#decided to just post it since I like the lighting

[mggslover]

Reflections pt. 2

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her.

PART 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst x hurt/comfort Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers since i’m not on that season yet, can contain inaccuracies), reader cuts longer hair short, guns, reader isn’t the best person, emotional, vague mentions of sa and suicide, kidnapping, fade to black smut (so suggestive content) Word count: 5,8k A/n: turning a supposed to be one shot into a series is more difficult than i anticipated lol. i’m hoping you guys will enjoy this part as much as the first one :) i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Vibrant flashes of the pixelated scenes on TV reflected against the motel room walls. You were reminded of how your mother always used to say that watching television in the dark is damaging to your eyes. You never doubted her. Never felt the need to confirm her words by looking it up. It’s in human nature to trust one another. It is only when someone betrays you — or when you betray them — that trust gets damaged.  You sit on the edge of the bed, mindlessly picking at the loose printing of the Caltech shirt you’re wearing — Spencer’s Caltech shirt — as you watch the umpteenth news segment since you left the state. “Authorities are still on the lookout for a suspect following the poisoning of three men. The men were murdered at a college reunion that took place inside a bar, their bodies found just a street away. These promising young men had bright futures ahead of them, which were brutally robbed by this suspect–“

The screen flickered to your passport picture, showing a list of your physical descriptions on the right. 

“She’s believed to be armed and dangerous. Please, come forward if you have any information on her possible whereabouts. The FBI have stated that they will not stop their search until they have the suspect in custody. Justice will be served.”

With a scoff, you grab the remote, the screen fading to black with a simple click of your thumb. 

Young promising men, my ass. Hearing that sentence out loud left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, burning your throat as you swallowed. You let out a deep exhale, your body falling back onto the hard mattress with a thud, allowing the darkness to envelop you as your thoughts swirled through your head. 

Your whole life you had run away from the things that scared you, preferring to flee than live with the reality of the situation. You’d made the conscious decision to change your behaviour once you had decided to walk into that bar. But one thing led to another, and without being aware of it at the moment, you’d found yourself in the same situation: fleeing. Only this time around, it was different. This time you were on the run. And it wasn’t a question of if, but of when you’d be caught.

Ignoring the remorseless pounding in your head, you roll over the mattress. The cheap sheets rustled underneath you in protest as you threw your legs off the side. Your hand patted the bedside table until you felt the switch on the night lamp, turning it on. The room, as a result, illuminates in a soft, golden glow. 

Your eyes adjusted to the light, slowly taking in your surroundings. You noticed a large bookshelf against the right wall that you swore you hadn't seen before. Although your mind had been so clouded these past days that it wouldn’t be strange if you looked over it. Curiosity got the better of you, and with steady steps, you walked toward it. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. The words played in your head as your fingers grazed against the dusty spines. When the melody came to its natural halt, you grabbed the book that your finger had landed on.

Gone Girl.

You scoffed a breathy laugh, “Obviously.” You held the book mockingly in the air, giving an ironic nod and tight-lipped smile toward the ceiling. “Thanks, universe.”

The irony hit you as you flipped through the pages. Maybe you’re more like the protagonist—Amy Dune—than you’d like to admit. Always having the need to orchestrate the outcome of your life, selfish enough to not care about the consequences it has for others. What if the universe is not trying to mock you, but merely giving you a hint? Were you supposed to change your appearance? It worked for Amy. 

Your feet carried you to the stuffy bathroom, the book still in hand. With your elbow, you turned on the light switch, cringing when you saw yourself in the mirror. The only sleep you’d gotten in the past days was in Spencer’s arms, and damn was it a good sleep. 

Sleeping with an FBI-agent sounded like a good plan. Well… at least to you. What are the chances of being a suspect in a crime, not being believed by anyone, and then being interrogated by a man who had heart eyes for you? There was no other option than to play into it, and you thanked yourself for taking those theater classes in high school. 

However, it wasn’t all a ploy. It affected you to have someone be so gentle with you, to have an absolute stranger care so much for your well-being. And when you kissed him… you knew your heart was involved too.

Still, your brain overpowered your feelings. The second you woke up, you knew you had to leave. They already knew about Natalie, and the more time you gave them, the more dirt they’d find on you. Taking that gun? Call it a precaution. Hijacking a car to get to the motel? Well, you stole it from a hobo. Could’ve been worse. 

“God,” you groaned, thinking back on the events of the past few days. You rubbed your eyes and dramatically slid your hands down your face.

Your eyes landed on the nail clipper placed on the sink. This is so, so bad. You placed the book down, then picked the item up, circling the cool metal around your fingers. The ghost of your face reflected back at you in the mirror. Oh, your hairdresser will kill you. But who will care if you’ll be locked away in prison, anyway? At least your humor was still working.

You brought the clipper to the ends of your hair, your thumb pressing down as you cut a lock. The sound sent shivers to your spine, a sour face impaled on you. 

“I swear to god Amy, don’t fail me with this,” you mumbled to the sky in a prayer. 

-`♡´-

3 Days Ago

Being frustrated was an understatement for the way Spencer was feeling. 

Once he left the bedroom, it took him less than a second to notice the slight gap between the cupboard doors. His pulse quickened, he stood frozen for a moment as he felt a tight knot form in his stomach. In a sudden rush, his senses came back to him. He took a leap toward the cupboard, slamming the doors open, and to his suspicion, he found the safe unlocked. His gun vanished in the same way as you had. 

He couldn’t help the string of curses that escaped his lips. His hands reached through his hair, tugging at the loose curls as his mind raced in every possible direction, none of them making sense. 

How could he have been so stupid? He’s a profiler, for Christ’ sake. It’s his job to read people, to see through their lies. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, recalling the disapproving looks of his team members when he told you that he believed in your innocence. 

You were innocent. At least, that’s what he thought. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. An innocent person wouldn’t run, and they especially wouldn’t steal the gun of a federal agent while they’re at it. 

He thought back on your arrest. It happened quickly. The team had received a call from someone at the reunion who had been taking a smoke break in an alley near the bar, the first to discover the bodies. Finding you was simple. Your behavior was suspicious on the camera footage. You looked nervous as you walked into the bar, wiping your clammy hands on your dress, scanning the room as if in search of something. When your eyes landed on the three men, your gaze grew cold. It wasn’t difficult to connect the dots when you rushed out of the emergency exit right after the men had accepted their poison-filled drinks. 

But now it was a completely different story. You could be anywhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt responsible for this, even though it wasn’t his decision to let you go. He’d been insistent on getting you out of that interrogation room as fast as he could. The guilt pressed down on him, the pressure on his ribcage accumulating with every second that passed. Every second that he didn’t do anything was another chance for you to run. Spencer had no choice but to call Hotch as he stepped into his Volvo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t know what you were capable of. 

-

Spencer made sure to evade Derek’s sharp glances as he walked through the bullpen, headed straight for the small flight of stairs. 

Hotch was standing at the door frame, waiting on him. He never had experienced being scolded by his parents, but this sure seemed like a similar situation. Spencer swallowed, his hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, trying to hide his nerves as he braced himself for the words that were about to follow.

“I’ve informed the rest of the team,” Hotch explained, his eyebrows edged in an irritated frown. “The only reason that you’re on this case is because you could give personal insight into the unsub. We’ll discuss this afterward,” he added in a warning tone, “Behaviour like this is not tolerated.”

“I know,” Spencer muttered, his voice coming out hoarse. I don’t agree, but I understand. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response. His body leaned forward, head tilted as he called the team to gather around the round table. 

-

“Man, you slept with her?!” 

Derek hadn’t even properly sat down before the criticizing jabs slipped out. The tone was instantly set, an awkward tension lingering thick in the air.

Spencer’s mouth opened, his fingers flexing, but before he could respond, Emily rose from her seat. “It’s in the past. Right now, we should focus on finding her before she’ll devolve.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. This discussion was pointless; there was no time to lose. “Garcia, can you go over her documents again?”

“Of course, sir. Uh, let’s see–,” her purple colored nails tapped against the keyboard of her laptop. “She hasn’t been very active in the last few years. Most activity was during college. She majored in chemistry.”

Spencer’s heart did a jump at the mention of chemistry. He barely got the chance to ask you about yourself, and he was fighting the urge to ask Penelope for more information, wondering what else you’d have in common. 

“Wait a minute,” Spencer wondered out loud when his brain made the connection. “Chemistry.”

“The victims were poisoned,” Rossi noted, connecting the dots.

Spencer suppressed the rising nausea by forcing his eyes shut. His knee tremored, anxiously tapping against the underside of the table. He really didn’t know you, did he?

Hotch’s furrow deepened. “Another confirmation that she’s the one we’re looking for.” He turned to Garcia, “Did we receive the results from the lab?”

“Not yet, sir. But this is interesting though,” her nails continued their rhythmic clicking. “She dropped out of college a couple of months before graduating.”

“You wouldn’t just do that,” Rossi mused. “Can you find any reasoning in her archives?” 

Penelope shook her head. “Not really. The whole thing seemed pretty sudden. She had good grades.”

Hotch leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Let’s look at victimology.” 

“Okay, so we got Shaun Dallas, Eric Zimmer and Nathan Johns. Tight buddies throughout college and they still seemed to be according to social media. Different majors, none of them chemistry.”

“She seemed disgusted when I brought them up,” Derek added, referencing your interrogation. “Said that nobody in college liked them.”

“Well, they seem like the standard gross jock types,” Penelope commented. 

“Does she have any history with them?” Emily asked.

“Uh, not that I can see,” Garcia replied. “I don’t even think they shared any classes.”

“What about them personally? Anything you can tie to her wanting them dead?”

“Let’s see, boy wonder…” Garcia mumbled in response to Spencer, eyes focused on the screen. “Here! I got something.” 

Everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Nathan Johns was involved in a Peeping Tom “incident” when he was fifteen. He had a habit of peeping underneath the bathroom stalls in highschool, and one girl decided to press charges with her parents. Claims were quickly shut down though, because, obviously, his father is a lawyer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What about the other two?”

“Zilch. Squeaky clean records.”

“Let’s leave that for later,” Rossi suggested. “We have more to say about her MO.”

“She poisoned her victims,” JJ chimed in. “That makes sense with her chemistry background. She’s also shown that she’s meticulous and pays attention to detail.” She continued elaborating, “She managed to poison the drinks without the bartender noticing and she made sure to keep an eye on Spencer as he typed in the code to his safe.”

The team nodded like-mindedly. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip. He didn’t have much of a say in all of this. He didn’t even know why he still tried to make sense of it all. Whether he genuinely believed in your innocence or if this was an attempt at finding a theory that would sooth his mind.

“She’s rather chaotic, actually,” he eventually spoke up. “She snapped during the interview when Natalie Fisher got mentioned. She took my gun while I was in the room next to her. To be more specific, she—“ he cleared his throat, “I woke up and she walked back to me before heading out. It doesn’t match the MO of the killings.”

“What are you suggesting, kid?” Rossi asked, confusion visible on his face.

“She doesn't have to be the unsub.” 

“Oh, come on, man. Then how do you explain the dumping of the bodies?” Morgan inquired, his tone laced with accusement. “She went from meticulous to dropping the bodies in the middle of an alley where anyone could pass by. She’s shown dramatic changes in MO before.”

“The bodies could have been placed there to set her up. The unsub must have known she’s disorganized, so positioning the bodies there could be connected to her. If the unsub is as diligent as we’re assuming, he could’ve easily disposed of the bodies in a place where we wouldn’t be able to find them. Instead, he dropped them right in the face of any passersby.”  

“Spence, I thought we’ve been over this,” JJ said, offering a sympathetic smile, her hand sliding over the table to reach out for him.

Spencer quickly pulled his hand back, seeing the obvious hurt on his friend’s face. Yes, they had been over this. He was positive that he would snap if he had to go through another “Are you sure you’re ready to be back? The change from prison to society is a huge change” conversation. 

“Did she share anything else that makes you think this way?”

Spencer blinked at Hotch's question. The moment was still fresh in his mind. He remembered how nervous he felt when he had asked you to take you to his place. He had replayed the hypothetical conversation in his mind a thousand times, how he would first open up about his past, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about yours. But when you kissed him the way you did, there was no space for any other thoughts in his mind.

“Reid,” Hotch repeated.

“No.”

“No?” 

“She said that she likes the sea,” he shared, the corner of his lip slightly lifting at the memory. 

“I feel safe in your arms,” you whispered, your breath tickling his chest as you lay your head on top of it. His arm was wrapped around you, tracing patterns on the bare skin of your arm, wondering if you could feel his pounding heartbeat. 

“The only other place I’ve felt this safe is at sea.”

He smiled as he gazed down at you. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Really?”

He felt the movement of you nodding. “It’s the only place that calms my mind.”

The sound of ruffling paper snapped him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to see Rossi unrolling a large map of the country. 

Spencer could feel the prying eyes on him. Geography of the unsub is his strength. He inhaled a deep breath before leaving his chair, reluctantly walking toward the wall where Rossi had pinned the map.

“She told you that she didn’t have a place to stay,” Prentiss stated, her words sounding like a question for affirmation.

Spencer nodded, trying to focus on the case like it was any other. “She walked to the reunion, probably taken by cab, and then we found her walking around the area when we arrested her. So, she has no vehicle.”

“For all we know, she could’ve taken the first plane out of the country,” Morgan interjected.

Hotch clicked his tongue. “We alerted Border Patrol when Reid had called me, which was less than an hour after she had left his house. If we assume she’s chaotic, she wouldn’t be able to book a flight that quickly. The only place you can disappear this smoothly has to be a place in her comfort zone.”

“Can we assume she’s still in Virginia?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t think so,” Spencer replied. “Her picture is all over the state, and Virginia’s beaches are very populated, with a minimum of in the hundred thousands. Virginia Beach, for example, has a population of 453.649.”

“She doesn’t have a car,” Rossi thought aloud. “There are no records of her having a stable job, so she doesn’t have a lot of money in her pockets either. Knowing cab drivers, they won’t want to drive around for hours, which leads us to—“

“Delaware,” Spencer finished. 

-`♡´-

A sea breeze gently caressed your face, blowing through your cut hair. With your eyes closed, you cherished the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the scent of saltwater in the air. It was a nostalgic smell that came with a flood of memories: building sandcastles on the beach, running barefoot across the hot sand before diving into the sea, loud laughter as you splashed the water and got splashed in return. 

The flashbacks were a stark contrast to your current predicament. When you opened your eyes, it was dark. The sea in front of you looked black, only reflecting a small glimmer of the moon that hung low in the sky. The sand beneath your fingers felt cold. And there were no sounds of laughter, not even the sound of annoying seagulls. You were surrounded in absolute silence.  A crunching noise came out of the darkness. The sound so sudden and intense, similar to being whipped across the face. Though, your head didn’t turn. You knew who was out there. 

The sounds grew louder. Sweat started forming on your face and hands. Your fingers trembled as you reached into the pocket of your jeans, the tight fabric cutting into your hand as you pushed deeper until you felt the cool metal of Spencer’s gun.

“Don’t.”

The word cut through the air. Your grip on the gun tightened in an effort to keep your fingers from shaking. No words left your mouth as you carefully tilted your head. 

In front of you stood Spencer, exactly as you had predicted. But unlike your predictions, he was on his own. Was he here by himself to personally arrest you? To revel in your loss?

You continued to stare at him, though you weren’t really seeing him. Your vision blurred by the tears that had welled in your eyes. You blinked them away, focusing on his gun, which he held tightly in between both hands, aimed straight at your skull. 

“Is that a new one?” 

He seemed taken aback by your question, glacing down to the firearm in his palms. When he looked back at you, you stood in front of him, mirroring his stance, gun directed at his chest.

“I like this one better,” you commented, clicking the safety off.

Spencer cocked his head, maintaining his unwavering eye contact. He seemed to be challenging you. You clenched your jaw, anger boiling hotter inside of you. 

“Put the gun away,” he strictly ordered, though his tone remained unnervingly calm. It was too calm for your liking. He should be scared. At least show a sign of nerves. Instead he looked at you like you were a joke, like you weren’t capable.

“You’re not going to use it anyway,” he dismissively adds, fueling your anger.

“Yes, I will!” 

Your voice taunted as you took a step forward. Your legs trembled at the move, your heart thudded painfully in your chest to the point of nausea. It was difficult to comprehend the next words he spoke, your ears ringing before you even fired the shot.

“You didn’t kill those people,” Spencer declared. The words sounded like he was repeating a scientific fact. Like it was the only possible truth.

He then called out your name.

The word rolled off his tongue like it was crafted just for him to say it. Akin to a gentle symphony. His pronunciation was just as soft and full with longing as it had been when he breathily whispered it into your ear over and over again.

“I would’ve!” you shouted out, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. You strode forward until the barrel of your gun pressed into his chest, jabbing the cold metal into his clothed skin. 

He didn’t flinch. Instead of his breathing hastening, it slowed down. His eyebrows drooped as he looked down at you. 

“I would’ve,” you repeat just as loudly, digging the weapon harder into him. Pity remained on his face and you couldn’t stop the tears threatening to spill again. Whether it was from frustration or sorrow, you weren’t sure. 

“I would’ve, I would’ve, I would’ve!” 

The words tumbled from your mouth like a mantra, each repetition feeling like the only way to catch your breath. With every spoken word, you hit his chest, though your punches weaken with every syllable.

Spencer continued to watch you, observing you as he gave you the space that you needed. When you looked up at him, his eyes were glistening, triggering something inside of you.

A sob broke free from your chest. Spencer’s gun slipped from his hand in reaction, falling into the sand with a muffled thud. 

“I should’ve…” you choked out, the words a combination of an apology and a confession.

Spencer nodded compassionately, his hands reaching out to gently cup yours. 

 “Should’ve done it. Should’ve been me.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he spoke reassuringly, carefully taking the gun from your limp fingers and tucking it in his back pocket. His hands quickly returned to yours, without you even registering his movement. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you softly cried. The words weren’t meant for Spencer, but somehow, he understood. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you against the spot where your gun had been only seconds ago.

Sorries became the new prayer you desperately muttered against his chest. Sorries to Natalie. Sorries for being weak. Sorries for not giving her the justice she deserved. Sorries for dishonoring her when she needed you most. Sorries for everything.

The apologies to others turned into a plea to receive them yourself. Sorry for making you so naive. Sorry for making you weak. Sorry for giving you the need to run from yourself. 

Your head hung low against him, your grip on his shirt tightening, your lungs constricting like it was painful to breathe. 

“You’re angry.” Spencer noted, noticing the change in your posture. 

You sniffled against him, not having the energy to lie. “Yes.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. The gesture made your stomach flutter. 

You felt conflicted by his kindness. How was he able to hold you so tightly? To choose to stay by your side despite the mess you were.

The delicacy of his touch parallel to the fury still simmering inside of you. 

“I am so mad,” you admitted in a resigned breath.

His hand slid from your head to your neck, gently cupping your jaw. “Let it out on me.”

You had to furrow your brows, not sure if you understood him correctly. 

“I mean it. Your body is full of cortisol and epinephrine. Stress hormones,” he explained. “You need to be relieved of those.”

His fingertips trailed lightly over your arm, and you followed his touch with your eyes. 

“Use me. Let me offer you relief.”

You stood frozen in place, swallowing the breathless laugh that almost escaped your lips, as you noted the genuine look expressed on Spencer’s face.

His eyes bored into yours, the hazel of his irises altering into a darker shade of brown.

Tentatively, your hands moved up his body, and only then did his heartbeat quicken. Your fingers continued trailing upward until you gripped his collar, the fabric soft in your tight grip. His eyes don’t leave yours, mouth just slightly agape as you pull him in closer. 

Then you kiss him — hard.

*link to smut (pt. 2.5)

-`♡´-

The ventilation quietly hummed in the back of the motel room from the shower you had just taken. After the intimate moment on the beach, Spencer had convinced you to take him back to the motel you were staying at. “They’re all fast asleep. They haven’t noticed me leaving” he assured you. 

It didn’t matter anymore if they knew your whereabouts, you’ve told Spencer everything anyway. How Natalie has been your bestest friend in college. How you were tied to the hip. How you never left each other’s sight — except for that one night…

You had cried in his arms, and he had let you. He held you close as you lay in bed. He comforted you with statistics about guilt and trauma, as you told him why you went to that reunion that night. It marked the anniversary of the week Natalie had died. Of the week you received an email from her: a final note. Telling you by the time you read this, she’d be long gone.

You hadn’t gone to her funeral. Didn’t even receive an invitation. You hadn’t been in contact with Natalie ever since she had called you from that party. You’d picked her up that night, taken her to the hospital, and left the second the doctors told you she’d be fine. 

You didn’t tell Spencer this part. You only told him that you expected there to be a memorial at the reunion, a way for you to have a proper goodbye. Your heart had stopped in the same way it had years ago when you walked into the bar and found that there was nothing. Nothing but loud music, colored lights, and drunk people. It was as if Natalie had never existed.

Your ears had rang. Your breaths came in short pants. With all your might, you suppressed the rising panic attack, using the last bit of strength to walk toward the three men you’d spotted from the start. The men that had done this to Natalie. Who had killed her, although not with their hands. 

Naive little birdie, Natalie had always called you. The sweet nickname now sounded more haunting as the three men stared you up and down. Your heart beated in expectancy, but then you noticed their dilated pupils. The way their breath reeked of hard liquor. Their lips still glossy with alcohol as they gave you a sluggish smirk. They hadn’t even recognized you. Naive little birdie.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. “It’s okay.”

You had shaken your head, the memories tearing apart into small pieces in your mind. Quickly, you had finished your story, telling him that after that moment, you didn’t have it in you to walk past everyone again. Too terrified to see the laughs on their faces. Instead, you marched straight to the emergency exit.

The both of you stayed quiet after your confession. The air hung heavy with silence, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“We need to talk about it at some point,” Spencer brings up.

You nodded. Spencer had been kind to you, given you the time to process, but the conversation was inevitable. You hadn’t killed anyone. So someone else had.

“Someone is trying to blame this on you. Someone wants to see you gone,” he softly whispers, his voice cracking with emotion.

The subject made you feel uncomfortable. You had thought about it before. Plenty of times, actually. But every time you did what you did best: ignore it. It wasn’t as easy to disregard when someone was looking you in the eyes, their pain so visible.

Still, you shrugged, brushing aside his comment. “It doesn’t matter. I wanted them gone, and now they are. It doesn’t matter how.”

“It does matter.” 

The rise in his voice made you flinch, and he instantly cupped your hands, pulling you back to him. “‘M sorry. I’m just scared.”

It was strange to hear someone be so honest. Spencer had been honest with you from the start. He’d said that he would protect you, and he was still keeping to that promise.

You moved your hand to your hair, wanting to twirl  the locks as a nervous habit, but then realized most of it was cut short. 

“I guess we can tell your team tomorrow,” you settle on saying, swallowing as you envision their dirty looks.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows in a questioning gaze, leaning forward as he hid the small, grateful smile that lingered his lips.

You chuckled, feeling relieved by his response. You nodded your head against the pillow. “Really.”

The room returned to silence. Surely now deeply comfortable. No more questions that lingered in the air. The back of Spencer’s fingers lazily traced the side of your face. His warm hand trailed down the skin. His eyes flickered over your face, expression filled with awe as he grazed his fingers through your short locks. “Your hair looks pretty.”

A soft snort escaped you, “It looks horrendous.”

He responded with a breathy laugh, and you can’t help but smile widely back at him. 

“I think this suits you better. Not that I didn’t like your other haircut,” he quickly corrected himself, making you chuckle. “I like your face. The longer hair hid it. Now I can see you.”

Your cheeks warmed. Spencer did see you. Not just your appearance — he saw you. He had seen you from the moment your eyes had locked when he and his team had found you and brought you to the station. He had seen you before you’d even seen yourself. The thought of stopping your hiding, your fleeing, didn’t seem so scary anymore. Not when staying would bring you to him. 

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a low rumble, followed by a louder one. Spencer’s hand slipped from your hair as he placed it on his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

A bright, childlike laugh bubbled from your chest. Spencer snickered, grinning from ear to ear. He bashfully brushed his fingers through his messy curls. “I havent really eaten since we’ve gotten here.”

“Let me grab you a snack.” You crawled out of bed, legs still a little shaky as you stood up. 

“Do you have snacks in the room?

“No, but there’s a vending machine outside.”

He propped himself up against the pillows, his eyes following you as you made your way over to the bathroom where your clothes were bundled up on the tile floor. He let out a small sigh as you walked out of sight.

He naturally timed the minutes till the door creaked open again. You had washed yourself up in the sink, some water droplets still clinging to your neck. Your hair less frizzy now that it had been dampened. You wore your clothes from earlier, though one could tell they had been taken off of you multiple times.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, grabbing the key and some coins from the cabinet. And he believed you.

-

The door shut behind you, a cold breeze immediately hugging your skin. The LED lamps brightened the exterior corridor. The vending machine at the end of the walkway shone even brighter, catching your attention.

You walked straight toward it, curiously peering into the transparent door. You pressed the numbers for trail mix and beef jerky — something that could pass for dinner. You inserted the coin, impatiently bending down in front of the opening.

The rumbling sound of the machine was followed by a whoosh of air.

Then a sharp bang echoed through your skull.

Then you were gone.

-`♡´-

Shadows of bright lights flickered in front of your eyes, giving the illusion that you rubbed them too hard.

You forced your eyelids open, and if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying down, you would’ve stumbled. With effort, you scrambled yourself up into a sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

Four tiled walls enclosed you. The room resembled a lab: a sink with a counter to the left, an iron door on the wall right in front of you, and an air vent to the right. 

A bitter odor entered your airways, making you scrunch your nose. You turned your head to the left — a little too quickly — the throbbing pain catching up with you, making you groan in pain. 

Your hands shot to the sides of your face, trying to hold your head still in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. 

A warm liquid coated your fingers. You pulled your hand back and saw it was stained crimson. A gasp left you, followed by a string of whimpers as you felt yourself growing faint. 

You spotted a red first aid kit on top of the counter. On your knees, you slumped toward it, taking several breaks despite the distance only being ten feet. 

With clammy hands, you clutched the counter, inhaling a deep breath before dragging yourself up. Your body hovered over the table, and you reached your arm out to pull the kit closer to you. You fumbled with the lock on the box. “Open up, please,” you begged to whatever God that was listening.

The acid smell grew stronger, and it was then that you noticed the small vial next to the first aid kit. Its contents contained a light yellow solid. Cyanide — poison. 

The metal door creaked open, the sound stinging straight through your skull. You cried out as you fell to the ground. You backed away to the nearest wall, curling your knees to your chest just in time for the door to fully open. “Naive little birdie. You’re awake.”

PART 2.5

[samsblades]

✶ natural — sam winchester

cw : gn!afab!reader, fluff & smut, sorta sunshine!reader, post-hunting!au, passing mentions of monsters hunting and guns, nightmares, illness/fever (reader gets sick), consensual somnophilia, oral (r!recieving), swearing, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, love), mostly unedited, 5.3K words. requested ! MDNI !!! 18+ ONLY

summary : five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

when you moved into this apartment with sam, you were both worried about having neighbors. you have the middle complex, so there's people upstairs and downstairs. overall, it's actually been pleasant. it feels nice and normal, and you're pretty sure that no one suspects that you and sam were previously monster hunters. mostly because none of your neighbors know that they exist. maybe it's a bit strange that you're a little older now, and just starting your lives, but you've just told everyone that you and sam didn't like what you were doing before, and have decided to start over.

the downstairs neighbors are delightful. lina and isa are just a bit younger than you and sam, brought you homemade bean and rice as a welcome, and told you about the fantastic panadería just a few blocks away. your only complaint might be that their music gets a little loud, and their luckily infrequent yelling matches in furious spanish are even louder.

it's the upstairs neighbors who bother you more. riya is nice, but you think they're too hot and too cool for their boyfriend nate. of course, that's not the problem, nor is it any of your business. for the record, though, sam agrees. it's more so about the middle of the night sex and the poor quality of whatever bed frame they made the awful choice of purchasing.

the first time they woke you up, it had been less than a week since you'd moved in, and none of the paranoia from your previous life had even begun to wear off for you or sam.

your heart is thundering at the first loud bump that wakes you. sam's hand finds yours just as yours looks for his. your other hand is searching blindly for a gun on your beside table that isn't there. it's in the drawer, still nearby, but hidden now and less accessible than you used to have it. you and sam sit up, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark and ears tuned for any other noises that might be out of place.

another thump nearly makes you open that drawer, but your now sharpened senses register that it's coming from the apartment above you. the next realization is that the sounds are rhythmic, and you just barely catch the sound of a muffled moan.

with that, you collapse back onto your pillow with a light laugh, eyes still bleary with sleep.

"goodness," you say through a breathy laugh, the headboard of their bed banging against the wall with complete insistence. it sounds unstable, honestly. "i think they're actually going to break the bed."

sam laughs with you, laying back down as well and turning on his side. his arm wraps around your waist and he buries his face into the side of your neck, nuzzling your warm skin with the tip of his perfect nose. this is followed with a soft kiss, as usual. you grin. sam can't see or feel it, but he knows it's there. that smile of yours and another soft laugh when the wall receives a particularly harsh bang.

"think this'll happen often?" you lament. "will we have to tell them to get a new bed frame? or have quieter sex?" it's sam's turn to laugh, a sleepy sound that suits him much better than anything loud or bloody.

"might," he murmurs into your skin, all soft and tired now that he knows there's no threat. for a few awful seconds, he thought some monster or hunter or whatever possible enemy had come to ruin your attempt at normalcy together before you'd even finished setting up all the furniture. he's happy that it's just the neighbors with a wobbly bed frame.

almost abruptly, the noise stops. you wait in quiet for a few moments to be sure that you're really being granted silence.

"they're done already?" you tease with a whispery laugh. it's not that sam doesn't have the skill to get you off quickly, or you him, but you tend to last much longer together. quickies aren't your go-to, even if they're required sometimes. now that you have your own place and are starting to settle down, you don't imagine things starting and ending that fast. as for last night, it felt like forever, in the best of ways.

you and sam are courteous enough to have a sturdy, quiet bed, though.

꩜｡⋆

you sleep light when you're feeling poorly. little things like the soreness of your throat or the movements of your upstairs neighbors wake you easily. so a sharp gasp from sam and the tensing of his muscles certainly pulls you out of your sleep. your eyelids seem to stick shut for a moment before fluttering open, and you shift in his arms. his slightly labored breathing goes silence as if he's holding his breath, likely worried that he's woken you and hoping that if he's quiet enough now you'll fall right back asleep.

"nightmare?" you whisper, voice course and barely audible. you resist curling your arm around his middle in case it's one of those dreams that makes touch difficult for him.

"sorry," he murmurs, answering your question with the tone of his voice rather than his words. he sounds tense and tired, and you know definitively now that his dreams have been unkind to him. you wish he'd never apologize for accidentally waking you. it's not as if you don't do the same sometimes.

"don't be sorry," you insist, as usual. his arms tighten around you, and you take it as a sign that you can do the same if you like. instead of slipping around his waist, your hand reaches up to settle into the soft hairs at the base of his neck. you pull his head close, pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering long. he's still all tense and closed off. "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. but talking about it won't… it won't make everything come back. talking about it won't change what we have now, you know that. we're allowed to talk about it. any of it."

"i know," he says, sounding like he doesn't really know it. you give a soft sigh, but don't push it. maybe you'll talk about it later, when he's ready. it's hard to focus on learning to live again when you're still haunted by the past. sometimes it's easier to just let the past be, to know that there are monsters in the closet, but keep the doors shut anyway. the understanding you have of each other has to be enough, and you've found so far that it is.

"you okay?" you decide to ask instead, voice as soft as it can be while your throat hurts like this.

he nods, then tilts his head up. "i'm okay." his lips find your chin as a reassurance, a promise. "it wasn't… as bad as it could've been." he's calming slowly, melting into your hold, so you suppose he's not lying. it's true that you've seen him worse.

"doesn't mean it wasn't bad at all," you murmur in protest, but not with any force. you follow it with another kiss to his hairline. "think you'll be able to fall back asleep?"

he hums in confirmation. "i'll be fine. but what about you? your throat still bothering you? do you need some tea?"

you give him a hum of your own, but it's not really an answer, just a little noise in response to how sweet he is, always more concerned for you than anyone else. your voice comes out as a grumble, "i think it's getting worse," you admit, "some tea might be a good idea, since i'm awake. i'll get it myself though, you go back to sleep. i'll be quiet."

a huff of air leaves his nose, tickling your neck. "you're funny," is all he says, like it's preposterous to suggest that he go to bed while you make yourself tea. he's too much of a gentleman to let you do that, but you also feel his hold on you tighten, just a bit. he doesn't want to be alone, even just for a few minutes. there is no comfort in being alone in the dark.

you retort with a gentle, "you're right, i'm hilarious. c'mon. since i'm letting you make me tea, it had better be good." he sits up with you, one of his hands still on your waist. his fingers slide to your lower back as you untangle yourself from him and the sheets, and he follows suit right after. he pads through the hallway behind you, overtaking you in the doorway into the kitchen with his hand brushing over the small of your back again before opening the cupboards for a mug.

he doesn't need to flip on a light because the blinds are open and the moon is bright tonight. so you watch him move through the shadowy room, preparing the tea that he knows you'll like the most right now. he makes a cup for himself too, liking the feeling on your eyes on him, never leaving.

the tea does a fine job of soothing your throat for the time being, and calms sweet sam's frayed nerves. he's had awful nightmares for as long as he can remember, but sometimes they're even more haunting now that his days are full of nice things. last week, you took a free ceramics class at the community center together. there's a few plant pots with herbs on the tiny fire escape balcony, and when you're not busy working to get better jobs, you sit and read novels that have nothing to do with hunting monsters.

your pinkies are linked across the little dining room table as steam rises from your mismatched mugs. the table is only outfitted for two, because you could only afford two chairs. that's alright, though, because you don't have anyone to invite over besides maybe the downstairs neighbors. but sam's starting to make friends with someone he volunteers at the library with, and unbeknownst to you, your bright friendliness is making your coworker want to hang out with you after your shared shifts. maybe you'll get a set of plastic chairs to use when there's guests.

꩜｡⋆

sometimes, loads of tea and vitamin supplements aren't enough to keep a nasty cold at bay. despite how nicely sam makes you several cups of tea a day, you're truly and fully ill now.

you're woken in a fit of fever, head fuzzy and cream-colored sheets sticking to you with sweat. for once, your body heat permeates more thickly than sam's, who always runs warm. an achy sigh leaves your parted lips, and your clumsy hands fight to push the plush comforter off your tired limbs.

your restless stirring wakes sam after a few moments, who props himself up on one elbow and runs a hand through his hair, immediately searching for the reason you're awake. his eyes adjust to the dark quickly to catch sight of the light, involuntary pout on your lips. before that even, his hand brushes over your upper arm and he feels the heightened heat of your skin.

"oh, baby," he whispers, reaching over to drape his palm carefully over your forehead. he doesn't have to say anything cliche, like 'you're burning up.' it's quite obvious on its own. he just pulls the thicker blanket from your body, but settles the sheet over you to prevent any chills. his thumb lightly brushes over your cheek. "that any better? i'm gonna get you some tylenol."

you only give a noncommittal hum, but he takes it as permission to leave you for just a moment. if you weren't so uncomfortable, you'd fall back asleep before he even got back. instead, you lay there, senselessly missing him and too exhausted to move.

he returns with tylenol as promised, along with a glass of water and a cool, damp rag. he sets the pills and glass down and carefully settles the rag over your forehead, earning a soft sigh of satisfaction from you. underneath the fabric, the furrow between your brows lessens just a bit. with all the gentleness in the world, he slips his hands under your head to tilt it up and brings the lip of the glass to your mouth. you drink as wordlessly instructed. he sets the water down for a moment and replaces it with one of the two pills. your lips part when he brings it to your mouth, then the cool glass is touching your skin again. both pills go down just fine, and he's settling your head back onto the pillows.

you fail to notice that he's brought the thermometer with him too until he asks you to open your mouth again. "just gonna take your temperature, honey," he murmurs softly. you give him no hassle, letting him tuck it underneath your tongue. when he pulls it out, he gives a little sigh. "definitely a fever, but it's not so bad," he tells you, taking your hand in his before pulling it up to his lips for a kiss to your knuckles.

"come back to bed," you grumble, giving him a weak tug.

"i think you'll get too warm," he protests kindly, "i'll just sit with you."

"there's no chair," you tell him, as if he doesn't know, "and i want you in bed with me. please?" you manage a little smile to try and convince him, looking sweet and tired and a little pitiful too, in the way that's so endearing it makes his heart hurt.

"i'm sorry, but i don't want to make your fever worse," he insists, voice still as gentle as it ever gets. "i'll bring a chair from the kitchen, okay?"

"but it's the middle of the night," you sigh, your smile slipping. it's too much effort to keep it there. "sleep with me."

"honey. it's already five in the morning. you know that's not too early for me," he says. it's true. in the past, sleeping until five would be a luxury for him. but you don't really care, and it's not the past anymore.

"you're crazy," you tell him, a little furrow settling between your brows.

"i know," he murmurs sympathetically, unfazed by your feverish accusation.

"it's too early for me," you complain. "won't you come back to bed with me? please?" of course, sam has known this entire time that he'd never beat you. it's just a matter of how many times he can deny you before he inevitably caves to your pretty eyes and hoarse voice. your soft 'please' has him ready to wave the white flag for peace; you're going to tear out his heart at this rate. but then your voice quiets even further, like you don't quite want to be heard despite the fact that you need to be understood. "i want you to hold me."

in the blink of an eye, he's kissing your cheek with a soft sort of determination. he doesn't even move a full inch away before he's whispering, "okay. alright, it's alright. i'll hold you. don't worry." then, his long limbs are slipping back under the covers and curling around you until you're settled on his chest, one hand still holding the cool rag over your forehead and your head carefully tilted so you can breathe easier.

he soaks up your heat, and the bottom sheet grows practically damp with your combined sweat. but he doesn't mind one bit, because you fall back asleep, looking far more comfortable and contented than before, for a while.

eventually, he does have to untangle himself from you because a frown settles on your lips and you turn restless in his arms again. he refreshes the cool compress to dab away your sweat and press to your hot skin. after a moment, he decides to prepare a second one for the back of your neck, and maneuvers everything so gently that you never wake until your body decides it must have water.

you wake with a little moan that he'd find sweet were it not an indication of your discomfort. he gets you more water, then lulls you back to sleep with his touch until it's time for another dose of tylenol.

꩜｡⋆

this moan is sweet, still hoarse and quiet, but only from sleep rather than sickness. your sounds start as little huffs of breath, a sigh here or there as his hands trace down your body and tug at your underwear, soft and quiet as to not wake you right away. he wants you to wake to the feeling on his lips on your hot, wet skin.

you most certainly do wake to that, a soft moan escaping your lips as your body gains awareness and your mind catches up to it. sam hums into your sensitive pussy as he feels you rouse, his hands gently holding your legs apart. he gives your thighs a sweet squeeze, then wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, softly at first to pull another noise from your lips.

he's easily successful, a quiet grunt leaving your lips as your tired arms reach down for some sort of contact with him. aside from his face buried in your cunt, of course. one hand finds purchase in his hair and the other curls around three of his fingers, holding his hand there against your thigh. your hips squirm as his tongue laves over you, your movements sluggish with sleep.

"sam," you sigh, out extra sensitive after just waking up and too tired to have complete control of your body. you're not loud, but you're noisy, letting out sweet and unfiltered sounds almost every time you breathe out. he gets more insistent the longer you're awake, letting his hunger and desperation show. his grip on you tightens, and his nose bumps relentlessly against your clit as he eats you out like he'd swallow you whole if he could.

the pleasure is overwhelming, overpowering, and you can't seem to keep a steady grip on him. your hands are still weak with sleep, so you continuously tangle and untangle your fingers in his hair, torn between pushing him away so you can breathe and pulling him closer so that the feeling will never stop.

"jesus," you groan, "please!"

"i got you," he mumbles, quickly so he doesn't have to stray from his task for long at all. "so good. so good for me, you taste so good."

"y-you couldn't.. hahh, help yourself, could you?" you pant out, eyes squeezed shut.

"never," he agrees before giving your clit a suck that tugs your back from the bed and pulls an extra pretty whine out of you.

"fuck," you sigh, "mmm, feels so good. please, sammy." really, you're not begging for anything other than for him to keep going exactly as he is, and and you know he has no plans to do anything but that. he loves this just as much as you do, possibly more. he's a damn addict, so much so that it wakes him up in the middle of the night.

the way he sweetly strokes the inside of your thigh with his fingertips is an easy contrast to the way his mouth moves against you, shameless and ravishing. your hips buck up into his face and your feet scramble for purchase on his hips to try and stay grounded. your thighs tremble with the effort, and sam moans right into you, beyond obsessed with the way you sound when you're sleepy and desperate and overwhelmed like this. it's no wonder he can't help but wake you like this sometimes, you sound like heaven, look like heaven as his eyes adjust to the dark and a sliver of moonlight finds its way into the room.

he gives you everything you need and takes everything he wants all at once, sending you over the edge with a sweet hum and relentless tongue. you clutch him close for a moment of hot ecstasy that may have lasted forever, then sag like a rag doll into the sheets. like always, he can't resist breathing you in, deep and long, and giving one last swipe of his tongue that sends a shudder up your spine.

your eyes flutter open and closed, exhausted by the pleasure and an already tired body. you swear you're still half-asleep, but in the way that you feel like you're floating, mind and body all fuzzy, soft, and satisfied. he stays tucked between your legs, sleepy too, despite being the one who was so ravenous in the first place. his head rests on your thigh, one hand still holding yours, and the other drawing stars over your hip bone.

he presses a kiss to your sweaty skin, his soft as ever and wet with your slick. "i love you," he whispers, "sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night." it's not the first time he's woken you like this, and you certainly hope it's not the last.

"i love you too," you murmur back, voice still raspy. "it's okay. love it when you wake me up like that. feels so good, every time. you're so pretty." you say that last part for no reason at all, other than it being true.

sam feels like blushing. "you're so pretty," he retorts quietly.

"thanks," you smile softly. to him, you shine like the sun, even in the dead of night. you're such a wonderful accompaniment to the moon, he thinks.

꩜｡⋆

neither the moon nor the sun show themselves much during the winter months. it tends to be quite cloudy here. the cold, on the other hand, is pervasive. and you and sam have discovered the horrors of having a landlord who's doing everything he can to avoid paying to fix your unreliable heating system. since it's not completely dysfunctional, he is most definitely stalling.

until it is completely dysfunctional, an issue that is made known to you at about 3:47 in the morning. the first thing you think is that sam must've accidentally stolen all of the blankets like he does sometimes. they'll get wrapped around his long legs, he'll roll over, and the whole plush comforter will go with him, leaving you exposed to the night air. but when you blindly reach for the blanket, you find that it's still snugly laid over you. that's when you begrudgingly open your eyes in confusion. your fingers are cold. the tip of your nose is honest-to-god freezing. and your feet. your poor, poor feet that have slipped out from the blankets and been left for dead in the cold air.

you're not the type to get grumpy. but you are now. you tuck your feet in and curl up against sam's back, seeking out his warmth. but it's too cold to ignore, so you shake sam's shoulder.

"sam, wake up," you groan, cursing his inconsistent sleeping style. sometimes he's the lightest, worst sleeper out there. other nights, he's impossible to wake. as he grows more accustomed to living a safer life, he gets more of those nights where he sleeps like a fallen log. you shake him again and he wakes with a grumble.

"what is it?" he asks as soon as he's awake enough to speak, voice gravelly. "god, it's freezing." he sits up groggily and immediately regrets it. you regret it too, because it leaves more of you exposed too. you chase after him, tucking yourself under his arm and against his chest.

"i think the heating gave out, like really gave out," you complain, trying to steal his body heat. he wraps his arms around you without any qualm, rubbing up and down your arms in attempts to warm you. he knows you get colder than he does most of the time.

"no kidding," he mumbles, pressing an absentminded kiss to the top of your head. "i'll get the space heater and hopefully that'll be enough until the morning." the light annoyance in his voice is indicative of what he plans to do in the morning. that is, call the landlord and demand he gets the heating fixed right away. it's not like the two of you have anywhere else to go without traveling farther than you'd like to. it pains you to let sam untangle himself from you, but the promise of more warmth is enough for you suffer without him for just a few minutes.

he returns with the space heater that you keep in the living room. the bedroom is usually warmer when you keep the door shut, but tonight, that makes no difference. he plugs the heater in, as close to the bed as he can at a safe distance, then wraps the blanket from the couch around your shoulders before climbing back onto the mattress.

despite the cold, you smile at him sweetly and contentedly as he gives you the extra blanket. he's so easy to be in love with.

he anticipates the way that you tuck yourself into him the moment he's laying down with you. and it's not as if he doesn't want you in his arms as much as you do, so he most certainly welcomes it. he settles one hand on the back of your head and pulls you close until your nose brushes against the soft skin of his neck. one of your legs sneaks between his, and he hooks his ankle with yours.

"i guess this is what it's like to have normal people problems, huh?" you whisper, your breath fanning over his neck. he'd love to kiss you senseless right now, but he's too tired and he's pretty sure you are too.

"yeah," he sighs, sounding relieved. "yeah. beats… beats the other stuff."

"even though it's really, really cold," you agree, smiling. he can hear the smile in your voice.

"even though it's really, really cold," he echoes. "it'll warm up."

he's right. this sort of thing passes. it gets better. the space heater serves its purpose, eventually warming the little bedroom enough that you can fall back asleep. the tile floor of the kitchen is hell in the morning, of course, and you spend the rest of the day in the library together after convincing the landlord to have everything fixed.

the weather warms too, and the relentless cloudiness fades into bright blue spring mornings. the blinds are always left closed on friday nights so that the rising sun won't wake you early on saturday mornings. it's been a blessing. sam still wakes up early sometimes, but sometimes he sleeps in late with you.

no alarms go off this morning; you and sam were up late last night watching a movie you found at the library. he really prefers vhs movies, but he'll settle pretty easily for cds. vhs is too hard to find these days, which is a shame. after the movie, you stayed up much later than intended, sprawled in bed while discussing the movie in depth. it was the sort of movie that was easy to watch, entertaining and pretty, but thought-provoking all the same. maybe it's because the mundane is something so special to you and sam that you could talk about it forever.

the blinds don't block out all the light, especially when it's so sunny like it is now. but it makes waking gentler and kinder while still letting you love the light of the morning.

gentle really is the right way to describe how you wake this morning. there's nothing particularly special about it, but that's what's so lovely. it's just a breath in, then a breath out and the fluttering of eyelids. it's a moment of peace, but the moment never ends. there's no threat of monsters or a hunt or the end of the world.

there's just sam and his heavy arm wrapped around your waist, grounding you, keeping you near him. there's sunlight on the white wall and a green plant in the corner of the room. pillows and blankets you call your own, a stuffed armchair, and a closet of clothes. sam wears sweaters and tshirts and sometimes even slacks rather than jeans these days. you can't stop telling him how handsome he looks when he's comfortable.

you don't move for a little while, and you let your eyes fall closed again. maybe you fall back asleep, maybe not. it doesn't really matter. nothing really matters, nothing but this. even if there's things like rent and jobs and a leaky sink. they don't have to matter until later.

then, because you're hopelessly in love, you open your eyes when they start to feel less heavy with sleep and turn to look at sam. there's no slight frown on his lips, no furrow to his pretty brows. he's content, he's safe, he's not so afraid anymore. if you were to count your blessings, his happiness would be the first thing to come to mind.

his body lets him rest without worry. staying up to talk about movies for fun is allowed now. it has no consequence, outside of a yawn or two while washing the dishes. but he gets to sleep in for as long as he'd like today.

maybe it's your staring that finally wakes him. the weight of your gaze, heavy with affection. the first thing he does when roused back into consciousness is smile. soft and sleepy and delighted to see you. then he kisses you. it would be without warning if he weren't moving so slowly. but you're ready for him, happy to have him.

this morning, he is insistent on having you close, so the moment his lips are no longer on yours, his arms are wrapping around your middle and holding you tight. he pulls you into him with a quiet grunt.

"good morning, sweetheart," he rumbles softly, lips brushing over the skin of your temple.

"good morning, love," you murmur back, voice just as sweet as his.

"i love you so much," he tells you, hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

of course, you answer, "i love you, too. so much." his hand slips under your shirt, like you'll never be close enough, and touching your skin will make it better. you huff in protest and arch against him just a bit. his fingers are cold, but only for a moment. then you're melting into him and sighing in contentment.

"the weather's supposed to be nice. like yesterday. we could walk to the park," you whisper.

"later," he answers simply, ducking his head to press his nose to yours, then kiss the skin under your eye. "let's just lay here a while.

you can't help but grin. "okay. later." you kiss his cheek and he smiles back, then closes his eyes again. the smile stays on his face and you think that maybe he's never looked more beautiful than he does now.

"i love you," you say again, because you just have to.

he hums softly and his other hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips pushing gently into the plush of your lower back. "i love you," he echoes.

nothing aches, not right now. there's growing pains and old scars and sores that will never really go away. but in this moment, nothing aches save for the kind of ache that love gives. and it's a lovely sort of ache. the kind that could make your eyes all misty in the happy way. like you're so grateful to be where you are that it almost hurts.

magic is real. so are monsters and gods and demons and angels. but this moment is a miracle in a way that it has nothing to do with that sort of thing. it's simple and normal and maybe you've romanticized it because of the way you lived before. but you don't think that's such a bad thing. living like this with sam… it's natural.

[k3nz1ekorn]

A Cabin in the Woods

Summary: super short post-canon Jayvik fluff based on what Harry Lloyd said in the Q&A today about them living happily in a cabin in the woods.

Can be read as a stand alone or as a continuation of Real or Not Real.

word count: 1,472

A/N: I know it's not the actor's au but the writers block has been going crazy recently, it's in the works though!

The sun was shining through the windows, bright light flooding Viktor and Jayce as they lay in bed in their little cabin. It wasn’t much, but then again they didn’t need much anymore. They had a small kitchen by the front door, and a little table for then they decided to make food. They didn’t have any of their previous bodily needs anymore; eating, using the bathroom, they were all just things of the past. They had a bathroom for cleaning themselves of course, having a simple sink and shower. There was a large cat tree by the couch, a wall of all their favorite books, ones from their own reality as well as recommendations they’d gotten in other ones. Their bed was large, situated on the farthest wall of the two room cabin, and surrounded by nightstands on either side to hold their respective braces when they slept. 

They still had their disabilities, though they hadn’t shown up for quite some time, and neither was sure exactly how it all worked. How they could not have bodily functions but still having their physical issues. That was a discovery for a later date though, at least it became one once they figured out there was no danger of further injury or death.

It was decidedly a lazy day for them, the arcane had made the decision to leave them be it seemed and they would never turn down the chance to bask in the calm of their little pocket dimension. 

When the rune had exploded they had both thought themselves dead, and it had been a long process for them to come to terms with two very daunting truths. 

One, they weren’t gone, at least not their souls. They had initially floated in the nothingness they’d first been spat out in, and through time and effort they’d been able to figure out a way to spawn all this. They’d created a little world for themselves, a forest, with a waterfall, a little stream, meadows, even a forge and lab to tinker in during times like this. The limits of their physical location and surroundings were about as open and endless as the realm itself. They could be whoever they wanted, whatever they wanted.

That brings us to the second truth they’d had to come to terms with.

They were in love.

When they had first materialized they had just held each other, too afraid they would disappear, that they would drift apart and wouldn’t be able to get back to the other. Then they had talked. It was a conversation that at the time felt like far too much too fast. They had barely accepted that they were still conscious, nevermind together, and yet they still needed closure. Needed to be sure, finally certain, that their feeling had been requited. 

After that they’d held each other just to be held. Just to love like they hadn’t been able to in life.

“Coming back to me anytime soon?” Jayce’s voice broke Viktor’s train of thought and he turned his head to face his partner.

“Just reminiscing, that's all.” 

Viktor was on his back, one arm laid across his stomach and the other bent up to hold Jayce’s hand, the arm of which was tucked under his pillow. Jayce was beside him, of course, turned on his side with his other hand tracing patterns along Viktor’s face and neck, absently tracing over the moles there.

“‘Bout what?”

Viktor thought for a moment, his eyes holding the beautiful golden ones on the face in front of him.

“You love me…real or not real?”

A look of recognition crossed his lover's face and a soft smile melted over his face. They had done this when they were first spat out, and many times since when the nightmares and flashbacks got to be too much. The hand tracing over him came to a stop, moving to cup Viktor’s cheek.

“Real. Always real.” They stayed like that a moment before Jayce continued, he always felt the need to when Viktor asked that question. “There’s not a version of me out there that doesn’t love you, you’ve seen it firsthand.”

This was true, of course. The arcane made sure of that. When it chose to, it would scoop them up and spit them out in some random dimension, with new versions of themselves each time. 

In one they were nemeses, Viktor having gone the machine route instead of the magic route when his body had started to fail him. In this universe he’d augmented himself almost entirely, being made of mostly wires and cogs, leaving only small bits of flesh on his face and mid-section area. Jayce held the title ‘Defender of Tomorrow’ here, and unfortunately he was defending their tomorrow from Viktor.

But they still loved each other. 

In another, Viktor had been executed, having made a deal with death to come back from the afterlife. This Jayce opposed him as well, fighting him constantly in the hopes he would not be able to enact his version of the ‘Glorious Evolution.’

And yet they still loved each other.

In one they weren’t working as scientists at all, weren’t even in Runeterra, in this universe they were all actors on a show! They went by new names, acting out the events that had happened in their home timeline, all while dealing with their own complex lives.

When they had been dropped in this dimension, these versions of them had already been together for months it seemed.

His favorites, of course, were the versions that were just…them. 

The timelines and realities where they had met under different circumstances at the academy, where they had figured it all out sooner, ones where Jayce was expelled, where Viktor hadn’t been in the explosion, where they hadn’t been completely and utterly oblivious.

Where they got to love each other in peace, in life.

“I’ll always love you V…I’m meant to.” Jayce leaned in to plant a kiss on Viktor’s upper lip, on Jayce’s favorite mole. He spoke again when he pulled back. “My turn, yeah?”

Viktor let out a soft chuckle and rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I suppose I will let you go next.” He focused back on Jayce, noticing the teasing look that had overtaken him.

“You would still choose me, if we could go back and do it all again. Real, or not real”

Viktor let softness overtake his eyes, emotions welling up in his chest, threatening to burst out of it. 

“Real. I believe I said it best in fact,” he cleared his throat for dramatic effect before continuing,”…in all timeline, in all possibilities…only you Jayce. Only you can make me understand…the beauty in everything. And…just so you know, I like to know that there’s at least one universe in which we get to fight about normal things like taxes and you not taking the chicken out of the freezer.” He snorted to himself at the last part as he watched Jayce sigh and roll over onto his own back. The hand that had been on Viktor’s face pulled back to pinch the bridge of Jayce’s nose in annoyance

“I knew you’d bring that up- that wasn’t even my fault! That Jayce got distracted!”

“Yes, distracted fucking his Viktor, who I’m sure would have been willing to break for you to defrost the chicken.” Viktor sat up onto his elbows now, turning to face the other, that same fond smile growing. “My point, Jayce,” Viktor pulled Jayce’s hand off his face, holding over the other’s warm scarred chest, “is that I like to know we aren’t always doomed. That somewhere out there we got it right on our own, without interference from…us.”

Jayce let his eyes find Viktor’s again.

They were both pulled from their thoughts as they felt a being hop up onto the bed with them, letting out a soft meow at the lack of attention.

“Why hello there Blitzcrank, are you here for chin scratches?” Jayce said as he moved their shared hands to pet over the cat.

They’d figured out along the way that they could create beings in this pocket dimension of theirs. Blitz had been their first, an accident really, but soon after came Rio, and then Amaranthine. They kept them company when they were here, and they kept each other company when they weren’t. They didn’t need to be fed so they were the perfect pets for a couple of traveling souls like themselves. “I believe that is our sign that it’s time to be productive.” Viktor sat all the way up, stretching out as he did so and letting a pop echo from his spine. “I would like to go study cells while I can, and you have been complaining all week about no forge time. Get to it pretty boy.”

A/N: after this they do create a robot Blitzcrank, their fourth child, and name him ‘Blitzcrank II’

[niktheniknik]

Sonadow fankids i made :) i have some pen on paper sketches of them as newborns but dunno if i wanna post them yet

More thoughts and alternative Spiral designs under the cut ↓

Spiral was the first one i designed and i very much like the idea, but now atfter making the twins, Spiral's design seems the odd one out here and I'm thinking of redesigning them again. I mostly don't like the pallet, as i was struggling between a half and half light/dark tones and mostly light tones. Making them intersex was an easy choice since i hc shadow as intersex, i mean he is an ultimate life form after all, so like father like child.

The twins were so easy, it scared me actually. When i learned that hedgehogs can birth from 1 to 7 hoglets i just knew there had to be at least twins after Spiral. Then i remembered that albinos exist and i also didn't remember seeing any albino fankids/sonicsonas/ocs, so i decided to make one. First i thought making them boy/girl twins as it's the most common type of twins, but then i thought, "hey i don't have any trans characters yet and as i don't hc sonic as trans this is a great idea", so Snow is transfem!

In my sketches of them as kids i (and sonadow too) refer to Snow as he/him since she doesn't break the egg until like 8 y/o. Also yeah Astera's quills are very messy and they get better as she grows up, she's also the strongest one of all the siblings! Snow being the weakest since her albinism gives her some health problems, especially as a kid, sonadow were very worried about her and became a lil bit over protective

Also yeah all of the kids have unnaturally long tails, i just thought it would be neat

Spiral's alternative colors! The "final" design is a combination of both of these

[alynnia]

Daughters of Deepspace

THIS IS A LONG ONE. I have a habit of smashing ships I like together and designing what their kids look like. It started with just Sylus x MC but then I decided to do the rest and my mind began producing story ideas and I...got carried away. They're still all over the place. I want to do more with Dove in particular and have written a lot for her on the side, another post just about her eventually, but this post are just some summaries. Her situation in particular is extra angst because for some reason, I enjoy giving my favorites the toughest struggles. Names may or may not change. Made the designs in Life Makeover and I couldn't get the right shade for Pomme's hair color so pretend it matches Caleb lol. I wish there was a male equivalent because I would have made sons too.

I also like to give them problems. Not all of their lives are 100% happy and they have issues to deal with. One of them may or may not potentially be a villain.

Polaris

☆Energetic in contrast to her father, bubbly and curious to the point it gets her into trouble. Very "What does this button do? " type of character.  Her hobbies are sewing, plush making and being a professional crane game master. Her room is absolutely covered in plushies and comfortable enough that Xavier would fall asleep when reading her stories. In school she does decently, a social butterfly but some students are exhausted by her. Has two best friends and a boy with an obvious crush on her she is oblivious to. 

☆Relationship with father: Adores him. Her energy is too much for him to handle and she doesn't realize it. Always hanging on him, tugging on his sleeve, jumping onto his back and the poor man just wants to nap after work. Polaris follows him around and even pops up sometimes while he’s at work. When he’s too deep into an investigation and can’t get her back home, Xavier will continue with her tagging along being extremely careful she doesn’t get hurt. Though she does help him with her time evol. Around others, Polaris will brag about her father in a " My dad can beat your dad" kind of way and will get into fights over it. Once she gets a little brother, her attention shifts from Xavier to him, becoming the ever doting sibling.

☆Evol: Time. In short bursts she can speed up and slow down time making her appear to be faster than she is. As a combatant, she's able to plant traps and bombs while she's slowed everything down. There’s a limit to this as she can only do it a handful of times a day. The Hunters Association are eager to recruit her but her overly curious nature would need to be settled first since it causes problems. Perhaps if she was partnered with someone who has Resonance like her mother, she might actually be able to time travel.

☆Weapon: She's trained with a sword but she prefers explosives that are cute and shaped like animals. She finds them to be beautiful and fun ever since she was little. It started with firecrackers and Xavier's light illusions and as she grew it expanded from there. She mainly uses them as distractions but in a darker setting she might use them directly. When it comes to her swordsmanship, she learned from the best of course, her parents.

☆What is MC up to: A hunter captain. Polaris keeps tabs on who she interacts with for Xavier. After she has her second child she quits and stays home 

☆Her story: Something bad happens to her little brother and it's her fault. After this incident the family just isn’t the same and MC has gone into a depressive state she tries to hide. Polaris desperately tries to find a way to turn back time and undo but when she does find a way it may come at a greater cost, if it even works.

Jasmine

◇ Well behaved perfectionist honor student. She carries herself with grace, poise and a favorite of teachers and elderly. She has an interest in gardening, having her own garden of flowers and medicinal plants in the yard and flowers growing near her window in her room. They all are special to her, her “friends” that she chats with. Another hobby of hers is dancing, particularly ballet which she takes VERY seriously, correcting her dance partners to an annoying degree. Like her father, she's a workaholic. If she’s not studying, she’s practicing dance and if she’s not dancing she’s tending to her garden and if she’s not doing that, she’s researching. She will however, always make time for her parents. In school she has casual acquaintances but no real friends as she's far too busy to form meaningful relationships with others which raises concern with Zayne and MC. Another reason she doesn't have friends is because she also holds others to higher standards and when they are not met, she dismisses them. Warm on the outside but a cold nature within. Strict and blunt.

◇Relationship with father: Professional. She wants to excel past his expectations. She has it in her head that she has to be perfect which ends up stressing her out. Zayne worries since he sees so much of himself in her and doesn’t want her to miss out on the simple things in life but Jasmine is the type who insists she is perfectly fine and holds herself together until she bursts into a fit of rage in private. She hates that about herself, finding these emotions to be "tiresome". It would only weaken the family name and she can't let her parents down, especially her father. She has to be better than this no matter what. I can see her finding out about that suppression chip and willingly putting it into herself in secret.

◇Evol: “Healing” (Rapid cell generation) Jasmine loves her evol and is eager to use it whenever she can. She sees it as a way to emulate her father as she wants to become a doctor too to help her mother. She's well studied in biology to help aid her skill since her healing is simply speeding up the natural process. So needing to know how a limb should be set and where an organ should be is important less she causes more harm. Though, she does have the capability to use it offensively. Say she breaks the leg of an enemy she could heal it incorrectly on purpose, permanently hindering them. Or do it over and over again to get them to talk. She could have a career in (twisted) interrogation.

◇Weapon: None. She's not been trained by her parents as they wanted a peaceful life for her and believe that they are more than capable of protecting her themselves and keeping her from any situations where she would need to fight. That doesn't mean she's helpless as where she lacks in combat she makes up for in cunning (and manipulation). Jasmine also has an extensive knowledge in poisons and drugs, plants she is not allowed to grow but has a secret location where she does anyway. Later down the line, if she were to use resonance with someone to amplify her Evol, she could potentially use her "healing" to cause diseases. Rapid generation of cells can cause some very deadly results.

◇Her Story: With the chip implanted in her, she unknowingly becomes a puppet for an organization. The chip was off market and had been tampered with, perhaps former Ever scientists had something to do with it. Jasmine comes to find that there are gaps in her memory and a new mysterious disease is on the rise with certain individuals...

Pomme

♤Athletic tomboy. Her hobbies are working out, playing basketball, surviving her brothers and playing hero. She's physically the strongest of the girls. Having three older brothers, she knows how to hold her own against others and has a protective nature. It's every man for themselves in this household when the parents aren't around and being the smallest one, she’s in the trenches. She does average in school and is a popular basketball player, having her own fan club. She enjoys tinkering with mechanics, a fascination started by watching and helping maintain her father's arm and has put together little contraptions to protect her space and things from her brothers. She sees herself as a protector of the weak, a big sister to those younger than her and will beat up bullies for them. She wants to become a hunter like her mother so she can continue protecting people.

♤Relationship with father: Best friends and one sided rivalry. Caleb is strict with his sons but has a soft spot for his only daughter, telling the boys they need to do everything in their power to protect her...which causes some sibling aggression. They do love their little sister but sometimes the favoritism gives them a reason to pick on her when mom and dad aren’t looking. Pomme insists that she be held to the same standards as her brothers and Caleb keeps saying he does but he always ends up going soft on her which leads her to constantly trying to prove herself to him. So she sets traps with her mechanics, throws a kick and punch here and there that he blocks on instinct and does her best to try and out perform her brothers just to show him how strong she is. Caleb finds it adorable but shifts into colonel mode when things start to get out of hand. You can be sure she has no suitors either. Her brothers are on strict orders to tear up and scare away anyone that appears to show romantic interest in her and sometimes, Caleb himself will step in. She’s also not allowed to have a boyfriend until she’s 80.

♤Evol: None. She's the only one in her family without one leaving her to feel inadequate. Her brothers have air, earth and magnetism but Pomme? Nothing. She does however, know exactly the capabilities of her brothers and if ever in a situation where they are all fighting together, she is the one commanding them like a Pokémon trainer and laying out the strategies. " Alex! Ryan! Attack pattern B! Simon! You're on defense! " (About the names…they’re placeholders. Tempted to name them after the chipmunks but I will hold back.)

♤Weapon: Guns taught by her parents and unarmed, mostly grappling that she learned from dealing with her brothers trying to escape headlocks and being tossed around. She’s able to match the middle one (Ryan), can take down the youngest(Simon) but the eldest brother(Alex) is the final boss tier.

♤What MC is up to: Is finally back to work as a Hunter now that her children are older but has slowed down a bit. Each of them are about a year or two apart and she swears she’s going to get Caleb fixed one of these days.

♤Her Story: In an effort to save someone’s life, she ends up in an accident leaving her legs paralyzed. She's devastated as the one thing she felt she had going was her athletic ability and now she’s limited. She wasn't going to let that stop her so she wanted mechanical limbs like her father. Caleb didn’t like the idea at first, not wanting her going through the same pain and lack of feeling but after a long argument/discussion and making sure she is aware of the consequences he finally gives in. After getting her metal legs, they performed better than her normal ones. She didn’t care that she lost feeling other than pain during maintenance, the power was addictive. She wanted to be able to do more and began working on limb enhancers for her arms, body and eventually create a suit (similar to the ones in Bubblegum Crisis 2040) and essentially become a vigilante as a way to be the hero she wants to be. It starts off small, righteous, taking out petty criminals and saving cats from trees but over time the power gets to her head and she starts hunting bigger prey. Who needs Evol when she's got this?

Ariel

♡Ariel is creative just like her father and applies it to fashion in interesting ways. Seashell skirts, literal flaming dresses (That caused a small fire), coral hair clips, protocore bedazzled tops(expensive af), and driftwood hats (That still had creatures living in it). She makes just as much of a mess as Rafayel thus, she's given her own warehouse to work on her ideas. Sometimes his materials will go missing and it's likely because she "borrowed" them. In school, she excels in everything but sports due to being sickly and easily exhausted so she has to stay home most days. She was born with a weak body and can't handle physical activity for too long, including swimming. In the water, after about a few minutes Ariel just sinks like a rock. She can breathe underwater so she just finds herself laying on the seafloor. Staring up. Contemplating her "worthiness" of being her father's daughter and her Lemurian heritage.

♡Relationship with father: She has him wrapped around her finger. She's never in trouble for very long under him, as much as he likes to think he can keep her in check, all she has to do is give him The Look and he buckles. So she is very spoiled and will act over dramatically along with him giving their mother quite the show but mother doesn't let it slide making her the main disciplinary figure of the house. When it comes to anything Lemurian related she retreats within her proverbial shell. Ariel loves the stories of Lemuria, happy to hear them first hand from her father and visit exhibits about it but due to her weak constitution she thinks there was a mistake. Rafayel however, constantly calls her a princess of the sea, the rightful future ruler of the ocean and all should bow before his little girl! There’s so many paintings of her and her mother, intimidating her. He can’t stop doting on her which she finds embarrassing but the affection makes her even more self-conscious. If they ever had another child, would he stop loving her this much? (The answer of course is no, but she doesn’t know that)

♡Evol: Water. With resonance could probably lead into blood-bending but the sheer amount of power that would entail could be very dangerous for her.

♡Weapon: None, she just uses water but it exhausts her. She can also communicate with fish and they can help her sometimes. She’s only been in a dangerous situation with others once and that was a kidnapping for ransom money. She was quickly saved and the kidnappers were never to be found again but since then she’s got her own bodyguard that’s to be with her at all times. Maybe that bodyguard has a kid her age. Maybe her and that kid get along. Maybe that peer dedicates themselves to be her shield. Maybe a crush develops. 

♡What MC is up to: Stay at home bodyguard/mom that helps keep an eye on Ariel and her condition. She sometimes seeks out the thrill of being a hunter again but for the most part stays with her girl. ♡Her Story: She sees herself as a burden and is willing to do anything to “no longer cause trouble” for her parents. So she wants to make a journey, run away with the bodyguard’s kid to seek out a legend to “fix” her. They try to talk her out of it but she’s far too determined and so they prepare along with her, ready to follow.

Dove

♧Dove is a difficult, troubled youth. She's got quite the temper, gets into fights on a near weekly basis as a show of dominance and 'territory' claims, and a delinquent due to skipping school. She does have some of the best grades when she actually applies herself, but math and science are her worst subjects. When she does come to school, classmates are either afraid of her or looking to fight her to prove themselves. She doesn’t always win these fights, but when she loses the opponent tends to end up transferred or apologizing the next day through their teeth. Dove hates this. Her passion is singing, taking an interest in rock and metal, screaming in her room as she writes her own music. Sylus has gotten used to it, “ The little dragon is practicing her roars.”  She sucks at crane games but enjoys the challenge even if she keeps getting kicked out for kicking the machine. Always sneaking out of the house but it's rarely actual "sneaking" since Sylus always knows what she's up to and where she is. Where she goes varies. Sometimes old abandoned warehouses just to hang out and watch the going ons of the N109 Zone, sometimes to pick fights with thugs and sometimes the ��old shopkeeper” to watch him work and to hear stories about her mother.

♧Relationship with father: Complicated. Her mother died in her time not long after she was born which caused Sylus to be distant. He still cared for her but the severing of half his soul and his daughter’s face being a constant painful reminder took some time to come to terms to. She's able to do what she wants, can have anything and he's even trained her in use of guns and fighting, he's still seemingly cold to her. Yet he's always got an eye on her. Be it the twins, mephisto, the tracking bracelet, no matter where she goes he always knows where she is and quick to appear if need be and this frustrates her to no end. She wants to escape his watchful eye and everyone bowing to her whim. She doesn't want the world to be handed to her, she wants to take it herself. The two do have bonding moments, such as he may have not-so “accidentally” taught her draconic which now leads them to having full private conversations in it (In the full post I have about her I’ll post what I imagine it sounds like but basically the FFXIV dragon speak), and while training together it’s her chance to vent out her frustrations and anger on him.

Evol: “None” as far as she knows up until a certain point. Due to who her mother is and her connection with the deepspace tunnel, there was a rare chance an offspring of hers would gain the ability of Planeswalker but only in relation to her mother. With MC being her anchor point, she can hop to alternate realities. 

Weapon: Guns but she mostly uses martial arts or a bat.Improvised weapons are another skill of hers so she’ll use whatever she can get her hands on like a steel chair or a pencil. 

Her Story: For some reason, Dove has dreams about her mother and the past lives she’s lived. Bits and pieces of it. She doesn’t think all that much of it until she starts seeing the men in these dreams that were with her. The famous artist, a well respected doctor, clippings of a co-worker of hers, a fleet colonel so she seeks them out. Upon meeting one of them, her Evol activates, flinging her into a different reality where her mother is alive and has a family with them and…meeting another girl who looks similar to her. Thus begins her journey of trying to find out more about her mom, meeting her alternate reality “sisters”, helping them with their problems while trying not to get caught and mend her relationship with her father. There may also be a common enemy who exists in each of their realities they have to deal with. 

Now I think many of us agree that Sylus should have twins. I also agree. I wonder what happened to them? Anyway, omg when Sylus finds out about Dove’s reality jumping he’s gonna want to join her so he can see MC again. Can he? Haven’t decided. Oh man and she’s with the other guys? AUuggh, it would be so bittersweet. And he’s already going to be on Dove’s ass about what the fuck is she doing talking with the other LaDs in their current reality and AKSAHDKAJHDSKH-

Sorry, I'm having too much fun with this too.

[milkteacrumblecake]

Hello it’s me I’m back at again, I hope you like my story! I been busy with life so I apologize for not posting. My work place having me work 16 hours shifts for 5 days straight. Then I got sick so I spent my two days off in bed, but I’m back and better than ever!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dirt I come from

As Adam's bone aches from waking up he rubs his back, curse to walk earth eternity to watch over humanity. Adam took Caine's place; he didn't want his boy to be alone to walk this earth. Adam still fulfilled his duty to populate humanity. Adam watched as Eve, his wife dying in his arms, tried to hold on, she didn’t want Adam to be all alone. Adam smiled and told Eve it was okay, he was fine he still had his children and grandchildren.

Before Eve closed her eyes and took her last breath one last time. Eve said her final words: “I love you Addie with all my heart and soul. Just to let you know that no matter what I find a way to free you from this curse.”

Adam smiled and held Eve in his arms and cried for what felt like hours. Adam buried Eve at their favorite spot, a willow tree. Where they spend time with their family and each other. As years pass one by one his children and grandchildren die and humanity progresses. Humanity forgot the first man only to hear about him briefly mentioned in the bible. Not even the Angels ever contacted Adam once he filled his purpose. Adam neither heard about Lucifer or Lilith since Eden when they got banished.

Adam had salt and pepper mix in his once brown hair. Adam gained some weight due to not worrying about food anymore. He still has his piercing gold eyes that hold so much wisdom. His skin once tan now pale with some wrinkles on it. Adam got up and got ready for today, Adam made him some coffee while grabbing his cane. And making his way towards his porch towards his rocking chair. Adam always enjoys the peaceful mornings, their quiet and gives him time to think.

Adam’s memory has been bad, but recently it has gotten worse. He can’t remember his loved ones, or their faces. Adam slowly forgetting who he is, his body is also getting worse. Cracks are beginning to form on his body, and he feels like he doesn’t have much time left. Having a routine is the only thing keeping Adam grounded, and not falling apart.

After Adam finished his coffee, he went back inside his house and grabbed his coat and frozen peas. Adam headed out of his house with his cane and frozen peas in hand. Adam decided since it was a beautiful fall day he was going to the park and feed his little friends the ducks. Adam made it to the park and went over to his favorite bench. Adam heard excited quakes as the ducks made their way towards him. As Adam was feeding the ducks, and enjoying the scenery around him. Then all of the sudden Adam heard a familiar voice. He couldn’t put his finger on it, has he heard that voice before? His memory is getting bad and he can't remember anything anymore.

A short man approaches him and excitedly yells with joy: Adam! I finally found you, it took me 9,000 years to look for you.

Adam noticed the man he was wearing a white suit with a pink and red pinstripe vest, with a black bow tie, and with a pair of black knee high boots. He looks almost like a circus ringmaster. With a wide brimmed white top hat with a golden snake and a red apple over a golden crown. The man has white skin with rosy-cheeks, short blonde hair, sharp teeth and eyes with light yellow sclera, though with red irises and blackened hands that look like claws.

Adam brows knitted and looked at the man curiously: I’m sorry do I know you, my memory going bad I can’t even remember well as I used to.

The short man stops in his tracks and looks at Adam with sadness in his eyes: Adam you don’t recognize me?

Adam looks at him for a moment and shakes his head no. Adam looks at the short man who looks like he was about to cry: No, but young man what’s your name?

Lucifer gave Adam a half-smile, and slowly walked towards him. Lucifer held out his hand: My name is Lucifer Morningstar, nice to meet you.

Adam shook his hand and patted the spot beside him on the bench: Nice to meet you Lucifer, would you like to join me to feed the ducks?

Lucifer nodded his head yes and sat beside Adam. Adam offered some peas to feed the ducks, and Lucifer took some in his hand. Lucifer begins to feed the ducks: What can you remember Adam?

Adam stared off to the distance, and his expression clouded up: I can only remember the last 5 years and I can’t even remember my age. I feel like I’m forgetting something very important.

Tears filled Lucifer's eyes, Lucifer gently took Adam’s hands and squeezed it reassuringly: It’s okay Adam, I can help you remember, now that I’m here.

Adam shook his head, and laughed. Adam rolled up his sleeves and showed Lucifer the cracks on his arms: I don’t think you can, I feel like I don’t have much time left. Look, the cracks on my body are beginning to break apart and turn into dust.

As Adam was about to roll down his sleeves, a new crack formed on Adam's face. Adam sighs and touches the new crack as dust falls off of the newly formed crack: It seems like my end is getting closer.

Lucifer begins to cry, realizing he may be too late to help Adam. Lucifer hugs Adam and Adam rubs his back: I’m sorry Adam I’m too late, if I got here sooner you wouldn’t be falling apart or losing your memory.

Adam smiles: It’s okay, it’s my time anyway even if you had come. I have a feeling it would end the same so it’s okay. But could you do me a favor and stay with me, I don’t want to be alone.

Tears are rolling down Lucifer rosy cheeks as he looks up at Adam with a forced smile and nodded: I stay with you Adam, I won’t leave you alone ever again I promise.

Adam squeezes Lucifer's hand while looking at him: Thank you, I may not remember you but I feel like I love you.

Lucifer eyes widen and more tears fall: I-I love you too Addie, even though I don’t deserve your love.

Adam smiles as the crack spreads across his face: You do too, Luci I have a feeling we might meet again someday.

Lucifer's body shakes as he starts to sob: I hope so Addie, I don’t want you to go.

Adam hugs Lucifer as he starts to rub his back, and starts to hum a melody from his memory he can’t seem to remember. As Lucifer starts to hug Adam he starts to fall apart as he was hugging him.

Lucifer panics as tears roll down his face, and starts to try to put Adam back together: No no no no please Addie, don’t leave me I just found you. I got so much to tell you, I don’t want you to die.

Lucifer holds on to Adam clothes close to his chest and starts to sob harder. Lucifer gathered the dust, and put it into a medium wooden box. With Adam's name, and sun flowers engraved into it. Lucifer blames himself for what happened. Lucifer went back to Hell and went into his manor. And Lock himself away forever regretting not choosing Adam instead of Lilith. Lucifer lost Adam forever, but he has a small spark of hope. Adam says they might meet again, and Lucifer hopes that is true.

~The End~

[bluecatwriter]

The kiss ficlets continue! Copied from an ask that had multiple submissions:

Your wish is my command! :) I decided to make it a post-canon fic featuring my ongoing desire to ship Jack/Mina/Jonathan.

(Send me a ship and a number and I'll write a kiss.)

(All kiss ficlets here)

A kiss... to gain something

Jack had been bustling around his small townhouse all day long, trying to make it look more presentable and less like the bachelor pad it was— and was rewarded when the Harkers arrived from Exeter, and Mina exclaimed with genuine delight, "Oh John, I love what you've done here!" It had been a rather bare apartment when he'd first moved in a month ago upon quitting his job at the asylum, but the Harkers visiting had given him ample motivation to make the whole house (and especially the bedroom) presentable.

After her compliment, Mina had greeted him with a quick kiss that have nevertheless left his legs wobbling, while Jonathan, as usual, stayed pleasant and a bit aloof. There was conversation to be had before bed, and Jack had made tea and bought some biscuits and laid them out in front of the hearth. He and Mina sat next to each other on the settee while Jonathan sat in the chair by the fire, and soon Jack and Mina fell into the animated conversation that had long marked their friendship. Soon she had him babbling about the ins and outs of his new job at the local hospital, which led naturally to the event that most excited him.

"I've been invited tomorrow to a luncheon, at which a very distinguished professor from Germany, Dr. Flechsig, will be presenting his latest findings in categorizing the cytoarchitecture of the human brain."

Mina tilted her head to the side, her eyes lighting up. "Cytoarchitecture… that's the study of cellular composition?"

"Of the central nervous system's tissues, yes. Forgive my jargon. Dr. Flechsig has been making amazing advancements in our understanding of the brain, and—"

Mina clapped her hands together, startling him. "Oh John, you must allow me to come along!" 

Jack paused mid-sentence, his train of thought derailed. "With me? I…" He shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, Mina, but this is a very exclusive lecture. It wouldn't do for me to bring an unexpected guest."

"We wouldn't make a scene. I would sit in a corner and not say a word. I could even transcribe the lecture so that you could refer to my notes later."

Jack balked at this, since she did make a good point. Still… "I apologize, but I simply can't. I am still fairly new to this circle of colleagues and it is enough of a stretch for them to invite me in the first place." 

Mina was staring at him with those big golden-brown eyes now; she had always had such a talent for looking appealing. But the mental image of him showing up to a lecture with an unexpected woman in tow was enough to make him shore up his strength; his will could be greater than hers, he told himself. 

"I'll be sure to tell you everything that I learn," he said, trying to soften the blow of the rejection, but now his voice wavered, because she had not relented in gazing at him.

"Please, John," she said, her voice now softer. "As a personal favor?"

He was suddenly and keenly aware of all the blood in his body. He cleared his throat. "I can't just bring…" His voice failed him when she leaned toward him, and he jerked his head to face forward, trying to ignore her nose brushing against his jaw. As if searching for a lifeline, he looked over at Jonathan, but Jonathan had picked up a scientific periodical lying on the end table and was leaned back in the chair, reading it studiously as if Jack and Mina were not in the room at all. Jack huffed and closed his eyes, wondering why he had even thought to look to Jonathan for help with saying no to Mina. 

"Mrs. Harker, I know what you are doing, and it will not work," he told her, trying to put all the firmness into his voice that he could muster, but despite this, his voice slightly trembled as he felt her lips mouthing softly along his ear. 

"And I," she said with a smile in her voice, right into his ear, "am politely asking you to reconsider." He felt her tongue trace the shell of his ear, followed by a soft kiss.

"Mina," he meant to say in a stern voice, but it came out as a whimper. She touched his chin and turned him to face her, their mouths teasingly close— all he would have to do was move his head forward an inch— but this would be conceding, and he— he— what was he so worried about? He couldn't remember.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, pressing him down into the settee and giving his mouth lavish attention with her tongue. When at last she pulled away, he gasped for air, every nerve in his body tingling with pleasure.

"So I'll go with you tomorrow, then?" Mina asked, smiling prettily.

Jack groaned, but felt too wobbly to sit up or even speak. Instead, he just half-nodded, making a vague sound of assent. 

Mina grinned, and Jack heard a chortling noise from Jonathan. But when he glanced over, Jonathan was still reading the scientific periodical, with only the tiniest smirk on his lips.

~~~

[tomnylover]

hi guys!!! part three of my little fic

hope you enjoy💗💗

Regulus just sat in silence puffing his cig and his mind began to wander- was Gryffindors golden boy queer? He debated inside his mind, his head whirring and his heart buzzing, maybe he had a chance.

No. He didn’t. Sirius got what Sirius wanted, and he never had to share. James was all for Sirius, every inch of his body belonged to Sirius, they were soulmates. Maybe not romantically, but they were each others twin flame.

He had made peace with this though; Regulus knew he was never going to have James the way everybody else did. It wasn’t possible, especially not with his plans for the summer. He only had 9 months left at Hogwarts, and he was going to get James for as much time as he could, even if it was just as a smoke-and-watch buddy.

As the minutes began to pass, Regulus heard a faint snore beside him. Of course James starboy Potter was asleep. But he looked so beautiful in this light, how could anyone not love him, adore him? Everything he did was with elegance, though not the average elegance, but the purity that came through his soft actions. James was perfect.

That was the problem. Regulus was so awfully flawed, with the Black magic leaving a permanent stain on him. He would never know anything but the noble house of Black.

As the night grew colder and their conversation grew silent, the younger boy decided it was time to go back to their respective dorm rooms. He gently nudged James’ shoulder and awoke him from his slumber.

“Potter I think it’s time for you to go to your dorm. And don’t come back up here tomorrow.” Regulus huffed as he stood up hastily and scurried away so Potter wouldn’t see him blush. How was this happening, Regulus knew James was objectively pretty hot, but that didn’t mean it was okay for him to like James.

James got up slowly, confused at the slytherin boys comment; what did he mean “don’t come back”. He knew he fucked up somehow, maybe he came on a little too strong. He wasn’t even sure Regulus was into men, let alone him.

He pushed himself off the astronomy towers floor and made his own way back to the dorm, unaware of the three other marauders impatiently waiting his arrival.

As James quietly unlocked his door, his friends ambushed him with questions.

“James Fleamont Potter where on earth have u been, we were waiting for you since after dinner?”

“Why were you on the map with Sirius’ younger brother?”

The questions flew past his head, how had they caught him already?

Shorter one today for you guys <3

more plot will come sooner or later! i wont be posting every day but maybe twice a week xx

lots of love- tomny armstrongs biggest fan xoxo

[creakingcreek]

Udndhhgrjhfs.. I need to go rewatch all the tinkerbell movies-

@lara-cairncross It's the boyyyyy, the silly, the goober, he's infected my brain and won't get out

[coddda]

culprit

[gasstationclown]

whaaattttt loa posting for the first time in like... months? hi!!

misc ouaw sketches (ft metal singer gricko?? or something??)

ORPHEUS i havent finished prime yet but after months and months orpheus lives in my head growing like a mold. my personal design for him

and finally, i got tired of not being able to draw frost... so i practiced drawing actual tigers. ft my bad attempts before deciding it was good enough (im getting there)

[abyssalpriest]

God I could and should write a whole fucking book by the end of this life here on Lev and his symbols

ill write it then burn it before anyone else gets a copy. or i wont. im supposed to be helping him this incarnation here to get a better anchor in this plane so maybe it would help more than itd be weird - im just getting from him the energy of "yeah no people already effectively have these things, people on my plane already know me inside and out to an extensive degree, may as well have it here too" you know. fair

[todayisafridaynight]

We’re having an emergency meeting to discuss Chris Johnson and the whitest name ever

absolutely fitting for our white man now innit

[asimplearchivist]

hrrhhhrrmrm...velmgarb...*indistinguishable gnawing noises*

[musicalpancakes77]

Fic Chain Tag

Well, first of all. Hello! I haven't made a post on this blog in (checks watch) A Really Long Time! Or even done a fic/tag game in even longer. Thank you to JJ (@4ragon) for the tag hehe, this should be fun :]

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

1a. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Luke, uncharacteristically, whined. Technically that is the first line of the fic that I wrote for a zine, however on ao3 I included a scrap that got cut, and that first sentence is instead: 1b. With the howl of breeze overhead, the ruins fell silent.

2. When the sun rose over the horizon, Phoenix saw Labyrinthia like he never had before- literally.

3. The crunching snow is like a nostalgic hello.

4. [Clay; 3:48pm]: hey Apollo, do you want to help me with my nuclear project? 

5. The tea had been graciously gifted to him by Kate.

6. Outside, the cold was flurrying.

7. If there was one fact that Thor was sure of, it was that Loki was dead.

8. If there was one thing that Robbie knew, it was that Valentine's Day was not about being big and glamorous.

9. LazyTown, sitting in a field off the base of a mountain, got hit with snow every year.

10. It was a bright afternoon day, and Robbie pleasantly spent it deep blow the depths of the surface waiting for the children's screams to stop.

Now that that's done- holy shit some of those fics were so old oh my god??? Also the way you can clearly see which fandom had a grip on my brain through the years ;LASKDFAJ beautiful. Simply beautiful. (For reference, almost all of my Lazytown fics were posted in 2017, so!)

As far as patterns go- I can see that I enjoy a quick set up sentence that usually opens the door for an idea that I can elaborate on. Especially, I noticed, for my way older fics, like Lazytown and that Marvel one. The trend still applies to my AA ones but (especially with the ones that aren't published) I tend to push around new ways of starting fics and stating ideas- like the Nuclear Pasta one with Clay and Apollo :] It's just a shame I never get around to posting them LMAO

As for tagging. Um. Well. I'm a bit out of practice with posting and knowing people who post often. I think the only person I can think of who I haven't seen tagged would be my lovely friend Téa (@transtrucy). Otherwise, if anyone of my non-mutuals want to, go ahead! No pressure to any of y'all tho!

[rafesangelita]

♡ “have you ever tried this one?” in which kook!sweetheart!reader convinces rafe to take her to go see one of her favorite artists, and as a ‘thank you’ she and rafe have to do whatever position sabrina demo’s for her song “juno”..

warnings: fluff, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink (?)

a/n: so sad because i didn’t get to see sabrina on tour, and she has had me in the meanest chokehold lately :( click this link to see what position i’m referring to <3

when the dates dropped for sabrina’s ‘short n’ sweet’ tour, rafe wasted no time in buying you two tickets. of course, you didn’t know this and begged him for weeks until he finally told you yes, your flight and hotel room already booked for a nice little weekend getaway. rafe helped you make your concert outfit, both of you spending hours on the whole ensemble. the end result was absolutely stunning and rafe couldn’t stop taking pictures of you.

he posted one on the night of the concert, captioning it ‘my little popstar princess <3’ and you two were off to the stadium. while you knew wearing sparkly white platform boots wouldn’t be the best choice to walk in, you stuck it through, and as soon as the lights dimmed and the music started, any kind of discomfort you felt had melted away as you were far too distracted singing along to every song that boomed through the venue.

babydoll lingerie top with pink fluffy trim, dedazzled stockings, glittery makeup, your hair freshly done, rafe swore you never looked prettier. even though he was against wearing anything that sparkled, he decided to wear a plain pink t-shirt to match with you in his own little way. he kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you two sung, having learned the lyrics to every song since you insisted on being in charge of the aux cord whenever you two were in his truck.

eventually, you two were swaying softly, rafe’s chin resting in the curve of your neck as you stroked the skin of his arm. “thank you for bringing me here.” you smiled up at him, connecting your lips as the intro to ‘juno’ started playing. rafe hummed, leaning down so you could hear him. “you know i had to bring you, baby.. what do you say you thank me another way when we get back to our room?” your cheeks heated as you laughed softly.

“yeah, i’d like that,” you pecked his cheek, “how about we do the position she does for the song?” rafe smiled, both of you fixing your attention on the stage. you waited with anticipation, your heart beating in your ears when she bent over and touched her toes. rafe cheered, making you laugh as he couldn’t wait to get you back to the hotel. luckily for him, there was only a few more songs left before the show ended and the two of you rushed out of there.

it wasn’t long after you two walked through the door that rafe had your boots thrown in a forgotten corner, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he took you roughly from behind. you struggled to keep your hands placed on your perfectly pedicured toes, your knees threatening to give out from under you while rafe thrusted into you at an unforgiving pace. “holy fuck, you’re taking it so fuckin’ good, gorgeous, ‘might just let you get off your tippy toes and put you on your back instead.”

you cried out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as his pelvis smacked against the back of your ass. “can’t, rafe!” you shrieked, nearly doubling over before your boyfriend reached down and grabbed your arms, holding you by your wrists as you hung helplessly from his grip. he was fucking you stupid, and your lack of thoughts was proof of it. you couldn’t think, the feeling of rafe’s cock stroking that soft gummy spot inside of you made you whimper pathetically.

finally, you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your knees meeting the carpeted floor. rafe picked you up, cursing under his breath as he encouraged you to get back in position. “promise i’ll have you in bed soon, pretty, you could hold out for me, yeah?” you shuddered, looking at him from behind your shoulder with that fucked-out gaze he loved so much. you had tears in your eyes, your body glitter still sparkling under the soft lighting.

giving him a little nod, you reached down once again, holding onto your ankles for dear life as rafe circled an arm under your hips, holding you up as his fingers started working on your clit. “oh!” you were in hysterics, your blood rushing to your head as he landed a harsh smack to your backside. “come on, baby, ‘wanna feel this pussy squeeze around me.” you moaned at his words, your orgasm just in arm’s reach as rafe’s thrusts grew uncalculated. “rafe?” you could barely speak, the band in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“talk to me.” he groaned, teetering the edge of pure euphoria. “make me juno?” you giggled for a split second, the insinuation only turning rafe on even more. “fuck, yeah? ‘want me to fill you up, give you a baby?” you let out a distorted “mhmm!’, the two of you gasping when your highs took you both to cloud nine. rafe pulled you back up, your chest rising and falling while your legs shook with your orgasm. pressing wet kisses to your neck, rafe did exactly as he said, his hips stuttering as hot, thick ropes of cum painted your velvety walls.

you two stayed like this, pressed against one another until your breathing slowed, the aftershocks subsiding before rafe laid you both down in bed. “we should have a ‘short n’ sweet’ themed baby shower.. we could serve espressos.” rafe laughed, draping an arm over your tummy. “we’ll see.” he hummed. your eyes fluttered shut as you breathed him in, his cologne still heavy on his skin. “you know what we should try when we get back home?” rafe traced shapes into your side, mumbling a ‘what’s that?’

“pink fuzzy handcuffs.”