#have you discovered the shift key yet

[redwing4life]

Forgotten Alarms

CHAPTER 1 | ASHES TO EMBERS

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbour!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of night terrors, trapped in small spaces, brief mention of reader being worried about bucky holding her weight, nothing else other than bucky being cute af

SUMMARY: When you get stuck in an elevator with your neighbour (who also happens to be your crush), you discover your interest in the firefighter isn’t as one-sided as you thought.

WORD COUNT: 2736

NEXT CHAPTER

“You’re late, doll.”

The teasing voice of your neighbour catches you off guard when you open your front door; your hand slaps over your heart as you jump from shock.

“Says you” you smirk as you come down from the surprise. You step out of your door fully, turning and pulling it shut behind you.

Bucky chuckles, locking his own door while you do the same. He can’t help but sneak another glance your way - a light blush creeping up your neck under his gaze.

You think you’d be used to him by now, have your little crush under control seeing as you find yourselves leaving for work at the same time regularly. And yet here you are, heart beating faster than you’d like while you fumble with your keys.

Despite being late for work, Bucky waits for you to finish locking up before falling into step beside you as you walk down the hallway to the elevator.

“So let me guess, you slept through your alarm again?” The firefighter raises a brow, amused by your flushed appearance - unsure if that’s his effect on you or the fact your shift started five minutes ago.

“Worse,” you wince, “didn’t even set the damn thing.”

If you didn’t love it so much so much, you’d be inclined to be offended at the snort of a laugh he lets out. “Oh, doll.” Bucky shakes his head with a grin still left on his lips.

“What ‘bout you, Barnes? Spend too much time doing your hair?”

One unamused glare your way and now you’re the one giggling. Walking up to the elevator, you press the button to go down before stepping back to face Bucky.

“I’ll have you know, I woke up looking this good” He winks at you, hoping you’ll accept his non-answer for an answer. But you both know why he woke up late.

He barely even fell asleep, now that his nightmares are back.

His screams travel through the thin walls at night, falling on concerned ears. You pretend as though you don’t hear his night terrors but he sees the slight tug at your brows the next morning, the way you’re desperate to ask if he’s okay. But you never do; you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You offered your help once, and you’re not sure you have the right to ask again.

“Who said you look good?” You tease, hoping to lighten the mood.

The elevator dings and the doors open. “Well the old lady whose cat we saved yesterday said I was the most handsome man in town” He smirks as you both step inside.

“Oh that’s high praise, Barnes” You reply, watching as he presses the ground floor button.

A comfortable silence falls upon the elevator as it roars back to life. Pulling out your phone, you fire a quick text to your boss to apologise for being late before shoving it back into your back pocket.

Bucky turns to you, “What time do you fin-“

A loud clunk sounds from above the lift and it stops moving, dropping a couple inches before coming to a halt again.

“Oh, shit” You all but whisper, almost afraid of speaking too loudly in case it sends you tumbling down.

“Well,” Bucky’s eyes are on the ceiling, “that didn’t sound great”

If you weren’t so nervous, you might slap him for stating the fucking obvious. Your eyes fall to your hand that’s grabbed his, not even realising you’d reached for him when the lift stopped.

Your cheeks burn crimson before you release the death grip you had on his wrist, ignoring the sparks resting beneath your fingertips.

“You okay, doll?” His voice softens when he sees the fear in your eyes.

“Umm..” You stutter, voice as shaky as your hands are.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky’s hands are on your shoulders now, “you’re shaking, Y/n. What’s wrong? What do you need me to do?”

Clenching your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “Tell me we’re not about to fall to our deaths, please”

Your neighbour lets out a breathy ‘Oh, doll’ and strokes his thumbs over your shoulders. When you open your eyes, his blue ones bear into yours reassuringly, “We’re not gonna fall to our deaths.”

“This hunk of junk hasn’t been serviced in years but i’m pretty sure it’s just jammed or the powers cut out. Either way, we’re gonna be just fine” He continues.

You let out a wavering breath and nod slowly. “Okay. So what now?” You ask.

Bucky drops one of his hands to get his phone (much to your dismay), “I’m gonna call for the crew to come get us”

“Wait,” You frown, “why not press the help button?”

Bringing his phone to his ear, Bucky replies as it starts ringing. “Well, after Mr Garvey lugs his ass outta bed, he’d be calling them anyways. Might as well avoid being stuck here longer than we have to”

Ahh, Mr Garvey; the landlord to the whole building who also happens to be the laziest fucker around.

You mumble and ‘okay’ and roll your bottom lip between your teeth - completely unaware of the admiring eyes on you.

Eventually, a voice sounds from the other side of the phone and Bucky explains the situation, rambling off the information they need to find you. With a quick thank you, the call is over and you’re left with nothing but time to waste.

Your eyes follow the man before you as he approaches the far wall, sliding down it till he’s sat with one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee where he rests his elbow.

“It’s alright, doll. You can sit down, it won’t break anything” He cocks his head to side, eyeing up your hesitant features.

You choose to trust him; after all, he is the one best qualified to know what will and won’t make this obnoxiously small lift crash to the ground.

Letting yourself drop to the floor, you sit with your knees up due to the lack of space to stretch your legs. Bucky is right in front of you, the tight squeeze seemingly not bothering him.

“Great day to be late, huh” You scoff lightly.

“Yeah well, at least we’re together”

A laugh escapes you, drawing a confused expression from your neighbour. “Let’s not pretend as though you need me here. If it weren’t for me you’d probably be climbing outta this thing”

“You overestimate my abilities, sweets. I’m no spider-man” He replies. Those damn pet names make you blush every time.

“You know,” you tilt your head a little to the left, “I can’t think of anyone who still uses ‘doll’ or ‘sweets�� aside from you”

You swear there’s a glint in Bucky’s eye when he replies, “Do you blush when someone calls you ‘baby’ as much as you do when I call you ‘doll’?”

Thinking for a moment, you shyly shake your head in response; he raises his brows at you, as though your answer proves his point. You wonder if he’s old fashioned in other ways. If he’s one to buy his girl flowers or open a car door for them. Maybe he’s just as polite in bed, though you find yourself disappointed at the thought. God, you need to stop thinking of him like that, no matter how hot he would look between your-

“You seeing that fella from last week again?”

Bucky’s question brings you out of your day dreams and you’re surprised by it, unaware he had any interest in your love life.

“Peter?” He nods. “No, I don’t think so. We weren’t really one the same page, if that makes sense”

“How so?”

You shrug slightly, “He’s fresh out of college and looking for a fuck buddy, not a genuine relationship.” You look away from Bucky as you continue. “And even if I wanted that, he’s hardly mature enough to know what he’s doing”

With your gaze settled on your hands, you miss the way Bucky starts biting his lip as he wonders what type of man would fulfil your needs. He shakes his head clear of those thoughts, not wanting to make a fool of himself.

“What about you? Haven’t heard any visitors at yours for a little while” You comment, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve been spying on him.

He lets out a dry laugh, “Lets just say I prefer my nights off with a beer and listening to you play the piano.”

“Oh god, you hear that?” You cover your face with your hands when he nods. “I hope I don’t disturb you. I didn’t think it-“

“It’s fine, doll,” he nudges your thigh with his boot, “I like it”

Your cheeks burn yet again as you drop your hands. “You do?”

“How could I not? You play beautifully. I’ve thought of slipping a request under your door but I didn’t wanna be the creep next door”

You giggle, “You couldn’t be creepy if you tried, Barnes”

“In that case, you should know my cat loves your music too”

With a gasp, you lean closer to Bucky till you’re sat cross legged barely a foot away from him. “James Barnes, the firefighter, has a cat!?”

You revel in his hearty laugh, eyes dancing across his face. From the crinkles at the corners of his eyes to the deep smile lines framing his mouth, you can’t help but be drawn to his beauty.

He sobers up. “Her name’s Alpine.” He says, “She was left at the firehouse a couple of years ago so I took her home with me. She’s probably the only thing that loves your music more than me”

A grin tugs at your lips as you enjoy the thought of your neighbour cuddled up with a little cat.

“If we make it outta here alive, I wanna meet her”

“We’ll be fine, doll. The crew’ll be here any minute now”

You hum and silence consumes the air once more. The soft dim glow of the overhead lights falls gracefully on your features and Bucky can’t pull his eyes away. He knows you’re not too fond of the situation you’re both in and yet he can’t help but thank whatever beings made this happen; to finally have an excuse to talk to you longer than your usual small talk, to tell you how much he’s in awe your piano playing.

He’s not ready to tell you that he’s rather in awe of you, too. Maybe next time you’re stuck in a lift together.

With the silence so heavy on your ears, your mind drifts to the reason you’re here in the first place. The reason he is here.

The nightmares.

You know he hasn’t slept properly in weeks; the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a glimpse of his exhaustion. And as much as you’re scared of pushing him away, the weight on your chest is growing too heavy to bear.

“I know you’re having nightmares again.”

Bucky stills.

“Those screams, James, I-“

“It’s nothing” He cuts you off with stern words. Your brows pull together, eyes laced with worry.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. I thought they got better.“

His head falls back against the wall behind him, “Well you thought wrong.”

You curse yourself beneath your breath as you run your hands through your hair, searching for the right thing to say.

“I’m worried about you, James.” You breathe, eyes fluttering shut. You’re scared that if you look at him, you’ll cave in and promise to never ask about it again. “I get that i’m just your neighbour but I can’t keep acting like I can’t see there’s something wrong.“

“There is nothing wrong!” Bucky’s tone is sharp, not quite shouting but no longer calm.

Your eyes snap open, training on the clench of his jaw, the sole hint of any emotion on his face.

“I’m dealing with it. So you need to stop acting like you know me because you don’t.”

And there it goes. The worry in your chest morphs into regret. Regret for bringing it up, regret for thinking you could help, regret for hearing his screams in the first place.

“Okay”

Bucky hates how timid your voice is, barely loud enough over the ringing of his own heartbeat. That and the voice in his head telling him he’s a piece of shit. He wishes he could take it all back but he doesn’t know how to, so he decides that silence is better than opening his damn mouth and making things worse.

The pair of you sit there in silence, one that’s far less comfortable than before, and stare at the ceiling, waiting for help to arrive.

When it does, you count your lucky stars that the lift stopped just at the doors to the second floor. Bucky helps the crew pull the doors open enough for you both to climb through. You feel his blue eyes on you as you wait for them to stabilise the lift, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

“Okay, Ma’am,” One of the firefighters calls, the name ‘Rogers’ written on his jacket, “we need you guys to climb up here and we’ll pull you out.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of pulling yourself up there, suddenly very aware of your frankly appalling upper body strength.

Rogers catches the hesitation on your face. “Don’t worry, Buck will help you up so you can get out first”

Turning to look at your neighbour, you lock eyes for the first time in ten minutes. His lips are turned into an awkward half smile, changing his entire demeanour from one of a brooding firefighter to a sheepish kid.

You don’t know how long the pair of you stand there staring at each other, but it’s long enough for Roger’s to clear his throat in attempt to regain your attention.

Bucky steps closer to you while the crew get ready above you. “You okay with this, doll?”

You nod, “As long as this thing doesn’t fall while i’m half way through and snap my body in half, i’m good”

That heartwarming laugh fills your ears and the firefighter shakes his head in amusement. At least he doesn’t hate you enough to leave you to get out on your own.

“Well lucky for you, that ain’t gonna happen”

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Okay, how is this gonna work?”

Bucky moves to stand below the gap, facing you. He lowers himself down to one knee before reaching for your hand.

His skin is warm but rough, gentle but strong as he pulls you closer to him. The unexpected tug on your hand sends you tumbling toward him, your right hand bracing yourself on his shoulder to regain your balance while his free hand lands on your hip.

You mumble an apology, flustered at the intense heat beneath his hands and the way Bucky is looking up at you.

“You good?” He asks, voice dripping with awe, though you’re oblivious to the admiration, still plagued by the way he shut you down earlier.

When you nod, Bucky removes his hand from your hip and taps his knee. “You’re gonna step on my knee, then on my shoulder and you then should be close enough for Steve to grab you and pull you out”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you” You admit, nervous at the thought of letting Bucky take your body weight on his shoulders.

He looks up at you through his lashes “Do you trust me, sweets?”

“Yes” You reply, not even having to think about it. There may be some walls between you, but you know he’s on the other side, waiting.

“Good, then get up here”

Bucky shouts up to the crew that he’s giving you a boost now and after hearing them shout back that they’re ready, you place your foot on Bucky’s knee and push yourself up.

“Don’t drop me” You warn, reaching up to the gap in preparation.

“Wouldn’t dream of it”

And with that, you climb onto your neighbours shoulders and stretch up for Steve to grab your hands.

Along with Bucky pushing your feet up, Steve pulls you out and you slide through the gap until you’re free of that god forsaken elevator.

“Well thank fuck for that” You groan, spread across the floor on your back, making the crew laugh.

You barely have time to recover before Bucky is stood above you, having lugged himself out with ease.

“Guess you won’t be forgetting to set your alarm again, ay?”

NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: first chapterrrrrr! hope you enjoyed, if you have any questions dm me or drop an ask <3

new chapter will be out soon, thanks to everyone to voted on the poll i put out, i hope it’s as good as you wished it would be :)

comment if you’d like to be added to my ashes to embers taglist 🧡

[lvndosnorris]

take it • l. norris smut headcannon

paring: female reader x lando norris

authors note: i think i've discovered my love for writing headcannons... they actually allow my brain to concentrate!! anyway thank you for all the love on my first ever piece eeek <3

warnings:

inbox: open

you'd been waiting for him all day — constantly checking your phone to see if he was on his way back, jumping at every sound outside your apartment. glances at the clock soon becoming some type of chore as you'd stifle a sigh and try to concentrate on the tv instead

shifting on the sofa once, twice; thighs squeezing together in a sly attempt to try and find some sort of release

"i've been waiting for you-" smothering lando as soon as he threw his keys down, arms outstretched in your direction as you bound up to him with a whine

and of course he looked all confused; lips pouted, eyebrows knitted as he cocked his head trying to figure what you meant and why you were all over him within a matter minutes

lips attached to the corner of his mouth in a hasty kiss as you fisted the material of his shirt. it was needy, hot, messy; your lips clashing with his as you tilted your head back so that his tongue could slip deeper into your mouth

"and what have i done to deserve this type of welcoming baby? hm?"

the idea of answering your boyfriend's cocky question not even crossing your mind as you backed the two of you to the sofa, the back of your knees hitting the cushions as his fingers splayed over the bare skin of your thighs

silently waiting for him to take a seat — bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he stared up at you. vision hazed and completely blinded by intense lust for you

perching on his lap as you'd kiss him silly

a mixture of slow, languid kisses where his tongue stroked against yours. savouring each second of one another as you whined impatiently because the heat between your legs was becoming more and more obvious

"you want it? you want it so bad? take it baby, go on"

gripping your waist as he chuckled at the way you avoided eye contact, face burning as you toyed with the waistband of his joggers before finally shifting them loosely down his hips

struggling to drag them any further as lando brushed his mouth against the spot on your neck that always drove you crazy — pushing your internal buttons all in the right way as your head lulled back, fingers pinching at his taunt flesh, moaning

your noises soft, yet laced with hunger

not even bothering to undress yourself fully, thumbs pushing your sodden underwear to the side as he clicked his tongue in his mouth - "naughty girl"

a silent sob itching the back of your throat as he slipped his tip inside of you

barely inside of you, yet here you were; clenching around nothing, bucking your hips to try and meet his half-attempt at a thrust

only giving into you when you begged him to, his name falling from your tongue like it was the only thing you knew how to say

and oh, how sweet it sounded

your body completely folding as he held your hips for you, blunt fingernails digging into you as he pushed your against him — not letting you wriggle or writhe away

simply making you take whatever he had to give

lando's grunts deep and guttural, like he'd been holding them back just like you had all day

each thrust of his cock sending your spiralling: every time he bottomed out he found himself going deeper, obsessed with the way you fluttered and hugged his shaft so tightly

"if you keep doing that i'm not going to last long at all angel"

[romanceyourdemons]

being a court official sounds like so much fun. put on a silly little hat. undermine your rival’s memorial in court. share a delicious melon snack with your peers and give your rival an obvious backhanded compliment. accept bribes. discover that one of your rival’s subordinates has stolen the glory for one of your subordinates’ hard work. arrange for the emperor’s most trusted eunuch to discover that subordinate of your rival in a compromising position. stand in a garden with a hand behind your back and absently recite poetry, your thoughts heavy with other affairs. receive public censure in court for corruption, exposed by your rival. present a lavish birthday gift to a young, ambitious imperial concubine with relatives in key places. orchestrate your rival’s banishment to guangxi. accidentally encounter him the night before he is to leave, shielded from the glare of the moon by the stone arch of a bridge. help cover up a scandal committed by the brother-in-law of the young concubine—by now elevated to consort—even though the young man’s shameless actions disgust you. submit a memorial to the throne. receive word that your rival has died of malaria in guangxi. plead sickness and refrain from attending court for three weeks as you compose a poem about the wind rushing through the boughs of a pine tree, never to return. consolidate your power yet increasingly feel that whatever you truly want is forever out of your reach. watch the consort’s brother-in-law’s scandal be revealed to the world. be implicated in it, more severely than you have ever imagined you would be—more severely even than you actually were. receive a white silk from the emperor. glance up as you accept it and see your rival’s insignificant nephew smiling. a smile that almost looks familiar. be reincarnated as a silver carp, often seen side-by-side with a golden carp beneath the shifting yet ever-flowing waters of the yongding river. the whole shebang

[poppadom0912]

Hii! 🙋🏻‍♀️

I saw that you are accepting requests, can I request an imagine with Jay Halstead where he and the reader (a surgeon) don't get along very well and, as fate would have it, they both live in the same building. One night the reader discovers that there is a camera hidden in the lampshade that she got from a strange guy, so the guy threatens her and Jay protects her. 😅❤️

Sorry for my English.

Warnings: Stalking/pedo men, brief hospitals, small injuries, and swearing.

A/N: Now that my series is done, I can finally get to completing and putting out all these requests. I wrote this in school. And do not apologise for your English, it was perfect.

Life is stressful right now so I lowkey got carried away writing this because it's somehow nearly 3k words but please do enjoy this!!

You weren’t too sure when it all actually started but it was too late to reverse time now.

Growing up, there was no way to avoid the Halstead brothers because all the way throughout your childhood up until the age of eighteen, you all went to school together and outside, your mothers were near inseparable. You could never catch a break.

What made matters even more confusing was that you didn’t mind Will, on fact, the two of you were quite good friends. You tolerated Will and with both your combined loves for medicine, an inevitable friendship bloomed but even with this, you and Jay just could not get along.

The only time you ever found solace was when the two of you finally parted ways after high school. You remained in Chicago to become a doctor and later surgeon while Jay, he spontaneously decided to enrol to become an army ranger. Your shock could not be hidden.

With both brothers out your life, days were so much more simple. From time to time, you wouldn’t say it aloud but you missed Wil’s company but Jay, his absence almost made it as though he never existed in the first place. And yes, maybe that was a bit cruel but the genuine hatred you had at the mere thought of him or the sight of his face, it made you want to hurl.

And the rest was history. Even with the more recent parts being a bit more pleasant yet depressive, your pure hatred for him didn’t seem to wane.

*****

Fast forward a few years and this is how it all is: your father remained ever so absent, both mothers passed away several years ago, Pat died last year, you and Will worked together and you and Jay weren’t exactly civil.

Living in the same building, on the exact same floor and literal doors apart could only do so much damage.

Today had been a very, very long day. You had just been on shift for a double that had run over because of the complicated surgery that almost went sideways last minute. You were practically dead on your feet. You loved trauma surgery as much as the next trauma surgeon but you could go without blood and scalpels for the next few hours because sleep was calling your name like a siren song.

Upon Connor’s insistence, he drove you home because he expressed his fear of you sleeping on the train and never getting off.

Finally in your apartment building, you dragged your feet to your door, your keys almost missing the hole due to your sudden misalignment. Your mind was nearing haziness but with one final push, you were inside and collapsed on your bed.

Sleep was instant. It was expected but you also weren’t surprised when you knocked out and woke up randomly at two in the morning. You felt semi-rejuvenated but you could definitely sleep for longer.

Drowsily, you stripped out of your clothes, chucking them towards the basket before walking into the bathroom. Doing what you needed to do, you returned and searched for comfortable pyjamas that were good enough for this heat.

Standing half naked in your own bedroom in the apartment that you rented alone was a completely normal thing to do. Never in your life did you need to be paranoid or extra careful. You were in the comfort of your own home, so why was there the need to be riddled with anxiety.

Well, apparently you should’ve because as you pulled you cotton shorts on, rummaging through your draw for an oversized shirt, you caught a miniscule red dot. You were so tired you contemplated if it was a hallucination but a few minutes later, remaining in the same position, the nano dot was still there.

Diverting your attention to the suspicious dot, you threw on a random shirt but somehow, during the milliseconds your head spent under the shirt before it reappeared, the red dot disappeared.

Now you were on edge. Sleep didn’t come as easy this time.

In the morning, everything looked the same. Going around, you tried to look for anything that could’ve been tampered with but alas, everything was in tip top condition. Maybe you really were so out of that that you were delusional, it all really could’ve been a hallucination.

You had a few more hours before you needed to go back to work and considering the state of your empty fridge, grocery shopping seemed like a promising idea.

Your sweetening mood however quickly turned sour at the familiar sight of a certain detective standing down the hallway, walking in the same direction as you towards the buildings only elevator.

Sighing in disappointment, you readjusted the tote bag on your shoulders and walked ahead anyway. There was no way you were letting this man ruin your mood.

Being stuck in the elevator though, it did ruin your mood a little.

For once in your entire life though, Jay didn’t rile you up. He didn’t say anything nor did he even attempt to roll his eyes when he saw you. It was weird, he barely even acknowledged you.

And you hated to admit it, but you didn’t like it. As much as you despised the man, Jay acting as if you were a ghost was something that irked you. But obviously, you were never going to tell him that, it’d only boost his already enormous ego.

*****

“You look like a rat.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

You took it all back. Everything you said two days ago, you were taking it all back. Jay could rot and burn in hell and you still wouldn’t care.

Over the course of twelve hours, something must’ve changed because Jay’s renewed vigour was back and it was here to stay. You didn’t relish his silence long enough because the second he opened his mouth, your headache returned.

Next time, you were dragging Will and forcing him to escort you up to your apartment door because at least then he’d save you, he’d make this all much more bearable.

The sudden change in weather suited your mood, the rain mimicking your emotions that Jay was only half responsible for. The other half was a result of your newly achieved paranoia and anxiety that made itself known whenever you came home.

No matter where you searched or how many hours you slept, the red dot came and then disappeared again. It was annoying and it came to the point that you tried avoiding you bedroom especially as much as possible. To not be comfortable and safe in your own home wasn’t right.

Rolling your eyes, you fished your keys out of your bag and ignored whatever Jay was saying. You’d known him for so long that blocking out his voice had become second nature, it was something you did subconsciously.

You wished his apartment was before yours, that way at least you could have some peace but life worked in funny ways.

Stopping in front of your door, you were just about to unlock it when your body froze.

“What’s wrong?”

The sudden change in your mood caught him off guard, your frozen body worrying him slightly. He might’ve shared your feelings of hostility but you were his older brothers best friend, which had to count for something.

Following your line of sight, Jay’s eyes hardened at the unlocked door, a slither of light leaking out from inside as the door sat ajar. You definitely locked it this morning, there was no doubt about it.

Maybe you had the right to be paranoid. Perhaps you should’ve acted on it sooner.

Not wasting another second, Jay pushed you behind him and drew his gun. With his shoe, he gently nudged the door open and began surveying the apartment bit by bit with practised precision.

You hadn’t seen the man in action for a while now, it was weird to see him so proper and serious.

With nothing out of place and all valuable belongings safe and sound, Jay deduced that for now, things should be fine but if need be, if anything was out of the ordinary, he was the first person you called.

And for the first time ever in over thirty years, you made Jay a promise.

*****

You kept to your promise. This was a matter you weren’t going to mess around with, even if it was with Jay.

You had just come out of the shower, hair dripping wet, shorts and an oversized shirt on because despite the rain it was still humid and the summer heat wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Stepping into the dark room, you started patting your hair dry with a towel and walked towards the lamp so there was at least some lighting. A dimly lit room made you feel less paranoid.

It was upon turning the lamp on though did your anxiety peak. This new height it reached making it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden.

Without even thinking of the consequences, Jay’s number was the first thing you found on your phone, his contact name pressed within seconds of your discovery.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you forced yourself to move at the sound of the door. This fear was almost paralysing, you didn’t even know what to make of all of it.

“What happened?” Jay’s concern was immediate. All you did was call him and he came over without question. Your call alone told him enough.

You stared at him wide eyed, words lodged at the back of your throat but they wouldn’t go any further than that. Remaining wordless, you simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards your room and he followed obediently.

Your bedroom was now back to pitch black; you turned the lamp off straight away because the pyjamas you wore left little for imagination. That trail of thought made you want to be sick.

Jay stood beside you; your hand still wrapped around his wrist tightly while your other still held the wet hair towel that you probably should put away. He surveyed the dark room, taking it all in and trying to poke out anything out of the ordinary.

It was only when you tugged on his wrist, his head turning down to you before following your line of sight and pointed finger towards your innocent looking lamp that idly sat on your bedside table.

But it turned out to be not so innocent after all. Jay immediately saw the red dot no matter its small size, he saw it straight away and alarm bells went off.

Gently prying your fingers off his wrist, Jay holstered his gun and strode towards the lamp, tilting the lamp shade as he fiddled with something underneath. It didn’t take long before he stood up to his full height with a small black square in his palm.

This all-escalated way too fast for your liking.

*****

Jay refused to let you see anything from what he told you was a camera; he wouldn’t let you see it even for a price but he did briefly talk about what he saw in very little detail. What he told you was more than enough to make you want to bleach your body in a bath and move out of state to a place no one would know you.

Jay also wasn’t one hundred percent confident in letting you return back to your apartment alone. That’s how you found yourself wrapped in a blanket sitting cross-legged on his sofa, hiding yourself and your body from the world. Even with your shirt and shorts on, you felt liked dying at the thought of a man staring you down with intentions all but pure.

Gosh, you wanted to be sick.

Slowly sipping some water from a cup Jay silently handed you, you tried relaxing, rotating your shoulders to try release any of the tension but you failed. Fidgeting with anything was the only way you were able to not focus on the conversation Jay was having on the phone in the next room over. He was probably most likely talking to someone else from Intelligence.

The rest of the night, well more very early morning really, Jay explained the plan about how Intelligence were going to go about this but it would all happen in the morning at an actual suitable time.

With much bickering, Jay forced you into his bed as he took the sofa. It was weird that this was the most civil and even most nicest interaction the two of you ever had in either of your lifetimes. You wouldn’t tell him this unless under a life-or-death situation, but you kind’ve liked it. When Jay wasn’t being such a bastard, he was actually kind of decent.

Goodness, thinking about him was not something you would’ve ever thought of doing before yet here you were, thinking about your childhood nemesis at work.

The morning was relatively fine sprinkled with bits of awkwardness. Jay forcefully drove you to work when you insisted on going in today despite his attempts of getting you to stay home. If you tried and told Ms Goodwin the truth, she was very likely to give you the day off. Your stubbornness didn’t wane though.

You shift was normal, going from boring and mundane to fast paced just how you liked it. Nothing changed and it was relieving to be surrounded by familiarity and some sort of routine, it was a big distraction from the mess waiting for you at home. You tried keeping yourself occupied at every moment because any second you got alone with your deprecating thoughts, you were for sure going to spiral to a dark place.

And you’d been doing a great job at keeping busy till a certain detective walked in through the ED doors.

From the corner of your eyes, nothing about him looked off but when you squinted and walked towards him, you could make out a bloody gash poking out from his ripped jacket sleeve.

Now, Jay being hurt at work was nothing new. In fact, it was to be expected and you’d never been too bothered by it unlike Will was whenever his injured brother walked in so casually like it was another normal Wednesday.

However, you knew what he was doing at work today and your concerns peaked to such a height that Will had no reason to be worried anymore; you took it all from him.

“What happened?” You tried to remain somewhat calm, schooling your face as you dragged his non-injured arm towards an empty treatment room. Internally, you were glad Will was in surgery otherwise he’d be smirking and laughing like a manic at the sight he was seeing, a sight he’d never even envision in his dreams.

“We found the guy.” Jay ignored your question, begrudgingly sitting down on the bed, rolling his eyes when you wouldn’t let him get up. “We arrested him. Platt’s booking him as we speak.”

And just like that, all the weights pushing you down under the ground dissipated and you were beyond relieved.

You hands faltered as they went to grab some gauze, your eyes looking up to see whether or not he was lying but the soft smile spread across his lips, you didn’t need to question his credibility.

Without thinking, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and interlocked around his neck. Instinctively, you squeezed him a little, eyes shut as you relished in the good news. For a while, the world around you didn’t exist before it all came rushing back.

Suddenly, you abruptly pulled back, eyes wide in shock as your actions sunk in. Pressing your lips together tightly, you avoided eye contact and went back to preparing the gauze and butterfly strips, maybe even some wipes to see the real extent of the damage your stalker inflicted onto Jay.

Jay huffed in amusement and you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head. All of a sudden, you felt the need to smother his god forsaken handsome face-

What the fuck? There was no way you just thought that.

“He looks worse than me, don’t worry.” Jay started again, a smug smirk on his face as he spoke, his eyes not moving from your face. “He was being a bit of a dick so I roughed him up a little. This little nick is nothing.”

And for once, you didn’t doubt the truth behind his words. You fondly rolled your eyes before going to clean his bicep that was no longer covered by his jacket.

“My saviour.” You smiled placatingly, making brief eye contact before breaking it. “What would I have done without you.”

And for once again, there was no sarcasm dripping from your words. Behind them lay mostly the truth and maybe a hint of your typically sarcasm but without his help, who knows what would’ve happened.

“All in a days work.” Jay’s face didn’t change, his expression not moving a single bit. For a reason beyond your medical and surgical knowledge, you blushed, cheeks randomly feeling flushed.

Maybe now with childhood rivalry forgotten and shoved aside, things between the two of you could get better.

[eyelessfaces]

keys

llewyn davis x reader

tiny short fic for my wet cat boyfriend llewyn<3

summary: you ask llewyn to officially move in with you.

warnings: tiniest bit of angst, mentions of being broke. it's barely there

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, uhh it's just sweet idk what to tell you

word count: 0.8k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog @eyelessupdates

Llewyn is standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, almost sitting on it, his hands gripping the edge of it. He sighs and rolls his eyes as you walk up to him handing him a small box, and he feels a bit guilty that you seem so excited about it when he is not really. 

“What for,” he exhales as he takes the box from your hands and shakes his head. “You didn't have to.” he declares sternly, an almost scolding look over his face. Where some people say this just to be polite, Llewyn means it. You didn't have to.

“Open it!” you urge him, raising your eyebrows, biting down onto your bottom lip in apprehension and excitation. He sighs once again as he looks down at the tiny box in his hand.

“Come on, you know I don't like gifts, now I feel like I owe you something” he frowns, looking back up at you. 

It's your turn to sigh in impatience as you put your hands on either side of his neck, pulling him closer to you so you can press your lips against his and get him to stop complaining; it’s one efficient way to stop him from talking back. He hums against your mouth, his free hand instinctively shifting to rest against your hip. 

“Shut your mouth and open the damn box” you order him in a scolding whisper as you pull away, leaving him chuckling softly.

He licks his lips as he finally lifts the lid of the box, discovering a key inside.

“What is that” he frowns, looking up at you.

“It's a key, dumbass.” you scoff, shrugging. 

“I know what it is.” 

A heavy silence settles in the room, and it makes you confused. Llewyn takes the key out of the box, his expression unreadable as his gaze shifts from the small object to you. “Why”

“I want you to move in with me. Like, officially. No more couchsurfing” you declare. Even though you were a couple and Llewyn was spending most of his time at your place, he sometimes felt like he owed you and needed to give you space, crashing at the Gorfeins or at Jim and Jean’s from time to time. 

“This doesn't change much, you're already basically living here anyways. But now it's official, and you have a key, so you won't have to get in through the fire escape when I'm not home” you add tentatively, trying to read over his face whatever he feels at the moment. 

His silence is starting to make you anxious, starting to make you regret your decision. Maybe he’s not ready, maybe he doesn’t want this yet, maybe he doesn’t want this at all. You have never really talked about this, about anything regarding your future together.

“Yeah I figured but,” he finally starts, staring at the key in his hand. “It’s just… I can’t pay rent, angel.” he sighs, looking back at you with a miserable expression over his face.

“I know,” you huff out, relieved that it seems to be his only issue. “I’m not asking you to. You’ll help whenever you can” you nod. “I just want to lift this weight off your shoulders” you explain, your hand sliding to link with his.

“Like I said, it’s barely changing anything” you mutter under your breath.

He nods back at you, looking back at the key in his hand before putting it on the counter. 

“Okay.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly. “Okay what? Okay you’ll live with me?”

“Yeah.” he smiles, his hands setting at your waist. “I’ll live with you.” he nods, pulling you closer as his arm wraps around your shoulders, peppering small kisses over your temple and forehead. 

“Good” you say, leaning into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m glad you’re okay with it”

He scoffs, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve been couchsurfing for years. It’s just a damn key but it means a lot.” he huffs out. “Don’t go thinking I’m sad about the thought of not sneaking in through the fire escape anymore.”

You laugh, “Your back will thank me” you smile looking up at him. 

“Jean will thank you.” he corrects, earning a scoff from you before you cup his face and press a kiss against his cheek.

He grins sweetly as his lips brush against yours, before full on pressing them against your mouth. 

“I'm glad you haven't grown tired of me yet. I love you” he says as he pulls away, his lips curling in a small, grateful smile.

“I don't think I could ever grow tired of you, Davis. I love you too.”

“It’s only a matter of time I’m afraid” he scoffs.

“Mh, we’ll see, then you’ll have to give back your key and beg me to even sleep on the couch” you declare, looking at him with pity.

“You’ll give me the couch treatment?” he gasps, falsely appalled.

“Oh that'll be if I'm kind enough to let you in,” you tease.

“Alright I think I liked you better when you said you couldn't ever grow tired of me”

—

SUPPORT YOUR FANFICS WRITERS, REBLOG, LEAVE A COMMENT, IT IS WHAT KEEPS US GOING<3

inside llewyn davis taglist: @apollo-enthusiast @scarabgrant @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @missmarmaladeth @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @campingwiththecharmings @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @spxctorsslxt @dowbastan

[befemininenow]

Those cute little pills really did a 180 in your overall life, huh?

HRT, or feminizing hormone pills, are the one thing that truly feminizes your entire body. Some of these changes can be permanent while other changes may be reversed. While some of you reading this would immediately place an order to take hormones for rapid feminization, the reality is YMMV.

Some of you may experience feminization much quicker while others may require a higher dose. It’s also not uncommon to experience unexpected changes like mood swings and sexuality changes while on hormones. Body changes such as softening of the skin may be reversed while other changes such as growing of the breasts are permanent (w/out surgical procedures). Although some of this sounds like I’m trying to scare you, this is something you may want to be aware of before taking HRT. Still, I would highly recommend taking HRT, especially if you’re in a younger stage of life and your health allows it.

As for me, I’m at a stage where I unfortunately can’t take hormones (for now). I was devastated to receive that news, but it’s due to health reasons I wish to keep private. Fortunately, it won’t take me too long to get the okay for HRT since I’m rapidly improving on my health. Yes, I’m serious about transitioning. But once I’m finally allowed to take HRT, would I take it?

Honestly, my feelings are conflicted. I’m aware of the body changes; in fact, the pics you saw of me is the type of woman I want to become on the outside. But what about the mental changes? Although there’s not much proof that HRT can turn you “girly”, there have been stories from other trans girls that have experienced mental changes once they were well into HRT. Ranging from becoming more emotional to gaining new interests in guys, some describe these changes as a rollercoaster ride. Low key, I’m a little worried about these changes because they may not be who I want to become.

Yet, I don’t want to give up the opportunity to transition. I may lose my strength and height, but I would feel more energized and above my goals. I may not be able to have kids, but that won’t prevent me from becoming a loving parent. And as much as I hate to say it, even if my sexuality experiences a shift of interests and attractions to that of a straight girl, I will finally feel more comfortable being with someone else as a woman than I ever was as a guy. At the end of the day, I prefer to take the plunge and transition into my feminine self over lamenting how I should have transitioned much earlier.

I apologize if this post was very lengthy, but it served as a vent for my HRT caption since it hits home harder than I thought. The point of feminizing transition is discovering who your inner woman is really like. I wasn’t ready two years ago and I’m still not ready, but I can no longer afford to wait. My choice was made and I’m not looking back. I made my choice; how about you?

[parrythisucasual]

*flies into your inbox*

Hiya! I recently discovered your account and I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING

Is it alright if I request Jax x GenderNeutral!Reader, but Reader is a Magician and has ✨ magician rizz ✨ (they flirt a lot)

Like, Magician!Reader would constantly preform tricks (card guessing, making things disappear and reappear, pulling a rabbit jax out of a hat, etc) and brightens up the mood a lot

It’ll be really funny if they prank everyone too! Nothing harmless, just giving a small fright, and stealing nearby character accessories (Pompi’s hat, Ragatha’s bow, Jax’s keys) and using them in their magic tricks

(I just want to squeeze Jax to oblivion so bad it doesn’t feel healthy at all 🫠)

Thank you!

I DID MY BEST IMSORRYFORTHEWAIT

Jax x Magician! Reader

You were the life of the circus! Everyone loved your jokes and tricks. Except for Jax, of course, but that was most likely because you’d used him as a prop once too many times. It wasn’t your fault he was so funny! And besides, yanking a rabbit out of a hat was a classic, right?

Speaking of tricks, you were “on stage” once more, performing your little heart out. With a wave of your hand, Ragatha’s bow was no longer in her hair, now pinched between your finger and thumb, “Dear me! Are you missing something~?” you taunt playfully. Ragatha chuckles, clapping a bit, “How’d you even do that?”

“Ah-ah! Haven’t you heard?” you toss her bow back to her, “a magician never reveals their secrets!” You wiggled your fingers, snapping and a coin appeared. The coin danced between each finger, somersaulting over each knuckle effortlessly. 

“Although,” you muse, walking past her, “Some tricks I might teach. When they're not so…” you lift your hand, the coin missing, “...amazing anymore.” You step past her, heading for the kitchen. You weren't hungry, no, you couldn't be, but you were in the mood for a snack anyway.

Rounding the corner, you smack straight into Jax. Your stack of cards flies out of your breast pocket, scattering across the floor. You grin, chuckling a little at him, “...and that’s how you do a 52 pickup?” you joke.

Jax rolls his eyes, but bends down to help you pick up the cards, “Maybe you wouldn’t have to perform a pickup if you’d watch where you’re going, sparkles.” You raise a brow, shifting the cards into a neat stack, “Sparkles?”

“You know. Sparkles, glitter, magic!” he wiggles his fingers on one hand as he hands you the cards with the other. You grin, “That wasn’t clear at all, Bunny.” He stands, helping you up, “It was totally clear! You’re just too dumb to get it.”

You wink at him, “Careful how you talk to me! I just might need a rabbit for my next performance~” He glares at you, “Don’t even think about it!” he snaps. You chuckle again, “You’re a riot, Jax! I love hanging out with you.”

He pauses, the anger melting from his face to be replaced by curious confusion, “You… do? I thought you hated me, like everyone else.” Your smile disappears, “Jax, nobody hates you. Especially not me. How can I?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Just seems like you would.” You fall silent, unsure of what to do next, when an idea creeps into your brain and takes hold. You slowly smile again, a mischievous little smirk, “Say… you wanna see a magic trick?” He stares at you a moment, suspicious, “Sure…” his tone is nervous, yet curious. You lean up, giving him a quick kiss, before giving jazz hands, “And that’s how you steal someone’s breath away!” You bounce around the corner, leaving the stunned blushing bunny behind, “See you later, Jax~!”

[sirenesolace]

if there is one Law of Assumption youtuber that i would recommend to EVERYONE its Sammy Ingram.

A LOT of LOA creators (tumblr, twitter) and youtubers have so many limiting beliefs and they love to keep you stuck. Ever since i discovered Sammy’s channel, everything made so much more sense.

Sammy has so many videos explaining any questions you may have and she is very specific about everything so your left with no doubt or questions after.

I really recommend Sammy for anyone starting out their Law of Assumption journey or anyone who has known about it for a long time!

here are some LOA tumblr/twitter myths i’d like to debunk:

• “you NEED a good self concept to manifest/keep your manifestation” wrong. I remember when i first started out, i truly believe that having a good self concept was the key to manifesting until i realized that i’ve manifested so many (positive and negative) things in the past while having a shitty self concept. Also, a lot of celebrities have somewhat of a low self concept, yet they’re still able to manifest and get their dream lives and you can too! Having a great self concept is a BONUS when manifesting and it does help with any limiting belief you may have but don’t let it be something that paralyzes you.

•”you need to enter the void to manifest” ok not a lot of people say this but a lot of beginners on LOA tumblr think that the void is the only way to shift or manifest their dream life. If you can’t get into the void it’s OK! there’s OTHER easier manifestation techniques who will HELP you get the exact same results! Remember that YOU are the one manifesting, NOT the techniques (lmk if you guys want a post about the different ones).

That’s all i have for now! have an amazing day sirens🪼💕

—H🪼

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Perfect (S.W.)

Sam Winchester x Plus sized F! Reader

Request: maybe some s1/2 sam? it’s the reader's first time, and sam js is really sweet to her, focusing on her pleasure, guiding her through everything, and noticing how she reacts to his touches and teasing her, just like body worship lol. nicknames, Sam being lowkey an oral god🤭 lol. maybe the reader is just a little bit shy because she is more chubby? idk if this makes sense but yeah!! I hope you can do this, have a lovely day <3 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Rating: Mature (minors DNI)

Warning: Some violence, p n v, unprotected (Wrap it before you tap it!), Sam Is an oral god 🤧, talk of insecurities, loss of virginity.

Gif, not mine*

A/N I am accepting requests and making a supernatural tag list!

The lock behind you clicking locked sounded like music to your ears. Working straight after class from 4-12 was exhausting, to say the least, at a bar nonetheless. Annoying college frat boys, creepy old men, prostitutes (get the bag sis), you get it though life is hard.

“Only two more months then Im out of here…” You whispered under your breath. You were right though, only two more months at Standford and you were off to do big things in the world.

The walk back to your small apartment outside of campus was cold and damp. You could feel how moist the air was and the cold breeze hit your face and your legs, yet you loved this weather. Not too hot nor too cold just a bit chilly. The trees around you had orange leaves and every house you pass had pumpkins outside carved with scary or funny faces. Halloween was just around the corner. You were ready for it.

For the first time in two years, you were ready for this Halloween. After everything that happened.

Jess.

You couldn’t believe what happened when you found out that Jessica, one of your closest friends from elementary school was killed in a freak fire accident and her boyfriend Sam found her.

You, Sam, and Jess were inseparable at Stanford. Even days before her death you guys were at a bar celebrating Halloween. Well, jess was. You and Sam were wearing the most boring casual clothes ever. You both didn’t like the attention.

The Party scene, the crazy frat boys, insane sorority girls. Wasn’t your thing. It wasn’t his. But it was all for Jess. Which made the arrangement work.

You lost contact with Sam shortly after Jess’s death. Which stung. Thinking he was one of your best friends and you lost your other to the crazy fire. Yet, life goes on.

The door to your apartment was dull, no sign on the door. No welcome mat. Nothing that indicated a human living there. Thats how you liked it.

You opened the door to find it pitch black in the room before you.

Thats odd. Did I turn the lights off? I swear I don't remember turning them off before I left.

Your mind was racing with questions, you reached towards the left, using the dim hallway lighting to shine just enough for you to see your light switch. You flick it and your apartment shines.

Your apartment was dull. School textbooks on the counter, your backpack on the chair. Your small tv looked dusty in the living room from the lack of use, and the sad couches that hardly were sat on.

You were never home hardly, from working shifts at the bar and school. The only downtime you had was in your bedroom in the comfort of your bed with the latest Stephen King book at your disposal.

You hang your jacket on the hanger and throw your keys on the counter. You sigh loudly, your body was ready for that date to the bed.

A bang in your room made you break your train of thought. You turn your head towards your room and grab a kitchen knife. Slowly making your way towards your room, your heartbeat was picking up slowly.

Your door was open like it was before, but you could feel that something was off. You flicked the light on and nothing was there. But, you discovered that your window was wide open and your books from your end table were on the floor.

You walk towards the window and slide it shut and look out. Nothing seemed to be different yet...something felt off.

You took another breath before you felt arms lock your upper half. You scream and thrash to no avail.

"Please don't be scared...I'm just very hungry. You will come back...don't worry." The voice belonged to a man, you know. You thrashed again and looked up to see yourself looking back. Your mirror showed the man behind you.

He was a kid...maybe only 19? Looked like a freshman in college in his Standford Sweatshirt. But, his teeth were sharp. You kicked the wall and to your surprise, you broke his hold on you as you both fell to the ground.

This was your chance.

You collected yourself quickly running through the door and into the living room grabbing the closest thing to you for cover. Which in this case was a light fixture.

The boy walked through the door, his breaths were heavy. "Look I didn't want to hurt you. "

"Well, I really wanna hurt you."

Sam? That voice couldn't have been him.

A bang of a shotgun went off from your right, you looked to your side to not only see Sam but another guy with him with the shotgun. The man beside Sam seemed to notice you staring at him. His green eyes piercing into yours.

“Get behind me!” He yelled.

You didn’t have to think twice, you ran behind him and Sam while they took care of the deranged man.

“Close your eyes y/n.” Sam finally spoke to you, a machete in his hand. The man beside him was above the man that was kneeling down in pain with a shotgun pointed at his head. You looked back up at Sam, and his face was still just as handsome as it always was.

“Please.”

You finally closed your eyes. Hearing Sam’s footsteps move in front of you. I could hear the deranged man grunting, “Damn you Winchesters. One of these days. We will Kill you.”

“Well, good thing today isn’t the day then.” You could hear Sam’s voice and then a grunt following with a thud.

“Y/n keep your eyes closed. I don’t want you seeing this.”

You kept your eyes closed, tempted to open them. Just to see Sam. He is finally back… after everything that happened. He’s back.

Maybe this is just a dream?

What felt like hours of your eyes being closed was mere minutes as you heard grunting and a door close soon after.

“You can open your eyes now.”

You slowly opened your eyes, your eyes stung from the bright lights, your vision blurry. You reached your hand up and rubbed your eye one by one. The room was still lit with your lamps on the sides of the couch, but you could see the traces of dark red blood on the floor. You could see they were smeared like they were trying to clean it.

“You…. Killed that boy?” You looked up at Sam, the person you hung out with the most, missed the most after everything that has happened.

“He.. wasn’t a human. He was a vampire and he was gonna turn you Y/n.” Sam’s voice was so quiet, like he was afraid you would be scared of him. But, you knew Sam. He would never lie about this.

“This can’t be real…” You looked around and walked towards the couch. Sam following behind. Sitting beside you.

“It is…everything in the supernatural is. My family has hunted them for years…after my mother died from the yellowed eyed demon. Like Jess.” Sam’s voice cracked of mentioning Jess. You slide you hand in his and squeezed.

“A demon killed her?” You didn’t want to believe it, but it explains how weird her death was.

Sam took a breathe and looked at you, “Yes. He did. But, we are going to kill him. The guy that was with me, thats Dean. My brother. He basically raised me while dad hunted to avenge my mother. Now… it’s just me and him.”

Sam never talked about his family much, but he always mentioned his brother a few times. Which explains the facial similarities of the green eyed hunter.

I took a breathe and let his hand go and rubbed my arm,“Why was the Vampire coming for me?”

Sam sighed, “Me and Dean found leads from recent vampire attacks a few towns over. Has to be a nearby the university. Says why a lot of students went missing too.” You grabbed my phone to see it was now 1:45 am, how has it been almost two hours sense this all happened? “The boy that attacked you, went missing a few weeks back. He was sent to take you.”

“To be a vampire?” Your voice cracked a little in fear. Sam nodded, “I wouldn’t have let that happen. You deserve a good life.”

You finally did what you wanted to do for so long, you wrapped your arms around Sam and gave him a hug.

“Sam Winchester you deserve a good life too. Don’t sell yourself short. Thank you for saving my life.”

Sam hugged you back tight, like you were going to disappear any moment.

“Your not safe here Y/n. I got a motel room downtown. Pack clothes and bring a book. I need to know you will be safe.”

————————————————————————

2 weeks later

The last few weeks have been eventful to say the least… Sam came back, you met his Metallica loving brother, they rid of the vampire nest and overall you finally felt at ease after the two years of not knowing what happened to Jess.

Sam and Dean stayed near Stanford to keep an eye on you and make sure all is well. Coming down any other day and eating at the diner or having a drink at the bar, (which meant free drinks while your manager wasn’t working since you were the bartender), and having a new friend and your best friend back. All was well.

Yet, you could feel some tension between you and Sam. You’ve always had a small crush on him, who hasn’t though? His thick hair, his height, his hazel eyes, plus his personality? People would be crazy to not have a tiny crush on him.

But, with this small crush you could feel the guilt in the back of your mind. This man was one of your best friend’s boyfriend.

What would Jess think if she was alive?

“Y/n!” Sam’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You looked up at him, your popcorn still in your lap as you we’re watching Scream on the Tv with Sam.

You came back home a few days ago and Sam wanted to spend a night over, since tomorrow he and Dean will be heading to South Dakota to see a friend of the family’s.

“Yeah?”

“You okay? You’ve been quiet for 30 minutes and you usually never shut up about Billy and Stu.”

“I’m just thinking…”

Sam paused the movie and turned towards me. “Spill it.”

You sighed and laugh a little. “Sam, it’s nothing.”

Sam took the popcorn out of my hands and scooted closed towards me, “Must be something if you are quiet for a long period of time.”

You took a breathe, Sam wasn’t gonna give up until you told him what was on your mind, “I’m just thinking about my future. I guess.” You laughed nervously.

“Your future? What about it?”

“Just thinking about everything, what I’m gonna be doing, Where I will be, If I would marry. Stuff like that.” Sam looked at you seriously after you mentioning marriage.

“Y/n, if someone wouldn’t marry you. I would be very surprised. Who wouldn’t? Your funny, down to earth, strong and plus your personality is amazing.”

You laughed, “Yeah. No. I’m not the looks of someone to be married.”

Moments passed, The silence thickened. You could hear your own breathing and Sam set down the popcorn on the table and took the blanket off of me and him. “Get up and come with me.”

“What?”

Sam grabbed my hands and pulled me up towards him. “Come with me. I have to show you something.” As he said that he took your right hand in his and walked towards your room and opened the door.

Your room looked the same as it always did. Bed maid, your window closed, your books on the table.

Sam took you in front of the mirror, him standing behind you.

“What do you see?”

You look at him through the mirror and give him an odd look.

“What?”

Sam took a breath, “In the mirror, what do you see?”

“I see me…. We done?”

“No. You see yourself, what do you see about you? What do you like or dislike?”

You rolled your eyes, “What’s your point, Sam?”

"I want you to see the beautiful woman, I see."

Beautiful? He was talking about me? Your mind was spiraling in thoughts. Years of self-doubt, men leaving you since you didn't fit into their "desires". Just to have Sam, your best friend and crush call you beautiful looking at you with no makeup, shorts that showed your curve, thick thighs touching each other, and a tank top that didn't hide your bloated stomach.

Beautiful.

"I want you to see how perfect you are to me. Your personality, your smile, how you change the room. " Sam chuckles, "Even your weird obsession with old 90 movies." Sam's hands gently roam down your body to be around your waist.

Beautiful. Perfect.

Not in a million years those two words would fall out of anyone's mouth. Not Sam's at least, You never would have thought that he would talk about you like that.

“Everything of yours is perfect. Your curves, your hips, your smile. " As he said that his hands were all over your body...touching every inch gently. You look at Sam through the mirror, "Sam..." Seeing his hands on your body felt fantastic and right.

"I know the past two years have been hard, I wish I was here for you. Things happened...but I am here now." Sam said his hand was now on my cheek caressing softly. "Let me have this chance."

You took a deep breath, this felt like a dream. Sam Winchester really said that and meant that.

You look up at Sam and nod your head. Instantly his lips met yours.

The kiss was full of passion yet gentle. Like You were a fragile art piece in a museum. His hand was on your waist and he pulled you in closer as he finished the kiss.

"Is this okay?" His hand had my shirt. You nodded your head and he took your shirt off revealing your black bra.

You covered your stomach as Sam looked at you, he wrapped his hands on your arms and moved them away, "I told you that you are beautiful, don't hide yourself from me.

Sam pinned your arms to your side and from your lips down to your stomach near the top of your pants. He kissed every scar, and stretch mark as he went. Whispering all sorts of sweet nothings, while he kissed you.

Sam looked up at you and smiled, "Take your pants off and lay on the bed baby girl."

You took a deep breath and turned from Sam, slipping your pants off and laying down on the bed. Sam was now shirtless and working on his pants.

Once he was left in his boxers he walked towards you and climbed on top of you, his face above yours. He gave you a small kiss on the forehead, the tip of the nose, and finally your lips.

It felt euphoric, the amount of times you never thought this would happen or even think you would be alone for all your life was out of the equation. You were happy.

With his small kisses, Sam cupped your breasts in his hands and softly squeezed them. Making you moan out softly. He lifted you up and unclipped your bra. You slipped out of your bra and allowed him to throw it on the floor. He kissed you once more before fondling your breasts and using his mouth on your nipple, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud.

You softly moan and hold his head. Yanking his hair softly, Sam releases your nipple and looks up at you, "Better be careful Y/n. I want to take my time, but I will take you right now if you want."

Sam kissed your breasts and went down to your clothed pussy. Kissing the top of your underwear. His dirty talk made you feel excited for what's to come. Your underwear was soaked and Sam knew it, he rubbed your clothed pussy up and down making you moan out loud.

This was really happening. You were going to lose your virginity to Sam.

"Sam... I've never done this before." You admitted to him. He looked up at you and kissed your lips softly, "If you wanna stop we-" Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off with another kiss.

"I want you Sam."

You kissed Sam once more, deepening this kiss. His hands go back to your underwear and easily slide them off.

He breaks the kiss and goes down to my pussy, looking up at you before licking up and sucking on my clit. You moan out loud feeling the sensation of his tongue, Sam licked up and down and sucked on your clit before using a finger and thrusting in your pussy.

His one finger felt amazing inside, yet it stretched you out. If you couldn't take a finger. When he finally goes inside it may not fit. But, no matter the pleasure right now was overwhelming. You didn't want it to stop.

Sam does stop abusing your clit, rubbing your pussy, and adding another finger. You close your eyes and arch your back up, moaning out.

He was paying attention to everything that made you feel nothing but pleasure. He used his two fingers in a scissoring motion and that plus his mouth on you took you over the edge.

Your eyes feel blurry and your breaths are heavy, you could feel Sam's eyes on you. He leans up and kisses you. "Feel good baby girl?"

You smile and nod, "Yes."

You never noticed that Sam slipped his boxers off, his length hitting your thigh. You look down and take a breath.

It's a lot bigger than I thought...I don't think it would fit.

Your mind was spiraling and you could feel your nerves go through the roof.

"Don't overthink, keep your eyes on me. It will be uncomfortable but I am right here." Sam noticed you were in your head. His hands were rubbing your legs comfortably to make you relax. He kissed you gently and pulled you close to him as he rubbed his cock near your entrance.

Sam pulled away looking at you in your eyes, "You ready?"

A moment passed and you finally nodded your head. You wanted it You leaned up and kissed Sam once more. The head of his cock rubbing against your cunt.

During the kiss Sam thrusted in, You gasped in the kiss and he stopped moving while you looked like you were in discomfort.

When your face relaxed he thrusted again slowly until you told him to go faster.

The pleasure felt amazing, nothing felt better than being with Sam. You didn't want anyone else but him, the feel of his kisses, his touch. Was the most amazing thing you have ever felt.

The feeling of his cock filling you up to the brim felt amazing, how you stretched around to fit him and only him.

Sam was grunting as he thrusted, he started to moan softly kissing you while he thrusted into you. He gripped the sheets beside you as you gripped his shoulders filling him into you.

Sam pulled out and came on your stomach, "Sorry.." He chuckled and grabbed his shirt and cleaned you up, You smiled and looked down at him cleaning you up.

The one thing you knew for sure was that not only Sam was your first love, but no matter what he would always be your last.

[jake-s-azaleea]

Dancing with our hands tied

Duskwood one shot

pairing: Jake X mc

warnings: I'm the best writer y'all know

a fanfic I promised in the comments of an incorrect quote 🤍

(if y'all didn't get it, the title is from a Taylor Swift song)

***

As time flowed onward, the band of companions who weathered a profound loss gravitated towards one another, forging bonds more profound than ever. MC relocated to Duskwood, taking up residence in a dwelling near Lilly's place of employment, while Jessy and Dan found themselves employed at Phil's Bar, with Jessy immersed in administrative tasks behind the scenes. Cleo remained dedicated to her mother's ventures, and Thomas... his frequent companionship with Hannah hinted at a blossoming connection. Their unity grew steadfast as they discovered solace in each other's presence.

Jake, still evading capture, continued his fugitive existence. With the case concluded, he no longer needed to risk himself as he did in the past, allowing him to slip away for extended periods, evading detection until his trail could be picked up once more. The winding roads beckoned him toward his elusive destination, guiding him to where he felt he truly belonged- Next to her.

It's been a year and everything feels normal. The Pine Glade Festival was getting closer and Jessy planned a whole day of activities for them.

They were all staying at Aurora at a table listening to her and the perfect fantasy she imagined.She looked like she was getting her colour back into her face after all this time. She looked more content, her eyes reflecting a newfound sense of peace. It's a subtle shift, but one that speaks volumes. She was destroyed after the incident and didn't speak to anyone for a whole month.

a part of her died in that fire.

But now they were all so invested in her plans for a perfect day. The road to the waterfall was now opened and she wanted so badly to go there. the others just agreed and smiled at her.

A few days passed and the Pine Glade Festival came. They were supposed to meet there at 6 PM.

***

You grab your phone, keys and wallet and head towards the center of the town. The sun lingered in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the town, its pale rays painting the streets with a comforting warmth. As daylight stretched its fingers across the rooftops and cobblestone paths, the town seemed to bask in a tranquil embrace, a serene moment captured in the soft light of day.

You get there pretty early, but your train of thoughts is stopped by the sound of your phone buzzing.

Jake: I see you.

You sigh, your lips curving into a small smile. 'Of course you do' you thought to yourself.

You glance around and catch sight of him standing by a terrace, clad in a black hoodie. Despite the distance veiling his eyes, his shy smile is unmistakable, a subtle yet intriguing expression that hints at hidden depths beneath the surface. You sprint towards him, your heart racing with anticipation, and envelop him in a tight embrace, your arms encircling his neck in a moment of closeness and connection. The rush of emotions floods through you, mingling with the thrill of the unexpected encounter in the midst of the mysterious setting.

His gaze meets yours, a silent exchange of emotions and unspoken words

"Hi there"

"Hello, MC."

"We should get going, the others must be waiting for us."

"After you." he said smiling, his gestures expressing for you to lead the way.

You two walk in a comfortable silence most of the way until you see the others in distance. As you approach them, Jake's gaze meets yours:

"How are you feeling?"

"I will be fine"

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back, slowly closing the distance between you and your friends. He knew what this day meant to you. Losing Richy must still sting after all this time and being here after a year... Perhaps torture.

"Hello guys"

"Hi, MC! Hi, Jake! I'm so glad you could make it here" Jessy exclaimed happily.

"Oh, me too, you have no idea" you said smiling warmly.

You warmly greeted everyone and embarked on a journey through the festival, immersing yourself in every game and delight it had to offer, savoring each moment of joy and excitement. You anchored yourself in these moments, enjoying them wholeheartedly next to your friends.

You found yourself in a spot where the music was enchanting, and the atmosphere was filled with joy as people danced and had a great time.

Thomas and Hannah flew like two lovebirds towards the platform and started dancing, their movements as light as a feather. The sheer joy radiating from them was truly enchanting, spreading like a sweet melody through the air: it was just intoxicating. Jessy led the charge, followed by Cleo, Lilly, and Dan, while you and Jake strolled behind, soaking in the magical moment. The scene was filled with energy and excitement, creating a vibrant and lively atmosphere.

As you were walking quietly and listening to the music, you decide to break the silence.

"Do you dance?"

"No." he said without looking in your direction.

"Oh, alright."

"Ask me anyway"

"Do you want to dance with me?"

"Yes." he said glancing at you.

You smiled, maintaining eye contact as you got to the dance floor.

He extended his hand for you to grasp, guiding you onto the platform. As the music enveloped you both, you began to dance as if the melody was composed solely for the two of you. With each note, Jake skillfully led you in the dance, creating a harmonious and captivating rhythm between you.

After a few songs, a slow one began, and he drew you near, enveloping you in the gentle embrace of the music. The closeness between you two added a layer of intimacy to the dance, intensifying the emotions shared in that moment.

"When did you learn how to dance?" you asked.

"I figured you might want to dance today so... I did my research."

"You learnt to dance for me?"

He said nothing in return but tightened his embrace.

Maybe home has a heartbeat 🤍

****

I just loved writing this

prompts to @duskwood-mc-art for inspiring me to write it

[ap0llonian]

Vines and Valdez

LEO VALDEZ x Dionysus!READER

sypnosis: in a haze of pain and intoxication after a grueling mission, you, both injured and exhausted, find yourselves lying side by side in the quiet woods. As you struggle to come to terms with your survival, your playful bickering and retorts reveal deeper feelings. Amidst your banter ans genuine concern for one another, you discover that your stubbornness might just be the key to your bond.

notes: reader is a child of Dionysus (sibling if Pollux), reader is gender neutral, the two of them are oblivious idiots, friends to lovers, fluff

--------

The world around you spun like a merry-go-round that had forgotten how to stop. Everything was a blur of light and color, and you could feel the remnants of whatever you’d consumed earlier still burning through your veins, mixing with the aftereffects of too much wine. You were high, drunk, and quite frankly, blissfully out of it.

Except for the searing pain in your side, the throbbing in your head, and the uncomfortable sensation of blood sticking your shirt to your skin.

Leo wasn’t much better off. He lay next to you, his shirt torn, revealing a deep gash across his torso. His curls were matted with sweat and dirt, and his normally bright eyes were clouded with exhaustion. You both had fought like Tartarus during the last mission, and now you were paying the price. The woods around you were eerily sileny, like even the monsters had decided to call it a day and leave you two dumbfucks alone to die in peace.

“Why aren’t we dead yet?” Leo groaned, attempting to shift upright, but failing back with a very prominent wince.

You lolled your head towards him, a lazy smirk dancing across your lips. “Because we’re just too stubborn to give up.”

He let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a cough when his injuries made themselves known, his face scrunching up in pain. “Or maybe the gods just want to watch us suffer a little longer.” He remarked sarcastically, glaring daggers at the sky as if wanting to tell Zeus to knock it off.

“Probably,” you hummed, tracing patterns in the dirt with your finger, the simple action somehoe fascinating your current state. “They have a sick sense of humor.”

His eyes flickered to you and watched as you clumsily attempted to sit up. “Hey, don’t move too much, you’re still bleeding.” He scolded, his tone a little firmer than before.

“I’m fine. Just a scratch.” You slurred, waving a dismissive hand at him, but the motion caused your vision to spin even more.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Your ‘scratch’ is making a pretty convincing argument for staying still.”

You smirked at him, dramatically clutching your side. “You’re not exactly looking peachy either, Fix-It Felix.” You retorted and stuck your tongue out slightly.

He snorted, trying to hide the flush that was creeping up to his neck. “Who even says ‘peachy’ anymore?”

“Shut up,” you snickered, the sound of your voice almost foreign to your ears. “I feel sick, dude.”

“I had no idea,” he muttered sardonically, but his voice was fond. He tried to sit up again, this time a little slower, his jaw clenching against the pain.

You watched him, your head tilted to the side. It was strange seeing him like this—vulnerable, worn down. Usually, he was the one with the jokes, the quick fix, and the endless energy. But now... now he looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

“Leo,” you began, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “Don’t start with the sympathy. I’m fine.”

You frowned, and reached out a shaking hand towards him. “But you're not fine. Let me—”

He grabbed your wrist before you could even touch him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone who looked like they could barely hold themselves together. His eyes met yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn’t seem to place. “Don’t, okay? Just... don’t.” He managed to say, his eyes narrowed slightly.

You blinked. “Leo...”

His grip on your wrist loosened, and he sighed, his expression softening. “Sorry, I just— I can’t believe we made it out of there. I honestly thought we were—" He cut himself off, looking away, his jaw clenching.

“Thought we were goners?” You finished for him, your voice light to mask the unease creeping up your spine. “You thought we were goners?”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think my body’s just giving up on me.” He admitted in a mutter.

“No,” you said firmly, and sat upright, despite the dizzines that followed. You ignored his protests and shuffled closer, a glint of determination in your bleary eyes. “You’re too stubborn for that, remember?” You reminded with a cheeky grin, resting a weary arm atop his shoulder.

He laughed breathily. “Right, because stubbornness fixes everything.”

You poked his arm, hard enough to which he winced. “It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

Leo looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The tension, the pain, the exhaustion—they melted away, leaving just the two of you in this strange, quiet bubble.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It has.”

Your smirk formed into a full-blown grin, leaning your shoulder against his. “See? We’re invincible.”

“More like idiots who don’t know when to quit.” He teased, but there was warmth in his voice, a softness that made your heart do an odd little flip.

A noncommittal noise escaped your lips, your eyes closed to emphasize your mock-ignorance. “Can’t we be both?”

He chuckled. "Sure, why not?”

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to just sit there in each other's company, the world fading into the background. The pain was still there, but it felt more distant now, like it was something that belonged to someone else.

After what felt like hours, Leo finally broke the silence, his voice quiet. “You know...” He trailed off, his eyes glancing toward you. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you getting sappy on me Valdez?”

“Shut up, I’m being serious.”

“I know, I’m just shitting on you,” You replied softly. You reached out, this time more slowly, and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t pull away, just watched you with those tired, yet somehow still bright eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay too. And that’s not the wine talking.”

He smiled, a genuine smile that made your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of your father’s wine.

“Maybe we should stop getting ourselves nearly killed.” He suggested playfully, tilting his head slightly closer to yours.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?” You snorted.

Leo groaned and weakly pushed your face away. “You’re impossible.”

You shrugged and grinned cheekily, folding almost numb arms beneath your chest. “And yet you still put up with me.” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

He sighed deeply with mock-exhaustion, almost like he had no choice but to, and leaned his head back against the tree behind him. “Yeah, I do.”

Albeit, the way he said it made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if there was something more behind those words. But then he looked at you, and the familiar spark of mischief was back in his eyes.

“So,” he began. “About the peachy thing—”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He challenged and shift closer to you, a grin spreading across his worn out face.

You huffed, but the corners of your mouth were fighting to lift upwards. “Maybe I will.”

He raised an eyebrow, gazing at you like no one had ever before. “Yeah? How?”

You tapped your chin, feigning a moment of reverie, then leaned in close. “By surviving the next mission together.”

Leo blinked, the playful glint in his eyes fading into something softer. He turned his head slightly just enough that you could see the tender expression on his face. “Deal,” he said softly, a faint tint of bright red spreading across his cheeks.

You nodded with a smile, and settled back against him, placing your elbow atop his shoulder. And for the first time forever—you allowed yourself to relax.

Maybe you were both idiots, too stubborn for your own good, but as long as you had each other, you figured you could survive anything.

Even if you were just friends for now.

[twizzyburger]

In the Woods

they seem nice...

part 2!

tags! ❦❀

midwestern horror au! cryptid! Ghost x F! reader

Startled awake by the cold winds and gentle drizzle brushing against your face, you bolt upright in your new home. The room, dimly lit, reveals an open window as you scan your surroundings. Hastening to it, you discover the broken lock allowing a gust of wind to seep through. With a resigned exhale, you attribute the damaged lock to the relentless force of last night's harsh winds. Yet, amidst the scene, a sight captures your attention – delicate petals strewn across the floor and adorning the windowsill.

Intrigued, you step closer to the window and gaze outside. Astonishingly, the tree near your window, once barren in your memory, now blooms with exquisite white flowers. Squinting, you attempt to reconcile this unexpected transformation with your recollection. Could weariness have clouded your perception the night before? The blossoms sway gently in the drizzle, standing out against the town's eerie darkness. Brushing off any remaining doubts, you dismiss the peculiar event as a figment of exhaustion, convincing yourself that you overlooked the blossoms in your tired state. Nevertheless, as you shut the window and observe the petals on the sill, a subtle unease lingers, hinting at hidden secrets within the town that unravel with each passing moment and the sensation of being watched by unseen eyes persisted.

Closing the windows with a gentle click, you mentally remind yourself to buy new locks soon. Glancing down, you notice you're still dressed in the worn clothes from yesterday. Gratefully seizing the chance to rid yourself of the discomfort, you opt for something fresh and clean. Ready to venture into the ambiguous town, you slip into your shoes, grab your house keys, and step outside.

The grey ambiance of the town welcomes you once more as you exit. Despite the early hour, a few houses flicker with dim lights, maintaining a hauntingly eerie atmosphere. The drizzle has stopped, leaving a subtle mist hanging in the air. Progressing towards the town center, you observe a gentle lightening in the sky. The heart of the town emerges, embellished with a few shops. The atmosphere, while still somber, appears to throb with a peculiar vitality compared to the quieter outskirts. Some early risers stroll along the streets, their appearances unremarkable and their demeanor kind. The tension from yesterday's unsettling events starts to fade away as you navigate the bustling center, the semblance of normalcy soothing your nerves. Despite its mysterious aura, the town seems to harbor a community of warm individuals, offering you a newfound sense of comfort amidst its peculiar environment.

After a day of exploring the little town and meeting its welcoming residents, you decide it's time to head home. The bag carrying the new window locks swings gently by your side as you walk back along the dimly lit streets. Noticing a subtle shift, you see warm lights glowing from more houses, creating a comforting atmosphere in the otherwise grey town. Yet, one house directly across from yours remains enveloped in darkness. Shrugging off this peculiarity, you carry on your way, though the familiar feeling of being watched subtly returns to your awareness.

Upon reaching your house, you take off your shoes and set down the bag of window locks on the table. In the kitchen, you lose yourself in the soothing routine of preparing dinner, the clinking of pots and pans offering a reassuring background melody. Just as you begin to relax into the familiarity of your surroundings, a knock breaks the silence of the house. Carefully, you approach the door and peek through the crack before opening it.

Standing in front of you is a kind-faced woman, appearing to be in her 50s or 60s, holding a tray of freshly baked cream puffs. Her warm smile and genuine demeanor immediately calm your nerves. Introducing herself as Lydia, your neighbor, she extends the cream puffs to you as a gesture of welcome to the community. Appreciative of her kindness, you invite her inside, the sweet aroma of pastries blending with the comforting scent of your new home.

Engaging in conversation with your kind neighbor, you learn more about the town's history and its tight-knit community. The lady is more than willing to share information, her eyes lighting up with every detail. However, when you tentatively mention your occasional unease within the town, a subtle change in her demeanor catches your attention. The warm glow in her eyes dims momentarily, and a tension settles over her. You notice a fleeting glance in the direction of the house across the street. Before you can press further, she skillfully sidesteps the question, redirecting the conversation with a genuine smile. Sensing her reluctance, you decide not to push, and she shifts the focus by asking about your origins, a subtle deflection that leaves you with a lingering curiosity about the mysteries veiled.

Lydia's soothing southern accent filled the quiet room as she began, "Well, honey," drawing you in with her comforting drawl. Curious, you leaned closer, eager to hear more. "Most folks in this town steer clear of that house. A tragic accident occurred there, and now, nobody knows who resides within its walls. I can't help but feel a chill just looking at it! However," she paused, a pensive expression flitting across her face,

"I could've sworn I glimpsed a man standing near the forest's edge on my way here."

The revelation sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of the untold story lingering in the air.

After a chat, Lydia bid farewell, her sweet southern charm and genuine warmth filling you with comfort. With a parting invitation, she cheerfully remarked, "Feel free to drop by anytime!" A heartfelt grin spread across your face as you shut the door, grateful for the kindness of your new neighbor. Returning to the kitchen, the lingering scent of cream puffs wafted in the air.

While gazing out the window towards the neighboring house, a shiver raced down your spine. In a brief moment, you could have sworn you glimpsed a shadowy figure moving in the dimly lit interior. The earlier unease resurfaced, compelling you to fixate on the enigmatic house, pondering if it harbored secrets beyond the sorrow Lydia hinted at. The once ordinary town now appeared like a tapestry woven with strands of mystery and ambiguity, igniting a mix of curiosity and wariness within you.

[darling-archeron]

time won't fly (it's like i'm paralyzed by it)

chapter four: until the night is over: loop seventeen

Summary: Every day, Rhysand wakes up next to Amarantha in her bed Under the Mountain. A prisoner, a weapon, a High Lord on a leash. He's been down there so long, it's starting to feel like time doesn't matter.

Until one day, it doesn't. Feyre's death sends Rhysand back in time, waking up on the same day - over and over. Now, Rhysand must discover how to break the time loop, save his mate, and keep his sanity intact.

A "round robin" style fanfiction with different authors. This work is meant to be read from beginning to end, but each chapter is written by a different author with their own spin on the time loop prompt.

Warnings: canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence, temporary character death

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Word Count: 7.5k

Notes: Behold, my humble contribution to @feysand-hivemind's timeloop fic! Working on this story with all of you wonderful, talented people has been an absolute delight.

Tumblr Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Another failure, and Rhys was back where he had started.

Again, the dream. The wolf, the arrow, and Feyre, sharp hate in her eyes. And he was back in Amarantha’s bed.

The loops were starting to pile up. There had been far more variables, far more failures, than he had hoped. Would there be a limit to the number of second chances he was given?

Beside him, Amarantha stirred. He tensed, shifting his gaze over, but she only adjusted her head before falling still again. Her long red hair fanned out across the bed, brushing up against his shoulders. 

His sleep in Amarantha’s bed was almost always shit, so the good news was that he had plenty of time to think.

In nearly every loop so far, save the first one, he had tried to change Feyre’s path early on. The window between Feyre letting go of her hatred of faeries and beginning to trust Tamlin was practically non-existent. Either she didn’t trust him because he was a faerie, or because he was an enemy of the Spring Court and obviously sneaking around.

The first time, she had progressed the farthest – but exposing her to Amarantha’s ire, when she was still on edge, had been disastrous.

There had to be some kind of middle ground.

He loathed the idea of letting her go back Under the Mountain. He wouldn’t watch Amarantha break her again.

And yet – what if Feyre going Under the Mountain was the key? It was where they had, at least, gotten closest, with Feyre admitting her love for Tamlin, even if it had been too late.

The far easier option would have been to get her to admit her love for Tamlin sooner, before she even stepped foot in Amarantha’s court. But what if that wasn’t enough? His appearance at the Spring Court in the first loop hadn’t been enough to spur her on.

All he had were theories, the best of which had been strung together with hardly anything to hold them.

Clare Beddor – that was the name Feyre had given him in place of her own. Had he given that name to Amarantha and told her that Tamlin had brought a human to the Spring Court, he would have been spared in the first loop. Of course, that didn’t exactly solve anything, because Feyre still wouldn’t have.

Of course, that was assuming Amarantha found her under that alias. As long as she was in love with Tamlin, he doubted Amarantha cared what a human’s name was.

But what if Clare hadn’t been fictional? It was an unmistakably plain, human name, perhaps belonging to someone from wherever Feyre had once called home.

Even if it wasn’t, was it possible for him to orchestrate things so Amarantha’s ire fell on someone who wasn’t Feyre?

The makings of a plan began to take shape in his head.

It wasn’t a particularly honorable plan. It involved putting Feyre in danger, it involved at least one scapegoat. But he had already lost his – his Feyre too many times. And he knew, deep in his heart, that he would do whatever it took to keep it from happening again.

He knew by now that sleep would elude him the rest of the night. His mind was restless, but any moment of repose was strength.

There might not have been any more dreams ahead of him tonight, but Rhys lay awake and went through his usual ritual, picturing those he loved and wondering what they might be doing right now. Tonight, he dared to add one more name to the list.

I will not fail you, Feyre.

-

The previous times he had felt the call to seek her out on Calanmai, he ignored it. This time, however, it would be necessary.

And Rhys couldn’t deny that he felt a little thrill at the idea of seeing her again.

It was a perfect spring evening. The air was cool and fresh on his face – something he never took for granted anymore. He didn’t know how Amarantha could stand to spend most of her time Under the Mountain, choking on the same stale air year after year.

Cloaked in shadows on the edge of the tree line, Rhys observed the nearby figures, only illuminated by firelight. The drums had been beating for hours now – it wouldn’t be much longer before they reached their peak, and Tamlin would select his maiden. He bit down a wave of revulsion at the thought of Feyre being selected for such a ritual.

Luckily, if her thoughts from the previous loops were any indication, it wouldn’t come to that.

Not far from where Rhys stood, there was a group of half a dozen male lesser faeries. Loud, bawdy, and vulgar. After a moment of combing through their minds, Rhys saw that their thoughts were equally foul.

He selected the worst three, and then planted the seed of an idea in their heads.

Go and see what kind of trouble we can find. Plenty of fresh meat on a night like tonight.

As the minutes crept on, the pulling sensation in his chest drew tighter, and he scanned the firelit crowds for the shape of his painter.

Where are you? Come, find me. Go see Calanmai, he urged, even if she wouldn’t hear.

At last, he caught a glimpse of her weaving through the crowd, alone.

Any other time, he would have been angry that Tamlin didn’t have any protections on her. Wandering alone on a wild night like this only meant trouble for a human woman.

However, in this situation, it played right into his plans.

Feyre wandered through the crowd, likely searching for Tamlin or Lucien. Slowly, she wandered away from the throng, closer to his edge of the woods.

Closer to where he had led the males.

He watched from afar as they approached Feyre, nearly cornering her. One of them leaned in much too close –

And Rhys winnowed, right behind Feyre, catching her as she stumbled back on a piece of loose rock.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

-

The first meeting on Calanmai set things into motion. Though he had longed to linger, he had kept things brief, not getting as much as her name out of her.

She had thought he was the most beautiful male she had ever seen.

Why did the knowledge bring him such pleasure?

The name of the game was to still appear intimidating and a bit frightening, but not so much that he couldn’t be trusted. He couldn’t let the mask drop the way he longed to, but it was better than nothing.

He hadn’t been able to avoid taking the head, branded with the Night Court sigil, to the Spring Court a few weeks later. If he spared the faerie Amarantha had initially chosen, she would just pick another. However, he was able to put it somewhere else when he delivered it.

It was simple enough. He winnowed to the Spring Court and immediately sought out Feyre’s room. He could sense her even without having her in his sights, still fast asleep in the time just before dawn.

He cast his magic towards her, dragging her subconscious into a slightly heavier sleep. She would sleep halfway to noon, but that would give Tamlin plenty of time to deal with his little gift – and even if he didn’t, she would be far less likely to see it in the smaller garden where he left it, spiked on the ornamental fence.

He saved Feyre from the horror, but Amarantha expressed her displeasure that he had picked somewhere too subtle.

Her nails were sharp on his bare shoulders, tendrils of red hair brushing his neck as she loomed above him.

“What happened to your sense of theatrics, Rhysand?” she crooned. “Perhaps I need to put on another show, to give you some more inspiration to work with.”

Encased in the ring on her finger, Jurian’s eyeball spun. If the male was still in there somewhere, at least one of them could be panicked about the situation.

“If you wish it, my queen,” he crooned.

Whatever he could do to satisfy her nearly unabating thirst for violence before Feyre arrived.

-

Weeks passed, and Rhys spent hours trying to find another way back to the Spring Court. Every little interaction he had with Feyre before she came Under the Mountain could be crucial to their success.

Unfortunately, Amarantha’s paranoia only stretched so far.

“Why so eager to go back to the Spring Court, Rhysand?” Amarantha mused one night, when he had again suggested it. “One might think you’re hiding something there.”

He forced himself to stay calm, to continue rubbing her shoulders to relieve the tension from them.

“Only eager to see Tamlin flounder, my queen. You must admit, his attempts to break the curse have been laughable.”

“Which is why I’m hardly worried now. You serve me here, Rhysand.”

For not the first time, Rhys wished the bed would open up and swallow him.

-         

In the days leading up to the curse’s deadline, Amarantha finally loosened his leash as she had in the first loop. He knew the terrible things he would have to do in the days to come, but he also couldn’t deny his excitement at seeing Feyre again. Other than the day he had left the head spiked for Tamlin, he hadn’t so much as glimpsed her.

The bustle and brightness of spring greeted him as he winnowed onto the front lawn. Even with a fraction of its denizens, the manor was busy, as always.

Last time, the way things had unfolded was accidental. This time, he needed to keep this part as close to how it had first happened as possible.

He let scraps of his power wash out before him, alerting the whole manor of his presence, strolling into the dining room that only appeared to hold Tamlin and Lucien.

This time, he immediately noticed the third plate betraying her presence. He swore he could sense her, too. How had he been so oblivious the first time around?

He let the same words as before spill from his lips, as if he was acting out one of the plays Mor loved to watch at the Velaris theatre. Taunting Tamlin and Lucien, pretending to be surprised when he let his gaze land on the third plate.

When Tamlin’s glamour fell from around her, he had to hold back his sigh of relief. She was still safe and whole – lovely, with the midday sun at her back, bringing out the gold in her hair.

“I remember you,” he said softly. “It seems like you ignored my warning to stay out of trouble.”

It was all he could do to keep up the familiar song and dance with Tamlin and Lucien. The urge to reach for her, make sure there wasn’t a single mark on her, was stronger than ever.

Instead, he reached for her mind, seizing it between his mental hands. As he traced his finger across her collarbones, her throat, he felt her fear.

“Don’t be afraid, darling,” he whispered into her mind.

“Don’t – “ Feyre ground out, too afraid to say much more.

One day, I swear, I will make it up to you, Feyre.

He flipped through her mind – and curiously, found no memories of her being intimate with Tamlin. Only memories of Tamlin biting into her neck on Calanmai – only hours after he had first met her.

“Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,” he said, letting his cruel words settle over the room. “Almost as much as she’ll enjoy watching how you anguish over it.”

He was aware of Feyre’s growing apprehension as he threatened Tamlin, and he almost reached back into her mind, to whisper something more soothing to her, but he stopped himself just in time. 

Not here. Not now, when there were so many variables still at play.

Tamlin shoved at him, but he sidestepped easily.

“Not now, Tamlin. I’d hate for the lady to see you become a smear upon the floor.”

Tamlin fumed, but Rhys finally had an excuse to turn his attention wholly back to Feyre.

“What’s your name, love?”

He felt her hesitation – felt the lie in her mind before it formed on her tongue.

“Clare Beddor,” she gasped.

Rhys smirked. “I’ll be sure to give Amarantha your regards – all of your regards.”    

-

When Amarantha summoned him to the throne room for a full report, it was all too easy to tell the truth. To give her Clare’s name.

Anything for Feyre.

Now all that remained was to wait and see if his gambit paid off.

-

Two days later, and the Attor dragged poor Clare, kicking and screaming, Under the Mountain.

As he had expected, Amarantha made a game of pulling pain from her like notes from a violin. He stood there and watched, the same bored smirk on his face.

He went into her mind, took away her pain as easily as snuffing out a candle.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Clare. I know you didn’t deserve it, didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Please, just end this,” she begged, unaware or uncaring of who she was speaking to.

He hated himself a little bit more as he didn’t reply. For Feyre to be safest, Amarantha’s bloodlust had to be fully spent.

“I don’t have that power, but your pain is gone. Scream when she expects you to.”

Over the next few days, Rhys remained at Amarantha’s side, watching as she tormented Clare. Perhaps because he was a glutton for punishment, he delved into her mind to get a glimpse of the person whose life he was destroying.

She was a simple village girl. Kind, gentle, she loved teasing her younger brothers and caring for her family’s animals. She hated the taste of oatmeal, and shunned the Children of the Blessed when they came to town.

The days wore on, and finally, Rhys couldn’t take it anymore. He reached back into Clare’s mind and ended it, once and for all.   

-

All too soon, the doors to Amarantha’s throne room swung open again as the Attor dragged another human girl through its doors, throwing her on the ground before Amarantha’s throne.

Rhys felt the pain in her knees as they hit the marble, so sharply it might have been his own. He did his best to steady his breathing. If anyone sensed how quickly his heart was beating, he would be fucked. 

He had to focus. Amarantha couldn’t know that a single thing was amiss this time around.

“What’s this?” The False Queen asked, leaning forward in her throne.

“Just a human thing I found downstairs,” the Attor hissed, leering at Feyre, and Rhys fought the urge to mist the wretched creature then and there. “Tell her Majesty why you were sneaking around the catacombs – why you came out of the old cave that leads to the Spring Court.”

He watched as Feyre proclaimed her love for Tamlin in front of all seven courts, bargaining for his freedom. She practically beseeched him to say something, but he didn’t so much as nod. Only sitting there as still and unfeeling as his stone heart.

“Give me a single reason I shouldn’t destroy you where you stand, human.”

“You tricked Tamlin. He is bound unfairly.”

Amarantha prattled on, enjoying the sound of her own voice. Rhys would have blocked it out entirely if Feyre’s safety didn’t entirely depend on Amarantha’s words. What would come next was the one part he had truly been unable to predict.

After all these years, Rhys understood how Amarantha worked well. If he had gambled right, she would offer to a game with Feyre, string her along for a bit while dangling Tamlin in front of her like a carrot. Not an optimal outcome, but it would give him time to better understand Feyre’s purpose on this path. From there, he could formulate the rest of his plan.

After she had just torn Clare apart, doing the same to Feyre would be boring, predictable. All things The Deceiver despised.

“I should have listened when darling Clare said she’d never seen Tamlin before, or hunted a day in her life. Though her screaming was certainly delightful. I haven’t heard such lovely music in ages. I should thank you for giving Rhysand her name instead of yours,” she crooned.

Though he stood in the shadows, off to the side of Amarantha’s throne rather than directly beside it, he felt the eyes of the court turn to him. Feyre didn’t spare him a glance, her eyes locked on Clare’s mangled body, but he could feel the horror radiating off of her.

He had known Clare’s death would complicate things. But seeing Clare through Feyre’s comparatively innocent, human eyes – the weight of his crime crashed down fully upon him.

Another sin added to the list of reasons he would burn in hell.

Amarantha verbally toyed with Feyre for a bit longer, enough that Rhys’s dread grew as he started to wonder if he had gambled wrong.

But then she spoke the words he had been praying for.

“I’ll make a bargain with you, human.”

He saw Feyre stiffen – and he was far from relaxing, either.

“You swear you love Tamlin?”

“With my whole heart,” Feyre insisted, her voice heavy with conviction.

“Well then. Proving your devotion should be easy. You complete three tasks of my choosing – three little tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs, and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove your dedication, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord.”

She turned to Tamlin, spouting more nonsense about fickle human hearts. Rhysand’s mind was already racing.

Three tasks – they could be anything, with so many variables. How would Amarantha see fit to make a human prove her love?

Amarantha went on to list conditions, stipulations, throwing a riddle into the mix.

That made him relax a bit. Amarantha had never been as clever as she gave herself credit for. Even if she forbade everyone from giving Feyre hints, it couldn’t be too difficult.

“So – are we agreed?” Amarantha said at last.

Feyre glanced across the throne room once more, eyes locking on Tamlin, who still hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Agreed,” Feyre said.

Cauldron, please, tell me I haven’t just subjected her to a fate worse than Clare’s. 

And with Feyre’s words and a swing of the Attor’s clawed arm, ripping into her skin, her fate was sealed, and Rhys’s along with it.

-

Rhys did his best to monitor Feyre from a distance. She had appeared alright when Amarantha gave her the riddle shortly after her arrival. He knew Lucien had already been to see her and patched up her injuries from the Attor’s beating, but it wasn’t enough. He had to see how she was faring and start getting her to trust him.

Also, a selfish part of him admitted, he hated to be so far from her when she was at last within his reach.

Amarantha had given her one of the worst cells in the dungeons, which was truly saying something. It was foul smelling and damp, and perfectly situated so that the screams and groans of the other prisoners angled themselves into the cell.

When he winnowed inside, she looked so small, curled up on a palette of foul-smelling hay that threatened to make his nose start running. At least she had a cloak to keep her warm. She hadn’t arrived with it – Lucien’s, if he had to guess.

At first, he thought she might have been asleep, but she shot up, eyes flying to where he stood in the corner of her cell.

“Hello, darling,” he crooned, stuffing his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t have to hide his tense fists.

“What do you want?” she hissed, blue-gray eyes narrowed.

Good – the fire hadn’t gone from her yet.

“I’m only checking in on my favorite human. How are you faring?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one.”

“I’m fine,” she said, scowling in a way that reminded him of Mor when she was irritated.

“Is that so? Because your situation would imply otherwise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she shot back.

“I mean you’ve come to claim Tamlin, without the faintest idea of what you’re getting yourself into.”

“You’re just saying that to get into my head.” Her voice was steely, but he saw a shiver shoot through her. Not just from the cold, although that was likely part of it.  

“I assure you, I only have your best interests at heart. And, just between the two of us, I’m happy to extend my assistance in any way I can.”

A dangerous, dangerous thing for him to say.

Feyre raised her eyebrows. “You want to help me? You’re Amarantha’s – her lackey.”

“That’s what everyone thinks,” Rhys admitted. “But have you never considered that I might have my own agenda?”

“Well, I don’t want any part of it,” Feyre spat.

Internally, Rhys grimaced. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her today.

With a wave of his hand, he summoned a blanket he had stashed in a pocket realm earlier. It wasn’t anything particularly nice, and there was a hole worn through in the middle. One of the nobles’ discarded rags.

“Think on it,” he said, tossing the blanket towards her, and winnowing back out of the cell before she could reply.

-

A few more long days went by, and Rhys could barely stand the thought of Feyre alone in her freezing cell. He slept on silk sheets and ate some of Prythian’s finest food every evening. Not only that, but her first trial was rapidly approaching, and he had made almost no progress in gaining her trust. He hadn’t been back to visit her, but he had checked in on her thoughts a handful of times. They ranged from bored, to angry, to fearful. She was pondering the riddle but hadn’t come closer to the right answer.

Six days after his initial visit, he convinced himself that he had waited long enough. It was midday, and Amarantha was sound asleep. She had dismissed him after he had serviced her – a rare mercy. It also gave him the perfect window of opportunity to visit his painter again.

“Go to hell, Rhysand,” she said, sounding bored when he appeared.

“What – no Rhysand, apple of all eyes, or Rhysand, all my waking moments are consumed with thoughts of you?” he purred.

She glared at him - a sight that was becoming quite familiar. “What do you want now?”

“The same thing I wanted to do last time. To see how you’re faring down here, Feyre.”

“How the fuck would you be faring, in my shoes?” she spat.

“You’ll find you have no idea what my shoes are like,” he shot back. Cauldron, what was it about this woman that set him ablaze so quickly?

“How is Tamlin?” she finally asked.

“The High Lord of Spring is doing perfectly fine, as far as I can tell. Amarantha has been dragging him around like a puppy, but he hasn’t so much as budged.” He said truthfully.

That seemed to bring her some satisfaction. “Good,” was all she said.

“Does it bother you? That he hasn’t been down here to see you?” he said the question in his same coy, teasing tone, but he longed to know the answer.

“What does it matter to you?”

“Feyre, please. I – I can’t lose you again.” He blurted it out before he even realized what he was saying. But it certainly got her attention.

Fuck, this was really starting to wear on him. In his desperation to monitor Feyre at every hour, he had barely been getting any sleep.

“What?” That got her attention, and she turned to him at last. A crease formed between her brows, trepidation in her eyes.

How much could he tell her without obliterating any chance of earning her trust? With his powers stolen, he didn’t dare to go in her mind and wipe away the thought. As much as he hated to admit it, he was out of practice on human minds, and he certainly wouldn’t be testing his theories on his painter.  

But if he played it right – perhaps having her know could prove advantageous. He just had to make sure he didn’t sound insane.

Feyre was still waiting for his reply.

In the quiet, he used his magic to feel for any listening ears. Years of intuitively knowing when Azriel was nearby had honed his senses well.

“What do you think my goal is, here?”

Feyre frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“Just tell me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I assume to save your own skin and piss Tamlin off however you can.”

Well, her assumptions could have been much worse.

“Feyre, I need you to listen to what I’m about to say, and not make any assumptions or jump to conclusions until I’m done.”

“Why should I trust you?” She spat. 

“Have I done anything to cause you harm thus far?”

“No, but-“

He cut her off, knowing he would never get a word in edgewise over his painter if he didn’t.

“I have been Amarantha’s lackey under this Mountain for forty-nine years. Most of them have been long, the same things happening year after year. But months ago, something changed. I had a dream.”

Skepticism danced across her face.

“I dreamed of a young woman, drawing her bow in a snowy forest. Aiming at a deer first, and then a wolf, which she shot with remarkable precision. It left me with a strange feeling in my chest, but I cast it aside, convinced it was only an exceptionally clear dream. But the feeling didn’t go away. On Calanmai, I felt a strange inclination to visit the Spring Court. Another unusual feeling – I’ve made a point to avoid that court and the sycophants that live there for years. So I ignored the pull. I barely believed you were real, much less human, until I saw you for the first time, in the dining room with Tamlin and Lucien when I interrupted your dinner.

“That’s not –“

He kept going, or he knew he would never finish. It was best to keep this part succinct anyway. “By then, Tamlin’s time was almost up. He sent you away to protect you, but you came back, came Under the Mountain, just as you did now. But your timing was poor, in a way you had no control over, and Amarantha was angry, and I tried to protect you from her wrath, but – things didn’t end well. We both died, and I was prepared to meet the Mother.”

“And then….I had the same dream, of you killing the wolf. And I woke up the same way I had the time before, and I watched the same events unfold before my eyes, only changed by my interference. Not just once. Over and over. You always killed the wolf, you always came to Prythian and fell for Tamlin. And eventually, I realized that I’m stuck in some kind of loop, reliving the same events over and over again.”

“You’re insane,” Feyre breathed, taking a step back.

No, no, no. He couldn’t let this go poorly.

“Let me prove it to you,” he said, extending his hand. “Mind to mind.”

“I’m not letting you in my mind again,” she said, taking another step back. “I felt you, back in the dining room in the Spring Court. Tamlin has told me plenty about you, you know. I’m not a fool.”

He took a step towards her, bridging the space between them. Even as both of their lives hung on the line, something was electrifying about arguing with her like this. It made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. He could admire her stubbornness, even as it worked against him.

“And what has Tamlin told you?” he asked softly.

“That you’re responsible for terrible things.”

“And you believe everything Tamlin tells you? Even when he concealed this whole mess from you?”

“That was part of the curse. He couldn’t help it.”

“Couldn’t he?” Rhys raised an eyebrow.

Feyre dropped his gaze at last, falling silent.

“I swear to you, on the Mother that I will not harm you. Nor will I enter your mind again without permission.”

He watched her consider for a long moment, fingers fidgeting at her sides in an attempt to appear unruffled.

“Fine.”

She didn’t hide her scowl as she held out her hand, and Rhys considered telling her that he didn’t need physical connection to initiate it, but refrained. This was, after all, the first time she had willingly let him touch her.

He took her callused hand in his – though his was much too smooth, after all these years away from weapons that had once been like an extension of his arm.

For a brief moment, he considered showing her Velaris, snippets of his happy memories. If things went awry, he could always start the loop over again. But even that felt too risky. He couldn’t divulge it.

Instead, he did what he had promised and entered her mind. Gently, like walking through a forest in autumn and trying to avoid snapping a stick.

“See? Not so bad, is it?”

“Can we get this over with?”

He caught brief glimpses of her thoughts. Wondering if he was insane, wondering if she was insane for letting such a mentally unstable individual near her.

A strong sense of curiosity, too.

Good. That meant that not all was lost.

He showed her his memories of the first time he had watched her shoot the wolf, and their meeting in the dining room, and standing before Amarantha. He skipped over their deaths – that was the last thing he wanted to show her. Instead, he skipped ahead through other loops, showing their interactions or things he had watched her do.

Selfishly, he tried to pick the ones that painted him in a more flattering light.

After he had sifted through all the half-decent memories from previous loops, he switched gears. She needed to see more of him to trust him, and Velaris was too risky. But there were other things he could show.

He sent memories of him drinking with Mor, sitting at a desk next to Amren, piles of documents surrounding them both. Flying with Cassian and Azriel.

He could feel her jolt of surprise at the last one, at the revelation of his wings.

How peculiar, for that to be the thing she found most shocking.

At last, the memories ended. He could have sifted through her thoughts some more to find out what Feyre was thinking, but he found himself wanting to hear her voice her thoughts on her own.

She was staring at him in stunned silence as she pulled her hand away from his.

“Well?” Rhys promoted. “I’m sure it’s a lot to take in.”

She took a few steps backward, dropping back on the pallet, eyes wide.

“So you and I are all just players in this sick game? No – I’m not even a player. I’m a pawn.”

“Feyre –“ he tried to interject.

“If we fail, you’re the one that has to do this all over again. I – this version of myself, and everything I’ve gone through – I don’t even die. I just cease to exist.”

Rhys thought he might have preferred being in her position to reliving the same months over and over, but he kept that thought silent.

“It’s not fair. But – we’ve never done it like this before. We have to believe that this time, we’ll make it through.”

“How many times have you said that to me?”

“Never,” Rhys admitted. “I’ve never told you that we’re in a loop before.”

At that, the tiniest sliver of amusement appeared on her face.

“Well, that would explain why you did such a piss-poor job of it.”

“But you believe me?”

She exhaled, letting out a huff of air. “Unless you have some insane strategy, I don’t know why you would be making it up.”

“I meant everything I said earlier,” he finally said.

This was so, so far off the course of his original plan.

“We have never worked together before. If we do, I believe we can get out of here.”

What came after that, he truly had no clue.

“What about those other memories, Rhysand?” she asked. “The ones that weren’t part of the loop? Were those just to make yourself look good?”

“Would you think worse of me if I said yes? I won’t lie, I’ve done some monstrous things. But they have all been in the name of keeping my people, my family, safe.”

That seemed to resonate with something deep in her, and he watched as she seemed to mentally to go some far-off place for a moment.

“And Clare?” she murmured.

He offered up another bit of truth. “It was her or you.”

A grim line of determination creased on her forehead, and Feyre was silent for a long, long moment. Rhys again had to stop himself from instinctually reaching into her mind to see what she was thinking.

“Alright,” Feyre said at last. “What’s your plan?”

Rhys could have fallen to his knees before her at the relief he felt.

“You go through the trials like nothing has changed, you’re still fighting for Tamlin’s love. I swear that I will be beside you every step of the way, keeping Amarantha’s attention off of you as much as I can. And for the love of the Mother, think on the riddle she gave you.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

“What about the trials? Do you know anything about those?”

He shook his head. Amarantha had been tight-lipped about whatever she had in store for “the puny human.”

The sound of footsteps drawing near to Feyre’s cell drew his focus. “We don’t have much more time.”

“I have so many more questions.”

“Next time we get a spare moment, I’ll answer them,” he promised, scanning her up and down as if signs of the truth between them could be seen on her.  

Before Feyre could respond, the door swung open, revealing the red-skinned, pot-bellied guards that escorted her everywhere. They tossed in a stale-looking piece of bread and a bruised, mushy apple.

It simply wouldn’t do.

Reaching into their minds was as easy as cutting through butter.

“No more of this slop. From now on, you’re to bring her a fresh, hot meal from the kitchens twice a day. Tell the others, and the kitchen staff, too. Stay out of her cell, and don’t touch her. If you do, you’re to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?”

Feyre straightened, staring at him with a mix of emotions he couldn’t entirely decipher – but Cauldron, how he wanted to.

“You’re welcome,” he purred instead. Her surprised eyes were the last thing he saw before he winnowed away again.

-

Rhys could scarcely believe how well things had been going.

Of course, if you considered his painter trapped Under the Mountain by a murdering psychopath “going well.”

If he had thought Feyre consumed his thoughts before, he had been wrong. Having her in such a close proximity, not loathing him, felt like a fantasy.

Rhys did his best to make good on his promise. Each day, he made a point to send a hot meal to her cell. He was getting the sense that Feyre’s first trial would be some kind of physical test, and she had to keep her strength up. He installed wards that muffled the sounds of the screams that tore through the walls to Feyre’s cell at all hours.

In his free seconds, he found excuses to sneak back down to the dungeons under the guise of emotionally tormenting Feyre.

In reality, he was doing his best to satisfy her insatiable curiosity. She did her best to act nonchalant, but Rhys recognized the curiosity, the stubbornness, behind the mask. He knew it because the same traits were reflected in him.

Talking with her was a…disarming experience. She had seen him without the mask he had worn for so long. She saw the desperation that lay underneath without him having to voice it. It only made him question more why the Cauldron had shoved them together into this wretched situation.

“A question for a question,” he finally said one night, after she pressed him for more information on the Night Court. “You’re learning all of my secrets, but I can’t say the same. I’ll answer one of yours if you answer one of mine.”

Pure selfishness, on his part. He couldn’t help it.

She raised her eyebrows. “What about me could possibly interest you, Rhysand?”

“Rhys,” he corrected automatically. “And I think you’re drastically underselling yourself, darling.”

She shifted uncomfortably on the hay pallet. Even after everything he told her, she was still fiercely protective of her secrets; especially the human family she had left behind.

“Fine.”

“You said you’ve seen this over and over again. How do they end? Is it always with me dying?””

“Not always,” Rhys replied honestly. “Sometimes I go first.”

That set her mouth in a grim line.

“I know you like to paint,” he said. “Why?”

She gave him a funny look. “I always enjoyed it, even as a child. My mother hated that out of all the talents that were suitable for a young lady, I had an affinity for the one that was as messy and wild as I was. And when things changed and my family lost our fortune, painting became a rare luxury. A bit of color in my dreary life, I guess.”

When they weren’t asking questions, Rhys prepped her about the different trials Amarantha might have in store. The first one was less than a week away, and he was still in the dark about it. It could have been some kind of duel, or puzzle, or perhaps an archery test. Amarantha had remained impossibly tight-lipped about it.

Whatever it was, Rhys knew Feyre would prevail. The hours he had spent in her cell, getting to know her, had only strengthened his opinion on that. And if for any reason, she stumbled, he would be there to pick her back up.

They had each other now, and this strange, tentative trust. They would not fail.

-

At last, the day of Feyre’s first trial was upon them.

The day prior, Amarantha had her lackeys bring in some sort of muddy labyrinth, hauled up from the catacombs somehow and reassembled in a giant pit. And in the early morning hours, when Rhys gazed upon the completed project, he knew what awaited Feyre in a few hours.

“Feyre – I know what your first trial is. She’s going to have you outrun and hunt the Middengard Wyrm.” 

He was at a loss for how to describe the wretched creature, so instead, he sent an image of it into Feyre’s mind, well aware of how terrifying the creature was.

He felt the tide of horror rise up in her mind.

“She wants me to kill that thing?”

“Yes – but Feyre, the Middengard has weaknesses. It’s blind, and it relies on smell. It knows its lair like nothing else, but if you can disrupt it, you’ll throw it off. I’ll be a second pair of eyes for you, too. Don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” she responded, voice shaky.

Oh, she had no idea how not easy all of this was.

Later in the morning, he found himself back in Amarantha’s bedchambers, where she sat at her vanity and brushed out her long hair, her back to him. 

“Rhysand,” she mused as he came in. “You haven’t gotten anything else interesting out of the human, have you?”

“No, my queen. It seems she truly loves Tamlin. She believes with all her heart that she’ll be able to free him.”

The Deceiver scoffed. “And you haven’t noticed anyone helping her? Nobody developing any attachments.”

“Not at all.”

Her smile, slippery as a snake, curled upwards in the mirror’s reflection.

“Very good.”  

-

An hour later, Amarantha’s court had gathered around the pit that held the Middengard’s lair, waiting for Feyre’s entrance.

In a typical move for her, Amarantha had her throne moved into here so she could preside over the festivities above everyone else. A smaller chair had been brought in for Tamlin, who sat beside her.

That was another merciful thing about Feyre and Tamlin’s presence down here. It saved him from having to be at Amarantha’s right hand as often.

Feyre was brought in, escorted by her usual guards, and Rhys was again struck by how small she looked. But she held her head high, chin jutted out in defiance.

“So, dear Feyre, are you ready for your first trial?” Amarantha crooned. She looked especially bloodthirsty today, dressed in a long-sleeved black gown. There was a glint in her eyes that Rhys didn’t like.

In response to Amarantha, Feyre nodded.

“Well, I have been ready too,” Amarantha continued. “I’ve been excited to see how you’ll fare against the little surprise I have for you. But I suppose it won’t be much of a surprise, will it?” Her tone turned icy.

What?

“Imagine my shock, Amarantha said, “When someone came to me this morning with a full report. Telling me that someone’s been helping you the past few weeks. Fresh meals, warm blankets. Information.”

No, no no –

Who had betrayed him? He had been so careful.

He raked through his past interactions, doing his best to keep his face a blank mask, only cocking an eyebrow.

Amarantha’s hawkish gaze whipped around to him.

“Rhysand,” she hissed. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Gasps of shock and rapid whispering went up around the room.

“I don’t know what you're referring to, my queen,” Rhys replied smoothly. He wasn't afraid for himself - only Feyre. He had withstood Amarantha’s wrath many times before, and he would do it again.

“Liar,” she hissed, and before Rhys knew what was happening, a wall of force hit him, sending him crashing to his knees. 

No, not again -

He struggled to bring himself to his knees before another wave of her stolen power hit him, sending him back to the floor.

The throng of people that had been near him scurried out of the way.

“You’ve been helping her. Giving her comforts, preparing her for the trials.” 

Her questioning earlier had been a test.

“No!” A voice shouted from the other side of the room - Feyre’s. “He hasn't been helping me. You're wrong.”

Her attempt to spare him was touching, but Rhys knew it was too late for them. And it only turned Amarantha’s attention back to his painter. 

Tamlin seemed to finally remember that he could speak. “Amarantha, no. You can’t harm her, you made a bargain with her.”

Amarantha laughed – a horrible, high-pitched sound, and Rhys felt the pit of dread growing in his stomach. There had to be some way to salvage this. They had come so far.

“You’re finally defending her? When she only has eyes for Rhysand, of all people? The bargain is only upheld if the human’s heart is still set on you, Tamlin. And there is nothing in our agreement that stops me from tearing her apart whenever I please.”

Rhys stopped caring about Tamlin and whatever pathetic, useless pleas he had when Amarantha extended a clawed nail towards his painter. 

Her hand flicked, and Rhys watched, still crushed on the ground, as Feyre joined him on the unforgiving floor with a scream.

He knew this was the end. 

“You should apologize to me, human. I offered you a chance, I arranged this entire trial, just for you. And yet you refuse to play fairly.”

Her limbs twisted, going in directions that made him nauseous. 

His body was on fire, but he reached for Feyre’s mind.

 “Feyre,” he rasped, unintentionally saying it out loud, too. 

“Rhys, are you there?” Feyre asked.

He sent out a wave of comfort, as much as he could manage as he fought through the fog of his own. “I’m sorry Feyre, I wanted this to go differently.”

“If she spares you somehow – don’t let her find my family.”

He knew she wouldn’t, and the moment Feyre’s heart stopped beating, it wouldn’t matter anyway, but he didn’t say that.

“I won’t let her find them.”

“I guess you’ll see me in the next loop,” she said, sounding strained under the wave of pain, making her thrash and scream through gritted teeth.

He heard the snap, snap, snap, of her bones, and reached for her mind, to take away the pain as he had done before.

SNAP

A roar of pain coming from Feyre’s mind, and then, silence.

Amarantha had underestimated the durability of humans in her rage.

And this –

All of this – had been for nothing.

He had tried so hard to plan things out, to do it differently this time, and it was all for nothing.

Searing pain sliced through his body once more as he shifted, his gaze meeting Amarantha’s. She had stood from the throne, face twisted into a snarl above him. 

“Traitorous filth. After all these years, you try to deceive me?”

“I hope you burn in hell,” Rhysand spat with the remainder of his energy.

Her sneering face was the last thing he saw before the world dropped away into darkness.

[itsbubbleteataro]

Down the well and into hell? (2/?)

Paring; Platonic!Alastor x fem reader

Warnings; Alastor being Alastor, Angel being Angel, swearing

Description; exploring the grounds of the new cabin you have recently inherited, you find an old well. A well that seems to go on forever. After falling down it you find yourself, a human in hell. after being taken in by Charlie and Vaggie they warn you to stay away from Alastor. But what happens when the human decides that the overlord just may be the key to safety and possibly home?

"Woah woah there, no. Look Alastor, if you want to stay as the manager of this hotel you can't go around trying to make deals with our guests"

Vaggie says, her voice firm as she stands up placing herself between you and the stag like demon.

Alastor's smile remains as he presses his lips together forming a thin line resembling a grinch smile as his ears press to the back of his head. He hums, sounding atune to an off key bee before he snaps his fingers. A grand looking vintage chair poofs its way into existence with swirls of green smoke.

"Very well Vaggie, if you so insist"

He responds as he takes a seat, one leg over the other, his staff held close in one of his hands as Angel dust speaks up.

"Ok sugar tits, you got a looooot of explaining to do. How in the hell did you a human, end up in well, Hell?"

You can feel the room's eyes shift to look at you as Charlie motions for you to tell your story. Taking a deep breath you tell them about the cabin you had gotten from to ur grandfather, the old water well you were so foolishly leaning over, all the way up to the moment where Charlie and Vaggie found you.

As you finish up your story a small yet very fast blur of neon pink and yellow flies by who Charlie clears up is the maid Nifty. You again, nod your head really unsure how you're even wrapping your head around the fact that not only hell is real but also your own old well just so happens to be a one way ticket straight down.

Taking note of your weary eyes, Charlie helps you up off the couch,

"Oookaaay well you seem tired. Let's get you up to bed so you can get some rest. I think I should have a change of pajamas that should fit you. Here come this way"

Hand in hand the two of you head up some stairs that creak under your weight. Charlie opens up one of the many doors on the third floor, motioning for you to go ahead and go inside.

You manage a smile and walks inside, taking in the ripping wallpaper, the neatly made bed, the two windows that look out onto pentagram city.

Spinning on your heels you face Charlie,

"Thank you Charlie. This is the nicest anyone has been to me all day. And thanks again for dealing with that, uh, dog looking guy?"

The two of you exchange a smile,

"Oh don't worry about it! It's okay! Really, don't worry about it! Oh! It looks like Vaggie has already warned you about Alastor, good, so that's one last thing off my list. I'll be back in a bit with some pajamas! Make yourself at home!"

Charlie starts to close the door before she pokes her head back in,

"And don't worry! We will get you back to Earth. If Alastor can't figure something out I'll get my dad involved"

With that, the door closes and you are left alone with your thoughts. Deciding to look around the room a bit, you are very please to discover that it has its own bathroom with a shower. Peaking through the shower curtain you find that the appropriate toiletries are already stocked.

Pealing your dirty shirt off you start the shower water and close the bathroom door. You look at your exposed half in the mirror and frown, finding all kinds of bruises and now dried cuts that litter your arms and chest. Shaking your head you free yourself from the rest of your clothing before hopping in the shower.

Sighing as the warm water hits your back, you think about the fact that the well exists on the land your grandfather passed down to you. Wth a hum you think about how strange it is as massage shampoo into your scalp.

Why did your grandfather have such a well in the first place? You remember him always being on the strange side, always spending his time in the cabin, his nose stuck in a book seemingly obsessed with a the thirst of knowledge.

It clicks as you wince your hair and begins to rake your fingers through it. You're in hell, the literal afterlife. Judging by the sheer amount of people that you have seen on your walk from where you fell up to the hotel there's a very good chance that your grandfather could be here. You won't lie to yourself, you do feel a bit giddy about being able to talk to your grandfather again, but remind yourself that he most likely has the key to you returning home. But just how would you find him? A human in hell just from the sound alone is a recipe for disaster.

With a sigh you shut the water off and reach for a towel, deciding that it would become tomorrow's problem and not tonight's problem. Your body screams for you to just lay down as you exit the shower and wrap the towel around yourself.

Walking out of the bathroom you are pleasantly surprised to see that Charlie has dropped off a silk nightgown for you. You finish drying off your person and your hair before slipping it on. You do a little twirl infront of the mirror to take a look at it.

It's really nothing special but you think it's quite cute. The sleeves of it are thin, maybe a few centimeters thick (spegetti straps), the nightgown itself made from a white silk. A small bow sits in the center of the neckline. The bottom of the nightgown has a lace trim, making you smile at the simplicity of it all.

Hanging up the towel and shutting off the lights you crawl into bed, allowing sleep to take you much quicker than you thought.

****

You wake up some time in the morning, your body still with the dull ache as you climb out of bed. You pull a blanket around your shoulders as you trudge down the stairs, making a mental note of what stairs seem to creak more than others.

The smell of cinnamon wafts through the air as well as a wondrous sound of sizzling. Following your nose you find Alastor in the kitchen, coffee brewing in the older looking coffee machine.

The stag's suit jacket lays draped over a chair with his leather gloves piled neatly on top. His Staff leans against the chair, playing a soothing jazz mix from the 1930s. Alastor's sleeves of his dress shirt has been rolled up to his elbows. A plain apron lay over his dress shirt and pants as to not dirty them while he cooks. Your eyes quickly dart to his form, taking note of a stag looking tail before your gaze returns to the breakfast he's cooking.

Stepping closer you can tell he hears you based off how his left ear flicks, picking up on your footsteps.

"Why good morning (Y/n), care for some breakfast? I was just finishing it up before I head out to an overlord meeting"

He greets, not even turning around to look at you as he flips some of the French toast he's been cooking for who knows how long as his shadow goes to fetch two mugs, pouring coffee for you and himself.

"Wait overlord meeting?"

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

Thank you so much for reading! I should be posting pt 3 tomorrow? I'll be doing a char study for a request so hopefully I get to posting a few more things today!

[writing-with-syd]

Shot in the Dark || Blaise Zabini × GN!Muggleborn!Reader

Summary: Blaise can’t help his feeling for you, a muggle, but you know it could never work between you two.

Warning(s): mentions of war

Word-count: 1.3k

The moon served as a light to blanket the night with its dim glow, illuminating the aged stone of the castle. A small gust of autumn wind and the soft steps of two pairs of shoes echoed through the halls. Paired with small fits of laughter and a hushed exchange of words. Who knew that one drunken night would bring two unlikely forces together. Which only led to stolen glances and smitten smiles.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going, Blaise?" Y/n asked, their tone full of playfulness; all the while, their vision was intercepted by the green and silver printed tie. 

"Do people always ask so many questions in the muggle world?" He replied, guiding them among the steps of the astronomy tower. 

"Only when a strange man is leading them somewhere blindfolded." 

Y/n bared a smile, and although Blaise couldn't see the sight, his heart yearned. Soon feeling one creep onto his face as well. Once at the top of the stairs, Blaise strode behind Y/n; gently tucking at the knot, he said, "Open your eyes." His voice was delicate. 

Y/n followed the command and was greeted with the sight of the astronomy tower. Although now, candles were sprawled across the room. The candle flames and moonlight highlighted Y/n's features. In the middle of the room lay a bundle of blankets and pillows.   

"You did this all for me?" Y/n circled around the room. A million thoughts raced through their head. Wondering how one person can care so much. They only partially understood the amount of devotion you can feel. How one can come to be so vulnerable in such dark times. 

"I had some help." 

Y/n met their gaze, slowly moving towards him. All he could do was stand and wait. Admiring the beauty of the sight. Much as he admired every key detail about Y/n. He wasn't sure how it was possible. To look at someone and only see the future you'd hope to live with them. Wanting to be the first thing they see in the morning and the last at night. Y/n then filled the space between them. Their eyes scanned over his features as if trying to remember every little attribute. 

"You're staring." Said Y/n just above a whisper. Their eyes wandered over his face to land on his lips. 

"So are you." 

Their eyes met, and Y/n could have sworn it felt like two pieces were finally coming together. Deep down, they knew the pieces would only allude to fitting. Yet every fiber in their being wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against theirs. Release the years of passion and yearning trapped within them. But that wasn't possible. So they pulled away. Y/n turned their back to the Slytherin, forcing a smile, they said, 

"Watch the stars with me, Blaise." Within seconds they sat on the make-shift pallette. Their legs crisscrossed, and their hands folded in their lap.

"As you wish." He instantly moved his feet. Taking a spot next to Y/n. His mind still trying to decipher the meaning of what had just happened. 

Y/n's eyes had fled to the night sky. Taking up the impossible task and counting the stars. Silence filled the air. Neither was able to discover the cure to end it. Minutes passed by, only to feel like hours. And out of the corner of their eye, Y/n saw Blaise's view glued to them. As a result, they let out a laugh. Genuine, sincere laughter, Blaise's favorite sound in the entire world. He always took pride in being the reason they laughed so. Like it was his only purpose. 

"What?" He asked, following suit.

"You're staring again, Blaise." After the first word, Blaise knew there was a difference in how they spoke. Y/n's words felt alive and present at the moment. 

"What? I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"Not like that." Y/n's eyes were still attached to the darkness. 

"Like what?" 

Moments hesitation pulled Y/n out of the temporary bliss. They needed to remember what was to come. With a deep breath, Y/n tilted their head. Looking at the man next to them. Truly seeing him for the first time. Every hope and dream. Every fear and flaw. The very things they grew to adore about Blaise Zabini. Y/n began once more. 

"Like you want to kiss me."

"You used to let me look at you like that." 

"Then what changed?" 

"You did." 

A small smile began to form. Another wall was put up, another excuse to let, whatever this may be, fall. Y/n turned back to the night's vastness. Their expression was unreadable as they searched for an answer. A hint or a clue to tell them what the next step is. What the right step is. When none was found, Y/n's eyes fell. They had been fidgeting the entire time; how had they not realized? 

"How do you that. That thing that you do?" Y/n asked. Their voice was flat and hopes defeated. 

"How do I do what?" 

"How do you always find the way to be so full of hope." 

"It's one of my many talents." 

Another laugh. Leaving as quickly as it came. 

"Blaise, what are we doing?"

His features morphed into something unfamiliar. One of deep-rooted pain and confusion.

"Are we not doing what any other couple would do?" 

"We're not... I have to go. This was a mistake." They quickly get to their feet. They shake their head as though this is all some dream they're trying to wake up from. 

"What? Wait, Y/n, stop." 

Blaise gets up to grap Y/n's hand. When he takes hold of it, he's reminded of how perfectly it fits in his. His touch pleaded for them to stay. Y/n's eyes wandered over to where their hands met. Yanking it away, freeing themself from Blaise's touch. Meeting him with resistance.

"So what? You're just going to walk away? You're just going to give up on us?" His words trembling with anger. With fear and disbelief. 

A thick uncomfortable silence takes over. Whatever the intended mood was for the night was drowned out. 

"There was no us, Blaise. There could never be an us." 

"Why." 

"You know why." 

He searched their expression. Looking for a crack in the foundation, a path in. Only to find Y/n had fortified every wall. He had no way of telling what thoughts fled through their mind. No way of telling if this was all a sick joke or a nightmare he had yet to wake from. All he knew was that his heart was breaking a million times over. 

"I love you." His words were desperate for a response. 

"No... no, you don't." 

"I love you, Y/n, I do."

"Blaise, stop. You don't mean that. 

"I mean every word... I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it drives me crazy to not be near you. I love you so much that I'd do anything for you. And I know that you love me too. I can feel it. So please, Y/n, just tell me what you want from me. Tell me why we can't be together."  

"Fine." They look up at Blaise with all remaining strength. Tears frantic spill, and their voice is cold as stone. 

"There is a war coming, Blaise. I am a muggle-born. I am risking my life every moment I am near you, every word we exchange. I'm putting my parents' lives in danger. You were right... I do love you. But at least I have the common sense to admit what we're doing is wrong. And if you love me like you claim you do, you'll have enough self-decency to admit it too."

Their words were abrasive, cutting him like a knife. Y/n forcefully wiped the tears running down. Wiping their nose with the back of their hand. The struggle to return to a composed state was unbearable, with each step taking them further from the tower. For a second, but only for a second, Y/n felt nothing but regret. Regret for the moments they shared, the ones that will never fade and won't happen again. Regret for the future they had spent hours upon hours discussing, wrapped safely in each other's arms. But mainly regret for not being brave enough to stay.  

[merfairymakes]

For Poison Ivy, I went with a Petrified Wood because of course I had to go with something plant-based. She's also the first of the gems I'm drawing without a canon counterpart.

Credit goes to @artifiziell again for the base, and for the gem type.

Now, time to get into her lore! First I want to start out by explaining the role Petrified Woods have in Gotham gem society. Initially their purpose was to prepare planets for colonization by bringing all life to peak fertility.

But after a major civil war and the remaining diamonds stepping down as leaders, Gotham began shifting it's gem production into more sustainable methods. Petrified Woods were a key part in this, maintaining the organic life Kindergartens instead of letting gem production to suck all the life away.

Eventually a new way to produce gems was discovered and developed, but I won't get too into that just yet. The important part is that the process involves growing and harvesting organics.

All Petrified Woods have an innate ability to sense how a plant is doing, whether it needs water or sunlight, how deep its roots go, or if there's some kind of affliction keeping it from growing.

For Poison Ivy specifically, her connection with plants has always been much higher than most, to the point where being around plants that are being harmed causes her a great amount of distress. So you can imagine how she feels about the practice of harvesting plants to make new gems.

The last straw for her is when the land that nature preserve she was maintaining gets taken away from her to make room for a new prison for defective gems. The project of course, being headed by Brown Zircon (aka Harvey Dent). Her backstory differs from BTAS in that instead of poisoning her, she lures Zircon into her greenhouse and imprisons her in a plant, leading Batquartz to investigate where she went.

As usual transparent close-ups are under the cut