night.”

Oh damn. Okay. You needed to hold yourself together. “I knew it was you! Did you know who I was all along? Is that why you’re here?”

“Not at all. I had no idea we would meet again until I stepped inside just now. I’ve made house calls here before, but I had no idea you were a member of this family.” As he spoke, Donghyuck got on with the exam in an efficient manner. “Your housekeeper was worried that you might have suddenly taken ill, but there’s no cause for alarm.”

“Thank you…”

Donghyuck looked at you as he closed his doctor’s bag. “You’re very well loved.” Indeed this was the case. So why had you said what you had said the night before? His direct gaze seemed to be asking yourself that same question.

You felt you owed him an answer to his unspoken question. “My family loves me… to the point of being overprotective. They’ve picked the perfect fiance for me. Everyone around me cares for me a great deal. But…” But you’ve only experienced love on the receiving end. At least… until last night. Your eyes were drawn to his; You couldn’t look away. Moving as one, we leaned closer, until our faces were almost touching. “Dongh– Mmf!?”

He wrapped you in his arms just as he had done the night before, and you felt the heat of his lips over yours. The flames he’d kindled in your roared back to life, and you threw your arms around him in return. “What’s wrong with me…?” Donghyuck’s voice was faint and breathless. “I’ve met so many people, but no one who’s captivated me the way you do…”

“I feel the same way…” You always wanted to experience a fiery passionate love. It was something you had only ever read about in books. What you’d imagined was nothing like the scorching feeling in your chest. This isn’t the sweet longing they write about in stories. Now that you know what love feels like from the other side, you might never be the same.

Donghyuck let out a tremulous sigh as your lips parted once again. He rested his forehead against yours. “Y/N, I want you to show me love the way I did for you. I’ve been searching for someone to love me. You’ve been wanting someone to love. We’re perfect for each other.”

“Hyuck…” Every fiber of your being was irresistibly drawn toward him. It was enough to make you believe in destiny. You hardly recognize yourself like this. It’s a little scary. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff. One more step, and you wouldn’t be able to take it back. Even knowing that, the fall still called out to you.

“Y/N… one more…” His pleading tone had you leaning in before you could think better of it. His breath puffed across your lips and–

There was a knock at your door. It opened and your housekeeper came in. “How is Miss Y/N, Doctor?”

“Just a little overtired, that’s all. With some rest, she’ll be as good as new.” Donghyuck’s innocent act was flawless. You breathed a sigh of relief. That was really close. She nearly saw us too. “I’ll let you get your rest, Miss Y/N, and come back later to check on you. More stealthily this time.” He said the last part quietly enough that the housekeeper didn’t seem to hear, but your heart leapt into your throat all the same.

“Please do, Doctor. With her wedding coming up so soon, Miss Y/N needs to take special care of her health.” Those words hit you like a splash of cold water.

“Of course.” Donghyuck left immediately, so you didn’t get to see his expression. The housekeeper saw him out, and you watched from your window as he left through the front door. As you watched him walk away, he suddenly turned around. He was already quite far off, but he looked straight at you and gave you a small wave. Without thinking you ducked behind the curtain. Your pulse had just begun to slow, and now it was thundering in your ears again. We’ve only met last night, and we’ve barely spoken to one another… Can anyone really fall in love that quickly?

Last night’s events still remained on your mind. The blaze showed no signs of abating; in fact, it was growing so hot, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You feel like you’re being burned up from within, but even if you were consumed entirely, this flame wouldn’t go out… Is this what it feels like to love someone?

The love you had experienced was warm and comforting. This feeling was a roaring blaze; something dangerous– even maddening. You were restless. All you wanted to do was run after Donghyuck.

You couldn’t do that. You’re engaged. To be married, and soon. The thought of your wedding seemed to pour cold water over the passion burning in your chest. This feeling you’ve just discovered has to die before your wedding. You remembered his pale brown eyes, and your ribs started to creak, your chest too narrow to contain the emotion within.

—

Later that evening, you heard a tap on your balcony window.

“Good evening, I’m here to check on my patient.” As he’d promised that afternoon, Donghyuck had returned. It’s only been a few hours, but it feels like you’d been apart much longer.

“Hyuck…?” You ran to him and threw yourself into his arms. We fit perfectly together, and the feeling of contentment it gave you defied description. “Hyuck, I know we only met yesterday, but the thought that I’d never see you again was awful. Today, just the few hours we’ve been apart felt too long. That’s strange, isn’t it? Maybe there really is something wrong with me.”

“If there is, my symptoms are even worse than yours.” You looked up as he cupped your face in his hands. There was desperation in his eyes as he gazed into yours. “The thought of you makes my heart so full it feels like my chest might burst. I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t forget the way you loved me last night. One night will never be enough. I need more. I need you to love me. I need to feel your lips on my skin, breathe in the scent of your hair, explore every line and curve of your body… or I’ll lose my mind.”

Those sugar sweet words might have sounded like idle flirtation if it hadn’t been for the fire in his eyes. You had no doubt he desperately wanted you every bit as desperately as he claimed. Your reflection in his eyes looked just as hungry as he did.

As we struggled to convey by looks what words could not express, his arms tightened around you. “I wish I could spirit you away and keep you all to myself. At first, I just thought you were sweet. A girl with naive ideas of romance. But when you touched me, I could tell you were different from everyone I’d ever met. Your desire to love someone was real and pure. You had so much affection to give, a man could drown in it. I wanted to. You’re the missing piece I’ve been searching for, all my life. Last night, I knew. Say the word and I’ll take you away from here. I’ll give up everything to be with you.”

“Hyuck…” His clinging arms, his pleading voice, his entire being seemed to cry out for you.

“Please, Y/N. Keep wanting me. Make me yours and only yours.”

All you have to do is agree and the man you love–Donghyuck–will take you wherever you want to go. But that would hurt your family and everyone who’s loved and nurtured you? If you refuse, you can continue your peaceful life, surrounded by people who care for you. But you might never be able to see Donghyuck like this again.

“I don’t need anything but you. Do you want me, Y/N? Or…”

“Of course I do… Donghyuck… I want your body and soul. And I want to give you all of me in return. I feel the same way you do. I don’t need anything but you.” You can’t lie to yourself about what you feel.

Donghyuck’s wide, surprised eyes narrowed into a smile. “I’m so glad to hear that… Can I kiss you?” You nodded, and Donghyuck leaned in hesitantly to brush his lips against yours. If possible, the hint of awkwardness in his kiss only intensified the affection you felt for him. "Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for loving me. This is the happiest I've been in my entire life."

"I know... I've never been this happy, either.” You never imagined loving someone would bring you such utter happiness. We fit into each other's arms like puzzle pieces. Our heartbeats synchronized as if we were a single being. "It's so strange. Until I met you, I had no idea what love was, and yet.. I feel like this is how we were always meant to end up.” Maybe this is how destiny works.

"I think you're right. We were fated for each other." It was almost as if he had heard your thoughts.

"Haha, I was just thinking that.”

"You were? We really are two peas in a pod." We shared a look and burst into giggles.We shared a look and burst into giggles.

Our sweet reunion was interrupted by a sudden knock at your bedroom door. Without waiting for a reply, your housekeeper opened the door. “Miss Y/N? I heard some odd sounds, are you– Oh, my heavens!” There wasn’t time for Donghyuck to hide, we were well and truly caught. “Oh, you’re the doctor who visited this afternoon. What on earth are you doing here at this house? Don’t tell me you broke into Miss Y/N’s room for some nefarious–”

“No, no! Nothing nefarious!” You waved your hands not liking the suspicious look on your housekeeper’s face. “I’m sorry we startled you, I never intended for this to happen, but.. I’ve fallen in love with this man.” Your heart pounded in your chest, and your voice wobbled as you explained. Donghyuck pressed your hands between his which kept them from trembling. Bolstered by his support, you felt the courage to press on. “I know how awful this seems, but I have to be true to my heart. So I’ve decided I’m going to elope with him…”

“Oh, Miss Y/N, you can’t! I… Help! Someone, come quickly!” Looking like she had seen a ghost, your housekeeper turned and shouted down the hallway for help. As she raised the alarm, lights came on all the mansion. This was just going from bad to worse.

You looked up at Donghyuck. His expression was impossibly calm. ”Like I said before, as long as I have you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Nothing’s changed. All I need is you, Donghyuck.”

He flashed you a smile, then tugged on your hands. “Then, let’s go.”

“All right, Let’s run away, Donghyuck.” We could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway outside. Without a backward glance, Donghyuck lifted you into his arms and sprang out the window.

Our wild flight through the sleeping city led us, at last, to a small inn. “The staff are friends of mine. No one will find us here. It’s been a while since I’ve run that far. You must be exhausted.”

“No, I’m fine.” You were still riding high on the excitement of our escape. You caught a similarly wild look in his eyes.

“Glad to hear it. You don’t mind if I perform a physical exam on you, do you? I need to make certain your body isn’t at the point of exhaustion and can perform more vigorous exercises. It’s extremely scientific.” Donghyuck leaned in with a smile and kissed you.

“Mm… Well, I’d hate to be a difficult patient…”

Suddenly in a modest city, the two of us shed our clothes and fell into each other’s arms. It made no difference to us that he was a doctor and you were the daughter of a noble family. The two of you were simply two lovers brought together by fate.

“Do you know? I think we were born to love each other.” Donghyuck whispered as he brushed his lips over your flushed skin.

“I think so too. I was born to meet you, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck smiled with guileless joy. “I’m so happy. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. Thank you for finding me, Y/N. And for loving me.” He enfolded you in a tight embrace and kissed you softly. “I vow to live for this love, now and for all time.”

Your heart soared. Loving someone can bring pain and confusion. But it’s also the source of the greatest possible happiness. Just being in Donghyuck’s arms filled you with the greatest pleasure you had ever known. You know this flame inside you will never go out.

—

Some time later, you and Donghyuck had acquired a small house for yourselves. He continued his work as a doctor and you became his assistant. Your lives were busy and happy. One day, a letter arrived.

“It’s from your parents, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I thought my father would never answer…” Once you were feeling somewhat settled, you had written to your parents. You thanked them for how lovingly they had raised you, and apologized for running away. You told them that you two were working hard to bring happiness to as many people as you could. You had done your best to explain your feelings and make amends for the people you had hurt.

It took some time, but your father seemed to understand how you felt. “It says here that the man you were betrothed to has gotten married and seems happy. Father says that Mother, the housekeeper, and everyone at home wants to see me… so I should come visit. Can I?”

“Of course.” Donghyuck leaned over the back of your chair to hug you. “I was hoping to keep you all to myself forever, but I suppose I’ll have to share.”

“Oh, Hyuck… my body and soul already belong to you. What more do you need?”

“I’m a bottomless pit of need when it comes to you. Indulge me?” With an impish smile, he leaned down for a kiss. Our one night of forbidden passion had grown into a deeper love. You thought of all the ways he made you shiver with pleasure, and reached out to touch him the same way. “Mm… Haha, Y/N, you’re being a terrible tease…”

You smiled, continuing with light movements with your fingers.

Donghyuck continued his lecture as he arched his back to press his already bared skin against your lips. “Be gentle with me… Ah That’s just the right amount of pressure… Yes, like that.” His bright eyes and quickening breaths made his pleasure obvious. “I’ll have to spoil you even more than usual as a reward.”

His clever fingers found their mark as they always did, and you felt yourself begin to come apart… As his kisses rained down over you, you realized just how parched you had been without his love.

“Let me hear your voice. Let me feel you.” His fingers played over your skin, making you moan and shudder under him, breathless. Donghyuck’s breath almost seemed to steam with the heat of his stored up desire. The flush on his cheeks lent an added wantonness to his expression. Seeing him like that kindled an answering fire in you. He had shown you the true depth of his desire, and it shook you, even as your body thrilled to his every touch.

“Hyuck… if you keep doing that, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll lose my mind. It feels too good.”

“Might be a nice change of pace, after the last few days. Show me what frenzy looks on you, Y/N…” Your back arched, hips jerking, as his fingers sought out your sensitive spots. You could hardly keep up with him; your head spun with nonstop stimulation. You were on fire, you were melting, you were overwhelmed with his touch, and starved for it at the same time.

“Ahaha, sorry… I love your reactions so much, it’s easy to get carried away.” You were a bit overwhelmed by Donghyuck’s enthusiasm, but you certainly didn’t want him to stop. The desire in his eyes and his hands, the heat building between us… his love throbbed like a frenzied heartbeat through it all. Urgent yet tender, each caress made your heart beat faster.

"Mm..." He pulled off your shirt and tossed it away, impatient to get at your skin. Lips and tongue mapped your throat, your chest. It was more than physical, after the fear of losing him and the relief of his miraculous cure. Every sensation was heightened-- you couldn't restrain your voice. "Ahh... Hyuck..." You couldn't get enough of him; your need only grew with each touch. You clung to his shoulders and called out the name you loved over and over.

"Rather than take everything from you, I want to give you everything that I am."

"Haah.. Aahh!” Donghyuck lowered himself over you, and pushed inside you. Finally you were together, as close as two people could be. Happiness bloomed inside you like a garden where spring had come early. Tears pricked your eyes.

"I love you, Y/N. Let me show you just how much."

Every touch, every word fanned the flames of your passion hotter and higher, till nothing existed in your world but him. You gave him your heart, fully and without reservation. Of course, there had never been any doubt.

And although you two had only met as strangers, you knew for certain that this was simply destiny.

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @h-aechanie

[seancurry1]

Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020. 

And you are a barnacle. 

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle. 

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started. 

All of that is true. 

And you are still a barnacle. 

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead. 

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry! 

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do. 

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect. 

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today. 

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel! 

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.) 

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do. 

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for. 

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket. 

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.) 

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching. 

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker. 

You are a barnacle. 

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

[zombvic]

THREE'S A PARTY (mason mount x reader)

summary : in which the beloved couple announce they're expecting a baby

face claim : noone in particular

notes : yall idk what to write.. this is more unserious than serious but we move on 😝💯 also don't u dare mention me adding lando cause 😴

pairings : mason mount x reader

Liked by masonmount, f1 & 3,992,002 others.

yourusename about to be the flyest baby out there.. TRUUUUST 🙏🏽🔥💯

View all 2,547 comments.

user HOLYFUCK

user wasn't on my bingo 2024 card omg 😭

masonmount drippiest baby out there 🗣🗣

- yourusername literally 😭🤞🏼

user they're gonna be the cutest parents i swr

user oh my gosh.. parents (LITERALLY)

user that baby has more shoes than me and ITS NOT EVEN BORN YET 🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️

user if it's a girl yall better name her chelsea 😇

- user even if it's a boy

cmpulisic crazy way to announce a baby mate

- masonmount stop hating 👎🏻

yourusername posted a new story.

Liked by chelseafc, masonmount & 1,002,485 others.

yourusename it's been a while chat! SO...... we had our daughter, alessía mount, a few months ago. she's indeed been the drippiest baby so far tho 😝☝🏽 anyways i missed u guys tbh

View all 2,547 comments.

user adopt me PLEASEEEEE

user ugh to be the daughter of mason mount and y/n .. a girl can dream

user he's so smitten im sobbing

mclaren cutest baby ever

user never wanted to be a baby so bad

user should've been called chelsea smh

- yourusename dw it's her middle name 😴

user imagine being the daughter of THE y/n and mason mount

user that baby is gonna be majestic when she grows up

landonorris ADORABLEEEE ☹️🙏🏻

chelseafc congrats you guys !!

user me when

Liked by chelseafc, cmpulisic & 4,772,485 others.

masonmount my little girl 💙☹️

View all 2,547 comments.

user parenting goals

user he loves that girl so much

user actually sobbing right now

- user literally im never getting over dad mase

yourusename watch it with the caption..

- masonmount wdym babe

- yourusername OUR**** ?????

cmpulisic where is my picture credit

- masonmount you took a single picture mate

- cmpulisic so what? that's a third of this post ☹️

yourusename who's the guy in the 2nd picture he's mad fit 😝💯

- masonmount he's got a kid with his girlfriend whom he loves very much

chelseafcw future striker for chelsea 🙌🏼

- yourusername future stargirl

- masonmount project messi but female 🫡🫡

did this while watching practice two for the monaco grand prix and omd the mclaren livery looked sexy bro 😴😴😴 should be the main one i SWEAR its so nice to watch

[shunsuiken]

HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you. 

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—” 

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.” 

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out! 

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.” 

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap. 

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.