#really need to read that but none of the libraries close by have it :(

[deer-with-a-stick]

Just had a friend ask me what my favorite places in Middle Earth were, fully expecting for me to say something along the lines of Mirkwood, Rivendell, or Lothlorien, and ended up staring at me when I said Erebor, Himring, Khazad-dum, and Gondolin.

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I’ve been reading your poly!marauders x femreader and was wondering if you could possibly write about the reader having a vision while being with only the marauders, and how they would react and help reader without Barty or Reggie being there to help her? Maybe the vision can be another cute moment with the boys and reader not wanting to tell them what she saw and trying to walk away but they stop her and eventually get it out of her? Also,I love how you write the characters and portray their relationships :) Thank you so much!!!

This ended up a bit angstier than you had requested? But I think our girlie-pop needs to work through some of her shit before we’re really leaning into the cutesy stuff so I hope this works for now! It’s not like I’ve already got the next part planned or anything…….. 👀😅

poly!marauders x seer!reader where they witness her first Sight alone

CW: fem!reader, angst? w/ a happy ending, hurt/comfort, reader still stubborn as all hell, boys still relentless as ever - but we’re getting somewhere folks!!

There was no sense in feeling agitated with the Marauders; you noticed a simmering resentment bubbling up within you whenever your mind began to stray towards them, but it could hardly be considered their fault.

Just one of the many consequences of the ability of Sight; gradual feelings forming over ideas and thoughts and imagines that aren’t real, haven’t happened, and may never happen. There was an undeniable soft appreciation - dammit, maybe even love - for the three boys growing in your heart, but it hurt.

It hurt because it was an outcome of experiences that they haven’t had, that they haven’t shared with you; it was simply feelings for versions of these boys that don’t even exist yet.

But it was becoming difficult to separate your Sights of them from them; it was becoming harder and harder to remind yourself that the love you were feeling wasn’t real, at least not yet.

Yet.

That was the worst part - yet - seeing as none of these supposedly sweet moments taking place between you and the boys have ever really taken place, save that one of your impromptu Hogsmead date.

And whatever agitation you felt only tripled when you heard their voices in the library and your face broke out in an involuntary smile.

Stupid lovesick girl.

“There’s our princess!” Sirius cheered loudly as he spotted you, earning him more than a few severe glares from surrounding tables as he sloppily (and loudly) plopped himself onto the bench at the table across from you.

“Do try not to get us kicked out when we’ve only just found her, yeah?” Remus muttered quietly, though he seemed no less pleased with his boyfriend despite his scolding.

Sirius made a dismissive scoffing sound as Remus took a seat beside him and James across from him (and, decidedly less importantly, beside you). “I’d like to see them try; my family paid for this sodding library.”

“Charming, Black.” You muttered as you kept your face pointed towards the notes in front of you.

From your periphery you could see Sirius flash you a salacious grin; all sharp canines and cocky attitude. “Thanks dolly; I think so too.”

“You’re exhausting.” You let out with a sigh.

“I have been told I’m ex-”

“-Exhilarating, we know.” James finished for Sirius, seemingly already knowing exactly what the boy was going to quip.

“See? Everyone agrees.”

“Feel free to ignore him.” Remus interjected then, looking at you softly.

So softly. In ways you’ve Seen him do many times but have never yet experienced.

It made you ache with want; wanting so badly for it to be real and then hating yourself for wanting it at all.

“You okay, dove?” He asked then; apparently seeing the conflict on your face.

And wasn’t that just the icing on the pastie.

“No, actually, I’m not.” You huffed as you began to pack up your things.

Sirius said your name then; all teasing and flippantness gone from his tone as he sat up straight. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No.” You grumble; standing now but closing your eyes and pointing your face to the ceiling in frustration.

‘It’s not you, it’s me’ sits on the very tip of your tongue, threatening to spill out but you just can’t bring yourself to release the words.

You hate this feeling; the lack of control in the direction that your life was seemingly going, moving through the motions unwillingly as fate pulled on the strings of your soul like some poorly mistreated puppet.

“Don’t go.” James all but whispered then; his hand seemingly aching to reach for yours but clearly resisting the urge.

That only made you feel worse.

You let out a breath and started to lower yourself back to your seat on the bench when you recognized the familiar feeling of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere; the dreaded sensation of being submerged under cold water followed by the neurons firing in your brain as they were gently plucked from their existing pathways and ushered towards a new reality.

No, you begged hopelessly, not here, not now.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across the table; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.”

Your knees buckled beneath you as you nearly fell into your seat; two strong arms quickly caught you by your elbows before James carefully lowered you to the bench.

“Easy, doll.” Sirius coached calmly albeit worriedly from across the table as you heaved in a much needed breath. “Easy.”

You felt your sinuses swell as you took a few more breaths, realising belatedly that you had three boys that you were rather quite taken with staring at you in one of your most vulnerable states.

They already had so much of you - much more than they may ever know - you didn’t want to give them this, too.

Your vision blurred through the tears that threatened to spill from them; placing your elbows on the table in front of you so roughly that it left your fingertips buzzing, you covered your face behind your hands and fought to steady your breathing.

“You’re okay, dove.” Remus whispered from across from you; his leg under the table creeping over to apply pressure to the inside of your calf. You were thankful for the grounding effect it provided.

“Can you look at me, sweetness?” Sirius asked quietly as James tried pulling gently at your arm.

You shook your head quickly and tried to say no, but all that came out of your mouth was a choked sob.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Sirius relented evenly as James moved his hand from your forearm to rest gently between your shoulder blades where it began making soothing swipes against your jumper. “You’re alright, yeah?”

All he got was another sob in response.

You felt James shift in his seat; legs straddled over the wooden bench so he was now facing you.

“C’mere angel.” He cooed at you, gently yet firmly encouraging you into his chest by a hand on your shoulder.

You melted into him.

“You’re alright; you’re just fine.” He said again.

You flinched slightly when you felt a gentle hand grip your ankle.

“Sorry, dovey.” Remus murmured softly, rubbing his thumb over your Achilles tendon apologetically before pressing it to a soft spot on the outside of your ankle.

“Come back to us, pretty girl.” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry.” You admitted; voice pinched emotionally as you continued hiding behind your hands.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” Remus assured you as James pressed a kiss to your hair. “Nothing at all.”

“I hate-” You paused around a pathetic hiccup as you finally deigned to pull your hands away from your now likely puffy and tear stained face. “I- I just-”

“You don’t have to explain.” Sirius offered at your next hiccup. “Just keep breathing.”

You realised only as Remus resumed moving his thumb back-and-forth against your ankle bone that he had paused to track your pulse much like he’d seen Regulus do that first day in the Great Hall.

A bitter taste filled your mouth when you thought of that Sight too; how much of your supposed ‘relationship’ with these boys would be of you breaking down in front of them?

“I hate seeing things that aren’t real; that haven’t happened, with versions of people who don’t even exist yet.”

James let out a sympathetic breath at your words as Remus’ brows furrowed forlornly.

“Do those versions not exist yet or have you just not given them a chance to?” Sirius asked you slowly.

You made a pained sound as you straightened from resting against James’ chest; you pretended not to notice the look of loss that crossed his face and ignored the same feeling aching within your chest.

“People can surprise you, y’know?” James offered then; hope colouring the vowels of his words as he spoke.

“I’m sure that, whoever they are,” Sirius started pointedly. “Would love the chance to be whoever you needed them to be.”

“That’s the problem.” You groaned, though you were sure they could tell that the fight was quickly oozing from your body with every swipe of Remus’ thumb or stroke of James’ hand against your shoulder blades. “I don’t need you to be anything.”

“So it was about us.” Sirius asserted; all caution vanished from his face and was quickly replaced with mirth.

You snorted incredulously at him and wiped roughly at your eyes as a reluctant smile spread across your face. “You are such a prat.”

“We could be your prats.” He quipped.

“Is that what you need, angel? Do you need some prats? Sirius and I are well versed; might need to coach Rem a bit but he’s a quick learner.”

“For Godric’s sake.” Remus sighed with a tired smile. “We’d been doing so well boys.”

“I hardly see how, seeing as you all made me cry.” You jeered as you pointed your nose in the air, causing all three boys to exclaim various objections.

“We’d only said hello.” James cried as Remus watched you stand and hike your bag over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“What was it that you Saw, then?” He asked; still smiling though his brows dipped challengingly.

You stared down at him for a few moments, though there was no need to search his eyes for clues; you suspected that he knew.

“This.” You admitted quietly.

A smile spread across Remus’ face; it was slow and pointed but you didn’t know quite what it meant. Yet.

“I’m glad I got to see it too.” He murmured with a smirk.

You tried to hide your blush as you left the library, fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl the entire way back to your dorm.

[azsazz]

Over Ice

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I think we could really have fun with the different courts and Illyrian values on a thematic basis but ALSO if the reader is in something very artsy and hasn’t really been into sports and then she’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!! She decides to wear Cass’ jersey to make him mad and when he finally gets a hold of her after the game: *cue innocent shrug* he asked me to!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3032

Notes: While I work on a plot for an azzy hockey x figure skater au, please enjoy a rhys hockey au 🤪

This was originally an Az idea but I thought it fit better for Rhys bby so here we are. I feel like I've forgotten how to write and this is shit (dont judge me im going thru smthin rn)

_________________________________________

A giant FU stares up at you.

Well, actually, it’s only an F, but it may as well be the former with the way it’s circled in thick, red ink.

Three. Fucking. Times.

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It never feels good, failing, and even if you’d gotten a C+ like you hoped, you would’ve still beaten yourself up over the grade because plain and simple: that’s who you are.

Two months ago, at the beginning of the semester, psychology had seemed like a breeze. The lectures were easy to listen to and intriguing, and you had no trouble following along with the professors’ slideshows as you took detailed notes of everything on the screen. Your assigned readings were completed in a similar state, though they weren’t graded but included important information you’d find on the tests.

Somewhere along the line, your grade slipped, and you don’t remember if it had been between studying for Biology or reveling in your newfound freedom away from your parents, partying and enjoying a true college experience with your roommates.

Whatever happened, the repercussions are hitting you right in the face, the taunting letter you have never seen before on any of your assignments throughout all your years of learning.

If your parents saw this, they would bring the entire house down with their scolding.

It’s not like you didn’t try. You studied, even if the word is a loose term for what material you used. Things started piling up this month, with it being a new semester and all. You didn’t schedule out the time to focus on psychology when the classes you were really interested in—Introduction to Nutrition and Kinesiology—took first and second place for your attention. Plus, with the number of social events your best friends—who are also conveniently your roommates—invited you too, it was almost impossible to say no. Friends are a vital part of the college experience and you were in desperate need of some fun after having spent the summer lounging at home with your parents.

You found a psych support group that met at the library once a week to study together. It wasn’t anything like you thought it would be, a bunch of clueless students with grades similar to yours. All they seemed to want to do with your precious time was bitch and moan about the professor instead of actually trying to conquer the areas of study for the upcoming test.

And now the consequences of your actions have made themselves known.

Grumbling, you shove the test into your binder before shutting it with a snap that does nothing to ease your frustration. A few students still trail from the room, though most bolted right after being released. Some linger at the bottom of the lecture hall where the professor sits, answering their questions.

You have about a million-and-one of your own but you’re too worked up about your grade to go down there and hash it out with Mr. Hybern. His peppery colored hair is perfectly coiffed on this terrible day, his beard trimmed close to his jowls. His gleaming, golden skin makes you think that maybe he’d spent his weekend grading tests out in the sun, and you have half a mind to stomp your way down the stairs and demand a second review of your test.

It wouldn’t solve your irritation, and it would certainly be embarrassing if in fact your F is correct.

Placing your binder, notebook, and pens back into your bag, you zip it, sling it over your shoulder, and make your way to the exit, holding your chin high because if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, is cry over your terrible, awful grade in public.

The waterworks will just have to wait until you’re locked in your private bedroom in your shared dorm.

There is good news. It’s Friday, which means you can snag the pint of your favorite ice cream that your roommates won’t dare touch because ‘no ice cream that’s worth it should have fruit in it, that’s like asking for a steak on your spaghetti.’ You have no idea what Mor—one of your roommates—was on about when she brought up the awful comparison, and in reply all you’d done is scooped out a chunk of cherries embedded into the creamy, pink goodness and stuffed it into your mouth.

With it being the weekend, you can also wallow well into the night without having to worry about hiding your puffy eyes in the morning. You’ll have all day tomorrow to figure out a plan of action, once you allow yourself the time to properly grieve and process…and maybe have a drink or two.

You shoulder through the heavy lecture hall door with your head down, hiding the red stain to your cheeks. So, maybe you’re not going to hold you head high as you trail back to your dorm, but you will not cry.

The door swings open and you barely catch the noise of surprise before you’re barreling into something that’s akin to a brick wall. Your breath leaves your body in a whoosh and your balance slips out from under you, arms flailing as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact, but it never comes.

Slowly, mortified because you know exactly what’s cushioned your fall, you peek your eyes open, carefully meeting a sapphire gaze that surely would take your breath away should you have any left.

This close, you can see the perfection of his angular features: a long, straight nose, high cheekbones under the dusting of pink that caresses his own face. His lashes are dark as charcoal, the same color of his hair that looks as soft as silk.

Whatever it is that has you entranced by his beauty, the sentiment seems to be mutual. Those bright eyes trace across your features, carefully drinking you in. You don’t know if you’re thankful that your face is already as red as the marker on your test or if you want him to see the way your cheeks go molten.

There’s a warmth against your hips that you don’t notice until he speaks, his hands that have a solid grip around you, keeping you steady to his chest. His whispered breath brushes across your lips. “By all means,” he teases softly, “Take your time.”

“Oh, my Gods, I am so sorry,” you squeak, rolling off his chest. You can hear his chuckling as you scramble to climb to your feet, but your knees are so weak at the sight—and touch—of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lifting gracefully to his feet, holding a hand down to help you up.

You try not to notice just how big his hand is in yours, and for the second time today, you fail.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says, displaying an easy grin that makes your heart stutter in your chest. The door opens with a loud click and the both of you startle. His hand comes down warmly on your spine, ushering you out of the way of the student that’s beaming grin falters into apology at the idea of almost running you down, already on the phone with someone and gushing over their test result.

It’s hard to reign in your glare.

The student’s conversation seems to jolt the man out of his stupor. He blinks, shaking his head as if to rid him of a spell you might have cast on him, or maybe he’s testing to see if he has a concussion from the fall.

When he returns his attention to you, it takes everything in your power not to melt into a puddle beneath that gaze.

“Is Mr. H still passing out tests?” he asks, and you swallow the sourness that accompanies the name of your professor. You and he are not on good terms right now, not that this boy knows that.

“Yeah,” you answer, remembering you saw him sitting on his throne (desk chair) with his loyal citizens (students) kissing his feet (talking through their tests). “I think so.” Then, because you’re pretty sure you would remember a face like his if he were in your lecture, you ask, “Are you in this class?”

“No,” he answers with a scoff that tells you he breezed by this class. “I took Psych 101 freshman year, but I have Professor Hybern again for Cognitive Psychology and I need to turn in my paper early.”

Turning in a paper early? What is he, some kind of genius?

“Oh,” you answer lamely, “Cool.”

His answering grin cracks open the casing of the butterflies you didn’t know were living in your stomach, taking off in a flurry of emotion.

He shrugs like he couldn’t really care less about any of it, but to you, the fact that he’s managed to pass Psych 101 at all is an impressive feat, though you don’t know why he’d sign up for even more torture. “Sure. Look, I’ve got to run, but are you sure you’re okay?”

It’s nice of him to ask if you’re okay when he’s the one who had his back painted to the floor only moments ago. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I should be the one asking you that. Are you okay?”

His laughter is rich and warm, and you want to melt into it. Before you have the chance to make even more a fool of yourself in front of this handsome stranger, he answers. “I’ve been checked harder, darling. You have a nice day now.”

“Thanks, you too,” your words trail off as he catches the door on its next outswing, ducking inside without waiting for your response.

Jeeze, he must really be in a rush, then.

It’s when you exit the doors to the psychology building that you curse yourself. You should’ve gotten his number, his name at least. You could’ve invited him over for something more distracting and yummier than the ice cream you’d planned on demolishing.

At least you have something better to think about tonight than your test.

With a heavy sigh, you allow your backpack to fall off your shoulder. Now that you’ve arrived back to your dorm, you’re suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever.

The walk home from class had been nice, your time spent thinking about the boy you’d run into. The broadness of his shoulders you didn’t seem to notice until he turned away, stretching wide beneath his tight t-shirt. The bulge of his biceps beneath said t-shirt, flexing as he pulled the door open for himself. The shape of his ass in those snug jeans.

The sight of that is what had your eyes nearly popping from your head. What’s he doing that gives him such a bubblicious ass? Squats? Lunges? You can do those. You choose not to, but if there’s a guarantee that you’d have an ass like that, you’d start right this second.

Tucking your lip into your mouth in concentration, you plant your hands on your hips, making your way to the refrigerator that your ice cream is housed in, lunging your way there.

It’s not that far, the communal space in your shared dorm is small, but your heartrate is elevated by the time you’re two lunges away from your prize: your ice cream.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mother!” You shout as the voice of your roommate breaks your concentration. Your knees wobble and your thighs shake, unable to hold you up from the burst of exertion you used. You clearly need to get into the gym more, another thing to add to your already busy schedule. “You scared me!”

Mor rolls her chocolate-brown eyes, sliding into one of the stools at your counter. It’s not built for it, the laminate countertop doesn’t hang over the island far enough for your legs to fit, but you and your roommates thought they were cute, nonetheless. You can suffer having to hunch over your knees to reach your cereal bowls in the mornings in favor of having more space for company to sit.

When you haul yourself off the ground, you take in your roommate. She’s wearing some kind of jersey, one you’ve never even seen in her wardrobe before, and you probably spend more time in there than her because she has every item of clothing you could ever imagine. The top she’s wearing now totally clashes with everything that screams Mor: silk scarves, tight bodice tops, leather pants, and what she has on now isn’t even red, a color that’s a staple in her closet.

“Well, if you were paying attention,” she scolds playfully, flipping open the compact in her hand, checking her makeup in the tiny mirror. She makes a few faces that would make you chuckle if you didn’t notice how she looks like she’s ready to go out, and that means she’s going to try to drag you with. “You would’ve heard me walk into the room. I am wearing heels, you know.”

Of course you know. Mor doesn’t do sneakers, only when it’s five in the morning and the sun is still sleeping, the perfect time for working out where nobody will catch her. Maybe I should join her, you think, mind wandering back to that boy’s butt.

“Why are your cheeks all red?” She asks, planting her palms on the counter and leaning towards you, eyes narrowed in inquisition.

“Nothing,” you wave her off, reaching for the door to the freezer. It’s the last thing between you and the cherry chunk ice cream calling your name.

Before you can open it more than an inch, it slams closed, Mor’s sharp, bright red fingernails splayed out to stop you.

Damnit, how does she move so silently?

“What do you think you’re doing?” You question each other at the same time, biting back your smiles at the mistake.

She answers first. “Why do you look like you’re about to get the ice cream, put your pajamas on, and wallow in bed all night?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” you cross your arms over your chest defiantly. “So, if you’ll excuse me…” You trail off, hoping she’ll step away and leave you to your peace.

She doesn’t. That’s not Mor.

“I had a rough day!”

“You say that every day,” she whines, stomping her heel-clad foot. “Don’t you even want to know what I’m inviting you to tonight?”

“From the look of your clothes, no, I don’t want to know what you’re doing tonight, Mor, and no, I don’t want to join you, either.”

Your roommate scrunches her nose, tipping it towards the ceiling. “I’ll have you know that this outfit is cute.”

“Yeah, if the definition of cute changed to ‘not pleasing or appealing to look at.’”

“You take that back,” Mor shouts, full naming you.

As your lips part in apology, because that was rude of you, your other roommate pads out of her room. Her reading glasses are perched up on her nose, blue eyes round and wide, and it always looks like she’s looking around the room in wonder. She has a blanket thrown over her shoulders and looks every bit of cozy you wish you were.

“Gwyn,” you sigh in relief at the sight of her. “Please, help.”

“I already said no,” she offers you a sympathetic wince. “I don’t think there’s any getting you out of the hockey game, sorry babe.”

Now it’s your jaw that falls to the floor. No, it falls through the floor and about five more floors down, hitting the lobby with a crack that echoes through the building.

You whirl on Mor. “Hockey game? Since when have you been interested in hockey?”

“Since my cousin got named team captain this year,” she says smugly, and you don’t know why she’s acting vain, it just means that he’s captain of the douchebags now, even you know that. Mor turns, showing off the back of her jersey. The number one stands out like a beacon, and you brush her blonde hair over her shoulder to read the smaller patches spelling out what is in fact, her family name.

Cunningham.

“Think of all the parties we’ll get into,” she says over her shoulder, and she does have a point there. The athletes at your college are a group of students that you don’t ever interact with, nor do you care. Mor is all about connections though, and if she wants to go to the hockey game, then it looks like you’re going with her.

You wonder what excuse Gwyn used to get out of it. She looks mighty comfy right now, slinking over the plop down on the couch and turn on a movie.

“Why do we have to go to the game? Can’t we just go to the parties?” You ask, grasping for anything to get out of this. You don’t want to go sit in the cold arena and watch a bunch of guys wearing full-body padding slide up and down the ice. Why couldn’t her cousin have been on the baseball team? They have nice, tight uniforms.

“Because,” Mor emphasizes with a glare, spinning to face you once more to give you the full effect of her irritation. “I’m a good cousin, and if we don’t attend the games, we’re going to be blacklisted from the parties,” she grumbles, the fight leaving her a little bit. “I’ve already argued about it with Rhys, I don’t want to have to argue with you too.”

It’s with your sigh that Mor brightens. “Fine. I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to be happy about it. And don’t expect me to cheer.”

Her squeal pierces the sound barrier. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

Mor grabs your hand, dragging you towards the empty single room that’s left in your dorm. She uses it as an extension of her closet until someone else gets placed with you. So far, you’ve been lucky, living here since freshman year, just the three of you. “Great! I got you a shirt!”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

[moviecritc]

like the movies ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x actress!reader

summary: even though you've been all your life acting, you never experienced a love like the movies, until max appeared in your life

word count: 1.7K

warnings: none, just pure fluff

a/n: I'm going through a max verstappen phase, so if you have any requests for a blurb or something cute, send them <3

english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

"Are you breaking up with me over the phone? While I'm on my way to your parents' house? Are you stupid or what?" With each sentence, Y/N's voice grew louder.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry. But…"

"But my ass! Don’t you have any common sense?"

She could hear her boyfriend sigh, and she sighed four times louder than him.

"You are too… cold-hearted for me," he finally said from the other end of the line.

Y/N stifled an exclamation. Cold-hearted? How could she be if she was an actress? She was the warmest person he had known.

"You're always focused on your job and yourself, I need someone…"

"Idiot!" Y/N interrupted him. "Just say you don’t have enough self-love to date an independent woman. You worthless piece of shit."

She hung up after her sentence, not wanting to hear her ex-boyfriend's response. She parked the car and ran her hands over her face. She looked at herself in the little mirror of her car, touching up her lipstick and reassuring herself that she was a good person worthy of love.

She got out of her car and went directly to the bookstore in front of her. She still had quite a few books in her apartment to read, but she didn’t mind. It was her third breakup in four months, and she was starting to wonder if she really was the problem, and the only thing that could distract her from that was spending money she didn't have.

She began to pile books on her arms, and by the fifth manuscript, she started to wobble.

"Do you need help?"

Y/N blinked and peeked her head out from the stack of books, meeting a blonde with a very un-London-like accent and skinny jeans who looked like anything but someone who worked in a bookstore. She didn't know that strangers were now offering help out there.

"No, thanks," She took a step and added a sixth book, enough for all of them to fall. "Shit!"

Y/N felt so embarrassed she even blushed. She knew everyone in the bookstore would be watching her, and that terrified her.

"May I help you now?"

Y/N looked up, having completely forgotten about the presence of the stranger, who was looking at her with a kind smile.

"If you insist…" She smiled a little while rolling her eyes, which made him smile too.

They picked up the books together, which were a bunch of rom-coms. For a moment she thought he would judge her choices, but he didn’t make any gesture.

"I'm Max, by the way"

Y/N blinked. She had no idea what was happening, it seemed totally unreal that a stranger would help her pick up her books and suddenly introduce himself.

"Do you like Sally Rooney?" he asked, holding the last book she'd picked.

Y/N realized that this guy wanted to keep a trivial conversation with her, like those you have in nightclub bathrooms with girls. But this time was a bookstore, not a library. And not a girl, but a Max.

"I’ve never read her, but I saw Normal People, the series, and I was left wanting more," she explained, with a shy smile. "Y/N, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," he showed her a gorgeous smile. "I read the book, I haven’t had time to watch the series yet."

"Oh, it's really good,"

The conversation flowed too easily. She wasn’t used to talking so normally with someone she had just met a few minutes ago and moreover without it being awkward, but that was how it was. Y/N told him about the books she planned to buy and the one she was reading now.

"Excuse me, we're going to close," an employee informed them. In London, shops always closed in the mid-afternoon, for lunch, and although Y/N had arrived around eleven-thirty, the clock was almost striking one. "Are you taking the books?"

"Sure, yes," said Y/N at once and turned to Max. "Hold on a sec."

Max waved his hand, telling her not to worry, that he would wait. She paid for the books and quickly returned to Max.

"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" Max asked directly. Y/N loved the confidence in his voice.

"No, I don’t,"

"Can I invite you to lunch?"

"I'd love that,"

Y/N went to leave the bag of books in her car and she and Max walked to a nearby restaurant, continuing their conversation. It still seemed extremely surreal to her, in what universe does she break up with her boyfriend and moments later meet the nicest guy she had ever known?

"What do you do?" Max asked, once they were seated in the restaurant.

"I'm an actress," she pursed her lips. She was still in the phase where it was hard for her to admit she worked in that field.

"I'm not much into movies," Max commented, scrunching his nose.

"Great because I do theater,"

"Really?" he leaned back in his chair, impressed. "I don’t frequent the theater either, to be honest."

They both laughed softly and Y/N sipped her drink. "And you?"

"I work with cars,"

Y/N furrowed her brow, waiting for him to specify a bit more. "In a repair shop or how?"

That caused a small laugh from Max, leaving Y/N even more confused.

"Yes, exactly. In a repair shop," he continued with a wide smile.

"Well, if you like cars, there's some Prix thing here this weekend. There are tourists everywhere, it's terrible," she complained, rolling her eyes a bit.

Max gave her a goofy smile. That was perfect. Simply perfect.

"Really?" he arched his eyebrows slightly. "I had no idea."

"They do it every year. A silly thing," Y/N shrugged, letting the topic pass.

They continued talking for a long time about how Y/N once almost knocked down the shelves in a bookstore.

"Just like in the movies!" Max said, laughing.

She nodded, also laughing. "I swear things like a character in a tragicomedy happen to me."

They continued laughing for a while, then Max squinted a bit, resting his head on the palms of his hands. "And don’t you think it’s very movie-like that someone picks up your books for you?"

Y/N looked around, with sudden terror. "Where are the cameras, Max?"

He threw his head back laughing with a soft scrunch in his nose. The sound of his laugh felt really warm for Y/N.

"I hope nowhere," Max was right. Too good to be true. Too good to happen to her. Her look darkened a bit, and Max noticed it quickly. "Something wrong?"

She looked up and shook her head a little. "It's just… Is this weird?"

"I don’t think so, unless you want to make it weird. I’m pretty good at that,"

Max got a small smile from her.

"It's just that I’m used to…” Y/N thought about that sentence. “To things like this not happening to me. I haven’t been doing too well in love this past year,"

"Oh, me neither," Max didn’t mention the part about being a famous person and everyone wanting to be with him out of pure interest and not because they really liked him. "It's complicated."

"Quite," she pursed her lips. "Anyway… I have a performance at a theater in Soho on Thursday, you could come by. If you want, of course."

Max bit his lip; he had his first free practice that day and likely several meetings and driver duties.

"Oh, I'd love to. What time?"

They exchanged phones after the meal, which dragged on quite a bit, so that Y/N could send Max the location of the theater. And to exchange several messages throughout the day. They didn't see each other again until the day of the performance, but in that time, they had written dozens of messages. Y/N would tell Max about the series or movie she had watched that afternoon and recommended that he watch it, even though it was more than likely that Max hadn't turned on a TV in months.

Thursday arrived, and Max managed to sneak away from a meeting, arriving just in time for the play.

Y/N was nervous, and her co-star wasn't helping.

"Y/N!" Her co-star approached practically running. "I just heard that a famous driver is watching the play."

"Really?" She didn't care too much. She had been without news from Max for hours.

Luckily, he appeared at the door with a kind smile and a bouquet of roses. "Hi,"

Y/N flashed a smile and went up to him, instinctively wanting to hug him. Max, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, left a short kiss on her lips. She instantly blushed.

"Hello," Y/N greeted, with a silly smile. "Gorgeous flowers."

Max looked at her co-star, who was completely astonished.

"Lily, are you okay?" questioned Y/N, still hugging Max.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating a famous driver?"

Y/N turned to Max instantly.

"What do you mean, 'famous driver'?"

Max pursed his lips slightly. "Aren't you going to call her out on the 'dating' thing?"

Y/N paused for a moment, trying not to laugh at what Max had said.

"Y/N, this is Max Verstappen. The Formula 1 driver!"

She lifted her chin and looked at Max again. "Formula 1 driver?"

Max scratched his neck.

"I think so…"

Y/N paused again for a moment. "And you let me mock your career just like that?"

"It's because you're strangely nice, what can I do," Max shrugged, causing Y/N to laugh.

"Well, I'm not one to deny it," she smiled a bit, then kissed Max's lips a second time. She placed a finger on his chest. "Though we're not dating, huh. We need to have a second date before we throw it all in for each other,"

Max burst out laughing. "Like they do in the movies?"

"Absolutely."

taglist; @theseerbetweenus

[sparklingblu]

Limerence (ft. ILLIT Minju)

I don't even know what to call this. Somewhat of a fluff but not really a fluff either. Something that just pops into my mind.

"So he asked 'Is it better to speak or die?' "

"That's the stupidest story I have ever heard"

Minju leaves no chance for you to savour that feeling that comes after quoting something particularly clever. Or she's just being a jerk as usual.

"You are just anti-romantic"

You protest though you know she will have thought of a retort before you finish.

"There's nothing romantic about this story"

"It's a love story for christ's sake"

"Where's the 'love' ?"

You slump back in your chair, defeated. Either she's too dumb to understand your point or you are just bad at telling stories. The latter's probably more likely.

The story's not an ordinary one in the first place. It involves a knight and a princess but it ends neither with a 'happily ever after' nor a bloodbath where they both rip their hearts out. There isn't even an ending.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

The last sentence on this paper of the dusty hard covered book which has turned yellow from the years it have endured. It's a mircale how it's still intact.

You mummur the question under your breath, trying to make sense of the words. But they are still nothing more than a jumbled mess in your mind.

The funny thing is, this is not your first time reading this story. You are actually too familiar with it. The setting, the characters, the way it almost seems to tell the secret you have carefully hidden; it doesn't make sense that you are still confused what this single question everything has lead up to mean. Still, you are here, no wiser than the first time you have read this tale.

In some time immemorial in an unknown kingdom lived a princess and a knight, each a good friend to another. Perhaps because of this closeness, the knight started to feel something more than companionship to the princess. Feelings that shouldn't exist given their scoial status. The princess knew it too though she ptetends to be oblivious. Nonetheless, the knight found himself unable to express his desires - torn between the fear of losing what he currently has and the turmoil of hiding himself. So one day, when he took his usual walk with the princess through the garden, he mustered up the courage to ask one single question.

"Is it better to speak or die?"

The End.

Anyone can guess at this point that the knight meant if it's better to put his feelings into words and sacrifice their friendship or die knowing that he will never have what he wants. You wish it's that simple.

You and Minju have been stuck in the same page for an hour now, still having no idea how to progress your assignment. The task was a paper on an in depth analysis on a tale of your choice. Now you regret not choosing 'The Tortoise & The Hare".

"Why do you choose this one anyway? There are like a million other better choices"

Minju says, gesturing at the endless shelves of books that surround you on all sides. Not millions but perhaps a thousand other choices you could have made in this rectangular bank of knowledge; the local library.

Somewhere distinct, you hear a bell chimes, signaling the arrival to the later hour of the night. You glance at your watch. It's already 9 pm. A cough reasonates from the counter near the entrance, emitted by none other than the librarian. The ghastly old woman seems to be signalling that we don't have much time left.

I don't have much time left.

Minju's translucent pupils are fixed on you, still waiting for your answer. You break out of the haze.

"Because it's.."

'Relatable'. The word is 'Relatable'. But she doesn't need to know that. Never.

"Interesting I guess"

You finish, not quite daring to meet her eyes. She might see the guilt of your dishonest words in them.

"Seriously? This is interesting? Next time you think something is interesting, feel free to ask my opinion"

"Not everyone have great taste"

You mean it to be a playful jab but her face distorts to something along the line of fury and hurt. And her lips part.

No. Please don't be mad.

Please.

"Jerk"

Her words put out the flames of fear threatening to rise in your chest. There. All good. She's not mad.

You let out a sigh of relief but quickly mask it as a half formed scoff. She can't know. So you waver her attention.

"Tell me then. What's your opinion on this story apart from it being hopelessly stupid"

Her lips stretch to a soft smile. You have put her back into her comfort zone.

"It's not about love like you think. It's about cowardice"

"Enlighten me"

She crosses her arms, the pose she always takes before her rosy lips spill out a waterfall of the most beautiful syllables. It also makes her look superior. The table, which is the only thing between you two seems like a brick wall now.

"The knight doesn't say 'I love you' or anything of that sort, does he? He's scared out of his wits so he decided to go for a safer alternative. That question. It literally says 'I'm a coward who can't even properly confess' "

Is she mocking you?

Probably not. She doesn't know. She will never know.

Still....

'Is it better to spek or die?'

A coward's attempt at love; complicated and imperfect. At least he has the courage to mutter those cowardly words.

"You are not wrong but can't it be that he's just scared of losing her?"

Yes. You are referring to yourself.

But she won't know.

"He already loses her after saying these words"

"You don't know that. You don't know what the pericess's answer was. She could have accepted him"

"You don't know that either"

Now she's fighting you with your own words.

"What would you have answered if you were the princess then?"

Is that an indirect confession? An attempt to ask her opinion without facing the shame that comes after rejection? You hope not.

"I don't know...I would probably ask him to speak in English"

"Not funny at all"

Your answer makes her raise her brows in disbelief as if saying - "I know I will never not be funny to you. You are too obsessed with me not to."

But that's impossible. She doesn't know.

Has she spoken these words aloud, you would happily agree with her. But that's just momentary courage. Your tongue would be tied to knots in a hearbeat if that ever happens.

That begs the question again.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

"Whatever" she says in exasperation. "I'm not lovey dovey enough for this"

"Seriously. Just tell me what you would have said"

There. You are pushing again, desperate for that answer even if it's not directed at you. You would cling to a tiny hope if it's ever a positive one.

"I don't know. Probably tell him to speak because I don't want anyone going suicidal mode because of me"

"He will still go suicidal if you reject him after he confess"

"Why are you asking me those? Were you in such a situation before?"

You surpress a chuckle that nearly slips your tongue.

What a fool you are Minju. You can't even spot the truth that's hidden in plain sight. The truth that has gone rusty and rotten because it has been locked up for so long. Still, it's not her fault.

You have hidden it so well.

She doesn't need to know.

"Yes"

You can't believe you say the word. It's as if someone has possessed you and put those words on your tongue.

"Poor you"

And just like that, it ends.

You have expected her to push you, given her curious nature. You want her to lend you the courage to say those words you have mummur countless times in your dreams. But she just leaves you hanging there like that. Cruel.

Can't blame her though.

She doesn't know.

Another cough pierces through the invisible viel that has seperated you two from the world outside.

9:25 pm.

5 minutes away until this tedious session of back and forth ends.

Why is it that you don't want it to end?

The papers in front of you are bare as they were an hour ago. The book still turned at the same page. The question that haunts you still lies there, imprinted in black.

'Is it better to speak or die?'

Neither. Because that's a stupid question just like Minju said. It's constructed to mess with your mind. You gotta stop dwelling on it.

"Anyway-"

Chimes

That sound. It can only mean one thing.

Minju pulls her phone out of her pocket, the glow of it illuminating her angelic feature as she turns it on. Not a moment sooner, her lips hold the prettiest of smiles.

And in all the wrong ways.

"Gotta go"

Her dismissal cuts through the tense air as she hurriedly put the papers back into her bag. Is she that desperate to get away from you?

"My boyfriend's waiting for me. We have a date tonight"

You are not angry. It would be wrong. Though it's only natural to envy the one who's living your fantasy. But the faults are not in our stars.

"Alright. Goodnight"

Minju's footsteps echo on the mahogany floor as she finally escapes the torturous session you have put her though, flying away to an embrace better than yours in every way.

But it's ok.

Because she doesn't know.

She gives a quick wave to the old librarian who does nothing to reciprocate the action. That hag doesn't know how lucky she is.

"Minju"

You call before the rest of her form disppears through these creaking doors. She turns on her heels, a stray strand of hair clinging like an unifinished piece of art to her forehead. The shadows cast by the moonlight does nothing to hide her.

"Yes?"

You breath.

And utter.

"Is it better to speak or die?"

___________________________________________

Took the famous question from the movie "Call me by your name". Though I alter the story. Thanks for reading this madness.

[harmonicakai]

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader

Summary: You find yourself falling for the cute boy whose writing assignments you proofread, and discover that your lives have been intertwined for longer than you thought.

Tropes: tutor!reader, basketball player!gyuvin, writers, soulmates, college AU, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: literally none it’s so cute

A/N: This is a formal apology for my Beomgyu angst <3

“And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?” —Invisible String, Taylor Swift

Gyuvin certainly doesn’t need any help with English, but it gives him a good excuse to spend time in between classes and basketball practice staring at you.

If anything, your talents would be better suited to helping one of his classmates understand all the old poems or crazy novels that they get assigned, but he’s the one who lucked out when your former professor suggested you read her most promising student’s work.

From the first draft, you were hooked, and had somehow started a writer’s circle where just the two of you meet weekly to share your works in progress. 

In no time, you’ve helped Gyuvin become one of the top students in Writing 101, and he’s worried you’ll notice that he’d be just fine if you stopped helping him. Still, the A’s keep rolling in and you keep meeting up with him anyway.

When Gyuvin’s latest short story gets nominated for a departmental prize, you’re over the moon for him.

“You are so amazing,” you smile up at him. “We should celebrate! That’s a really big deal. I was nominated last year, but didn’t come close to winning.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he points out, looking down at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. “Really, Y/N. If I win, it would be just as much your prize as it would be mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, packing up the rest of your lunch. You usually only see him in the library at your designated meeting time, but today, he sought you out in the courtyard to make sure you were the first person he told. “I’m just the editor. All of the ideas came from you. Plus, I’m only good at English because I grew up speaking it. It’s much more impressive for you to have learned it recently and write at the level that you do.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/N,” he replies, helping you up off your picnic blanket. Before you can do it yourself, he’s already reaching down to fold it, his long arms handling the fabric with ease. “You’d write circles around me any day.”

“I don’t want to get into another compliment war,” you giggle, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. Recently, it’s been filled with way too many books, and your classes are so jam-packed that you never have time to run back to your room in between them.

“Here, Y/N, let me,” he says, taking your backpack from you. He’s already got his own on, but he wears yours over his front, barely even flinching at the extra weight. “Where are you headed next? I’m done with my classes for the day, so I can walk you.”

He’s always been desperate to ask you to hang out outside of your brainstorming sessions, but every time he thinks he’s worked up the courage, you’ll laugh or smile or even just glance at him and his brain short circuits.

“I have a music class across campus in thirty minutes,” you reply. “Don’t you live the other way, though? You really don’t have to walk me. It’s pretty far.”

“I want to,” Gyuvin reassures you. He offers his hand. “Here. I walk pretty fast, so let’s make sure I don’t leave you behind.”

You hesitate for a moment before taking it. You’ve had a crush on Gyuvin ever since the two of you first crossed paths—he’s the literal embodiment of sunshine trapped inside a cute boy—but things have only ever been friendly between the two of you.

His hand is big, wrapping itself around yours almost entirely. The walk is silent, although you swear you can hear your heart about to beat out of your chest as you pull him along your usual route. Gyuvin makes sure to always let you lead.

“You know,” you start, still not looking back at him. “We’re kind of like Orpheus and Eurydice right now.”

Gyuvin lights up at the reference, with mythology being one of the first things you two really bonded over. “If you looked back at me, the only thing I’d probably die of is how cute you are, Y/N.”

You’re glad you’re turned away so he can’t see the bright blush that’s spread across your cheeks. His words get you so flustered that you don’t even notice you’ve stopped walking.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gyuvin asks, his voice laced with concern. He moves to face you, your height difference causing him to crane his neck down. Meanwhile, your gaze is locked on your shoes.

“Gyuvin,” you say, still refusing to meet his eye. You pull him over to a nearby bench. “Remember when I said I liked the love story you wrote the other day?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he confirms. “You complimented me on how realistic it was and I told you it was only because I based it off of real life.”

“Was it…” your words catch in your throat, unable to face the embarrassment of if you’re wrong. “Was it about us?”

“Yes,” he admits almost immediately. You finally turn to face him, greeted by a nervous look. “Listen, Y/N. I only wrote it because I knew you’d read it, and I thought maybe if you saw how good characters that were a lot like us could be together, you’d give me a chance in real life. But you didn’t really notice, or maybe you just wanted to ignore it, so I kind of abandoned all hope of us ever being together.”

You blink back at him. How could you be so oblivious? Your entire major was based on analyzing words, and you couldn’t even see that he wanted to be with you so badly that he had to write it into existence.

Words always come easy to you, except at this very moment.

“You abandoned all hope?” is all you can manage to get out. You try to pull your hand away, but he only grips it tighter.

“I tried,” Gyuvin says, his voice soft. “But you’re all I ever think about. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be capable of writing someone who even comes close to how wonderful I think you are, Y/N. There just aren’t words to describe all the ways in which you’re special to me.”

You laugh, his words making tears well up in your eyes. “You know, I used to go to basketball games a lot before we even met, just so I wouldn’t have to feel so lonely all the time. And I remember liking your smile and the way you always encouraged your teammates. I would go home and wish I had someone like you in my life.”

“You’re kidding,” he says, taking out his wallet. You knit your brows in confusion, watching as he pulls out a small piece of paper and unfolds it. “Here.”

He hands it to you and your eyes widen at the words printed out. It’s the poem that you had published in the school’s literary magazine last spring about wanting to romanticize your life. Talking about your feelings makes you anxious, but nobody reads those publications. Except for Gyuvin, apparently.

“I liked you before we even met, too,” Gyuvin confesses. “Your poem is actually the reason I got into writing in the first place. I used to read it before all of my games, but I know all the words by heart now, so I just keep it in my wallet for good luck.”

This all feels too good to be true, but his touch keeps you grounded in reality.

“Maybe I should start coming to basketball games again, then,” you think out loud. “I stopped going because I felt awkward not knowing anybody.”

“Well, now you’d know me, and I’ll make sure the whole team gets to know you, too, okay?” The way he smiles at you, his eyes so full of light, takes your breath away.

“Really?” you ask, looking at him in disbelief. The thought of meeting so many new people at the same time scares you, but if Gyuvin likes them, you’re sure you will too.

“On one condition,” he says, closing the gap between the two of you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand settling on your cheek. “I get to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Deal,” you grin, inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. You’re nervous that he’ll somehow figure out that you’ve only ever read about kissing in books, but the way he melts into you tells you that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re going to be late for class,” Gyuvin reminds you, pulling away. He desperately wants to keep going, but not at the expense of your grades.

“Class can wait,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. Your fingers lace themselves through his soft, messy hair. “I said we’d celebrate your nomination, so let’s celebrate.”

[aklaustaleteller]

On One Condition

Klaus feels bad for messing up Y/n's exam preparation schedule, so he asks her what it is that he can do to 'earn her forgiveness'. Yet somehow, he manages to put up a condition when she asks him to help her with an art project...

Warnings - none, really. Word Count - 1.4k

So, I was rewriting an old fic when I decided to write a little backstory, i.e. this fic, and I hope you guys like it! I'll be posting part two within the next two days so yay!

Update: You can now read part two here!

She was something else, a feisty one who liked a good chase. And Klaus should've noted that from miles away. But he was too deep in now, and he wasn't going to back down until he had her.

He was waiting outside the school to catch Stefan, have a chat with him and warn him against trying to harm him because telling him off meant telling off the entire group, and Klaus found that lovely.

And he had just caught sight of Stefan when he saw her behind him, her hair bun not so tight as hair stands fell out and framed her face. She was walking with another girl who seemed to be trying profusely to convince Y/n of something -- probably a party if Klaus were to guess but he felt himself tuning in when she walked in a closer range to him.

"I really cannot do it, Vicki. Please try to understand that I'm myself giving exams right now," he heard her say, and then saw as she put her hand on her shoulders. There was softness in her voice that he'd never wished previously to be directed at him.

Bringing her in for a hug, Y/n explained herself again, as if she felt bad for denying whatever it was that Vicky wanted. "I would've helped you out had I not missed out on my preparation earlier. I’ve quite literally been studying the night before for each exam." She smiled, with what emotion Klaus couldn't quite see, but he found it beautiful, nonetheless.

"Why don't you ask Elena? I'm sure that way you'll bump into Jeremy a couple times as well," Y/n grinned, passing the squinting brunette a quick wink before turning back towards the exit with a sigh of relief.

Though it only took a couple steps for her to bump into Klaus, not so accidently. She'd seen him the moment she'd gotten out of the gates, and the fact that she had to pass him in order to reach her car only made her feel... more positive, let’s say.

She hadn't gone out of her way to slam into him, but he had. And the only other thing she has to blame is her spiteful walk that led the one library book she'd borrowed to topple out of her grip.

"Klaus, back off," she gritted, quickly picking up her book and moving once he did.

"It's not my fault, you know, that you bumped into me," Klaus said with a lure in his voice that suggested he just wanted to rile her up. "I'd apologize to me," he shrugged, a lopsided grin pulling up on his face when he noticed her turning.

"I'd tell you to go fuck yourself but that'd be a cruel and unusual punishment," she bit back, pressing her key to unlock the car.

"Please, save your breath. You'd probably need it to blow up your next date," Klaus teased, remembering the night Klaus had crashed her date and scared off the guy by doing nothing, really.

Sighing, Y/n gripped the steering wheel of her car and closed her eyes for a second. "Say something else and this book will become a lethal weapon," her voice was agitated as she warned him, and when he truly backed away with a proud grin on his face, she finally pulled back and drove home, daring to spare him a glance in her rear-view mirrors, an angry blush creeping up her neck when she caught his eyes.

Once she reached home, she didn't bother to lay out her clothes before jumping into her shower. Still, she buttoned up a loose striped cotton shirt and pulled her underwear up her legs. It didn't take her long to just decide on a pair of pyjama shorts.

After a good bowl of salad for lunch, she brought out her schoolwork to just do it on the porch considering the nice weather. But of course, that was a mistake because soon into her immersive study session, she was disturbed by loud clashing noises coming from the house across hers, Elena's house.

Taking a deep breath, she was just getting up when she caught sight of Damon and Stefan inside the house, speeding towards each other. It was purely for the dramatics, she was sure, considering the fact they wouldn't kill each other, they simply didn't have it in them.

She just felt sorry for Elena's dishes, maybe some of her furniture as well.

Twisting the knob she had just pushed the door in to go back inside the house when she heard a voice behind her. "Too noisy, aren't they?"

Klaus.

"You already messed up my preparation schedule once, Klaus. Do not dare to do it again," she said calmly, though her grip on the knob was probably tighter than normal.

With that, she decided to cross the line and enter her home. Then she turned around to face him, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to mess with her either.

"I came here to apologise, and perhaps, make up for the troubles I've caused you," he admitted, looking at her with such sincere eyes that she could've given in right then.

"And how do you plan on doing that? Plus, if this is a joke, I still have that book with me."

"You tell me what it is that will earn me your forgiveness," he said dramatically, making her look down to hide something from him, maybe a smile.

Opening the door wider, she looked at him and then hesitated a little. "Don't make me regret this," she said. "Come in, please."

Klaus was caught a bit off guard but managed to get inside, his eyes wandering right away to take in her house.

"I'm not sure how to word this really, so I'm just going to say it." Taking a breath, she sat on one of the dining table chairs and urged for him to do so too, getting a little flustered when he took the one right by her side and shifted so that he was turned towards her.

"What is it, love?"

"This might be a little ridiculous for you but it's very serious for me," she told him while maintaining eye contact to make sure he understood the situation.

Klaus simply nodded for her to go on, now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"I know you paint, quite impressively, might I add but that's not the point here," she quickly shut the topic before Klaus could tease her.

"The point is, I have this art project that I said yes to under pressure because my favourite teacher asked me to. But were you to see even my handwriting, you'd know I'm no good at it. The most I can draw is a stick figure and even that's wonky sometimes," she admitted bashfully.

"I used to have a friend who'd do it for me, but she left town last year and now... I don't really have anyone who would," she let out a breath at that, her eyes closed in anticipation of his answer.

"So, you wish for me to help you out with this said art project?"

Sitting stiffly, she nodded.

"Okay then. I'll do it... but what is it?"

"Oh great!" She cheered; happiness evident on her face. "It's supposed to be this super zoomed in image of either a grapefruit, or a pomegranate."

Klaus leaned back in his chair then, sighing as he considered it. "I will do it on one condition," he proposed.

"And that is?"

"You will stay with me in my studio when I'm painting it," he shrugged, as if it wasn't so much a big deal.

"But were you not doing this for my forgiveness?" She narrowed her eyes, but when he began to get off the chair, she struggled for some answer to come out of her mouth before he could leave.

"Okay, okay! I will!" She agreed immediately, sitting back down in defeat when he remained standing, a smile on his face.

"I'll go now." He said, walking backwards towards the door and he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. He could've teased her about it but decided against it.

"Come by my house tomorrow, around three or four… your wish," he said before turning to open the door.

He turned back to see her reaction and a smile crept up on his mouth when he saw her smiling back at him.

"I will," she told him while waving him goodbye, stopping just before he sped off with his dead heart beating a mile an hour. 

[ink-through-her-veins]

As with all momentous things, it began slowly. A sleep tunic and a change of clothes, became a drawer of Merlin’s clothes in Arthur’s wardrobe. Then a book on one of the nightstands turned into the entire thing becoming Merlin’s tiny library because he needed choices when it came to bedtime reading. And half of Arthur’s wardrobe was crammed with Merlin’s clothes, and the quilt his mother made laid over the foot of the bed that Arthur called their’s, and there was enough dust in the room that used to be Merlin’s for it to be considered well and truly abandoned.

Until…

“I cannot fucking believe you!” Merlin shouted, slamming open the door, and striding through it without a care in the world if said door ricocheted back to hit Arthur in the face.

Which it would have if Arthur weren’t trained since birth to have cat-like reflexes. He caught the door, glared at it, and seethed. He flopped down in chair, pinched the bridge of his nose, and waited for Merlin to calm himself.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Arthur closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. He had plenty to say, none of which would make Merlin any less upset. So he sat in silence until he couldn’t bear the curiosity of what Merlin was doing to make so much noise. He turned, and his heart stopped. In Merlin’s hand was his rucksack that usually hung on a hook beside the wardrobe, and was now full of Merlin’s clothes, and books, and—he’d even packed the fucking quilt.

“No.” Arthur stood, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No.”

“What?”

“You. This. Whatever idiocy you’re thinking, no.”

“I’m going to my room, Arthur, where I can be away from whatever idiocy you’re thinking.”

“This is your room,” Arthur said slowly, and deliberately so the words could sink in through Merlin’s thick skull. “Do you not think it strange that you have to pack to go to your room? That all your things are here, and you haven’t slept in that tiny closet for months? You don’t just move out because you’re upset with me. You call me an idiot, and turn your head when I try to kiss you, and if I’ve really pissed you off—“

“You have,” Merlin interjected.

“Then you throw my pillow onto a chair and make me sleep in it!” Arthur shouted, and then bit his lip, trying to hold back the sudden rush of tears. Maybe Merlin was more than upset. Maybe…fuck. He sniffled, and softly added, “But you don’t walk out unless you stop loving me.”

Merlin’s rucksack dropped to the floor. “I didn’t—Of course, I love you. I didn’t realize. I just thought…”

“What? That I let all my servants claim my space, and half my bed?”

“Well I hadn’t thought we’d officially moved in together,” Merlin admitted sheepishly.

“We have. Months ago. You live here. I’m a prat. You’re all caught up now.”

And if Merlin wanted to linger in the argument before, he didn’t anymore. He didn’t even really want an apology for Arthur’s pigheadedness, but he got one kissed into his neck, and his lips, and his hair.

(Arthur’s the idiot in modern times here)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Horror movie date night with Lisa, Hu Tao, Arlecchino, and Furina?

(Genshin Impact) Horror Movie Date with Lisa, Hu Tao, Arlecchino, and Furina

Lisa doesn't particularly mind horror, but she does not enjoy any sight or mention of pumpkins.

So when the movie she's watching has one, she grabs onto S/O with a force they have never felt before.

But other than that, she quite enjoys these movies! Reading horror books in the Favonius library was one thing, but experiencing it in real time like a theatre act was unforgettable!

Especially if it meant she had an excuse to cuddle close to S/O, not that she really needed one to begin with.

(Lisa) "If you feel scared S/O, you could move in a bit closer. I promise to make sure you feel safe.~"

Pumpkin.

(Lisa) "GUH!- Ugh...D-Don't say a word about that sound, S/O..."

Hu Tao is completely unaffected by the "horror" movie S/O brought in.

But if anything, she's gotten a lot of new inspiration!

(Hu Tao) "Wow, they made the killer look terrifying in that scene! Maybe I should take a few notes from this, thanks for the ideas!"

Sometimes during the film, she likes to jumpscare S/O herself, mostly because she can't help herself.

It wasn't her fault that S/O's reactions were cute!

And of course, she'd be applying her jumpscares outside their date night too!

On the rare occasions Arlecchino has nothing to do, she joins S/O in passing the time.

Horror movies especially intrigued her.

The ones that showed how people would react in certain situations are the films that she enjoys the most.

Her expression remains unchanged the entire duration, to no one's surprise.

(Arlecchino) "An interesting scenario, being forced to survive in a house full of demons, and trusting one another."

The only thing she does is make sure none of the children watch it with her, to their disappointment.

She doesn't want them to have nightmares, and forces them to bed as to not get scared.

...Her S/O? Well, they were an adult, surely they can handle that themselves. There's no need for her to coddle them.

A horror movie? Child's play, she has seen much worse in plays!

And also the horror movie that is her life.

Furina smirks as she crosses her arms.

(Furina) "Oh please, I cannot get scared from a fictional story!"

She in fact, did get scared from a fictional story.

Her bag of macarons remain untouched, as both her arms are gripping onto S/O for dear life, eyes wide open and too afraid to blink.

For every jumpscare, that is another rib that is dislodged from her arms as they hold them tighter.

Which, her expression was really cute, but was it worth the medical checkup the next day?

...A little, yeah.

[superhaught]

Sweetest Girl (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warning(s): continuation of angst, insight into reader's home life (absent parents, poverty), emotional damage

Word Count: 1600, Part 4/?

Summary: Reader and Regina try to cope in the aftermath of their confusing and sudden separation. Regina keeps up appearances, Reader doesn't feel like herself.

@sapphicantics saw it first <3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The rest of the day passed with no word from Regina. 

After Regina let you out of her car, you walked a few minutes down a dirt road to to the trailer park you called home. Your mom was predictably passed out in front of the TV that sat on the table in the middle of the Jayco trailer. Dad wasn’t around. Also predictable. 

You grabbed a few things you needed and checked the refrigerator for something to eat just in case but there was only a half empty case of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The rest of your day was spent walking to the 24 hour gym to grab a shower. To McDonald’s for a meal. Then to the library to finish your own homework. 

Weekends were the hardest. Two fewer meals a day when you weren’t at school. Too much time to kill. Sundays were the worst of it because the library closed at 5 instead of 9.

You were trying to do your history readings but your thoughts kept frustratingly drifting to Regina. You thought about how if she knew the full truth, she’d be pissed at you for not saying anything, and then she’d feel guilty for making you leave, and then she’d be pissed all over again. 

You wanted to hit yourself. You’d only really known Regina for a week and already you were thinking about her like she was your best friend in the world. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. 

At 4:50 pm, someone lightly tapped your shoulder, waking you up from an accidental nap hunched over your books.

“Gotta pack up sweetie, I’m sorry,” the librarian gave you a pitying smile. 

You blinked and nodded, “sorry for falling asleep.”

“Don’t worry. Have you eaten today?”

You nodded again.

“Alright, well grab something from the pantry on your way out anyways.”

“Thanks.”

You had gotten into the habit of getting your breakfast from the cafeteria and then sitting out in the front courtyard to read and people watch as your classmates arrived for school. You didn’t realize that you were able to recognize the sound of Regina’s car specifically until you were looking up from your book and watching it pull into her spot in the lot. 

The blonde opened her door and threw her hair over her shoulder. She wore sunglasses, making her expression unreadable as she strode across the pavement. 

You clocked Gretchen and Karen’s approach just a second before it seemed Regina did and you watched her take a deep breath in before they pounced on her and started yapping her ears off. 

None of that came as a shock to you. You figured she would uphold her usual even if was still as upset as you were. What happened next was what rendered you paralyzed. 

As the girls made their way toward the school building, some guy intercepted them and slid in between Regina and Karen. He did that stupid thing where he ran his hand through his hair and then stretched his arm out as if he was yawning just so he could drape it around Regina’s shoulders. 

She didn’t react. 

He then leaned in to apparently kiss Regina. At that, she did turn her head so that he could only plant one on her cheek, but still. 

You were aware that you were staring, mouth fully agape, eyes wide, as the group of four walked past you. You didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the fact that Regina glanced back at you over the shoulder that the dude was possessively gripping. You couldn’t see her eyes past the dark lenses she was wearing and all you could think about for the rest of the day was how much you wished you could have seen her expression. 

During the chem quiz, you kept glancing across the room at her. Trying to check in, catch her eye, anything. She never looked up from her paper. Not once. 

When time was up, you turned your quiz in feeling fairly confident that you performed terribly on it. You watched Regina get up from her desk and check over her answers again before she looked up and met your eyes. 

If it hadn’t been for your teacher telling everyone to find their seats again, you might have stood there and held eye contact with Regina forever. 

She gave you a pained smile and then cleared her throat before walking up the aisle between the rows of desks and handing her quiz in. 

You sat back down at your desk and watched her the entire time it took for her to return to her desk and sit. She didn’t look at you again, but she moved her hands to her lap and picked at her cuticles for the rest of class. 

When you were all dismissed, you tried to catch her on your way out, going as far as to call out to her but the woman knew how to move with purpose and she was well ahead of you. 

At the same time, your teacher called your name, “stay a second, will you?”

You sighed and turned around.

Your teacher was holding yours and Regina’s quizzes in each hand and glancing them over, “well, by the looks of this, she has improved remarkably. However, your quiz…”

You winced, “I know.”

“If I didn’t know your handwriting I would have to assume that you swapped papers with her or something. This isn’t you.”

You nodded, “I just had a really bad day. I don’t think I’ll screw up this bad again.”

“Well, your grade is going to be fine but, are you okay? She’s not giving you trouble is she?”

You glanced at the classroom door that Regina left through then shook your head and faked a smile, “no, no. Not at all. She’s… she’s been great to tutor.”

“Okay, well, if you need anything, you’ll let me know?”

You nodded, slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out the door. 

You knew when you agreed to tutor Regina that there’d be a chance she might get under your skin. She is Regina George, after all. You just never expected that the getting under your skin would be because you were falling for the girl and unable to do a single thing about it. 

As it turned out, though, Regina wasn’t done getting under your skin for the day. 

The blonde was leaning against your locker when you approached it. She was examining her nails but then she looked up at you and dropped her hands to her side. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. 

You stared at her expectantly, “well?”

“Um, could you come with me, please?”

“Why?”

“To talk.”

“Talk to me here.”

“I… I can’t.”

“No? Do you need your boyfriend or something?”

Regina clenched her jaw. 

You felt a pang in your chest. The words this isn’t you echoed in your mind. 

She frowned and looked down at her hands. 

You sighed, “where did you want to talk?”

She met your eyes again, “bathroom?”

You nodded and followed her down the hall. Once inside the restroom, she checked the other stalls for any stragglers that hadn’t gone to lunch yet. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and waited for her to talk. 

She faced you from a respectful distance, “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry again.”

“What are you sorry for, exactly?”

“For… well, all of it.”

“What was the plan? Were you going to lead me on, maybe start a secret situationship, keep me wrapped around your finger while you kept up appearances at school? But then you flipped out, and now you’re sorry that you did it, or are you sorry that it didn’t go the way you wanted? Did you think that maybe if you apologized you could try again?” 

Regina’s eyes went wide and she shook her head, “n-no! That… that’s not… I didn’t…” she stepped closer to you and you stepped back.

“No, actually, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Because you tried to warn me, didn’t you? You said that I should stop being so nice so that I wouldn’t get taken advantage of, right? So I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you.” As you continued, you started crying, and so did she. 

“When did it start with the guy? Before? Or last night? Does he make you happy, Regina? Actually, nevermind, it’s none of my business. It’s not like we’re in a relationship, right?”

Regina sobbed, “please, please just… please listen… I didn’t set out to hurt you… I… I got scared…”

You wiped your face of the tears you’d shed, “I’m sorry, Regina… I don’t actually want to be mean…” 

She stepped closer to you again, “I… I don't want to lose you as a friend because of this.”

You shook your head, “fuck, I don’t know Regina… I think it’d be best if we just… left each other alone…”

“No, wait… I don’t want that.”

“I’ll still tutor you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That isn’t what I’m worried about!”

You took a step forward and closed the space between you and Regina, “then what do you want?”

She seemed to cower from the question, “I don’t know.”

You nodded. You met her eyes and you felt your lip quiver, so you turned your face away, “then… I guess… if you figure it out, let me know. I… I’m upset right now but… I don’t want to lose you either.” 

With that, you turned around and left. 

Regina didn’t see you skip lunch to go outside and cry until the next class period. 

You didn’t see Regina go into one of the bathroom stalls and do the same.

Next Chapter

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 2) // t. nott

RATING: PG -13 / 1.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* A continuation of the interesting situation you unknowingly placed yourself in. Theo takes you, in your Animagus form, back to his dorm room and attempts to take a nap with his new friend. (Comedy?) (Read Part One first)

+ WARNINGS - Language, nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing)

New Perspective - P!ATD (it's stuck in my head)

*I just wanted to say that I am sorry this is so short and may not be the best follow-up to Part One, but I really hope you like it. It was kind of rushed because I had a really busy, frustrating day, but wanted to write!*

---

Every few minutes, Theo would shoot a glance towards his annoyingly persistent group of friends. His glare became sharper and sharper each time, but, still, they refused to stop giggling and teasing.

He could barely focus on his bloody work and they were absolutely not going to stop any time soon. He groaned and got to his feet, shoving all of his schoolwork quickly into his bag, keeping you safely cradled in his arms. Maybe you’d attach to him and sleep at the end of his bed and stuff. He’d have to get some cat food.

Their giggling and whispers came to a stop as soon as he stood. They watched him closely, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“Oh, so now you all shut up?” Theo growled. “I’m trying to get work done. How am I supposed to do anything when you all are—?” He mocked their giggling.

“Sorry, Theo, we just missed you,” Mattheo joked, “we wanted to be close to you.”

“Yeah, right, why are you really here?” Theo asked.

None of them answered. Just all glanced at each other and started giggling again. He rolled his eyes and started towards the library’s entrance.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy asked.

“To my dorm and you better not follow!” Theo warned, never looking back. Their laughter only got louder. He groaned in frustration and slammed through the library door, careful not to jostle your sleeping figure too much. You slept pretty heavily for a cat.

He pushed through the occasional crowd of students on their way to classes as he headed towards his dorm. Hopefully, nobody would be in there and he’d finally get some peace and quiet for him and you. He had a million things to get done.

He walked rather quickly until he came upon the Slytherin dorm entrance. He spoke the password and made his way across the threshold, melting at the small coo you made in your sleep.

“Aw, I love you, little thing,” he laughed. “You don’t belong to Hogwarts anymore, you belong to me. What should I name you?”

He followed the staircase up to his assigned dorm and finally tossed all of his stuff onto the desk next to his bed. He gently set you down on his freshly-made bed and assured himself that you were wrapped up cozily in your little wool blanket. A small smile appeared on his face.

Distantly, he could hear his irritating friends downstairs. They laughed and joked noisily with other Slytherin students down in the common room. He refrained from rolling his eyes as he set all of his work out yet again. He was getting this shit done—today, with no more interruptions.

He grabbed his wand and flicked it at the door. The wooden lock against it landed with a heavy clunk. If someone needed to come in, they could state their name and business.

You stretched in your sleep once more, releasing a purring yawn. He smiled at the motion and brushed the tip of his quill’s feather over your face gently.

He turned back to the papers and books scattered across his desk and set to work. Circling answers, scrawling out short answers, and highlighting passages. The warmth from the sun pushed through the window, gently heating his hands, face, and a sliver of your back on his bed. Every few minutes or so, he’d lean over and run a soothing hand over your head or back.

His friends had quieted down downstairs and seemed to have gotten bored of whatever stupid joke they were playing on Theo. He figured they were just trying to get him to think they were talking about him or hiding something from him. Which was really annoying. He’d never done anything like that to them, so what the hell?

As his hand worked the quill across the parchment, his mind wandered a bit. He wondered if you’d ever gone back and picked up your stuff from the library. Maybe you’d forgotten it? It doesn’t really seem like you were the type of person to forget all of your stuff, though. He shrugged. Maybe he’d go down later and see if it was still there.

After about an hour or so of working, Theo pushed out of the desk chair and pulled his body into a tall stretch. He groaned at the release and popped his knuckles. He was sort of tired, come to think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he skipped his fourth period. He’d tell Professor Sprout he wasn’t feeling well, which, after accidentally being transfigured into a toad in McGonagall’s earlier, he didn’t exactly feel one-hundred percent.

Just as he was scooting you gently up next to his pillows and slipping beneath the comforters, a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” Theo asked.

“It’s us, man, just let us in.” Mattheo.

“Absolutely not, I’m busy.”

“Please, we really think it would be in your best benefit to open the door.”

“Do you need something out of here?” Theo called back, settling comfortably beneath the blankets.

“No, but—”

“Is someone injured or dying?”

“No—”

“Then you don’t need to be in here—you’re just going to keep picking on me,” Theo grumbled. He tucked his arm under the covers and curled his hand around you, pulling your back against his chest. You purred in your sleep. You were so warm.

He ignored their persistent pounding at the door and settled in, closing his tired eyes. This was going to be the best nap of his life.

He was teetering on the edge of being awake and not when he felt something move against him. It felt like something had touched his legs. Maybe you’d gotten up and moved farther down the bed. But he was pretty sure you were still curled beneath his arm. He wasn’t sure and he was too tired to care. Though it really felt weird…

“Ugh, why doesn’t he just open the door?” Pansy grunted, slamming her hand against the wood once more. “The teasing was funny, but I didn’t think he’d actually take her to his dorm!”

“Yeah, I don’t think any of us did,” Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why was she sleeping in her Animagus form, anyways?” Enzo asked. The other two shrugged.

From the other side of the door, it had gotten completely quiet, and they all wondered if he had laid down with you. They all hoped he hadn’t. It would have been funny to see you wake up, confused and angry, in his lap, but it might not be so funny if you were in his bed. You might think you’d been kidnapped or something.

Just as the thought hit, they all started pounding on the door more.

Somewhere near the back of your head, you heard muffled pounding and shouting. It sounded like a small army parading about the room. You wondered if the Quidditch team was practicing outside the library’s window or something like that.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Hopefully, nobody had moved your stuff. You still had a ton of work to do. You groaned and raised your arms to stretch out when you realized the bottoms of your arms caught more material. The armchair was bigger than you realized. And a lot more comfortable…

You began rubbing sleep from your eyes as you started to lean up. As you did, something caught your body and held you pinned against the chair. You opened your eyes in confusion, looking at the material below you. Not a chair….a bed? Had someone taken you back to your room? You glanced down and saw a tanned arm wrapped tightly around you. What the fuck? Maybe you got laid.

You turned over and came within inches of Theodore Nott’s nose.

“This is literally the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in…” Enzo sighed. They all had given up on trying to beat the door down and sat against the wood, waiting for one of the two of you to wake up. They hoped it wasn’t going to be too bad of a situation.

Best case, you guys awkwardly brushed it off and went your separate ways. Worse case….

A shrill scream pierced their ears. They, and half of the common room, flinched at the sudden noise. That high-pitched whistle was soon accompanied by a more dulcet shout. Both drew out for at least 30 seconds. The three students cringed at the realization that you two had woken up.

“Fuck,” Mattheo said. They all dropped their faces into their hands.

Part 3!

[annwrites]

one in the same. part two.

— pairing: otto hightower x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: otto comes to the library for a bit of solitude, but finds you there instead.

— tw: none

— word count: 2,185

You jump when you hear the heavy doors to the library firmly shut. Solid footsteps then echo across the marble floor.

You remain quiet, silently stepping, then peering around the corner of a large bookshelf, greeted by the sight of Ser Otto lying his palms flat atop a cherry-wood table, sighing, closing his eyes, shoulders slumping forward slightly, as if out of exhaustion.

You've been thankful more times than you can count for your lack of involvement in politics. Rhaenyra can have the throne—she is most welcome to it. You, meanwhile, are more than content in your books and embroidery, long walks and peacefully wading through the clear waters of the Blackwater beneath the Keep, accompanied by none other than yourself.

Let the men have at it, you say.

You clutch your book close to your chest, heart pounding, as you realize this is the first time you've ever spied on the older man.

He has seemed rather busy—perhaps even distracted, as of late—since Rhaenyra's appointment as your father's heir, and Daemon's fleeing to Dragonstone.

You had not been sad to see your half-uncle go, however. He had always made you uncomfortable with his lingering gazes and double-edged jests that you'd always pretended to be too ignorant to understand, so you would not have to acknowledge the things he was really saying.

Otto lifts his head then, and you quickly step back around the corner, carefully sliding your book back into place upon the shelf before you, listening as he comes closer.

You don't know why you feel the need to hide, but there's something exciting about it—you being aware of him, but not him of you.

You wonder how many times it has been the other way around. What all it is, exactly, that he knows about you.

You silently slide another book from the shelf, watching him through the empty space as he peruses the expansive selection of literature before him. He turns, so you quickly duck as he finds the tome he had come for, heading back to the table. He then retrieves a map, unrolling it, settling weights upon each corner, and your lip twitches.

What you're doing feels so...forbidden. Gazing upon him like this. All alone.

Just the two of you.

Your eyes trail along his lean frame—his black cloak, lined with fur, his green tunic, the sword at his side. You briefly wonder how adept he is at using it. Or, at the very least, once was. You try to imagine it: him with a weapon in-hand, cutting down a foe, but struggle to conjure such an image within your mind's eye.

You bite back a smirk when you consider trying to scare him. It would be all-too easy. You don't think he would take too kindly to that, however. You still have yet to learn where it is, exactly, that the two of you stand.

After that day in the Sept, when he had offered you consolation, you'd thought of him...rather often. And with a newfound warmth, which unsettled you. For years you had loathed him, had felt nothing but such sentiments toward him, and had never believed you would feel anything other than. Until you did.

You'd hardly spoken since, however. You'd passed one another in the halls—nothing remarkable to speak of ever occurring between the two of you, though. You did not so much as acknowledge the other when you did. But once or twice, his hand had brushed against yours, and when you glanced over your shoulder, watching him go, his steps never faltered; his own head did not turn.

But, once, his hand had flexed down at his side—long fingers stretching—before forming a fist as he disappeared round a corner, leaving you staring after him.

You roll your eyes, quickly tiring of watching him do nothing but read and plot, and grab a random book and a small step-stool before settling the object before a window, climbing up, seating yourself, and leaning back against the colored pane.

Otto's head jerks up and in your direction, only now realizing that he is not alone.

"My Lady," his low voice drawls.

You glance up to him from your novel with a raised brow. "Ser Otto," you reply before looking back down.

You feel his eyes remaining upon you, but pretend to ignore it as you flip the page, not even aware of whatever it is that you're reading, unable to concentrate on much else but the sensation of him watching you.

He slowly walks toward you, hands behind his back. "You did not make me aware of your presence."

"Should I have?" You ask, turning another page. "I was here first, after all."

He shakes his head. "Were you?"

You look up to him. And then you catch onto his sarcasm and your lip twitches. "I suppose you have been here for a very long time."

He glances down to the book in your lap, not taking the bait. "May I?"

You shrug, offering it to him and he takes it, holding it between his hands. "Battles and Sieges of the Century of Blood. An accounting of the fall of Sarnor, if I recall. A particular interest of yours?" He looks to you from under his lashes with a raised brow.

You flush. You should've bothered looking at the spine before just grabbing the first book you saw.

He hands it back to you. "I see the septa's teachings have become more encompassing."

You close the book, looking toward his makeshift-desk for the afternoon. "And what are you working on, I wonder?"

You hop down, walking over, leaving your book behind.

He folds his arms behind his back, standing straight, watching as you analyze the map spread across the tabletop.

"Do you know how to read a map, My Lady?"

You roll your eyes at his doubtful tone. "Yes," you lie.

He hums. "Show me where we are currently located, then."

Great.

You stare dumbly at the colored drawings of green and blue and brown and white, refusing to admit that you have no idea where to even guess at being.

"Do you need a hint?" He asks, stepping closer.

You frown. "So, I'm not versed in geography. I wouldn't need to be anyway, considering I've never been outside of King's Landing." Or the Red Keep, really.

He points to a place on the left side of the map, toward the bottom of a large splotch of green. "Here."

"Where is Oldtown?" You ask.

You don't see the small smile that graces his lips when he indicates its position next.

You nod, glancing to the heavy, dusty tome to your left. You then turn, looking up at Otto as you lean back against the table. "Maps and plotting. Do I need to be worried?"

He pulls out a chair, seating himself.

It's when he leans back, folding his hands over his abdomen—the sunlight from the window casting shadows across his face—that you realize just how exhausted he looks. It seemed to be his permanent expression now.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, My Lady. Things will...eventually be well in-hand in time, I'm sure."

You sigh. "You don't have to refer to me by my title each time we converse. Just so you are aware."

He looks up at you. "What would you prefer?"

You clasp your hands before you. "My given name is just as well."

He considers your request for a moment. "Only when we are alone, then."

You nod. "And you?"

"Otto is fine."

You look over your shoulder toward the map. "Will you not tell me, Otto?"

It feels so incredibly strange to not preface his name with 'Ser'.

He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. "What I speak of to you remains between us."

Who else would you have to tell? "Of course."

He looks to the map. "The continent where we are located, do you see—at the bottom—the broken pieces of land leading east?"

You turn, planting your palms atop the table. "Yes."

He stands then, closely, his side pressed against your own as he gestures to them. "They are known as the Stepstones. There is a triarchy of free cities—Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh," he points to each, "that have invaded the area. Initially, we had thought they'd brought an end to a problem for many. Corsairs and outlaws—a troublesome danger—have impacted trade and travel between us and Essos for many a year now, which they took swift and sudden action against some time ago.

"But they have, slowly, become what they set out to destroy, however: yet another foe toward those who are meant to be their allies. They've imposed taxes and tariffs that have risen to unthinkable levels. I fear war is afoot if an agreement can not be settled upon in due time."

You don't like the sound of that: war.

"Will...will they come here, if fighting does commence?"

He shakes his head. "I doubt it. They would be ignorant to try."

You chew your lip. "What do you plan to do?"

He places his hand against the small of your back. "Let us speak no more of this. I do not wish for you to trouble yourself with political matters. Things will be handled duly, I am sure of it."

You agree easily. "Where is Highgarden?"

He indicates with his index finger a place not terribly far from Oldtown. "Why do you ask, Y/N?"

You shrug. "I've wondered about many places, since I have seen none," you reply quietly.

He faces you. "Where would you go, then, if you had the choice? Anywhere in the Known World." He pauses. "Highgarden?"

You smile, nodding gently. "I think it would be my first destination, yes."

"And why is that?"

You look up at him. He may mock you for your response. If so, you'll take your leave.

"I only know what I have read; seen in paintings. It seems something from a fairytale."

"I dare say it is."

His hand brushes against yours. "Is that all?"

You shrug. "I know women are not allowed, but I find the Citadel to be fascinating. All those books and scrolls..."

You then glance to the small pendant of the Hightower that is pinned to his chest. "Do you think I would like it there?" You ask, looking up to him.

He raises a brow.

You nod toward his pin.

He gives a small smile. "You can see clear across the Sunset Sea the closer you are to the top of the structure. So I dare say, yes, you would."

You walk to a bookshelf, browsing. "Do you miss it?"

"My brother at times, perhaps. I am thankful for my high room here, however. It reminds me of home."

You smile to yourself at that. "Were you frightened when King Jaehaerys summoned you as his new Hand?"

"No. Not in the least. Honored the more fitting sentiment for my reaction to such an appointment."

You reach up, standing on tip-toes for a book on a high shelf, then huff when you do not even come close to reaching it.

Otto rounds the table, then watches with a frown as you jump in a poor attempt at retrieving it, your long curls bouncing.

He presses himself to your back as he grabs it with ease, lowering it to you. "Is it truly so difficult to ask for aid, My—" He pauses. "Y/N."

You turn around, your chest pressed to his as you stare up, into hues of green. "I could say the same to you."

He settles his arms behind his back. "And how might that be?"

"You don't have to carry it alone: everything that weighs upon you. You needn't place all the Realm upon your shoulders—"

"Because you—or I, for that fact—are so adept at...sharing ourselves. Our innermost thoughts. Turmoil."

You blink up at him. "I did—that day in the Sept. I believe you did as well, when we discussed matters of faith, or lack thereof."

He steps away. "Hard truths are not often easy to share. Particularly with those we are still yet...unfamiliar with."

You raise a brow. "I hardly can be expected to believe that I am unfamiliar to you."

He looks down to the map once again, placing figures upon it, then rearranging. "I do not know what it is that you mean to imply."

You snort lightly, which causes him to look at you.

"You have never had me spied upon, then? I remember some years ago, when I bloomed into...womanhood, a sudden change in my servants. Each and every one. It has only been mere speculation on my part, but I always suspected you had a hand in it."

He shrugs. "Mere conjecture."

Gods, he's so frustrating.

He speaks again. "And now you have spied upon me, hiding between rows of books. Mayhaps we are even?"

You smirk, stepping up to the other side of the table, across from him. "Not even close, Ser."

[ellecdc]

Wolfstar x bookworm!reader

What about reader, Regulus and Barty have their own little chaotic book club and Wolfstar often have to go in search of reader as Barty happens to enjoy switching the location of said meetings.

Wolfstar Sirius, ends up dragging reader away for cuddles and reader ends up reading to them, running her fingers through Sirius's hair as he needs extra affection

Hope this inspires you, I hope you feel better soon, sending all my optimism your way 🫶

you guys really came through with the cutest wolfstar requests - thank you and I owe you my life

poly!wolfstar x bookworm!reader who has a book club with Regulus and Barty...much to Sirius' chagrin

CW: fem!reader, Sirius being a sucky baby, Barty being a shit disturber, Regulus being exhausted, Remus being there for the drama

Remus didn’t bother looking up from his book at the sound of his dorm room door slamming open unceremoniously followed by the sound of Quidditch equipment falling in a heap on the ground because he didn’t need to; it had Sirius written all over it.

Not only would Prongs never treat his equipment with such disrespect and disregard, but he also always came back from practice far too excitedly.

“Fucking hells, Prongs is working us hard.” Sirius grumbled as he fell face first spread-eagle onto his bed. 

“Rough.” Remus gruffed back, knowing better than to try to say anything even remotely supportive of James’ coaching methods, but also not feeling particularly sorry for his boyfriend, seeing as he actively chooses to be on the Gryffindor team every year.

“Where’s our dolly?” Sirius mumbled into his bedding. 

Remus failed to smother a smirk as he flipped a page in his book. “Reading.”

Sirius’ head popped up at that as he looked at Remus bemusedly. “Then why isn’t she here reading with you?”

“Because she’s reading with her book club.”

Remus’ response was met with a small bout of silence.

A very small bout.

“Why aren’t you in the book club?”

Remus finally let his book fall to his lap in order to consider Sirius. “Because I’m not reading the same book as they are.”

“Who’s they?”

“Sirius.” Remus warned.

“Remus.” Sirius returned without hesitation. 

The two boys stared insistently at the other; Remus fighting the urge to laugh at how petulant Sirius looked with his hair still all windswept and falling out of the bun he’d thrown it in for practice. 

“Who’s they?” Sirius repeated with faux casualty. 

“Regulus and Junior.”

All faux casualty was thrown out the window as Sirius slammed his hands onto his bed and sat up on his knees quickly. “You’re sodding kidding me!” 

“‘Fraid not, Pads.” Remus offered as he turned to look back down at his book.

Sirius was having none of that as he accio’d Remus’ book into his hand.

“You let her leave with Regulus and Junior!?”

“What do you mean let, Pads? I’m not her keeper.” Remus scolded. Sirius looked like he really wanted to argue with that point, but also knew better. 

“Well…this is just not right at all!” 

“What makes it wrong, Sirius? That she’s not here to cuddle you?” Remus asked flatly. 

“Yes!” He shouted in exasperation as he headed towards the dorm room door, and whilst Remus found his boyfriend quite exhausting right now, he couldn’t pass up the show this was guaranteed to provide. 

Any tension that dissipated from Sirius’ shoulders as he spotted you in the library quickly returned when he also spotted his younger brother and his brother’s best friend sitting along with you. 

Regulus rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut abruptly knowing full well that Sirius’ temper tantrum was about to force their book club to a close, but Barty simply smirked at the promise of some drama. 

“Sorry, but I’m afraid this book club is closed; we’ve already hit our quota for Black’s.” Barty jeered as Sirius approached your table.

“Sod off, Junior.” He grumbled quietly.

“Hi Siri! How was your practice?” You asked cheerfully; Remus almost laughed at the way most of Sirius’ ire melted away at the question.

“Long.” He pouted, causing you to coo in sympathy.

“James working you too hard?” You asked tenderly, taking his first two fingers into your hand from where his hand was dangling dejectedly beside you. 

“Oh cry me a sodding river, Black.” Barty scoffed. “Now would you skedaddle please? We’re trying to have a tantalising discussion on the ins and outs of the literary masterpiece Alice in Wonderland.”

Remus couldn't restrain the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. “Are you guys actually reading Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes.” Regulus sneered defensively. 

“Treasure thought I’d love it.” Barty explained haughtily. “And she was right.”

“I don’t give a thestral’s arse what you’re reading, Junior; I want my girlfriend back!” Sirius barked, earning him shushes from surrounding students. 

Barty looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the verbal sparring that was no doubt growing to near physical sparring levels when Regulus rolled his eyes and stood. “Barty, please; I really don’t feel like fielding one of my brother’s meltdowns.”

“Maybe I feel like fielding one of your brother’s meltdowns; did you ever think about that, Regulus? Salazar, you Black’s are so selfish.” He spat with vitriol; and though he continued berating his friend, he did in fact collect his book and his notes and stand from the table, continuing to jeer at Regulus as they exited the library. 

“I’m sorry we interrupted your book club, lovebug.” Remus placated as you turned to consider your two boyfriends. 

“I’m not!” Sirius argued quickly. “I wanted my post-practice cuddles.” He pouted, the end of his sentence trailing off as Remus noted the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks. 

Your face softened as you looked at Sirius with equal parts love and teasing. “I’m terribly sorry, Siri.” 

“Well…thank you.” He mumbled. 

“Come on then.” Remus offered with a laugh, patting Sirius on the bum roughly. “Let’s go for our post-practice cuddles then.”

You stood from the table, accepting Remus’ hand as you did.

“No, none for Moony.” Sirius whined petulantly, causing Remus to scoff indignantly. 

“Why not!?”

“You have not been sympathetic nor helpful in the slightest to my plight.”

“I came with you to fetch her!” Remus defended. 

“No.” Sirius started, throwing him a glare that held little to no malice. “You came to watch me argue with Junior and Reg.”

“Same thing.” Remus muttered quietly, earning him another glare from Sirius.

You squeezed Remus’ hand twice as you bumped your elbow into Sirius’ side, encouraging him to throw an arm over your shoulders. “What book would you like to read, Sirius?” You asked him sweetly. 

And that’s how Remus found himself laying on his bed alone as you and Sirius laid in his bed; Sirius’ head propped on your chest as you read from the beginning of Alice in Wonderland and played with his hair the way he liked equally in his human and animagus form. And Remus couldn’t find it in him to be particularly perturbed when the two of you looked so sodding sweet.

[sectumsempraaa]

And Now I Do

Pairing: Draco x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

TW: none really, pure fluff

Synopsis: You and Draco have been dating for a few weeks now. When you get a PT job in Hogsmeade, he disapproves of how much time it takes away from being together.

Word count: 2k (almost)

Hello everyone 🤍 This is my first fic ever! I've been reading all your lovely stories, fingers crossed I am half as talented as you all. Sorry if it's long? I'm a thorough gal. Enjoy :)

“Ugh, do you have to?” Draco groans into your neck as he sucks on your skin lightly, giving a gentle tug. You giggle, playfully pushing him away with a hand on his chest.

“Yes, Draco, I have to go to work.” you respond, as he gives you the biggest puppy-love eyes. You shift away from him because you know the longer you look at him, the deeper you’ll be under his spell. You two had just started dating a couple weeks ago and, to your friends’ dismay, very much want to spend every waking moment together. But you had also recently gotten a job in Hogsmeade at a coffee shop to make some money for yourself, since your parents’ vault at Gringotts was not the most… plentiful.

“Why did you get a job anyways? I could think of a thousand other, better, things we could be doing…” his voice trails off as he climbs across the bed and grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles, using his other hand to tug you by your shirt closer to him.You hum and shake your head, pulling away and stepping into your shoes next to the door.

“Because if we want to spend the holidays together, I have to be able to afford it.” He gives you a sympathetic look and sighs, dramatically falling backwards onto your bed. A pang of longing hits your chest and has you turning around. “And…” you saunter back to the edge of the bed, climbing up to straddle him. You feel his hands touch your thighs, crawling their way up your skirt. Leaning down, you take his face in your hands, your noses grazing. “All the gifts I want to get you.”

He smirks and sits up, engulfing your lips with his. The kiss becomes deeper with each stolen breath, you feel his hands grab your ass as your arms wrap around his neck. He smiles devilishly and whispers into your mouth, “I still think it’s rubbish.”

—

It’s been a few weeks now, the holidays drawing nearer. Late November at Hogwarts was always your favorite, and now it’s even better with Draco constantly cuddling you and taking any opportunity to wrap you in his Slytherin robes.

You’re in the library working on yet another essay for Charms class when you feel a familiar presence looming over you. You glance up to find Draco with both his hands leaning on the table in front of you, his smile fading quickly when he notices the bags under your eyes.

“Love, you need a break. Please take a break.” He begs as he slides your parchment towards him, forcing you to stop. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Your vision feels delayed, eyes moving around the room, with no sense of time. It could be midnight or five in the morning. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, working endlessly to catch up on school after your shift. You work nearly every day now until 8pm, usually starting assignments and working on them late into the night. It hasn’t become uncommon for you to fall asleep in the library or in an empty classroom.

“I’m fine, really, I just…” your voice fades to a whisper as your eyes start to close. Draco taps a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze to his.

“Sweetheart, someone who forgets to take off their work uniform before diving into hours of homework isn’t fine.” You look down and notice you’re still wearing your apron from the coffee shop, covered in tea and food stains. Sighing, you lift your hands to your face, despite being too tired to be embarrassed.

“That’s it. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. You’re not going to work tomorrow.” You hear him speak but it sounds so far away through the brain fog in your head.

“Can’t call out…” is all you could get out before your vocal cords give up.

You feel Draco walk behind you and start to untie your apron, resting it on his shoulder as he helps you out of your seat. “Arms, love.” He says as you wrap them around his neck, submitting to his instruction. He picks you up with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. The last thing you remember is snuggling your face against his shoulder and breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne before you drifted off.

—

You wake up the next morning, but not in your room. You recognize the dark green wallpaper instantly as you raise your head off the pillow. You grab Draco’s watch off his nightstand and nearly fall out of bed when you see the time.

“Oh my god, shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath, looking around the room frantically to find you’re alone. You grab your apron off the back of his armchair and bolt for the door, trying not to think about how late you are for your Saturday opening shift. You make it to the common room and slam into someone while rounding the corner, yelling in the midst of your rush.

“FUCK, Theo!” you shout as his eyes widen and a boyish laugh comes out of his mouth as he steadies you with his arms on your shoulders.

“Didn’t know the angelic Hufflepuff could curse,” he says while looking down at you. Your face turning red, you blow past him to the common room door. He starts calling after you again but you have no time to listen.

“No need to run, cara mia…” 

—

Entirely out of breath, you sprint your way off school grounds and all the way to Hogsmeade, trying to ignore the mess of hair sitting on top of your head and the racing heart beating in your chest. Right as you approach the door to the shop, you stop suddenly in your path when it opens in front of you, revealing a Draco that looks a little too pleased with himself.

“What… what are you…” you attempt to speak, choking on the dry air as it tries to fill your aching lungs. “Why didn’t you… wake me up?...” you manage to ask with a hand on your chest and the other on your knee.

Draco takes you in his arms, waiting a minute before giving you an explanation. “First, you need to come back down to Earth. Then I’ll explain. Gods, you look-”

“Careful.” You manage to interrupt him before he finishes the thought, throwing an angered glare up at him.

“Rested. Beautiful, and rested.” he says to you gently, enough to make you melt as he tucks a hair behind your ear while you catch your breath. He cups a hand on your cheek and you notice the smirk that hasn’t left his face since he walked out of the shop.

“Something’s up. What did you do?” you ask urgently, looking quickly between him and the shop.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m up to no good?” he jokes, earning him another angry glare from you.

“Maybe you are!” your eyes go a little wide as the volume of your voice surprises you. He takes a step closer to you, eyes narrowing, taking your face in his hands to make you look at him.

“Maybe I can’t stand to see you crumbling before me every night, maybe I’m tired of saying hello to my girlfriend in passing. Maybe I’m selfish and want you all to myself,” his words slow to a halt before giving you a knowing look. “And now I do.”

He lets go of your face, letting you step back with a face full of confusion. Eyebrows furrowed, you grow silent as you notice the shop owner behind the counter through the windows doing the side work you normally do each morning. Draco interrupts your puzzled thoughts by holding up a piece of paper to your face.

“I gave your two weeks.”

“You… what?” Your brain nearly shuts down. This isn’t real.

“Here.” He hands you an envelope, which you hesitate to take. Opening it slowly, your gut tells you that you already know what this is.

“I took your earnings to Gringotts this morning. The cash in your book bag. You can’t be carrying that kind of money around. We opened an account for you.”

“...we?”

“My father might have helped. Not many people can manipulate the bank, love.” You know he’s making playful banter but you’re still working hard to put the pieces together. You stare down at the check, watching a tear fall down to it, marking the paper. You didn’t have to ask about the extra couple of zeros that magically appeared next to what you actually earned.

“Don’t argue with me. You’ll lose. Let me, let us, take care of you. We can and we want to.” he says gently.

You look up from the check and receipts to the boy standing before you. A stern look on his face tells you enough. He’s right. You’re overworked, underpaid, and on the brink of failing classes. And maybe worst of all, you rarely get to spend time together. This isn’t benefiting anyone anymore. You just feel guilty that it took another person to fix it before you.

“Darling, as much as I’m a fan of the dramatics, I am starting to worry your silence is an indication of my quick and impending death.” he jokes, rubbing his chin with his hands.

“Okay.” you whisper.

He grabs a curl laying on your shoulder and twists it around his fingers. “Yeah?”

You smile up at him, quickly stepping onto your tippy toes to kiss him. His arms wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your sides. Your kiss claims him, the only way you know how to thank him right now. This is your man, your man who provides. When you pull away, he rests his forehead on yours, relieved at your surrender.

“Yeah.” You let out a small laugh as the blush takes over your cheeks. A feeling of pride grows in you as you realize how much you’ve earned this. He took a huge risk in doing this at all, knowing how upset it could have made you.

“Good, because you really had me thinking I was a dead man there for a minute.”

“Mmm, maybe not dead but… a stupefy might have crossed my mind.” He laughs and pulls you in for a tight, warm hug.

You take his hand and lead him away from the shop, down the street towards The Three Broomsticks. He asks where you’re leading him to and, with a bright smile, turn back to him, walking backwards momentarily to face him. Your hand still clutched with his, he swings it back and forth.

“We are, finally, going on a date. And it’s on me. Yeah?” Biting your lip, you lift your eyebrows, waiting for his response. This time, it’s his face that goes crimson as he flips his hair, adjusting the buttons on his jacket to look more presentable.

“Yeah.” He stops and pulls you to him again, lifting and spinning you around this time, a loud laugh escaping your mouth. “Wait until my parents meet my girl. My wonderful, gorgeous, thoughtful, hilarious, and slightly threatening, girl. I can’t think of a more perfect Christmas present.”

“Hmm, that’s too bad, cause I was gonna buy you many, many more.” You kiss his cheek with enough pressure to make him burst into laughter again. He puts you down and looks at you seriously.

“Love, you’re smart enough to know I will beat you in that contest.” He reaches around your neck to untie your apron, letting it fall to the ground, leaving it behind.

 Yeah, he will.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[writingforrhys]

as you were

cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!

masterlist

Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.

He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.

The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.

There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.

Gods, he needed to find you.

He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.

He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.

Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?

The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.

"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"

His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.

"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.

No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.

And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.

"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"

A head shake.

"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"

Silence.

"Who."

You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.

"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."

"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.

"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."

The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.

"What did they say?"

You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.

Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.

Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.

"I'm off to kill some sisters."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.

Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"

Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.

"You."

Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.

Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.

"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."

"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."

The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.

"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"

"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."

"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"

The room was silent. Elain was red.

A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.

"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.

"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.

"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.

Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.

Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.

Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.

"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.

"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."

"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."

"Neither did I, Rhys."

Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"

"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."

"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.

"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."

Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."

Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.

"Do not let me hear of this again."

And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.

The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.

Typical, Nesta thought.

"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."

She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.

"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.

"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."

"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.

"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."

He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.

"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."

Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.

"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."

And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.

You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.

Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.

He loved you just as you were.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Two

Summary: Y/N decides to leave the bunker for good when Dean reiterates that he can never give her what she wants. Struggling to adjust without her, Dean turns to hormone suppressants, unable to stomach the thought of going through a rut with anyone else.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Hormone Suppressants for @j3bingo

Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, angst, arguments, heats, ruts, language, Dean’s still a bit of an asshole.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: The response to the first part of this angsty, angsty fic has been overwhelming. Thank you to every single one of you who read and commented and reblogged. It means so much 🥹 Now, without further ado, I hope you love part two!

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Being back in the bunker is suffocating, and you haven’t even been back twelve hours yet. The mild cramps in your stomach are now an annoying and constant discomfort, and being near Dean is only making it worse. Your body is so used to the green-eyed hunter that his scent has you craving him. If you don’t get out of here and find another alpha, you know you’ll cave and go to the man who keeps breaking your heart.

Digging into the depths of your meagre closet, you pull out one of the few dresses you have and get ready to have a night on the town. It’s nerve-wracking; you haven’t done this in a long time, but you need to kick old habits and rid yourself of your addiction to Dean. It’s no longer a healthy relationship—maybe it never had been—but your last time together opened your eyes and proved that he doesn’t see you as anything other than a fuck toy.

Walking through the hallways of the bunker, your heels click loudly on the cold, concrete floors as you head towards the library. You know at least one of the boys will be there, and you pray to Chuck it’s Sam. You’d skip this part entirely, given it’s none of their business, but as an unmated omega going to find someone to satisfy a heat, it’s probably best that someone knows your intentions.

As you turn the corner into the room, the scent of Dean’s agitation slaps you in the face. If you’re not careful and can’t control your emotions, it’ll end in a fight and a tumble in the sheets, and that’s really the last thing you need.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Dean asks as soon as he sets eyes on you.

“Out,” you respond.

“You’re in heat, Omega,” Dean growls.

“I’m aware,” you can feel your body warm as his gaze on you intensifies.

“Do you think it’s wise to go out in your condition?” Dean questions, and you fight your biological instinct to shrink in on yourself and submit to him. 

“I need to find an alpha who’ll help me through this, so yes, I do think it’s wise.”

“You have me, Y/N.” Dean’s tone softens, and the hurt that flashes in his eyes almost makes you run to him.

“No, I don’t. Not anymore.” You don’t wait for his response, walking out of the library and up the stairs because you’re so close to saying screw it and making him take you right there in the library.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” you call out and shut the bunker door behind you.

You know you won’t find what you’re looking for in the bar a few towns over, but at least you’ll find someone who can scratch your current itch and make you forget about Dean fucking Winchester.

At least for a few days.

DEAN’S POV

Dean feels his heart shatter as he watches Y/N walk out the door. This isn’t how he wanted things to go with her. He wanted to talk to her and apologise for his behaviour during his last rut. At least if he’d done that, there was a chance they could still have some kind of relationship.

What they had is gone. He knows that. He’s hurt her too much. If he’d dealt with things differently, they’d still have had the potential to at least be civil to one another, but his gut’s telling him that the opportunity for civility has gone.

He can’t blame himself entirely; she hasn’t let herself be alone with him since he’d realised how much of an asshole he’d been to her. Dean had expected her to come to him last night when the scent of her heat became stronger and carried through the bunker, but she’d remained shut in her bedroom. He isn’t even sure she’d eaten since yesterday morning.

“Hey,” Sam says as he sits beside his brother and hands him a beer. “I heard you and Y/N talking. You alright?”

“No, Sammy, I’m not. You know, it never once occurred to me that what Y/N and I had could end?”

“It doesn’t have to,” Sam says softly, noticing tears in Dean’s eyes.

“Yeah, it does. I can’t give her what she wants—”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam interrupts, and Dean’s heart pangs at the implication he’s being his usual stubborn ass alpha self.

“I can’t, Sam.” Dean didn’t usually show his vulnerabilities to Sam. He’s the pack leader and can’t afford to show weakness. The only person he’s ever shown vulnerability to is Y/N.

“Why?” Sam’s question is simple, but the weight of the answer is something Dean’s not sure he’s ready to admit out loud.

“It’s complicated,” Dean answers and takes a long swig of beer, drinking half the bottle in two swallows.

“Enlighten me, Dean, because from where I’m standing, it’s not complicated at all. You already have an emotional bond with her. You’ve been mating with her for what, six or seven years? Why is it so hard for you to claim her, have that deeper chemical bond, and make you both happy by having a couple of pups? It’d be nice to have some little ones running around here.”

“Because the second I claim her, she has a target on her back. She’ll become the hunted. Every monster on the continent will want to tear her apart to get to me. And that’s something I won’t survive.”

“So you do want to claim her?” Sam confirms, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Of course I do!” Dean’s voice booms across the library. “I love her. More than anything. I always have, but I would rather die than put her in danger because of me and who I am,” Dean can’t keep his turmoil to himself anymore. Now it’s out in the open with Sam, he can’t shut the hell up. “I have thought of every way possible to give her what she wants… for years. Give us what we want, but in every scenario, she ends up dead, and I end up alone.”

“Dean, if you keep going the way you have been, she’ll die, and you’ll be alone anyway. And if you let her walk out of here and into the arms of another alpha, you’ll still be alone.”

“I know that, Sam! But I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone and know she was safe and happy with another alpha and a few pups than put a target on her back by claiming her! What part of that don’t you understand?”

“You think Y/N would be happy with another alpha? You think she wanted to go out hunting for someone else to fuck her through her heat? You think she’s not wishing it was you? You think she doesn’t love you? Because she does, Dean! It’s clear to everyone!” Sam’s frustrations reach boiling point, and he no longer has the patience to hold back. “That curse she saved me from loosely translated to stealing what your brother has broken and making it yours. If she hadn’t got between me and that witch, and I’d been hit by that curse, I’d have claimed Y/N for myself because you’re too chicken shit to do it. You know what that means, right? That even the witch knew you were in some kind of relationship. Even just being associated with you in the way she is makes her a target. And she’s an even bigger one without a claim.”

“Then maybe it’s for the best that she’s out there trying to find someone to take care of her,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Sam’s exasperation.

“No, Dean! It means that, claimed or not, monsters know what Y/N is to you and you to her. It means she’s already a target, and you’ve been protecting her from the monsters for a long time. Claiming her and having pups with her isn’t going to change that.”

“Look, can we just drop this? Y/N is better off without me, okay? And nothing you say will change my mind. She deserves something good, and I’m not good.” 

Pushing his chair back, Dean stands from the table and enters the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and locks himself in his bedroom to lick his wounds.

It may not be the healthiest way to deal with things, but at least getting blind drunk on whiskey will stop the images of Y/N presenting for another alpha or taking another’s knot from playing like a video in his mind.

FIVE DAYS LATER

Y/N’S POV

“You’re alive, then,” Dean’s voice greets you as soon as you step into the bunker.

“I am,” you respond, warily making your way down the stairs. You’re on high alert, knowing this could turn volatile very quickly.

“You alright?” he asks next, his eyes scanning your body for signs of injury. His gaze lingers on your neck, and when he notices it remains unblemished, he releases a breath, and his shoulders relax slightly.

“I’m fine.” It feels like you cheated on Dean, and it makes you feel so sick you want to cry.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, you could’ve called. Let us know you were fine. It would’ve stopped Sam and me from worrying about you every second of the day. For all we knew, you were lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“My phone’s GPS was still…” you pause and sigh, knowing you don’t need to explain anything to him. “Look, can we not do this, please?” You plead. It’s been a rough few days, and you just want to shower and sleep.

You stop next to him, waiting for him to let you pass and frown when he rears back with a snarl. 

“Go shower, Omega. The stench of sex and Alpha makes me want to vomit,” Dean growls and walks away, leaving you standing at the entrance to the library, no longer able to keep the tears in.

The decision to leave is one of the hardest you’ve ever had to make. The bunker is your home, too. Still, you know you’re no longer welcome. Dean doesn’t want you, and you’ve hurt each other beyond repair. You could’ve tried to sort this mess out. You could’ve done that rather than look for a heat buddy, but had you not gone out, you’d have fallen straight back into bad habits and Dean’s bed. You had to break ties with him completely, and the only way to do that was to sleep with someone else, even if it broke both your hearts in the process.

Between the anxiety from you and Dean’s argument after the witch hunt and your heat, you’ve barely eaten for the past week. Before you leave for good, you head to the kitchen to grab something quickly, knowing it’s late enough that both Winchesters will be in their bedrooms, and you can eat and leave undetected.

“Sneaking out on us, huh? That’s mature,” Dean scoffs, and you jump, startled by his voice coming from somewhere in the dark kitchen.

“Any particular reason you’re sitting in the pitch black, Dean?” you ask, your hackles raised and ready to flee if needed.

“Answer my question first, then maybe I’ll answer yours.”

“Come on, Dean. We both know it’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” you reason.

“But this is your home,” Dean says, and where before you only heard contempt, you can now detect hurt.

“Not anymore.” You turn to leave, deciding to just forget about food so you can get the hell out of here.

“Please don’t walk away from me, Omega.”

“I told you I’m not your Omega, Dean. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.”

“Y/N, please, sweetheart,” he begs, and you turn to face him, your anger rising.

“No, Dean. I can’t do this with you anymore. We can’t keep doing this same dance over and over again. I want more. I need—” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow down the emotion that wants to spill from you. “I need to be claimed. I need to have pups. It’s in my biology, Dean, and I can’t change that. And I can’t change the fact that if I don’t settle down soon, I’ll go feral and die.”

“And you’re gonna do that with the asshat from the bar?” Dean spits back at you.

“No! I want to do it with you, but you don’t want me!” The tears spring from your eyes, and once again, you will Chuck, or whatever fucking angel is standing in his stead, to give you the strength you need to finally leave. To break this toxic bond that’s been forged under false pretences for years.

“Y/N, I do want you. I just can’t give you what you need,” Dean pleads.

“You can,” you nod with a tearful smile. “Because even if it wasn’t in the traditional way, you gave me what I needed for years. You just don’t want to.”

“No, Omega, please.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

DEAN’S POV

Y/N has been gone for two months, and there hasn’t been a peep from her. If Sam has heard anything, he’s kept it quiet, and Dean hasn’t asked. She’s turned off the GPS on her phone and removed the tracker from her car, and anyone he’s asked in their network either hasn’t seen or heard from her or has just told him she’s fine.

He misses her laugh and her smile. He misses her comforting scent that would linger around the bunker. He misses her soft, warm body sliding into bed next to him when she’d had a nightmare or wanted to cuddle in those first few hours of her heat before her need for him changed to something more carnal.

Yet, never once did he reach out to her. She’d made it pretty clear they were done, and he’s accepted that. What he did to her was unforgivable. Still, he’s hurting, too and feels betrayed by what she did. He may not have the right, but it’s how he feels, and try as he might, he can’t change it.

As the telltale signs of his next rut make themselves known, Dean knows this will be the hardest challenge he’s faced since Y/N left, but if she could so easily toss him aside and find someone else to mate with, so could he.

Standing at the bar, Dean preens under the attention of several omegas surrounding him. It’s been a long time since he’s had so many women fawn over him, and he guesses that being with Y/N has kept them at bay all these years.

Looking towards the other end of the bar, he does a double-take. The woman has similar features to Y/N: same eye colour, same shaped face, and from what he can see, a similar figure. It’s not her, but Dean is on his feet and making his way over to her before he can think twice about it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean gives the woman his most charming smile and feels his confidence soar as she giggles and looks down briefly before raising her eyes and batting her lashes at him. “The name’s Dean.”

“Carly,” she responds shyly, and Dean smirks.

“Pretty name. It suits you, Omega. Can I buy you a drink?” he drawls, using his alpha tone.

“Sure, Alpha,” she smiles sweetly, batting her eyes at him once more, and Dean knows he’s found a rut partner for the next few days.

“So, what’s your poison?” Dean asks, grabbing the bartender’s attention.

“Appletini,” Carly says, and Dean fights a scoff at the girly concoction. Y/N would’ve ordered a whiskey or an Old Fashioned if the mood struck her, none of this fruity shit that makes you question whether there’s even any alcohol in it.

“Whiskey, neat, and an appletini for the lady,” Dean says to the bartender.

“So, Dean, what’s a handsome alpha like you doing in a place like this?” Carly asks.

Glancing at her kind eyes that remind him so much of Y/N’s, he finds himself spilling everything to her. He’s not sure why he finds it easier to talk to a stranger than his own brother or even Cas, but he does.

“Look,” Dean says after an hour of talking and a few more whiskeys. “I came here intending to find an omega to ride out my rut with, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he confesses. “I’m not even sure I could… physically… uh, you know.” he chuckles.

“I think that’s a wise decision, Dean,” Carly smiles kindly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be mating with someone new. You haven’t fully accepted that your mate left you, and it could be dangerous for both of us if we leave here together.”

“I wouldn’t say she’s my mate. I never claimed her, so…” Dean shrugs, feeling a little bad for leading her on.

“Doesn’t matter, Dean. You bonded with her intimately, and I’m guessing you stayed faithful and only had her the entire time, right?”

“I only ever wanted her,” Dean nods and swallows another whiskey.

“So, you were together like a beta couple would be, right? Like dating but not married?” Carly replies with a knowing smile, and Dean has to admit he’s never looked at his relationship with Y/N in that way before.

“I suppose we were,” he responds with a nod to the bartender for another drink.

“Do you know where she is? Can you go to her?” Carly asks.

“No,” Dean sighs. “We have some mutual friends, but they are very quiet about her whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I hurt her. A lot. And I wish I’d handled things differently.”

“You’ll get there, Dean,” she smiles. “And if you don’t, try begging your friends to tell you where she is and grovel until she forgives you!” Carly chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It could be an easy fix if you can overcome your fears. It’s clear you love her, and if you can give into those feelings, you’ll work it out.”

Carly hops off the barstool and pulls her purse strap over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope you find your girl and make things right,” she cups his cheek and winks at him before walking away and leaving him alone.

Downing the whiskey in one, Dean throws some bills on the bar and heads to the Impala. If he’s going to see himself through his rut, he’d need a lot of provisions.

It took six days, three bottles of lube, and the help of various knotting toys for Dean to come through the other side of his rut. He can’t remember the last time one had been so brutal or unforgiving. However, now he’s out and can start taking the suppressants he got from the drugstore, so he doesn’t need to go through one again.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam asks, seeing Dean at the hob, frying bacon and eggs.

“Still feeling rough, but some food and fresh air should do me good. Please tell me you found a hunt while I was out.”

“Yeah, looks like there’s a ghoul loose in Stillwater, Oklahoma.”

“Alright, then. We’ll get everything together and leave in a couple of hours.”

“Dean, are you sure you’re up for this? You still look a little… off.”

“I’m fine, Sammy. Just ready to get out of here. Been cooped up too long.”

For the next few months, that’s what they do; move from small town to small town, saving people and hunting things, and Dean? Well, he’s just peachy.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Dean always knew the suppressants would take some getting used to. They’re the drug store variety and weren’t for long-term use. Still, the nausea and headaches are getting worse and are now accompanied by bouts of fever and a loss of appetite.

He knows his age probably isn’t helping, and the fact he’s been rejected by his mate in a roundabout way, so rejection sickness has been on his mind the past few days as his symptoms got worse.

Sam’s said he’s easier to anger than usual too, and Dean’s starting to feel constantly on edge now. He can only hope whatever this is will end soon because this fucking sucks.

Swallowing down another pill, Dean throws the pill bottle into his duffle so that he and Sam can get home, put this vampire hunt behind them, and take some time off.

Although sceptical at first, he’s now grateful he’d agreed to take a break from hunting for a couple of weeks to recoup and relax. They hadn’t stopped hunting in close to twelve weeks, and he feels awful. A little time off might be just what he needs.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asks, frowning when he notices the pill bottle at the top of his brother’s bag. The younger Winchester walks over and picks it up, huffing loudly. “This is what you’ve been taking? Over the counter suppressants?”

“Yeah, so?” Dean replies.

“Dean, these aren’t for long-term use. They’re supposed to only delay a rut for a couple of weeks, not for taking every day. Why didn’t you go to a doctor and get the right thing?”

“Oh, because we have that luxury, Sammy!” Dean snaps. “‘Do you have insurance? No. What’s your address? An underground fortress in the middle of fucking nowhere.’ Seriously, you don’t see anything wrong with that? And they say you’re the smart one!” Dean scoffs and shakes his head.

“We would’ve found a way, Dean. We always do. These are probably doing more harm than good. I think it’s why you’re feeling off, and it’s only going to get worse.”

“It can’t get any worse, Sammy! Y/N left me. Nothing will ever be worse than that!” Dean yells as he grabs his bag and stalks out of the motel room, and slams the door.

Dean is agitated. So much so that even he can’t deny it. And the more he tries not to be, the worse he gets. He knows it’s annoying Sam—it’s annoying him, too—but it’s not something he has any control over. Everything is going haywire; his skin itches, sweat drips down his back, and he just wants to pick fights. That’s why he had a go at the idiot at the gas station and the douchebag from the diner. He blames Sam for that one. He wanted to keep driving, but Sammy just had to stretch his freakishly long fucking legs now, didn’t he?

When Sam finally rejoins him in the car, Dean tries to avoid his baby brother’s puppy eyes. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he should’ve found a way to get the real thing, but the fear of a doctor telling him he’s a lost cause, that because his mate left him would mean that suppressants can’t fix him stopped him. Besides, it can’t take the ache of Y/N’s departure away. It doesn’t change the fact that as an alpha, it was his duty to claim her.

“What am I in for, Sammy?” Dean finally asks, breaking his silence on his suppressant use. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he needs to keep what’s left of his pack safe. If this ends the way he dreads, he needs to put a plan in place.

“You’ll go into a rut that can only be satisfied by uhm… your mate,” Sam says, avoiding her name so it doesn't set the older alpha off again. “And because she’s not here, you’ll go feral,” Sam sighs.

“And when I go feral, I’ll be dangerous to any omega who isn’t Y/N,” Dean finishes what Sam doesn’t say.

“I think it’s already started. I can smell your rut pheromones, but they’re… off.” Sam said.

“Listen to me, Sammy. I’m going to the safe house in Montana. I’ll let nature take its course. You will leave me there and take the Impala so I can’t get out.” Dean begins, but Sam’s quick to intervene.

“Dean, no. I can track down Y/N. When she hears what’s happening, she’ll—”

“Laugh and tell you to tell me to go fuck myself! I made my bed, Sammy. I gotta lie in it.”

“You’re signing your own death warrant!”

“Then so be it!” Dean roars, but Sam won’t back down.

“I can’t let you do that when someone can help you!”

“She won’t come because she doesn’t want me, Sam!” Dean yells. “How many times do I have to say it? She left me because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. For all we know, another alpha has already claimed her.”

“I have to try, Dean! I can’t just let you die!” Sam is trying to stay calm, not wanting to upset his brother more.

“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s what I deserve.”

“It’s not, and you know it. I’ll lock you in that cabin and take the car with me to keep you safe, but I will find Y/N.”

“Fine. I can’t stop you,” Dean relents. “But when she tells you she’s done with me, you will leave me there, and whatever happens, happens. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sam agrees reluctantly.

Next Chapter>>

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