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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

Not Alone

Title Not Alone

Pairing Yoongi x OC

Summary University is kicking your ass so you always make sure to dedicate a day for yourself and take time to pamper your body and soul. However, you’re cautious around Yoongi your roommate and double-check the d-day to prevent accidents. You're not a fan of revealing any skin because of your insecurities but it’s just happening to be the day when you are - not so alone.

Genre university au, roommate au, romance and fluff, smut

Warning(s) smut (body worshipping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, messy sex, first time, virgin reader, dirty talk, vanilla sex, yoongi has a virgin kink but not explicitly mentioned) implication of insecure reader, shy and curvy reader

Word count: 9k

Masterlist

This universe is related to my other fic I wrote recently ’one time boy space friend’ you can read that one here.

Washing the excess shaving cream off of my hand I grab my phone I previously placed on the toilet’s folded lid lightly humming the outline of the song currently playing. The new playlist Yoongi recommended is full of bangers as always I have no doubt his fate was eventually to end up as a music major. I take a glance at my reflection when I was able to secure the new position for my phone on the laundry basket with the top slightly open reminding me that I need to do laundry if I want to have clothes to wear.

I take a glance at my reflection removing the fog that made the lines of my face blurry with a towel hanging next to the sink on a hook realising later that I used Yoongi’s looking back at the sheepish smile that greets me in the mirror I placed the fabric back hoping that Yoongi won’t mind.

An unknown rap song’s first beats suddenly interrupted by an incoming call that the familiar piano version of my favourite song signalled. I smile seeing the callers ID, placing the toner back to its dust-filled spot next to Yoongi’s shaving cream I make sure to use the right towel this time to dry my hands with before swiping right on the call.

”Hey, What’s the matter?” I answer it with a huge grin plastered on my face making my cheeks ride up into a chipmunk-like smile.

Our class was cancelled at the last minute so I wasn’t expecting a call from her she told me while we were waiting for the instructor to arrive that she has plans with his boyfriend Jimin. Only having calculus that day after an exchanged heated curses for our lazy professor for not e-mailing about the reschedule I happily took a sweet nap and made an easy breakfast I normally don’t have time to consume or even make in the morning I was able to get my relaxing time to start earlier so it meant more time for me since Yoongi supposedly took the afternoon shift.

This piece of information I remembered while chewing on my sandwich as I thanked the gods that I overheard his conversation about the shift change last night when I went to get my late-night snack but seeing the date expired on the comfort food I had to engage in a yoghurt instead.

”Y/N. Are you home?” She asked matching my good mood in the background I heard clinking noises of a pan she must be cooking. I insert my head through the large black t-shirt’s hole as I started to freeze standing here only in my undergarments the effect of the hot shower faded leaving me in the significantly colder bathroom.

”Of course. I started my pamper routine. I cannot tell you how good it feels to be hairless. If only my hair would grow this fast.” She chuckles hearing my banter the faint sounds of crepitation usually the hot oil makes overpowering her giggle for a few seconds. I remember the sandwich I ate this morning around ten-ish that did not prove to be enough. I get sidetracked with what should I make for lunch.

”Oh, so Yoongi is working?” Knowing about my only one rule regarding this d-day I like to call it is that no man should be around when I’m wearing this revealing clothing. He only saw me wearing jeans and yoga pants before these jelly-like legs cannot make a debut in front of eyes outside of mine.

”Yep.” I confirm. I take a look at the time I still have lots of time to relax before I should start that assignment I postponed.

I have everything planned out since Yoongi usually comes home from work in a grumpy state he likes to shower first and then he retreats into his room to do his assignments and sometimes he writes a song or the song even could be the assignment itself I honestly don’t know how’s everyday life as a music major. Yoongi is not exactly the talkative type.

My silent activity is helping his concentration and the best thing is that I have the apartment by myself to do what I please and leave the comfort of my room wearing what I please without worrying.

The best would be if I could rent out my own apartment but I know I wouldn’t be able to pay it by myself and the fact that Yoongi and I share the expenses of the bill makes things so much more easier.

”Why did you call though? I’m sure it’s not because you already miss me.” Tired of holding the phone up I place it back where it was before leaving the call on speakers so I can rub the cocoa scented lotion into the skin on my legs.

”Right. I almost forgot. Jin taught you that Mexican dish that I don’t know how to pronounce its name, right?” Her voice fades a little mid-sentence probably changed ears hearing the cooking noises seeping through the background she seemed very busy.

”What about it?” I question closing the lid of the lotion after I rub the remaining cream on my hand onto my neck so nothing goes to waste.

”I need the recipe.” She demands. I laugh how desperate she sounds through the phone. I make my way out of the bathroom I need my notebook since I didn’t memorise the dish I only made it once and as it was previously stated with the help of Jin.

”Hold on I don’t remember where I left the notes.” I arrive at the kitchen area placing the phone on the counter I begin rummaging through the drawers bending down to peek at the content of each. Spoons and forks. The second one where Yoongi placed the aprons and towels my notebook must be in the last one. ”So, what are the plans for today?” I ask while still searching for the black shiny cover of my notebook.

”Well, I wanted to cook something Italian since Jimin told me once he wanted to try it out but a crucial ingredient is missing so I thought about making that one you told me about a few weeks ago at Jin’s birthday party. After I’m finally done with this shit I’m going to sneak into his room to give him the blowjob of his life while he’s playing some shit games boys do and tell him lunch is ready.” The huge breath she took before starting the word vomiting makes me praise her lung capacity.

Finally. The book was under the aprons what a hassle. I straighten up turning the pages when I hear the front door opening and shut soon after. I turn to see the face of the intruder as I’m still standing in the middle of the kitchen with my hair evidently wet from the shower I took earlier only in my panties and a huge ass shirt to cover myself with.

Yoongi drops his coffee-stained shirt by the foot of the couch the angle is letting me see the living room area without a problem but he can’t clearly see the kitchen from there but my relief is not long-lasting as my friend decides to choose that moment to speak drawing Yoongi’s attention to where I’m standing.

”Y/N are you still there? Shit. I burnt my finger.” Grabbing the phone off the counter I switch off the speaker option and push the device against my ear.

”Yeah, um, I’ll send you the recipe via message. Good luck. Bye.” I aggressively push the red phone button at the bottom left side of the screen until the call ends. Hearing my voice Yoongi walks through the door separating the living room and the kitchen to halt his steps when he takes the image in.

It’s not one of those best times to ponder over how good looking he’s after finishing work and how he always smells like freshly brewed coffee which is not a surprise knowing the fact that he works at a coffee shop near our rented place.

He doesn’t wear the shirt uniform it must be the one he got rid of because of the stains today he wears a simple white t-shirt with washed-out blue jeans. Focusing on his face again I see that his eyes no longer studying my face instead his gaze dipped lower and I swear he's not so subtle about ogling at my exposed legs. My legs!

”You’re … early.” I talk first considering my options. A, I can still make a run for it but the damage is already done. He saw me. Or B, I can try to make small talk pretending that nothing is embarrassing at all just to later enter my room and dig a hole with all of my self-pity and scream into my pillow.

”Um, there was a shift change but I finished 2 hours early in return.” He explains this time his gaze was on my face the entire time no more strayed glimpses. Fuck. I should have paid attention to the whole conversation. ”Don’t you .. have class normally this time around?” He trails off a faint trace of blush appears on his porcelain skin. I use the notebook to hide my panty line that peeks out of the shirt.

”Class cancelled.” I’m horrified how my voice sounds so high pitched the embarrassment paints my cheeks bright red. ”Um, I have something to do in my room so I’ll be there.” I use the lame excuse to escape from Yoongi when I close the door behind me I close my eyes as well because of the extreme humiliation I had to go through.

My phone buzzes in hand I suddenly remember the recipe I promised. I write a quick message to her attaching the picture of the ingredients and notes to help her with the preparations. Now since I’m done with the responsibilities I can swim in my tears for the time being.

I can’t believe after months of caution fate decided to take away from me the deserved me time days. Yoongi is probably weirded out by me too I don’t know how to look him in the eye from now on and it’s a serious problem. For lords heaven, we live together! There’s no way I can avoid him without being obvious about it.

I mean maybe I’m just overreacting. It’s Yoongi we are talking about. He most of the time doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything he certainly won’t mention it and for obvious reasons I won’t either so I can just leave things like that. Just acting as usual like he didn’t saw my legs and my black underwear not to mention he is the very first one to see it I mean outside of my family of course. He’s a boy. No. A man. And he saw me underdressed like that.

It’s okay Y/N, let’s see the bright side at least he saw me when I was shaved. Well, that doesn’t help. Not at all.

”Shit. I’m hungry.”

I waited an hour and forty minutes to be exact despite the rumble of my stomach I sat down to start the book one of my friends lent me to read and I’m over a quarter of the pages when I decided enough is enough.

I waited long enough so he must be cooped up in his room slash studio for the rest of the day. But to be extra cautious I peeked out before fully leaving the safety of my room. I stop once I step into the corridor listening for any noises that might indicate Yoongi has indeed occupied his nest the soft sounds of the synthesizer helps me to relax I leisurely make my way then in the direction of the kitchen.

As I flip the switch the room is enveloped in light. My favourite mug is sitting on top of the counter even though I don’t remember leaving it there. I walk to take a closer look the mug is filled with coffee it’s in a light brown colour so it must a latte. It smells like latte indeed.

My favourite drink. There’s a note glued to the bottom of the mug it’s a messy handwriting and I don’t have to guess to know to whom this belongs to. How did he know my favourite coffee order?

”Sorry for startling you earlier. - myg”

The simple worded note even had his initials at the end. Realising that I never tried out his coffee made me curious about the taste. He works as a barista so It cannot be bad. I’m always late for class so I never had the chance before going into the shop when he’s on duty and order a drink from him.

Most of the time I’m saving on it and just use the shared coffee machine. Don’t blame me I’m just a broke university student.

But if I drink this I won’t be able to sleep it’s pretty late. Fuck it. I’m going to drink it. Not that the unholy time for coffee consumption deterred me before and picked up on some of Yoongi’s personal characteristics I think I can confidently say he doesn’t care either.

I bite into my lip while carefully straightening the lines out on the sticky note. After I was convinced the note won’t come off of his door I leave to go to bed.

”Thanks for the coffee. I liked it. – Y/N.”

***

”Can you guys stop shovelling food into your mouths for a millisecond. I’m serious!” Hitting the table for further emphasis.

Rori and F/N digging through a pile of food before our morning class is something I got used to first as I befriended them and it doesn’t bother me any other time but I wanted some serious advice for once and they don’t even stop digging to say well that’s was awkward. Or shit that sucks.

Not that I don’t know that without them telling me. I appreciated the note and the subtle apology he didn’t phrase it like hey dummy I’m sorry for seeing your sausage legs my bad. Also, it would be unlikely, too wordy for him he’s tight-lipped even in messages. I don’t remember he ever told me like a two full sentence in one go.

”Serious for what Y/N? He saw your underwear and legs. Tell us if you display your boobs or something. Now, I would be interested.” Rolling my eyes at the sarcastic remark I steal one of her favourite apple pie sticks for good measures.

”Hey! I was going to eat that.” She pouts but I take another big bite out of it. It’s too sweet for my liking but everything for the even sweeter revenge. If there’s one thing I learned about these two throughout the years of knowing them is that they take their food very seriously. ”Look. We love you, that’s why I’m going to tell you this. It’s not a big deal.” She pats my cheek before picking up her fork again.

”So what happened F/N. Did you gave Jimin the blowjob of his life?” I used a quote mark at the end of the sentence just how she phrased it yesterday. Rori is more interested in that, of course, there’s nothing more important than sex.

”Let me say the food was cold once we were finished.” She chuckled bashfully. Do I have the right set of friends? Maybe I should be pickier about who I call as a friend.

”So he’s big?” Rori asked with a smirk and I almost spitted out the diet coke onto the dining table. We are in a fucking coffee shop for god damn good. Thankfully not the one Yoongi works for but I think he has morning class so he won’t be working either way.

”Please don’t go into details.” I plea and Rori presents me with a devilish grin while picking the chicken breasts out of my salad.

”It’s fine Y/N. I was a virgin too before Jimin. Your time will come, not that it’s a choice.” F/N tries to console me.

”It’s a choice just not mine.” I murmur it under my nose stabbing my salad with the fork before chewing on it without the meat it’s quite sour.

”Yeah. It’s because you and F/N are both have big sticks up your asses.” Used to her blunt remarks I’m not even hurt or surprised for that matter. The busy cafe drowns out the voices of their inappropriate talk at least.

”It’s not our fault that you fuck every man with a pulse.” F/N retorts back with a giggle satisfied with the remark we exchange high fives.

”How do you know it’s a requirement?” Rori lifts one of her brows making us do gagging motions.

”Ugh, That’s disgusting.” I abandon the food on my plate that was a bit too much and we are in the middle of breakfast.

”A person cannot even joke here? I wasn’t serious. Duh.” I should really search for those new friends.

”That’s something I can believe.” The insult wasn’t even spoken out too loud but she heard me all the same and it earned a kick under the table from Rori with his high heels, I returned the glare she sent my way.

***

”Oh, hi.” I step aside to let Yoongi enter, he furrows his brows in concentration if I wasn’t running late I would ponder over the fact how he measures my body by centimetres. I fidget with my earrings but without a mirror, it’s a difficult task to carry out.

”I thought we’re going to meet with the guys at 8.” Realising the motive behind his stare I nod furiously.

”Yeah. But Rori accepted that guy’s offer to taste wines and she’s afraid she’s going to be abducted so me and F/N will accompany her.” I tell him and he doesn’t seem pleased I wasn’t either at first but I hope he won’t do anything with three girls there.

”Be careful. Anyone else knows about this?” He asks with evident worry lacing his voice he steps closer helping to finally get that chape snap into place.

”Jimin knows and I think Jungkook knows too.” Once he’s done he restores the distance between the two of us. ”Also you know F/N she’s apt to be violent.” Yoongi nods.

”Fuck. I’m late.” I swear as I look at the time. With hurried steps, I pick up my boots and size up my keys ready to leave.

”See you later.” Hearing his voice calling out to me I look back smiling a little managing to whisper back a ’see you later’ of my own. I think this was the longest conversation I held with him so far, what a shame I couldn’t stay to talk more.

The wine tasting went better than I expected. That guy is filthy rich he gave us a little tour around the house before letting us each pick out 5 wines of our liking. We learned that he’s a sports major he’s a swimmer and he told us stories about his practises with the swimming team and talked awfully long about his wins and trophies. To be honest he seemed like a bit eccentric and pompous for me but Rori liked him.

We were late because our taxi on its way to the bar got into a little traffic jam. I got a text from Yoongi at the same time F/N got one from Jimin they were curious about where we are and how we are. We wrote back a short text that we’re almost there.

”So? Whose’s the guy?” Jin asked once we are seated down. F/N took her place next to Jimin and Rori beside her leaving me with the only option of sitting down next to Yoongi at the other side of the table.

Once I’m comfortably seated I look around the table I catch in the corner of my eye Namjoon and Jungkook taking shots. Yoongi grabs his alcoholic beverage before him from the table our shoulders brush against each other due to the motion. I bite the inside of my cheeks don’t want to fidget in place.

”He’s a sports major.” Rori told Jin she told him about our little tour but she conveniently left out the offer about a threesome that I politely declined.

”Oh Y/N you remember that guy who wanted to get your phone number?” Scrunching my nose as the scene flashed before my eyes, of course, I remember. That was one of my most awkward moments and believe me when I say there’s a lot of option to choose from on my list and it’s still the worst. As far as I know, that guy was a sports major too and he was very persistent.

”Yes, what about him?” I nod. I try to shoo the pictures out of head but a forming blush creeping up my neck quicker than I realise.

”Well he’s here. And he’s coming this way.” F/N tells without looking my way her eyes trained behind my form probably to report back his every move. I physically have to hold myself back from whimpering and its not the good kind.

”Shit.” I bite my lower lip don’t want to make things more obvious I don’t turn around to confirm it.

”Oh. I remember. You gave him Rori’s number, don’t you?” Jungkook, you traitor. He was with me when it happened I was flustered enough that he asked Jungkook is my boyfriend or not that I didn’t want to expand my suffering so I gave him my friend's number. She told me if someone I don’t want tries to get into my pants and bothers me I can use her number as a bait knowing her even though my pants were not on the line I still did that. Well, she did more than that after.

”Then what’s the problem?” Jin asks so invested in our conversation that I want to smack him on the neck.

”I was sexting with him and we fucked.” She shrugs. That was what I tried to say. I really don’t want to face that guy.

I stand up with so much vehemency that I almost knock down a glass from the table it’s Yoongi’s empty glass at the bottom of it there’s a thin line of whiskey left. Yoongi grabs my thighs to stabilise me. Looking over his shoulder I saw that said guy indeed walking into this direction.

”Uh, please dance with me?” I grab Yoongi’s hand surprising him for a moment or two but lets me pull him up.

”You have a habit of running away, huh?” I look back to get a grip at the situation. I led Yoongi into the dance floor even though I don’t even know how to dance. He sees the panic settling in my face so he starts guiding me with his hand flat against my lower back. There’s a lot of bodies to avoid so Yoongi is extremely close.

”I don’t like confrontation.” I subtly hide behind his broad shoulders I can see it on him how he tries to stop himself from laughing. I like the sound of his laugh.

”I’m aware.” He purrs into my ear pulling me closer by a hand wrapped around my waist the sweet scent of his cologne hits me like a tone of bricks. I’m painfully aware how his body touches mine my breast pushed against his flat ribcage I can feel him inhaling and exhaling the used oxygen.

”Y-your hand Yoongi.” His hand is dangerously low on my back I’m sure he feels the curve of my ass under his fingers. The bar is dimly lit so my blush remains subtle in a certain extent seeing me blush so many times I wouldn’t be surprised if he would recognise it before it fully blooms on my face.

”What about it?” He clearly wants me to say it but there’s no way I’m going to bluntly say that his hand touches my ass. Rather die.

”What are you doing? Are you drunk?” I defensively ask answering the question with my own questions. He openly finds my antics amusing because this time he laughs. That gummy smile makes my knees weak for him he strengthens his hold on my waist like he knows it.

”My car is here. I’m as sober as I can be.” The hand I placed on his chest when he suddenly pulled me closer itched. He’s touching me and he’s sober. Heaving a sigh he replaces them around his neck I can’t relish in the feeling as his hand on my ass beyond doubt gone since he places it back soon after even lower. The grin he shows me makes me want to give him my fist instead of my virginity.

”Then why are you touching me?” My confidence wavered significantly as he lowered his head his lips closer than ever but instead of kissing me, he blows air into my ear riling me up with the gesture.

”This makes you uncomfortable?” I wanted to say yes, but the full truth would be it’s undeniably uncomfortable and exciting it makes my blood boil under my skin and it scares me how much I want him to touch me tossing aside my insecurities just to feel him like this. At least he knows his boundaries. I don’t know what would I do if his hand suddenly moved.

”No. I’m just embarrassed.” I nervously twist a hair at the nape of his neck didn’t realise the act just when I did it.

”You ran away because you were embarrassed yesterday too?” I stop toying with his hair once the words register in my head. Is he talking about the kitchen incident? And here I thought that there’s nothing more that could make the situation more awkward.

”Y-yes.” The confidence I felt before left me I shy away from his eyes the way he sized me up that day still vivid in my head.

”Why?” A perfect arch of his eyebrows indicating that he wants his answer this time and I am about to give him.

”Because you were staring at me.” I tell him oh so matter of factly. He practically beams at the offered answer the glint in his eyes telling me that’s the answer he seeks in the first place and he has his own set of words in return.

”Wanna know what I thought about while staring at you?” His eyes pinning me to my spot I wouldn’t dare to move away even if I wanted to he seemed determined to get under my skin and maybe under my clothes too.

”No.” I challenge drunk by the boldness maybe the gin tonic I consumed earlier and the wines finally appearing be to be the liquid courage I needed. Reading between the lines Yoongi tells me despite the answer.

”I imagined how you would look like wearing my shirt. It would cover you below your knees since you are tiny. Tell me you’re wearing one of those black panties I saw before?” I don’t answer but I let him pat my knee I can feel his warm palm under the fabric of my jeans he continues with more words even bolder than the first.

”I imagined how you would look like under me on my bed wrapping those long legs around my waist.” Affected by his words I mirror his hungry expression. He’s normally not a man of so many words and hearing him talk this much makes me feel special that he’s talking to me because he feels the need to let me know what’s plaguing his mind. I entertain the idea that maybe he wasn’t sure how to convey the message since I’m so shy he didn’t have a lot of opportunity cornering me before the kitchen incident. Perhaps it was the undo he needed.

”Tell me Y/N. Do you find me attractive?” His fingers stroke the flesh of my jaw he’s getting confident as I don’t push him away.

”You are attractive.” I tell him honestly and he grins but not in a malice kind of way his grin more like a boyish grin that boys wear after hearing that their high school crush likes them back. The happy kind of grin.

”Have you thought about me too? Like I did.” The next question hits differently it’s not so innocent and I wasn’t in the illusion he is.

”Yes.” Holding onto the boldness I agree.

”Tell me.” He urges. He’s sober I remember. Avoiding his stare I let my shyness getting to the best of me he brushes a strand of hair behind my ears coaxing out the reply. It feels nice to be touched by him.

”It’s embarrassing.”

”I told you mine. You have to tell me your fantasies so I can make them come true.” He trails a finger following the line of my collarbone my outfit leaves literally everything to the imagination the only skin he can feel is on my arms.

”You’re unfair.” I whine the words out Yoongi stops his movements to see the emotions behind my eyes. He seems confused by my conflicted expression. His eyes were always expressive and I loved staring at them. Those rare moments shared, eating together at the weekends letting me hear one of his song he proudly introduces.

”How so?”

I take a deep breath cupping his cheeks. ”You look good with dyed hair but I prefer it black. You look the best when you come home from work all sweaty because the air conditioner still not gotten repaired in your workplace so you always take a shower before doing anything else.” There’s glint catching the light in his orbs watching me closely while I tell him the things I locked away in my memories. He caresses my wrist with a raised hand the other directly resting upon mine as it's his face still trapped between the heels of my palms.

”I like your voice.” I let the words flow out like a river caught up in a thunderstorm. ”I always wanted to know how it would sound like moaning my name. I like your hands too.”

”What about them?” A big smile stretches his face knowing too well he won. I don’t feel the frustration of losing I’d gladly accept this fate again and again if it will give me the same results at the end of this.

”Yoongi.” I whine.

”Did you imagined this? Or this?” His hands leaving their position fondling the flesh on my hip hiding me behind his body he walks a hand up my decolletage.

”Stop, we are in public.” I hiss.

”No one pays attention Y/N. But I’ll gladly take this to the bedroom.” The offer temps me but I remember the boys.

”We can’t. You are the only sober one and the guys need their ride home.” I reason and Yoongi groans in frustration. He forgot about them already. He looks at the booth the others are drinking and laughing.

”If I tell Namjoon to stop drinking he would be sober enough to drive them back.”

I shake my head it would be too dangerous and considering he competed with Jungkook about who can take more shots I bet he’s drunk like a donkey alongside with the younger boy. ”I’m drunk too.” I tell him when he tries to come up with more solution.

”Fine.” Yoongi hugs me close probably to hide his displeased face doesn’t want to sound so desperate maybe he’s embarrassed.

”Don’t be like that. I promise if in the morning when I sobered up you still want to do it I’ll let you.”

He perks up gently pushing me away to look into my eyes. ”Let me do what?”

”Let you take me.”

***

I feel something warm tickling my sides a sudden wave of cold air hits my stomach but the cold soon replaced with a warm and wet feel against my skin. My eyes narrowly open I try to fidget away wrapping my fingers around the comforter when I feel that wet and warm feeling on my thighs.

Hands and tongue. The fog in front of my eyes clears I don’t remember when did I fell asleep or how did I end up here. Where am I? I spot the synthesizer in the corner Yoongi’s synthesizer. Yoongi’s room.

”Yoongi, what .. ah” My voice raspy from sleep the way he rubbed his nose into my neck just to deliver a long kiss to it after halted my question before I was able to voice it out.

”Did I wake you up. My bad.” He smiled into my skin loving the way my heart beats erratically with his every touch, his hand above my breast feeling the movements of it.

”You don’t sound so sorry about it.”

”Do you have a headache?” He caresses the side of my face helping to curl the locks behind my ear that interfered with my vision. The thoughtful gesture made me smile up at his face mirroring his expression of tenderness.

”No I’m good. I didn’t drink that much.” My fingers itch to touch his face maybe it’s because of the dreamy state I’m currently in that I have the confidence in doing so. I brush my hands through his bangs his eyes closing the caress urges a smile he grabs my hands once I’m about to pull away to move it against his mouth giving a small kiss onto my palm before intertwining them with his much larger ones.

I could get used to this. The image of him looking so raw and so vulnerable his eyes puffy with sleep lazy motions of his fingertip exploring my body under the duvet. My shirt is rolled up just below my breasts the shirt’s neck hangs around my shoulder in a loose coverage it smells like Yoongi just like the covers. Looking down I realise it’s not my shirt. It’s his.

”Glad to hear that. I want you to repeat your promise to me.” Yoongi burrows his face into my neck again his hair brushing against my bare skin the hand that’s not holding mine drops under the covers finding my hip guiding me to drape my right leg over his waist facing each other sideways.

”Promise? Can you be more specific?” I boldly move my hand caressing with feather-light touches his side I can feel his bare torso and hips under my fingers he shivers and not because of the cold. He’s shivering because I touched him and he’s not wearing a shirt. The thought crosses my mind that the shirt I’m wearing is the one he did wear the whole day but not now. Every other day I would be embarrassed but I quite liked the idea of wearing his clothes in his bed.

”A tease I see.” He recovered quicker than I would like he gave a quick peck onto my shoulder where his shirt didn’t cover that much skin. He cupped my breast above the fabric of my bra the sudden feel of him squeezing me there I whined a little bit too loudly. I pulled my hand away shielding my face due to embarrassment.

”Yoongi.” I shyly call his name. He let his hand stay there but he remained motionless giving my hands each a kiss just where my eyes would be if I didn’t hide behind my limbs. His hand felt warm against me where my bra wasn’t covering his two fingers rested directly on the skin of my breast.

”Do I have your consent baby?” I gulp my shy personality says no but my body says yes for me.

”You can have anything.” I place my palm against his that lays on my body my eyes still closed but I don’t shield my face anymore. The words came out as whispers even though I wanted him to hear me say it. I wanted him to go on.

”Love. Answer me.” I open my eyes again when I feel his hand leave my boobs to cup my face with it instead.

”You can have me. You can fuck me. Did it answer your question or should I be more specific?” I wet my lips poking my tongue against the inside of my cheeks trying to calm down the rapid movement of my heart my hands shook as I grip his hair moving my mouth against his to not just say but show my consent. I want this. I want him.

”No. I think it was explicit enough, I like seeing you blush.” Hearing him say that makes me blush harder and he gifts me with a gummy smile basking in the responsive reactions. I would be more embarrassed if I wouldn’t feel the sticky substance dampening my underwear.

”Do you have something in mind? A preference? Or can I surprise you.” The way he explicitly asks about my sexual preferences makes him appear hotter a new wave of arousal hits me making me grind my thighs together forgetting that Yoongi’s leg is between them. I know he felt the wetness but doesn’t comment on it he instead pushes his knees further up parting my legs.

”You d-decide.” I moan when his knee brushes against my crotch. He hummed delighted by my answer. Placing back his hand once more squeezing my breasts before undoing the clasps behind my back. He slowly lets the material fall he strictly looks into my eyes not wandering downwards seeking out my every reaction. I gave him a little nod he takes it as the permission he needed he moves the cover so he can take a look.

”So pretty.” He sighs into my skin he turns my body to be flat against the bed the cold sheets meeting with my back goosebumps travelling up my spine. ”So soft.” He mumbles the endless of praises dragging his fingers over a nipple before licking it with his tongue a choked moan leaves my parted lips his hair gently caressing the skin. He circles the nipple with his poked out tongue kneading the other neglected one with his free hand. Mewls and sighs, in turn, filling the room trying to keep my voice quiet but it’s hard since the only thing I can concentrate on is his mouth on me and his hands those long fingers as he drags them down on my body a finger slides under the waistband of my panty he stretches the material out before letting it snap back into place. The uncomfortable feeling of it sticking to my folds gets frustrating by every passing minute.

”You smell good.” His raspy voice helps me return from my sudden astonishment I scrape his scalp with my long nails as I weave my fingers through his hair he lets out a low growl my skin covering up the noise the vibration he sends up my body by it makes me tighten my legs around his waist my underwear covered cunt pressed against his firm chest forces a not so silent whine out.

”It’s m-my lotion.” I reply absentmindedly. He hums into my collarbone not sure my answer registered truly in his brain I feel him taking a big inhale before pulling away he pushes himself up with the help of his hands planted beside my head looking with heavily lidded eyes taking in my hazed eyes and swollen lips before connecting our mouths. I almost forgot how good of a kisser Yoongi is.

The light touch against my inner thigh makes my hip jolt up in surprise Yoongi’s eager mouth swallows all the sounds and whimpers. ”Relax.” He purrs aiming for my hips soothing circles into my skin. I take a few deep breaths Yoongi waits patiently for me to calm down a little the way his eyes sizing me up like I’m some kind of goddess eases some of my nerves. Once he’s positive I’m not going to run away he lets his palm touch me the barrier that’s my underwear stays in place as he drags his fingers directly onto my heat. I feel it throb under his ministrations having confidence after a few moans I let out he gets bolder using more pressure to dip between my folds the underwear’s silky touch lets him move smoothly. ”Can I feel it? I want to make sure you’re wet enough before I do anything else.” Nodding even before the question was fully out I anticipate a laugh or something to tease me about my eagerness. I don’t think I wanted someone this bad before to touch me. But he doesn’t laugh he seems as eager as I feel. He slides a finger under the damp material but he retreats too soon. ”Please, can I take it off?” To persuade me further if his plea wasn’t enough he rubs his fingers where my clit is over my panty. The plea was enough but I’m not complaining. I manage to signal him with a breathy yes. Don’t have to tell him twice he slides the ruined material down my legs his big warm hands gripping my inner thighs preventing my legs from closing before he can take a look.

”Look at that. So pink and swollen for me.” Previously he was careful with every move waiting for approval before doing anything bold but like he’s lost all the continence in him Yoongi drags two fingers up my folds coating his fingers with my arousal letting just the tip of his fingers penetrating just to pull back. I let out the loudest moan blushing as I realise just how loud I sounded but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, not at all. He wanted to coax more of those sounds as he bent down parting the lips with his tongue letting out his own moans while tasting me and if it’s even possible at this point I feel more turned on than ever.

”Warm too. Sorry, my love, my hands are a little cold but I hope you don’t mind.” He finally slips a finger in my eyes slightly open he watches me with a grin loving the way I squirm wanting it chuckles deep and I don’t mind at all. The stretch his one digit means feels familiar reminding me when I was chasing relief on my own but his fingers are so so much better longer and thicker. I can’t wait to feel the second one.

”I want to make you cum on my tongue.” Delivering a kittenish lick sucking on my clit for the demonstration before he goes on. ”Just to bring you another orgasm with my fingers.” Yoongi curls the one finger in me rubbing it into my throbbing walls ”Lastly let you cum around my cock.” He throws his head back moaning sinfully just thinking he’s about to make everything he said come true. ”You deserve at least three orgasms but I shouldn’t be greedy your virgin cunt can’t handle three.” He eases another finger in this time the stretch is a bit more uncomfortable.

”Let’s start with two.” He says settled with the idea he places a wet kiss onto my hip before finding my abused clit again sucking and rolling it around his tongue my walls contacts around his two digits I feel the sticky substance coating my inner thighs and dripping onto the sheets the mess, the way Yoongi’s hair tickle my thighs, the way he moves his fingers inside me, the pleasure gets overwhelming something starts to build up promising a relief I never had the chance of feeling before.

”Yoongi fuck, Yoongi” His name spills from my mouth and it seems to encourage him to be faster.

”It’s fine.” He tells before sucking harshly on my clit. ”Cum for me.” The proud grin he forms still buried between my legs and the vibration of his hum makes my legs shake I let my head fall back into the pillows closing my eyes until I see literal stars.

He stops lapping my juices once I’m finished the proud smile still plastered on his face licking his lips capturing the remaining of my pleasure. He looks so hot. I never knew I’m capable of coming this hard.

”Good?” Placing a kiss onto my nose he caresses my arms I didn’t realise I was grabbing onto the sheets this tight I let Yoongi place my hands onto his shoulder blades he moves to get between my legs once more.

Instead of answering, I can’t help but impatiently point out. ”You’re still wearing clothes.” I grab his hips pulling on his sweatpants playfully.

”Wanna take it off?” He asks smirking. I roll my eyes at his cockiness not that he’s all talk when it comes to his skills but he has more ego than he can manage and I’m not going to increase it for him.

”So what? Don’t tell me you are not eager even more than me to bury your dick into my virgin pussy.” His eyes grow bigger for a split second before it regains its original state, so he can be startled too. I’m surprised by my boldness, but god, it’s worth it seeing him so fucked up by those words.

”You’re playing a dangerous game Y/N. I need my self-control right now.” Something shifted in his eyes he looks like he’s about to devour me. Yoongi shifts onto his knees to get rid of the final barriers between us. I close my eyes my shyness returns too soon but Yoongi doesn’t mind it I open my eyes again as he positions myself above me placing a firm kiss onto my lips he senses I’m anxious.

”Do you trust me?” Seeing the open vulnerability in his shiny orbs, not entirely clouded by lust makes my head swim with a lot of suppressed emotion. I feel the urge to smile lifting my head from the pillows beneath me I give him a peck.

”Of course I am.” I kinda like you. I bite into my lips before the next sentence could slip through we’ll talk about this another time. Right, the only thing I want to focus on is Yoongi. Only Yoongi. His tip brushes against my stomach, shit, I haven’t seen how big he is. His lip pressed to mine swallows the tiny moan leaving my lips as he pushes the first inch inside parting my walls in a painful stretch. Fuck. He’s big.

”Tight.” Yoongi moans, more in pleasure than I am currently in but it’s ok. He made me cum I want to see him cum too. ”Relax for me angel I won’t hurt you I promise.” Relishing in the way he caresses my side I try to relax my body he pushes another inch in slowly his tip must be fully buried by now.

”That’s right. You’re doing so well.” He praises his eyebrows knit together in concentration he’s holding himself back because of me. Touched by the gesture I move my hip to meet his advances he slips in deeper than he intended his groan significantly louder by the sudden pleasure.

”Does it hurt?” He pulls himself together to keep the eye contact he caresses the skin under my eye I nod before answering.

”A little.”

”Let’s try a few more thrusts if it still hurts after that I’ll stop and eat you out again. Shit. Maybe I should have made you cum again for the extra lubrication.” Yoongi regretfully gazes at my face.

”It’s fine. Just go slow.” I say the burning is bearable I’m getting used to the feeling slowly but not sure if I can cum again.

”My baby is so tight.” I’m definitely a sucker for those pet names. It helps me focus on his words instead of his slow thrusts. ”I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. Feeling you wrapped around me a dream come true.” I experimentally squeeze around him and he lets out a loud moan his head nestled into my neck groaning and moaning between filthy words his pace got quicker but I don’t stop him even though it’s not feeling as good as him eating me out. I want to please him though and by the sounds, he seems very pleased.

”Are you alright?” He stops after hearing a louder whiny moan on my part but I don’t let him I circle my hips in place dragging out moans from him but he forces himself to reset his previous slower pace. I’m not having any of it. I want him to cum and want it soon.

”Yoongi” I whine out his name an idea foggily forming at the back of my head. ”Yoongi, I wanna ride you.”

”Are y-you sure?” He stills inside of me waiting for the confirmation and I nod inviting him into a kiss that turns slopy by time. I feel his hands grabbing at my waist to change position this way he sinks in deeper.

Holy shit it feels so much better.

”Fuck. Do you like this?” He grips my hips dragging his cock touching every sensitive part in me as my walls swallow his shaft he pulls me up just to let me sink down with a needy moan I’m starting to feel the appeal.

”Yes. I-ah-think.” I can almost picture the way my eyes roll back behind my skull right now. What was I saying? ”Go faster.” I choke out and Yoongi with a following set of groans obligates I’m too far gone to pay attention to how Yoongi watches with hungry eyes that I ruin the bedsheets.

”I like that you are so messy.” He places a stray hair behind my ears our chests pressed together so he can thrust up faster and harder. Yoongi holds me in place taking control the way his eyes shuts involuntarily and his member twitching inside of me signals that he’s close.

He’s breathtakingly beautiful as he reaches his high he’s so lost in the pleasure my walls provide so tight around him that he doesn’t have the mind to kiss me back so I just press them together for a minute longer. My legs ache because of the exercise but I let him use me to ride out his high the pretty sounds and satisfied look he gives me once seated firmly inside me with our mixed cum spilling out he looks down where our body connects rubbing the skin of my hip lovingly while watching me ruin his sheets. He likes that I’m messy.

”I hope you like me back because I don’t think I could fuck anyone else from now on.” I end up in a pit of laughter leaning my head on his shoulder he feels my body shake with the motion Yoongi whines in overstimulation when I accidentally squeeze his spent member. I peck the skin where my head previously rested before searching for Yoongi’s eyes.

”I do like you back.” I admit it shyly even though there’s nothing to be shy about his dick is still inside for fuck’s sake.

”Glad to hear that.” His grin returns faster than the speed of light. ”I thought I fucked your brains out when you suddenly started laughing. I was concerned for a minute.” I try to hit his shoulder but he’s faster grabbing my hand by the wrist and gives the flesh an attentive kiss the gesture is sweet and melts my heart.

”How are you feeling?” It’s cute how he seeks my reassurance. He lets me move away careful when pulling out so I can finally take the previous position lying down.

”Hm, sore but good. I just need .. some time. I don’t think I can stand up just yet.” I offer my honest reply burying my nose into the duvet that got tossed aside. He leaves the room making me confused but once he’s back with a towel in hand I pierce two and two together. It’s his towel. The thought is enough to make me blush furiously.

”Spread your legs for me.” I take the request as an order shyly spreading my legs so he can clean me up. ”There. All cleaned up.” The bed squeaks under the weight of his one knee pushing me further into the sheets. Yoongi bows down to kiss me his tongue teases my lips as we kiss asking for permission that I eagerly permit.

#btsghostie #yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts university au #bts roommates au

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

With My Life - Chapter One

masterlist - ao3 - next chapter

an: i kinda, i kinda have a new project oop 😳 enjoy

warnings: (all graphic) violence, gun violence, blood, smut, implied PTSD

summary: A simple mission, that’s all it was. Get in, get the list, get out and be home in time for dinner. But life doesn’t always work that way, does it? Now, it’s six months later and a war brews, one they all know might wipe countries off the face of the earth, and the only thing he has to show for the mission is a bullet wound that supposedly killed him and the wrath of a woman who wished he’d just die and stay dead, but then again… Lorcan Salvaterre never did like to listen.

The Varese sun had barely begun to rise in the pale blue sky when he woke up. He remained still, keeping his breath deep and even as he looked around the room.

Seeing that everything was as it should be, it seemed as though Lorcan Salvaterre had lived to see another day. With a soft groan and a stretch, Lorcan kissed his bedmate’s cheek and brushed her dark hair back before he got out of bed.

He stooped to pull on the shorts that had been carelessly discarded the previous evening and padded into his bathroom.

After using the amenities, Lorcan looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, deciding it was probably time to shave. Opening the mirror cabinet, Lorcan gathered his shaving supplies and quietly shut the door, not wanting to disturb the woman in his bed.

A couple years back, for his birthday, he’d received an old-time shaving kit from Fenrys and Connall, who had claimed it was the only fitting gift for a scruffy old bastard like himself. They’d both received sharp swat to the head for the comment and he had vowed to throw it out as soon as he got home. Of course, he didn’t do that and had become partial to it. The twins were never to find out and it was a secret Lorcan would take to the grave.

As far as those two pups were concerned, Lorcan was still using some random shaving cream from the can and a cheap disposable razor from the store.

He’d just finished lathering the lower half of his face and jawline when the door was pushed open and in stumbled Elide Lochan, still half asleep as she buttoned up his dress shirt.

Upon seeing him, she paused, her lovely monolid-shaped eyes flicking over his half-covered face and the straight razor in his hand. Then, a cheeky grin spread over her plush and plump lips and she said, her already low voice hoarse with sleep, “You really are an old bastard, huh?”

Lorcan chuckled and put the blade down, tracking her movements in the mirror as she walked in and hopped up onto the sink counter. “I’ve been told.”

Elide smiled and fluffed her short, collarbone length hair. Her smile and her gaze softened as she tilted her head to the side, completely happy to sit while he got ready for work.

“Do me a favour, love,” Lorcan said, his voice low and his accent adding a rolling lilt to his words, slotting himself between her legs.

“Hmm? What is it?” She opened her eyes when she felt the cool tortoiseshell handle of the razor in her palm. Lorcan held it for her, his eyes open and honest. “Me?”

“You.”

Elide’s eyes widened and she glanced up at him, seeing that he was utterly serious. “You trust me?”

“With my life, Elide,” he told her, meaning every word.

Elide took the razor from him and rolled her eyes, flicking it open and fitting her fingers along the shank. She clicked her tongue, “So dramatic. It’s just a shave, Salvaterre.”

Lorcan hummed and leaned his head to the side, eyes on Elide as she bit her lip in concentration and held the wicked sharp blade up to right beneath his cheekbone. “Short strokes, Lochan.”

Her worried eyes turned to his and Lorcan gripped her thighs, rubbing soothing circles into her skin with his thumbs. Lorcan dipped his chin in a slight nod and his gaze tracked her eyes as she moved the razor in short, even motions.

After a few moments, she wiped the blade off on a towel and went back to the task at hand, decidedly ignoring his heavy gaze on her. “Stop staring at me like that,” she muttered, tapping his chin back to drag the razor down his sharp jawline. “Don’t want me to have an accident, do we now?”

She menacingly held the rounded tip of the razor to his throat, wearing a fierce frown. Lorcan bit back his laugh and held his hands up, “Nah, nah, do your thing.” He pressed his lips together to avoid smiling, but his eyes glittered with mirth.

Elide clicked her tongue again and continued, occasionally pausing to wipe the blade. At some point, she started humming unconsciously and tilted his chin back, “Stay still.”

Lorcan did as he was told and hardly breathed as she carefully pulled the blade over the front of his throat. Then, with a relieved sigh, she put it down and smiled as she picked up a damp cloth and patted his face. “Pretty good job for stress relief, huh?”

As the words hit him, Lorcan froze and inhaled sharply. “What did you say?”

Elide arched a manicured brow, slowly putting the cloth down. “...stress relief? That’s what I am, what we are to each other. It’s just sex.”

He hesitated, the words threatening to spill out of his mouth, but he managed to hold himself back and carefully said, “You know you mean more to me than fucking, E.”

Elide hummed and picked up the bottle of aftershave, screwing off the cap and dumping some into her hand. Lorcan made an irritated sound in the back of his throat, dropping his head down low. “Lochan... it’s not just the sex to me. I need you to know that. You matter to me, alright?”

He lifted his head when she said nothing and Elide shook her head subtly and patted his cheeks, softly rubbing the balm over his smooth skin. “Lorcan...”

He tried a different angle, pulling her hands away and squeezing her wrists gently. “El, I want to talk with you, but I have to get to work. Stay here today. We’ll go out tonight and- fuck–”

“L, L, calm down. Go to work, we’ll figure it out tonight, yeah?” She cupped his face in her hands and tilted her chin up, kissing the scar that ran down from his hairline and sliced through his left eyebrow. “It’ll be fine.”

Lorcan smiled and leaned down, kissing her lips once, twice, three times, until she was laughing quietly. “You’ll stay here today?”

“Mm-hmm, right here. I’ll snoop through everything and find out all your secrets, Salvaterre.”

A low laugh rumbled through his chest and Lorcan kissed her once more, nipping her full bottom lip before pulling away and looking in the mirror. “Wow, nice job, princess.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she hissed as he lifted her off the counter.

“I didn’t hear any complaints last night,” he said as she turned away. Lorcan tugged her back against his front and leaned down, pressing his lips to the back of her neck. “Princess.”

Elide huffed and shoved him away, crossing her arms tightly, “Yeah, well, last night was different, dickhead.”

“Different? How?”

A sly smirk curled her lips and Elide slowly backed away into his bedroom, “Well, for starters, it was a much different setting and I recall fewer clothes, but you know, silly me might be remembering something wrong.” She ran her fingers over the buttons of his shirt that she had plucked from his closet, toying with the top clasp before popping it open, just enough that he saw the swell of her breasts. “Would you be a darling and help me, please? Help your princess?”

Lorcan shook his head and gripped the edge of the marble counter, biting his cheek hard enough that blood bloomed across his tongue.

Elide cackled, throwing her head back as she laughed and laughed, delighting herself in his misery. Lorcan shook his head again and muttered to himself in his native language, stalking out the bathroom and hip-checking her on the way to his closet. “You’re a fuckin’ menace, Lochan.”

He opened the closet doors and looked through the row of dark coloured suits, just reaching for a navy blue one as a set of slim arms slid around his waist and Elide kissed the skin between his shoulder blades. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, baby.”

She wasn’t wrong.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide was watching him carefully as he put his Glock 19’s in his shoulder holster, a worried frown bunching up her brows. After securing his guns, Lorcan approached her, dutifully standing still as she fussed over the storm-grey tie he’d just tied perfectly.

She glanced up at him and tucked her lip between her teeth. “Be careful, ok?” She looked like she had more to say but held her tongue.

“Always, princess,” he quipped, holding his tie to his stomach as he bent to kiss her freckled cheek. “I’ll be safe, love. I promise.”

“Heard that before,” she accused him. The memory of him in the supposed hit and run accident was still bright in her mind, it seemed. Interesting. If only she knew what had really happened.

“I mean it this time,” he whispered, winking as he shrugged on his suit jacket. The dark navy colour contrasted beautifully with his russet complexion, soaking up the sun and setting the world aglow, the same way his black dress shirt made her pale, alabaster tone brighten until it looked like the full moon gleaming around him.

Lorcan did mean it this time, more than any other time he’d said it. Tonight, tonight he would tell Elide that he loved her. That he was in love with her, that he had been since that early morning he’d been tailing a gun runner into a café and this tiny, firecracker of a woman, told him he could sit at her paper and laptop crowded table.

He’d taken the seat and he’d almost let the man walk out of the store unnoticed because he’d been too distracted staring at her gorgeous fucking face and by her, Elide.

“What should I wear tonight?”

“Hmm? Tonight?”

Elide laughed, “For dinner.”

Dinner. Oh. Dinner-dinner.

“Um, I don’t know, a fancy dress?”

“Ooh, fancy?”

Lorcan chuckled and wrapped his arms around her petite waist, his hands splayed across her lower back as he dipped her. He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against her, brushing his lips over hers before he whispered, “Very, very fancy, princess.” Then, he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her, kissed her until she needed a moment to breathe and collect herself.

He ruined the moment by grabbing her ass and laughing as he stood them up straight. Elide rolled her eyes, raising up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Stay safe for me, ok?”

Lorcan buttoned his one-button and cupped the side of her neck in one hand, stroking his thumb over her jaw. “I swear I will. Have a good day, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll try,” she said quietly, turning to finger his cufflinks and brush her fingertips over the outline of the gun beneath his arm.

“Bye, princess.”

“Get out of here, stupid,” she whispered, grinning as they both backed up and then turned, her to run back to his bed, and Lorcan to the front door of his apartment.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Lorcan perused the aisle of cars in the garage, looking at every single one with exact scrutiny until he reached his - a sleek, black Aston Martin DB5. He let out a large breath as he sat behind the driver’s wheel. He just hoped today was an easy one. He needed easy.

Pulling out of the parking garage, he nodded once at the security guards as he drove onto the busy street. Even early in the morning, Varese was already bustling, and he suspected it had something to do with the burning sun. The city tended to be busiest in the morning and late afternoon, calming down when the sun was at its highest point.

He drove in silence, not turning on the radio to let himself think, to slip into the mindset he needed for his job.

A few short minutes later, he pulled up in front of a nondescript building, slightly shorter than the ones surrounding it and kind of drab. Its concrete walls had once been a refreshing white along the coastline of Varese, but now it was a sickly beige colour.

Lorcan looked up and down the street before stepping out of the car and locking it. No one looked his way as he crossed the road, reading the sign beside the front doors. Cadre Private Security.

The plaque always had a glimmer of something bright in his chest, be it quiet amusement at the front or a sense of belonging or even a familial love, that no matter where, the cadre would always be one.

He pulled the tinted glass doors open and walked through the stiflingly hot lobby, over the dirty and scuffed tiled floor. Hellas below, he understood that pretenses needed to be kept, but the no air conditioning was horrid.

Lorcan pressed the elevator button, feeling it click and whir gently as the technology recognized his fingerprint.

He waited patiently for the elevator to stop and when it did, it was empty like always. Lorcan stepped in and subtly punched in the code that would grant him access to the restricted levels, far beneath the surface of the earth.

The elevator shot down smoothly, going past the parking garages and other underground levels. He knew that there were cameras and other biometrics scanning him and that if he didn’t have the authority to access the hidden levels, the ride would stop at the lowest parking level.

Lorcan watched the level numbers glow green and stood still as the elevator came to a gentle stop and the doors slid open automatically.

The moment he stepped out of the elevator, he was greeted by cool air and sighed in relief. He despised the heat.

Lorcan walked across the laminate floor, nodding a hello to the receptionist sitting at the desk. “Good morning, Philippa.”

“Good morning, Agent Salvaterre.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez

#with my life #wml chapter one #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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katattacktime · 3 years

Text

Self Care (Asmo x GN!Reader)

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NSFW, V Soft, making love

4,400 ish words

I haven’t written in like 8 years and this was written all at once until like 4 in the morning because Asmo Simping Hours

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It had been a long, long week at RAD. You arrived back at the House of Lamentation and trudged through the entrance hall to your room. Every step weighed heavier as the exhaustion set into your bones. You took your bag and unceremoniously dumped it on the table in your room, a heavy thunk from overstuffed tomes and clinking of writing utensils rolling against each other. You let out a deep sigh, shuffled over to your bed, and flopped face down, letting out a groan as your shoulders relaxed at the promise of the weekend to look forward to.

You pulled your DDD out of your pocket and scrolled through your notifications. Group chats with new messages, a missed text from Satan asking if you’d seen the book he’d started last night followed by a “Never mind. Found it.” less than a minute after. A few notifications from the popular Devildom social media sites. Devilgram in particular seemed to be booming tonight; demons ramping up for a Friday night of parties and drinking to celebrate the well-earned break.

A soft knock sounded at your door. You sat up and jerked your head away from your phone toward the intruder.

Asmodeus leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, eyes raking up and down taking in your appearance.

“You,” he said pointedly, “look like you could use a self-care night.”

You could feel your cheeks get warm at his assessment. “Is it really that bad?”

Asmo chuckled good-naturedly.

“No, dear. I promise. I would never let you walk around like that without telling you, no, but, I did see you walk in here like a zombie and heard you toss everything related to school as far away from you as possible.” He grinned.

You groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t starting from nothing with magic and knowledge of the three realms in general,” you pouted.

“Well, what do you say you and I go relax in my room? It takes work to stay this pretty for my admirers and I’ve got a new bath bomb I’ve been dying to try out. Company as pretty as me will make it that much more enjoyable,” he flirted.

“Hmmmm. I dunno—“ you drawled. You flashed a smile at him and coyly pretended to consider your options. “In all seriousness though, how would we do that without being disturbed? I love you and your brothers dearly, but you all have a habit of causing problems for each other at the worst moments.” You grimaced at the thoughts of all the quiet moments you’d had with each of them that had been suddenly ruined by an ill-timed appearance of someone else.

Asmo smiled, “I have good news for you then. It’s just you and me home tonight.”

“What? Really? Where did everyone else go?”

“Lucifer got called to some meeting at the castle. Apparently they forgot something while at the council meeting earlier,” he counted on his fingers for each brother he named, “One of Mammon’s witches called him for something last minute. Satan is holing himself up at the library with Solomon until really late tonight. Supposedly, they found something or other in a manuscript that could ‘change the concept of curses as we know it.” He rolled his eyes and continued. “The twins are at Hell’s Kitchen with Levi. Levi lost a bet with Belphie, and now he’s paying the price, literally.” He grinned and held up six fingers to you. “So that just leaves you and me! And I was in charge of dinner tonight anyways, so this works out in my favor too that no one is here,” he stated.

You chuckled. “I am always impressed with how up-to-date with everything you seem to be,” you complimented. “I would love to have a self-care night with you tonight, Asmo.”

Asmo smiled broadly and you could swear a blush dusted his face before he turned to lead you into the kitchen situated next to your room.

“I figure we might as well order in tonight, my treat, since it’s just us two. No point in messing up the kitchen, and we can get started that much sooner.” He grabbed a few menus from under a magnet on the side of the fridge and spread them out on the butcher block island in the center.

“What are you hungry for? I was thinking we get something from that little restaurant across the street from Madame Scream’s and follow up with some dessert from Madame Scream’s too. Maybe some bufo egg tea to sip on while we’re at it?”

You looked down at the menus spread out before you and considered for a moment. “Sounds good to me!”

Asmo pulled out his phone and called both places to make your orders while you gathered up the menus and set them back under the magnet on the side of the fridge. You piped in here and there as needed, but soon enough, your food was ordered, on its way, and at the front door ready for you. You helped Asmo bring it in, while he made small talk with the delivery guys and shut the door.

He grabbed some of the bags from you and gestured for you to lead the way.

“After you,” he said politely.

You smiled at him and you two sauntered into the dining room to eat together. Asmo, being ever attentive, made sure to ask about your week and if there was anything he could help with, complained about the work load at RAD, and gossiped about who was throwing parties and who wasn’t.

When you asked why he wasn’t out and about, he waved his hand in dismissal stating that even he needed a night off every now and then. He grabbed a cupcake out of the box of sweets you’d ordered from Madame Scream’s.

“If I went out and partied every night, my skin would never forgive me. That and sometimes I get tired of being in big crowds too. I have my parties that I host a couple of nights a month anyways, so I can’t let everyone be oversaturated by my presence. Then I become boring, and that just wouldn’t be fair to my admirers,” he explained.

You hummed in acknowledgment and swallowed the last bite of the sweet you’d ordered. “Well, I’m glad you’re here with me. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been suddenly alone.”

Asmo smiled at you and the both of you stood up to clear the table.

You thought about what your night might have turned out to be had he gone out instead of staying in. You’d completed your homework earlier before you got home. You could have watched a movie, scrolled on your DDD endlessly, maybe dressed yourself up just because you could. Your face heated when you realized that if no one had been home you could have spent hours unwinding in another, more carnal way with yourself without worrying if someone would interrupt. It had been a while.

If Asmo noticed the blush on your cheeks, he didn’t say anything, instead opting to usher you by your room for pajamas and through his room to the bathroom for your joint pampering session. He snapped his fingers and lit the candles in the room to create a dim, calming atmosphere.

“So,” he began, “I’m going to gather everything together in one place and pick some things out for you. It’ll take me a bit because I want to make sure everything I pick will suit your skin well, and I have to fill the bath and figure out where I put that bath bomb. We’re not going to do anything tonight that you don’t want to do, so if you really just can’t stand the texture or smell of something let me know, we can skip it or I can find a substitute.” He pointed a look over to a countertop filled with organized bottles and containers. “I have plenty to choose from.”

He turned and walked to the glass-paned french doors that lead into his closet, opening them and disappearing inside the mood lit room for a moment. He returned with two soft, silky, cream robes and matching slippers.

“I need you to hop your lovely self into the shower and get clean. I need a clean canvas to work with so that everything will soak in better.”

He shot a flirtatious look at you. “I would join you but I’m afraid we wouldn’t get anywhere with our pampering night unless you wanted me to pamper you another way.”

“Maybe once my muscles don’t feel like knots,” you acquiesced and blushed at the innuendo.

Asmo grinned and exchanged the pajamas from your arms for a robe and slippers and pointed you over to the walk-in shower behind him. A half wall with a glass partition and glass door separated it from the rest of the bathroom.

“Everything you need should be in there. There’s even a fresh razor should you want to shave anything and I just changed out the washcloths last night, so everything is new. There’s a sugar scrub on the shelf in the wall and a bunch of other things you can feel free to test.”

The shower itself was easily as spacious as his bath. Smooth, unbroken, white marble formed the walls with a tiled ceiling. Plenty of room for several people to enjoy the steamy water and relax. A tiled bench stood prominently in the center of the shower room (as you were now calling it) for resting under the stream of the rainfall shower positioned above it. Towels sat rolled neatly on a shelf by the entrance.

You placed the robe and slippers onto the shelf and stripped down. You neatly folded your uniform and placed it aside, unsure what to do with it otherwise.

You turned and made your way deeper into the room to the knobs on the wall, fiddling with them to figure out what turned on where when you messed with them. You found a hot, soothing temperature you could bear and stood under the stream, melting away the knots in your shoulders and back.

Curiosity overtook you and you took your time to explore his products as you relaxed. A couple you even decided to pamper yourself with since he so graciously offered. You cleaned yourself as you normally did when you weren’t rushed for time and shut off the valves when you finished, toweling dry.

You peered through the glass partition over the half wall into the rest of the bathroom. Asmo, dressed in his cream robe and slippers, had poised on the rim of his tub while you showered. He watched the water fill the bath and swirl the bath bombs and flower petals he had dropped in. You shrugged on the robe, tying it loosely in front of you, and placed your feet in the slippers before opening the glass door leading out.

Asmo glanced up at you and raked his gaze across your frame. Soft music played from a speaker he’d set up.

“As beautiful as ever,” he commented appreciatively. He shut off the water and removed himself from the side of the bath. He grabbed a tray of items he’d gathered.

“Feel free to go through these and remove anything you don’t like. The bath is ready, and I’ll join you as soon as I’m done showering.” He strutted toward the shower, but you grabbed his arm before he passed.

“Thank you, Asmo. Really.” You leaned toward him and pressed a chaste kiss on the cheek of the Avatar of Lust. “This all really means a lot to me.”

Asmo looked down at you in surprise, a deep, coral blush painted across his face. He lifted his hand to where you’d kissed his cheek and looked away.

“Y-you’re welcome. Of course I’d do something as simple as this,” he gestured to the room around him, “People as beautiful as us have to make sure we stay that way, right?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him softly and walked away from him toward the tray to go through the items he selected.

Asmo stood there for a second longer than he intended, watching you languidly make your way through his bathroom, completely relaxed around him. His heart swelled as he watched you take an interest in the things he’d spent so much time curating with you in mind. He turned toward the shower before he couldn’t bear to be away from your side any longer, determined to continue with the night on your terms when you were ready.

You untied the robe and gently set it on the side of the tub, sitting beside the silky, folded fabric and kicking off the slippers next to the tub. You swung your legs over the edge and lowered yourself into the warm, cloudy light pink water. Specks of gold glitter rolled around your legs as you disturbed the bath, yellow petals swirling gently on top. The scent of chamomile, honey, and almond milk wafted up as you sunk in.

You settled yourself onto the bench encircling the bath and stretched your arms high above your head, before resting them on the edge behind you, enjoying the contrast between the warm bath and cool, smooth tile. You closed your eyes and laid your head back against a pillar and dozed.

Asmo emerged from the shower, his robe draped over his shoulders and towel wrapped around his hips. He walked to the bath across from where you’d situated. Your eyes opened slightly to acknowledge him, and you smiled sweetly at him before patting the top of the water to invite him in with you.

He peeled off the robe, dropped the towel to the floor, and stepped over the side of the tub, humming contentedly as the water rose above his hips up to his waist and chest. The water swirled around him as he waded to the tray of items he’d collected and picked one up: a small blue glass container filled with some sort of face mask.

“I wanted to start us out easy with something simple. This is a mask good for exfoliating and brightening your skin. It’s had a ton of rave reviews and I’ve used it for a while,” he explained.

Asmo scooped some product out with his fingers and warmed it in his palms. He gently smoothed a layer onto your face and settled next to you as you sat up to do the same for him.

You rubbed the mask between your fingertips and swiped long, tender touches over his forehead, nose, and warm cheeks. Asmo leaned into your touch; a soft sigh escaped his lips. He gazed into your eyes as you studied his face, fingers memorizing every plane.

Your fingers dipped back below the water’s surface to find his hand and hold it between yours, rubbing loving circles over his knuckles. You brought his hand to your lips and kissed it softly before resting your head on his shoulder.

He pressed a kiss into your hair and grabbed your hand back, intertwining your fingers together. You enjoyed each other’s presence and touch. Asmo quietly hummed to whatever song played on his speaker into your hair.

You washed the masks off your faces and continued going through the tray of serums and essences Asmo selected for the both of you, giggling together when you pinched each other’s cheeks or booped his nose. Playfulness came easy with him. All the stress from the week had sloughed off your shoulders thanks to his caring and attentiveness.

When you were done, the water had cooled. Asmo stood and pulled the plug from the drain and stepped out. He grabbed your robe and extended his hand back to you to help you out, throwing your robe over your nakedness as soon as you were safely out.

“What we do from here is up to you,” he stated. He rested his hand on the back of his neck and tried not to stare too much as you adjusted your robe, watching your reaction as he put on his own robe and deftly tried to cover his growing problem. “We can get in pajamas and watch something together or, if you want to do something else, we could do that instead.”

You thought for a moment. The bath ended almost too soon for your liking. You still wanted to be held and enjoy his company, not to mention the warmth that had pooled in your belly from being so innocently intimate and affectionate with him. You looked up at his expectant face, waiting for a response.

“I think I’d like to touch you some more and actually show you how much fun tonight has been for me and how much I appreciate all this.” you answered. “Lotion would be a good place to start.” You blushed and looked away from him. His gaze quickly heated at your suggestion.

“I don’t know if I can keep my hands off of you if you do that,” he warned.

“Good, because I don’t want you to keep your hands off me.”

Asmo leveled his gaze with you and nodded his head. He turned to the countertop to grab a bottle, taking a second to compose himself. As much as he wanted to ravish you this very second and have you moaning his name under him, he wanted even more for you to relax and feel cherished and important.

He pulled away from the counter, bottle acquired, and placed his hand on your lower back, steering you out to his room. You nestled into his shoulder almost self-consciously and grabbed the lotion from him before you could consider otherwise.

“On the bed,” you instructed.

Asmo grinned at you as he followed your command punctuated by a flirtatious comment. “Only if you join me.”

You smiled back, joining him and kneeling on the bed in front of him. The dusty pink sheets of his bed were soft and cool. You could picture yourself spending hours in them.

You looked down at your robes, the only thing interrupting your progress. “We should probably get rid of these for what I have planned,” you commented.

Asmo chuckled and undid the ties holding the fabric closed on both of you, while you popped the cap open on the lotion bottle. You dispensed some into your hand after he’d discarded your robe and held the bottle out to him, waiting for him to hold out his palm for you to give him some as well. Rubbing your hands together awakened the fragrance and warmed the cold substance. It smelled bright and pleasant and soothing, just what you needed.

Starting at each other’s chests, you smoothed the lotion into tense muscle and along collarbones and shoulders. You traveled down arms and sides, being careful of ticklish spots and sore spots alike. You looked down between you at Asmo’s growing member, watching it engorge as you skimmed your fingers over sensitive areas. You moved closer to him, legs spreading to either side of his knees, and wrapped your arms around his neck, trailing light kisses up his chest as you massaged your hands into the top of his shoulders and back.

Asmo pulled you closer to him, hand trailing up your back, watching you in awe as you shivered at his affection and showered him with love. He captured your lips as you pulled away from one of the many kisses you’d peppered against his chest. He cupped the back of your head and angled you so he could kiss you deeper, harder, unsure of how to describe the fluttering and warmth in his chest but determined to show you.

You moaned into his lips and pressed yourself as close as you could, rocking against him, making him hiss in pleasure and ball his fist in your hair. The action sent more electricity to your core. He cupped your ass and helped you grind against him.

He laid you back against the pillows, hands resting on either side of your face and dipped in for another kiss which you enthusiastically returned. He leaned over to his nightstand and opened the drawer, grabbing some items and setting them on the sheets before returning to hover over you.

He pressed his forehead against yours and kissed you deeply once more. Rose gold eyes met with your own and searched for any sign of hesitation. “Should I continue?”

“Yes, more, please,” you breathed.

He kissed you once more on your lips. His hands trailed down your body, appreciating every inch you had allowed him to see. Deft fingers pinched and rolled your nipples as he began kissing a path down your jaw and neck, nipping and kissing particularly at the sensitive spot under your ear. You could feel the light trace of teeth as he sucked marks into your collarbone, soothing them with a press of his tongue. You mewled at every kiss and bite and touch he gave you.

He moved further down and trailed kisses over your tummy until his face hovered above your heat. You felt his breath ghost over you, teasing, causing you to clench and twitch beneath him, watching him carefully in anticipation. His eyes flicked up to you and he grinned at your rapt attention before cheekily sucking you into his mouth in one smooth motion. He held your hips down and watched your face contort in pleasure with every lick, kiss, and hollowing of his cheeks. You threaded your hand through his strawberry blond curls and tensed against him.

“Hah, A-Asmo,” you panted. He hummed against you and you curled your toes. “Asmo please, I’m so close.”

He placed a kiss against you and pulled away.

“Asmo please!” you begged, not caring for how needy you may have just sounded.

“Shhhh shhh,” he hushed you gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you. Be good for me and let me make sure you’re prepared. Yeah?”

He reached up to one of the items he’d grabbed from his nightstand and showed it to you. A small bottle with a clear liquid inside. Lube you guessed. You groaned but nodded nonetheless, anticipation building in your throat in the form of a whine. You wanted to make him feel good too.

Asmo opened the cap and dribbled lube on his fingers, pressing them to your entrance and spreading the slick over you.

He pressed one finger in and then two, slowly opening you up and making sure you were ready to take him. He felt himself dripping precum onto the sheets as he grinned himself into the mattress to relieve some of the ache. You had no idea what your moans alone did to him.

You begged once more. “Asmo, please, I’m definitely ready! I just really need you inside me now. Please! I want to feel you.” You covered your face with your hands, sure you were redder than you had ever been before.

Asmo cursed under his breath. He couldn’t deny you anymore. Not when you said things like that and begged so pretty for him. He grabbed the condom he’d retrieved from his nightstand earlier and rolled it on. He positioned himself back above you, his cock pressing against you as he slowly pressed in. He threw his head back and groaned as your heat enveloped him and clenched around him.

You felt him press inch by inch into you until he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside you, hips pressed up against you. You panted at the feeling of being fully filled by him, letting out a breathy low moan when he experimentally rolled his hips. You felt his hands tug your wrists and palms away from your face.

“Let me see you.”

He laced your fingers together and rested on his elbows above you, kissing you deeply before beginning to thrust with long, slow, deep drags inside you, gazing into your eyes like you were his whole world.

He kissed you tenderly, taking his time, studying your lips with his. He wanted to remember this forever. Your voice, your smell, the way your face contorted in pleasure with every roll of his hips. He couldn’t hold on for long. Not with the way you had openly admitted to wanting to touch him earlier or the way you’d begged just now. It was part of the reason he’d gotten you so close to the edge. He wanted to feel you come undone around him.

Asmo kissed you once more and sat up on his knees, one hand letting go of one of yours in favor of reaching down between you and rubbing you closer to completion. The coil in your belly tightened impossibly further as he pressed faster into you, the sound of skin against skin and him pumping inside you echoing with his and your moans. His thrusts started faltering, his timing off ever so slightly you could tell he was close too. He squeezed your hand once more and looked into your eyes.

“I love you.”

And you came undone.

Your orgasm took over and caused you to arch your back up, hips pressed down against him, legs curling around his torso. He cursed and followed you over, thrusting a few more times before settling deep inside you to ride out his own orgasm, moaning your name like a mantra. He caught himself as he buckled over you, letting the last of it wash over him.

You cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss. When you separated, you stroked his face and replied, “I love you too.” You kissed his nose once and twice more on his lips for good measure.

He slowly pulled out from you, both groaning at the loss, but you were both tired and sated. He could see sleep slowly starting to haze your eyes as you struggled to stay awake. He smiled gently at you. You gently smiled back.

He slid off the bed into the bathroom to discard the condom and grab a warm cloth to clean the both of you up. When he returned, you were barely conscious.

Asmo wiped a warm cloth over the mess you had created together on your skin and tucked you into bed beside him. He gently kissed your forehead and wrapped you in his arms, following you into a restful sleep.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #om!#obey me asmodeus #kat writes #nsftumblr

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ellewritesathing · 4 years

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Ten Things VIII

Summary: If there’s one thing you have to know about Harvey Kinkle, it’s that he rarely thinks things through. So when he meets (and falls for) Sabrina Spellman on his first day of Baxter High and finds out that she can’t date anyone until her tempestuous sister does, it seems like the obvious solution is to get someone to date her so he can go out with Sabrina. A not so obvious choice for the challenge is Caliban, but, hey, it’s not like Harvey thought that far.

Masterlist Prev. | Part 8

Word-count: 3.8k+

A/N: ahh i can’t believe this series is completed!! it’s been super fun to write these characters and their relationships and i hope you guys like how i’ve done this (endings are not my strong suit lmao) 💕 thank you for reading!!

A few months ago, your and Sabrina’s relationship had been strained at best. She had been so young and all she wanted to do was experience everything, and you were older and a bit more jaded because you’d already experienced it all. And thanks to your wild days of experiences, Hilda and Zelda set a rule in place when you cooled down: Sabrina could only do something if you did too.

A part of Sabrina had always resented you for it, even though the rule wasn’t your fault. It was just incredibly frustrating to always be asking you for favors and you consistently refusing because you were done ‘pretending to be someone you weren’t.’ She hadn't understood what that meant back then.

And Sabrina had to admit, even though Hilda and Zelda would crucify for her saying it, that your relationship got better after Caliban and Harvey came into your lives. Those two idiots had a way of making Sabrina more forgiving and you less hard-headed and, slowly, your relationship improved.

But then prom happened and everything exploded.

No matter how many times you promised that you were fine, Sabrina couldn’t shake the memory of picking up from the mines with Caliban’s car smashed in and abandoned in the background. Nor could she forget how she cradled you in the backseat while you sobbed and asked her why he didn’t like you.

So, when you rejected Sabrina’s thirtieth offer to join her and Harvey for some retail therapy (or vandalism - Harvey could wait in the car), Sabrina did what any good sister would: She canceled her plans with Harvey and hunted down Caliban.

She thought finding Caliban would be the tricky part, but talking to him turned out to be the hard part. The second Sabrina saw him at Dr. Cerberus’ looking for a book, her entire speech that she’d been preparing since breaking Nick’s nose just disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t fair that he was perfectly okay while you cried into a pint of ice cream, but she couldn't find the words to yell that at him.

Despite being at a loss for words, Sabrina stormed over and tapped Caliban on the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Looking for a copy of Pride and Prejudice.” Caliban straightened up and bumped Sabrina’s arm lightly to get to the bookshelf. “Do you mind?”

“Do I mind?” Sabrina repeated, crossing her arms and stepping closer to him. Even though he was easily a foot taller than her, she was determined not to be intimidated. “Yes, I mind. I mind that you’re here book shopping while my sister's turned into Boo Radley!”

“Oh, spare me the dramatics, Blondie,” Caliban said with a roll of his eyes. He turned his attention back to the bookshelf. “Firstly, you were just as involved in all this as I was. More so, actually - it was your gentle manipulation that pulled Harvey into all your bullshit. And secondly, your sister is far too strong to get her heart broken. By me or anybody else.”

Sabrina faltered. She had been working very hard to block her part of this whole mess out of her head. “Are you gonna tell her?” she asked, in a very careful voice.

Caliban knelt to get a better view of the shelf. He was in the totally wrong section if he was looking for Pride and Prejudice, but Sabrina didn’t want to point him in the right direction just yet. “Now, why would I do that?” he asked, tilting his head up at her. “So that she can hate us both?”

Tapping her fingers on her arm, Sabrina was forced to admit that Caliban was being a frustratingly good guy about this all. “Well…” Sabrina tried to figure out something to be mad at him for. “What’s your plan?”

“My plan?” Caliban didn’t take his eyes off the copies of The Great Gatsby and Catcher In Rye in front of him.

“Your plan to fix this,” Sabrina said. She put her hand on his head and turned it to in the direction of the British Lit two shelves down. “You’ve got a plan, right?”

Caliban was quiet. He stood up and looked down at her, seemingly figuring out how much Harvey would mind if he pushed Sabrina over. “No,” he said eventually, trying very hard to keep his voice level. “I don’t have a plan.”

He turned to go to the British Lit and Sabrina grabbed his arm to force him to turn around. “How can you not have a plan?” she asked.

“Because-” Caliban shook off her arm and kept walking “-nothing I say will fix this. Your sister hates me.”

“My sister hates everyone!” Sabrina stormed after him, practically knocking him over when she closed the distance. Awkwardly, she added, “But she hates you a little less than everyone else.”

Over the dusty copy of Lord of the Flies, Caliban looked at Sabrina with an almost unreadable expression. Unnerving, yes, but surprisingly unguarded. Sabrina was sure he could set someone on fire with that look alone.

Caliban dropped his gaze and pulled out the last Pride and Prejudice on the shelf. “Well, thanks, Blondie, but I think she hates me most of all right now.”

“That’s just because she doesn’t know!” Sabrina grabbed Caliban’s arm before he could leave. Giving him her best set-you-on-fire look, she said, “If you just talk to her - explain what happened - then I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

“Because ‘forgiving’ is the first word that comes to mind when one thinks of your sister,” Caliban said quietly, staring at Sabrina’s hand on his arm. He looked back at her with a hard expression. “Whatever happens between me and your sister, I want you to know one thing.”

“Anything,” Sabrina said, caught off-guard by his intensity.

“If you ever hurt Harvey, I’ll break into your house and shave your cat,” Caliban said.

Before Sabrina had the chance to even begin formulating a response to that, Caliban gave her a tight smile and walked away.

Sabrina could see now, after one very frustrating interaction with him, why you liked Caliban so much. He was impulsive, vaguely threatening, and very clearly in love with you.

---

“Okay, let’s open up our books to page 73, Sonnet 141. And listen closely,” Wardwell said. She ushered in a scrawny freshman who rapped the first four lines of the sonnet and then excused him with three quick taps to his shoulder. “As Toby has just shown us, there are multiple ways of engaging with Shakespeare. It wasn’t always bad actors in stuffy period clothes, you know.”

She said it knowingly, as if every dumbass teenager in the class had seen a Shakespeare play and thought wow, this stuff would be great if it weren’t for the poorly done accents and garish clothing.

When no one responded to Wardwell’s attempt at humor, she took a breath and walked in a little circle around her desk to reboot. “I’d like for all to write your own versions of this sonnet,” she said. “A poem riddled with contradictions and the struggle between the physical desire and mental …” she paused when you put your hand up. You knew you should have known to wait until she finished her sentence, lest she forget her original point. “Um, yes, Ms. Spellman? Do you have a problem with the assignment?”

“No problem. Do you want this in iambic pentameter?” you asked, pen ready to write down whatever convoluted answer Wardwell gave you.

Wardwell narrowed her eyes and walked around to the front of her desk again to get a better look at you. “To be clear, you don’t have any problems whatsoever with the assignment?”

“Whatsoever,” you echoed. Your voice had a slight edge to it thanks to your thinning patience. You tapped your pen on your notebook.

“Are you sure?” Wardwell crossed her arms over her chest.

You sighed and put down your pen. With your best attempt at one of Sabrina’s polite smiles, you said, “I’m sure that it’s a great assignment, Mrs. Wardwell. Now, iambic pentameter: yes or no?”

“You know, I’m not sure I like this new attitude of yours,” Wardwell said, pushing herself off her desk and turning to look for a notepad. She scribbled something on it as she walked to your desk. “Take this and go see the nurse. I think you may have a fever.”

“A fever? Wardwell, what the hell is this?” you asked.

“A note. To see the nurse.” Wardwell tore the note off her notepad and handed it to you before gesturing toward the door. “Go.”

“But I-”

“Now, Ms. Spellman.”

You let out a listless breath and slammed your notebook shut. Shoving all your things into your bag and ignoring Nick’s snickering, you grabbed the note from Wardwell and stormed out of the class.

When you turned to flip Nick off while Wardwell had her back to the class, you saw Caliban reaching over his desk to flick Nick’s neck and whisper something in his ear that made him a few shades paler. It filled your heart with a funny feeling and you adjusted your bag and fled before you had a chance to start crying in the middle of your English class.

Once you were in the safety of the hallway, you had no idea which way to turn. The nurse’s office wasn’t an option because Pollit was deeply against any student seeing her unless they were bleeding and you didn’t feel like getting detention for supposedly faking an illness. It was too bright outside to throw rocks at the soccer team. You found yourself heading for the library before you even realized that you’d decided not to ditch.

The smell of coffee and freshly microwaved lunches mingled with old books and teenage angst when you stepped through the threshold. It was surprisingly busy for the sixth period, but luckily your spot in the back corner by the window was open. Slipping on your headphones, you drowned out all the others and started working on your stupid sonnet.

If the writer’s block wasn’t annoying enough, someone slid into the seat across from you and jostled the table in the process. Lifting your gaze from your newly marred page, you were intent on giving the offender the harshest glare in your arsenal until you saw it was Harvey.

He was nervous, spouting some apology that you couldn’t hear over your music, and wearing a football helmet. You took your headphones off to hear some of the ten billion words he was saying.

“Why are you wearing a football helmet?” you asked, setting your headphones aside and doing your best not to glare at him.

“Oh, uh-” Harvey tapped the helmet like he’d forgotten he was wearing it. “I wanted to talk but I thought you’d still be pretty pissed at me.”

You tilted your head to the side. “And you thought a helmet would protect you?”

“I mean, I feel a little dumb about it now but yeah,” Harvey said with a shrug.

You laughed at him and leaned over to take the helmet off his head. He looked ready to run for the exit, but he held still as you took the helmet in your hands. Collapsing back into your seat, you sighed and looked at the red Greendale High football helmet. “I’m not angry with you,” you said. “I tried but it’s like being mad at a puppy.”

Harvey shifted uncomfortably and frowned. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment but thank you.”

“No problem, Harvey.” You sighed and set the helmet on the table. Both of you stared at the helmet for an awkwardly long period of time. “What did you want to talk about?”

Either his seat was very uncomfortable or you still managed to unnerve him because Harvey kept shifting in his seat and starting sentences but never quite finishing them. Eventually, he sighed and said, “It’s not Caliban’s fault. It’s mine.”

“No, you only think it’s yours because you’re sixteen and more easily manipulated than most,” you said.

“Yeah, I know all that but-” Harvey shifted and tapped your notebook as he tried to figure out how to word what he was about to say. “I liked Sabrina, right? But everyone told me that she couldn’t date unless you did. So, I started talking to Caliban because he seemed like your type-”

“Caliban is my type?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Harvey said, completely missing your offense at his assumption of your type. Sure, he’d been right but still. “Anyway, so, like I said it, was my idea. He had feelings for you already and then Nick offered him money and … I don’t know. I told him to go for it anyway.”

You picked at the rings of your notebook in silence, mulling over Harvey’s words and trying not to punch him.

“He was going to tell you but I said it would just hurt you,” Harvey continued. He took a deep breath. “So, if you’re going to be mad at anyone, then be mad at me.”

You hoped you’d see something outside that told you what to do, but everything outside stared at you ambivalently. Letting go of your notebook, you turned back to Harvey and shrugged.

“He lied to me, Harvey. I get that you were selfish and messed up, but Caliban lied,” you said. “That’s worse than what you did because it feels like I can’t trust anything he says.”

Harvey looked like you’d just told him Santa Claus wasn’t real. Gut-punched and disappointed. In a slightly smaller and more strained voice, he said, “But it’s not his fault.”

You reached out and touched Harvey’s hand on the table. “I know you’re just trying to help your friend but it’s not that simple,” you said. “Do you understand?”

“No,” Harvey said lamely. He sank back in his chair and sighed. “But I’ll stop bugging you about it.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand before letting go entirely. You pulled your notebook out from under Harvey’s helmet. “Are you gonna keep staring at me like that or do you have work to do?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be in chemistry right now,” Harvey said.

Again, a bit of your bad mood dissipated and you laughed. “You should probably go to chemistry.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harvey said. He looked at the door and looked back at you. “But, uh, is it cool if I sit here for a while?”

You wanted to say no and to tell him that he was still an idiot for his part in this whole mess, but he was looking at you with those dumb lost puppy eyes. “Okay,” you said. “But don’t distract me or I’ll kick you under the table.”

Harvey laughed and settled into his seat. “Got it. Next time I’ll bring shin-guards.”

---

All things considered, Caliban had been handling your blind hatred quite well. Though, technically, your hatred wasn’t blind anymore because you knew the truth about him. Your hatred was all-seeing, all-encompassing, and everlasting. Caliban expected no less, considering the remnants of his smashed-up car found on the edge of the mines, but it still felt like he was falling apart every time he saw you.

Before, your almost exactly replicated schedules had been a convenient way to spy on you until Caliban finally worked up the courage to ask you out. Then, it had been the ideal opportunity to pass notes and make fun of Billy. Now, it was the perfect torture session where the two of you pretended not to notice one another.

It had gone on for almost a week before Caliban couldn’t stand it any longer. He had a plan, a very shaky plan, and Ambrose’s assurance that he could treat any of Caliban’s bones that you broke.

Caliban had waited the whole day and all he had to do was get through English, and then he could talk to you. Regardless of whether or not you broke his nose, phase two of the plan would commence with red carnations and one of those cheesy acoustic songs you liked.

“Okay, children,” Wardwell said in her disturbingly chipper voice. Her heels clacked against the floor as she scurried to the front of the class. “You’ve had plenty of time to work on your poems and I’m very excited to hear your takes on this classic sonnet.”

She was met by the silence of two dozen over-tired teens. Awkwardly, Wardwell fiddled with her hands and started walking around again. She paused at the window for a second and turned back to the class with wide eyes.

“Any brave souls willing to read theirs aloud?” Wardwell asked it like it was a dangerous question, like she was asking them if they wanted to rob a bank later.

Again, she was met with uncomfortable silence. Then your hand shot up and the air felt slightly more electric.

“Oh, Ms. Spellman … um, would anyone else like to give it a try?” Wardwell asked, looking out at the crowd with hungry eyes. “No? Well, alright then. Come on up, Ms. Spellman.”

Wardwell waved you over and placed you next to her desk in the front. She gave your shoulders an uncomfortable-looking squeeze and hurried back to her spot near the window. When she stood like that, she looked like a spindly bird watching over her chicks. Or maybe over her prey; it was hard to tell.

Once you were standing in front of the blackboard the way Wardwell liked, you took a deep breath and looked down at your notebook. “Here goes nothing,” you mumbled. Glancing over at the Caliban, his heart stopped as you dropped your gaze and started reading in a tight voice. “I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.”

At the mention of his staring, Caliban’s heart stuttered annoyingly. He was staring at you now, along with the rest of the class, but this was different. He’d told you once that he stared because it gave him a chance to figure out what to say, but this time he was staring so that he’d never forget this moment.

“I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind … I hate you so much that it makes me sick-” You let out a short laugh and looked out at the window as you shook your head. “It even makes me rhyme.”

The whole class laughed and you took another breath to prepare for the next stanza. There was no laughter in your voice when you spoke again. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” Your voice cracked and you looked up at the ceiling. “I hate it when you make me laugh.” A stray tear ran down your face and you wiped it away roughly. “Even worse when you make me cry.”

Caliban leaned forward in his chair. Whatever you said next, he didn’t want to miss a word.

“I hate the way you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call,” you said, voice trembling between the tears that Caliban knew were eating you up inside. As if this moment couldn't twist him up any more, you looked up from your notebook and made eye contact with Caliban for your final lines. “But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close … not even a little bit … not even at all.”

With a breath, you shut your notebook and started walking out of the classroom. In a show of remarkable self-control, you didn’t slap Nick on your way out as he asked what on earth that poem could possibly be about.

Wardwell called after you, teetering on her heels as she scurried after you, but she stopped when she was almost run over by Caliban bolting out of his seat. She held onto him until he promised that he would make sure you were okay.

Thanks to the Wardwell delay, you were long gone by the time Caliban made it to the hallway, but he had a pretty good idea of where you’d gone. He raced out of the school and tracked down your car.

You were glaring at your car when Caliban found you, or more specifically glaring at the dozens of red carnations in your backseat. Reluctantly, you picked up the apology note on your windshield.

Technically, it was more of an excerpt than a note. Caliban had ripped out one of the last pages of the Pride and Prejudice he bought the other day, the page where Darcy proposes to Elizabeth (which was your favorite because ‘he promised to leave her the fuck alone if she didn’t feel the same’), circled your quote, and scrawled out an apology.

Caliban didn’t even know you’d seen him standing there until you balled up the note and threw at him. “You know you can’t just keep buying me red carnations every time you mess up, right?” you asked.

Seeing as amusement outweighed the annoyance in your voice, Caliban walked closer to you. “Yeah, but that’s why they have roses…” Closer- “tulips…” Caliban stopped in front of you and let out a shaky breath. “Hell, if I get that desperate, I'll even buy you some peonies.”

You bit the inside of your lip and cast a look at your car. You shrugged. “How do you plan to afford all that, huh? Going to keep dating girls so the cash keeps coming?”

It was a cheap shot but one that Caliban deserved. He dropped his gaze. “No, I, uh, messed up the last time. See, this girl was … something else. And I fell for her.”

You frowned for a second but then gave him a very hesitant smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Caliban repeated. “It’s not every day you find a girl who’ll steal your car and then leave it absolutely wrecked without leaving so much as a note for your insurance company.”

You laughed and covered your face with your hand.

“In her defense, she did leave my tires alone,” Caliban said with a mischievous smile.

For the first time, Caliban’s heart didn’t wrench at the sound of your laugh. You knew the truth and you seemed to care about him anyway. “Shut up,” you told him. You grabbed a fistful of Caliban’s shirt and pulled him closer.

Your first kiss was rushed and clumsy - you wanted to kiss him and Caliban needed to kiss you. After a shared laugh, your second kiss was less frantic and a little smoother - your hand cupped his jaw familiarly and his arms held you without having to think. Then there was your third kiss, your fourth … each one better than the last.

by the way, loves, here’s the quote in case any of you were wondering: Elizabeth was much too embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

Tagged: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @hxlalokidottir @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @acciomaximoff @reheated-coffee @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee @lettherebelovex @throughparisallthroughrome @ietss @thebookwormlife @mechanicalanimalz @mariamermaid @nqbmf @caliban-is-my-girl @shephard17895 @andie-kathleen @clockworks-world-to-fandoms @luquincy @marina468 @olivia-west-allen @drrramaaaqweeen @roxytheimmortal @blondeeee-e

#ten things #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #caos #Caliban #caliban imagine #caliban x reader

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orangeoctopi7 · 4 years

Text

A Turning Point

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8 : Part 9 : Part 10

The morning broke clear and bright. Stan had plenty of experience sleeping on the ground, so he was actually well-rested. When the first piercing birdsongs woke him, he sat up, stretched, and looked around at his compatriots. Of course, they were both still sound asleep. That wasn't surprising. McGucket had really worn himself out yesterday, and Ford had apparently learned to appreciate sleep over the past decade or so, given how grumpy he was every time Stan woke him.

Actually, this was probably Stan's best opportunity to talk to McGucket about what had happened to Ford yesterday. He hated to wake the guy after he'd obviously been working so hard, but it wasn't like they'd be able to talk about it in the car later, and frankly, Stan wanted to have this conversation sooner rather than later. He leaned over and poked the inventor's sleeping bag.

"Hey, hey Fidds, wake up!" He whispered.

Fiddleford poked his head out and blinked awake blearily.

"Whoa! What happened to your face!?" Stan yelped in surprise, forgetting to keep his voice down.

"Wha? What's wrong wi'my face!?" McGucket panicked into full wakefulness and started patting his cheeks.

"You grew a full beard overnight!"

"Oh." The inventor calmed down immediately. "That's normal. I got a genetic condition, makes my facial hair grow three times faster'n average. Is that all you woke me up for?"

"No, the beard just caught me off-guard. I wanted to talk about what happened with Ford yesterday in the UFO."

Fiddleford glanced over at Stanford. Luckily Stanley's outburst hadn't woken him. "Alright. Lemme grab my shaving kit, we'll talk outside of camp."

They found a low-hanging branch a few meters outside of camp where McGucket could hang his mirror and a small bucket of water.

"It jus' didn't seem like the sorta thing Ford would do." He explained as he lathered up some shaving cream. "When we was in University together, he never put much stock in that metaphysical, in-tune-with-the-universe type stuff, despite the fact that he was subscribed to every cryptid publication in the country."

"Yeah, he didn't believe in that stuff when we were kids either. I mean, our mom was a phony psychic, we knew all that stuff was crap."

"Well, apparently not. Somethin' led him to that engine room, and given what all I've seen here, I ain't even that surprised anymore."

"Oh, something led him there alright, but I don't think it was the universe or whatever. I think he was actually communicating with something."

Fiddleford turned pale and almost nicked himself with his razor. "Ford mentioned ghosts. Y'don't reckon those aliens are still… y'know, still around?"

"What? No." Stan explained how a strange new version of his spider-sense had been bothering him since he first arrived in Gravity Falls. How it always seemed to be centered around Ford. How he'd used the light filtration goggles to try and figure out what it was, and seen the little one-eyed yellow triangle depicted all over the house come out of Ford's head.

"So you think Ford's been in contact with that creepy cryptid?"

"Yeah, isn't it obvious? I've seen the thing twice now!"

"Hmm, it'd certainly explain a few things… but any two points make a line."

"You can't seriously think it's just a coincidence!"

"Now calm down, I ain't saying I don't believe ya. There's certainly some kinda correlation. I'm just sayin' we need more data."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. "I tried to ask Ford about it while you were gone. All I got outta him was that it's some sorta knowledge-giver. Then that twingey sense came back and he clammed up. I think that thing showed up and told him not to spill the beans."

"I'm afraid I don't know much about it myself." Fiddleford frowned, carefully shaving all the hairs off his upper lip. "It's a symbol that's been found all over the world. I do know it's been found on a lotta Native American artefacts here in the valley. Maybe if you spoke to an expert like a tribal elder or historian, they'd be able to tell you what it is."

"Yeah, well, whatever it is, I don't think it's a new development. You remember what he said back there about a little help from a friend? He said the same thing before about getting around a roadblock in his studies after he first found the UFO. And while you were on vacation, he kinda implied he wasn't up here alone before you moved in. I think this has been going on for a while. Maybe even years. Did you ever notice anything weird right after you moved in?"

"Other than that creepy triangle symbol everywhere? Not really…"

"What are you two doing out here?" Ford asked behind them. They both jumped; they'd been so deep in their conversation, they hadn't noticed him coming their way.

"Jehosaphat, Ford!" McGucket pressed his thumb over where he'd nicked his cheek. "Don't sneak up on us like that!"

"Well maybe you two shouldn't sneak off without telling me!" Ford shot back.

"What? Heh, we didn't sneak off." Stan assured him with a nervous chuckle. "I was just, uh, watching Fidds here shave. Wow, you really have to shave that much every day?"

"Heh, yep, either that or I'll have a beard as long as a necktie by the end of the month."

Ford looked at them both skeptically. "You're sure you weren't discussing anything behind my back?"

"PCH, no!" Stan scoffed forcefully.

Ford didn't look convinced. "Stan, I need your help gathering all our equipment back up. Fiddleford, once you're done, I expect you to come help too."

* * *

Once they were all packed up, Ford suggested taking a short-cut back to the truck, following some sort of game trail. The others went along with him, if only because they felt bad about talking behind his back earlier.

It was a peaceful morning, until Stan heard a strange rumbling sound coming from further down the trail. He halted in his tracks.

"What is it?" Ford asked.

"Sounds like something's on the trail that way." Stan explained. "Maybe we should go around."

"I'll go check it out." Ford took another step forward.

"Uh, Ford, maybe you should let the guy with super strength go check it out." McGucket suggested.

"You really think I'm going to let Stanley have all the fun just because he has super powers?" Ford scoffed and forged ahead.

The two of them waited about five minutes before Ford returned, an eager grin on his face and his Journal out, ready to take notes.

“You two have to see this! Come on!” He whispered excitedly, waving them down the path.

A few meters down the path, around a clump of trees, Ford stopped, pointing at what first appeared to be a pile of fungus-encrusted boulders. When it moved up and down slowly, they realized it was a sleeping creature, and a closer look revealed long tusks, sharp claws, and huge pointed ears.

“I can’t believe we actually found a Gremloblin!” The scientist continued giddily. “This is one of the most rare creatures in all of Gravity Falls, I’ve only ever heard tales of them from the gnomes, it’s much uglier than I expected! Supposedly, if you look into its eyes, you’ll see your worst fear.”

Fiddleford gulped. “How about we leave it be, then.”

Ford scoffed. “Don’t worry, it’s fast asleep. I may never get another opportunity to study this creature up close!” He sat down and began sketching.

“Hey, y’know what’d be faster? Just take a picture and let’s get out of here.” Stan suggested.

“I didn’t bring a camera.” Ford said simply.

“Are you kidding me? We practically packed everything but the kitchen sink, and you didn’t bring a camera!?” Stan hissed.

“I don’t want any photographic record of Crash Site Omega. And besides, I like to sketch.”

“Well I like to not be attacked by a hulking beast that’ll show your worst fear. Let’s go before it wakes up!”

Ford rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to wake up! They’re supposed to be very heavy sleepers, it should be fine as long as none of us disturb it.”

“P-please, Ford, let’s just move along and not tempt fate.” Fiddleford pleaded, cowering behind a large tree.

“We can go as soon as I finish this sketch.” Ford assured them.

And so they sat there for a few minutes; the only sounds were the scratching of Ford’s pen and the Gremloblin’s rumbling snores. Just as the researcher was taking note of the grooved claws, and theorizing about their function, a high-pitched whistle pierced the air. Fiddleford, who had been carrying the hyperdrive, had been clutching the device so tightly in his anxiety, that he'd set off some sort of alarm. He banged his fist against the machine, trying to stop the noise, but it was too late.

The Gremloblin awoke with a snarl and pounced at McGucket, immediately scooping him up in its claws and staring into his eyes. Both the monster and the inventor's eyes took on a pale yellow glow.

"I told you. I told you this would happen!" Stan yelled at his brother.

"Not the time, Stanley!" Ford snapped back. The first thing he could think to do was throw the nearest object at the beast to distract it. The nearest object just so happened to be his canteen, as he'd just been drinking from it. The lid hadn't been screwed on tight, and water splashed all over the creature as the container bonked off its head.

The Gremloblin was distracted enough that it looked away from McGucket, but it didn't let him go. Instead, the creature flexed as it grew enormous spines, quills, and wings out of its back. With a mighty flap, it was airborne, a still whimpering McGucket in its claws.

"Way to go, genius." Stan snarked, strapping on his web shooters and swinging after the monster through the trees.

"Stan, wait, you don't know what this thing is capable of!" Ford shouted after him.

"Obviously you don't either!" Stan shouted over his shoulder.

Ford grit his teeth as he sprinted after them, branches and thorns tearing at his clothes and skin. Stan couldn't wait just thirty seconds for him to explain that the monster's claws were probably poisonous, or that its head was relatively unprotected. He couldn't even slow down to let his brother explain these things as they ran. No. He had to swing ahead with no plan and no idea of what he was up against.

Ford was about to lose sight of the Gremloblin, when Stan webbed up the monster's wings. It plummeted to the ground with a screech, crashing to the ground at the top of a nearby cliff. The researcher picked up the pace as he watched his brother tackle the creature. In the scuffle, it dropped McGucket and the hyperdrive, but the two combatants also careened over the edge.

"Stanley!!" Ford cried, rushing through the trees to the foot of the cliff. When he finally broke through the underbrush, he found his brother fighting hand-to-hand with the Gremloblin. Stan had already sustained a few scrapes across his forearms, and it looked like he was trying to box the creature into submission. It wasn't going well.

Stan's movements and superhuman reflexes seemed to be slowing, and the monster got another swing in at him, raking its claws across his chest.

Ford cast his eyes about frantically, searching for some way he could help. A glint of light at the top of the cliff caught his eye. It was the hyperdrive! It was sitting just near the edge of the cliff, right above the Gremloblin's head. He pulled out his magnet gun and took aim.

"Stanley, step back!" Ford warned his brother as he pulled the trigger. The hyperdrive zipped off the cliff face and collided with the Gremloblin's head, narrowly avoiding Stan. The Gremloblin fell to the ground with a thud, knocked out-cold.

"Are you ok?" The researcher asked as he rushed up to his brother in concern.

"Fine, fine." Stan waved him off with one hand, holding the other arm to the scrape across his chest.

"Good." Ford smacked him upside the head. "What were you thinking, knucklehead? You could've gotten yourself or Fiddleford killed!"

"There wasn't time to think, genius, I had to do something before that monster flew off with Fidds!"

"Yes, the fact that you weren't thinking is obvious." Ford growled. "Come on, we need to make sure Fiddleford is alright."

They were able to scale the cliff in a matter of seconds with the web shooters. McGucket was curled up in the fetal position, quivering with fear and babbling frantically to no one in particular.

"Fiddleford!" Stanford rushed to his friend's side.

"D-don't take 'em away, I ain't h-hurt n-nobody… I ain't… I ain't like that… n-no don't! ... he's jus' a boy… n-needs his daddy…"

"It's ok, you're safe now." Ford tried to hold his friend's hand reassuringly, but McGucket didn't seem able to grasp it. He didn't even seem to notice his friends were there. He just continued muttering like he was in the midst of a nightmare.

Ford frowned and gently took his friend's arm, carefully feeling for injuries.

"It's broken." He shot a glare over his shoulder at Stan.

"What's that look for!?" Stan asked.

"He wouldn't have been injured if you hadn't forced the Gremloblin to crash land!"

Stan gave an exasperated snort. "Look, I had to act fast or that thing was gonna get away with Fidds, so I took a risk. I'd like to see you do any better in the same position!"

"Well I didn't get a chance to do any better because you rushed off without me!"

"Again, no time! And news flash, genius, this wouldn't've happened if you had just moved on and left the giant monster alone like we told you to!"

Ford scoffed and carefully lifted McGucket off the ground. "How was I supposed to know the alarm was still active? It would have been fine, otherwise."

"You're unbelievable." Stan rolled his eyes and leaned down to pick up the hyperdrive, but instead he… missed.

"...Huh…" Stan rubbed his eyes and tried to pick up the machine again. Once again, he just grabbed the air beside it.

"Stanley, did you hit your head in the fight?"

"No, mom, I didn't hit my head! I just got a headache, it's makin' my vision a little blurry is all."

Ford looked him over in concern, noting that many of the claw marks the Gremloblin had given Stan had broken the skin.

"I believe the Gremloblin's claws may be poisonous. You're probably suffering the side effects of some sort of toxin. Come on, we need to get you both back to the lab for treatment as soon as possible. Here, hold out your arms."

Stan held out his arms uncertainly. Ford carefully transferred McGucket into them. "I'll carry the hyperdrive for now. Let me know if you feel like you're going to drop him."

"What about the rest of our gear?" Stan asked. "We left it back in the clearing where you found that thing."

"We'll have to come back for it later." Ford assured him. "It'll only slow us down now, and besides, the hyperdrive is the only thing I'd be really worried about leaving out in the open."

As they made their way down the mountain, Ford found he needed to steer Stanley out of the way of trees or rocks with increasing frequency. At least he could still walk. Fiddleford remained catatonic, and the researcher doubted he could carry both his brother and his friend.

* * *

In the end, they managed to get home before Stan passed out. After doing his best to treat McGucket for shock, Ford took a blood sample to try and determine what kind of toxin the Gremloblin had in its claws. It was a neurotoxin, but thankfully, it seemed that Stan's spider powers had already developed an antitoxin to combat it. He'd be fine after a good night's rest.

It took another hour or so to treat both their wounds, and by the time he finished they were both fast asleep. He was quite eager to join them. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"SHEESH, WHAT A DAY, AM I RIGHT?" Ford was too tired to even be surprised by Bill's visit. “ALL THE WORK TO GET THE HYPERDRIVE, AND THEN YOU HAVE TO DROP THE THING ON A GREMLOBLIN’S HEAD.”

"An unqualified disaster, yes." Ford agreed. "But at least no lasting damage was done, and we got the hyperdrive back in one piece."

"TRUE, BUT ALL OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN AVOIDED."

Ford felt his temper flare. It was bad enough that Stanley was blaming him for all of this, now Bill had to lay on the guilt too?

"It is my job to study the anomalies in this valley! Excuse me for trying to do it!"

"OH, THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!" Bill laughed. "YOU WERE RIGHT EARLIER. YOU COULD HAVE DONE BETTER, IF YOU'D HAD THE CHANCE. IT'S LIKE I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU, STANFORD. YOU'D MAKE A MUCH BETTER HERO THAN YOUR BROTHER. YOU WOULD HAVE STOPPED AND THOUGHT ABOUT YOUR OPTIONS. YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN TO LOOK OUT FOR THE GREMLOBLIN'S CLAWS. YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO ATTACK ITS WINGS WHILE IT WAS FLYING. YOU WOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN YOUR ASSISTANT'S ARM BROKEN."

"Well, maybe so." Ford nodded in agreement. "But I'm still not sure if I want that kind of responsibility…. I'm not sure I want to change like that."

"I GET IT, YOU DON'T WANT TO BE EVEN MORE OF A FREAK THAN YOU ALREADY ARE. UNDERSTANDABLE." Bill patted him on the head like someone might pet a dog. "DON'T WORRY, I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THAT. IT SHOULD BE ARRIVING IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS."

"You… ordered something for me in the mail?" Ford asked in confusion.

"HAHAH, NOT EXACTLY, BUT I GUESS THAT'S THE CLOSEST APPROXIMATION YOU FLESH BAGS HAVE."

“Bill, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I really don’t know--”

“OH COME ON, SIXER, AFTER I WENT THROUGH THE TROUBLE TO FIND THIS THING AND SEND IT YOUR WAY, THE LEAST YOU COULD DO IS TRY IT OUT! AND YOU’VE GOT THE NEXT COUPLE OF DAYS TO DECIDE IF YOU REALLY WANT IT.”

“Well, I suppose that’s alright… and if it’s something that doesn’t cause a physical change in me, I don’t see why I couldn’t at least give it a try.”

"THAT'S THE SPIRIT, SIXER! TRUST ME, YOU'RE GONNA WANT IT! YOU'LL BE THE KIND OF HERO THIS WORLD DESERVES!"

GI GUGFOVUC PPNTZY, SHB V’BX BVNZQ OM WRA PNBX MFZM JKBLU CALIAICBOVITF JVLR KYZVPBF. SHLV NOTXXMJVDR HXBRIQBX, EYJF ARRY WFABEUE, U KRVQKGWP GW QU ZIFSG QGGWVF QA VNVCVK… V’S LOIR QG’Y GIKUQAM LNRANBXW HVRLF ZH EEBE NHHOK.

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Fiddleford Mcgucket #Bill Cipher #My Writing #Spider Stan AU #SpiderStan AU

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mentallyunstableunicornwrites · 4 years

Text

Prompt 114

“Wha - Get your face out of my hair.” “I’m just trying to mask the smell of the shit floating around.”

There was a running joke, for as long as Viktor could remember, about how hockey players and male figure skaters just didn’t get along. Supposedly, hockey players saw male figure skaters as far too delicate and weak to compete in ‘real’ sports. Meanwhile, male figure skaters saw hockey players as brutish bulls with no manners. This was, of course, just a joke as far as he knew. He had always gotten along well with the hockey players that made up the Russian Olympic team. He even dated one in the past. If you asked him, Viktor would tell you that it was nothing more than a joke. Or, at least that is what he would have said before he arrived in Japan.

For a country that prided itself on their respectable nature, there were some instances where Japanese people were just plain rude to one another. Rivalries were common practice in Japan as it seemed everyone had the same goal, to the best at their craft. More than once Viktor had listened to a chef at one restaurant try to prevent him from giving his business to a rival restaurant blocks away. For the most part, the practice didn’t really bother him. On occasion, it was more of a nuisance than anything, but he didn’t really take it to heart and could overlook it most of the time. There was one group of people, however, that rubbed him the wrong way every time. Hockey players, in particular the recreation hockey team that trained out of Ice Castle.

Before Yuuri had returned to Japan and started training at Ice Castle again, the men’s recreation hockey team practiced for three hours on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights. They rented out the entire rink to themselves and had been doing so for the past three and a half years. Viktor knew that the Nishigori’s were not partial to the hockey team and found them to be a rather rude and destructive bunch, but they paid good money and that was something that they couldn’t afford to let pass them by. It was, perhaps, the hockey team alone that kept Ice Castle afloat during the economic recession that hit their region.

But the Nishigori’s were, at heart, a family of figure skaters. So, when Yuuri came back to Hasetsu they were more than happy to once again allow him access to the rink anytime he wanted provided it was not already booked out. For a while this was enough for Yuuri, after all, he had not really decided on having a competitive season after his last one ended so miserably. He mainly used the rink after closing hours, when the ice was clean and there were no wandering eyes (or in the case of the triplets, phones) to pry oh his private reintroduction to the ice. However, when Viktor blew in with the winter storm things changed, fast.

Ice time soon was something that Yuuri was needing and Viktor gladly booked Ice Castle for them, typically a day at a time. Tuesdays and Thursdays worked for them at first. Yuuri wasn’t allowed to touch the ice to train but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t learn from watching Viktor skate himself. After long runs and grueling weight training sessions in the gym, Yuuri would spend hours at a time watching and absorbing Viktor’s technique with nary a word passed between them.

As soon as Yuuri was ready to touch the ice, Yurio mysteriously appeared in all his angst-filled glory and ice time was needed in larger quantities. This meant stepping on a few toes, or rather skates, as Viktor appealed to the Nishigori’s for help. Viktor offered to pay double the usual rate for the hours the hockey team utilized in exchange for a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. It took a lot of convincing, but Viktor secured their much-needed ice time and the hockey team begrudgingly moved their practices to Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning,

Their first Wednesday practice was marred, however, by every locker in the locker room being covered in crusted over shaving foam. A gift from the hockey team for the new arrangement. Viktor prided himself on his ability to remain level headed in most situations. This, however, was not one of those situations. His anger seemed to amplify when he was in direct contact with Yurio who allowed a string of Russian expletives flow freely like a sailor who hadn’t seen land or a woman in months. Yuuri on the other hand just went to the cleaning closet, collected a bucket of water and a rag, and began cleaning the lockers.

Friday morning the trio arrived early just in case there were any other nasty surprises awaiting them in the locker room. Luckily, there was nothing more than the overwhelming stench of man sweat that typically followed one of the hockey team’s practices. They thought that they had got away scot-free until they went to hit the ice and found it to be unfinished with large divots carved out in random places. This time it was Yuuri who was angered by what the hockey team would later call a ' harmless prank’.

Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s hand and pulled him along to the office where they waited for Yuuko to show up. Yuuri relayed what had happened to her in a calm manner but made it very clear that something needed to be done. Upon seeing the chaos of the rink herself Yuuko agreed and called for a meeting between the skaters and the leaders of the hockey team later that night.

Viktor, Yuuri, And Yurio took their time patching the ice carefully, ensuring they packed each divot well with ice shavings before giving it a cleaning with the Zamboni. Yuuri was silent through the process but Viktor could feel the anger radiating off of him in waves. It seemed like he took it personally.

Later that night while they awaited the representative from the hockey team, Viktor lounged against the wall along the back of the office while Yuuri stood a few paces in front of him, eyes glued to the security footage that was paused on the small TV in the corner. Yuuko sat behind her desk, a small stack of papers in front of her, occasionally thumbing through them to ensure everything she needed was there. The knock on the door seemed to jar Yuuri out of his thinking as the door swung open and admitted a large muscular man who was dressed as a repair technician. Viktor assumed he must have come directly from work.

“I assume you know why I asked you to come in tonight?” Yuuko asked Eiji Shimoto, the captain of the hockey team.

“Sorry to say that I don’t really. You said that you wanted to review our unofficial contract with the rink.” He sounded genuine, it was a good act, but the lie angered Viktor.

He stepped forward until his chest was practically resting against Yuuri’s back and then proceeded to bury his face in Yuuri’s hair managing to both startle and completely fluster the man in the process.

“Wah-! Get your face out of my hair!” Yuuri yelped in a panic as he pulled away and turned to look at Viktor with a bright red face.

“I’m just trying to mask the smell of the shit floating around,” Viktor said innocently as he pegged Shimoto with a glare. Shimoto did his best to look confused but his face suddenly fell as Yuuko turned on the television and played the security footage for everyone to see. The entire hockey team was seen purposefully chipping away at the ice with the tips of their skates. Shimoto at least had enough decency to look at the floor in shame after he realized that he had been caught.

“You are lucky that Yuuri came to me and not my husband with this kind of information otherwise I am sure that there would be worse consequences then your team not being allowed to practice here any longer.” Yuuko may have been a small woman but she spoke with such authority that Shimoto said nothing in response.

“What you did was reckless.” Yuuri followed up, his voice was as sharpened with the anger that he held back all day. “The three of us that booked this ice time are international champions for our respective countries. Viktor here is an Olympic gold medalist. This is how we make our living.” He took a step closer to Shimoto who seemed to have shrunk in the process of the verbal lashing.

“You could have ended someone’s career. All it would have taken is one of us not noticing a single gouged piece of ice while we were patching up your mess and hitting it wrong. We don’t hide behind pads that protect us when we fall. When we fall, we don’t tend to do it from a low height because unlike hockey players, we are taught how to fly high above the ice.” He took another step forward and gestured at Shimoto’s outfit.

“Unlike you, we don’t have a day job to fall back on should we be injured in a way that removes us from the ice. What gives you the right to toy with the safety and quite possibly the lives of other people. If you were so opposed to the arrangement, you should have said something instead of acting like toddlers. What kind of adult puts shaving cream all over the locker room because they are upset with an arrangement they agreed to. What kind of human destroys a person’s property because they didn’t like being told that they had to be flexible.” He took one more step forward until he was face to face with Shimoto and then pretended to smell the air.

“Let’s go Viktor, I trust Yuuko can hand the rest of this and I am starting to smell that shit you were talking about earlier.” He abruptly spun on his heels and left the room. All the dazed Viktor could do was follow him as he was told to.

They walked out to the front of Ice Castle before Yuuri slowed his pace and stopped. It was only then that Viktor noticed he was shaking with the anger that boiled inside him. Viktor didn’t think twice before he wrapped his arms around Yuuri, the Japanese man tensing momentarily in his hold before finally relaxing and allowing himself to be held.

“You were brilliant,” Viktor whispered.

“I was angry.” Yuuri quietly countered, “All I could think about the whole day was what would happen if we missed one of the divots. What if-” He sighed in frustration trying to get the words to form in his mouth.

“What if you had hit one of the divots and gotten hurt.” He finally whispered.

“Oh, Yuuri, my sweet Yuuri,” Viktor whispered back and held him tighter. They stood there for a long moment saying nothing beyond that. A part of Viktor didn’t want this moment to end, it was the first time that Yuuri had allowed him physical contact since the banquet at the Grand Prix. But the logical side of him knew that it was getting late and after a hard day of training Yuuri was more than likely running on fumes.

“Come now,” He said gently stepping back, “Let’s go home”

#yuri katsuki #Viktor with a k #Viktor Nikiforov #vicuuri #Yuri on ice #writing prompt

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nomorelonelydays · 5 years

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kick your pretty feet up on my dash

Part 1 | Part 2

Two days after the Instagram account opens, Sidney unofficially gets put on naming duty.

The strawberry shortcake biscuit is named The Taylor.

The cream cheese-stuffed banana muffins, crusted with dark chocolate ganache, is The Fleury.

The slice of warm spiced peach cobbler (available for just two weeks), topped with a generous portion of thick, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream, is The Deidre.

He shares the account password with her, but she seems more interested in digging up her mom’s old recipes from an ancient box filled with yellowed index cards than photographing.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” she says, then passes him a card titled, ‘Cherry Layer Chocolate Cake.’ “I think I’ll make this for the holidays. What do you think?”

Deidre makes just one and a half cakes for a trial run (the other half, which had come out lopsided, is sitting in the back of Sidney’s fridge). It’s another instant hit.

Sidney watches a couple, two teenagers who are making it pretty painfully obvious that they’re on their first date, split a slice in a corner seat. She’s chasing the cherry around the plate with her fork, and he watching her like she hung the literal moon. He laughs a little too hard at her jokes, his eyes crinkling like Geno’s when he’s chirping Sidney. But with the way she’s beaming, it’s clear that she doesn’t mind at all.

He’s not jealous—or, at least, he doesn’t think he’s jealous. Having hockey and having a boyfriend have always been mutually exclusive. But now, with no obligations to the NHL, he’s supposedly free to do everything that he’s wanted to. He doesn’t dwell too long on it though, because the last thing he needs is to have an existential spiral in Deidre’s store over whether or not he’s missed his his golden hour to be happy the exact minute the Penguins drafted him all those years ago.

He finishes lettering the card for the cherry chocolate cake and slides ‘The Jack’ neatly into its proper holder.

Geno calls him on Thursday nights now, like clockwork. He’s grateful for the routineness of it, especially when he knows how much Geno lives on spontaneity. It’s always the same—updates on how the team is doing (good, the weather over in Pittsburgh (not so good), another dumb prank the rookies are trying to pull (hilarious, but slightly unoriginal with the shaving cream), even though it’ll never be as good as the ones Flower used to plan.

“How are you?” Geno asks one night, while Sidney is puttering around the kitchen to figure out what he wants to make for dinner. “Your tomatoes grow?”

“I think those are a goner,” Sidney grimaces. The entire plant had shriveled up weeks ago, despite Sidney faithfully watering them. “Guess I’ll just have to stick with the storebought ones.”

Geno is silent for a bit. Then, “Is quiet in locker room without you.”

Sidney pauses. “I doubt that’s true.” There’s plenty of rookies every year, eager to prove themselves on the ice and to establish themselves as a personality on the team. Besides, Sidney has never been the life of the party—that’s always been Geno himself.

“No, is quieter.” Geno sounds like he’s swallowing a yawn. “Different without you.”

Sidney’s heart flounders, and he has to blink a couple of times before his throat unclogs. “Maybe you should get to sleep. It’s pretty late over there.”

“No, I’m not tired,” Geno mumbles, sounding very drowsy. Sidney can almost picture Geno, hair-mussed and sleepy eyes about to close as he curls up on his mattress. “Want to keep talking.”

“I know you have practice tomorrow, G,” Sidney says. “You have the C now, you can’t get there two hours late anymore.”

“I’m never late,” Geno huffs. “You too early.”

“Get some rest,” Sidney says gently. “I’ll still be here next week, same as usual.”

“Maybe I call tomorrow.’

“I won’t go anywhere.”

“Wish you still here, Sid,” he murmurs. “Miss you so bad, some days.”

Sidney doesn’t miss a beat. “I miss you, too,” he whispers, because any louder and he knows his voice will crack. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after, if you still want to call.”

“Okay,” Geno says. “Okay.”

Sidney’s restocking the brioche rolls when Deidre’s voice casually pipes up from the coffee machine, “You have a secret admirer, you know.”

“I know. It’s Samantha. PTA President,” Sidney says, trying to not sound exasperated. He only knows her name and title because she must’ve giggled it at him as a greeting every single time she’s marched in. “She asked me what the main ingredient was in the banana muffins and I told her banana like, three times.”

“She just likes to hear you say banana. And no, it’s not Sam.” Deidre makes a come hither motion with her hands and slides a napkin towards Sidney. “Yesterday afternoon, there was a young man, maybe around his 30s, who stopped by for a latte and he asked where you were.”

“Oh.” There’s something he can’t name fluttering in his stomach. The words on the napkin scrawled out, Jeremy, and a string of numbers. “What did you say?”

“I told him, ‘He’s a cute one, isn’t he? He’s the store eye candy, bringing in all the sales.’”

“Dee, you didn’t.”

“I did, and he went full red. It was adorable. And I told him that you pop in in the mornings and in the afternoon to help with opening and closing.” She leans forward, grinning. “I’m just saying, think about it.”

He thinks about it.

At night, he tells Geno, “I think I have a secret admirer. Or a stalker.”

Geno’s voice suddenly becomes infinitely more awake. “Have what? Someone stand outside your house? I read about this before, you need call police.”

“No, it was at the bakery. I got his number on a napkin. Well, the owner gave me his name on a napkin, so I don’t really know what he looks like. He could be 100. People in this town are usually…around that age range.”

Geno still sounds perplexed. “So say no.”

“What?”

“Say sorry, only go on dates with girls. But thank you.”

Sidney’s brain feels like it’s stuttering to a pause. “Geno, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“I don’t ‘only go on dates with girls.’ I—” Well, to be quite fair, he hasn’t gone on any dates at all. “You know this.”

It takes a full ten seconds for Geno to crackled back to life on the line again. His voice is hesitant. “You only bring girls to events. Like Halloween, or—”

“They’re my friends, I’ve told you. I’m not going to bring a guy in front of you guys,” he exclaims, then reigns in his voice. His heart is beating like a jackhammer boring straight through. “Hey, listen, I have a pretty early day tomorrow, I’ll talk to you next week, okay?”

“Sid, wait—”

He hangs up and puts his phone face down on the nightstand. It’s not his proudest moment.

I’m sorry(((, the text reads. The timestamp indicates that the message had been sent at 2 AM. You should go on a date with secret guy. Maybe he’s secret Ryan Reynolds.

Geno’s texts are never longer than five words, usually cryptic versions of a yes or no, accompanied by eyeless smilies. Sidney wonders if he’d been painstakingly worrying over each word since Sidney hastily ended the conversation.

I don’t think he’s Ryan Reynolds, Sidney sends back. Besides, no one in this town knows hockey. That’s gonna be a problem.

Geno’s reply is instantaneous, as if he’d been waiting.

Picky)))))

More messages follow in quick succession, before Sidney can even start typing.

But always best for u. Deserve the best only.

He laces up his shoes and heads to Dee’s.

It snows a little mid-December.

He helps Deidre with the decorations, hanging up tinsel and little snowflake cutouts on the window. She has a box of Christmas lights stored away in a dusty box from the attic, which definitely looks like they haven’t been disturbed since the 80s, but the one of the bulbs dies with a sad fizz the moment Sidney plugs it in. So they have to make do with the other nonflammable options.

The store looks nice. ‘Well-loved’ is a better word for it, with its mismatched decorations and ancient garlands. He snaps a photo of the mini tree on the counter for Instagram before he goes to help Deidre frost the rest of the ornament-shaped sugar cookies.

There’s commotion on the streets from all the tourists and families coming back for the holidays. He thinks about flying to Nova Scotia for the holidays, but then he realizes that none of Deidre’s children will be coming to Cardwell Point.

“They’re busy,” she shrugs indifferently, but she turns her back to Sidney as she busies herself with rearranging the shelfs. “It’s alright. That’s what Skype is for, right? Besides, I have to watch the store.”

He thinks about Geno, who’s probably headed to Florida soon to escape the onslaught of winter chill that he absolutely abhors, no matter how much he loves the city. He could Skype Geno, or Facetime him. Except Geno would always have the angle wrong, and Sidney’s sure he’d just get an on-brand mugshot of Geno’s nostril from the bottom up for the whole conversation.

He did ask Sidney if he wanted to go to Florida, except the way he had asked had felt like a given tagged with a question mark at the end (Florida w me this year?). Nonetheless, Sidney had been tempted.

But he also wonders if he’d feel even more homesick when Geno is physically standing in front of him again, all tall and loud and too big, too much, too many years of his unrequited love staring at him and making Sidney think that he has a chance. He doesn’t want to go to Florida to watch Geno pick up strangers at a club.

“I’m not going anywhere, either,” he tells her.

She looks over, finally, pursing her lips like she’s trying to hold back her smile.

@DeesBakeryandCafe

Season’s greetings and a happy New Year to our wonderful customers and families here in Cardwell Point. Hope everyone is spending time with their loved ones this holiday season.

Winter refuses to go. The clouds hang over the streets stubbornly, and each days trudges on like it’s dragging its feet.

He misses skating.

He misses Geno. Especially as it gets closer to February and teenagers and adults alike start coming to the shop in twos, their gloved hands clasped together as they squeeze through Dee’s tiny corridor when it’s really much easier to be in a single-file line.

He’s not jealous. He is not.

But he is lonely. And really fucking cold.

He serves up at least thirty slices of The Jack, which is apparently the most popular item these days thanks to Instagram. Deidre switches up the decoration, so the cherry-glazed design in the middle forms a big, gaudy heart. The Internet completely eats up. Sidney doesn’t understand it.

“It’s like a Titanic reference, right?” a customer asks, as he picks up the cake for his wife. “Like, an ‘I’ll never let you go,’ kind of thing. Jack and Rose?”

“Sure,” Sidney says. It’s really for his first childhood crush, but he can work with the Titanic.

The moment Deidre fills her last custom order of The Jack (and there had been plenty of those, for anniversaries to birthdays to just becauses), she tells Sidney that she’s figured out how to make her mother’s cheesecake.

“Finally worked out how to stop the goddamn filling from clotting,” she says, cutting him a slice. The cake has a brownie bottom, and the inside is perfectly creamy and smooth and dotted with dark chocolate chips. “What do you think?”

“I’m biased,” Sidney says, trying to not scarf down the whole thing like an animal. “I love cheesecakes. This one is my favorite so far.”

“Good,” she tells him. “You can name this one, then.”

His fork stops mid-air. “Weren’t you going to call it ‘The Lily’?”

She pats his arm affectionately, not unlike the day she did when Sidney told her why he ended up at Cardwell Point. “I figured she wouldn’t mind. This can be our second February special. God, I’m sick of The Jack.”

The next week, Sidney carefully slides The Geno in its display cabinet.

(Deidre doesn’t ask about the peculiar name. She never does, and Sidney is grateful.)

After over a decade in the NHL, he’s well aware of what he can and can’t have. But lately he’s been feeling selfish. He snaps a photo of the cheesecake and sends it to Deidre.

It’s a good photo.

“I got invited to a neighborhood potluck yesterday,” Sidney mumbles into the receiver, when Flower asks him how retirement is treating him. “I don’t know what to bring. Maybe I’ll bring something from the bakery.”

“Do you officially work at the bakery or are you just there because the owner is blackmailing you? Does she know who you are?”

“I just help out when I can. And no, I told you, it’s not a hockey town. They do have competitive knitting here. It’s a thing.” Sidney doesn’t have much to do these days, aside from working out and catching up on reading, which means that he does end up doing most of the latter in the café. Maybe he should take up competitive knitting. “I started an Instagram for her shop. We just hit 200 followers.”

“You know how to do that?” Flower asks, because he’s a little shit. “I’m kidding, I know you’re not actually a senior citizen.”

Sidney rolls his eyes. “I haven’t checked it in a while though. I let Deidre handle the posting now. It’s her shop, anyways.”

“What’s the handle?”

He tells him. Flower is quiet for a bit as he searches through the page. “Pretty cool, eh?”

“Yeah,” Flower says, his voice slightly off. “Yeah, it’s—it’s good. Looks like the real deal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course it’s the real deal.”

Flower makes a noncommittal noise. “Nothing. Cheesecake looks good. Does Geno know?”

“No,” Sidney says. “I mentioned the bakery once or twice. He didn’t ask. Not, uh—not after I told him about Jeremy.”

“Secret napkin man?” Flower remembers. “You didn’t go on that date?”

“No, I didn’t go on a date with ‘secret napkin man,’” he mimics. “I don’t think he’d care.”

“I think he’d care.” Flower always sounds so sure when he wants to be serious, and it’s one of the things Sidney missed most when he left for Vegas—there’d been a metaphorical hollow within the team for a good few months following his departure, and that void never quite got replaced no matter what.

“Maybe.”

Sidney can only hope. But he’s a little too old for hoping these days.

Foot traffic is slower when they hit March, but Deidre promises that it’ll pick up when Cardwell Point’s 11th Annual Theater Festival starts in the middle of the month, because that’s apparently the other big thing aside from the 4th of July Carnival Bash. Sidney has just packed up another dozen of red velvet cupcakes for Samantha the PTA Queen when the front bell jingles.

“Hello? I’m look for—”

Sidney heart leaps to his throat.

“Sid,” Geno says softly. He looks like the wind knocked him in (it probably had), mismatched Frakenshirts and all. “Hi, Sid.”

Samantha may as well not have even walked into the store at all.

“How are—“ He must be imagining things. But Geno takes another step, until he’s right in front of the counter and Sidney can reach out and touch just how real he is. He hasn’t changed much--still the same eyes, the same nose and lips, and maybe his hair is a bit thinner but he still makes Sidney’s chest feel too small and too big all at once. “Where did you—how are you here?”

“Fly,” Geno says sheepishly. “Wanted to see you.”

“What about—”

“No games until Friday.” He’s staring at Sidney like he’s looking his fill and he can’t get enough. “I—I see your post, and I just—buy ticket.”

“What post?”

Geno pulls out his phone and flips through it until he lands at a familiar Instagram account. He passes it over to Sidney, his hands warm as it brushes against Sidney’s fingers.

@DeesBakeryCafe

‘I love you’ tastes a lot like our chocolate chip cheesecake, The Geno.

“Oh,” Sidney breathes. “Oh.”

#retirement fic #sidgeno #okay!!! getting closer to the final part #probably wont be any posting during the weekday because need to do Real Job things #but hope you guys enjoy #wish i knew graphic so i can like...make a graphic header

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mensbodywash3 · 2 years

Text

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References List of hairstyles https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_hairstyles

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knifeshoeoreofight · 5 years

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part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

A03

(Here we are at the end!)

The holidays are very different for Sid, this year. This year he has Sofia running around the house in excitement and Zhenya beside him on the couch, an arm wrapped Sid’s shoulders, keeping him warm and grounded.

Sid’s mom comes into the kitchen to find him as he’s loading the dishwasher on Christmas Eve. She gives him a long hug, and when she pulls back she cups his face in her hands.

“You look happy,” she says, taking him in. “I’m so glad, Sid.”

“It hasn’t been long enough for me to feel this way, I keep thinking,” he admits to her.

“Well,” she says, as she adjusts Sid’s shirt collar. “I think there’s something to the expression, when you know, you know. Don’t be afraid of something good because it doesn’t look exactly like what society thinks a relationship trajectory should look like. Because to me? You look happy. You sound happy. And he seems like a wonderful man. That tells me this is a good, good thing.”

Sid gratefully kisses his mom’s cheek. “Thanks,” he tells her.

***

Sofia is getting the kitten for New Year’s. Zhenya wants to do the whole wrapped box-with-air-holes thing because he saw it in a movie somewhere. Sid picks up a festive-looking collar with a jingle bell and a tiny bow on it to complete the scenario.

Sid hadn’t understood when Zhenya had first told him about it. But he spent some time googling Russian New Year’s and now knows how big a deal it is.

It’s the wrong time of year to buy fireworks but he calls around frantically and as it turns out, Phil has some leftover sparklers from the Fourth of July in his garage.

Zhenya’s eyes go wet with tears when Sid breaks out the sparklers, and again when he notices the little paper Ded Morozes and Snowmaidens Sid printed out and hung on the tree with loops of ribbon.

He kisses Sid, deep and sure.

***

On New Year’s Eve Zhenya kicks Sid out of the kitchen and takes over. He sits Sid down in the breakfast nook and doesn’t let him help. Zhenya is a jovial hurricane, using what seems like every pot and bowl and kitchen tool Sid owns. He’s got a dish towel flung over one shoulder and is singing along to Russian pop, badly. Sid loves him so much.

They eat ridiculous amounts of Russian food and Sid gets pink and giggly with vodka.

Sofia is given her kitten, and when she opens the box, her jaw drops and she turns wide eyes to her father and to Sid.

“For me? For keep?” she asks incredulously. And then when she’s told the kitten is hers, she cries big, emotional tears, and both Sid and her father get strangling hugs.

Sid laughs softly as he pats her back. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She hiccups. “The baby is so beautiful!” She wails into Sid’s neck. Sid trades smiles with Zhenya and his family over her head.

***

The period of time after the holidays always feels a little strange and empty. It’s a quiet time for the farm, a snowbound lull between the holiday season and spring planting.

“Sad?” Zhenya asks him, stepping up behind Sid where’s he’s standing looking out the window, to wrap him up in his arms and hook his chin over Sid’s shoulder. “Miss family?”

“That’s part of it,” Sid says. “But I’m not sad, really. It’s just a weird time of the year.”

“Lots of time for think,” Zhenya agrees.

Sid folds his arms over Zhenya’s. “Speaking of thinking.” He pauses, a little afraid. But only a little. “I know it’s probably too fast, and maybe I’m a little crazy to consider it, but, have you been thinking any more about housing?”

Zhenya is very still for a long moment, and then he nuzzles Sid’s neck, pressing a kiss to the thin skin below his ear. “What you thinking, Sid?”

“About the new year, what that means. About what I want the year to look like. Whenever I think about it, all I can picture is you. You and Sofia here, with me.”

More kisses, deep and fervent, to the back of his neck, his hair, and then when Zhenya turns him in his arms, to his cheek and the side of his nose. Finally, Zhenya makes it to his lips. Sid yields easily to him, giddy happiness rising in him at the “yes” he feels in the touch of Zhenya’s mouth and the slide of his hands over Sid’s back and down his sides.

But just to be sure, when Zhenya moves once again to his neck, Sid asks.

“Yes?” It comes out as a sigh.

“Yes, Sid,” Zhenya murmurs into his skin. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

***

He doesn’t tell Zhenya, but he gets a can of pale blue paint at the hardware store and repaints what used to be his guest room. He sponges clouds onto the ceiling in white, and takes apart the dark, heavy old furniture to paint it in shades of dusty pink.

He figures Sofia will hopefully still like the blue walls when she’s older, and the furniture can be repainted or sold if she decides she’s not into pink anymore later.

He enlists the help of Vero to find a fluffy white bedspread with little gold horse silhouettes all over it, and a lamp with a ceramic unicorn as the base. He tries to have all of it be kind of realistic, not too cartoony, so it’ll grow with her. He tries to think of stuff girls would like, like wooden pegs for scarves and necklaces and things, and a felt bed for her kitten shaped like a cat head with ears.

He manages all of it without Zhenya seeing it, and it helps fill the long winter hours.

He worries a lot about it it being presumptuous, or it not being his place. But he wants Sofia to feel comfortable and at home.

The same for Zhenya. He clears half of his closet, and half the dresser drawers. He finds himself worrying about little things, such as if Zhenya will like the bedspread or if there’s enough room on the dresser for any pictures Zhenya will want to put up.

When he calls Taylor to fret at her, she tells him to relax.

“If he feels the way I’m pretty sure he does, minutia like that won’t matter,” she soothes.

“I just want him to feel like it’s his home too,” Sid says.

“Your house is awesome, don’t even worry about it, Squid.”

Sid tries to take her word for it.

***

Zhenya and Sofia don’t have a lot of belongings, thanks to the moving around they’ve done. They have a a couple suitcases between them, and a handful of boxes, mostly full of books Zhenya needs for teaching. Everything fits in the back of Sid’s pickup.

“Had to get rid of almost everything, lots of my favorite books,” Zhenya says, sadness tight around his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sid leans over to kiss him across the gear shaft, and vows to himself to put in a set of built in bookshelves in what used to be the formal parlor of the farmhouse. They don’t need it, what with the cozy family room. It’ll make a great office for Zhenya though, with its windows looking over the fields. After that, they can start rebuilding his book collection. There’s extra income coming in from the partnership with Tanger’s distillery, not to mention Zhenya’s teaching salary. They can manage it.

“What you smiling at?” Zhenya asks, bemused.

Sid uses the opportunity presented by a stop sign to lean over and kiss Zhenya again.

“Just happy.”

***

Ref dances happily around them as they get everything inside. There’s mud and slush tracked in and Zhenya makes himself anxious about it until Sid reassures him that it’s easy enough to clean, just part of winter where they live.

“Let’s get Sofia settled first, eh?,” Sid says, twitchy with excitement. He so hopes she likes her room. “I set the old guest room up for her.”

They troop up the stairs, and Sid swings the door open. It looks good, he hopes. He’d shut her kitten in here earlier and he’s asleep in a little ball on the bedspead, and there’s snow-bright light coming in through the sheer curtains Vero picked out.

Sofia gasps, and steps slowly inside, like she’s afraid to believe it’s real.

Zhenya has seen what the guest room had looked like before. He looks around, mouth agape, as Sofia bounces around the room, exclaiming over her kitten and the unicorn lamp and the ceramic horse on the windowsill.

“It’s Puck!” She exclaims. Sid laughs.

“That was my Aunt Esther’s. She and my Uncle Jack had a lot of draft horse knick knacks. I thought you’d like that one.”

“Sid.” The rough edge to Zhenya’s voice makes Sid start upright from where he’s been crouching to talk to Sofia.

“Wha—“ he starts to ask, heart in his throat, but it’s broken off by Zhenya grabbing hold of him and pulling him in to an embrace so tight it’s just this side of painful.

“Zhenya,” Sid wheezes, and Zhenya’s arms loosen instantly.

“Sorry Sid, sorry,” he says. “Just—don’t know how—“ he takes a shuddering breath and murmurs something that doesn’t sound like straight Russian or English into Sid’s hair. Sid waits patiently for him to gather his words.

“Keep wondering and keep wondering, how you real,” he finally says.

“I could say the same about you,” Sid says, thinking of the time before he’d met the both of them. The loneliness of it. He rests his head on Zhenya’s shoulder and lets Zhenya sway them a little, like they’re dancing without any music.

Over Zhenya’s shoulder he can see Sofia curled up around her kitten on her new bed, eyes bright as she smiles at the both of them.

***

It’s a busy morning, Sid’s been up since dawn doing chores. When he comes back into the house, Zhenya is up, sleepy eyed, hair standing on end as he hunts for the messenger bag he takes to work. Sofia is at the kitchen table supposedly eating breakfast but actually trying to feed Ref bits of toast.

“Living room, babe,” he tells Zhenya, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “You were grading papers in there last night, remember?”

Zhenya groans. “Essays so bad, Sid. So bad. Tiny freshman babies are hopeless.”

Sid laughs as he checks the coffeemaker and digs Zhenya’s travel mug out of the cupboard. “Good thing they have you, then.”

Zhenya grins at him. “Sofia and me already feed cats and Ref. You going to meet Kris today?”

“Yeah, later. Need anything from town?”

“Out of shaving cream.”

Sid adds it to the shopping list on the fridge and noisily kisses Sofia’s cheek. “Ref shouldn’t have that, hon. Where’s your backpack?”

“I pack it already,” Sofia says. “Can Ref come in the car?”

“He need to keep Sid company,” Zhenya says. “So he’s not lonely. It’s important job.”

“Ref,” Sofia says, solemnly putting her hands on either side of the dog’s face. “Be nice for Sid.”

Ref whines and licks her face, because Sofia has become his favorite person in the universe and he adores her.

Sid stands on the porch and waves them off. Pretty soon school will be out for Sofia, and she’ll be home all day. He’s looking forward to it. On the weekends she’s his shadow, and she loves helping him out as much as he decides is safe for her to do.

Six months, he thinks. Sofia and Zhenya have been living at the farm for six months now. It’s June, and the apples are starting to show hints of the colors they’ll blaze with in September.

It shouldn’t have worked out this well, by all the common wisdom about relationships. It hasn’t been picture perfect every step of the way. And yet. He’d buy Zhenya a ring tomorrow, if he gave in to his impulses.

Reminding himself to be patient is the hardest part of all of this, and it’s a burden light enough.

***

In the evening he has Zhenya and Sofia both to help out with evening feed and putting all the animals up for the night.

Dinner is quiet, but content, as Zhenya recounts a ridiculous department meeting and Sofia tells about the book her teacher read them today. Sid updates Zhenya on the state of the orchards and the u-pick berry fields.

“That and produce stand this year,” Zhenya says. “Glad you have Jake to help.”

“For sure.” Sid eyes Sofia. “Eat those peas, sweetheart. Those are the ones you helped me with, remember? Remember the little baby plants we started in the sun porch?”

Sofia frowns at the vegetables on her plate but starts to eat them.

Sid is just telling Zhenya that another Amazon package of books came for him when Sofia interrupts them,

“Is Sid my dad?” she asks, and Sid can’t breathe.

“Is that what you want?” Zhenya asks her gently.

“We read book yesterday,” she says, frowning thoughtfully. “And there’s a boy who have a papa and a daddy. I have a Papa. So is Sid my dad?”

Zhenya looks over at Sid, eyes soft, expression saying that it’s up to them. “What do you want Зайка?” he asks Sofia, still looking at Sid.

Sofia looks at her father; then at Sid. “Do daddies go away?” she asks, voice small. Sid’s heart aches. She has to be thinking of her mom.

He reaches out for Zhenya’s hand as an unspoken question. Zhenya takes it, and looks back at him, steady and certain.

“No,” Sid says, voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere. And I— if you want to call me that, I would be so happy—“

She catapults herself off of her chair and into his arms. He rocks her back and forth a little, feeling too big for his skin, like what he’s feeling is filling the room.

“Dad,” she whispers into his shirt, and he hides his tears with a kiss to her hair, feeling Zhenya’s hand settle warm on the back of his neck.

***

Epilogue- a year and a half later

They’re married in the spring, when their orchards are foaming with pink and white blossoms.

There are lights strung up between the trees as twilight falls blue and heavy. Candles flicker in glass jars all up and down the long tables they’ve all gathered around to eat at.

The night is laughter and music and the heady bubbles of champagne. At one point Zhenya is called upon to make a speech. He raises his glass and smiles down at Sid, eyes soft and red-rimmed from all the emotion of the day.

“First time I’m see Sid, know he’s special. Second time I’m meet him, know it’s hopeless, know I’m going to fall in love. We dating for one month when I’m start thinking about how good a ring look on his finger. Nobody else I want to spend life with, nobody else be such a good father to my daughter.”

Sid kisses Zhenya fiercely as soon as he’s back within reach, then buries his face in Zhenya’s shoulder until he’s composed enough to face everyone again.

There’s a furious tinkling of silverware against glasses and more cries for a speech and so he clears his throat and tries to articulate what he’s feeling.

“I, uh. I always felt like something was missing. Thought it was something I was never really going to find, and that I’d have to resign myself to living without.”

He feels Flower reach over and grip his shoulder in comfort. “Then, I find out that missing thing is you. You and Sofia. You—”

His voice cracks, and when he goes on it’s hoarse with feeling. “You both make me so happy. So, so happy. I love you, so much.”

It’s Zhenya’s turn to pull Sid into a kiss, and Sofia scrambles out of Taylor’s lap to climb into Sid’s and nestle against his chest.

The speeches continue, and as Jack recounts some embarrassing high school memory, Sid looks around, as the smiling, candle-lit faces, at the beautiful trees, at his horses grazing peacefully in the falling dusk beyond the lights. At the glowing faces of his husband, and his daughter.

Sid takes a deep breath, perfumed with the scent of apple blossoms, and lets the deep happiness of the night settle into his body, and wrap itself warmly around him.

#sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #if wishes were #dana writes a thing

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