#I know we still have a few months but the end of the year can get rather hectic

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[shanastoryteller]

They destroy a hundred seals in thirty days, which feels like good progress until Sam realizes even if they can keep up this pace, it’s going to take them nearly two years. “There has to be a faster way to do this.”

“It took three hundred thousand years to set the apocalypse in motion,” Castiel says dryly. “Patience is a virtue.”

“It took a year from first seal to last, don’t exaggerate,” he says, pacing the length of the motel room. Cas may not need things like food and sleep, but Sam is still human at the end of the day.

He’s refusing to touch the virtue bit. No one’s keeping track of those and they both know it.

Cas gives him a bitchy look that Sam tells himself he’s not growing fond of. “Yes. Sixty six seals took a year to open. We’ve destroyed nearly twice that in a month. You are not being reasonable about this.”

Maybe not, but they don’t have time to be. Can’t Cas feel it? Like something’s bearing down on them, hot breath on the back of their necks. If there’s one constant in Sam’s life, it’s that he never gets enough time. He doesn’t see why this should be any different. “What if we killed Lilith? She’s the last one, right? As long as the first seal hasn’t been opened, killing her destroys the seal. If the last one can’t be opened, Lucifer can’t be set free. Right?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. Sam kind of hates how quickly he’s picked that up this time around, but he’s only realizing now that it’s a gesture Cas learned from him, not Dean, and the first go around they hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time together in the beginning. “Likely correct. But even if we could find her, I’m unsure of your capabilities.”

“Fuck you too,” he says without heat. “I killed Azazel. I killed her before. I can do it again.”

“She wanted to be killed, last time,” Cas says. “She knew her death would grant Lucifer’s freedom and she did not fight you with all her strength. Killing Azazel is not killing Lilith. They are different beasts.”

“Wait,” he says, “are you telling me that Lilith is stronger than Azazel?”

Having killed them both, that’s really not what he would have guessed. Which means that Cas is probably right. Damn.

“What is stronger, blood or bone?” he asks. “She is Lucifer’s firstborn. There is power there.”

Great. “I’m more powerful this time,” he points out. Azazel’s blood – Lucifer’s blood – is still buzzing under his skin, not quite as hot and pounding as it was at first swallow, but not fading and sputtering out like Ruby’s blood always had. Something in between, maybe, except those first few drops of blood as a baby hadn’t had any immediate affects either. It’s probably a good thing he won’t live another twenty two years. Who knows what Lucifer’s blood will have done to him by then.

“Yes,” Cas says. “I just don’t know if you’re powerful enough.”

And if he’s not, Lilith won’t even kill him. He needs to be alive for Lucifer to wear, after all. No, whatever she does to him will be much worse.

Sam.

He turns, even though he knows they’re alone. But his name had been so clear.

Sam, please!

He looks around uneasily. “Do you hear that?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Seriously?” he demands.

Sam, please, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything, please help me. Help her. Sam –

He moves, not entirely sure what he’s doing, shifting from one place to the other, not entirely sure where he’s going until he arrives.

He’s standing in an empty apartment building, a ghost howling in front of him that looks sort of familiar. What the hell?

“Sam!”

Taking his eyes off the ghost is probably stupid, but he looks behind him anyway and finds Ellen on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Jo is clutched in her arms, skin pale and eyes open and unseeing, bits of plaster in her hair and a gaping hole in the wall behind them.

“Holmes?” he asked incredulously, turning back to the ghost who’s getting steadily closer. Last time they trapped him in the basement and cemented him inside. Last time Sam hadn’t spent years researching how to banish the worst sorts of evil.

The incantation rolls off his tongue easily, half Latin and half something older than that, and Holmes screams as he burns up in whisps of smoke.

“Sam, please,” Ellen begs. “Please. You have to help her.”

How does Ellen even know him? They’ve never met before. Not here. He kneels across from her, heart clenching at Jo’s body. He’s supposed to be making things better, leaving and destroying the seals is supposed to fix things. Except he guesses he and Dean weren’t here to find Jo this time and Ellen got there too late. “She’s dead, Ellen.”

“So?” she asks fiercely. “Jim was dead. Caleb, that girl, Meg. They were all dead. You brought them back.”

He stares. “How do you know that?”

“Please,” she repeats. “She’s all I have left. Please, Sam. I’ll do anything. I’ll give anything. Just bring her back.”

Sam knows that desperation. He’s felt that desperation, those miserable four months when hell tore his brother apart.

But he doesn’t have the same overfull, burning power he had with the taste of Azazel’s blood in the back of his throat.

Ellen, proud, tough Ellen, has tears down her face and begging him.

She lost her husband because of his father. He can try and save her daughter.

He reaches out, gripping the back of Ellen’s neck, and pulls her towards him. She opens his mouth for him, kissing him back without hesitation. He bites her tongue, blood hot and salty, and she doesn’t so much as flinch, doesn’t pause, just holds Jo between them and lets Sam take.

When he pulls back, his mouth is full of blood. He leans down, pressing his lips to Jo’s, letting her mother’s blood slide between her lips and presses his hand against her chest, trying to quicken something in her that will bring her home.

She gasps under him and he pulls back. Her eyes dart around, cheeks flushed, and stutters, “What – who–”

Ellen lets out a sob and clutches Jo to her, letting out a choked litany of scolding that has Jo patting her back and making soothing noises that Sam doubts Ellen hears at all.

He sits back on his ass, rubbing a hand over his face and wondering if anyone will care if he just lays down and takes a nap. Resurrection is exhausting.

“How?” Ellen asks, looking at him with red eyes and a puffy face and so much gratitude he can barely stand it. “There’s nothing special about my blood.”

“There’s power in sacrifice,” he says, wincing at the roughness of his voice. “Not a lot. Not enough. But,” he shrugs. He’s spent a lifetime making something out of not enough.

“What did I sacrifice?” she asks. It’s curiosity, nothing more. He can tell that she doesn’t care about the answer, that it really good be anything ant it would still be a bargain well made as far as she’s concerned.

This is how apocalypses are started.

“Nothing I’m going to collect on,” he says tiredly. “But it’s not a trick that works more than once. So be careful, okay?”

That last bit he directs to Jo, who’s just staring at him with huge eyes. “You’re Sam?”

“Yeah,” he says. “How do you know who I am?”

Jo and Ellen share a look, then she says carefully, “I met your brother.”

“How is he?” he asks, almost before she’s finished speaking. “Is he – I mean,” he cuts himself off, grimacing. Sam made out with their possessed father, killed the demon, and left. It’s a real toss up about what messed him up the most. “You shouldn’t hunt on your own,” he says, switching tracks. “You need a partner, one who can show you the ropes if you’re going to keep this up. See if you can talk Dean into it. I think you two will get along.”

Jo swallows. “Uh, okay. You’re not what I expected.”

What had she expected? He’s sure the rumors about him are nothing good, if not outright setting a bounty on his head. Ellen might have been desperate enough to seek him out with Jo dead, but that doesn’t mean anything. He and Dean both ran to demons when they lost the other.

There are footsteps down the hall and he tries to muster a smile for them before he’s leaving, returning to the motel room he’d been in with Cas.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Getting back here had taken the last bit of energy he had. He flips Cas off and collapses face first into the bed, barely managing to kick of his shoes before he falls asleep.

Dean would have taken them off for him, but Dean isn’t here.

~

When he wakes up twelve hours later, it’s to Cas standing above him and staring.

He groans, rolling over and away from that piercing blue gaze. “Don’t do that.”

“Where did you go?” he asks.

Sam tells him. It doesn’t take long, but his voice is still strained by the end of it.

“You heard her prayers?” Cas asks.

“No,” he says, then frowns. “I don’t know. I guess. Can I do that?”

Cas is learning human expressions one by one. Judgement had come quickly and easily.

Whatever. Apparently he can do that now.

“You said Azazel was a prince of hell,” Sam says. “Does that mean there are more of them?”

“Three,” he says warily. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Think they’d be willing to part with some blood in exchange for their lives?”

Sam’s not going to survive this. He knew that from beginning. It doesn’t really matter he has to do to himself to finish it.

There’s power in sacrifice.

“This is a terrible idea,” Cas says, which isn’t a no.

Apocalypse Never

They help Dad into the cabin, more coherent than he was when they first broke him out, and Sam heads back to the car for their bags, for the Colt, and tries not to think about how everything has gone so quickly to shit. Mom and Jessica’s killer got away, again, but they’re all alive. That’s not nothing, that’s –

The pain hits him so completely and suddenly that he has no chance to brace himself for it. Usually it builds, first prickling pain then greater, but this is something else. It feels like nails are being shoved into his skull, images coming almost too fast for him to follow. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming until it stops, until he comes to with his head in his brother’s lap, Dean’s arms pinning him down and his face white and terrified above him. “Sammy? Sammy, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong?”

His throat is too raw and tight to speak even if he wanted to. He does want to, but he can’t, he can’t say a goddamn thing.

I saved the world for you, he thinks wildly, and I didn’t even get to keep you. How fucked up is that?

~

He doesn’t know if his future self couldn’t send it all back any further, or if he thought that this would give Sam less time to fuck things up.

For a couple terrifying minutes, Sam had taken control of Lucifer. For a couple exhilarating minutes, Sam had the power of an archangel.

That sending the knowledge of the future back four years in the past was the best thing he could think to do with it leaves Sam with a poor opinion of the man he became. Then again, he had saved the world, so. There’s that.

He doesn’t want to think of the him that had fallen into the pit with Lucifer and Michael. He hopes he can save him by making different choices, but maybe he can’t. Alternate universes, or parallel ones, or whatever. Maybe that Sam is damned for good and the best he could do was save a different version of himself, a different version of his brother.

There’s not much point in wondering about it. He’ll never know either way.

It’s memories with no emotions, thank fuck, because just the knowledge of it all is enough to drive him to his knees, to edge him to weeping and whimpering and slitting his wrists if he lets it.

He’s not going to. He has work to do. There will be time to fall apart after, when the world is safe. When Dean is safe.

Dean after Dad had died and given him that ultimatum had been bad enough. Dean after forty years in hell had been nearly unrecognizable.

He wipes the blood from his face, ushers Dean back inside, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do.

Dean figures out it’s Azazel in Dad’s body and they’re pinned to the wall and Sam waits until Azazel is hovering over him, hand next to his head as he tilts his head back and breathes over Sam’s lips. It’s a torture and a powerplay, to let the want in his eyes come out in his father’s face, to make it John’s body that’s pressed so nauseatingly close to his own.

Sam isn’t the same person he was four years ago, ten minutes ago.

Breaking out of Azazel’s hold is easy. He’s using the equivalent of a single finger to keep them down, like pinning down a butterfly, and it's only enough until it isn’t.

He grabs Azazel’s face and pulls him close, hears the beginning of his laughter before Sam seals their mouths together. He’s making a deal here, selling his soul sure as anything, just not with Azazel.

Azazel leans into it, just like Sam knew he would, shoving his tongue in Sam’s mouth and getting off at his instinctive flinch of disgust, of the way Dean’s screaming bloody murder behind him. Azazel hasn’t hurt Dean yet. Sam’s going to make sure he never will.

He bites down hard. Blood fills his mouth and he sucks on his tongue, drinking as much as he can. It doesn't tase like iron, not like it should, instead it's sweet and thick like honey. He thought Azazel would pull back now, but he’s still laughing into Sam’s mouth, even bites the inside of his cheek to add to the blood from his tongue, and he just lets Sam drink his fill. Of course, he doesn’t know what Sam knows. If Sam had done this the first time, the only thing the blood would have done would be to get him high and useless.

It means he gets more than a mouthful, that it’s long minutes of keeping his eyes closed and swallowing and trying not to think too hard about how it’s Dad’s hands on him and Dad’s hard on at his thigh and Dad’s tongue he’s sucking on. He’s already got four years’ worth of nightmares in his head. No need to add more than necessary.

His skin is buzzing, feeling stretched out over him like his body is too big for it suddenly, almost like the aches of growing pains but more electric. Azazel pulls back and licks up the side of his face, leaving blood and spit behind, and breathes into his ear, “If you missed me feeding you, boy, all you had to do was ask.”

Yeah, that’s enough of that.

He shoves Azazel back without moving his hands, hard enough that he stumbles, and he has to move fast, before he gets a smart idea like snapping Dad’s neck or bursting his heart. He raises his hand and he’d settle for an exorcism, but power is lying heavy and thick in his veins. Destroying Lilith nearly killed him and Azazel is more powerful than Lilith and the blood he drank shouldn’t be nearly enough.

But fear sparks in Azazel’s yellow eyes and he starts choking, black smoke leaking from his ears and out his mouth. “How-”

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He remembers killing Samhain, killing Alastair, killing Lilith. He knows what to do.

Azazel dies screaming. Mom and Jessica are avenged. It’s not as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

Dad is on his hands and knees, taking in deep lungfuls of air. Sam knows from experience that being possessed isn’t pleasant.

“Sammy?”

He forces himself to look over, sees his brother approaching him with hands outstretched. The fear hasn’t gone anywhere even with Azazel dead, even with Dad alive, even though he doesn’t have any of the devastating injuries he sustained last time.

He doesn’t have the emotions to go along with the memory of the first time Dean saw him drinking demon blood, but he imagines it was something like this. “I’m sorry.”

“Sammy,” Dean says again, but Dad’s getting to his feet, Dad’s looking at the Colt, and Sam can’t die yet. He still has work to do.

It’s not a conscious thought, not something he actively tries to do, it’s just one minute he’s there in a cabin with his father and brother and the next he’s in the middle of a field, the night air crisp and clear and a million stars shining above him.

He couldn’t do that before.

There’s something wrong, he thinks, because he doesn’t remember what drinking demon blood felt like, but he remembers describing it, and this isn’t right. He should be drained after that, should feel almost normal again, but instead it’s like there are bees pinging around inside him, like there’s molten lava in his veins, like he’s dying.

He’s dying, he realizes suddenly, the power threatening to eat him alive. He looks down at his arms, like he’s expecting to see them crisping up beneath moonlight, but they look normal, like skin. Of course it’s not killing him, no matter what it feels like. He’s Lucifer’s perfect vessel. There’s no power his body can’t contain, none except God’s, maybe, and it looks like he’s long past making house calls.

It won’t kill him, but it hurts like hell, and he can’t think, he needs to burn it off somehow. He’s never had this problem before, not even when he drank all that blood for Lucifer.

He’s standing in Bobby’s living room and he doesn’t understand why until he sees the body on his kitchen table wrapped in a white sheet. He doesn’t know how Bobby got rid of the paramedics, if he’s maybe holding the body for her family, but Sam thinks he knows how to get rid of some of the itching along his skin.

Sam died a lot, in those weeks he and Dean were apart. Lucifer was true to his word. Sam came back every time.

He pulls down the sheet, sees the ways Meg’s face has settled into death in the past day, how decay has started to take hold and left her blue and cold and her skin slack. He leans down, presses a kiss to her cheek, and thinks that this is the least he owes her, for what she endured because of him, for trying to help him even at the bitter end.

She gasps to life beneath him, warmth flooding her skin and air stuttering into her lungs. “Sam?” she asks, fear and confusion and a pain that’s not physical.

Maybe she won’t want to live, considering everything she’s been through, but at least now the choice is hers and not a demon’s. There are footsteps and he turns to see Bobby standing in the doorway, gun pointed to the ground and mouth open in shock. Sam doesn’t have time to worry about it, instead he’s gone, the same burning still clawing its way out of his bones.

Caleb lies slumped in the chair Meg had tied him to, throat slit and eyes empty. Sam puts his hands on his shoulders, presses his lips to his bald head, and feels the moment his heart starts beating again. He sends the ropes falling with barely a thought and he’s gone the moment he hears his first confused groan.

Pastor Jim is laid out in his home, church workers Sam vaguely recognize huddled around him in prayer, his final send off. He’s just glad he got here before they burned him. They start screaming when they see him but he leans down, internally wincing at how Jim’s going to explain his way out of this one, and kisses his forehead, a reversal of the paternal tenderness Jim had shown him as a child.

His chest rises and his eyes open and his eyebrows push together. “Sam, what-“

He doesn’t stick around to hear the end of that question, figures it’s not anything he can answer anyway.

It takes him a long moment of staring out at the snow covered peaks and too close sky and the brilliant sun hitting his face even though it was just the middle of the night for him to place himself, even though it shouldn’t be enough, but he knows where he is even though he shouldn’t.

The air’s too thin and he’s going to give himself altitude sickness if he lingers and he should probably be freezing to death but his blood is still running too hot. Not burning, not like it was before he brought three people back from the dead, but still far from comfortable.

Still. He can’t say he ever thought he’d ever get to see the view from Mt. Everest.

“Castiel,” he says. “It’s Sam Winchester. We need to talk.”

Nothing. Typical.

“I know about God’s plan, about Lucifer and Michael, about my role as his vessel. I know about you, Cas. You’re going to want to hear me out.”

There’s the rustle of wings behind him and he turns to see Cas, younger than he looked before. Jimmy Novak younger than he’d been before. He wonders about that for a moment. He’d half expected Cas to show up as a sherpa rather than nip to America for a vessel, but Cas had kept the shape of Jimmy Novak even after his physical body perished, so maybe there’s a deeper preference there than just convenience.

His face is as cold as their surroundings. “You have strayed from God’s light.”

“Yeah, well, what good has he ever done me?” he asks tiredly. He used to believe. He believed yesterday. He prayed this morning. Even when he met Cas the first time, he believed. “I can’t explain. Can you just read my mind? We don’t have time.”

His eyebrows push together, but Cas has to be curious, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He steps forward and presses two fingers against Sam’s forehead. He doesn’t feel any different, but when Cas lowers his hand, he’s lost his stoicism. Shock, despair, and anger chase themselves across his feature and Sam can’t blame him.

He’s not the only who lost his faith in the future.

“You said there were thousands of seals,” he says. “How many exactly?”

His eyes snap to Sam’s. “What?”

“God loved Lucifer,” he says. “It’s why he imprisoned him rather than destroying him. It’s why he left him a way out. Maybe it’s why he set up the apocalypse in the first place. I don’t know, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not letting him out, ever. So we’re going to destroy every seal we can.”

Some can’t be undone, like the first one, a righteous man torturing an innocent soul in hell. But there are plenty that can, hopefully enough, hopefully most. If there are less than sixty six seals available, then Lucifer is never getting out of his cage.

“There were originally ten thousand seals,” Cas answers and Sam gets lightheaded for reasons that have nothing to do with thin air. “Only two thousand and thirty four seals are still viable.”

Okay, that’s better. Not great, but better. “Let’s get that number down to sixty five.”

“You are different,” Cas says.

Of course he’s different. His father’s alive. His brother never went to hell. Sam has never known the utter desolation of being completely alone, of grief and guilt so heavy he’s surprised it didn’t break his spine as surely as Jake’s knife in his back. He doesn’t actually remember feeling it, which is no small mercy, but he saw the effects of living with it, which is almost as bed. He'd thought what he’s feeling because of Jessica is as low as he could get. It’s not even close.

He wants to dig up her bones and breathe life into them, but at almost a year dead he thinks that’s beyond even this strange new power. Even like this, he’s failing Jessica one more time.

“Got any ideas?” he asks. “It wasn’t like this before. With the blood.”

He’d drank Ruby nearly dry more than once. It had been a high and then a crash and never did it give him access to this type of power.

“Azazel is – was a prince of hell,” Cas answers.

Sam frowns. “I thought he was king?”

“He was regent,” he corrects, “but to be a prince is separate from being ruler of hell. Lucifer created Lilith from bone, as Adam and Eve were made. The princes were created from his blood. Azazel’s blood is, in a way, Lucifer’s.”

Lucifer’s blood. Sam, his vessel, drinking down Lucifer’s blood, as a baby and now. Except as a baby he’d only had a few drops. He’d consumed a lot more than that back at the cabin.

Demon blood always wore off. The few drops of Azazel’s blood he’d gotten as a baby never had. He probably should have taken that into consideration, but there hadn’t been any time.

“Lucifer is evil but he is not a demon,” Cas continues.

Sam realizes suddenly that he did have power like this once. When he locked away Lucifer inside of him and took his power for his own. It’s not the same, not even close, but it’s similar. “This is what angel blood does?”

“No,” he says. “This is what Archangel Lucifer’s blood does to his perfect vessel. I believe. This has never happened before, so I cannot be certain. You are, as always, one of kind, Sam Winchester.”

It’s not quite a compliment, but it’s not as combative as he remembers Castiel being in the beginning. He’ll take it. “Guess we’ll figure it out together, then. If you’re sticking around to help prevent the apocalypse.”

If he’s not, this is going to be more than difficult. Tracking down all the seals without an angel on his side isn’t going to be impossible, but pretty damn close. And he doesn’t know how much time he has. Hell is going to be pissed about him killing Azazel. Heaven is probably going to take notice once he starts destroying seals so they can never be opened. Not to mention, he’s definitely going to be on hunters’ radar. Even if Dad can keep his mouth shut about him drinking demon blood, which he knows better than to rely on, him bringing back people from the dead is going to spread quickly. He’s going to be hunted at all sides, just like last time.

At least last time he had Dean, even broken, even when he was broken himself. He still had his brother.

But this is the price for saving him. For making sure that Dean is never in the position to kick off the apocalypse in the first place, to make it so Lucifer never again walks the earth even if heaven and hell reincarnate him and Dean and try and start this all over again.

He’s going to be killed for it, he knows, by demons or angels or hunters. But that doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things.

“Yes,” Cas says. “It is better for us all if the future you saw never comes to pass. I will help you.”

He grins, clapping Cas on the shoulder, and only laughs at the glare he receives in return. They have to get out of here before the altitude makes him loopy. Maybe it already has.

He’s going to save the world for his brother and he’s not even going to get to keep him.

How fucked up is that?

[trinlovessoobin]

unintentional

{wonwoo x fem! y/n}

quick description: friends to lovers. you and wonwoo both get accepted into the same collage. you both have been friends for a long time and decide to room together for collage after wonwoo gets a girlfriend he starts ignoring you, but why?

word count 5.1k

18+

[warning of content] smut, jerking off, self pleasure, drinking, oral sex, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, princess) profanity, creampie.

College dorms were a topic you didn’t want to talk about. You hated the idea of them having to share a room with a stranger?? When you got accepted into your dream college there was no way you could afford to rent a place without facing the same problem….strangers, that was until your best friend Wonwoo got accepted too. You and him have been friends since middle school he was the quiet lid and you were a nerd but you saw his Pokémon backpack and immediately knew you needed to be his friend. You both decided to take a gap year before going to college, you didn’t have financial help from your parents so you worked hard.

After jumping up and down with excitement when he told you he had been accepted too the idea sparked that maybe you won’t have to live with a stranger he wasn’t too sure about the idea since he was unemployed but that could change! And you knew his social anxiety was bad, almost worse than yours.

“A one-bedroom apartment would be the cheapest, one of us could take the bedroom and we can turn the living room into a bedroom and if we both get jobs within walking distance of the university we could take the bus to school and walk to work I believe that this is a perfectly thought out plan that would work in both of our favors. Wonwoo please please please”

Wonwoo was very smart like smart so he did the math on if this would work and we wouldn’t drown in debt lucky for you it would be cutting it close with groceries and extra spending money but it can work. You held in your pure excitement and whipped out your laptop to look at apartments.

“hey y/n. This one looks like what you were looking for except better it has a loft and a bedroom so we would still have a living room the loft goes above the kitchen, and the kitchen looks pretty nice too, not that you would be cooking since you’re terrible at it”

You punch him in the arm and take the laptop to look at the price.

“Hey, this is lower than our max price too!! Did you look at the surrounding shops or any place that would hire college students?”

Wonwoo takes back the laptop and adjusts his glasses while looking on Google Maps at the surrounding buildings.

“There are a few restaurants a tea shop and what looks like a coffee and bake shop”

“Bro they’re gonna so want me with my espresso experience, maybe they’ll hire you too! but I don’t know if I want to live and work with you that might be too much for me I might O.D from too much Wonwoo y-know?”

He gives you a side eye that sends a chill down your spine

“or we could work together because I could never get enough of you”

You give him a sarcastic smile.

“anyways… we should start saving now you have the money from your parents and I’ve been saving from work lets send an application for the apartment”

You both send in a few more applications for other places as well a month goes by you receive emails for the confirmation of tours Wonwoo goes to half while you go to the others in the end you both fall in love with the first apartment you look at the one with the loft and a bedroom it was so cheap and perfect up in the loft there was a whole wall of outlets so Wonwoo takes the loft for his gaming set up (thank god because you wanted your full privacy the loft was cute but the open walls made it feel too out in the open)

Time flew by and just like that you both were moving in together, you were a little nervous since you hear horror stories about friendships being ruined while moving in together where the two end up hating each other from seeing them so much but you had a feeling that wouldn’t happen Wonwoo and you both liked your alone time with the two separate rooms and getting jobs at separate places things seemed to be looking perfect you worked at the cafe and Wonwoo is working as a waiter for a nicer restaurant he has to take the bus but it pays well so it’s worth the journey.

———————————————————————

“Wonwoo please can we host a housewarming party it doesn’t even have to be a lot of people just my close friends and your close friends more of a get-together than a party. I KNOW that Jeonghan has been dying to see this place since we moved in and since we’re all unpacked and-“

Wonwoo cuts you off.

“forget it y/n you know how I hate social gatherings. Jeonghan can come over eventually, we don’t need a bunch of people in our apartment to trash the place and make our neighbors hate us right away”

You cross your arms and pout, but after seeing that stern look on your arms pull your victim card.

“I was going to invite my girls anyway because I miss them. I was offering the party so you would have your friends too. I was just trying to be nice so you wouldn’t feel awkward I know you don’t talk to them. But when they come over we can just be in my room and not disturb you it’s okay”

Wonwoo huffs and pinches his nose bridge.

“fine”

You start jittering with excitement.

“thank you thank you thank you. I’m gonna text the girls.”

———————————————————————

The morning of the party you and Wonwoo went to the store you get alcohol he turned 21 a few months ago and you were turning 21 soon but you weren’t there yet so he had to go in alone but you gave him a list.

1. 2x bottles of pink Whitney

2. 3x packs of mikes hard lemonade

3. 1x bottle of Smirnoff vodka (raspberry)

While he was getting the alcohol you went to the grocery store for snacks and cups.

When everyone was there you and Wonwoo gave them a very professional tour it was very short since the apartment is very small. But made things easier for you two. You all start playing drinking games when you hear a knock on the door, you open it to see DK one of Wonwoo’s friends he is late but he is also holding two bags full of Chinese take-out.

“dk you are an angel sent from heaven”

“sorry for being late, thought I’d bring some food”

He said with a big smile while walking in.

After lots of eating and lots of drinking DK and Jeonghan went home, Mingyu stayed over, they played video games up in his loft and you and your friends all went to your room. Soyeon and Yuqi get comfortable on the floor while you and Yeji decide to share your bed it was a queen so there was more than enough room.

“hey y/n”

You hear Yuqi say from the floor.

“what’s up?”

“don’t you think it’s a little weird moving in with a boy? I mean I know you guys are just friends but at the end of the day you are a straight single woman and he’s a straight single man who knows when animal instincts kick in” They all start giggling at her comment.

“oh my god I can’t even think about doing something like that with him, I've known him for so long his this gamer nerd and I'm positive he sees me as a geek”

You turn over so your back faces them giving off the ‘im done with this conversation’ energy but Yeji had a comment.

“yeah except you’re both hot now”

“Yeji oh my god you did not just call Wonwoo hot”

“he is though!? Girl are you blind???”

“I’m going to bed goodnight, no more of this stupid talk”

The next morning all the girls went home super early you slept in a little but woke up to the smell of food, your nose followed you to the kitchen and found two tall tan beefy shirtless men in your kitchen cooking.

“what the fuck?”

They turn around and it’s Mingyu and Wonwoo, you knew Mingyu was buff because he’s constantly showing it off with his muscle tee’s and tank tops but you swear Wonwoo lives in hoodies and crewnecks it’s like they’re attached to him.

“oh good morning y/n”

Mingyu says with a smile. Wonwoo looks a little shocked to see you like he knows you’ve never seen him like this, like he’s been hiding he even gets a little flustered looking away and back to the food, Mingyu walks over to you.

“sleep well? We’re making breakfast do you want some?”

“oh um yeah I slept good and breakfast sounds great, thank you”

Mingyu was standing very close to you but you never felt intimidated by him his eyes are just so soft and it’s like there’s an imaginary tail wagging behind him at all times.

You went and sat on the couch and saw Wonwoo walk up to his loft and come back down fully clothed he was embarrassed you couldn’t help but wonder why he would be though like if you have a body like that show it off!! When Mingyu brought you over breakfast you paused him from leaving.

“hey wait, do you and Wonwoo go to the gym together or something? Because how come I had no idea he was built? I did notice that when I punch his arm when he's pissing me off it does hurt my fist but I didn’t think anything of it”

“oh yeah! We go all the time. He didn’t tell you?”

“no…. he didn’t. This whole time I thought he was a bit chubby. Like not in a bad way in a cute way but not in a cute way like like him yk but kind of endearing I guess?? That’s not the point he’s always wearing those oversized hoodies and sweats how was I supposed to know?? He was a chubby kid too”

Mingyu suppresses his laughter and walks back to the kitchen.

You can’t help but still stare at Wonwoo, for so long you had no idea he had been going to the gym, his back was so perfectly sculpted and when he turned around his abs were so defined, it was just so shocking.

———————————————————————

When school started you and Wonwoo barely saw each other, you’re classes started early and he went late and on the weekends you both worked, sometimes you would see each other in passing but it was always just a small “hey” or “how are you” never an actual conversation. You were just about to leave for work when Wonwoo came down from his loft, you didn’t even know he was home.

“hey Wonwoo, we should go get dinner i haven’t been able to talk to you in so long, like I live with you, I go to school with you, but I never see you. I miss you”

“oh. yeah, I can look at my schedule probably not till next week I have a date for my one day off this week”

“a date? You have a date!!?”

“is it that surprising y/n?”

“n-no of course not I mean-, I’m just hurt you didn’t tell me sooner”

“well I’m telling you now”

“I guess, just text me when you have a day we’ll figure it out”

It makes sense that Wonwoo has a date he’s sweet, respectful, and surprisingly built. I don’t know why I'm upset about this date that he has. You dated a guy in high school for a while maybe it’s because he’s never dated anyone or maybe he has and just didn’t tell you would have even told me if it wasn’t for today?? “fuck why am I so upset.”

You and Wonwoo never ended up having that dinner, your schedules never aligned and he ended up going on more dates with that girl he even asked you to spend the night at a friend's so he could bring her home!? if you weren’t pissed about this before you’re pissed now. When you came home she was still over.

“oh sorry, I thought you’d be gone by now, I’m y/n”

She was pretty. You take your time examining her, she is shorter than you, slimmer too.

“oh my god, Wonwoo told me about you! You’re so pretty and tall. I would hug you but sorry I'm a little sweaty right now”

You stare at her in shock, why is she sweaty!? Wonwoo walks in wearing a muscle tee and sweats.

“oh hey y/n we just got back from the gym”

Oh, thank god. Wait they’re close enough to be going to the gym together? You and Wonwoo never go to the gym together.

Another month went by without seeing Wonwoo he was completely occupied with her. until he out of nowhere Wonwoo started staying home doing nothing but eat sleep and games, your winter break was coming up and you hadn’t talked about going home in fact you still haven’t talked at all even though he’s home all the time now.

It was a Saturday night both of you were off work it was fairly late and you were pacing your room “I’m tired of his silent treatment I'm gonna go talk to him” You storm out of your room and climb up to the loft, there he was in his gaming chair like always.

“Wonwoo”

He doesn’t answer.

“Wonwoo!!”

Still, no answer so you walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder he jumps a little under your touch, so he doesn’t hear you…he takes off his headphones and pauses his game.

“what’s up y/n?”

He looks up at you completely blank-minded.

“Are you serious right now”

“huh?”

“Wonwoo what is wrong with you, we live together, we go to school together, but I haven’t seen you in months did something happen and where did your girlfriend go i mean you were with her all the time so that was a good excuse for not seeing me but now there’s no excuse you’re just avoiding me”

You feel like you are about to cry his emotionless face while you’re expressing your feelings to him and all he does is just look at you.

“well say something Wonwoo don’t just stare at me”

He stands up out of his chair and moves over to his bed and takes a deep breath,

“I’m sorry y/n”

The apology was unexpected.

“the girl I was seeing…… she uh cheated on me so that’s why she’s not around anymore”

He puts his head down like he cannot look you in the eyes while saying this, you cannot believe she cheated on him.

“Wonwoo-“

He cuts you off.

“Please don’t feel bad, please. That’s why I didn’t say anything, I feel like it was my fault like I didn’t give her enough I didn’t satisfy her”

You crouch done onto your knees in front of him so you can look him in the eyes.

“Wonwoo don’t say that you’re so much better than any man I’ve ever met you’re kind, respectful, loyal, and fuck you are hot okay. So don’t you ever doubt yourself because any girl you’re with is lucky to have you she just doesn’t see that”

He looks at you his, eyes glossy. You place your hand on his cheek

“you’re wrong,” he says a tear streaming down his cheek.

“What?”

“you’re wrong, I wasn’t giving her my all when my mind was on another girl”

You take your hands off of his face taken back.

“oh” is all you manage to say.

“fuck, y/n I can explain”

“it’s fine you don’t need to you have your feelings I mean she still cheated on you that’s her fault, she could have talked to you about her emotions instead of going out and fucking some guy… so um who’s the girl who owns your heart.”

Wonwoo holds his breath you can tell he’s thinking hard and thinking for a while.

“I- it’s unimportant”

“Wonwoo you need to talk to me more you keep pushing me away. We’ve been friends forever i know you’re not the most comfortable all the time with me but you’ve always been able to tell me if something’s wrong, that’s why I’m here”

Wonwoo stands up off the bed.

“I can’t tell you this”

He tries to walk away but you grab ahold of his leg and wrap your arms and legs around his leg to hold him in place

“NO!!”

“y/n what are you doing”

“I’m not going to let you ignore me anymore i can’t we haven’t talked in months i won’t let you get away from me I won't let you shut me out again”

“This isn’t about that I'm not shutting you out i just can’t tell you this”

Wonwoo tries to get away from you grunting and struggling and dragging you while you still latched onto his leg. he try’s to take your hands off of his leg but he trips and falls over you, you lay beneath him his hands on opposite sides of you, you notice how flustered he gets and heavy his breath is you look at him in the eyes looking back and forth between each eye you two are so close you’ve never been this close to him you can see each line on his skin. You wrap your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist clinging to him like a monkey.

“you’re insane what are you doing?”

“I’m not letting go till you tell me.

“fuck.”

“why is it so hard for you to open up” your voice is muffled since your face is pushed into his arm from clinging to him.

“I’ll tell you if you let go I can’t think the way you latched onto me”

“promise you won’t run away”

“Promise”

You let go and you’re beneath him again so you move out from under him and lean against the bed and he sits on the floor cris-crossed.

“so who is she? Is it someone I know? Is that why it’s so hard I promise I won't tell”

“y/n you’re so stupid”

“well that’s rude”

He bites his bottom lip and just stares at you.

“y/n… I like you, now please don’t say anything that you don’t mean because I’m only telling you since you’re relentless for an answer I couldn’t lie, I know you don’t feel the same way and our friendship means so much to me truly”

You were shocked, this was the last thing you thought he was gonna say, but you were confused you’d never thought about him like that but every time he was with that girl you were jealous and it made you think. He is an amazing person and he is everything you look for in a man… so why not him?

“okay but at least say something because now I’m nervous”

“I don’t know what to say Wonwoo. I love you I do, I've just never thought about being anything more than friends, it’s so cliché girls and guys can’t be friends i was always so focused on beating the stereotypes. But when you were with her I admit I was jealous. She got to see you in ways I’ve never seen you, she was taking you from me. But again that could be only platonic for me. I’m a little confused right now I need to think okay?”

You stand up and he stands up too, you give him a small hug then walk away. You go to your room to think. You stay up super late just thinking and thinking and thinking. And think some more you try and picture yourself with him what would it be like? Going on dates, holding hands, kissing… your face gets flushed just thinking about him in that way. You think about doing more things with him what it would feel like to have your bodies together warm and sweaty in dark rooms, how he would touch you how his large frame would tower over you. Turns you on just thinking about him like that. You lock your door and crawl into bed pulling down your pj shorts and underwear circling your clit, you were so wet just thinking about him you place two of your fingers into yourself imagining him hey we’re Wonwoos imagining his large dominant hands you let out a moan without even realizing. If just thinking about him got you off this much you were sure you liked him more than just a friend. You needed him.

———————————————————————

It was the last week of school before winter break and so you were both cramming for exams you didn’t see each other till Friday night. He was in the kitchen making ramen when you got home he noticed you and smiled.

“want some?”

“yeah that would be great I’m starving”

You both eat in silence the only noise being the clinking of the chopsticks against the bowels. Till you clear your throat when you are finished.

“so, how were your finals?”

Wonwoo says breaking the silence.

“stressful but I think I did well”

“that’s good i think I did okay, so um we never talked about the break do we want to go home?”

“I was going to go down the 23rd wait a bit, what were you thinking?”

It was strange being able to talk to him so normally after your last talk together you wanted to tell him so bad how you felt but you were scared what if the relationship doesn’t last will you be able to go back to how it used to be? You’re more than just friends now you live together. A breakup could ruin everything.

“y/n. you look lost in thought you didn’t answer my question”

“oh! Right, I was planning on going down the 21st, are you finished with your bowl?”

“yeah I'm done”

You take your bowl and his and walk over to the sink to wash them the room grows awkward the sense of waiting is present you can tell he is waiting for your answer. You finished washing the bowls and put them to the side, let out a small sign and turned around to face him.

“Wonwoo.”

“hmm?”

“I didn’t have to think too hard about my feelings for you, they were clear that I like you, you’re everything I’ve ever looked for in a man and more you’ve always been by my side but my only worry is this, how close we are right now. You’re my best friend, we’ve gone through so much together and I would never want to ruin what we have. We live together for fuck sake.”

All he does is grin and walk over to you.

“you like me?”

“didn’t you hear the rest of what I said this is something we need to seriously think about”

He walks closer to you and puts his hands on your waist.

“I’ve thought about it. Many times, all the time”

He slowly walks you to the back of the counter hands still on your waist. You’re heart is pounding his eyes are stern not his usual soft doe eyes they’re cat-like and focused you’ve never seen him like this, it was so hot.

“Wonwoo,” you say in a soft voice you don’t even know why you said his name maybe you weren’t sure if this was real or not.

“yeah?”

You don’t respond you can feel him getting close to you trapping your body beneath him one of his hands move from your waist onto the counter him peering down at you was so intimidating yet you felt safe.

“I want you to say it again but with more meaning, tell me how you feel”

Wonwoo was so close you could feel his breath as he spoke.

“I- Wonwoo I like you a lot”

“yeah?” he says with a smile then leaning in and kissing you softly and pulling away leaving you wanting more.

“you know, the night after our talk I heard this noise it was a little loud I wasn’t sure what it was though so I climbed down my loft and saw you were in your room when I heard the noise again”

His hand moves to the side of your neck grazing your chin with his thumb.

“do you want to tell me what you were doing or who you were thinking about while doing it?”

You bite your lip and look up at him and look away flushed feeling embarrassed.

“aw don’t be embarrassed baby I’m just sad I couldn’t help you. All you could do was think about me when I was just outside your room”

He leans in and whispers.

“your moans are so pretty, I bet they’re prettier when I’m fucking you for real though”

His voice was so deep and smooth it’s never like this it sounded like it was just melting. All you could do was stare at him and listen to him.

“cat caught your tongue?”

He goes into another kiss this time more passionate and possessive his hand still on your waist and the other on your neck his tongue meets your lips asking for permission to enter, and you give it to him. Your tongues intertwining with each other both getting desperate he pulls away and you whine at the sudden stop of contact. he only stops to take off his glasses and put them on the counter beside you then lifts you onto the counter grabbing ahold of your thigh and squeezing while going back into the kiss. You place your hand beneath his shirt and a groan from the back of his throat reacts to your touch. He moves your legs to either side of him so now he’s fully pressed up against you. You tug on his shirt wanting him to take it off, he pulls away again and takes off his shirt. When going back into the kiss he goes to your neck this time leaving soft wet kisses down your neck then takes off your sleep shirt, since it was your sleep shirt you didn’t have a bra on underneath. Wonwoo places his hand on your breast and softly brushes his thumb over your hard sensitive nipple, you moan quietly from his touch.

“so sensitive and we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet”

Both his hands are now on your thighs he strokes them up and down while what looks like he’s thinking.

“my bed? Or your bed?”

You’re still a little out of breath and you think for a moment.

“my bed is closer”

Wonwoo smiles picks you up off the counter and throws you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing and walks into your bedroom gets onto your bed them places you down. You start to take off your shorts when he stops you.

“patience”

Is all he says before leaning down on top of you and kissing you again, your fingers slide into his hair slightly pulling each time he pinches your nipple. he leaves a kiss trail down your neck onto your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. he pulls them off and spreads your legs you suddenly feel very bare. He kisses your folds then slides his index and middle finger into you, a gasp leaves your lips while he slowly pumping them in and out.

“is this what I was doing when you were touching yourself thinking about me?”

“it’s better-“ is all you managed to get out before he picks up his pace fucking you with his fingers.

You notice the bulge in his pants while it slightly rubs against your leg while he continues to do wonders with his fingers, he slightly curls them hitting your G spot and causing you to moan orgasm

“Wonwoo, take off your pants. I want to feel your dick inside me”

He pauses and grins taking his fingers out of you linking them clean and taking off his sweats along with his briefs, it was big and had girth, a drip of pre-cum on his tip, it’s not like you were a virgin you had a boyfriend your last two years of high school but this was different you’ve never wanted it this bad.

He pulls your legs closer to him and teases you, circling his tip around your hole.

“so wet for me princess”

He fully inserts himself into you as before he starts slow, one hand ahold of your leg while the other beside you keeping him up while he towers over you.

“fuck, you feel so good”

He picks up his pace leaning over you burying his face into your neck breathing heavily groaning and curing under his breath every time you pull his hair. he goes even faster thrusting into you, and the sound of moaning, clapping, and bed squeaks filling the room, wonwoo was so desperate for you your body’s were so close they were practically molding together.

“Wonu,” you say in between breaths “I’m close”

“me too princess, where do you want me to cum”

“in me….. I want you to cum in me”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m on the pill, I need you to fill me”

He smiles into your neck and bites down leaving a hickey, thrusting even faster than before a loud moan leaves your mouth as your walls clench around him cumming down his cock, he quickly cums right after you riding out his high fucking the cum right back into you. After pulling out he moves to the side of you, the room is hot and you are both sticky. You both lay on your bed panting.

“you can shower first,” Wonwoo says already standing.

You get up and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out of your bedroom still fully naked and into the bathroom. You could feel his eyes on you until you were completely out of his sight.

The bathroom quickly steams up from the hot water and you hop in and start rinsing off your body, your eyes were closed you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until you felt soapy hands down your back. You jump at first and quickly turn around to face him.

“oh my god Wonwoo you scared me”

After the fear leaves you realize that Wonwoo is in the shower with you Wonwoo is in the shower with you…

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I wasn’t quite done with you yet. I’ve waited so long for this I’m not waisting a second”

He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss this was rougher and more intense he was hungry for you, humming into the kiss, your bodies pressed together and you feel his cock harden and pull away for a moment. Licking your lips you kiss his neck, putting your hands on his hips and walking him to the wall of the shower, you slick your hair back with the water before getting onto your knees in front of him. Kitten licking his tip before pulling your mouth over it you only take a third of him in sucking on his tip and stroking the rest with your hands.

“fuck y/n, you’re so hot”

His comment made you want to please him even more so you take in more of him a little over half bobbing your head slightly sucking, causing him to groan and tilt his head back. So you take even more taking in all of him his tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag, which causes him to groan even louder and grab your hair.

“Jesus fucking Christ y/n if you keep up with that I’m already gonna cum”

And so you do. Taking his full length down your throat, wonwoo holds the back of your hair slightly for support, his head is now fully tilted back against the shower wall you can tell he’s close so you pick up your pace a little bobbing up and down his cock.

“I’m gonna cum” Wonwoo says basically out of breath.

You go back to the third of it being in your mouth and jerk off his high with your hands while his seed spills into your mouth and down your throat. After taking his cock out of your mouth you stick out your tongue to show him that you swallowed, then you stand up keeping eye contact while licking your lips and the corners of your mouth making sure not to miss a single drop of him. You give him a small smile and go back to washing your body and hair while he’s still slightly leaning against the wall panting. He watches you finish showering and step out blowing him a kiss before leaving the bathroom, Wonwoo then finishes up his shower.

Once he finishes up and is all dressed he finds you lying on your stomach in bed on your phone. He jumps in and lays beside you.

“You changed the sheets”

“I had to…”

Wonwoo leans in and kisses you on the cheek.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Wonwoo says wrapping his arms around you.

“If you turn off the lights I'm too lazy”

Wonwoo quickly jumps up, turns off the lights and snuggles under the covers.

“We should go down the 23rd,” you say getting beneath the covers.

“I fully one hundred percent agree,” Wonwoo says hugging you tightly.

“Goodnight Wonwoo.”

“Goodnight y/n”

—————————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this and out a lot of time into it so I hope you enjoy 💟

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1, 2, & 3

Chapter 4: New Life

You had come to terms with the fact that you'd never escape Paige. Memories of everything that involved her had begun flooding back over the past few days, piece by piece. But no one had to know—not even your dad. You just wanted to start fresh. And Paige? She was long gone from your life.

You were deep cleaning your room when your dad came in, his face serious. "Can we talk for a minute?"

You paused, wiping your hands on the towel. "Sure."

"So," he started, clearly hesitant, "I was thinking… maybe it's time for you to go back to school."

You froze, the towel dropping to the floor. "You're sending me back to New York?"

"No, honey," he said, his tone softening. "You're going to attend UConn. Is that okay with you? You can do some research if you want, so you’ll have an idea about the school." He continued, but you were already zoned out the moment he mentioned UConn. Only one thing came to mind.

Paige Madison Bueckers. Women's Basketball Star Athlete. UConn. You think maybe your dad is doing it on purpose, but then he doesn’t know that you remember Paige now. Or maybe it’s God, punishing you for lying to him.

You swallowed hard, trying to hide your reaction. "Yeah, sure. I mean… new scenery won’t hurt, right?"

Your dad looked relieved. "Great. I was worried you might not like the idea, but I already processed all your documents with the university. You’re scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow."

You nodded, your stomach twisting as the words hung in the air. What else could you say? You had no choice.

The day arrived. The University of Connecticut was not a stranger to you. But your dad had no idea. You’d been there once before, and just the thought of it made you grimace.

The first time you went was when Paige was in her second year. She kept insinuating how cool it would be if you showed up to one of her games, so you planned to surprise her by booking a plane ticket. You didn’t tell anyone, not even your parents in New York. It was mid-year, and you had classes the next day, so you’d need to return soon. You went to UConn to surprise Paige, but instead, you were the one who ended up surprised.

Before entering the Gampel Pavilion, you overheard murmurs about Paige being in a relationship with one of her teammates. At first, you couldn’t believe it. You were her best friend! She didn’t even think to tell you? You went inside anyway, determined to see her, but when you saw Paige with that girl from her team, your world came crashing down. The closeness between them was undeniable—different from the rest. You couldn't stop imagining yourself in that girl’s place, talking to Paige, her smiling, tapping your cheek just like old times. And that’s when it hit you. You weren't supposed to be the one in her life anymore.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. The woman sitting next to you looked at you with confusion, but you couldn’t care. You stood up, running out of the arena, your heart breaking with each step.

After that, everything changed. You realized what you wanted—what you had always wanted and more. But by then, it was too late.

Paige has no idea what happened to you. Later that night, she texted you, informing you about her game. But you just couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. You turned bitter, but you also had no courage to actually tell her anything. Every conversation with her turned into arguments because Paige isn't telling you anything and keeps pretending like she doesn't have a girl waiting for her on the other side of the line. Or maybe they were together, you thought. You're always mad, so is she, because she keeps saying she can't understand you anymore. So you stopped trying.

Days passed, months, then a year. You heard nothing from her. Just the occasional glimpse of her life through social media, and you could see she was happy. Still with that girl. She completely forgot about you.

Then came the injury. You learned about it from the news, and you immediately went to your contacts, your finger hovering above her name, then pressed call.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end wasn’t Paige’s. It was sweet, warm, but unfamiliar.

"Hi, is Paige there? I just wanted to know if she’s okay? I’m her—"

"Ah, yes. Paige is fine," the voice cut you off. "But it’s best for her to rest right now. It’s been a long day. I got her, no need for you to be concerned."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Who’s this?"

"This is Azzi." Oh. Azzi as in the teammate number 35? The one rumored to be more than just a teammate. Your heart sank, but you didn’t press further. Paige was okay, that’s all that mattered. Even if your heart was breaking all over again.

Days passed. Paige sent you messages every now and then, but you never replied.

Hey, how are you? So, I happened to tear my ACL in case you didn’t know. Hey. Aren’t you gonna check in on me? I miss you. What happened to us?

You saw them all, each one digging deeper into the ache in your chest. But you remembered Azzi’s words. Paige was happy with her. So why would she need you?

"Excuse me." You snapped out of your thoughts, realizing your mood had shifted into something darker. It was your first day at school, and you didn’t want to carry this weight with you.

You turned, startled, and found a guy standing there, waiting for your attention. "Yes?" you replied, trying to shake off the sadness.

"Are you the transferee? I'm Luke, from the student council. I was tasked to be your guide for the day," he introduced himself.

You gave him a small smile and introduced yourself. He seemed friendly, helpful, and guided you through the entire day—showing you the Engineering Faculty for your schedule, then taking you to the Swim Club, a place your dad had convinced you to join.

By the time you were back in your dorm, it was already evening. You had one roommate, but she wasn’t here yet. The name on her door read "Hailey," so you figured that was her.

Around 8 pm, a knock came at your door. You opened it to find a tall brunette holding a paper bag.

"Hi, I’m Hailey! I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday, once they told me I’d have a roommate. Also, here." She handed you the bag.

"Hi, it’s really nice of you, but you didn’t have to bring me a gift..." You said, shyly.

"Uh, first off, I’m broke as hell, girl. Second, it’s not from me. Third, it has your name on it, so I assumed it’s for you. It was left at our door," Hailey said, grinning.

You looked inside the bag, and to your surprise, there were containers of food. A note simply read, "Dinner."

You frowned, puzzled. What was this about?

"Thank you, Hailey. It’s nice to meet you!" you said, still a little confused.

"No problem! I’m gonna crash now, though. Girl’s tired as hell." Hailey laughed and disappeared into her own room.

You closed the door, placed the bag on your study table, and examined the containers. But after a moment of thought, you shrugged. Maybe it was just a token from the school. You didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. You were tired, and you had school tomorrow.

The next morning, you got up early to get ready. You threw on some loose clothes that were a little too big for you. You didn’t like how you looked in tight clothes, always feeling too thin. You gazed into the mirror, a habit you're welcoming in your life again, one last time before leaving. Your long black hair, your pale skin, your black eyes… at least you were tall. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you walked out of your dorm, you noticed a white plastic bag by your door. But you didn’t have time to waste. You ignored it and headed to your classes.

Hours went by so fast. Classes were done, and you're walking now to your swimming club.

The first day of swim practice was intimidating. Still, you’d promised your dad you’d give it a try, so here you were. You’re excited but a little nervous, as you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. When you arrived, the pool area was bustling with energy. Swimmers of all ages were warming up, chatting with their teammates, and prepping for the day ahead. You are immediately drawn to the sense of camaraderie among the athletes. Everyone seemed to know each other, exchanging jokes and smiles, making it clear this was a tight-knit group.

You found your place with the women's team, and the coach, a tall, confident woman with short black hair, greeted you warmly. "Glad you could join us!" she said. "We've been waiting for you."

"Hi, it's nice to meet y’all." You introduced yourself to them warmly.

"Go change in the locker room so we can start with practice," Coach told you.

You stepped into the locker room, feeling the familiar wave of nervous energy. The room buzzed with activity as swimmers prepared for practice. A few glanced your way, but no one paid you much attention. You were the new face, after all.

"Hey! Transferee!" You turned to see a guy with messy brown hair and a friendly smile. He was tall, built—definitely a swimmer. Is that the guy from yesterday?

"Luke?"

"Nice to see you again. I’m on the men’s team." He grinned, extending his hand, which you shook. “I forgot to mention yesterday."

He then led you to the side of the pool where a few other teammates were gathered. “Alright, let’s meet the team. This is Mia," he said, pointing to a short, athletic girl who was busy adjusting her swim cap. “She’s a sprinter, one of the fastest in the team.”

Mia looked up and smiled at you, giving a quick wave. "Welcome to the chaos," she said with a laugh.

“Over there is Isaac," Luke continued, motioning toward a lanky guy sitting on the bleachers, flipping through his phone. "He’s our distance swimmer. Don’t let his chill demeanor fool you—he can swim a mile faster than most of us can run.”

Isaac lifted his head and gave you a lazy wave, flashing a grin. “Hey.”

"And that’s Ava," Luke said, gesturing to a tall, broad-shouldered girl who was stretching her legs by the edge of the pool. "She’s the team's powerhouse in backstroke."

Ava gave you a friendly nod but didn’t stop her stretches. “Nice to meet you,” she called, her voice calm and focused.

You smiled, feeling surprisingly at ease. The team seemed laid-back but also serious about their sport. You couldn’t help but admire how dedicated they were. They were all different, yet they worked seamlessly together.

Practice kicked off not long after, and you were quickly thrown into the mix. The coach, a no-nonsense woman named Coach Katie, had you start with some warm-up laps to get a feel for your speed.

Luke swam beside you during your first lap, offering tips and helping you adjust your strokes. “Don’t overthink it,” he said. “The water’s your friend. Just flow with it.”

You nodded, focusing on your breathing and the rhythm of your strokes. After a few laps, the nervousness faded, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity. The water felt less like a challenge and more like an extension of yourself.

The week flew by. Each day felt smoother than the last as you got used to the routine, your teammates, and the sport itself. Luke was always there to offer advice, but you noticed he also gave you space when you needed it. Mia and Isaac kept you laughing during breaks, and Ava’s quiet determination was contagious. And you've been having a good bond with your roommate, Hailey. It became a regular thing. Along with the magically popping food containers on your door step every day. But you think less of it, Hailey's the one who's enjoying all of it anyway.

You got into a groove with your training, and by the end of the week, you felt like you were starting to belong. Your muscles ached, but in a good way. You were pushing yourself, and it felt… right. You didn’t run into Paige once—not at the pool, not in the hallways, not in any of your classes.

It was as if she had never existed in this new chapter of your life.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were moving forward. There was no lingering past, no painful memories pulling at you. Just the present—the team, the practice, the friendships slowly forming.

Apparently, you learned that the team was gearing up for a competition the day after tomorrow. It’s currently the Big East season, and you’ll be competing against Villanova. It’s an away game, and Coach Katie needs everyone locked in. So, you spent your free time practicing with the team.

Competition Day. You’re all lining up to board the school bus for the swim team when you notice another bus parked beside it. Students in athletic gear are also lining up to board it.

“It’s the basketball team. I heard we have the same venue this time,” Mia explains as she notices you staring. “They’re playing Villanova’s women’s basketball team.”

You scan their line, your eyes searching for a certain blonde. There she is, you think. Paige is standing there, chatting animatedly with her two teammates about something funny. One of them has a number 10 on her gear. And there’s Azzi. If it isn’t Azzi Fudd.

Suddenly, you catch the number 10 girl staring at you and saying something to Paige, who quickly turns her head toward your direction.

Shit, were you caught? You're not supposed to know her!

Thankfully, it’s your turn to load the bus. As you walk up the steps and find a seat, you feel eyes on you from outside. You can’t help but glance back. There’s no harm in it as long as you don’t show any emotion or recognition, you tell yourself. The number 10 girl has a small smile on her face and shakes her head at Paige. Meanwhile, Paige is still looking at you through the window with a blank expression on her face. But what shocks you the most is Azzi’s expression. It’s a mix of recognition and something between troubled and apologetic.

You turn back around and take your seat then sighed. This is going to be a long day.

A/N: Don't get me wrong guys, I love Azzi very muchhh. She's a princess. This is just for the plot! Much lovee <3

Taglist: @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj @0phantom0 @authentic-girl03 @thelightknight21 @shartnugget26

[doberbutts]

i know people rag on gc2b but. i don't really get why? i have like 5 underworks binders of various size and model and none of them bind well on me and roll up constantly. gc2b requires adjustment every now and then but that's normal for any garment. but binders with a stiffened front panel are binding, all stretch with no solid panel just acts like a shitty sports bra. i don't get it. half convinced people just say shit because they got One with mid stitching and decided all of their product must be just like that, and that underworks must have superior binding because they make things for cis men. which i don't think is true for comfort or binding.

I don't honestly know either- I haven't bought a binder for about 3 years and before that for another 3 or 4, so I can only say that it was a recent development that I see people complaining about the quality of gc2b. They've always worked for me but yes, they do fall apart after a while. When I started binding, it was a known thing that you would be replacing your binder yearly, and maybe if you took very good care of your binder you could get away with every 2-3, with specific care notes on how to make your binders last longer. It does make me wonder if somewhere we lost track of that.

I do know some of the people complaining about gc2b are well outside of the sizes the company makes their clothes in. This is a fair complaint in my mind because I am not a particularly big person (and my doctor called me obese at my last weight check due to BMI) and I am already in the XXL/XXXL range. I do think that a restructuring of sizing and also offering larger sizing should happen. And I again wonder if that is part of the problem- people squeezing themselves into a binder that is inherently too small for them is absolutely going to wear that binder out way quicker.

Another complaint I've seen is that they don't bind well enough for the particularly well endowed. I have fairly medium sized breasts myself so I can't speak to that on personal experience, but I do have a friend who is at the top end of gc2b's range who has breasts that are both larger and saggier than mine and he is quite satisfied with his binding experience. That being said, anyone larger than him would be SOL, so again, it does sound like there is a significant sizing problem.

I do have a friend who prefers the old style of underworks which had a binding front panel the full length of the garment, which has since been deemed unsafe and discontinued en mass for most binder companies. He had a dysphoria related panic attack meltdown the first time he put on a gc2b because the front panel being only chest-length felt far too much like a bra to him. He has fairly significant chest dysphoria and he also has been binding since he started growing breasts during puberty, and is significantly older than me, so I've long chalked that up to different world and dysphoria. He has since gotten used to the gc2b style and still wears them, but it was quite startling for him.

If I weren't having top surgery hopefully soon, I would still be buying gc2b, and when I buy binders for trans guys starting out I buy from that company unless they tell me a different company preference. Like I offered to buy someone a shapeshifters a few months ago because he was saying that he wouldn't fit a gc2b and wanted to bind and had a specific binder in mind. But otherwise if someone who I know fits in their size range asks, I still refer people to that company, because I and my friends have not had problems.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 27

(Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy, and often sings with other Mourning Doves in the early mornings, calling with them and cooing as he flies around Sage Island. Neige is a stress plucker, so he will occasionally have bald-spots on his neck where he had picked and plucked his own feathers. He usually tosses his feathers after molts, but has since been collecting and saving his feathers so he can use them to make something for the Human with them)

Warnings; ovulation, explanation of ovulation and menstrual cycles, less than behaved students, protective Platonic Yanderes, several yanderes, competing yanderes, more fluff, comfort chapter, selkie, hellcat, sphinx, harpies, minotaur, shadow-man, drider, plant Nymph, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Werewolf, Shinigami, Unicorn, Kelpie, Water Nymph, Satyr, Fawn, merfolk, Cecaelia, Genie, Naga, Dragon, Vampire Bat,

~~~~

Things had settled down considerably when Malleus and the other students- those that came with Crowley and Diasomnia- left. The tension that had been in the air lulled and quickly faded away along with the icy cold. Thankfully, you had managed to keep Malleus calm and bring him back to reason without incident and you knew Crowley and the other professors were glad too.

You sighed, sitting back on one of the many couches with Grim as Divus was quite content to join you, looking as worn and stressed as you felt. Even Trein seemed to be counting himself lucky that Malleus was convinced to leave without incident. It vaguely interested you to see the professors in such a domestic setting as the all seemed much more approachable now that they were the ones guarding you. Part of you felt relieved to get a break from the intensity of the other students.

"Tea?"

You looked up somewhat startled to a cup of tea being held out to you. Out of politeness, you accepted the cup while Trein joined you on your other side, lounging on the long couch with a sigh.

"I had a few questions for you, if I may?"

"Of course Professor."

"Please, Trein or Mozus would suffice, (Y/n). No need for formalities in your own home."

"Force of habit, Sir."

"How often is your cycle? It would behoove us to plan in advance so your schedule can be addressed and so we are made aware ahead of time."

You sipped the tea to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts, figuring one of the professors would ask eventually. At least they seemed far less influenced by your scent and by your ovulation, so they seemed safe enough to let your guard down around them. The tea was a nice herbal blend that was gentle and soothing in your throat.

"Monthly. The bleeding period marks an end of the cycle to begin anew. Ovulation is at the height of the cycle, meaning more fertile, not more interested in finding a mate."

"Mating isn't required for ovulation?"

"No. But there is a set timer on my fertility as a result. Every month marks another sex cell- we call these cells eggs- lost and most Humans have a set number of eggs. I still have years left on my timer, but it does continue to march on. When I am out of eggs, the cycle stops and I am considered to no longer be fertile."

"How long does the actual ovulation period last?"

"The height of it is only 12-24 hours. But the hormonal imbalance leading up to and after take a few days."

Trein nodded, sipping his own tea as he hummed watching the drink pensively. You watched Crowley walk over to the angled couch next to the one you were on, curling his legs under him like a great big bird perching. His talons ended in wickedly sharp points, and you vaguely realized he must have removed his shoes before settling. Divus spoke up next, his voice a relaxed drawl.

"So for at least a day everyone on campus will be attempting to burst the doors down. Lucky for us today and tomorrow are free of classes. I trust you've been keeping up with your homework?"

"As best I can. It has been a hectic first month. Goodness knows I've been attacked so many times it feels like years have passed."

Divus frowned at his, watching you for a long moment before he spun his red riding crop between his gloved fingers. A sudden glow came from the gem on it and you found your clothes had changed to comfortable lounge-wear in reds, blacks, and whites. While you examined your new clothes a sudden weight fell on your shoulders and you realized he had placed his fur over you. This must have been an act of extreme trust or protectiveness as even Crowley looked surprised with Divus' behavior.

The lovely professor patted the top of your head gently as he settled back down, almost insisting you stay put where you had settled. Trein seemed to be of a mind with Divus as the couch changed shape to a much more comfortable and plush piece of furniture, the large screen on the far wall adjacent flicked to life. As you got comfortable in the large and warm fur coat, you heard footsteps and turned to see Coach Vargas and Sam approaching with their arms full of snacks.

Grim purred excitedly and snuggled into your lap as a movies began to play, the professors all settling down around you.

~•§•~

"Can you believe this, Rook? Telling us- her sworn guards- that we can't be present to protect her during such a delicate time!"

The Harpy was ranting angrily to the Drider that accompanied him, Epel keeping pace next to the large Drider as they followed the Peacock. Naturally, Vil was furious he wasn't allowed to even accompany the others in confronting Malleus. He deserved the right to be there after saving those Royal Sword Academy fools that had let themselves be stabbed in the back by that prince. Instead, Azul and his two goons were selected to go.

He was so angry he could scream!

"I don't believe we have actually sworn to anything, Roi du Poison, merely agreed to accept duties should they fall upon us. Non, it would not be fair to claim we are sworn knights, but perhaps Mademoiselle Trickster would look upon us favorably if we did swear ourselves to her protection."

"We will have to do that when the duty to guard her falls upon Pomefiore. Which means you at least have a few days to shape up, Epel!"

The plant Nymph jumped at suddenly being called out, nodding quickly to the temperamental Harpy ahead of him. Epel had been busy thinking about the Human in question, remembering how soft her hands were holding his and the way she stood up for him so passionately. He wanted to protect her from everyone else and prove he can take on the protector role for her, so her soft hands never have to harden with work.

"O-of course, Housewarden Vil!"

"Don't think I've forgotten how you kept slipping back into your accent during the photoshoot despite my warnings."

"Right... Sorry, Housewarden Vil, I will work harder."

"As you should. We all need to be at peak when we finally have the right to guard her."

Rook and Epel both nodded, quickly agreeing with the proud Harpy.

"Yes, Vil!"

~•§•~

"To think, no one was selected this week! I thought we already prooved we were trustworthy to guard that Mousey!"

Leona snarled and paced atop his sun-warmed rocks where he usually lounged in Savanaclaw, clearly in a bad mood. He was growling and his tail lashed behind him as he walked, not only angry at being cheated out of a day so that ridiculous Malleus could stop his bitch-fit, but furious he was not trusted at this crucial time. Nevermind the fact that the same dorm is not likely to be selected twice in a row, Leona was angry and felt cheated.

"I'm just sayin', Leona, maybe it's a good thing she's stuck with the teachers."

"And how," Leona roared, "is this possibly a good thing!?"

"Because no one else can get to her either, right?"

"..."

"If they're keeping us away, they're keeping everyone away."

"Ruggie, for once you actually seem to have a brain rattling around in that skull of yours."

The Gnoll huffed at the obvious insult, planning to steal all of the cash Leona had in his wallet as revenge. Jack was sitting nearby, unsure what was his rank now that Savanaclaw was no longer guarding the precious Human. It seemed like Leona wasn't keen to run him off, in any case.

"Isn't this a good thing for her too? I mean, yesterday was rough on her with the Overblot and the attack. I think she deserves some time away from it all."

"Oh? And you think the professors aren't just going to stress her out more?"

"No," Jack shook his head, his fur bouncing with his movements, "you saw how mad professor Divus got when you made her skip his class. And Trein is always praising her any time she answers a question in class. I think the professors all see her as their pup and are going to act like she is their pup. Even Headmage Crowley calls her his little chick."

"Annoying as you are, you have a point, Puppers. Nothing to do about it now."

Leona sighed and flopped down almost dramatically on the warm rocks, the tension in the dorm falling as the Lion returned to lounging. Of course, everyone was still keen to know who was declared winner after the interruption during the Spelldrive. Most of the Pride figured they would win, not even aware Malleus had been holding back during their game.

~•§•~

"Do you think we should tell Papa Hades?"

"Tell him what?"

"That she is in the middle of her cycle!"

"I mean, maybe, but Headmage Crowley said he has it under control."

"Come on, Idi-nii!"

Ortho whined loudly, making Idia look over at him from the game he had been playing with his online buddies, trying to set up a game with the more absent than usual MuscleRed. Idia figured everyone was just gonna let the professors handle it, no need for him to step in. Even if there was a problem- which there wasn't- he still had cameras all over that building and would be the first to know of any issues.

"What??"

"Aren't you the least bit worried about her?"

"She has the entire staff of NRC as her DPS, Tanks, and Healers, what would I be worried for?"

Ortho sighed, seeming to visibly deflate as his breath fogged up his mask. Idia was right, of course, but Ortho was still worried. He liked playing games with (Y/n) as well as talking with her about everything he could think of. It was only natural the young Shinigami was worried.

"Look, Ortho, we can video call her later if she feels up for it, okay?"

"Okay..."

~•§•~

"To think, those-! Those-! Those hooligans know (Y/n) is in the middle of her cycle and completely exposed to their vile thoughts!"

"Riddle," Trey tried to soothe the upset Unicorn who was prancing and pacing and tossing his head back and forth angrily, "I'm sure the professors have it well in hand."

"Do they, Trey? Do they? Absolute hogwash!"

"You saw Malleus return to Diasomnia, and there was no black sky or rolling storm so he left peacefully. Everyone else who could pose an issue couldn't possibly stand against all of the staff together."

Riddle stopped his trotting and pawed at the ground in frustration, ripping up a bit of the grass sod under his hooves. Even his tail was curling and flicking as he took back up his worried trotting pace. Riddle was working himself into a meltdown and even Trey wasn't doing much to help soothe the distressed Unicorn, though not for a lack of trying.

"-and if someone gets by them, what then? No matter what happens someone-"

Riddle was babbling at this point, occasionally kicking one leg back as he walked and stomped angrily. He was obviously no longer listening to any of the four who stood trying to calm him, muttering axiously and snorting every few steps. No matter what Trey said there was clearly no snapping Riddle out of his current mindset.

Cater had retired to lay along Trey's back, lazily looking at his phone as he checked the ever increasing follower count on (Y/n)'s magicam account. Cater was glad that the staff thought of adding himself, Vil, and Rook as page admins so the soft Human would be kept away from the thirsty messages sent by countless monster accounts. At least he could delete these messages and send the tame ones through for her to read.

"THE TREES!"

"The... Trees?"

"Yes, the trees outside of Ramshackle! How did I miss it? They're easily a way someone could get in and hurt dear (Y/n)! We must warn the Headmage at once!"

Riddle reared up, whinnying loudly as he took off towards the mirror, Trey tiredly following after with Cater tagging along on the ride. This left Ace and Deuce looking at one another before shrugging. They wanted to see (Y/n), sure, but they also knew better than to bother the teachers or her many guards. Maybe they would text and check in on her.

~•§•~

Azul sighed as he and the twins returned to the Monstro Lounge, feeling surprisingly worn even though they weren't the ones facing off with the Dragon. Even being around with that tantalizing scent in the air was all too tempting an offer to their senses despite the beast that stood guarding the soft Human. All three had a taste of those pheremones and felt their own bodies cry out in response, longing for a taste or just to submerge themselves in the alluring scent that taunted them.

"Ne, Azul, d'ya think we're gonna get to guard Shrimpy soon?"

"I certainly don't see why not. Erikír's betrayal and Overblot certainly put us in good standing with her given we were who she sought out in times of strife. Leona was allowed to guard her after he proved himself, I don't see why the same won't be true for us."

"She sure smelled good though. Just wanna take a big bite and squeeze till she pops!"

Azul frowned at the swaying Eel that giggled to himself, biting playfully at the empty air in front of him. He had been in a considerably good mood following the brief encounter with (Y/n) and had not stopped talking about her. Similarly, Jade seemed to be lost in his own world, standing off to the side with his mouth open and his eyes closed.

Azul could tell immediately that both twins were affected by (Y/n)'s alluring scent and longed to return to the soft Human for another dose of that scent. Not like Azul was any better. He could feel the way he longed to reach out and grab her, holding her close to his chest while he nuzzled her neck. The things he would do if he were only allowed.

~•§•~

"Hey, Jamil, what d'you think made the wish work when (Y/n) made it?"

"Hm?"

"The wish. What do you think made it work?"

"I don't know, but don't you dare make another one or you might just wind up killing her on accident."

"But what if it means something?"

Jamil sighed as he tidied up his nest of pillows, Kalim's beautiful golden lamp shining in the center. The Genie was lounging next to his lamp, toying with the gem-topped lid and smiling absently. It had been on his mind ever since it happened last week and he wondered if it had something to do with the Human.

"I doubt it means anything. You can't grant another wish for her, that's final."

"But why? I'm sure it will be fine-!"

"Kalim! You kill anyone who makes a wish. Anyone. No matter how well intentioned you are, you kill them. Consider yourself lucky it didn't kill her. Not even being a member of the Al-Asim family would be able to save you from Malleus if you killed her. You are so lucky it didn't turn out differently. Don't tempt fate."

~•§•~

"Malleus?"

Lilia asked gently, approaching the sullen prince who sat looking out over the Diasomnia domain. Though he had agreed to leave at the behest of (Y/n), he still wanted to fly straight back and make that soft Human he adored accept him as her mate. His instincts roared and rattled in its gilded jail to be set free so that he may take what is rightfully his.

Malleus didn't even hear the other Fae approaching as he glowered and stared outwards. He wanted his mate and he didn't want to have to keep his distance, but those words kept repeating in his head and tormenting his every moment. The Dragon didn't know his beloved (Y/n) could ever look so angry like she did in that moment.

'I don't think I want to be part of your Hoard.'

Ice slowly crept up under him as those words repeated in his head and he clutched his chest in pain. Lilia took notice as well and quickly stepped in to soothe the Dragon. Though he wished she had done it differently and without threat, Lilia had to admit that (Y/n) handled Malleus expertly and he had no doubt she would fare just as well as his bonded mate.

"Malleus, I'm going to guess you keep hearing her threatening to leave the Hoard? She told you she wanted to stay so long as you could respect her space during her cycle. She still wants to be in the Hoard, she's just under a lot of stress right now."

"... It hurts, Lilia. I didn't think it would hurt so much."

"Love can hurt. Especially when you already love someone so much you just want to hold them close, but they aren't to that point yet. (Y/n) Isn't to that point yet, but she will be."

"What if she denies me? If she turns me away when I finally bare my heart to her?"

"She won't."

Malleus slumped into his arms, hiding his face as he fell to his knees at the window, his heart seizing in pain at the thought of what could happen. He didn't want to face the loneliness of his existence for much longer. It was a painfully lonely existence, the life of a Dragon, but now there was a light in his darkness, stars in his inky sky, the moon shining upon his face in the endless night.

The stars never seemed quite as bright without his darling love close by. The air was never as sweet. The whining of the wind was not as musical. Even his own nest felt so very empty and lonesome.

Lilia rest a hand on the Dragon's shoulder, laying one wing across his back to soothe him. It wasn't the embrace Malleus was craving, but he still took comfort from his friend, Hoard member, and caretaker. All the Bat could really do was be there for the Dragon while the waited.

~•§•~

You were cozy and extremely comfortable in what was now a cocoon comprised of Divus' fur, blankets, snuggly stuffed animals Trein insisted you take, and one happy boy Grim.

Sam was busy making a delicious smelling gumbo in the kitchen while you hummed along happily to the jaunty tune of the movie you were watching. It was catchy and bouncy in all the right ways that had you practically wiggling in your cocoon like a happy silk moth larva. The five men had been quite happy to show you all of their favorite timeless classics and you had to admit the beasts certainly knew how to swing.

For what felt like the first time in a very long time, you were able to just exist and enjoy what you were doing. There was no worry of gently navigating around the beasts feelings or the constant arms race they all seemed to be in for your affections. You could just vibe and snack to your heart's content, feeling so very protected in the large cuddle fortress you had made out of the couch.

Trein had even brought over Lucius who cuddled up to Grim and wrestled with the energetic kit. Even as the two napped in the growing pile of cuddle, Divus was the one to remind you to drink and move around every once in a while. Crowley had been trying to get Trein or Divus to give up their spot to no avail and pouted next to Vargas on the other couch.

If you could get more time like this, maybe things wouldn't be too bad after all.

[wings-of-ink]

Hello everyone!

I just wanted to pop in and say hey and give some updates. They're all very mild, but I feel like I've been quiet lately so I wanted to pop something out here for you so you get a feel for where I'm headed.

I have some asks that have piled up and I will be chipping away at them here and there. I had a weird week that I am recovering from, and my mind has been super unfocused lately. I'm doing better now, but had a bout with a few days of insomnia and anxiety. I am already a sleepy-sad mess in the winter, so this does me no favors. I'm popping in when I have some bursts of energy. Your asks and comments have made me smile, think, and get pumped for the days to come though, so I thank you for that. ^_^

Even though my energy is down, I am still finding enjoyment in working on some of the extras! Even if I can only work in short bursts, it's helped me find some respite. I have worked out a short-form character creation for the Cursed Birthday extra. I also have that outlined. My goal is to have that released by the end of this month!

I still plan on opening a Patreon soon, but I have kept putting it on the back burner as I focus on just making it through this time of year, lol. I am just so stupid-tired most of the evening when I have free time and am very over it. In future years, I'll be working ahead during the other seasons and then take a solid block of time between December and January off. I vote that we hibernate.

Before I open up Patreon, I want to have some work banked up and ready to go. Part of the benefits will be voting on what you want to read, but I need to have some basis to go off of for that and content to put out in between. I'll post some teasers and samples so you can see if the extras I have in store will tickle your fancy. I have a running list of both SFW and NSFW extras I'd like to write. Someone asked me earlier to spill (leak) some of my tea on these, so I will happily share a few things I have cooking in my noggin.

Regular (mild) Extras: * A series of stories about being "snowed in" with each of the ROs and how they spend the day with MC. * Each RO will get character-specific stories, featuring cute and romantic moments for things like Zahn's birthday or baking cakes with Oswin.

Spicy Extras: * A series of tales that are erotic dreams that the MC has while traveling with the group. Anything can happen here. * Each RO will have stories featuring spicy content relative to their character's desires. For example, in the first month of Patreon, Oswin will be featured in the spicy tier. The story is titled, "Honey," and is interactive. You can use your imagination. (shout out to the anon who already read my mind and called me on this, lol)

**Addendum** I remember what else I was going to include here so I'm editing. I have some corrections (typos and grammar and such) and a patch for Zahn's moment in Chapter 5 to put through but I cannot get the itch "Butler" application to work on my laptop still. I can't patch without breaking saves all over again. I am trying to find another computer I can do this on so I don't break saves just for a patch.

I think those were the main bits I wanted to touch on (hell if I actually remember, lol). I am recovering from my weird week and am happy it's the weekend. My new kitties are doing fabulous as well. They are very cute and keep me on my toes. Oh, and Arlo knows how to open doors, so there's that. Miles, who was very shy at first, has become a sweet little socialite too.

Arlo just looks grumpy, but he is an absolute ham.

Miles likes to lay with his feets dangling.

[cer-rata]

Cerata's 2024 End of Year Artist shoutouts! (part 1)

Okay so this year was the first time I'd really participated in fandom in over a decade, but I'm truly glad I did because I met a ton of great people, and even got to work on projects with some of them. So I wanted to put all of the cool visual art that I've received last year, whether it be art trade, commission, part of an event, or...fanart? Because that happened somehow?

Anyway, there are a number of other people that I worked with last year, but a bunch of that art started near the end of the year, and as such is not finished yet, hence why this post will be two parts, one now, and the second when everyone else finishes up.

No particular order, all of these artists are great, and lovely people, so do go check out the rest of their work and tell them how cool they are, yeah? Also, some are currently open for commissions, so keep an eye out for that.

(Also, this is my first time trying to do ID text, so bear with me if they're a little rough, despite being a writer, I hate words?)

So first we have @fiyaharts with a lovely illustration of a number of the my favorite Krypton and Krypton-adjacent children. Shadi is lovely to work with and fast to the point where it spooked me a little bit, go off girl.

Next we have two pieces from my favorite Evil Woman Apologist, @vivictory-draws, one of a divorced Barbara and Kara being totally normal about it, and the other of my child and blorbo that haunts my waking hours, Conrad. Love N to death, which is why I haunt her with threats of commissioning Joker/Desaad Yaoi.

...Maybe for the next list, who knows...

So next we have the art created for the last @womenincomicsminibang (which is going to be returning with a reverse bang in a few months, keep an eye out on that.)

The lovely and evocative cover was done by the talented @breakingthespacetimewall, and the scenes of Cassie trying and failing to get her life together were done by the wonderful @soop-jpg

Working with them was a pleasure and honor, and their dedication and kindness really helped me through finishing that fic, and I remain incredibly grateful for that.

The first person I worked with this last year, and the one who really helped solidify the core of a lot of my projects, @nicodrawings drew a glorious cover for my mania-induced first longfic, and also a character reference for the aformentioned disordered young man who haunts my waking hours. She's a professional through-and-through, with wonderful instincts and great communication. She's also working on a fan-comic project of her own that I think is wonderful and am excited to see continue.

I lucked out and was paired with the super chill, super talented @byeara on my first fan project ever, and they hooked me up with this super fun and detailed cover for the fic I wrote for that one kon-centric minibang. I loved working with them, and would love to do so again, logistics willing.

This jerk @vnekey made me cry by drawing really sweet, totally unexpected fanart for that mania-fic I wrote. I'm still a little speechless really, I'd never gotten fanart of any sort for any reason before, and to receive something so lovely as the first thing really touched me deeply, and honestly kept me writing through some rough patches.

...Fight me!

My first ever art trade! Kind of! @spider-jaysart is super sweet and supportive and made my...second biblically (is there a Source bible? Are there religious Coluans?) cursed son and his hapless, frankly narratively cursed best buddy look so precious that they ALSO made me cry, can we stop that actually--

Speaking of my cursed son and his narratively cursed Kryptonian, @spicy-apple-pie created this really pretty piece that's...a number of weird deep cuts smushed together into something really specific, but neat if you have the context, which nobody does :3

She was so wonderful and patient and I really enjoyed seeing her run with her inspiration, the Kryptonian mural is super neat and not something I would have ever come up with on my own.

@mediaraiz Is really stylistically flexible, and their "Blob" style really scratched that itch I had for something cute and playful, and they were so game in taking on a larger project, and then went above and beyond in making my lanterns looks truly special.

Finally (for now), @riverdeansart drew a sweet little scene of two horrifyingly stressed totally fine spacebros chilling and chatting about how everything is completely okay!

I was super vague about this one and Dean did a great job getting the vibes right anyway, and with haste.

...So yeah, that's if for now! I'll circle back in a bit when I'm forced to let more artists out of my basement everything else is done!

[alternate-universe-archivist]

Fae AU where Viktor is a fairy (with butterfly🦋 wings of course) and Jayce is obsessed with proving the Fae are real.

//conceptual, hurt, happy ending 1k words

Some believe in the supernatural and some don’t but most neighbours agree that young Talis has always been unhealthily obsessed with what they call the Fae, especially fairies.

Claiming he was once rescued by one in the forest on a cold winter night when he was lost, Jayce spends hours of his time trying to find that magic again. He has been called crazy and worse, even the best willing people told him that such efforts come at too great a cost, for even if they were real, the Fae keep themselves hidden from humanity.

Jayce doesn’t know though, that there is indeed one fairy that is just as intrigued by other spieces as him. Viktor remains small and invisible, hiding himself behind the books in Jayce’s room, beneath unworn clothes and fabric or the plants he tenders to. For the Fae must never expose themselves.

As years pass Jayce grows curious and desperate enough to try even more unsafe methods of establishing communication with the Fae. Viktor stresses each time another dangerous ritual is done, for the human seems to underestimate the danger some of the Folk pose—not all are gentle. For that very reason Viktor steals the cookies and milk Jayce leaves at his doorstep, takes the seeds left at the fairy altar, rings the carefully strung up bells, dusts the precious crystals, all so no entity more malicious can accept the gifts.

Jayce’s believes grow stronger each time milk is missing, the flowers bloom overnight, when he hears music coming from the windows, when he finds shimmering dust on his pillow. People only call him more and more insane.

Viktor feels a little guilty, would he have listened to his fairy mentor Heimerdinger had he never gotten himself in this predicament. But he can’t just leave him be now. Jayce is only attempting more dangerous rituals, his room ever more fanatic but cozier, the tea he brews smelling so divine. Sometimes he considers revealing himself—against all what he’s taught before. It could bring devastation to those he belongs to…

One day, on a particularly cold autumn morning, Viktor wakes on top of a messy shelf in Jayce’s room. Strangely, the bed below is empty. Delicate wings flutter through the house. No one seems to be around.

Viktor panics when he sees the latest research laying on the table. The notes mention fairy rings: mushrooms growing in circles that lead to the fairy realm. They’re made to lure in children, not adults, and not all fairy families are kind to visitors.

Viktor scouts the forest, trying his best to fly as fast as possible even with one disabled wing. Eventually he finds Jayce only a few seconds away from stepping into a huge fairy circle.

“Please let me interrupt!” tiny Viktor yells while dashing in front of Jayce. Before he can stop and think he has already exposed himself.

Jayce seems to be frozen in place, either by fear or amazement.

“Please go back,” Viktor urges him. “This isn’t safe.” Jayce’s eyes follow him as he flies closer—trying to push him farther away. It’s pointless.

“I knew you were real,” Jayce finally speaks. There’s tears in his eyes. “I knew it.”

“Yes,” Viktor admits. “But you still need to go back. And don’t ever try to contact us again.”

Viktor goes invisible once again. He feels terrible about it, but it’s for the best.

Months pass. Jayce’s experimental rituals have stopped. There’s only one ritual he follows now.

Even when no one’s around he talks, praying that who he saw in the forest that day is listening. All he wants is to see them again.

No one answers.

Jayce went back to the fairy ring of course. Only it wasn’t there anymore. In fact, he couldn’t find one in the whole of the forest.

“Don’t you talk because I’m not a child anymore?” Jayce asks. “Can’t we see each other because I’m human or do you not want to be seen?” he can only ever ask one-sided questions. “Do you dislike humans for what we do to nature?“ His shares everything that comes to mind: his feelings, his thoughts, hopes, dreams, childhood memories.

Jayce tries his best to draw the face and wings he saw that day. He can never get it quite right.

One night Jayce falls asleep crying under the sounds of calm rain. He has never felt more alone. All he has is short memories. Years of research all for a single moment that will never be repeated again.

When he wakes it feels like he’s still dreaming: there’s colorful dust laying right beside him.

Things slowly go back to how it was before. Milk and cookies start to go missing, music plays, sometimes he spots a flicker, and now he even finds notes scattered around the house.

“I can show myself, but do you promise not to tell anyone?” one such notes asks one day.

“I promise,” Jayce swears. “Please. I just want to see you again.”

One morning Jayce wakes not only to dust or flickering light or music, but a small creature sitting on his desk.

He has never been so happy before. They talk for hours, asking each other so many questions, Viktor gets to sit in Jayce’s warm palm, Jayce finally learns Viktor’s name.

Apparently fairies age much differently than humans. Humans age faster, for one.

In an effort to be together forever they do one more ritual. Jayce loses the mobility in his legs, but he gains one of Viktor’s wings.

Finally they can go wherever they want together.

…Heimerdinger is a little upset when he finds out but eventually forgives them.

[theficplug]

Actors on Actors, Michael B. Jordan

Michael B. Jordan x Black Reader

Minors DNI

Michael and Reader are exes and actors who are always caught up in an invisible string. This time the string leads them to interview each other for their own Actors on Actors episode.

[ Go easy on me! This is the first time I've posted in years. Happy New Years everybody x ]

The studio lights are blinding.

You’ve been through a million and one press junkets and interviews but this time, the air feels thick. Every corner of the room buzzes with an unfamiliar electricity that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. The set is pristine, designed to look like a cozy living room—two chairs, warm lighting, a small coffee table between them—but the last thing you can focus on is the camera. 

Because he’s here. Michael. Sitting just across from you.

You can't believe it. Of all the people they could’ve paired you with for this episode of Actors on Actors, they had to pair you with him. Your ex.

The same ex who once held your heart in his hands, and, with a few words, shattered it into pieces you’ve been picking up ever since. The same ex who, when you look at him now, is still so achingly familiar—like he never left. His smile. That same mischievous glint in his eyes. His laugh, low and rich, the way it used to rumble through you and make your heart stutter. Everything about him makes it impossible to breathe without feeling that pull again, the one that you worked so hard to forget.

Parts of your brain know that it would’ve been easier if the relationship had ended in a screaming match or some sort of cheating scandal, but you know that it just wasn’t true.

“We’re not the same people we used to be, and I can’t keep pretending we are. I think it’s time we let go before we lose ourselves completely.”

“Do you think that we’ve outgrown each other?” 

The answer in the silence between the two of you was all the confirmation that you needed.

You two were the definition of the right time , wrong person, and now you have to sit there and pretend that you didn’t plan your entire futures together at 16 years old. 

Of course the planning happened during a game of M-A-S-H while you were waiting in the dressing rooms on the set of The Wire.  And at the time you would’ve rather been Prodigy from Mindless Behavior or Zayn as your final choice, but 2 kids and a little blue house with him didn’t sound so bad.

 It still doesn’t…

But you’re both here, now, for the cameras.

You can put your professional face forward and sit for a conversation with him for the next 30 minutes. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him since the breakup. You are in the same circle and you are both mostly drawn to the same projects so the two of you constantly being around each other was inevitable. 

The crew gets into position, their voices soft but urgent as they check angles, make sure the lighting is right. You know the script for this—questions about your latest roles, how you’re navigating your careers, the “game of acting.” A simple conversation. But it’s never simple with him.

You put on your game face and saunter onto the set with a calm powerful stride.

“We are two people that need no introduction. Hello Michael.” you say to the camera while holding your hand out and he looks at your hand for a moment as if you had just handed him a speeding ticket. 

You laugh softly at his expression and decide to not give him too much of a hard time.“I’m just playing. Hey Mike.” you try again, and his small pout dissolves into a soft warm smile that takes over his entire face. 

“Hey, baby girl.”

He pulls you in gently by your hand into a hug. A warm embrace that lasted a minute, but felt like an eternity. 

The last time you were pressed this close to his chest was months ago while your legs were clasped around his waist– holding on for dear life as he stretched you out after the Oscars after party.

The comforting hand that was massaging your back was the same as the one that held you closer while his hips rocked slowly into you. 

Your hearts were beating so loudly against one another as if they were trying to declare your love because neither of you dared to speak the words.

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

“Look at me… Please?” He pleaded again, this time moving your braids  out of your face.

You let out a sigh and turn your head away, letting his lips land on the side of your face and neck instead. “I can’t.” you reply quietly 

“I know.” 

“Come on, baby girl.” Was all that it took for you to roll him onto his back and slide your champagne colored gown up higher and off of your body. 

You can hear him take a sharp inhale while his hands up and down your body as if he’s remembering and studying all at once. 

His fingertips danced over your soft brown skin that felt hot to the touch. His eyes finally met yours as you took him into your hand once again and guided him into you without haste. You teased him slowly the way that he liked while your other hand held his jaw in place. 

He opened his mouth slowly to take your fingers into his mouth between his parted lips as you sunk down onto the tip and let out a breath while preparing to take the rest.

Michael’s eyes flutter closed  when you cupped him lower and you tsk before shaking your head.

“Look at me. You wanted me to look at you. I am right here. You close your eyes again and I'm leaving. And you’re not allowed to cum until I say. Do you understand?” You question, trying to sound brave because if you had stayed in the previous position you don’t know how you would’ve kept your composure.

“You say that because you don’t know how good you fuckin- feel” Michael added and nodded hesitantly-

 Michael glances at you, his eyes catching yours for the briefest second before he looks away, focusing on the monitor instead. That moment feels like a confession. He always knew how to make you feel like you were the only person in the room. Even now, even after everything.

“You ready?” His voice is low, careful, and it makes your stomach flip. You swallow hard, nodding once, trying to push down the surge of emotions that threatens to consume you.

“Yeah. Ready.”

The cameras roll, the noise in the room quiets, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you. Alone in front of an audience you can’t see, surrounded by a pressure neither of you has fully prepared for.

Michael leans forward, his usual charm in place, but the tension in the air is palpable. You can feel his gaze on you, warm but intense, like he's trying to figure out just how much you’ve changed since the last time you saw each other.

“So,” he begins, his voice smooth, “you’ve been getting a lot of praise for your latest role. How does it feel to be the one everyone’s talking about?”

It’s a simple question. But it isn’t. Not when the words hang between you like a fragile thread that could snap at any moment. You know him. You can feel the way he’s looking at you. The way his eyes soften when they meet yours. The way his lips press into a thin line as if he’s waiting for something.

You answer, but your mind is elsewhere—floating between memories of late-night talks, whispered confessions, and the sting of a love that was never quite enough to keep you together. Your gaze flits to him briefly.

The moment stretches longer than it should.

This was a mistake.

But you don’t say it. You can’t.

“Well, I am in awe that when they wrote this character that Jordan Peele had me in mind. Like, of all people. He had seen my work and said yes I need this bumbling awkward nerdy black girl to be my leading lady. You know how much I love  Jordan Peele. How many nights have we had in depth discussions for hours about Nope and Get Out and Us. And the script was just brilliant. I can’t say much about it yet, but you know how ecstatic I was when I found out that I got this role 2 years ago. I called you 5 minutes later after I called my mom and I just sobbed. Getting to star in a movie alongside Viola Davis is just any actor’s dream and it’s just purely insane. She’s the sweetest, most gorgeous hardworking person in the room. And she taught me how to let those tears flow without being embarrassed. You owe it to the character to tell their story. It will not always be pretty.” You yap on and Michael is just staring at you with those stars in his eyes like he’s trying so hard to pay attention to all that you’re saying but with the way that he’s eyeing you it feels like he’s searching for something.

“You have an eyelash.” He lies quietly and grasps at nothing on your cheek while letting his fingertips graze your cheekbone momentarily. 

It takes you back to the night of the after party once again.

You’ve now braced your hands against his chest with one knee down on the bed so that you can gain the perfect angle to bounce for longer.

The new angle allowed him to feel everything  at once and his hands gripped your hips, his mouth opened to let out a broken whimper-– just above a whisper.

Your hands trailed from his chest to his throat before your grip tightened around it. 

The feeling of being sheathed inside of you like a warm embrace was too much with the way you brought yourself back down onto him with smooth rolls of your hips and bouncing. 

He thought that he was going to lose mind before you  fell forward to let him impale you on it and pick up where he left off. 

It was your turn to whine softly against  his neck while you licked a strip up his neck up to his earlobe , suckling it softly. 

“Right there? Right there! Right. There.” He teased as he mocked your words. He locked one hand on the back of your head and the other around your waist to seal you in place before thrusting harder into the most perfect soft ribbony spot with precision. 

You turn your brain off to how “wrong” it was to be back in your hotel room, using the man who was once the love of your life like a pogo stick.

A long drawn out “fuck” leaves his mouth and you know that he’s close. You lean back and allow him to sit up while you ride him again. He rests his forehead on your shoulder– placing the softest butterfly kisses.

The switch from him doing all the work below to Lotus position felt like it was nearly too much and somehow not close enough. 

You stare into each other’s eyes while chasing that feeling together, in sync and in ebbs and flows of what felt the best to you both.

“Fuck, I love you, and I can’t help that.” he admits quietly. His hands come up to cup your breasts, softly grazing the hardened brown buds. 

Your body froze in place. You searched his face for all signs of uncertainty and euphoric accidental confessions, but sighed a sigh of relief when you couldn’t find a hint of doubt.

“Is that not enough?” you question. 

You both didn’t have the answer to that question so you opted to lean in to kiss him and suckle his tongue instead.

The moment your thighs began to tremble against him he knew that you were close. 

“My God.Michael, fuck.” you whine and try to match his rhythm but finding yourself cradling his head against your breasts and trying to prepare for that coil to snap in the pit of your stomach. 

“Doing so good for me. Good job, mama. Good fucking job.You feel so fuckin’ good. Ma fu-” He praised and hissed as he felt your nails rake down his back, 

“Harder… You’re gonna make me cum-”He whispered and you could feel him twitching and throbbing inside of you. 

“I can’t. I can’t-” You whine again , feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of being so close to where you want to be. 

“Yes, you can. Use your words. If you wanna cum , you gonna have to use your words.” 

“Please?”

“Please? Please? Please, what baby? I don’t understand that.” He mocks you to the very end but you know with the way that he’s now gripping your cheeks and dropping you down onto him , that he’s just as close as you are.

“Please make me cum.”

“I know. I know. I know.” he coos.

“ Get my fingers wet for me, baby, I’m going to get you there. You feel so good. Gonna make you feel so good.” He  leaned  you back gently, his hands sliding down from your breasts up to your mouth. 

You wasted no time making a show of getting his fingers nice and sopping wet. You sucked on them while he gripped the back of your head and made you take them deeper. Any other time your skin would’ve felt like it was burning with the way that this gaze was set upon you , taking you all in.

He rubbed the back of your head with a satisfied hum and with one soft kiss to your temple he got to work–making you feel the best that you had in the 4 months since the breakup.

With his fingers between your legs , rubbing gently at  your sensitive little bud and him now thrusting up into you and a tempo that was different than before you knew that you wouldn’t last long.

A combination of your grip and the sting of your long sparkly nails were the last thing he needed to send him over the edge with you.

 He smacked your thigh softly  just in time for you to lean back a little in his lap and let him coat your stomach right next to the little ‘m’ inside of a heart tattoo. 

As you moan into each other’s mouths you begin to overstim each other. 

He laid you back, still grinding softly against you and with you twitching in his arms.

Even after all that had just taken place, the softest kiss that he placed against your lips almost felt forbidden. 

He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours while you both caught your breath. Neither of you wanted to burst the bubble of fantasy so instead you did what you both do best and silently comfort each other.

You wipe the sweat from his face and he leans over to grab tissue from the hotel room nightstand to clean you up. 

‘You okay? ” He asked softly knowing that neither of you had the energy or words to have the actual conversation that needed to be had but you both agreed that for the sake of growth and moving on that this would be the last time. 

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He confirms while running his hands over your back to ground you. 

He opens the bottle of water on the nightstand and holds it up to your lips before taking a few sips himself. 

By morning you could feel his fingertips grazing your cheek while he’s saying his goodbyes. 

It was as if he was reading your mind. The audacity of this man to smirk at you as if he knows that the last time you had the best orgasm of your life was 2 years ago and again 5 months ago while feasting upon you like you were the last meal he’d ever have.

You had been broken up for over 2 years at that point and you both blamed it on the delirium from the lack of sleep caused by late call times and reshoots. 

You cough down your Earl Grey tea and return a look of your own. “Thank you” you say firmly and he continues the discussion. 

“I remember that. When you called me I was already on my way home with flowers cause it was Monday - and if y’all didn’t know, brief sidenote. I feel like Mondays are hard enough. Everyone deserves flowers to start their week off right. So, yeah, you called and I also ended up bringing home a little ‘Congratulations, my future Oscar winner’ cake. And now a year later you’re about to  share that movie with the world. I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you worked. And that’s the thing about both of us. Neither one of us ever really wanted to be actors growing up. It just kind of fell into our lap as a part of our path and it’s something that we fell in love with. I have always loved your work ethic and your style of acting. You know that I tell you that on and off camera. The way that you can make any character feel so–human. That’s something that I really admired about you. She was this professional little thing that walked on the set of The Wire like she had been working in the industry for 20 years. She used to scold me so much too. I heard “be professional , Michael” more from her than I did the director.” He says laughing and you kick him playing with your heel. 

“You were a menace! I thought that we were gonna get kicked off of set with your prank wars! Our scenes were already 60 seconds” you say laughing as he grabs your foot,

“Heeyy! I was just trying to get your attention. I didn’t learn to love acting until I watched your scenes and wanted to work harder and fall in love with the craft. But, my first thoughts were the curly haired brown skinned girl that I got to see every day. You know, I wasn’t BIG MIKE back then. I had straight backs and 4xl Big and Tall shirts.It was rough. But Wallace taught me a lot. It was one of the first roles where I got to put on different shoes and hats and walk through someone else’s life” He says, laughing at himself at first.

“Please edit a photo of that right here, thank you. Because why did the wardrobe department have him dressed like Master P, every episode. ” You chime in while laughing at him.

He pushed your heel playfully with his loafer and it made you both burst out in laughter again. 

“It’s okay because they dressed me like Reba McIntyre. They really said a single mom who works too hard and loves her kids… It was… something.” You joke before getting back to the main topic.

“Yeah, a lot of people don’t know that he and I have known each other for forever and I can address the elephant in the room. Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean that we aren't still fans of each other and the craft and we work well together. I literally cried when his character Wallace died. They didn’t tell me so that my reaction could be more authentic. I hated it and wanted no parts of it, but it taught me how to embrace feeling and emotion and let it flow as it needs to. In order to breathe life into the character. I cried again while watching him in Black Panther for the first time. It still gets to me to see him hurt or in pain or just–” You try to continue the conversation but didn’t expect to get choked up on the idea of how much you care for his well being,

Michael instantly leans in with a tissue from the table next to your mugs to wipe away your tears and you quietly wave him off with a small shake of your head before taking a moment to gather your thoughts, 

You watch as the corner of his mouth turns down for a second and there's something etched across his face like he wants to comfort you but he's not sure if that's his place now.

The frown on his face is replaced with a knowing look when he realizes that you’re still in front of a whole crew and cameras. 

He settles for placing his hand on your knee and running his thumb over it to calm your nerves and soothe you. 

It was something he’d always do to calm you before anything important while your leg jigged and shaked from the anxiousness. 

You give him a soft smile and nod before continuing the conversation.

“ I think it was a combination of how hard he worked to make Erik feel human and how far he’d come in general. I also felt like Wallace in a way led to you bringing Killmonger to life. Erik really did feel like that guy from your neighborhood that you watched get dealt the shittiest hand of cards in life and he had to learn to play the game with those cards while going after the people who dealt them in the first place. Shout out to Ryan Coogler. Those were my favorite movies to work on. Lupita, Letitia, Angela, CHAD. Everyone worked for hours to create what you saw on the screen. You could just feel how important and special this film was going to be for a long time. My heart. My heart is forever left in Wakanda, honestly.  I literally cried watching all of his films to be honest. Put on any of the Creed films and you will find me bawling by the end. He and Tessa were like magic together. And yes I saw all of the tweets and articles, thanks TMZ. But, no really, can I just also clarify that Tessa and I are besties. I literally had to silence my phone before this because she will be sending some sort of meme. People love a good fake story.We needed a good laugh.” You tease while mouthing “fuck you guys” to the camera. 

You can hear the staff chuckling and you turn to see Michael immersed in what you’re saying. His eyes only leave your face to take a sip of his coffee. 

“Yeah, Tessa’s the homie. We were celebrating our anniversary in Cabo when we read those articles too. People just say anything and it’s taken as the truth. . . I think you’re right too. That’s exactly the way that I think of both roles. Really I approach all roles that way. Where’s the humanity in this? And if I can’t find it. Then I wonder when it was turned off. How did the character lose it ? Then from there I just dive in. . . Switch with me?” He asks after making a face at how sweet the coffee is. 

He takes a swig of your Earl Grey and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. 

“Oh, I could’ve told them that you wouldn’t like this. It's very sweet but very nice, thank you.” You say in the direction of the staff. 

“Oof. You have. You have my red lipstick on you from my mug.” 

You’re already swiping at his lips without a second thought. It didn’t dawn on you how awkward things might appear until you meet his gaze and he’s grabbing another tissue from the table and swiping at his own lips.

“Did I get it?” He asks licking his lips slowly and you wanted to smack the grin off his face at that moment. 

“Yup. YUP. Got it. Perfect, good job.” You reply cheekily before looking out at the crew and staff. 

“Also, Did you know that he was my first on-screen kiss? My first on-screen everything..." You segue into the next conversation about your newly released romcom. 

The cheeky grin that he was once wearing is now replaced with a look of nostalgia induced sorrow. 

“Yeah yeah. It was all teeth and upper lip. I didn’t know what was going on. I just knew that they said hey keep it cute. Simple. A peck. I still wasn’t at the BIG MIKE stage. This was the Chronicle era and I know y’all didn’t watch that one, but that’s alright —you’re still my people. It  was for some throwaway party scene. It didn’t end up making the final cut but the butterflies that I felt that day was all that I remember. I was so nervous I kept getting the lines wrong. Anyways, Steve ended up getting smashed into the ground the next day and that was that, but I didn’t even care. I was on cloud 9. We had our first date the next weekend after that.” He reveals and you smiled fondly back at him at the thought. 

“You never told me that you were nervous. I was so nervous that day. I think I ate about 20 Altoids and then I couldn’t even feel my tongue for 5 minutes.”

He chuckles to himself at the thought of the memory.

“You were definitely my celebrity crush. So, for me it was and still is a special moment in my career… And now I know why your breath was so minty.” He jokes but you don’t miss the way that he rubbed over the tiny print of your initials on the inside of his wrist.

“Also, can I just add. Can you please stop dying on screen! You’ve got about 4 or more characters that just get off-ed brutally. I was so over the moon when I found out that you would be the male lead opposite of me in this thriller romcom, Try Again. I know how much you give to these characters and how much you want to do their stories justice but I love when you laugh. It’s still my favorite sound. Working with you on this new romcom was difficult because we did all of our own stunts, but I loved it because it felt like we were 16 again. I haven’t heard you laugh or seen you smile that much in years. So many heavy characters took so much of your light in order to bring them to life. In this A24 movie we play a couple who’s thinking about getting divorce and are in the process of separation. However, we end up needing each other to get through a situation because it isn’t as it seems! So stay tuned for that.” You continue, pointing towards the camera.

He leans back in his chair, looking at you with a softness in his eyes, a little more vulnerable than he usually lets on in interviews. There's a long pause, like he's choosing his words carefully, trying to balance what he's feeling with the professional facade.

"Man, I—" He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair, as if gathering the courage to say exactly what’s on his mind. His voice lowers, sincere. "You’ve always had a way of seeing right through me, haven’t you?"

Michael’s eyes meet yours, the years between you two suddenly feeling smaller, as if the old connection is still there, just buried under time. "It’s... It’s not just the characters, you know. Those stories, they take so much, but they also give me a way to feel things I didn't know I needed to. But hearing you say that… hearing you say that you miss my laugh… it hits different now."

He exhales slowly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I don't think I realized how much of myself I left behind, chasing all those roles. But you always knew how to make me feel like me again. Even on the hardest days, there was something about your energy that could pull me back."

A pause, and he glances away for a moment, almost like he's fighting to keep his composure. Then he looks at you again, softer than before. "I missed you, more than I would have liked to admit. The real me. Not the guy I play on screen, but the one who can sit next to you and just laugh about nothing at all."

He clears his throat, trying to make it sound light again. "So yeah, you’re right. You were 16 again, and I was with you, laughing like nothing ever changed. Layla and Quinten are a lot like us in a way. They fell in love very fast and early on in life and they had seen it all and done it all. And then one day life is pulling them in two different directions. And onto a path when they’ve never really had to travel alone before. There’s love always, but there’s also self discovery that needs to happen. But there is always, always love, respect, and care.”

There's a tenderness in his gaze that lingers for just a second longer than expected, before he finally gives you that familiar, playful smile. "So yeah. Try Again is coming out a few months before Sinners, stay tuned!" He finishes off, trying to keep a level of professionalism and privacy.

The words he says hit harder than expected, each one a tender reminder of what you once shared, what you’ve both  lost, and what could still be there, even in the quiet spaces between the two of you. 

After blinking back the tears a few times, almost as if you’re trying to keep the vulnerability at bay, but the sincerity in his voice has already cracked something wide open.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Your gaze softened but the way that your heart thudded against your chest made this feel way too real. You felt caught between the walls that you built and the person sitting across from her, the one that still knows you better than anyone else. You take a breath and turn slightly toward him, leaning in just enough to let him know you’re hearing him, really hearing him.

"You always did know how to make me feel like I was the only person in the room, even when we were surrounded by a hundred people." You smile, but it’s a little sad, a little too knowing. "I think that's why it was so easy to fall in love with you in the first place. You never treated me like I was just another face in the crowd. You saw me. And I... I didn’t always know how to be honest with you, even when I should’ve been. But maybe, I’ve learned a little more now. And I think that’s the thing that made me connect with Layla in the first place. She’s accomplished and driven and sometimes a little controlling but that’s only because she wanted the best for him. Quinten is kind, loving and friendly. I think sometimes to a fault because in the career that he’s in people will see that as an open invitation to be as sneaky and shitty as they can be. Even if it’s done quietly and he doesn’t really see it. We get to see their growth and communication throughout the film. And there’s aliens! So really stay tuned! "

His eyes linger on his, soft and steady, before Michael responds . "I think you're right. Maybe it’s not about going back to what they were. It’s about... accepting where they are now.I could talk so much about this and the process of bringing a script to life as an actor. But, we only have about 30 minutes for the discussion and they’re already signaling for us to wrap it up! We’re both yappers so we didn’t even get into half the things that we wanted to talk about. Round 2 on your podcast, Table Read? ”

He asks plugging your show at the end, but you both knew that it was just another reason for him to see you and spend more time with you. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes flicking down for a moment, then back up to meet his. “I’d like that, actually. There’s so many more things I'd love to get into with you and I’m sure they’d love to see it.” 

“Thank you so much for being here with us today and I’m truly sorry that all we did was yap the time away but look forward to Sinners with this large headed man and the incredible Lily Rose Depp. You can also look forward to our movie Try Again. Once again, thank you for having us.”

Once you wrap everything up and the director yells cut , Michael scoops you into a hug without much thought. 

“You smell good.” He says quietly and you just give into it, resting your head on his shoulder. 

As the cameras stop rolling and the director yells "cut," the room suddenly feels quieter, as if the world outside their conversation has been temporarily suspended. There’s a weight in the air, and for a second, you wonder if the moment has already passed—if you should just let it fade with the lights and the final words of the interview. But then Michael's arms are around you, pulling you into a hug without hesitation, like he’s waited for this exact moment.

"You smell good." he repeats, voice low and warm against the side of your neck.

The “reminds me of home” part swirling around his brain is silenced and you both settle into the hug.

For a moment, you don’t say anything. You just lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, the familiarity of his embrace wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. The hug is long, comfortable, almost as if time has folded back to the years before everything shifted. Before the distance, the separation, the silence.

You breathe in his scent—something that’s distinctly him—and it hits you with the sudden realization of how much you missed this. How much you missed him.

"I didn’t know I missed this... until now," you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, vulnerable in the way only old friends or lovers can be.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face close but not too close. There’s something in his gaze, a mixture of longing and something more, something unspoken that lingers in the air between you. The laughter, the warmth, the smiles—they’re all still there. He hasn’t changed, not entirely. Neither have you.

"Yeah, I think we both didn’t realize how much we needed this," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. "But we can’t go back to where we were, can we?"

You meet his eyes, feeling the weight of those words, but there’s no sadness in them. Not really. It’s just the truth. You’ve both moved forward, but this moment, the connection between you, doesn’t need to be erased. It just needs to evolve.

“I don’t think it’s about going back," you reply slowly, voice steady. "I think it's just about... acknowledging it. Acknowledging that we’re here now, even if it’s different. But, different isn’t always a bad thing.”

Michael nods, the sadness in his eyes matching the quiet acknowledgment in your words. "Different can be a good thing."

For a moment, neither of you speak. The room around you feels like it’s frozen in time. The noise from the crew, the laughter from the makeup artists—it all feels so distant now, like they’re characters in their own story, while you and Michael are the ones still figuring out what comes next. There’s a kind of peace in that.

You finally pull away from him, offering a small, sincere smile. “I’m really glad we got to do this. It’s been... a long time.”

“It has,” he agrees, his voice soft. Then, with a playful grin, he adds, “Maybe we should stop making it so long next time?”

You laugh, and for the first time in ages, it feels effortless. You can almost hear the echo of that laughter from when you were both 16, the sound of two people who hadn’t yet learned how to let go of each other.

“I think I could manage that,” you tease back.

And just like that, the walls that had been built over the years seem to crumble, at least for a moment. The past isn’t gone, but it doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. It feels... shared. Real.

As you both make your way off set, you turn to him one last time. “Are you going to the Golden Globes lunch thing?”

He gives you one of those familiar, knowing smiles. “For sure. It’s on my schedule. You?”

“Yes.. It’s on mine too… See you there?”

“See you there-”

And with that, the chapter ends. Not with an answer, not with certainty, but with the soft, unspoken promise of maybe more. Maybe one day. But for now, you both step into separate futures, carrying pieces of each other with you—unspoken, untouched, and yet undeniably there.

@yaachtynoboat711 @fairyskiiess

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc

[year-of-whump-tropes]

Hey all! If you have prompts in mind or tropes you'd like to see, please get them in sooner rather than later! I'd like to get the list done within the next couple of weeks so I can be sure to get the event all put together by the end of the year.

Types of prompts needed | Categories that need the most prompts | All themes

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[lockedtowers]

seeing ppl in the tags super used to the j/apperwock(y) in b/urton's alice and then getting mad at how 'ugly' the s/yfy version is is absolutely hilarious to me bc the s/yfy version is literally just lifted from the original illustrations

[chaotictomtom]

trying to check out to see if i'll ever manage to get top surgery this year and. let's just say i thought the delay would be bigger but. the price is still always such a big ass problem i kinda wanna bash my head against a wall but. anyway