#until she finally closes in with the finishing blow of his name
Text
Bonus Old Chem Prompt
For Nicole.
1. “So what’s your area of study?” he said. “I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask.”
They were walking to their cars, so late that it could properly be called early. The storm cells had finished passing through by midnight, and the air was as humid and thick as hot soup. She nudged him companionably with her shoulder.
They had talked all night, but the storm and the dark and the mood had leant the night an air of confidence, and they’d talked about big-picture stuff; hopes, fears, childhood traumas, until Scully began to yawn and the weather outside had quieted. All the stuff you talk about once you get past the getting-to-know-you phase had been hashed out and argued. All that was left were the details.
“I study the chemical processes of negligible and negative senescence,” she said.
His mental rolodex whirled until the right catalog card came up. He looked down at her in wonder.
“Immortality?” he said, unable to keep the intrigue out of his voice.
“Close enough.”
“That’s wild.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” she said impishly. Then, “This is me.”
She stopped in front of a silver Volkswagen Passat, and Mulder pivoted until he was standing in front of her.
“I enjoyed my time in the dark with you,” he said, his voice a little low.
“Let’s do it again,” she said, and then lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed her lips into his, lingering there.
When she finally pulled away, he was a little lightheaded and dazed.
“I’d like that,” he finally managed to say.
2. “I used to be married,” she said, her nose pressed into the bare skin of his bicep.
They had kicked off all but the sheet and she was still coming down from the high of a shared climax, her leg still thrown over both of his.
Mulder’s first thought was widow, because this was not a woman you lost if you could help it.
He was trying to figure out how to ask when she went on.
“He lives in Seattle now.”
It was a Sunday, and sheaves of the newspaper they’d been passing back and forth were strewn half on the bed and half on the floor. The last wisps of steam were wafting up from cups of coffee on either side of the bed and an uneaten croissant sat on a plate under a wedge of sunlight.
“What’s his name?” Mulder asked her quietly. He’s not sure why that was his first question, but it was.
“Ethan,” she said.
She knew all about Diana, their almost-wedding, her affairs and blow-ups and his disastrous attempts to make excuses for her. His years of swearing off women.
“Is it bad that I didn’t tell you?”
He reached out with the arm she was pressed to and pulled her until her head was resting on his chest.
“We’ve only been dating a month,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
At this, they both chuckled. They’d shared more than most couples who’d been together five times as long.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We wanted the same things,” she said. “In the bedroom.” And before he could ask if she meant to say the word different, she finished with: “Namely, men.”
Mulder clenched his teeth. “Ouch,” he said.
She shrugged a shoulder into his armpit. “We’re still friends.”
Mulder had to tilt his head back to look down at her.
“I’m friends with his husband Bruce, too.”
3. She slunk into the back of the lecture hall fifteen minutes before class was up and lowered herself into an empty chair on the upper right.
“So we’ve gone over our long list of elements of psychopathology,” he went on with his lecture. “Let’s touch on some of the basic causes before we break for the day. Broad strokes stuff, here. Anyone want to offer something up?”
A girl in front with perfect posture raised her hand.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Genetics?” she asked.
“Yep, genetics.” He wrote this on the whiteboard.
An older looking student in the middle offered up: “Are there social causes?”
“Sure are,” Mulder said, and wrote social on the board as well.
“Anyone else? I’ll start calling on people, I’m not as shy as you,” he went on. A few people chuckled.
He pointed at one of the laughers. “What have you got?”
“Um…psychological?” the kid said.
A couple more people chuckled at this answer, and Mulder wrote it on the board.
“This is a 101 level lecture, guys, don’t laugh at Jeremy. It’s okay to use the name of the class in the class. There are plenty of psychological causes of psychopathology. It’s in the title.”
To his left, his TA yawned and looked at his watch. Mulder flitted his eyes up to Scully, who seemed to be enjoying watching him. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the class and just wanted to be with her.
“Last one and you guys can get out of here. Anybody?”
A few people looked around the room to see if anyone was going to answer.
“Nobody?” he called out.
From the back of the small auditorium, he heard a familiar, welcome voice.
“Biology!” Scully called out.
Mulder couldn’t help but smile. “A personal favorite,” he said, and turned to write it on the whiteboard.
Kids were already folding their laptops and shoving notebooks in backpacks.
“Okay, yes, I said I’d let you go.” The volume of shuffling and movement went up and he had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over it. “Assigned reading is in the syllabus. I won’t be available for office hours at the normal times next week, so reach out to Gary,” at this he pointed at his TA, though most of the students were already on their way out the lecture hall, “to set something up. Have a good long weekend!”
He moved behind the podium to grab his phone and his own laptop, and when he looked up, Scully was on her way down the steps, fighting the current of retreating students.
“Hey,” he said as she approached, and he swung his bag over his shoulder and, with a glance up to see if anyone was paying attention (they weren’t), leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. He fell into step with her, heading for the rarely used exit at the bottom of the lecture hall.
“Hey,” she said, smiling up at him. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” he replied, reaching forward to hold open the door so that she could walk through.
“How was your trip?”
“Good,” he said. “Uneventful.”
“You’re back for a bit now, right?” she said. “Before your next thingy?” She looked a little anxious when she asked. She must have something on her mind.
“The technical term,” he said, as they stepped into the flow of student traffic in the hallway that led to the front of the building. “About that. I actually had a question for you.”
“Oh?” she said.
“You first,” he said, pulling to a stop in the foyer of the building. “You look like you had something else you wanted to ask?”
She averted her gaze from his, which was unusual. “My parents invited us over for dinner,” she said. “I told them about you. And they want to meet you. If that’s okay.”
Mulder rocked back a little on his heels. Diana’s folks had died before they got together and he hadn’t had any girlfriends before her serious enough for parental vetting. The last time he’d met a woman’s parents, he was standing in Missy Sander’s living room pinning a homecoming corsage on her velvet dress while her mother hovered nearby.
Nevertheless, Scully was important to him, and her parents were important to her.
“I’d love to,” he said, smiling, and noted the relieved slump of her shoulders.
“Great,” she breathed. “I told them it might not be until after the holidays. We’ll both have midterms to grade and then things usually get crazy.”
“Whenever you want,” Mulder said gamely. “I’ll bring a nice bottle of wine and be on my best behavior.”
She smiled up at him warmly.
“You said you had a question for me?”
“I did,” he said, grabbing her coat from her hands and holding it up so that she could shrug into it. He put on his directly after, and then held open the door for her to exit into the cold, brisk day.
“So I’m the faculty advisor to the ski club,” he went on.
She gave him a look. “You never told me this.”
“It’s not normally very interesting. Anyway, the club is heading to a resort up north over the long weekend, and the school will pay for my lift tickets. Any chance you want to join me?”
“You ski?” she asked. Her incredulity was amusing.
“It’s literally the club’s only requisite for an advisor,” he admitted. “Do you?”
“Not once in my whole life. I’m from San Diego, Mulder.”
“California has mountains.”
“And I’ve never been on them. But a resort sounds like it might be nice…Are there fireplaces? Hot tubs?”
“More than you can count,” he answered, picturing her in a bikini, picturing her reading a book while lounging on a bearskin rug.
“Then I’d love to join you,” she smiled at him, the vapor of her breath dissipating in front of her.
4. The resort was sprawling, the main lodge done up in the Bavarian style, which was only a little off putting as they were in the only high country in the Midwest. Fairly large hills rose up above the roof of the lodge, covered in snow and dotted with skiers and snowboarders. Several chairlifts served the hills (they could not accurately be called ‘mountains’), spaced at even intervals amongst the small range.
“I have to admit it’s charming,” Scully said, when they walked in, most of the people around them clomping around in hard ski boots.
The interior decor was dated. Old wooden skis were crossed on the wall over the front desk, and vintage ski posters decorated the walls, and all, Scully assumed, had been up since they were new. The staff was friendly, though, and when they walked into their room, she was doubly impressed.
“Mulder,” she said, nearly speechless.
He closed the door behind her, smiling. He had splurged and sprung for the nicest suite they had (complete with updated decor) – the only one with both a fireplace and its own hot tub, which was on a large balcony that overlooked the ski hills.
“Does the university know they’re paying for this?” she asked.
“I get a small lodging stipend,” he explained. “I may have chipped in a little of my own money.”
“A little?” she said, moving into the room and picking up a bottle of champagne that was waiting on ice for them along with a couple of local chocolates and a dozen red roses.
“The stipend probably covers the champagne and two of the roses,” he said, sidling up to her and sliding a hand across her belly.
She turned in his arms until she was facing him.
“Then let’s get your money’s worth,” she purred.
5. It was the first full day of the trip, and the students of the club had invited them to join them in the bar in the basement of the lodge. It had equally dated decor, but a small stage in the corner with a decent band who was playing 90’s hits at a reasonable volume.
The club–made up of a dozen kids–more guys than girls–was on their fifth pitcher of beer and showing no signs of slowing down. Mulder and Scully had already had a couple cups each, but were settling in, watching the shenanigans with benevolent bemusement. The table was littered with empty cups and pitchers, along with a scattered detritus of ski gear; helmets with mirrored goggles, gloves, a few errant neckwarmers.
Patrick Fitzpatrick, a senior, and the president of the Ski Club held up his beer to Mulder while nodding at Scully, who sat demurely next to him in a coat that was very obviously not ready to hit the slopes.
“So Dr. Mulder,” he called out past the four people sitting in between them. “How long have you and Dr. Scully been going out?”
All other conversation at the table stopped in a decidedly record-scratch-like moment. All eyes shifted to them.
Fitzpatrick had taken a few of Mulder’s classes–enough to think he was cool enough to ask to be the club’s advisor–though Mulder wasn’t sure his major required anything but the most remedial science credits. Scully’s job was research based, and the few classes she taught were mostly 400 and graduate level. Only one of the kids in the club had ever had her as a professor. Scully had barely left their suite–he’d wondered how they even knew she was on the trip when they’d asked Mulder if both of them wanted to come and hang out.
Mulder cleared his throat and looked to Scully, asking silent permission. She snorted a small laugh and took a slug of beer.
“A few months,” he answered, looking around the table.
Molly, the one girl who’d taken classes from Scully, looked away with an abashed smile.
“And how long do you think you might continue dating?” Fitzpatrick burped.
Mulder nearly laughed out loud. The kid was a putz, came from Chicago money, but he had a mien that could charm the socks off a horse with white feet.
“At least as long as it’ll take you to graduate, Fitzpatrick,” Mulder answered. “How many credits shy are you? You know you have to actually pass a class for them to count.”
The table erupted in laughter, everyone beginning to take shots at Fitzpatrick, who took on the ribbing with gracious humor. Next to him, Scully pulled out her phone which was buzzing, took a look at the display and stood.
“I have to take this,” she whispered in his ear, slipping away while the table was still abuzz with jubilant teasing.
She came back about ten minutes later, her face long and ashen. She held her phone in her hand limply.
“Scully?” he said, half standing from his seat when he saw her.
The few people sitting near Mulder noticed and the table quieted down quickly.
“It’s my Dad,” she said, swallowing thickly.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head, shocky. “He’s dead.”
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mu Nihuang: 你认识林殊吗？// Do you know Lin Shu?
Mei Changsu: ……认识。// ...yes.
Mu Nihuang: 他是真的战死了？// Did he really die in battle?
Mei Changsu: 是。// Yes.
Mu Nihuang: 战死的哪里？// Where did he die?
Mei Changsu: 梅岭。// Meiling.
Mu Nihuang: 尸骨葬于何处？// Where was he laid to rest?
Mei Changsu: 七万英魂，天地为墓。// For seventy thousand valiant souls, the earth and sky are their grave.
Mu Nihuang: 他的尸骨都没人收？一块遗骸也没有找到吗？// No one retrieved his body? Or any remains at all?
Mei Changsu: 战事惨烈，堆尸如山。又有谁能认得谁是林殊呢？// In such a fierce and terrible battle, with bodies piled high as a mountain, who could recognise which was Lin Shu?
when you’re alive but you’re a ghost but the people who knew you look at you like you’re still alive but you’re a ghost: the Mei Changsu Experience™
#neuxue watches lyb#this fucking scene#the verbal sparring and the way she circles him with these little like... testing strikes that he keeps parrying#until she finally closes in with the finishing blow of his name#(who could recognise which was lin shu? the one who stands before him now)#it's so good. but it's also just. devastating. because i don't think mei changsu is lying here.#lin shu died at meiling unburied and now his ghost walks the world with open eyes fixed only on the horizon (where no beacon fires yet burn
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
COMPETITION — gojo satoru
satoru tries to beat the bad cook allegations and win his girls back
girl dad satoru, established relationship — you’re married & have a daughter (oc), her name is sora, f! reader, reader is referred to as “mama”, mentions of food, this is a silly little thing, not proofread, wc: 1.2k
satoru can be a lot of things — the strongest sorcerer, the most loving and devoted husband, the world’s greatest dad, society’s biggest menace, and according to some “the owner of the most annoying heh” — but there’s one thing he most definitely isn’t. a good cook.
but ever since you had a family brunch gathering at nanami’s place where the latter had singlehandedly prepared a feast, without letting his wife lift a single finger even when it came to setting the table, satoru took it upon himself to prove that he can be as good of a cook as nanami, or even better.
the way you and your five-year-old daughter, sora, looked as if you’ve just tasted heaven while savoring each bite was a blow below the belt for satoru, while the finishing one was you complimenting nanami and telling his wife how she is the luckiest woman alive to have a husband who’s so skilled and willing in the kitchen because satoru can’t even boil water — to which sora nodded in agreement, “papa really sucks in the kitchen.”
it’s been two weeks ever since and you regret ever making that snarky remark about satoru’s incompetence because you’ve been banned from the kitchen all along, not even allowed to pour yourself a glass of water — all you have to do is ask and your husband will do it for you while you sit back and watch as the state of your kitchen worsens with each passing day.
he would occasionally have sora keep him company and help him prep the ingredients, sometimes even take the first bite if the end product looks edible, but for you the kitchen was completely off limits, he’s got a point to prove — that he is the best husband and you should’ve never said those flattering words about his friend in the first place because he can’t stand it when you acknowledge in any way any other man that isn’t him.
satoru’s determination is strong. he has no intention of letting this matter go, not until he sees that same expression on you and your daughter’s face — this is his life goal right now, he cannot have his two most important girls swayed by another man’s cooking, not even if that man is nanami (and especially because it’s him).
you might be running out of usable plates and pans, as they’re either broken or burnt, but satoru is definitely making progress. all the cooking videos he’s watched and the tips he’s gotten from talking to mothers on online forums are finally paying off because today, for the first time ever, he didn’t burn the pancakes for breakfast.
“papa”, sora looks with disapproving eyes at her dad, her cheeks squished between her tiny palms as she’s leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter.
“yes, my life”, satoru crouches down to her level. even though she’s standing on the toddler step stool her head can barely reach his hips. but whenever satoru talks to her, he always, without fail, either squats down or leans forward or holds her in his arms — because in those moments it’s just him and his little princess against the world, on equal footing always so he can hear her better and never miss a single expression she makes. “what’s with that look, hm?”, he nuzzles his flour covered nose against hers, the action itself causing some of the white particles to smudge on hers too.
“the pancakes look like pancakes this time but mama will not like this mess you made, again” — the sink is filled to the brim, there’s flour and baking powder on every single surface — counter, table, chairs, floor, the butter has started melting because satoru placed it too close to the stove after using some of it, there’s eggshells on the floor — any clean freak’s biggest nightmare.
“the mess i made?”, he gasps, “aren’t you an accomplice in this, little miss?”
“no”, she flatly denies, “i only watched you and broke the eggs”
“on the floor, that is”
“it’s because you said pick three eggs while i can only carry two, look—”, she stretches her tiny hands forward, palms facing up, to prove her point, “i have only two hands and they’re not big like yours, how am i supposed to hold the third one?”
satoru chuckles at her genuinely puzzled face, “you’re right, my life”, he replies through a soft smile after taking her hands into his and peppering kisses on the inside of each, “papa didn’t consider this”
“it’s okay, papa”, sora rests her forehead against her dad’s, “i am a big girl now, i will help you clean after breakfast”
“but you’ll always be my little girl no matter how old you get”, satoru whispers softly, lifting her up with just one arm so his free hand can gently caress the back of her head as she comfortably nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, “which is why papa will take care of it”
“but first”, he sits her on the countertop and cuts a small piece of the pancake for her to taste. “say aah”, he holds the fork to her mouth, eagerly observing every gesture on her face as she takes the bite and starts chewing. it’s definitely not the look she made while eating nanami’s cooking but she doesn’t seem to hate it either.
“papa.”
“yes, my life?”, satoru looks at her expectantly.
“can i be honest with you?”
“yes, of course you can”
“uncle nanamin does it better”, she admits to which satoru instantly deflates, “but—”
“but?”, a tiny spark of hope makes it back to his sulking eyes.
“i wouldn’t trade your pancakes for the world”
“YESSS”, satoru triumphantly pumps his fist in the air and spins around beaming with joy, “got one of my girls back on my team — now let’s hear your mother’s verdict… but hold on”, his face painted in concern again.
“hmm?”, sora questions the sudden change in his demeanor.
“sora.”, satoru speaks in a rather serious voice.
“papa?”
“you’re not saying this just because i’m your papa, right?”
“well, it’s partly because of it actually”, sora pauses for a second, trying to pick the right words before continuing, “but it’s because you put so much love and effort to make me and mama happy that it makes anything you do my favorite thing in the world, and i wouldn’t trade it for anything, papa”
“i haven’t tasted the pancakes yet but i must agree with sora on this”, your voice reaches them from behind as you stand leaning on the doorframe. you came following the sweet and warm aroma wafting through the air but found yourself accidentally eavesdropping on their little heart-to-heart talk. “you put your heart and soul for us always — aren’t we the luckiest girls in the world?”, you wink at sora and she nods.
satoru sighs in relief, “if i can’t give you the best of everything that means i am a failure both as a husband and as a father. because you two are my biggest blessing and i only live to make you happy. also — you’re still not allowed in the kitchen, so just stay there and wait for the pancakes.”
#ઈઉ — ai writes#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#[ ♡ ] — satoru
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Golden Pt. 2 - Weasley Twins x Reader
Thank you for all the love on part one. I genuinely love this AU and hope you all do too. <3
Other Parts: Part One
Your eyes flickered between the two Weasley boys, refusing to accept that you could have two soulmates - even though they were looking you straight in the face. "This is a joke, right?" you finally ask.
"I don't think anyone could pull off a joke like this," Fred spoke, gently placing his palm back to the matching spot on your cheekbone.
"Even us," George laughed. "And why would we? No one dreams of half a soulmate." You don't know why, but your heart aches at his words.
"I didn't dream of having you as my soulmate, either," you retort, pulling away from both Weasleys.
"Is that so, sweetheart?" He takes a step closer, smirking. "Because the rouge of your cheeks says otherwise."
"Back off her, George," Fred commands, pulling the two of you apart. "We have to get out of here now or Umbridge will kill us. Like actually kill us."
"Alright, soulmate. You coming with us or not?" George asks.
"Like she's going to go anywhere with us now, George," Fred scoffs. "You're a total-"
"I'm in," you say, cutting him off.
Fred pulled you out of the broom closet before you could change your mind. He held onto your hand as the three of you ran through the halls, avoiding the blasts of light above you. Suddenly, curses mixed into the light of the fireworks. You risked a quick look back and saw Umbridge and the rest of her cult following you. "Shit!" you yelled, ducking from a bright red ray of light.
"Accio!" both twins yelled, and after a moment a broom hit each of their hands. They mounted the brooms, Fred pulling you right behind him. You clutch him closely while shooting a string of spells behind you at Umbridge. With a final toss of fireworks, you're gone - Hogwarts far behind.
It was no time before you landed down in Diagon Alley. "What are we doing here?" you ask. The town was a graveyard - each shop having been closed for what seemed to be months.
"Alohamora," George whispered, cracking open a door to a building near the end of the lot. "You are looking at the start of our joke shop - name still pending."
"And our home for the next month. If we told our mum we were leaving Hogwarts she would drag us straight back. So we have to wait her out here," Fred adds.
After spelling on the lights, George leads you in. The place was nowhere near finished, but you could see the bones of the operation. Half-finished products were strewn over the ground, haphazard notes that only they could read near each one. "This is really cool," you smile.
"I would advise you not to touch anything. There's a method to our madness and I really don't want you to accidentally blow yourself up," George says.
You nod. "No touching. Got it."
"Come on, bedroom's this way," Fred leads. You wish you could stop the heat from rising to your face, but George sees it immediately, smirking to himself. You ignore him, following Fred closely up the stairs.
"We didn't really prepare for guests," he admits, rubbing the nape of his neck. You enter the bedroom to find two beds on either side of the wall, an simple dresser by each one. And that was it. Not even a couch. The room was just sad. You laughed, "I can tell. If you can spare a pillow I'll sleep in the corner. It'll be cozy."
"You are not sleeping on the floor," both twins immediately protested. "No way we're letting any guest sleep on the ground, let alone our soulmate," George scoffs.
"You'll have my bed tonight. We'll figure something else out by tomorrow," Fred adds.
You protested, of course, but the two fought back harder. You finally just gave in, heading towards the bed. You finally take off your cloak, aching to get out of your whole uniform, but knowing you would have to wait until tomorrow to get anything remotely comfortable to wear.
Fred immediately picks up on your discomfort. "You can wear these tonight," he says, pulling a sweater out of his dresser, then a pair of joggers. You retreat to the bathroom to pull on the clothes, and as you do you notice the golden F stitched into the sweater. You smile as the rub the end of the sleeve between your fingers.
The twins had changed out of their robes by the time you returned. George had already gone to bed, and Fred was waiting for you on his. You sat down beside him, finally taking a moment to rest after the insanity of the day. "Thank you for this," you said, nodding down to your sweater. "And for bringing me with you, and letting me sleep on your bed, and for not meeting me in the way I always feared you would."
Fred brings his hand to your face, holding you from your jaw to your ear, just as he had when you fell. "I don't think my hands could ever hurt you." He spoke the words quietly, but they filled your entire head. When you looked at him, you felt dizzy. It was all too much - his kindness, his brother's apprehension, the fact that they were both your soulmates. Was that even possible? In all your years you'd never heard of a person having two soulmates, let alone at the same time. But there they were. There he was, staring down at you with the kindest eyes you'd ever seen on a man.
"Can I kiss you?" Fred asked. His cheeks rouged as he asked, and yours followed. You couldn't speak, so you just nodded. And then the hand that had settled onto your skin, like it belonged there, pulled you into him. His lips were soft against yours, moving as slowly as a person possibly could. Still, his touch was electric and the shockwaves surged through you.
Your heart lurched in it's chest when he pulled away from you. "Goodnight," he smiled, pushing himself off of his bed.
You quickly grabbed his hand, halting him. "Stay."
Fortunately, he didn't require much convincing. He let you become comfortable before sliding into bed behind you, wrapping one hand around your waist.
"Merlin," George huffed, causing both of you to jump. "The two of you cannot fit comfortably on that bed. With a quick flick of his hand, his bed pushed against his brothers, the sheets melding together. You yelped as strong hands pulled you up from the outside of the bed and plopped you back down right in the middle. "I will not be cuddled by Fred in my sleep again. I trust you to keep your distance."
"With all due respect, Georgie. You are the last person I would want to cuddle in this room," Fred shot back, wrapping a protective arm around you.
"I would sure hope so," he rolled his eyes, finally lowering himself into bed beside you. He didn't bother to face the other direction, instead studying your face. Against your will, you blushed once more - which only caused him to smirk. "Sweet dreams, princess," he teased.
"Sweet dreams, Georgie," you smiled back, finally causing his cheeks to burn.
***
Author's Note: I'm thinking about making this a series. Let me know what you all think. And if I do make it a series - would y'all want smut or no?
Next in the series: Part Three, Part Four, Part Five
#fred weasley x reader#george weasley x reader#weasley twins x reader#fred weasley x reader x george weasley#why choose#soulmates au#harrypotter imagine#george weasley imagine#harry potter imagine#fred weasley imagine
886 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2
Previous Part, Next Part
Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.
Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic
Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇
Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006
“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”
Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.
“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”
He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.
But he made a mistake.
The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.
Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.
No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.
But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and
“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”
Fuck, he was getting soft.
Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.
That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.
Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.
His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.
He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.
Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.
Oh God, he was going to blow.
Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.
Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.
First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006
Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.
He had to know more.
Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.
All the better for him to keep observing you.
As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.
He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.
But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.
He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.
He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.
“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.
You were American. How adorable.
“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”
You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.
Must have been Farleigh’s idea.
Anyway, back to you.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.
Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.
Except that he was.
He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.
Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.
It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.
My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋
Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.
By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.
“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”
“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”
Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”
Felix just shrugged.
“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”
Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.
“Merry Christmas, indeed.”
A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.
“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”
“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”
“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”
Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.
“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”
Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.
Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.
Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.
Manchester, December 2006
You were having the time of your life.
Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”
But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.
Oxford Dining Hall December 2006
You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.
“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.
Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.
“What?” you croaked out.
“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”
“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”
“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”
You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.
You hated feeling small.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”
He rolled his eyes at your concern.
“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”
You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.
His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.
When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.
“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”
“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”
Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.
“Look, are you coming or not?”
You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.
“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”
A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”
“Don’t push it.”
You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.
His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.
“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”
When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.
“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”
“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”
“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”
“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”
Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.
“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”
You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”
“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.
“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”
Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.
“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”
“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”
“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”
“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”
Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.
“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”
“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”
You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.
“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”
“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”
Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.
“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”
“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.
Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.
The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.
You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.
When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.
You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.
But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.
Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.
At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.
Well – everyone except one.
Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.
Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.
Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.
“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”
You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.
“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”
If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.
Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006
In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.
He had to get out of here.
In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.
Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss
Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!
#saltburn x reader#saltburn#saltburn crack#saltburn au#michael gavey x reader#felix catton x reader#farleigh catton#farleigh start#venetia catton#oliver quick#michael gavey#saltburn 2023#saltburn movie
465 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii! (This is my first time requesting so sorry if I did it wrong. )
A threesome dom!character with chuuya and dazai prompts 1 and 4 with a afab!reader that was purposely trying to piss them off in public (like sitting away from them in a restaurant, running off into a crowd without them, giving them the cold shoulder, etc) so once they get home they decide to put her in her place.
♡ Two in one ♡ (Chuuya Nakahara & Dazai Osamu)
1. "You wanted this, didn't you?"
4. "What happened to your bratty attitude, huh?"
Tags. Chuuya N. / afab! Reader / Dazai O., she/they for Reader, they're in a poly relationship, jealousy?, jealous sex maybe?, orgasm denial (once), does this count as dirty talk?, degrading and praising, rough sex, threesome, overstimulation, pet names ("baby, sweetheart" from both, "doll" from Chuuya, "pretty" from Dazai), teasing, fingering, creampie, blow jobs, might contain grammar errors, rushed, probably doesn't make sense, etc.
Notes. nghhh.. I wanna take them both so baddd (in the same hole too)
It all started with a day out planned by them, just to spend time with you because none of you was busy that day. Chuuya wanted to take you somewhere to eat, Dazai wanted to just walk around the city. In the end, they settled doing both, going somewhere to eat and then enjoying the city in the evening. At the restaurant, you guys had a great time, that was until you met an old friend. They invited you to their table and you went over, Dazai and Chuuya didn't notice at first because of some stupid shit they argued over, but when they finished they saw you talking to your friend.
Even when you guys left the restaurant, you still didn't pay attention to them. I mean, they planned all of this for you but now you didn't even pay attention to them! Was this to rile them up or what? Because you didn't even say thank you for the food. It literally felt like they interrupted you right now, but luck has it that your friend had to go soon. As you waved them goodbye, Dazai and Chuuya already planned what to do with you. At home, they set their plan in motion. .
"Ngh— Dazai, please. .", you whimpered as Dazai let his fingers curl inside you. "Please what? I'm making you feel good, aren't I, pretty?", Dazai asked, feeling his fingers do god's work while you laid in Chuuya's lap. He was stroking your hair, your moans turning him on. "Are you close, baby?",, Chuuya asked, you nodded as you shut your eyes at the feeling. Before you could get even closer, Dazai's fingers just stopped and were pulled out, you whined at the loss. "Trust me, you'll be cumming soon enough, sweetheart.", Dazai said before licking his fingers clean in front of you, which made you wetter. "Come on, get on your fours, doll. The real thing is about to start,", Chuuya ordered you, you obediently obliged and got into the position he asked you for. Now being on your fours, Chuuya kneeled on the bed, unbuckled his belt, and looked down on you. When his dick was finally unclothed, he held it in front if your face basically telling you to suck, and he didn't have to tell you twice. You opened your mouth and Chuuya pushed as much of his dick could fit past your lips.
Starting to suck on his dick while looking at him, you suddenly felt Dazai thrust into you, which made you moan out of surprise sending vibrating moans around Chuuya's cock. Dazai only waited a few seconds before continuing to thrust inside your wet cunt, and he wasn't particularly going soft either. His hips slammed against your ass making obscene slapping noises, you almost could've choked on Chuuya's cock with the pace Dazai chose. You tried to not let yourself get distracted, trying to please Chuuya as well. "Pay full attention to this, how good am I making you feel?", Dazai grunted as he slid in and out of your cunt, with the way Chuuya also groaned as you sucked him off. But Dazai waited for a answer from you, even though you mouth was stuffed. "Damn slut— you wanted this didn't you? We made plans for you and you didn't even say thank you, it's like you're asking for punishment. .", Dazai sped up as he spoke to you, the amount of pleasure overwhelming you a little. Chuuya then grabbed your hair and made you focus on him again. "Nuh uh, keep suckin' me off, you can handle this, sweetheart. We've fucked you like this once,", Chuuya told you, just then your tongue ghosted over his tip. He groaned through gritted teeth as a quick rush of pleasure rushed over him. "Good girl, just like that.", the ginger praised you, shoving an inch more past your lips.
"You want me to cum inside you, hm? Want me to fill up your slutty little cunt, baby?", Dazai huffed as he bent down to your ear, letting you hear every grunt and low moan, he let you hear how good you felt. "Oh, you'll like that? 'Cause you clenched down on me.", before he could say anything else, you clenched down harder and eventually came, this was also the reason Dazai got sent over the edge like five minutes later. Chuuya wasn't very far either, it took only five more minutes for him to empty his load inside your mouth. He released you from his cock and you took in some deep and heavy breaths. You closed your eyes to calm down from your first orgasm. As soon as you opened them again you saw that Dazai and Chuuya switched places, which meant that it was probably Chuuya's turn— "You're still wet? Wasn't it already enough?", Chuuya teased, his tip now being dragged along your folds to tease you, slick already dripping down his tip. "Fuck, do you want us to continue until you become cockdrunk? Until our cum is dripping down down your thighs? Fuckin' slut.", he teased you further, his tip now slowly going in. "Go on and suck 'Samu off, just like the good girl you are,", Chuuya cooed as his cock was halfway in.
You opened your mouth for Dazai so he could place his dick inside your mouth, just like you did with Chuuya earlier. You start sucking him off and Dazai was already grunting and cursing to himself, precum already leaking out. Meanwhile Chuuya just let you get adjusted to his size and started to move, like Dazai, not particularly gentle. Not only did his hips slap against your ass, but his hands found themselves spanking you right now. Now you had Dazai in your mouth, Chuuya in your cunt and barely any power in your arms left to hold your upper body. You focused on Dazai a little more than on Chuuya, which resulted in him thrusting up hard to gain your attention. "Hm, arch that back for me, sweetheart.", Chuuya groaned into your ear, Dazai was getting closer by each suck, if you licked his tip then he'll—
"Ah— shit! J–just like that, you fucking whore. .", the brunette moaned while cumming inside your mouth, this time a little more than earlier. You struggled slightly with swallowing but made it, just some cum rolling down from the corner of your mouth. Dazai held your face, looking into your eyes and cleaning up the drop from your chin. Suddenly Chuuya's thrusts got deeper, as if that wasn't enough, his finger was circling your clit! "Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it, doll? What happened with your bratty attitude, huh? I didn't fuck you dumb now, have I?", you started to tighten around his cock, giving signs of your upcoming orgasm. Chuuya kept going faster, his thrusting got sloppier meaning he was reaching the edge soon. Minutes before cumming around him, Dazai started to rub your nipples, helping your release come quicker. "Ch–chuuya— fuck. .", you breathed out heavily, all the pleasure overwhelming you. "F–fuck, I'm gonna fill this cunt up, gonna make you leak our juices.", this was the moment you knot snapped, you just squirted. This was all Chuuya needed to cum inside you, all the cum inside you slowly gushing out of you.
"You did so good. . think you could give us one more, baby?"
GUYS MY AIRPODS ARE SUFFERING THEY'RE ONLY ON 5 PROCENT RN.
#chuuya'sheaven ♡#chuuya smut#dazai smut#bsd smut#bungo stray dogs smut#chuuya nakahara smut#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara#dazai x reader#bsd chuuya#bsd dazai
519 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii! Can I please request a Miguel O’Hara x fem reader where it’s the middle of the night and reader can’t sleep. Miguel feels terrible that his love isn’t getting the rest she needs so he tries to help her out. Also please please make him call her mi amor at least once!! 🤭
Yellow Night Has Had Enough
✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ You struggle to fall asleep and Miguel knows the right remedy, but you can’t sleep before saying a few meaningful words.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Yellow Love” by Citizen. Requests will be open up soon once I get a few more asks done.
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 620
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ female reader, pet names (Mi amor), sleeping problems, over just fluff…
Want more Miguel content? Check out my Masterlist!
What time is it?
You asked yourself. It wasn’t helping that your mind and body didn’t want to sleep but even more when Miguel’s arms had a tight grip on you.
He slept peacefully, a well-deserved rest after staying up late finishing work. But you, you couldn’t even feel tired.
You didn’t know what was wrong, all you knew was that it was going to be a restless night.
You softly sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time and slowly turned over to the other side.
Your back was now against Miguel’s chest, you could feel his warm breath against your neck.
You smiled when you felt him pull you closer, nuzzling into your neck.
You didn’t want to wake him, and with his heightened sense, you definitely would feel bad if he did wake up. You knew how difficult it was for him to even sleep.
So, you decided to suck it up rather than leave Miguel alone in bed.
Your breath hitched when you heard him groan. You immediately closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep while Miguel began to wake up.
First, he sighs, ruffling his hair as he looks around the room.
He remains silent for a while until, “(Y/n)?” He said, “I know you’re awake.”
Damn.
He grabs your shoulder and forces you to turn onto your back, “How long?”
“Excuse me?”
“How long have you been awake?” He asks again, you shake your head, “Please, mi amor, don’t lie to me.”
“Just… Just for a couple of minutes.” You mumble, thinking it was no big deal.
“(Y/n).” He warns.
“Okay, okay.” You sigh, “For a couple of hours.”
“I’ll make some tea.” He gets up from the bed, heading to the kitchen.
Now you feel awful. Having him make you tea to sleep when he should be the one sleeping. You wanted to bury yourself into the sheets.
Moments later, Miguel comes back with a cup of tea. He hands the tea to you, “Careful, it’s hot.” He tells you.
“Thanks.” You mumble, blowing the tea a few times before sipping on it, “You don’t gotta do this for me, you should be the one drinking this.”
“I would myself but you seem to need it more than me considering that you usually sleep fine.”
“I just don’t know why.” You huff, drinking more of the tea, “Amazing tea through.”
“It was my brother’s recipe.”
“Your brother?”
“…Yeah.”
You remain silent, not wanting to tread or push him further. Finally, you finish the tea. You set it aside.
“How are you feeling?” He changes the subject.
You shrug. Luckily, the lights remained off so all he did was lay down with you, pulling you into his arms where your head laid on his chest.
You knew that Miguel was struggling to think of other ways to help.
“I’m alright. Keep me like this so that I may fall asleep.” Snuggling into him.
“Oh please, you just like my chest.” He laughs.
“I like you more than your chest.”
“Really? What else?”
“I love the way you take care of me, even though you don’t take care of yourself. You try all the time to make time for me. I know that you struggle all the time but you continue to push yourself to be the better version of yourself… I can go on if you like?” You try to hold back the yawn but it still comes out.
You don’t see how red Miguel’s face is, but what you can hear is how fast his heart is beating.
“(Y/n)?” He asks, “(Y/n)?” He tries again.
Miguel looks down and sees how peaceful you look while sleeping.
© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.
#x reader#x female reader#fluff#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099#spider man#spiderman x reader#spider man x y/n#spiderman x y/n#spiderman x you#spider man: across the spider verse#spider man 2099#spider man x reader#spider man x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
hii could you do a jealous kate fic PLEASEEE
jealously is my middle name
summary: blowing off a project for your girlfriend and her jealously.
(678)
kate martin x reader
Being a business major meant being paired up with others often, and by the middle of freshman year, most people had a go-to partner. Your go-to partner was Violet, she was pretty and super funny.
By senior year, you and she had worked on countless projects together. You guys had recently been assigned a project that would be part of your final grade, wanting to finish it early, you guys had planned to meet up the following day to get a basic layout.
there was one problem though, your girlfriend. Kate had been making up excuses for you to stay home all day, whether it was her pretending to be sick, saying that you had all semester, or just saying she would miss you so much that she would "die an agonizing death."
needless to say, she didn't want you to go. "Kate, I need to go, seriously now." you separated yourself from her, knowing that the physical contact would make you fold.
"I don't know where your problem with me hanging out with Violet is coming from, but we need to get this work done." You and Kate were standing by the front door of your guys' shared apartment, she was leaning against the wall, still trying to bargain with you.
"It's not that I had something against her, I just don't understand why you guys have to meet up so often. I mean seriously, it's like every other day." She had pushed herself off the wall, her hands finding your waist as she now stands in front of you.
you squirm at her touch, the simple action causing your cheeks to flush. "because it's our final kate, it's not like it's optional." you looked up at her, she was 6'0, so it got hard to focus sometimes when you guys were standing so close together.
she nodded, a disappointed look on her face, but you quickly saw her eyes change as a thought popped into her head. She stared down at your lips for a second, and then quickly pulled you into a kiss.
you kiss back quickly, melting into it, a pout on your face as she pulls away. "kate, you can't just do that." she gives you a confused look, but you don't miss the smirk on her face.
"do what? I can't give my girlfriend a goodbye kiss as she leaves to go hang out with another girl?" you shake your head, realizing what Kate's big problem is with Violet all of a sudden.
"you're jealous." you smile, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck as she tries to pull you closer (if it was even possible)
"I- what?" the look on her face makes you laugh, her being unable to defend herself, giving you all the proof you need. "I am not jealous."
She narrows her eyes, the tips of her ears reddening at your accusations. "you see y/n, if I was jealous, then I would be trying to get you to stay home. I'm not doing that. Leave for all I care, te ll Violet I say hi or whatever." she bites the inside of her cheek, her hands falling to her sides and off your waist, trying to act nonchalant.
"mhm, okay then, see you later k." you smile, kissing her goodbye as you go to reach for the door you don't get far and you feel her hands grab your waist once again pulling you toward her. "okay but seriously babe do you really have to start it today? wait until tomorrow at least," the end of her sentence is muffled as she barries her head into your neck, her front pressed up against your back as your hand is still on the doorknob.
"not jealous my ass."
-
you had texted Violet that something had come up, and you were unable to meet her that day, you and kate had spent the rest of the night watching movies. (along with other things)
it wouldn't be the last time you had to blow someone off for kate.
okay chat, i like dont absolutely hate this but it def isnt my fav, so ill prob rewrite it.. i was also thinking of rewriting the other kate fic bc i just don't like how i left it. also how do we feel about me writing for women's hockey?? lord kk harvey is so fine. anyway chat im actually dying sos - kate
230 notes
·
View notes
Note
Gotcha!! I am a sucker for how you write Enzo, and even more of a sucker for hurt/comfort or angst that ends in fluff. So to mix the two, my brain came up with this: Reader and Enzo have been together for a while, both are in love with eachother. The only thing is, R has never seen Enzo's "dark side", because the occasion never presented itself, until when Enzo beats up a guy for touching R and making her uncomfortable. R is shocked to say the least, or taken aback, but offers all the same to clean up Enzo's wounds, very lost in thought, because maybe usually violence scares her. Knowing Enzo he would realize this, and kind of spiral in a "did I scare you? Are you afraid of me? I would never hurt you" worries, while R was simply worried about Enzo's well being. So it ends with Reader comforting Enzo and vice versa, just a sweet bonding moment after a bit of a scare and angst. Feel free to change this or make it more dramatic💕💕💕💕💕
you couldn't shake the slimy feeling you had since this morning when Cormac tried to touch you. Well, he did touch you, smacked your ass really. And when you gave him the finger he called you a slag. You tried to ignore him, ignore the interaction. Enzo had tried to ask you what was wrong at lunch, but you told him you were just tired, that you'd had a tough divination class that morning. You could tell he wasn't buying it, but he also didn't push you.
when you were walking with Pansy on your way to the library, she had asked you again, and finally you told her. "What a fucking tosser! A right prick, he is," you had agreed with her words, telling her that you were going to go to the library for your free period. She said she would see you later and that you two could plan to hex him during dinner if you'd want.
You'd liked that idea, so when you saw Pansy sprinting towards you in the library, you were heavily confused. You stood up as she approached you, nearly out of breath. You urged her to tell you what was going on. She nodded, hands on her knees, "Enzo...in the court yard...Cormac...blood...s'getting real bad."
"Oh my god," you took off running, Pansy (reluctantly given that she had just sprinted to you) close behind. When you got to the court yard a small crowd had already formed. You pushed your way through until you got to the inner circle, your hand instantly going to cover your gape at the scene before you.
You always knew Enzo was a big man, he was not only tall, but broad as well. You just never realized how much broader he was than most the guys your age because from where you were standing, you couldn't even see Cormac with how Enzo was hunched over him, landing blow after blow.
You looked around the circle until you spotted the rest of Enzo's friends, storming up to them. You pointed at Blaise and Mattheo, "Stop him. You stop him right now before a professor comes out here."
Mattheo smirked, "No way, princess. This is Enzo's victim, he's not finished yet." You turned, now seeing a different angle of the fight. Cormac's face was bloody and swollen, one eye closed completely shut, the skin around it looking taught like a balloon.
You turned back to the both of them, "Mattheo Marvelo you stop this right. now. or I swear to Merlin I'll hex your dick to the size of a peanut for a month." With his middle name and the threat, Mattheo nodded at Blaise, both boys launching themselves toward Enzo, struggling slightly to pull him off.
Enzo was fighting back against them slightly, trying to swing towards Cormac again. He was so blind by rage he didn't even notice anyone around him. You couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't watch him fight anymore.
"Lorenzo, enough." Your voice was loud and stern. Enzo looked toward you, immediately catching your eyes and relaxing in the two other boys' hold. When you nodded they finally released him. You instructed the other boys to 'take care of this', motioning toward Cormac's beaten and moaning body.
You grabbed hold of Enzo's forearm, not wanting to fully grab his hand and get covered in someone else's blood. You led him down to the dungeons, down the hall of the boys dormitory and into the bathroom.
You pointed to the edge of the tub, "Sit." Enzo did so immediately, looking down at the ground like a child about to be scolded. You opened of of the cabinets, grabbing gauze and some healing potions that the boys kept on hand.
Walking back towards Enzo, you tapped the inside of one of his knees, signaling him to widen his legs so you could stand between them. You lifted his head with a finger under his chin. His had a small cut on his lower lip, "Looks like he got one good swing on you."
Enzo smirked, "Yeah, one's all he got the chance to get." You tsked at him, "You know I hate fighting, Enzo. You never fight, it's always the others."
Enzo's smirk turned to a frown, his lip splitting open slightly more, "I'm so sorry, angel, did I scare you? Are you afraid of me now? You know I would never hurt you, righ-"
You cut him off with a finger to his lips before patting the split in his lip with gauze and a healing potion.
"Why were you fighting him," you knew the answer, but you wanted to know how he knew. You grabbed one of his hands, waving your wand over the cuts that you can only assume were made from either Cormac's teeth or the harsh bridge of his nose coming into contact with Enzo's fists.
"Darling, my angel girl, he touched you, no, he smacked you, and called you names? What kind of protector would I be if I let shit like that slide. No way, that is never happening." You couldn't help but smile as you finished healing his other hand.
You cupped his cheek now, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, "My sweet Enzo bear, my big bad protector." Enzo placed his hands on either side of your hips, one hand going round to give you ass a playful squeeze.
You squealed, swatting at his hand with a giggle. Enzo smiled at the sound, pulling you closer still, "I will always be here to protect you, no matter what. I love you angel girl."
You smiled, "I love you too, Enzo," leaning in again to give him a proper kiss.
#nonny bo bonny#enzo berskshire x reader#enzo berkshire x you#lorenzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire x you#enzo berkshire angst#enzo berkshire fluff
480 notes
·
View notes
Text
Streets
street racer!jenna ortega x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
summary: you had no idea your girlfriend was a daredevil on the streets.
warnings/themes: street racing (motorcycle), kissing, smoking, and some talkie-talkie at the end cause idk what's the term???
words: 0.9k
The wind howls around you, carrying the scent of burning rubber and the screams of revving engines. You glance down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for some explanation as to why your girlfriend wanted to meet here.
Dozens of people stood shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, their gaze locked on the road ahead. You wonder what could possibly captivate so many strangers.
And then you spot it—a row of motorcycles, ready to rumble for pride, for money, or for the sheer thrill of it all.
A street race.
“Hey baby.”
You turn to face her and are immediately struck by her look: her black leather jacket matches her stylishly messy hair. You blink a few times, trying to gather your thoughts.
Before you can say anything, she starts walking towards you, her eyes locked on yours. “You okay?”
You clear your throat and stammer out an attempt at a response, your heart pounding in your chest. “Uh, yeah, I'm fine. And you?”
Jenna's smirk grows wider as she takes in your awkward reaction, her finger tracing along the lip you're biting. “What?”
You shake your head, trying to focus on something—anything—other than her. “Nothing. You just look...” You trail off, not quite able to find the right words.
Jenna's smirk turns into a full-on grin, and she shrugs lightly before leaning in to kiss you. Your knees go weak as she leans into you, her lips soft and inviting. You lose yourself in the moment, pulling her close as you kiss her back, your hands running through her hair.
When you finally break apart, you ask, “What are we doing here again? Watching the street racers?” You point at the line of bikes waiting to take off.
“You watch me.”
“Wait what? Are you seriously going to-”
“You're going to watch me beat those losers,” Jenna says as she saunters away from you and towards the street racers. You follow her closely, watching her hips sway with each step.
When you catch up, she's already putting on her helmet and gloves.
“Who's that?” you hear a man shout, pointing at Jenna as she stands next to her motorcycle. He raises an eyebrow, curious about the beautiful woman who's about to blow them all away. The light reflecting off his bald head.
You turn to them with a cocky grin on your face. “That's my girl,” you say, pointing to Jenna.
Jenna looks over at you, her eyes smoldering as she gives you one last wink before straddling her bike and revving the engine, which roars to life like a majestic beast.
The man raises his eyebrows, “You're dating her? Nice.” With that, he takes a sip from his drink and turns his attention towards the racing.
She takes off with a burst of speed, shooting forward into the distance like a bullet. The man looks stunned for a moment, and then he lets out a loud cheer, holding his beer bottle in the air.
You hold your breath as she passes each obstacle, each turn, each straightaway, until she reaches the finish line and comes to a slow stop.
“My girl!” you shout, raising your fist in the air.
Meanwhile, the announcer on the mic is listing down the results of the race, with Jenna's name taking the top spot. “And here we have the winner, Jenna Ortega, with a time of 45 seconds in this street race!” The crowd goes wild, cheering for her.
The man beside you looks impressed too. “Looks like you got yourself a real racer there, buddy.”
“Yeah,” you reply, “She's the best.” Jenna is the best of the best, and she's shown it over and over again.
You walk over to Jenna. “That was amazing!" you exclaim, feeling the energy from the race still coursing through your veins. “Are you okay? You were really flying out there!”
Jenna just chuckles and gives you a mischievous smirk. “Of course, I'm fine. I've done this a million times.” She brushes off a few pieces of dirt from her leather jacket and holds out her hand, inviting you to help her off her motorcycle.
You grab her hand and swing her off the motorcycle. “I had no idea you were such an amazing racer.”
“I've been racing since I was a kid. It's no big deal.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “It is a big deal. You're the best racer I've ever seen.”
Jenna just chuckles again and shrugs, but you can tell she's pleased with your compliment. She grabs her helmet and gloves and sets them on the hood of the motorcycle.
She takes a step closer to you, her eyes locked on yours. She leans in closer, her breath soft on your lips. “Let's celebrate.”
“Obviously,” you answer, enjoying the playful banter between you two. “What do you want?" you ask, curiosity written all over your face.
She bites her lip, her eyes locked with yours, and then, to your surprise, she just smiles. Oh, you know that look all too well. She's not just planning something, she's planning everything. You can't help but chuckle as she leans in even closer.
“You choose,” she whispers, running a finger along your chest.
You look over to the motorcycle and then back to her, your eyes locked with hers. “I don't mind riding both.”
Jenna just laughs and rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, you're such a rascal.”
Notes: now i wanna write street racing au
#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x you#wednesday#wednesday x reader#wednesday addams x reader#tara carpenter x reader#vada cavell x reader
657 notes
·
View notes
Text
❄️️Warm my heart pt. 2❄️️
Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/ The Darkling x fem! heartrender! reader
Summary: December. Everyone in the Little and Grand Palaces is excited about the upcoming holidays. Only the Black General seems rather... depressed. Like every year when these holidays are coming closer. Maybe this year, since you've been promoted to his second-in-command, you can make the general's holidays a little more enjoyable? And you're not doing it because you're in love with him and you want to see him finally careless happy... not even a little bit.
Written with sounds of: Chemtrails over the country club - Lana Del Rey
Word Count: 3,5 k
Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @budugu
~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~
~•♤♤♤•~ Part 1 ~•♤♤♤•~ Part 3 ~•♤♤♤•~
Sneeze. You blow your nose into your handkerchief as quietly as you can and go back to writing. Another sneeze. You watch the tent flap out of the corner of your eye, ready for his return at any moment.
You caught a cold. Probably because you fell into a snowdrift with him and had… a moment there. You'd probably rather avoid all this. At least your heart wouldn't beat stupidly every time you were in his presence. And the stuffy nose and scratchy throat were just an irritating addition to your misery.
You sneeze loudly just as you hear his heavy-booted footsteps entering his tent. You mentally curse and close your eyes. You hear him brush the snow off his clothes before he stands still as he notices you. His burning gaze on your back almost makes you feel a little warmer.
"I'd like to say that I have right, but you look so poorly that even Ivan wouldn't have the heart to tell you that. Explain to me, in the name of the saints, what you are doing here instead of warming yourself by the fire wrapped in a blanket, preferably with a healer who will help you get out of this?" he asks, crossing his arms and wrinkling his nose at the pile of used tissues next to you.
"We ungrouped. Zoya took everyone with her except Fedyor, Mal, and Alina and went on looking for the stag." you grumble, pulling your coat tighter around you. "Besides, I haven't finished these papers."
"Why the hell did the tracker stay here instead of going with them?"
You shrug. "I guess he doesn't get along with Zoya. He said the stag got scared and found a hiding place to wait out the worst of the snow. He says we'll try again in a week, when it will stop snowing a little bit. I'm not surprised. If I were him, I'd also rather go back to the castle than chase the stag in the beginning of the raw winter."
"If you were him, we would have had a stag's bones in the Little Palace long ago, ready to be used when Alina mastered her powers. Besides, the boy distracts her. Not only does he delay our hunting, he also delays her training and doesn't let her use her full potential."
Jealousy settles unpleasantly inside you, digging a hole in your stomach. You should get used to it. Eventually, he and Alina will end up together one day and make a great couple. Sun and shadows. Light and darkness. Day and night. And other poetic shit like that. They were soulmates. One of a kind. No one could deny it.
"Maybe you're not as good a teacher as Baghra after all?" you say teasingly, trying to enjoy all the attention he was still showing you... at least until he realises that Alina is… extraordinary and is much more worthy of the position by his side. As his second-in-command, right hand, or… even someone much more, you could ever be to him.
"And you against me? My own deputy?" he snorts and walks over to the fire in the centre of the tent. You see the smirk stretch across his lips, and it instantly warms you, even before he even lights the fire.
"Baghra is specific, to say the least, but she is great at what she does. I don't know many people who would ever lose control of their powers after training with her."
"Believe me, I know such people…" he says thoughtfully. He stops lighting the fire and stares at the tinder in his hands. You feel the tension in his muscles and the quickening of his heartbeat as another of his memories comes flooding back to him.
Your heart clenches with grief and sympathy as you see his eyes darken under the heavy flashback. Without thinking, you walk up to him and take the tinder from his hand to light the fire yourself.
"When I was little, my brothers liked to camp in the forest and in the fields. We played soldiers who go to war and have to spend the night with only a sleeping bag and a tent. We had to find the rest ourselves. Our mother had a heart attack more than once when we returned late in the afternoon, dirty, freezing, and starving, but with such big smiles on her face that she didn't even shout at us. She left it to her father." you laughed as the first flames engulfed the logs in the fire.
"What happened to them?"
You're shaking. At first, you don't want to answer his question, but when you look up and see his gaze fixed on you, those dark eyes, so interested in you, you just... melt. Your heart is too weak to let this moment of his attention slip through your fingers.
"Fjerdans. They attacked my village and killed my parents. My siblings and I went to live with our grandparents, and a year later we were tested for Grishas. Only I was. They kicked me out of the house so quickly that I didn't even have time to pack. They did it themselves. My youngest brother took pity on me enough to put his stuffed animal in my bag. As a keepsake. We write to each other. I actually only keep in touch with him. But it's always better than being alone."
"You are not alone." he says it quickly, before he can even process your words, and places his hand on your shoulder, stroking it tenderly. "You... will never be alone, Y/N." he says with such confidence and tone of voice as if it was a promise he would never break.
He looked at you many times, but now. You feel something new in his gaze. A certain kind of tenderness, understanding, need for protection. And you bask in this feeling, as if in the glow of the warmest fire. The fire next to you isn't half as warm as his gaze on you and the touch you feel on your skin even under the layers of clothes you're wearing.
"I... I know." you whisper, hypnotized by the deep gaze of his dark eyes. "I have Fedyor, Genya, David, Alina. You. I found myself a new family. Maybe it's better to be nobody's daughter."
"No one will hurt you like your own family will." he sighs, nodding.
The crackle of burning wood is the only thing that can be heard in the silence that has fallen between you. His hand gradually moves from your shoulder to your neck, where he strokes your cold skin with his thumb, making you shiver.
"You're cold. We should warm you up. Where are your gloves and scarf?" he asks, shaking off the moment between you.
You feel him tense again and go to his bed to grab a black fur blanket and wrap it around you. You blush slightly, enveloped in his warmth and scent. You thank all the saints that he can't hear your heart beating fast… unless he felt your pulse when he caressed your neck with his thumb. Then you are fucked up.
"I left it in my tent. I was in a hurry to get here. I wanted to finish the paperwork as quickly as I could so as not to infect you." he laughs at your words and you frown, not knowing what's so funny.
"I don't get sick, milaya. Get some sleep. Maybe the tracker is skilled enough to track down an animal for dinner. I'll come back with some soup for you. Rest. General's order. I need my deputy to be fully healthy and ready to fulfil her duties. I believe the king will want to call a council as soon as we return."
He throws a pillow at you, which you catch, and he walks out of the tent, leaving you shocked and a little puzzled next to the fire. You immediately feel warmer, and the runny nose bothers you a little less as you allow yourself to lie down. Wrapped in its warmth and scent, you fall asleep ridiculously quickly. Your dreams are filled with him... warming you up in a completely different, more pleasant way.
You don't know how much time passes. You wake up feeling a little better. You look around the tent in a daze, remembering how you got here. The fire still burns, still warming you, but not like a warm blanket and coat. Their black, dark colour clearly indicates their owner.
The smell of something delicious fills your nostrils. Your mouth waters as you look at the huge bowl of warm soup.
"Why is it not a wonder for me that the only thing that can wake you up is food?" you hear his amused voice. You turn towards him. He is sitting at his desk; a candle is lit as he writes something. He lifts his head for a moment and gives you a quick glance. "Eat. You'll feel better."
You take the bowl, and after the first spoonful, you groan at the taste of the soup. "How come this is good? Our supply of spices is long gone; how did you season it?"
He can't help but laugh. He puts down his pen and leans back in his chair, looking at you, curled up in his blankets and coat by the fire. A strange feeling warms him from the inside, seeing you so... at home with him, and if it weren't for your wheezing and red nose, he would have no qualms about enjoying the sight. But he knew you were only here because you were sick, and his care was helpful. No one would willingly stay with him. No one has ever done this...
"I haven't lived in a palace all my life, Y/N. I know how to take care of myself in all circumstances."
"How bad will it be if I say this is better than what you feed us in the Little Palace?" you ask, wolfing down the soup. Somehow he can't help but giggle. The heat inside him continues to grow… maybe you were able to infect him after all?
"Do not get used to it. This special treatment ends when you stop making sounds with your nose with every breath you take. Besides, you snore, colonel." he says it with complete seriousness, but even he isn't strong enough to hide the mischievous smirk that appears on his lips as he watches the growing outrage and embarrassment on your face.
"I am not!" you say it indignantly and throw his pillow at him.
He catches it gracefully with a smirk and throws it next to you, far enough away that you can't reach for it without moving. You moan, but don't change your position. You're too blissfully warm to do that.
"Move up. You can't be in one position all the time. You'll get stiff."
"Won't you massage me, general?" you ask flirtatiously. Your behaviour surprises both you and him, but for some reason, your filter is off. You say what you think, and you don't hold anything back... you also feel very hot, which is both pleasant and a bit bothersome.
"Do not cross the border. I'm not your nurse."
"Shame." you say briefly and put the bowl aside. He watches you carefully, noticing that your movements are a little less coordinated.
He walks over to you. He places his hand on your forehead and frowns. "You're burning. We should take these layers off of you."
"As much as some women would like you to undress them, right now it's not something I want."
"Y/N." he speaks to you calmly and gently, like to a child. "You have a fever. You can't be too warm, or it will only make things worse. I'll bring you some water, and when I come back I want to see you out of this cocoon."
"And who are you, my father?" you huff, crossing your arms and tightening your grip on the blanket.
"No. I am much more. I am... your general. So do what I say."
You roll your eyes at him. Your defiant attitude would have done all kinds of... inappropriate things to him if it weren't for the fact that his main concern right now was your health. That's why he doesn't play and argue with you any longer. He takes you into his arms in one confident, sweeping movement. You squeal in shock, clinging to him, afraid he'll drop you. The blanket and coat fall off you, leaving you only in your red kefta.
"No! It's cold!" you struggle with him in his arms.
He allows you to fight him enough to stand on the ground on your own two feet, but you're still trapped in his grip. You probably would have struggled with him for a while longer (until you had completely exhausted your energy), but you both froze in place when you heard a soft grunt coming from the entrance to his tent.
"Um... general?" Fedyor looks at the two of you confused. "I have that medicines you asked about." you frown at the fact that he sent him to the village to get medicine for you. "Mal also went with the list to Ivan. They will be here with a healer the day after tomorrow at the latest."
"Good, Fedyor. Well done. Leave these medications and get out of here. You are letting the cold in." he says, clearing his throat. Fedyor smiles at his reaction, clearly hearing his rapid heartbeat.
"Yes, sir." He puts the medicines on the table. "I would wish you a speedy recovery, Y/N, but under these conditions, I don't think it's really necessary. Good night." he says this and runs away from there, no longer exposing himself to the general's angry look.
He doesn't stay mad for very long. His thoughts of punishing Fedyor for his insolence quickly disappear when he hears your coughing. He looks at you tenderly and leads you to his bed.
"Here." he whispers and hands you a glass with some strange brown liquid in it.
"Aleksander, I can't drink alcohol in this state." you grumble and snuggle into his quilt, trying to create a cocoon of warmth around you again.
But he won't let you. Which is met with great protest from you.
He grabs your arms and moves you so you're leaning against the headboard of his bed, sitting down, handing you a glass, and glaring at you as he sits across from you, watching you closely. He would make you shiver if the fever didn't already make you tremble.
"Drink it. That's herb. It will help." you look at the glass warily. "What's wrong again?"
"Herbs are bitter. I don't want to drink it." you say angrily and put the glass with that damned thing on the nightstand.
"Your general is ordering you to do it. Drink." he says firmly, pushing the glass to your mouth. You purse your lips, glaring at him defiantly, at which he sighs.
If you were anyone else, he would have abandoned you a long time ago. He would leave you alone to maybe die, and he wouldn't think twice about you.
But you were his Y/N.
It changed everything. And he was terrified about how far he would go for you. There were no things he wouldn't do on your behalf—for your happiness, for your safety—only for seeing that disarming smile that lit up his centuries-worn, dark soul.
"Y/N." he whispers softly, stroking your hair. At the same time, he checks your temperature with his hand.
He frowns and presses a kiss on your forehead, cupping your cheeks with both hands. The glass is long forgotten on the nightstand as he presses his lips against your skin.
He would moan at the feeling of your silky, soft skin if you didn't have a huge fever. He found himself wishing you were warm for a completely different reason than the fever.
"Milaya, you are very sick. Drink the medicine for me, okay?" he asks gently, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs as he looks at you carefully. You're still shaking. You're not sure from what, as you silently nod, still staring at his dark eyes.
He breathes a sigh of relief when you sip the medicine from the glass he holds for you without protest. He makes sure you drink it all before he gets out of bed. You instinctively grab his hand, and his heart sinks when he sees pure fear in your eyes.
"Don't go. Don't leave me alone." you whisper, your eyes staring at him so pleadingly that what else can he do but comply with your request?
He swallows and is surprised himself at how quickly he's at your side again, this time holding you in his arms, close to his chest. The idea of bringing you a cold cloth to cover your forehead flies from his mind the moment you snuggle into him for warmth. He feels like a stupid young boy again when he realises that, in another state, you wouldn't seek his closeness. He pushes away these thoughts, trying to make you as comfortable as possible as he runs his hand through your hair and brushes away the beads of sweat from your forehead.
"You're the best nurse or healer I've ever had." you whisper. Your head on his chest, eyes closed as you float with the rhythm of the breaths he takes. And seeing you in such a vulnerable state makes something break inside him.
"I haven't done this for a long time. Look after someone. I was the one who mainly took care of my sister. Our mother didn't want anything to do with her, and neither of us knew our father... so she only had me. People looked at us askance; the kids treated her like an outcast, so she was left to play with her older brother, a teenager who had no idea how to play with or take care of a six-year-old child, and a girl at that. But there was nothing I wouldn't do to make this little one happy. To give her what I didn't have… at least in a small way. Consequently, I can weave wreaths, braid braids, and other strange hairstyles; sew clothes for dolls; and make them. I played the prince on a white horse with her more times than I could count or be willing to admit."
"Black one suits you more." you comment, making him laugh quietly. "What happened to her?" you ask, opening your eyes and shifting your gaze to him.
He sighs heavily, pausing for a moment from stroking your hair as memories come back to him. And you can see in his eyes how much pain it brings him. You remember the words he said during one of your late-night conversations, when you were up late working on your reports.
The past is a wound that cannot be healed.
"She trusted the wrong people. Now she doesn't let anyone close... not even me."
"I turst you. With my life..." You wish you could hear his thoughts the moment he freezes at your words. "We all do." you add, still conscious enough not to completely pour out your heart to him. He pulls you closer to him, continuing to run his hand through your hair and press a cool cloth to your forehead.
"Thank you, Y/N." he whispers, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
A few months ago, he would have cursed himself for letting you get so deep under his skin... Now he can't help but want more. He hates to admit it, but his mother was right.
Men are greedy creatures.
But how could he not want you more? Not to want everything you can offer him when it was you who awakened in him human feelings that he had been hiding from the world for a very long time? When could he be JUST Aleksander with you?
He checks your body temperature again by pressing his hand gently against your forehead, cheek and neck. He hums satisfied, feeling you cooler and your temperature closer to normal.
"You are cozy." you mumble as he is checking on you and you rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him tighter. There is a strange sound buzzing in your ears.
"Cozy?" he asks, amused, knowing full well that in other people's eyes he was anything but comfortable or cozy. And there you were, cuddling up to him like he was your favourite stuffed toy, feeling safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.
"Yhm..." you murmur, burying your face in his neck to sigh in his scent. "You are the best pillow in the whole world."
You hear the pounding in your head more clearly as your nose presses against his pulse point in his neck. You find this very irritating. If you were a little more aware, you would have realised that it was his heartbeat that was making it difficult for you to fall asleep. What you also don't realise is that you are using your powers on him and calming him down, causing you both to fall asleep.
The tickle on your forehead from something very soft and warm is the last thing you feel before you fall asleep. And he only had time to remove his lips from your skin before you unconsciously forced him to fall asleep, cuddled up against you.
#general kirigan#the darkling#aleksander morozova#aleksander morozova x reader#aleksander morozova x y/n#darkling#shadow and bone#the darkling x reader#aleksander kirigan#miniseries#christmas#darkling x reader#the darkling x you#darkling shadow and bone#grishaverse#shadow and bone au#aleksander morovoza#general kirigan x you#oneshot#general kirigan x reader#fools in love#hopelessly in love#crush#romance#flirting#sick#darkling imagine#fever#the darkling x y/n#darkling x you
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
I MADE A SYNOPSIS AND A SONG LIST FOR THE HYPOTHETICAL FNAF MUSICAL (Well, the first draft, I'll probably change some minor story stuff later)
Edit 20/04/2024: Read the second draft instead!
Act I is really similar to the actual lore of FNAF up to the MCI, but Act II is when things diverge.
(Actual synopsis text under cut, had the song list too but it wouldn't let me post with it, I'll try again later)
Synopsis
ACT I
William and Henry meet and create Fredbear's, and later Freddy Fazbear's, and both of their families are introduced (The Spark). Then, it shows the current year of 1983. While William wanted to expand further, Henry was content. Dealing with already existing jealousy plus this new anger, he murders Charlotte to keep him in line (Mine, Forever). Everybody except for Henry moves on from Charlotte's murder, and William continues as normal until his youngest son's birthday (The Birthday). The day seemed to be good for everyone involved. However, due to a prank by Michael and his friends, his head is crushed by Fredbear and he later dies. Charlotte, who was now possessing the Puppet animatronic made to protect her, gives him life inside the Fredbear animatronic. Fredbear's closes because of this, and William scolds Michael harshly (The Bite).
Following this, William and Henry have much more frequent arguments, so does the former and his wife, until she disappears. William spends more of his time at Freddy Fazbear's, where he feels the atmosphere has changed. He then investigates the Puppet, finally understanding that her soul was inside the animatronic. Meanwhile, Michael and Elizabeth become closer together as William spends less and less time at home (Agony). William spends the next year and a half studying, finally creating a plan to recreate the events of Charlotte's murder. With this in mind, he decides to go and take the lives of four more children, Elizabeth overhearing the entire thing (Follow Me)
ACT II
Everybody in town hears about the murders by morning, and Clay starts investigating the situation. He suspects William as the murderer (Eye of the Hurricane). Freddy's closes down. At the Afton house, Elizabeth tells Michael everything that she overheard and the two of them look into all of William's stuff while he was away. Their suspicions are found to be correct (Daddy's Show). They then flee once he returns home. William goes to the room and unveils his hidden experiment: a rabbit animatronic for himself to become. He then decides he needs more Remnant, but knows he can't collect any while Clay suspects him. A few days pass and Jen visits Henry and convinces him to leave Freddy's behind for his sake (Until The End). However, after she leaves, Henry finds a letter telling him to go there. At the restaurant, William plans to murder him and frame it as a suicide done out of guilt to clear his name (Follow Me (Reprise)). Michael steals William's car and goes to Fredbear's with Elizabeth, wanting to find more answers there. They discover Fredbear possessed by their brother, and realise they need to find his father.
Henry meets William, who tells him everything then attacks him. Before he can give him the finishing blow, however, his kids appear to stop him. William talks to them, but Michael sees through his ruse (You Can't.). Clay reveals himself, telling Elizabeth and Michael go outside, where they find Fredbear. Elizabeth brings him to the other animatronics, where they move on (Happiest Day). William fights Clay, and Henry stands. He takes Clay's gun and shoots William's leg, allowing Clay to arrest him before becoming weak (Mine, Forever (Reprise)). He, Mike and Elizabeth say their goodbyes. Later, the town closes the case and moves on from the tragedies. After Henry heals, Freddy Fazbear's is remade into a new space for children with the help of Elizabeth and Michael. William's place is gone through and the rabbit suit is demolished to make the sign. (Save Them).
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf au#fnaf musical au#theatrics at freddy's au#william afton#henry emily#michael afton#mike afton#elizabeth afton#clay burke#jen emily#jenny emily#mci#fnaf missing kids#charlotte emily#charlie emily
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Chapter 3
A/N: when I heard that today's @nestaarcheronweek prompt was wolf, I just knew I had to do some more werewolf Cassian 😉 Sorry this update has been a long time coming, but I promise this chapter is a good one! Hope everyone enjoys!
Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part
Nesta
Nesta supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when she wakes alone.
She certainly didn’t expect to wake within some sort of lover’s embrace. It was clear last night that her and Cassian’s marriage was nothing more than duty, he to his pack and she to her family. But still…
With a soft sigh, she shifts and rolls over beneath the blankets, reaching a hand out and finding nothing but cold sheets. Early riser or didn’t even bother to stay the night? With another huff she sits up, rubbing the final remnants of sleep from her eyes. The room and the cabin doesn’t look much different in the light of day. The rays of sunlight spill in through the windows, painting patterns across the blankets and turning the wood beams of the ceiling into amber.
It could almost be described as homey if it weren’t for the frigid, cloying air still clinging to the room from the previous night.
Pushing the blankets off her legs, Nesta climbs off the bed. She starts to pad over to her trunks before a thought strikes her, her eyes dancing toward the bedroom door. Cassian made it clear last night that he doesn’t trust her, so does that mean he would lock her in? Keep his new wife locked away in the tower?
She steels her spine and stalks toward the door, hesitating for just a moment with her hand outstretched in front of her. Slowly, her fingers curl around the knob, but thankfully, there’s no resistance as she twists. Unlocked. Small consolations.
Shaking her head, Nesta spins on her heel and returns to preparing for the day. With running hot water and no one around, she dares to take another long bath. Loathe she is to admit it, there’s a lingering ache between her thighs, a delicious soreness to her muscles as she stretches out beneath the water. She tips her head back against the lip of the tub and closes her eyes, breathing deeply.
As much as she’d like to, Nesta knows she can’t hide in the warmth and safety of a bath all day. This is her life now, Archeron or not. This is her life here. She’s married to the alpha, a member of this pack even if they don’t fully trust or accept her. A witch amongst wolves.
Heaving herself out of the bath, Nesta finishes readying for the day and steps out of the bedroom. The rest of the cabin is just as quiet, but she pads her way into the kitchen. It takes some rooting around in the cupboards, but she’s able to find everything she needs to prepare a cup of tea, the strong taste and warmth of the drink at least helping to soothe some of the knots twisting around in her stomach.
It’s only when she settles at the small, wooden kitchen table that she notices the letter, her name scrawled across the page in familiar, crisp cursive. She snatches it up, flipping it over quickly. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find the wax seal already broken, but annoyance flares like low burning embers in her chest nonetheless. She opens the letter and skims through her mother’s words. It’s all polite and basic, reporting on her sisters, inquiring if she’s settled, but she notices the ink pressed into the right, bottom corner.
A crow.
Nesta pushes to her feet and finds a candle, placing it on the kitchen table and lighting it. She holds the letter over the flickering flame until the ink swirls, bleeding to the edge of the paper and melting away into nothing. She closes her eyes and says the incantation quietly beneath her breath before blowing across the page, revealing the ink and message hidden beneath.
A meeting.
It’s a meeting request that Nesta is sure was also sent to both of her sisters. No new husbands though, a meeting of just the Archeron ladies. Cassian is already suspicious of her, so she’ll have to figure out an excuse that will allow her to attend. A problem for her to work out later. For now, Nesta holds the letter over the candle again, this time until the corner of the parchment catches, the entire letter going up in flames.
She returns to her tea, the cup almost drained when the front door of the cabin swings open, Cassian striding inside. He’s dressed in surprisingly casual attire, a loose shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to expose the lines of tattoo and golden skin of his forearms. His hair is pulled back and piled into a bun at the back of his head.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Cassian says in way of greeting. He gestures with his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow and refusing to move. “I did sleep well. Thanks so much for asking.”
“You want to do fucking pleasantries?” Cassian scoffs, shaking his head.
“Oh, but dear husband, how did you sleep?” Nesta asks, offering a saccharine smile. The sight of Cassian’s lips pulling back in a snarl has it building into a full blown smirk.
“Do you want to see the village or not?”
“I’m surprised you’d allow a witch such free range around your pack.”
“If you’d prefer, we can stay here and continue our marital duties,” Cassian offers, his tone derisive, the golds of his hazel eyes practically sparking with the challenge.
Nesta’s smile drops away. “Fuck you.”
“Are you sore this morning, sweetheart? I’d be willing to bet that was the first time a prim princess like you has taken a real cock.”
“You wish,” Nesta growls, finally pushing to her feet just so she can glower at Cassian.
She wants to hate the way he doesn’t balk from her ire, the way his smirk almost seems to twitch and grow at her response. The way the golds of his hazel eyes practically spark at the challenge. The sight has Nesta’s scowl deepening, her mind grasping for a way to wipe that stupid expression off his face. Perhaps, she’ll threaten to curse him with impotence.
“Going to curse me, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, raising an eyebrow and all but daring her.
Nesta refuses to let the surprise at him reading her so easily show. “You’re not even worth the waste of magic.”
Cassian snorts quietly, gesturing with his head again. “Are you coming or not?”
With a quiet huff, Nesta takes a moment to straighten out the skirts of her dress, striding right past Cassian and out the door. The village certainly looks different beneath the sun, and from this vantage point atop the hill, Nesta can see the various members of the pack milling about. There’s a group of women, baskets full of vegetables on their arms, a group of young men unloading crates from a wagon, and children running around. There’s even a few members of the pack moving about in their wolf forms.
Cassian leads the way down into the heart of the village, pointing out different places for her as they walk. The hall where the pack council meetings are held. The market square. The butcher and the bakery.
It’s almost strange the way everyone is so friendly and open with Cassian, smiling and greeting him as he passes, the way he gives the same energy back. It’s clear that he’s a beloved alpha, clear that he cares just as much for his people. It makes it all the more awkward the way everyone eyes her suspiciously, whispers of witchcraft swirling in her periphery.
They come to a stop in some sort of clearing between the trees. Circles are carved into the ground, creating three rings, and Nesta spies who she remembers are Cassian’s second and third sparring in one of them. Wooden dummies are set up along the other end of the clearing, wooden and steel weapons beside them. A group of young boys and girls alike run through a series of maneuvers, a woman with pure white braids along her back leading them through the steps.
Cassian whistles, and his second and third both snap their attention toward them, practically pausing mid swing. The woman gives the man one final shove, as though for good measure, before they’re jogging over. On instinct, Nesta’s spine is straightening, chin pinching higher in preparation.
“Nesta,” Cassian begins. “This is my second, Emerie, and my third, Balthazar.”
“My friends call me Baz,” Balthazar tells her easily, placing a hand on his heart.
“You can call him Balthazar,” Cassian says gruffly. Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, but neither Emerie or Balthazar seem to disagree with the order. “And over there is Cresseida. You’ll begin training with her each morning starting tomorrow.”
Nesta doesn’t bother holding back her glare, anger already simmering beneath her skin. “Excuse me?”
“My wife needs to be able to defend herself.”
“What makes you think I don’t know how to defend myself? What do you think I was taught growing up?”
Cassian steps closer into Nesta’s space, the sneer on his face sending her annoyance skyrocketing. “I don’t think you want me to answer that, princess.”
Nesta raises her chin higher to hold his gaze. “Fine. You want me to prove it? I’m more than happy to step in the ring right now.”
“I’m sure we can find a beginner opponent that will be willing for your little demonstration.”
“And miss the opportunity to knock you on your sorry ass?”
Cassian laughs, the sound nothing short of mocking, but he gestures toward the training rings with his arm. “Fine then. After you, Nes.”
Nesta scowls at the nickname, but she stalks forward into one of the three rings. Cassian follows behind her, stepping over the line at the opposite end. They’ve already drawn the attention of the group training, and Nesta is sure that word will quickly blaze through the rest of the village. The witch challenging the alpha.
She’s sure there will be more sneers, more whispers and snide remarks. She’s sure that if her mother could see her now, she’d call Nesta foolish, chide her for letting her emotions get the better of her. But Nesta swore to herself a long time ago that she would never be weak again, and she refuses to let Cassian or his pack see her as such. Alpha or not, marriage sham or not, she intends to meet that fire she’s seen sparking in his eyes head on. Intends to burn just as bright until she wipes that cocksure smile clean off his face.
“I’ve got Cassian in this,” Balthazar murmurs.
“Oh, I’m definitely taking Nesta,” Emerie answers.
Nesta closes her eyes, letting the village, the pack, Cassian, all fade away. She centers herself the way she always has, sinking beneath the rippling waves of her well of power. Even the birdsong around her dampens to nothing, warmth trickling through her veins and pooling in her fingertips. She opens her eyes, allowing the power to swell to the surface, knowing it’s now flickering within her gaze.
Cassian’s own eyes widen, his movements pausing, but he’s quick to shake his head and set his stance, mouth pinched in a firm line. The beast within Nesta gives a low growl of approval. She can feel it pressing down onto its haunches, desperate to be released, and she dares to turn the key in the lock, keeping the cage firmly closed. For now. She widens her feet and raises her fists in a defensive positioning, raising a single eyebrow in challenge to the male across from her.
He moves faster than she expects, Cassian all but charging toward her. His arm swings out, but Nesta is quick to duck beneath the arching punch. It seems to be the exact response Cassian was expecting, what he was hoping for. The palm of his other hand slams into her collarbone, the force enough to throw off her balance and send her toppling onto her ass with a soft grunt.
Cassian lets out a derisive snort above her, but Nesta glares up at him, jumping back up to her feet. She loosens that leash on her magic, feels the familiar heat of flames twisting and wreathing around her wrist. She drives her hand against Cassian’s chest, releasing all that magic through her fingers. The alpha goes careening back, landing hard in the dirt sprawled on his back.
Cassian sits up, spitting to the side and wiping his now split lip with his hand. “Using magic is cheating.”
“Because war is all about rules and fighting fair,” Nesta drawls sarcastically.
“Touche,” Cassian comments idly, pushing back to his feet. “We can play it like that, sweetheart.”
It’s like watching the whole thing in slow motion. The way that Cassian’s muscles seem to ripple and bulge. The way fur sprouts and cascades down his skin. The way magic practically shimmers around him as he shifts. One blink and a large world stands before Nesta’s eyes. His fur is a dark brown, lighter along the chest and down the belly and a black that seems to match Cassian’s hair around the face and ears. But there’s no mistaking the golden glow of his eyes, pinning Nesta firmly in place.
Cassian snarls, the sound low and viscous. It’s Nesta’s only warning before he leaps and closes the distance between them. Nesta doesn’t have time to react, to move out of the way or call forth her power again. Pain radiates down her spine as her back hits the dirt, large paws pinning her shoulders down. Cassian’s canines are dangerously close to her face, hot breath panting across her cheeks, but Nesta doesn’t look away from those golden eyes.
He doesn’t scare her.
A calm washes over Nesta, but that beast within her tugs at the leash, practically chomping at the bit. Just as she’s always done, she imagines slipping fingers through fur, even as she finally opens that cage door. With a deep breath in, power fills her chest, expands between each rib and twines around her lungs. She pictures curling her fingers and grasping the beast’s fur.
Giving permission.
Flames burst out of Nesta in a cascade of silver, crashing around her. With a surprised yelp, Cassian goes flying through the air as those flames curl around his limbs. The force of her power sends him all the way outside of the training ring, skittering and sliding through the grass beyond before his wolf form finally comes to a stop.
“Holy shit.”
~ * * * ~
Cassian
With a grunt, Cassian tosses the large stone out across the water, watching the ripples as it bounces once, twice, before vanishing beneath the surface. His arm is sore with the effort, but it’s a welcome feeling. One that he can control. His entire body still aches, and he doesn’t even dare to look to check for the bruises he’s sure are mottling his skin.
He’d known the Archerons were powerful, everyone knew that, but to witness it in action had been something else entirely. That power had rippled around him, pressing and scraping along his skin until every hair had stood on end. For a moment, his heart had stuttered to a painful stop in his chest. With the silver flames burning and engulfing her eyes, Cassian hadn’t even been sure it was truly Nesta staring back at him. And then all that magic crashed into him with an almost sickening crunch. It threw him hard and far enough that had he been in his human form, Cassian is confident his shoulder would have shattered with the force of his landing.
Huffing quietly, Cassian reaches down, sifting through the rocks at his feet until he finds another flat one. He tosses it gently in his hand, testing the weight of it, allowing the familiarity of it to center him. This deep in the woods, none of the sounds of the pack or the village reach him. It’s just the small, gentle waves lapping along the shore, a birdsong further in the forest, and the wind whispering through the branches and leaves.
“Have you finished sulking yet?”
Cassian throws the rock in his hand hard enough it merely plops beneath the water. “Fuck off.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that Nesta doesn’t have mating marks this morning,” Emerie comments. Her tone is idle, but Cassian doesn’t buy it for a second.
“She’s my wife, not my mate.”
“Is that so?”
Cassian knows what that sarcastic drawl means. He whirls around on his second, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t.”
“Just like your father then.”
“I said don’t.”
Emerie rolls her eyes at his clipped voice, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Do you plan on taking other females to your marriage bed as well, then? Plan to have a whole brood of little bastards just like yourself.”
With a snarl, Cassian closes the distance between himself and Emerie until he’s looming over the female. “Don’t make me relieve you of your post.”
She doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t step back. That same unimpressed look is painted across her face, exasperation spilling through her brown eyes as she continues to meet his gaze.
“You and I both know you made me your second because of this,” Emerie reminds him, shoving hard at his chest until he steps back. “Because I call you out on your bullshit. Did you forget there’s a war coming? Hybern may be quiet for now, but we both know too quiet is worse. Especially now that he has the Cauldron. Our pack is strong, but we’re not that strong. What happens when your wife, when her family, abandons you? Abandons us? Because you had a stick up your ass?”
“And what would you have me do?”
“Stop being a dick to your wife,” Emerie tells him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you respect her, the rest of the pack will respect her.”
Cassian sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ll try, alright?”
“I guess that’s the most I can ask for from an idiot male such as yourself.”
Emerie leaves Cassian alone with his thoughts after that, trekking back through the trees and toward the village. He stares out across the water of the lake, letting out another sigh. He hates that Emerie is right. The whole reason he agreed to this alliance, why he went through with this marriage, is for the pack. Loathe as he is to admit it, they will need Nesta and the Archerons if they want to stand any sort of chance against Hybern, no matter his own thoughts or feelings or opinions.
Besides, it’s not like they have to love one another, they just have to be amicable with each other.
Cassian groans, tilting his head back and scrubbing his hands down his face. Rolling his shoulders, he heads back toward the village. He stops in at the blacksmith, chatting easily with Elis while he works the flames and testing the weight and balance of the newest swords. He hits the bakery next, selecting some fresh goods to take back to the cabin. But as he steps back out, he catches the eye of Cresseida at the shop across the way. She’s wearing the same unimpressed expression that her wife did, and Cassian can practically hear Emerie’s voice in his head, chastising him for stalling.
He flashes Cresseida the finger, earning a fond shake of the head in return, but he gets the message. He trudges the rest of the way back to his cabin, taking the stairs slower than he normally would, but there’s no delaying the inevitable.
He pushes the door open and finds Nesta sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. She has a book open and propped on her knees, one he has no idea where she got it from. She doesn’t even bother to look up or acknowledge him, pointedly turning a page, so with a soft sigh, Cassian turns his attention to the kitchen. He starts pulling out ingredients, lining the counter with everything he’ll need, and grabs a pan.
“Have you eaten?” Cassian calls out, sparking a flame.
The sound of a book snapping shut lets Cassian know he heard her. “Are you intending to cook for me?”
“I promise not to poison it and everything, sweetheart.”
“How generous.”
It’s with a familiar ease that Cassian begins chopping up everything he needs, adding everything to the pan to saute. He mixes up the spices and prepares the sauce just as his mother used to when he was growing up, the smells swirling and filling the kitchen tugging at his memory as much as they tug at his heart.
He feels more than he hears Nesta step into the kitchen. Even with his back to her, his every nerve ending prickles with awareness of exactly where in the room she is, always zeroing in on her presence. The tickle of her breath skates across the skin of his neck as she stands just behind him, pressing up onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.
“Don’t trust my promise?”
Nesta huffs quietly, taking a step back from him. “I want to see my sisters.”
Cassian hums, so she knows he heard her, but he continues to prepare their food. He gives it all a good stir, scooping some onto the wooden spoon and holding it out toward Nesta in offering. She hesitates for a moment, gaze dancing between the spoon and his face, but then she slowly leans forward, accepting the taste.
“I want to see my sisters,” Nesta repeats, crossing her arms. “I want to make sure they’re alright.”
“Is it the vampires or the Vanserras that you don’t trust?” Cassian asks, plating up their food. “Or is it both?”
“It’s not about trust. You agreed to this marriage because you knew it was the only way to keep your pack safe from Hybern. I did it for my sisters, to ensure that Elain and Feyre would be safe. So I want to see them. My mother wrote a letter, and she will arrange it all. I just need a carriage.”
“Fine.”
Nesta blinks a few times, reaching out to accept the plate Cassian extends toward her. “Fine?”
“But either Emerie or Baz will accompany you. You can choose which.”
“Did you hit your head when I knocked you on your ass or something?”
“You wish,” Cassian tells her, settling at the table with his own plate. “You said so yourself, we need each other if we want to stand any chance against what’s coming. But I can assure you, sweetheart, I won’t let you get another chance like that again.”
Nesta hums noncommittally, but she settles in the seat across from him nonetheless. Cassian doesn’t miss the fact that she waits until he’s fully taken a bite of his own food before digging into her own. He doesn’t take it too personally.
They eat in relative silence, just the quiet clink and scrape of utensils. When they’re finished, Nesta snatches up her book again and retires to the bedroom. Cassian continues to putter around the cabin, sorting through the papers on the desk in his study, studying the information and intel about Hybern his wolves have been able to discover, scrutinizing the map and the markings on it.
But as clouds continue to move across the sky, masking the silver glow of the moon, as shadows continue to stretch across the floors of the cabin, exhaustion begins to tug at Cassian’s limbs. He knows that, realistically, he should retreat to the extra bedroom in the cabin, the one he always keeps made up in case one of the younger wolves needs a place to crash. But that voice in the back of his mind continues to whisper, continues to prickle and scrape for his attention. His nerve endings still feel on high alert, all too aware of the witch between these four walls.
Emerie just told him to stop being a dick to his wife. She never said anything about needing to trust her.
Cassian doesn’t even bother knocking, strolling straight into the bedroom. Nesta is already settled beneath the blankets, pillow propped at her back and that same book still in her hands. She glares over the pages at Cassian, making an affronted sound when he closes the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” Nesta demands with an annoyed huff. “There’s no magic dictating us anymore. Don’t you have another bedroom you can stay in?”
“Did you forget that you’re in my bedroom?” Cassian fires back.
He can feel Nesta’s glare sinking into his shoulder blades like knives as he turns his back on her. Can practically hear the way she’s seething. But she doesn’t say anything back, and Cassian refuses to be bothered. He fists a hand in the back of his shirt, tugging it up and off and tossing it aside. He continues stripping down until he’s comfortable to sleep, pulling the tie from his hair until his curls tumble comfortably around his face and shoulders.
When he turns back toward the bed, Nesta’s eyes are glued to his chest. Already, Cassian can feel a smirk tug across his face, a teasing comment on the tip of his tongue, but then he takes in Nesta’s expression. The slightly hollowed look to her blue eyes, the pinched brow and downturned lips. He looks down at his own chest, and barely holds in a wince at the sight. Purple and red patches are mottled across his skin, stretching up over his ribs.
“Is that regret I see on your face, Nes?”
That all too familiar scowl is back in a second. “Not if you keep calling me that.”
“Do I need to sleep with one eye open?” Cassian asks, stepping over to the bed and slipping beneath the blankets.
“Just fuck off, and go to sleep.”
Nesta rolls over and places her book on the small, side table, extinguishing the lantern and casting the bedroom in darkness. Cassian snorts softly at the dismissal, but he settles back against the mattress. He closes his eyes and wills his body to relax, but Nesta shifts, clearly getting more comfortable, and he’s painfully aware of her presence beside him.
She hasn’t been here long, but already her scent has permeated the cabin, and with her so close again, vanilla and lilies flood Cassian’s nose. He can feel the warmth of her, and when she shifts again, her foot brushes against his leg. He dares to turn his head to the side, toward her. Nesta has her back to him, but the blankets still cling to her every curve, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Her hair is fanned out across the pillow behind her, the strands practically glistening under the moonlight spilling through the window.
Cassian can still remember the way those strands of golden brown hair felt twisted between his fingers. He can still remember her body pressed against his, the sweet sounds of her moans echoing in his ears. He can still remember the tight heat wrapped around his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, suddenly feeling like a livewire. It would be too easy to turn to her fully, to press his body against hers. To latch his lips to the skin of her neck. To slide his hand across her waist, down her stomach, lower still.
Nesta’s name weighs heavy on his tongue, but Cassian is quick to swallow it back down. He rolls over onto his side, away from Nesta, giving his pillow a hard punch. These are the last type of thoughts he needs. Sighing softly, Cassian forces his mind to empty, to quiet, forces himself to give in to sleep’s embrace.
—
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
#nestaweek2024#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acosf#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian#when we howl#my fic
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
Barely Breathing | Three
The aftermath of Tyler cheating
Warnings: angst, smut
A/N: third and final part to this series with @madhatterbri. y/n gets her revenge but probably not how you would expect
Tyler basically moved back in at his parent’s house after the breakup. He still had his penthouse but he didn’t want to be alone in it.
All of the reminders of you would haunt him if he went back. The dresser drawers that were cleared out of all of your stuff you took when you left and the photos of the two of you decorating the living room was something he just didn’t think he could handle right now.
He sent you text message after text message begging for a chance to explain everything but he assumed you must have blocked his number when days went by without a single reply.
It wasn’t until one night as he was sitting outside with his dad puffing on a cigar and having a glass of whiskey that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he had to take a double look at the screen when he saw your name floating on it.
“Y/n wants to talk tonight.” He says, looking over at Taz with wide, hopeful eyes.
“I told you to give her some time to blow off steam. Still don’t agree with what you did, but I’m glad she’s giving you a shot to explain your stupid actions.”
Taz had been hard on him about the whole ordeal. He had no idea that Tyler cheated on you until he confessed it the night he showed up drunk at his door.
He didn’t scold him that night, because it was obvious that Tyler wasn’t in his right mind, but the next day and every time you came up in conversation, he made it a point to tell him that he made a big mistake.
“Yeah.” He sighs as he puffs on the cigar, exhaling some smoke above his head. “I’m gonna regret that for the rest of my life, honestly. I’m just glad she’s even talking to me again.”
“You should.” Taz adds, sipping on his glass. “Know what else you should do?”
“What?”
“Take your ass home and put on some new clothes. Shower, shave, fix yourself up. You’ve been moping around in the same clothes for days and I haven’t seen your hair wet since you got here, so I’m pretty sure you ain’t had a shower either.”
“I took one yesterday.” Tyler attested. “But yeah, I need to change. Guess i’m gonna go.”
He put the cigar out and finished the last bit of whiskey in his glass before he got up from the chair. Just before he was about to leave, his dad stopped him.
“Son, listen to me. If she gives you another shot, you better not blow it this time. You got a good girl who loves you and treats you good. Start acting like it.”
What Tyler didn’t know, was that good girl that left his house that night was nothing close to the girl who was stepping back in.
You had been completely broken down by what he did. It haunted you every single night. You went through all stages of mourning it felt like, but landed firmly on one that felt way better than sitting around crying over him.
You were angry. The more you thought about it, the more rage made home inside of you. The years you spent together and all the things you went through being completely disregarded for some girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of made you despise him even more than anything else anymore.
You just wanted him to feel the same pain you had to suffer through, and no matter how many texts he sends saying that he misses you and he’s just so damn sorry, you knew he wasn’t the level of sorry that he should be.
Tyler took his time getting ready. He had butterflies in his stomach for the first time in a long time. He kept glancing at the clock but time was going by so slow, he was just anticipating when you’d be knocking at that door.
He picked up a bouquet of roses on the way back. He didn’t know if you’d accept them but he felt like it was the very least he could do to thank you for giving him a chance to talk to you.
He was nervously messing with his hair when he heard the faint knocks at the door, and had to take a deep breath before he opened it.
Seeing you again was something that made his heart feel like it was getting squeezed by stone hands in his chest. You looked good. You didn’t look like you were going through a breakup by any means. He wondered if you had to take your time getting ready to hide what you really had been feeling like or if you were really just fine like you seem.
“Hey” he breathes out as he opens the door. You send him a barely there smile and step in. You spot the roses on the kitchen island and roll your eyes before he sees it.
“Those for me?” You asked, feigning a smile.
“Yeah, they are.��� He walks over to the bouquet and passes them to you, thankful and relieved when you take them from his hand.
“My way of saying thank you for giving me a chance to explain things.” He says.
You set the bouquet down and shake your head.
“I’m not here to talk about what happened.” You tell him.
“You’re not?” I thought you-“
You cut him off with a kiss to his lips and instantly felt his hands on your hips, pulling you into him as close as you could possibly get.
When the initial shock wore off, he kissed you back with a newfound intention that suddenly hit him.
You stepped out of your shoes and made quick work of getting his shirt off, only breaking the kiss to pull it off before you locked your lips with his again.
It was painful to think about another woman kissing him like this, but you had to force those thoughts away before you ruined everything for yourself.
Running your nails down his abs made you wonder if her nails traced the same path. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair didn’t feel as soft between your fingers when you knew another set of hands had been in them too.
It solidified everything for you. You knew you’d never be able to forgive and sure as hell not forget.
Tyler’s lips trailed from your jaw to your neck as he unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your arms. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes filled with pure, undeniable admiration but yours were just dull, the life completely sucked out of them.
He was so caught up in the moment that he wouldn’t have been able to tell that you were just a shell of who you used to be standing before him.
He leaned down and wrapped his arms underneath you, swiftly picking you up and carrying you into the bedroom. Feeling the bed beneath your bare back as he gently laid you down was a strange feeling. You never expected to be in that bed again after that night.
He peppered some kisses to your collarbone as he slid your pants down, along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable underneath him.
“You are so gorgeous.” He whispered in pure awe. It had only been a couple days but he thought he’d never get to see you like this again.
You grabbed his arms and pulled him down to you, his eyes adverting from your body to your eyes in an instant. You could practically read his mind. Every thought he was having and every feeling rushing through him.
You hated that you still loved him, because you could see full well that he was probably falling even harder in love with you in that moment, and maybe if you didn’t love him, it wouldn’t hurt you.
It was just another thing to force out of your mind as you grabbed his length in your hand and guided it to your entrance. He swallowed harshly before he pulled back some.
“Wait” He says, sliding his tongue over his lips. “Are you sure you want to do this like this? I don’t want you still be mad at me after we’re done. I would rather talk about everything first and then, if you want to, we can do this.”
“I’m not mad anymore, just fuck me please.”
You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more when you pulled him down by his chain, locking your lips with his again. He melted into you at that moment, his fingers sifting gently through your hair as his lips moved with yours in perfect harmony.
You felt him push into you and let a soft moan slip out, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him in deeper.
His hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers together, softly holding it above your head as he slowly thrusted into you.
It was too soft and sweet for you, though. The way he was peppering kisses to each inch of your face and the slow, languid movements. That’s not what you needed, so you reversed the roles and ended up on top of him, pinning his hands above his head as you took full control.
His lips lingered over your neck, he wanted to catch your kiss but you didn’t let him.
He was taken back but pleased with the sudden dominance, he didn’t object to it. His eyes stayed trained on you as he watched you take every inch of him, doing your best not to collapse down on top of him when he started arching his hips high off the bed.
You screwed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to watch him. It was a harder task than you expected it to be. Hearing the sounds of his low groans and heavy sighs, the occasional whisper of your name leaving his lips, it was pulling at your heart strings and that was the last thing you needed.
You made the mistake of letting go of one of his hands, and he immediately brought it to the back of your neck to bring you down to his lips. You tasted whiskey and fresh mint on your tongue, the kiss so filled with passion and desire that it made your head spin.
You broke away and straightened up on top of him, letting his other hand go and you allowed it to grab your hip, guiding you.
His lips parted and you felt him twitch inside of you, already knowing what was coming so you picked up the pace to get him there faster. You didn’t care enough about yourself.
He surprised you when he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and placing soft, sloppy kisses to your neck as he thrusted up into you.
“I love you so much, yn” He whispers against your skin. Words that didn’t mean anything anymore.
His hips stuttered and you quickly got off of him, not trying to risk anything under the circumstances. He must have expected you to catch his release but you didn’t, and instead let it drench the bedsheets while you slid off the bed and found your clothes scattered on the floor.
He watched you for a moment before he got up and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, you were fully dressed and fixing your hair in the mirror.
“You’re not staying the night?” He asks with a small voice. You caught his expression in the reflection before you turned around to face him.
“Why would I do that?” You asked.
“I mean, I would love it if you did.” He says, starting to walk towards you, but you step closer to the door.
“No, Tyler. I’m not staying the night with you. I’m never coming back here again, either.”
“What?”
“I hope you enjoyed your last time ever fucking me. Hope that girl was worth it.” You forge a taunting smirk before you walked out the bedroom.
He was hot on your heels but you didn’t turn around until you reached the front door.
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” He asks, his eyes filled with pain and despair, just how you wanted to leave him.
“Did you seriously expect anything else? You cheated on me, babe. You deserve everything you’re getting.” You shrug before you open the door and step out, making the man you once planned to marry just a boy from your past.
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 10
Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.
Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader
I hadn't even realized I slept the entire night uninterrupted until my eyes flickered open upon feeling a gentle brush of my hair. My eyes flickered open and it took me a moment to recognize where I was.
“I'm sorry to wake you.” It took me several seconds to realize Dr. Miller was leaning over the bed, fully clothed and looking as stunning as ever.
“I didn't even hear you get up.” Embarrassment began to take over, leaving butterflies in my core again but he quickly squashed those anxious thoughts.
“Stay in bed,” Dr. Miller encouraged me when I tried to scramble up. “You called out of work, remember?”
I gave a little laugh with an accompanied nod, and his cool smile eased my mind even more.
“My last class ends at two this afternoon.” He nodded toward an open door in the corner of the room. “I left you a couple towels.. some things for a bath.. toothbrush.”
“You didn't have to-”
He cut me off with a firm, closed-mouth kiss and then added, “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to something to eat. I left you a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt to put on.”
It was too much. I was overwhelmed by gratitude as he threw out all the accommodations he had prepared for me while I was still sleeping.
“Thank you.” My lips curled up into a half smile and I pulled him back for another kiss.
“If you need to leave the keys to the truck are on the counter by the fruit basket. The code for the main gate is-”
“2003,” I finished.
A smile spread across his face again. “Good memory.” Dr. Miller kissed me again.. and again. I was tempted to pull him down on top of me but I wasn't about to be selfish and make him late for work.
“Thank you,” I whispered again.
“I'll be home in a bit.”
“Okay.”
“Go back to sleep.”
I agreed but I knew that was impossible. When he left, I laid in the center of his bed completely naked, a bit in awe and in a state of bliss I couldn't accurately describe if I tried. The mystery of the early portion of the night and then the mind blowing sex - they were enough to make me glow a heated crimson color; but the way I was treated the morning after left me swooning.
I turned on my side, gripping the pillow and smiled wide. I was on cloud nine. And then my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Hoping it was Dr. Miller, I reached for it and felt a small wave of guilt when I noticed the number of missed calls and texts from my roommate. Immediately my thumbs danced across the screen, landed on her name and I hurried to put together a couple of sentences explaining what had happened, leaving out the ‘with who’ part.
For a while I just laid there basking in the experience before finally making my way into the master bathroom to draw a bath. The oversized tub was just too tempting not to indulge in and the warm water rejuvenated my aching limbs. I felt completely refreshed afterwards when I finally tossed on the clothes that were left for me.
Let's see what else this house has to offer.
The two doors nearest the bedroom were still closed and so I left them that way, not wanting to pry. As I approached the home office I gave a generous peek in through the open door and then took the stairs back down to the first floor.
The night before had been such an adrenaline-fueled encounter that I hadn't really soaked in the beauty of the home. From the marble counters, to the flawless, dark hardwood floors to the lavish decor that plastered the walls, it felt like something right out of a movie.
I passed through the living room and kitchen beneath an arched doorway that led into a billiards chamber. The artsy and elegant design from the adjacent rooms was overtaken by another scheme - one that was sportier, though no less ostentatious.
An immaculate pool tab with fine, red felt sat perfectly centered on top of an oversized carpet. The dark, hardwood floors beneath complimented thick espresso pillars in the four corners of the room.
There was a bar off to the left with rows of top-shelf liquor bottles overseeing the layout of the room from their perch against a wall of gray-toned stone. The entire house was a masterpiece.
Beneath an oversized flatscreen on the opposite side of the room from the bar was another arched doorway. I suddenly felt like I was in a live game of Clue.
It was Colonel Mustard in the billiards room with the knife, I joked in my mind. It was a rather cheesy line, though it was absolutely fitting. Had one of my friends been with me I would have said it aloud for a cheap laugh.
Crossing through the next doorway was like a miniature adventure. What would I find next? I had my guesses.
Dim lighting led down a hallway lined with stone. With each step the space narrowed and the vibes of Clue now merged with that of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Would there be a chocolate river at the end? Maybe Oompa Loompas? My thoughts grew sillier and less realistic by the second.
When my short journey landed me in the center of a small library I wasn't wholly surprised. It was as fitting as the rooms I'd traveled through this far. A lavish miniature castle wouldn't be complete without a personal library.
Awestruck didn't accurately describe the way I was feeling. Dr. Miller had secrets - probably secrets that should never cross the threshold of his lips. The thought was planted firmly in my mind before, though it had grown into a garden of certainty. Professors do not have houses like this.
Still, I smiled. Being in the midst of the romantic mystery made me feel alive and somehow important. The latter was a mystery even to me. Whatever secrets lurked behind the walls of the lavish estate had nothing to do with me. I was basically a stranger in Dr. Miller's obscure world.
Why would he trust me here alone? It was the first time that thought crossed my mind. My suspicions suddenly raised and I wondered now if there were hidden cameras watching my every move. It would make sense. The thought made me think twice about climbing an elegant, old ladder that was perched against the bookshelves. Instead, I ran my hand down the smooth, polished wood as I passed and then explored the back of the room.
Another smile decorated my face as my fingers traced the bindings of Edgar Allen Poe’s, The Tell-Tale Heart. It was fitting, or so I thought. Of all the books I had to land on Poe - the talented penman of twisted, poetic horror. Somehow it still felt like a classy read. Maybe that's why I felt it was fitting for Dr. Miller to have in his impressive collection. On the outside he beamed with grace, though inside I knew there was a darker side. I just wasn't sure how dark that side was.
Goosebumps littered my neck now. I was tempted to pull the book from its place but the far-fetched notion that some boobytrap might suddenly spin me into another room, or trap me somehow prevented me from removing the piece of literature from its hiding place. At that, I moved on from the writings of Edgar Allen Poe.
You are being ridiculous. I was, wasn't I? I wouldn't pull a book from its place because I thought I might transfer to some hidden realm? Was I in a 007 movie? Austin Powers?
My fingers traced the Edgar Allen Poe book again before I moved on to browse the bookshelves. Wandering the estate like this made way for plenty of ammunition should another game of twenty questions arise.
A few books down from Poe I bravely removed a red and yellow book from its place. My active imagination sent that familiar jolt of butterflies to my stomach, though I was immediately met with reality. There was no secret room. No Indiana Jones Boulder falling from the ceiling to crush me. It was just a book - H.H. Holmes: The True History of the White City Devil.
The man on the cover immediately drew parallels to what I envisioned Jack the Ripper to like. He wore a top hat and donned a bushy mustache beneath dark, remorseless eyes. I knew this man was who the author penned as the White City Devil.
A piece of paper stuck out from the top of the book just a few pages in and so I thumbed to that page. My eyes landed on an excerpt and so I began to read a short biographical passage about Mr. H.H. Holmes.
By the twenty-first century, Holmes had entered American folklore as the man who built a hotel out of torture chambers to prey on visitors who came to the World’s Fair and may have killed hundreds of people, making him our first and most prolific serial killer. Holmes had already been known as the “king of criminals” before he’d even been formally accused of murder, but now he was a veritable supervillain.
Serial killer. King of criminals. Supervillain. As I flipped back to the cover to look at the man’s face again I looked at him in an eerier light. The red tint chosen to highlight his face was fitting for that of a proclaimed supervillain.
The paper holding the place of the page escaped the bindings and fluttered to the ground. “Shit.” I didn't want Dr. Miller’s bookmark to lose its place, even if it was just a few pages in.
As I squatted down to retrieve it I saw that the paper was folded with the word, LAYOUT, written vertically, letter-by-letter down the outside. My eyes scanned the room in search of some type of recording device while my curious fingers simultaneously unfolded the paper.
Blueprints? I laid the paper down on the ground in front of me and rested on my knees. In my mind I retraced my steps through the rooms I had crossed through to get to the library. Those rooms, like a Clue board, made up the left side of the paper that was titled in the same bold lettering at the top, MAIN FLOOR.
What I was looking at was a blueprint of Dr. Miller's home. The right side of the paper was titled SECOND FLOOR. I noted the home office, several spare bedrooms, the master bedroom and two bathrooms. Nothing out of the ordinary there. It wasn't until I flipped the bluish, white draft over that my interest piqued.
The basement. My heart rate picked up. I could sense that from the flush of warmth in my cheeks. Each section of the basement was labeled accordingly with squared off areas for a home gym, furnace room, laundry area.. and then there was a giant blank space marked off with X’s and lines that resembled some type of an experimental maze for a mouse to escape. There were no written labels aside from the X’s.
As if I was being possessed by a Ouija board, my finger drew a straight line to a staircase all the way to the right of the page. Like a fiend for adventure I flipped the blueprint over again and tracked the origin of the stairwell.
“The library.” I actually spoke the words aloud and began to scan the room. Is there a secret door in this room like my suspicious brain presumed?
The floor was my first instinct. I patiently wandered the perimeter of the room in search of a loose floorboard or a square that was cut out that could somehow lead down below into the bowels of the house. When my efforts failed I moved to the walls and even pulled out a few books, beginning with Poe.
Nothing.
I scrambled to the floor again to make sure I was correct, that the stairway did, indeed, lead down into the basement from the library.
There's no doubt. I was looking at it, plain and simple, blue and white. Would I have to remove every single book from its place to find what I was looking for? No. That would take way too long, I knew; and it would create an embarrassing mess. What would Dr. Miller think if he came home to his books sprawled across the floor of the library?
Think. My eyes landed on a few books on the shelves I began to perceive as sticking out suspiciously far. I pulled, I tugged, I pushed in, I yanked out.. but there was nothing. No staircase.
A small bout of frustration crept in as I leaned a hand on the ladder. I rested there for a moment before turning to face the wooden rungs. A bigger part of me felt completely ridiculous and I almost wanted to laugh at myself. Still, I was curious and amused.”
Up. I hadn't thought of going up to essentially get down. Just above the ladder was a snug, little balcony that overlooked the room. In the dark it was barely visible from where I had been standing but now, staring up towards the heavens, it was clear as day. The ladder wasn't just there for show, it had a purpose. For a moment I let my fingers tiptoe along one of the rungs as I pondered what might be up in the balcony.
What am I doing?
I removed my hand from the ladder and tucked the blueprint back into the book. My eyes scanned the row where I had removed it from, though I wasn't quite sure of it's place.
“Shit..” I whispered to myself, wondering if Dr. Miller had a special home for each individual piece of literature.
That's impossible, I thought, scanning the infinite rows of books in the study. He wouldn't know if a single book was just slightly out of place. Would he?
With a deep breath I tucked the book back in between a Stephen King book and another with navy blue binding and no label on the spine. It worked.. for now.
It's just a book.
I glanced up toward the secret loft again, still tempted to wander into uncharted territory, but I refrained. I was a guest in Dr. Miller's house and I knew I had already crossed some type of boundary by investigating the place, as if I was invited to do so.
When I heard a door open and close from somewhere else in the house I quickly scampered out of the library, down the short hallway and into the billiards room. For a moment I stood still and just listened.
Silence.
I let out a quiet inhale and then an exhale. It was the jingle of car keys that led me out of my hiding spot like a dog with its tail between its legs. And then I saw him, handsome as ever, standing in the kitchen loosening his tie.
At first I wasn't sure if he had seen me tiptoe into the room and so I daintily cleared my throat. Dr. Miller looked up abruptly in my direction and I could tell I had startled him from the look on his face as he adjusted the cuffs on his button down shirt.
He then put his hands on his hips and I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to me being down there. After such a wonderful night, I hoped he wasn’t mad. And as happy as I was to have him back in my company so soon, I couldn’t help but wonder what drew him back to the house so soon after he’d left.
CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER
@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @amyispxnk @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30
#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal x y/n#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character#joel miller tlou#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x oc#pedro pascal x ofc#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fic#joel the last of us#protective joel#joel miller professor#professor joel
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
you’re a badass - steve harrington x f!reader
contains: billy being an asshole & threatening lucas/reader, reader standing up to billy, protective!steve(ish), fluff, lumax.
the cold wind from the outside world was the first thing to greet you as soon as you left the building you were forced to enter five days a week, and you couldn’t be happier. you had finally finished school, after many torturous hours spent attending classes full of people you despised and teachers that were clearly only there for a paycheck. you were finally free and you only had one destination in mind - home.
you made up your mind as you pushed past the annoying groups of people who decided to take up eighty percent of space in the halls that nothing would deter you from jumping straight in your car and driving home, the quicker you got there the quicker you could run a nice, warm bath, order some food and watch movies until you fell asleep. but the closer you made it to your car (that you were sure was actually calling your name at this point), a scene just a few feet away instantly caught your interest.
there stood the one and only billy hargrove, which alone wasn’t enough to distract you from your initial plans but surrounding the buff teen was a group of kids, more specifically the group of kids that usually hung around with one of your neighbours, lucas sinclair. they all looked nervous, scared as if billy was a threat to them which left you a tad confused. your pace slowed and you found yourself zoning in on the scene, trying your best to understand what was happening.
“i told you max, i don’t want you hanging around with these little shits. why don’t you listen, huh? do i need to teach you a lesson?” billy stuck his pointer finger in the redhead’s face, a scowl on his own face which was the complete opposite of the frightened one on his sisters.
“no billy, you don’t i wasn’t even with them i swear! i just- we all just happened to be walking in the same direction!” she was quick to defend herself, her arms flying around as the words left her lips.
billy scoffed, nodding his head as he glanced over to the boys who were all stood a good space away from billy. “you expect me to believe that shit max? you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine. but i promise you they will.”
with that said, he was quick on his feet and began approaching the group who in return took several steps back, though there was an obvious target in billy’s sight as he ignored everyone else, his eyes zoning in on lucas only.
that’s when you decided to step in knowing that if you didn’t, someone was going to end up hurt and even if all of them managed to defend themselves against the hargrove boy, he’d still probably end up on top. he of course had all the advantages; taller, older and more athletic.
“hey hargrove! are you crazy? that’s a twelve year old boy you’re about to attack!”
your voice was enough to bring him to a halt - and just in time too. he was about two seconds away from coming in contact with the older sinclair sibling, who looked like a deer caught in headlights which had your heart aching at the sight. the californian glanced back at you, fury still present in his eyes, even more so at the interruption. “mind your business (y/l/n). this has nothing to do with you.”
it was your turn to scoff now, you approached the teen without hesitance despite his clear bad mood and stood between him and lucas. “if you think i’m just going to get in my car and let you do whatever it is you were about to do, then you’re a lot stupider than i originally thought you were.” you spat at him.
the comment had landed a huge blow to his ego, that was obvious when his fists tightened and max let out a gasp, shocked that you had the balls to stand up to him like that. you didn’t back down though, not even when he took a step closer to you, so close to you now that if you had the time you’d probably be able to count each eyelash per eye.
“if you don’t move out of my way, sinclair won’t be the only person getting what’s coming to him.”
“yeah, no. that’s not gonna happen.”
this time another voice was interrupting the moment, one that was instantly familiar to you. steve harrington was now stood to your side, you hadn’t even seen him enter the car park, never mind approach all of you but you were guessing that was because you were too focused on the asshole stood with his chest almost touching yours.
your eyes left billy’s, now hooked on steve’s who were filled with a great mixture of anger, concern and annoyance. he looked back at you, his lips lifting to send you a small smile which you were eager to return before the moment was ruined by billy who laughed, though there was no amusement present.
“oh what a surprise, pretty boy here has come to save his girl, like some knight in shining armour. can’t stand it when you’re not the centre of attention, isn’t that right .. king steve?”
steve’s old title had him cringing on the inside, he couldn’t believe he was once the person he used to be. dropping carol and tommy was one of the smartest decisions he had ever made - that and finally working up the courage to ask you on that date a few months ago.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about man, i’m just here to put a stop to whatever you think you’re about to do next.” steve gestured to both you and lucas, who were now stood side-by-side with lucas gripping onto your arm. “i know you think this whole tough look is a huge turn on for the ladies, but really? to hit not only an actual child but a girl too? in front of everyone? i’d like to see you try and restore your reputation after that.”
billy actually seemed to take his words into consideration, his blue eyes scanning the car park which was still semi-full of teens despite the fact that school had ended almost ten minutes ago now. a lot of people that attended hawkins high did have very skewed morals, but none of them would stand for someone who went around attacking anyone and everyone they pleased. there were certain lines you just shouldn’t cross, an (almost) grown man hitting a child and a woman were definitely across those lines.
so with one last hateful filled glance towards all of you, specifically you and lucas, he reluctantly took a step back and lucas’ grip on you loosened as he finally relaxed.
“whatever. come on max, get your shit we’re going home.” he pushed past steve, his shoulder purposefully pressing against steve’s who didn’t bother to entertain the obvious attempt to rile him up.
“don’t bother, i’ll be taking her home today.” you spoke up, sending a max a gentle look that told her to stay put and the girl didn’t even bother fighting. you could only imagine what she was expecting to endure on the way home with her ‘brother’.
billy’s jaw tightened, he gripped onto the door handle of his blue camaro and you knew he was fighting the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and finish what he had planned to do before steve made an appearance, but after a good ten seconds of a tense silence passed, he eventually pulled the door open and slammed it with force before he sped out of the parking lot with his music blasting and a middle finger to you all through the window.
the rest of you relaxed the second his car was out of sight, all sharing a look before the younger kids burst out laughing, which soon had you and steve joining in at the contagious sound.
“(y/n), you’re a badass.” max said with widened eyes, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone stand up to billy like that .. except his dad.”
“isn’t she just?” steve smiled, his arm wrapping around your shoulder to bring you into his side. once you were comfortably resting against him he pressed a kiss to your temple, one that left you smiling at the show of affection.
“yeah well, there was no way i was going to leave you all with him like that. he looked like he was ready to kill all of you.” you grimaced, suddenly feeling the need to thank your lucky stars that you had showed up when you did.
they all nodded in agreement, dustin throwing in a quick “yeah. does he take steroids? he looks like he takes steroids.” to which max replied with an eye roll before she began making her way towards your car that was parked only three spots away from where billy’s car had just been.
“so ... do you have any plans for tonight?” you looked up to your boyfriend, who was already looking down at you with a look that could only be described as complete admiration.
you felt your cheeks heat up slightly at how powerful his gaze felt, but shook your head nonetheless. “honestly, no. was just gonna go home, eat and watch a few movies. nothing exciting.”
he nodded, his lips pursing together slightly as if he was deep in thought. “well i’ve heard, that when doing stuff like that .. it’s usually a lot more fun when you have someone with you to you know, do stuff like that with.”
you laughed at the not so subtle approach of the boy inviting himself over, not that you were planning on keeping him away. “oh really?”
steve nodded, and the two of you began to slowly make your own way to your car where max was now leaning against with lucas, who were having their own little conversation. “yeah, definitely. all the time actually.”
“well in that case ... would you like to join me, king steve?”
he groaned at the nickname that you had repeated, this time in a teasing tone opposed to billy’s attitude earlier. he shoved your shoulder playfully, which left you giggling at the childish behaviour that wasn’t unusual coming from your almost nineteen years old boyfriend.
“i don’t know.” he smiled, “is my girlfriend gonna bully me the whole night?”
“hmm ... maybe she’ll be less inclined to tease you if you promise to watch valley girl with her again.”
you almost laughed again as steve’s face instantly turned to a frown at the mention of the movie you had forced him to watch near enough fifteen times now, at first he was all for it, agreeing with you that ‘okay maybe it’s a decent movie’. but now, the poor boy was sick to death of seeing the movie that he was sure he could recite line by line at this point.
“no promises.” he grumbled, and with a happy smile you leaned up on your tiptoes an inch to press a quick kiss to your boyfriends rosy cheek, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get away with much more with all the kids still hovering around.
finally approaching max who was still talking to lucas, you quickly unlocked the door to your car and gave steve one last wave as he began walking backwards towards his own car. he waved back, the smile not leaving his face as he did.
you got comfortable in your seat, waiting for max to do the same before you left the car park; giving out one last wave to not only steve but will (who joyce was now ushering into the car), mike, dustin and lucas.
“he’s so smitten, it’s crazy.”
you looked over to max who was rolling her eyes playfully, a grin on her face as she did. you laughed lightly, your eyes quickly flickering to her before they refocused on the road ahead of you. “who? steve or lucas?”
she never replied.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x f!reader#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fic#stranger things x reader#joe keery x reader#stranger things fic
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
