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#no I'm not rabid#i told myself if i got into grad school I'd go on a trip#and if I didn't get into grad school I'd ALSO go on a trip albeit for other reasons#and I haven't gone to a new country since uhhh 2019#but at this point the places left require greater preparation#the dr was kinda pushing for me to not bother with rabies vaxx and just get post exposure shots if necessary#but i spent all these years learning chinese might as well put it to use badgering doctors to vaccinate me for rabies#i did not in fact get into grad school (this time) but i did do pretty well on the mandarin proficiency exam
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unfortunately i am covetously watching the eater video that's just a tour of zabars
#is zabar's overrated or good? ny mutuals write in i need to know#while i have recently talked some shit re: nyc i will readily say that the fact that i have effectively no plans to ever spend extensive#time experiencing nyc food is in fact vexing and sad to me#food#box opener#jewish delis here aint shit. as they say.#chicago did have some good options which is how i know everything sucks now#our favorite north side bagel place just stopped being 24hour and it's ruining my brothers whole life#sometimes he needs a half dozen egg bagels and a quarter pound of smoked whitefish at 3am#i do too but i knew what i was getting into when i decided to go to grad school like some kind of idiot
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#me @ my youngest sister at 6.30 this morning: yooooooo can u draw me a fishy so i can get it tattooed on me?#i drew her some flowers so i want a paralell tattoo with her initials bc she has my initials on her#but i literally have not spoken to her since like may bc i do not talk to my sisters unless we r in the same room. no hate we just dont hav#a lot in common. it makes me a lil sad tho bc im curious abt them. my youngest sister is at least nice to me 😭#ive been thinking abt asking her for ages and last night i was asked abt my sisters so i was like. the time is now#while im still a bit elevated#which has been to my advantage bc i was able to stay v chatty and energetic while talking to ppl. and i think i made some friends#we bonded over fic reading. so theyre a bit. ya kno. girls gays and theys of science#we make the world go round. but its so interesting to hear them talk abt coming to school here bc they both liked where they were and r#leaving their support systems. and im like bruh if i didn't leave the southwest i was gonna die. im so happy to b here#support system? whats that. i talk to my parents once a month and that's it lol. but im gonna try to establish one here#and try to actually make actual friends. this school is way better abt making grad students interact#my last school was not at all like that. but anyway i had fun#and i mean im only at the start of the semester. and im in a good mood. and i kno things will get stressful#but im just really happy i got accepted here#and the longer im here the more clearly i can see how much i was suffering#the funny thing is tho that i wrote this last night and only hours later i was squirming in frustration bc the fact that im back in therapy#means i feel a greater obligation to not b actively self destructive. evil coping mechanisms my beloved#this is y my mum wanted me back in therapy bc im a goodie 2 shoes and when my counselor is like: did u do X the next time i see her. ill b#honest and itll b annoying >:-[ ugh#its just hard for me to b around ppl a lot bc i get stuck in mental loops bc ocd. which is exhausting. and i want it to stop#and i want to do bad things to make it stop but i wont bc im trying to b better#its just funny to me that ill go from everythings awful to everythings great i shoukd talk to my sisters and make friends and do this and#this and this. to oh god i cant do this anymore in such short time frames with certainty that how im feeling is how ive always felt#ive also noticed that my peaks of high energy do come before stressful events. which does make me worry for future stressful events. like#defending. i mean ive never gone fully off the tracks but its a lil alarming when it feels like the train is going at a million miles an hr#unrelated#meanwhile my other sister is apparently in Colorado but when i saw the pics is was like: YOU BITCH#R U CLOSE TO ME RN??? but no. Colorado is far away
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out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?
A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!
I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.
BUT THEN…
I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!
Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)
For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.
I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”
For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)
Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!
I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.
My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!
Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.
The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!
(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)
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Tyler Owens x Reader: I Choose You
Request: Anonymous said: "jealous tyler or jealous reader would be interesting to read 👀"
Word count: 3.8k
Warnings: none!
A/N: not sure how i feel about this one but I gave it a go and wanted to make sure I posted!
Tyler tells himself that he’s over thinking… maybe even reading too much into things.
But God, he swears he isn’t imagining the way that you and the reporter he’d agreed to let tag along for the next week naturally interact with one another with such ease.
Tyler is not a jealous person– he’s confident and secure and he trusts you. Jealousy is petty and it’s stupid. And Tyler’s been trying his whole life to prove to himself and everyone around him that he’s not stupid.
Tyler has a loose shock to repair before the storm they’ve been tracking rolls in later that day. He’s currently laying on the dirt at the rest stop they’ve pulled in, with a wrench in his hand. Dani’s shining their flashlight for him, and it’s important he stays focused. And he tries… really, he does.
But Tyler looks up just as the reporter laughs at a joke you’ve made. And then, he reaches out to touch your arm for the added effect. Tyler nearly drops the wrench he’s holding on his face at the sight.
“Easy, T,” Dani says, studying him closely.
He takes a deep breath before looking back towards the truck.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Dani asks, kicking his shoulder gently with their boot.
“Nothing,” Tyler grumbles in a tone that screams there is absolutely something wrong. Thankfully Dani doesn’t push.
…
Throughout the rest of the week, Tyler tries to talk himself down whenever jealousy rears its ugly head. He keeps telling himself that he’s being irrational– you’re not flirting with the reporter everytime you walk with him into the gas stations they stop at, or offer to ride with him in the van instead of Tyler’s truck, where you normally sit. You’re just trying to be friendly… make him feel at ease.
But did he really have to look at you that way while you studied the GPS monitoring system? Or share his fucking cookies with you when everyone ate lunch in the field? And did you have to laugh so loudly at every single joke he made?
Tyler finds out on the second night he’s tagging along that Henry’s a fucking Columbia grad on top of a stupid self-proclaimed comedian. The two of you are sitting around the fire talking about graduate degrees when Henry turns towards him.
“Did you two meet at school then?” Henry asks.
Tyler smiles, but instead of warmth it’s laced with sarcasm. “Nope, I don’t have one of those fancy degrees, Henry. In fact, none of us but her do.”
Henry turns back towards you and proceeds to ask more questions about your time studying meteorology at the U of A. Meanwhile, Tyler is left to simmer in his own self pity, wondering if it bothered you that he isn’t educated like Henry.
Tyler has to spend the rest of the week fighting the urge to make it known you’re his– he’s had thoughts of keeping a permanent hand planted on your waist right in front of Henry. Maybe if he pulled you in for a kiss a little more often, and really claimed you as his, this guy would back the hell off.
But Tyler quickly shakes away the thought.
Because claiming you like an object is stupid, and Tyler is not stupid.
…
Tyler grabs you a coffee from the nearest gas station and brings it back to the motel because he’s really trying to move past all this shit. You’re sitting with Lilly and fiddling with the drone when he tries to hand it to you.
You offer him an appreciative smile that warms his entire chest. Tyler’s definitely been overreacting, because you’re looking at him with such love and admiration in your eyes.
“Thanks, but I’ve already had some today,” you say, crushing every hope inside of him in an instant. “Why don’t you give it to Dani? They take their coffee the same as I do.”
“When did you have time to get coffee?” he asks, trying to play it cool.
You reply so simply, like the words don’t slice right through his heart. “I didn’t, Henry brought me one.”
Tyler’s jaw tightens. It’s a gesture you don’t notice, because you’re too busy focusing on the drone half in your lap.
What you do seem to notice, is the way he scoffs. It makes yours and Lilly’s heads both turn.
But before you can reply, Tyler’s already walking away. He clutches the coffee firmly in his hand and without a word, drops the full cup in the trash can outside the motel.
…
Tyler has to remind himself that he’s not angry.
At least not at you.
You and him have a great relationship. He trusts you and that’s all there is to it. Whether it’s Henry or whoever else– you never gave Tyler a reason to be worried.
But Tyler doesn’t like the way seeing you with the reporter makes him feel. Because at any moment, you could leave him for someone with a more respectable career– someone with fair skin and button up polos who just looked like they had their shit together. Someone with a college degree… someone a hell of a lot smarter than him.
Seeing you with him made Tyler feel vulnerable, like he had something to lose– because he had everything to lose.
…
The crew spends another week chasing in Oklahoma. The season’s winding down, but they still managed to catch two EF0s and an EF1.
Tyler’s been avoiding you for most of the week. He’d offer the truck space to Boone and Lilly, he’d sit next to Dexter around the fire at night… hell, he would hardly even look at you.
You turned down his coffee earlier in the week. Only after the fact did you realize that you should have just taken the damn thing. You understand that rejecting him after he went out of his way to do something nice for you hurt his feelings… But you can’t understand how that turned into an entire week of the silent treatment.
On numerous instances, you try to approach him. But he always has somewhere to run off to.
“I gotta help Dani with the van’s oil change.”
“I gotta see if Boone got the footage we need.”
“I gotta give Dexter a hand with the radar.”
You’re getting sick of it.
You try to distract yourself for the rest of the week– you ask Lilly to explain more about how to work her drone, you keep on top of the radar– looking for forming storm cells, and you try to make the reporter Tyler had invited along for the week feel welcome.
Henry’s nice– he’s completely new to storm chasing and has loads of questions all the time. You find it slightly annoying that he’s so interested in Tyler… but you get it. And even though you’re a little irritated with Tyler for your week-long silent-treatment sentence, you still want him to sound as good as possible in the article, so you talk him up every chance you can.
You know that this lack of communication can’t last. And the second Henry goes back to Boston to write his piece, you plan to corner Tyler and force him into telling you what the hell you’d done wrong. But until then, you don’t want to cause a scene. So, you sit back, spend more time talking with Henry about Tyler, and try like hell not to lose your mind.
…
It’s more for his own sanity than anything. It’s like seeing you with Henry has caused this sudden realization to pop into his head… You can do better– and honestly you deserve better than him. The thought is all consuming. It makes focusing on anything else incredibly difficult.
“You gonna tell us what the hell is up?” Lilly asks one day.
Tyler’s currently standing in the bed of his truck, tinkering things that didn’t really need to be fixed just to stay busy.
“What do you mean?” he replies without looking up.
“I mean are you going to tell us why you two love birds haven’t spoken in like three days?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler notices Boone glancing his way with an expression on his face that says he was wondering the same thing.
“We’ve spoken,” Tyler says dismissively.
“Telling her you don’t have room for her in the truck doesn’t count,” Lilly retorts. “C’mon, seriously, Ty. What’s wrong?”
Tyler sets his tool down and looks down at Lilly. “Nothing is wrong.”
Lilly rolled her eyes. “Okay, well are you sure she knows that? Cause Dani and I saw her crying in the bathroom.”
Tyler lets out a long exhale– the thought of you upset instantly filling his insides with sorrow. But the thought that he was the one to make you upset is even worse.
“I know it’s not my business,” Lilly adds. “But I’ve been watching you give her the silent treatment all week, and that’s not going to fix anything. I know Henry’s still here and it’s been a crazy week–”
Tyler can’t help the scoff that escapes his lips at the mention of Henry’s name.
Lilly pauses before a look of understanding washes over her. “You’re pissed that she’s been hanging with Henry.” She says it as a statement instead of a question.
“I’m not–”
“I’ve known you for six years, don’t even try to deny it. You are– you’re jealous, aren’t you?”
With his lips pursed in a thin line, Tyler raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I am. Does that make you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
Now it was Lilly’s turn to scoff. “Of course it doesn’t make me happy. You’re being an idiot.”
“What?”
“I said that you’re being an idiot,” Lilly says, annunciating each word insultingly.
“Yeah,” Tyler nods. “I’m well aware that I’m an idiot, but thanks for reminding me.”
“I said you’re being an idiot, Tyler. Not that you are one. Now stop sulking and fucking listen for once in your goddamn life.”
It’s so out of the ordinary for Lilly to snap that Tyler actually does shut his mouth.
“You invite a reporter on the road with us and then you don’t give him the time of day to answer any of the questions he has. You’re short and curt and to be honest, kind of fucking rude anytime he asks you anything. Y/N is being polite– and she’s hosting the guest you invited along. So don’t fucking blame her just because you’re insecure.”
Tyler can feel the anger rising in his own chest, he wants to get defensive– to snap back at Lilly. But deep down, he knows she’s right, so he stifles any comebacks and instead hangs his head.
Lilly sighs. “You’re not an idiot, Tyler. So stop acting like one.”
…
After letting Lilly’s words really sink in, Tyler decides that she’s right. For the first time all week, he’s motivated to actually talk with you and make things right.
Or at least he is right until he sees Henry approaching you in the parking lot. He’s too far away to hear what Henry has to say. But he’s not so far away that he doesn't see the folded up piece of paper that he passes you.
In an instant, everything Lilly had said– along with all the things he’s said to convince himself he’s been overreacting flies away with the wind. Because Henry just gave you his fucking phone number.
Tyler turns– needing to get as much space from whatever exchange he just witnessed as he possibly can. In a few, long, angry strides, Tyler reaches his truck and climbs inside. In the distance, he hears Lilly call after him. But he pretends he doesn’t hear. Instead, he slams the door shut, starts the ignition and drives away.
…
“Where’s he goin’?” Boone says just as you approach him and the rest of the crew.
“Dunno. He didn’t say anything to you?” Dani asks, turning towards Lilly.
She shakes her head, eyes squinting against the bright sun.
“What the hell is his problem?” you say frustratedly, biting back tears.
Stupidly, you’d let yourself get your hopes up earlier in the day when Tyler had offered you a small smile over breakfast. You had thought that maybe things were alright, and that he was finally over whatever had been bothering him so badly.
But now you’re standing in the cloud of dust he just left behind after taking off in his truck without a word to anyone and you know that isn’t the case.
“Here I was thinking I helped last night,” Lilly says under her breath.
You snap your head in her direction. “You talked to him?”
She shrugs. “I tried to.”
“Did he say why he’s been so upset?”
Lilly hesitates. And truthfully, you understand why. Everyone here was Tyler’s friend first. You were the last to join the crew– inducted into the group just by being Tyler’s girlfriend. They have no obligation to be loyal to you over Tyler.
“Forget it,” you say defeatedly, turning away as soon as you feel the familiar burn of tears behind your eyes. “It doesn’t even matter.” With that, you make your way towards the RV, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes trained on you the entire way.
…
Tyler drives to the nearest gas station, desperate for space to clear his head.
He knows he’s being dramatic and irrational at this point, but if he stayed at that rest stop another second, he didn’t know what would come out of his mouth. He really really had to get it together. But he can’t escape the fear inside of him– the one saying that meeting Henry helped you recognize that you could do so much better than him.
And now you had his phone number, to reach out whenever that realization hit.
Why wouldn’t you be interested in Henry? He’s got a goddamn master’s degree from Columbia, he writes articles for the Globe, works out every morning before they go chasing– apparently makes hilarious jokes…
Tyler rests his forehead against the steering wheel and groans.
…
Tyler’s gone for an hour. But when he finally parks the truck back at the rest stop, he hasn’t shaken the sinking feeling inside of him.
In a preemptive attempt to avoid questions he had snagged a bunch of snacks from the nearest gas station. If you ask where he’s been, he can just say he had a hankering for potato chips and call it good.
Except, you don’t even look at him when he gets out of the truck. Boone’s got corn hole set up in the dirt. It looks like Boone and Henry versus Dani and Dexter while you watch. He only watches for a moment before bringing the bag of snacks into the RV.
Secretly, Tyler’s been simultaneously excited for and dreading the end of the week. He’s excited for Henry to leave and excited to sleep in his own bed. But he’s dreading being back in your shared house. It’ll be the first time the two of you are forced to be alone, and he knows he’ll have to find the words to describe what he’s been feeling.
But apparently Tyler’s stupid, because he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.
All he knows is that he doesn’t want to lose you. And seeing you with Henry makes him feel like he’s about to lose you. Tyler doesn’t know how to say that to you without coming across as a total lunatic.
…
You don’t want to cause a scene at the rest stop. But the minute you see Tyler head for the RV, you’re out of your seat and beelining it towards him while the rest of the team is distracted.
As soon as you hoist open the door, you find him hunched over the fridge, grabbing a water bottle.
“What the hell?” is all you can manage to blurt out. You’re fuming and on the verge of tears. But you can’t help it– Tyler’s silent treatment has just about pushed you to the edge.
Tyler whips around at the sound of your entrance… and maybe it was a little dramatic– but you need to get your point across.
There’s a long pause while Tyler’s eyes study you.
“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me all week?”
You’re met by more silence.
“This is ridiculous, Tyler. Will you just talk to me?”
Finally, Tyler scoffs, “The reporter gave you his number, right? Why don’t you talk to him? I’m sure he’d love to talk.”
In an instant, a wave of understanding washes over you. But it isn’t overshadowed by the anger you feel.
“Are you serious right now? You’re jealous of Henry?”
He shuts the fridge before cracking open his water bottle dismissively, ignoring your questions.
“Tyler, are you forgetting that you’re the one who invited him with us this week? I mean, did you think he was just supposed to sit back and observe? He’s a reporter, of course he’s going to have questions… Questions that you were way more qualified to answer, but you were too busy being a jerk all week to answer any of them. So I did it for you–”
“I never asked for you to do that.”
“You didn’t have to– I did it for you!” you cry. “I did it so that he’d write you a good story– because you deserve that.”
“Oh, how convenient. So you two just get along so well for my sake then?” he says.
You exhale sharply. “Are you kidding me right now? We’ve spent the last week talking about you! I’ve been talking you up– telling him stories about what you do– how good you are at what you do– all the people you’ve helped–”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “Yeah right,” he scoffs.
You pause, anger slowly melting away at the realization that he genuinely didn’t believe anything you were saying.
“Tyler,” you say seriously. “There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Henry. I’ve been answering his questions and telling him how fucking brave and generous and smart you are–”
“Don’t patronize me,” he snaps, voice cracking just slightly. “Just forget it, it doesn’t matter.” He sets his water bottle on the counter before moving to step by you.
“Tyler stop–” you say, reaching for him. But he’s too quick. He reaches the door before you’re able to stop him.
“Will you please stop walking away from me!” you blurt out frustratedly, tears forming in your eyes. “You’ve been running from me all week– I just… I just want to talk about this. Please–”
Tyler doesn’t turn to face you, but to your relief, he stops before opening the door.
“There is nothing happening between me and Henry, Tyler. I mean, I promise you, absolutely nothing– I… I don’t know how else to convince you. But there’s nothing going on. I’m not into Henry–”
“I know,” he says quickly, eyes squeezing shut.
You let your mouth fall open, confusion washing over you. “What?”
“I know there’s nothing happening between you and Henry– I trust you and I believe you.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “So why are you so mad at me?”
Tyler pauses and bites his lip before saying, “I’m not mad at you–” he tries to explain. “I just… I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I don’t understand why–”
You sigh. “Tyler, you’re not making any sense–”
Tyler’s face twists in anguish. “Why aren’t you into him?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s everything I’m not. And I mean– Seeing you with him– it just made me realize that you can do so much better than me,” Tyler says desperately, the pain almost palpable in his voice. “He’s got the fancy degree– he’s obviously smart–”
You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, because the idea of anyone ever being better than Tyler was even more ludicrous than him being jealous in the first place. “Tyler, you’re smart–”
“I didn’t go to Columbia. I didn’t even finish my first year of undergrad.”
“I don’t care about any of that– you know I don’t–”
“Why?” he blurts out harshly, finally turning to look at you. “Why do you even want me when you can have someone like him?”
Tyler didn’t think he was good enough for you– and that admission broke your fucking heart. In an instant, all the reasons you loved Tyler flow through your head. There’s so many, you can’t even keep up.
So instead, you reach into your pocket and pull out the note Henry had given you just hours earlier– the one Tyler apparently saw him give you. He watches as you unfold the piece of paper, quickly revealing that it’s not a phone number.
“It’s his mom’s cookie recipe,” you explain. “The ones you refused to try. I talked to him about how you have a sweet tooth, and I said how much you love chocolate chip cookies, so he wrote it down for me. I thought I might be able to make them for you when we got home. Because I love you– and I love doing things that will make you happy. Because that’s what you do for me– you make me happy. All the time, just by existing.”
You watch as the realization washes over him.
You sigh. “Did you ever stop and think about how I feel the same about you?”
He pauses before looking at you questioningly.
“I mean, you’re you,” you say, gesturing towards him. “People adore you, Tyler. And rightfully so– but I’m always worried you’ll find someone better. But I don’t get hung up on it, because I trust you. I trust that you mean it when you tell me you love me and you choose me. And I need you to do the same for me, Tyler. I need you to trust me. Because I love you– and I always will.”
Tyler exhales, his eyes watery.
“Can you do that?” you plead.
To your relief, after a moment, he nods.
You don’t hesitate before closing the gap between you and wrapping your arms around his middle. You lay your head on his chest just as his arms wind around your shoulders in an attempt to make up for all the hugs you’ve missed out on this week. Because as much as you love chasing in Oklahoma or Texas, your absolute favorite place to be is at home in his arms.
“Cookie recipe, huh?” he muses above you, chin resting on top of your heads.
You nod. “I’m a horrible baker, but I was going to give it a shot.”
Tyler tightens his grip around you. “Well horrible baker or not, I love you and I choose you.”
You let your eyes fall shut and inhale the familiar, comforting scent of him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” you say honestly.
#tyler owens x reader#tyler owens fic#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens fanfiction#tyler owens x reader fic#tyler owens x reader imagine#twisters imagine#twisters fanfic#twisters fic
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For Tuna; The Search Continues
Summary:gn!reader Grin has begun round two of his search for his your sugar daddy. Luckily, this time he got a babysitter for you, so no interruptions!
This is such a crack fic...And I deeply love it 😂
A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.
Part One Part three choose your ending...
"Thank you all for meeting me here," Grim said to the crowd of people. "And thank you all for the gifts. They shall be taken into consideration. Now, today will go as such."
He looked around the room in confusion. "Wait, it appears we are one person short, I guess-"
"Yeah! Me!" Floyd bursted into the room, revealing Jade clutching his cheek, and sitting on the floor.
"What the hell, Sealie! We had a deal! You promised I was in!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Grim shifted in his seat nervously.
"Then I'm gonna squeeze you so hard you have to remember!" Floyd made to rush Grim, as Azul wrapped his arms around Floyd's middle, not even seeming to break a sweat as Floyd "ran" in place.
"Jade, please come get your brother, before he kills Grim and ruins it for everyone."
"I tried to stop him," Jade hummed as he retrieved his brother.
"Sure you did," Azul sighed, casting a quick stun spell so Jade could get him out of the room. Once things had settled down, Grim called for silence again.
He put on a wig styled in your style and color.
"You will court me as though I am Y/N. You will only move on to the next round if you prove yourself here today. Any questions?"
Idia raised his hand.
"Yeah, who are the normies?"
He pointed at the two random Octavinelle students sitting at the table.
"Ah, yes. Two of our applicants couldn't be here today. They have special circumstances surrounding their absences, so they will be doing their tests at a later date. These two are here to remind you all to step it up."
Rook raised his hand. "Not a question, I just want to say your fur is looking soft and luscious today, monsieur Fuzzball."
Leona, Riddle, and Malleus all groaned and mumbled to themselves, while Vil massaged his temples in pure exhaustion.
"Thank you, Rook," Grim said with a smug smirk. "An anonymous donor has been providing me with a new fur product." Rook winked at him before grinning at Vil.
Silver raised his hand. Lilia attempted to shove it down, but it was too late.
"Again, this feels wrong to me. Firstly because Y/N has no idea about any of this, and secondly, because Y/N should pick their lover! I mean we've all known the prefect long enough to know that-"
"Look!" Grim slammed his clipboard on the table, calling for silence. "I've had enough of you and your goody two shoes ways! The only reason you made it through to this round is because the prefect says you're "baby girl", and I want to say I at least tried to think about Y/N in this process, but if you don't get it together, I'm cutting you completely!"
Silver looked at Lilia in wide eyed confusion, and saw Lilia was grinning. He wasn't sure which was scarier. Not knowing what the hell Grim was talking about, or the fact that his father seemed to be very pleased by it.
"If there are no more questions, then I will give you all the scenario. You are to act as though this is your anniversary dinner. Some of you have already lost points, because you forgot a gift," Grim pointedly glared at Silver.
"Oh! I almost forgot. Silver entrusted me with his gift," Lilia said, excitedly pulling out a gift bag.
"No, I didn't."
"Yes. You did."
Silver shrunk into his chair, as Grim happily accepted the present.
"Alright then. Now," Grim cleared his throat, then in a horrendous mockery of your voice, "Let us begin."
….
"Yo! Y/N!"
You heard Ace's voice shout behind you as you kneaded the bread dough Trey had asked you to help with.
You turned over your shoulder, in time to miss Trey's expression darken.
"What's u-"
"Ace!" Trey shouted, startling both of you into silence.
"Perfect timing, I need to speak with you. In private," Trey said through gritted teeth, attempting to cover up his earlier blunder with a smile.
"What? No don't distract me, I'm here to-" but Ace was cut off as Trey not so subtly shoved him out of the kitchen, telling you they'd be back in a minute.
"Trey, with all due respect, what the fuck? You know full well that right now, Grim is running a practice date with-"
"Ace, shut up for just one moment, I'm trying to help you!"
Ace's mouth snapped shut in shock.
"My first question is, did you have to take out a loan to be able to afford to come here?"
"Yeah everyone has to-"
"The kind of numbers we are fighting against is people who have so much money, that they might as well not have even come here, because they definitely don't have to work a day in their lives."
"But Y/N doesn't care about-"
"Ace, seriously. I need you to think this through, or I'm leaving you here to rot," Trey said tiredly. "No, Y/N doesn't care about money. But they care about Grim. Grim, if he's as smart as I'm starting to suspect he is, is going to make his final pick, then spin it as a fairytale choice for Y/N. He'll wait long enough that they have forgotten about him interviewing people, and he'll come in with a sad little face and be like, 'Y/N, you're my family, but I'm worried that I can't give you everything you need.' And he'll continue to say stuff like that, and lay the ground work, until one day he sets up a cutsie spontaneous date in the living room with his chosen suitor."
Ace frowned for a moment. "That's…that's actually pretty smart. But Y/N says Grim's a dumb ass all the time. Why would they listen to his arguments now?"
"Ace, sevens, I shouldn't have to spell everything out for you. There's a difference between "my dumbass friend" and "my dumbass roommate, who is wholly reliant on me, who is also my cat, and who is my only family in this world"."
Ace pouted for a moment, before spitting out, "It's not fair! How are we supposed to even compete then!"
Trey grinned. "Well, we're here, and they're there. The plan doesn't work if Y/N has already picked someone before Grim has."
Ace broke out into a grin. "Trey, you're just as devious as the rest of us!"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Now, do you want to help Y/N and I make bread? This is a one time offer, after this you're on your own."
"Absolutely. Nothing like making bread amongst friends."
….
"Riddle, it was so very wonderful that they allowed you to have our anniversary dinner off," Grim hummed as he cut a piece of meat. "Unlike last year…" he sighed whistfully.
Riddle gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, my rose, but it was unavoidable. I had to perform life saving surgery."
"You always say that. I'm starting to think you are avoiding me…."
Before Riddle could come up with a response, Malleus had risen from his seat and knelt before Grim.
"My treasure, our lives these last few years have been so wonderful, especially since we have been able to provide the Great Grim with his own estate, and a lifetime supply of sea meat. But I feel I cannot truly continue to share anniversaries with you, unless," he looked at the floor bashfully, "Unless they were with you ruling by my side."
Suddenly, a shimmering ring appeared in his hand.
Grim gasped. "Darling!"
"No fucking fair!" Idia shouted.
"Agreed, this stinks of deceit, lizard," Leona spit out angrily.
Rook subtly returned the ring box he'd been holding to his pocket.
"All's fair in love and war!" Lilia said with a boyish laugh. "But I suppose it is time for my move now."
He stood up from his seat, composing himself, before putting on a face of pure horror.
"My little bat, I beg you not to accept his proposal! You see, as his longtime attendant, and closest adviser, and general of his armies-"
"General?" Vil muttered under his breath, as he furrowed his brow in utter confusion.
"Aim high, I guess," Riddle muttered back.
"I have come to the terrible knowledge that, his highness, king of those who worship darkness, and highest of all draconic fae, has been seeing another on the side!"
"No!" Grim gasped.
"That's a vicious lie!" Malleus spit out, a green thunderbolt striking the ground behind him.
"Is it? Then why did I see you roaming the grounds in a lover's embrace with Silver yesterday?"
"What!" Silver shot up from his seat.
"No, that wasn't what it looked like!"
"Malleus! How could you do this to me? And on our anniversary no less?" Grim sobbed.
Malleus rushed to explain himself, while Lilia handed Silver a notecard.
"No! I'm not…I'm not reading this!" Silver exclaimed.
"Just do it! It's fun!" Lilia laughed, completely ignoring the sobbing Grim, and terrified Malleus.
"No! Fa-Lilia, how does this not seem weird to you in any way? How are you okay with any of this?"
Lilia stared at him blankly, before understanding dawned on his eyes. "Oh, right, see because I raised you so well, I sometimes forget you are human. But we do this all the time back home. I've hosted three of these for you already."
Lilia shrugged, totally ignoring Silver's jaw dropping.
"Obviously, no one has been worthy of my precious Silver, but I figure if anyone is it's Y/N. See if you win, you get Y/N, and I've raised the perfect son. If I win…well your odds are high of also someday finding a kick ass person."
Silver would have yelled at his father about the Insanity of his thought process, except he collapsed back in his chair and was asleep.
"That's it!" Grim shouted. "I'm clearly not enough for you! It's over!"
Malleus started sobbing.
"For seven's sake," Vil groaned, before standing up, and stepping around Malleus' fetal positioned body. "Darling, I decided we're finally going to go on that vacation we've always dreamed about. And Grim will obviously come too, with all the gold and food he could ever wish for. Happy anniversary, my apple blossom."
"Oh Vil, how romantic!" The betrayal from earlier completely forgotten, Grim sighed happily.
"But how are we able to afford it?"
"Sorry?" Vil choked.
"Your manager called this morning. She says no one wants to cast you anymore because you're too old."
"Excu-!"
"Vil, you're almost 25 now," Grim said pointedly. "You're practically dead in the industry, and those looks are only going to hold up for so long."
"I bought you an island!" Idia shouted over the table.
"Oh?"
"I bought you an island, and the ocean around it," Azul said with a smirk.
"Oh yeah? And how is Y/N supposed to get there, if I bought all the yachts, and patented all travel technology for myself?!" Idia shouted, hair turning a deep crimson.
"I will turn Y/N into the siren they were always meant to be, and they will swim to our island and oceanic home, far away from the dystopia of you running everything!" Azul hissed.
"Capitalist dipshit!" Idia yelled, before launching himself at Azul, both of them soon wrestling on the floor.
In the chaos, Rook, had snuck over to Grim and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Mon amour, let us escape this room to explore parad-"
Leona yanked him by the collar, looking him right in the face.
"Back away from my mate, hunter."
"Oh Rois des Leones. I shan't surrender to you."
And now Leona and Rook were wrestling.
"Look, darling, I meant to get last year's anniversary off, but-"
"Save it, Riddle," Grim somehow managed to get his sniffle to carry over the fighting. "All you care about is work!"
"It's the only way to afford the lifestyle I want to give you! I want to clothe you in finery the Queen of Hearts could only dream of!"
"If only I could believe that was true, you're only doing this to please your mother."
"I'm not old!" Vil suddenly shouted, as one of the wrestling duos hit the table too hard and caused it to collapse.
Grim pushed back a lock of Vil's hair, and smirked. "Is this a gray hair I see?"
"What?" Vil panicked and pulled out his mirror, before tripping over the still sobbing Malleus.
"Little bat, our romance is forbidden,"Lilia whispered into Grim's ear. "But now that you know Malleus is cheating on you, we can run away together! Start our own kingdom elsewhere! We'll be so happy together!"
"Lilia, I am flattered, but I think I should try to make it work with Malleus…"
"What? After all he's done to you? He tore out your heart and gave it to Silver!" Lilia shouted, before pointing at the seat Silver was passed out in. Or used to be passed out in.
"Where did Silver go?" It was the last thing Lilia got out before getting knocked over by a wrestling duo.
….
Silver wandered aimlessly through the NRC halls, trying to clear his head.
"Silver?" He heard from behind him. He turned and saw Jamil, holding a bag of ingredients.
"If you're looking for, well, everyone, they're baking in Heartslaybul. I'm headed there right now with more flour of you want to come."
Silver nodded, figuring some baking would help him relax. When they arrived he saw you, the first years, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Kalim and Ortho, all baking in harmony.
"Trey, I brought Silver and the flour you texted for- Kalim! What are you doing here!" Jamil's calm voice turned into panicked yelling.
"What do you mean?" Kalim's asked, all confused. But Jamil was already shoving him out the door.
"You're supposed to be at…that thing. Remember? We talked about it?"
"Oh yeah! The thing where grikahzj" Jamil covered Kalim's mouth as they both stepped out the door.
"Well, since Kalim is gone, you can help me with kneading the dough, Silver," you said with a bright smile.
Silver smiled softly, and nodded, before joining you at your station.
….
Epilogue
One week later
"Darling! I'm the headmaster, I can't just take off because our anniversary happens to be in the middle of a school week! You said you understood that when we got married!"
"You told me you were fine that I had a career in fashion! You know I think you are more beautiful than any model, why are you jealous now?"
Grim simpered in his seat, taking a sip of his apple juice, before saying in his Y/N voice, "I think we should see other people. Happy anniversary."
"No!"
....
Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst grim#floyd leech#jade leech#azul ashengrotto#twst silver#lilia vanrouge#rook hunt#riddle rosehearts#ace trapolla#trey clover#leona kingscholar#jamil viper#kalim al asim#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#malleus draconia#dire crowley#divus crewel
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Vice;Grip || chapter 5 || chs
(banner by @itaeewon)
Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!
//
Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.
Section Specific Warnings: language, depictions of depression and depressive episodes, mentions of doctors' offices and medication, angst, mentions of attending therapy, recreational drinking, kissing
wc: 6.9k
Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on
Now - Fall
Vernon’s watching his ceiling fan when his phone chimes - a noise he isn’t fond of: incoming email.
For the last few months, his emails have all been from recruiting directors and head-hunters - either thanking him for his interest but regretfully informing him they’ve gone in a different direction, or head-hunters pretending they found him a great opportunity when it was really an underpaid, short-term position where he’d spend more on his commute into the city than he’d ever earn.
It’s been real fun. He sucked it up and finished grad school, threw his diploma behind a cheap frame, added the degree to his resume. Quit going to classes (because there weren’t any), quit spending whole nights on assignments (none of those anymore either), and still - he finds himself no happier than he’d been before, even with all the free time in the world. So maybe, he considers, grad school wasn’t the problem, and he’d done the right thing to just push through and finish.
On top of this - on top of the fact that he was still bored with life, still unenthused to be here - the break-up has sucked, just to make things even bleaker for him.
Can he even call it a break-up? You were never together. But it’s been nine days since he made you cry in his car - not that he’s counting - and all nine of them have fucking sucked. He’s wrestled with indecision for all of them - did he make a mistake? Should he try to undo the damage? Wasn’t what he had with you still better than being alone?
But he knows this will be better for him in the end. He knows that what you two were doing together wasn’t real, wasn’t a relationship. It couldn’t grow with him - it was stagnant by nature. So, even though something in his bones screams at him to take it back, in the end he doesn’t regret the decision to try and do something better.
He does regret that he can’t do something better with you. He regrets that he lost his temper and yelled, regrets that he was cold in his last moments with you.
Regrets that he spent two years walking towards a dead end.
Still misses you, despite this.
He picks up his phone and scrolls to his email, already feeling the frown take over his face in anticipation of another rejection. As expected, the email is from a company he’d interviewed with last week - he’d even gotten to a second in-person round, which was rare. Still, he hadn’t wanted to get excited about it. He knows how unlikely it is that they’ll want him.
Dear Mr. Chwe,
Our team was delighted to meet with you last week. We found your background impressive, especially your internship experience with -
Vernon’s eyes skim the page, so fast the words are a blur.
…Would like to formally offer you the position of… annual salary of… additional opportunities within the company including traveling to… working with… reporting to… expected start date of… we are looking forward to having you on our team!
Vernon’s heart thuds and he turns the screen off and stares at his ceiling again. He’ll answer it later, accept it graciously, call his eomma, probably shop online for some button-downs and maybe some ties. Later, though. Later. For now, he reaches for his lighter.
He kind of wishes he could tell you - hey, I got a job offer. hey, guess who gets to wear a suit five days a week now? hey, all that bullshit paid off in the end.
Would he have texted you any of that if he hadn’t ended things? You’d never talked about this kind of thing - that had been part of the problem.
Still. As illogical as it is, you’re the one Vernon wants to tell first. It aches a little, like sore muscles but somewhere inside him, behind his brittle ribs.
He wonders if you’re doing okay. He wonders if you care at all, or if you’re fine. He turns his lighter over and over in his fingers, and then realizes he’s just read the words contingent on... drug test…
“Fuck,” he grumbles, then picks up his phone again. Maybe he’ll call his mother first, after all.
—
You were never a big fan of autumn. A lot of your friends are - the season shifts and everyone starts posting about sweater weather and PSLs, the aesthetics suddenly revolving around pumpkins and ghosts.
You have plenty of ghosts, but not the right kind.
Your phantoms haunt your phone, mostly. You feel it buzz in your pocket, hear it vibrate on the table from the other room. Sometimes you even wake up from a dead sleep, sure you’ve heard it going off, reaching for it frantically, only to turn on the screen and see nothing.
No missed calls, no new texts.
You dream about him, too. In some of them, you’re still fighting, yelling at the top of your lungs in a way you never had in real life. In some, he isn’t even present - you just know he’s missing. In some, you’re trying to get to him, but never can - stopped by nonsense laws of dream physics.
In one of them, you tell him you love him, and he staggers backwards, breaths starting to rasp the way they had when you’d talked him through a panic attack, like he was just as scared of the admission as you had been.
Maybe he had been just as scared about it, back when it had mattered. Maybe he was just better at handling it than you are.
You never see his whole face in your dreams - only glimpses, fragments. You don’t want to examine if that means anything.
You fucking hate your brain.
You’re starting to hate your phone, too.
—
You lose November to grey - the whole month, a wash. You miss three days of work, unable to do anything - unable to cook, unable to get dressed. You feed the cat because you have to, and it’s the only reason you leave your bed except to pee.
When the grey days break as December dawns, you follow an impulse and schedule an appointment with your primary physician through their app. As you click the button to confirm the appointment, you burst into tears, loud and embarrassing. You cry with abandon, pulling your hoodie up to cover your face, to muffle the noise that you can’t stop.
You should have gone to a doctor years ago, and you know it. It feels like a big deal. It feels like a potential mistake - like opening a can of worms and now you have to deal with them. It feels like admitting something is wrong when you’ve worked so hard to look like nothing is. It feels like a farce, like nothing that bad is wrong with you, and you’re wasting everyone’s time.
But you keep the appointment anyway. You make yourself small in the chair on the other side of your doctor’s little table, and you admit, eyes on your hands, “I want to talk about my mental health. I think I’ve been dealing with depressive episodes. For… a long time, now.”
It’s so damn scary. As scary as loving and losing someone - like, yes, Vernon - had seemed. And you’re somehow surviving both.
Something to think about.
You buy yourself good job you did the scary thing ice cream on the way home. You go inside, put it away, and then scoop Nana off the couch, burying your face in his belly and cooing, “How is my favorite boy today?” He tolerates your nonsense with aplomb, as always.
Chan has never forgiven you for naming a cat “Banana Bread”, and you think that’s why Nana has never warmed up to him.
Nana loved Vernon, but you don’t want to think about that.
You kind of want to text him. You think he’d be proud of you for what you did today. You think he’d tell you good job.
(Chan would tell you good job, too, and will, when you call him later. But it doesn’t feel the same.)
You wonder if he’d answer if you told him. You wonder if he wouldn’t answer, but be proud of you anyway.
You fill the prescription, you leave your contact info with a therapist as advised by your primary physician. You don’t text Vernon.
You take your pride and your sadness, your fear and your hope and you channel them into greens and yellows. As late autumn grips the leafless trees outside, you paint something that looks like spring.
Now - Winter
Winter howls through your life like you personally pissed it off. You and Nana huddle under thick blankets with your tablet night after night.
Sometimes you close your eyes and remember Vernon’s hands slipping underneath his own hoodie on your skin; it helps you feel warmer.
Sometimes you think about the way he’d said the word wasted about the time he’d spent with you; it makes you feel cold all over again.
You click through all the tabs you’ve had open for days - different universities with decent visual arts programs, all advertising admission for the spring semester.
None of them are big name schools, not like the one you’d turned down all those years ago. But they aren’t nothing.
You’d brought it up to your therapist last week and she’d encouraged the idea - accepting that you can’t unstitch the mistakes in your tapestry, but you can control what new patterns emerge.
This was the plan: start classes. Open social media accounts to showcase your work. Network through school, look for job opportunities at galleries or for collectors. Open commissions, maybe.
On your best days, this seems like a list of goals to shoot for. On your worst days, this seems like a list of things you’ve already failed at before you’ve even started.
You text options to Chan, ask him, which school colors can you see me in?
Your best friend sends back, all of them. any of them. look at you go!!
You sit in your living room and watch snow fall lazily outside the window. You daydream about what classes might be like, if you get in. You take pictures of the snow in the park, then try to paint something similar once you’re home again.
You wonder if Vernon’s doing okay. You worry that he’s going through his hard days alone. You worry that maybe he’s not - maybe he found someone who helps him better than you did, maybe he’s so happy with them that he doesn’t have hard days at all.
(You know life doesn’t work like that.)
You paint Nana, just for shits, and post it on instagram. It gets the most engagement you’ve had so far. Someone messages you asking if you do commissions for pet portraits. You frown, looking at the message.
Maybe I do, you think.
Your apartment is cold. You burrow under blankets, rub your legs together like a cricket to warm them up, and think maybe after I’m a cicada, I could be a cricket next.
There’s no one to share the joke with who’d get it. Just another of the thousand ways you feel Vernon’s absence in your life. You hadn’t realized how much space he took up until he was gone.
—
Everywhere Vernon looks, all he sees are circles. The hands on his kitchen clock circle each other, align, move on again. They tell him he has two minutes to get out the door before he’s late.
He checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror, straightens his tie, smooths back his hair, then grabs his crossbody bag and heads for the bus.
The hands of the clock in his office mark his passage through his schedule: one circle until his 10:00 meeting will end. Two more after that and he can take a lunch break. A circle and a half until his one-on-one with his boss, to discuss his first few months here.
On his lunch break, Vernon rides with two of the guys he works with to some nature trails nearby, as they usually do. They swap suits for joggers and zip-ups, pop in airpods, and head out. Vernon didn’t run before this job - didn’t exercise much at all, really. He’d gone along with the guys the first time there had been an unseasonably warm day, just to be out, and he’d found it felt good to get fresh air and some endorphins before returning to his desk.
It’s cold today, the air brittle as he inhales, but the rest of his body feels warm as he works to keep up with the other guys. It’s not as hard as it used to be, keeping up.
The trail is a circle, too, passing a small, man-made lake before looping around back to the changing facilities. On his wrist, a fitness app closes circles to quantify his steps, his speed, his progress.
At home again, he runs his thumb around the edge of the circular joystick as he waits for Seungkwan and Wonwoo to sign in and join him for a round or two before he figures out dinner.
“Some of us were going to the bar tonight, you in?”
“Shouldn’t,” Vernon says. “But maybe this weekend?” Unfortunately, his new nine-to-five forces him to make decisions like this - better decisions. He kind of likes his job. He kind of doesn’t want to feel like shit in the morning.
His mind, a circle - always coming around back to you when it gets too quiet.
He opens his messages.
how have you been? … are you doing okay? … hey, i’m - … I think I’m sorry … what if we did it differently …
Of course he doesn’t send any of them. Instead, he searches for your instagram. You’d never followed each other in the first place, and he considers it a win that you didn’t block him when it was over. But you haven't posted anything that he can see in the last eight months.
Except - one post. It looks like your cat.
He clicks it and realizes that it’s not a photograph, but a painting, and the caption links to another account. He clicks that, too, and finds himself on a page that seems dedicated to posting paintings only.
Yours, apparently. He scrolls through slowly, rolling to his stomach so he can look more closely. He never knew you painted, let alone that you were good - great, even, to his untrained and certainly unbiased eyes.
Part of the problem, his mind chimes in.
Somehow, despite understanding each other better than anyone else in your lives, at the end of the day you hadn’t known each other at all.
Now - Spring
happy hour after lecture???
plsss can we
bestie YES!!!
The sender of the original invite - a girl close to your age called Juri - eyes you from two rows up, expectantly. Normally, you’d go straight home after class. But you’d been talking to your therapist about almost this exact situation - the way you closed people out, squandered friendships to the point that only Chan managed to hang onto you for more than a year. (Vernon had made it about two years, a sick voice in your head says, and then answers itself with, but you weren’t friends, anyway.)
So, you send the group chat, sure!
(You’d also been talking to your therapist about that last fight with Vernon. I can’t get that conversation out of my head, you told her.
I’ve been caring about you way more than I should, he’d said.
You’d been talking to her about how your brain had skipped like a flat stone right over that detail and had sunk deep on I don’t want to do this anymore.
“What did you think he meant?” she’d asked you, watching you carefully. “When he said do this, what did you think this was?”
Me, you’d whispered. Anything with me - hook up, sleep, spend time together, talk, anything.
She’d helped you see the context of the fight - that maybe by “I don’t want to do this” he’d meant “be with you but not with you”.
“Sounds fake, but okay,” you’d joked. She hadn’t laughed. Negative ten points at Therapy.
You were still working on trying to believe it.
You still weren’t sure if it fucking mattered what he meant, because instead of asking him, “what do you want, then?” you’d gone defensive, had greedily grabbed at the excuse to push him away, hard and careless. He wouldn’t want you back now, even if that’s what he’d wanted at the time. You were sure of it.)
Happy that you’ve agreed to go out, Juri flashes you a grin and then turns around in her seat to watch the board again.
The bar Juri chooses is cute, not crowded or noisy yet this early in the evening. You sip at a beer and talk with the girls about upcoming projects, about the professor you all can’t stand, about the term paper you all feel you shouldn’t have to do.
It’s nice, and honestly when you glance at the time and decide you’d better get home to feed Nana, you regret that you have to. Still, you make your way to the bar to pay for your portion.
You don’t even notice the lean, handsome man who sidles up next to you while you wait for your check until he speaks.
“What’s your drink?”
You look over at him, surprised. “Oh,” you say, which isn’t really an answer. “I’m leaving, actually.”
He gives an exaggerated frown. “It’s so early!”
You shrug. “Sorry. Places to be.”
He’s cute, you consider, as you pay your bill and head for the door. Two years ago, you probably would have picked up what he was putting down.
At home, you feed Nana, then collapse on the couch, pulling a throw blanket all the way over your head. Your stomach churns with discomfort.
You open your phone, find Vernon in your contacts.
You sit on his contact page, thumbs hovering over his number, for so long that your screen goes black twice while you stay locked in indecision.
Don’t call him don’t call him don’t call him.
But you’re lonely, and you miss him, and going out made you think of him, and you wonder what would happen if you did it, if you called. Would he even answer?
Eventually, you let reason win this time, and get up from the couch, the blanket falling from you like you’d shed a skin.
In your spare room, you eye the last painting you’d finished - mostly black but with a fractured, fragmented view of a tabletop littered with empty glasses and half-finished drinks, all the liquids a toxic, piercing neon pink. You hadn’t posted that one; it felt too much like an admission.
You stare down the empty canvas, tapping your mouth with the wooden end of a brush, deciding how to begin. You close your eyes and see the beast that’s followed you these last few years - even before Vernon. The embodiment of your shame, your regrets, your failures. It’s never left your side for long.
When you finally begin to paint it, you start with the claws.
—
you up for a 1v1?
arent you on a date???
obviously not.
you didn’t go? bro.
i went. it was just. idk.
it was just what?
idk dude.
you didn’t like her?
she was fine?? she was funny, and hot, and it was fine
so why are you home alone at 8:30 asking me to come online
Vernon rubs at his face in irritation. He doesn’t know what to say, how to explain to Seungkwan why the date had felt flat.
What could he say? It was fine. It just wasn’t… enough.
He could still remember how he’d felt the first night he met you. He wanted to feel that.
idk, he told Seungkwan. lack of chemistry, ig.
Now - Summer
You think you’ve learned a lot over the past few months - between starting classes again and beginning therapy, you’re just bursting with new knowledge.
Something you’re working on is appreciating the shadows.
In class, you work on shading, on adding darks even when you think an area should all be light. Sometimes, somehow, shadows are exactly what you need to make it right on the canvas.
You think about this concept for your whole drive home from therapy - how the shadows under trees change the way you see them, how the darks affect the lights, how the shadows in your own life are natural and maybe, in the end, not so catastrophic.
At home, you duck your head into the shadows under your bed and drag Nana out by the middle.
“Come be social,” you scold him, plopping him on the couch.
After dinner, you go back to work on what you were painting. You’d been stuck for a few days, not happy with any change you made, but today you have an idea.
You create a palette of black, grey, navy, and deep purple. For two hours, you work meticulously, adding the midnights, the bruises, the shadows. They belong here, too.
—
Chan tells you he’s proud of you, the next time he’s over, and it makes you cry even though you’re only one your second sip of wine.
“Stop it,” you scold, avoiding his gaze, burning up under the attention.
“I mean it,” he says seriously. “I’m so happy that you’re painting again, I could throw up. And going back to school? And therapy? Damn. The glow-up.”
“Ew,” you frown at him, because this feels safer than acknowledging that you have been working hard on yourself, on your life. “What year is it, 2017?”
He gives you a look to make sure you know that he sees through your bullshit.
“It’s not all perfect,” you admit quietly. You feel like it should - like you’ve done the work, and now you should get the happy ending. But it hasn’t worked that way. You’re still working at a job that feels like a waste of time, painting on the side. You’re accumulating some debt for the classes you’re taking. The grey days still come and go, though admittedly their grip is less intense.
And you still think of Vernon, near daily.
Chan shrugs. “That’s normal. Perfect isn’t real. It’s unattainable. If your therapist hasn’t told you that, then you’re wasting your money.”
You laugh. She had told you that. Another thing that was easier to say than to put into practice.
You recork the bottle after a second glass, put it in your fridge for another day. Returning to your spot by Chan’s side, you tell him, “I keep thinking about him.”
Chan cocks his head, probably unsure if you’re talking about who he thinks you are.
“The guy I was hooking up with.”
“Ah.” He inclines his head knowingly.
You recount what he already knows - that you’d been whatever you were for about two years, that it had ended. That it was your fault.
“I think,” you say, taking a deep breath mid-sentence to steel yourself for the truth, “I think I could have loved him. I don’t know… maybe I did.”
“Either you did or you didn’t,” Chan points out, which is fair.
“It’s just…” you say, thinking about it. “We kept our boundaries so tight. We didn’t talk during the day, didn’t meet each others’ friends or families… barely got to know anything about each other. But it was like… even so, I think we just understood each other. It was like a lot of it just went without saying.”
Chan considers this, face serious. “Sounds like the potential was there, at least. If nothing else.”
“Yeah,” you said sadly, tracing the bottom of your wine glass with your finger. “Potential.”
Wasted potential. You’d heard that plenty before, just not usually about your love life.
Chan reaches out and shakes your knee playfully. “It’ll happen again,” he promises.
You don’t know what would be worse - if it never did, or it did, but it wasn’t Vernon. You’d never believed in there only being one right person for you - like soulmates or shit like that. But looking back at your time together, you’re not sure anyone will ever have a hold over you the way Vernon did. The grip he had on your life was unshakable.
Before he leaves for the night, Chan hesitates by the door.
“Hey,” he says, “this weekend? A bunch of the guys are driving down to the beach for the day. Wanna join?”
Something else you would have said no to, before. You’re trying to say yes more, plus you can’t deny that the sea air and sunshine sound like heaven.
“Sure,” you say, shifting to block Nana from slipping out the front door as Chan opens it. “Text me the details.”
Later, you ask what you should have asked first. who all is coming?
Chan sends back the list - six of his friends, ending with, seungcheol-hyung and his friend hansol. i think you’ve met him once or twice at the bars? he’s a good guy.
Something in you knew this was going to be the answer. You counted your breaths, tried to talk yourself down from immediately bailing on the plan.
Sleep on it, you told yourself. See how you feel in a few days.
You followed your own directions, but for days your mind spun around the question, buzzing and frantic.
Are you ready to see Vernon? To be around him, and act normal? Is it a good idea? Will you fight? Will you fall back into old habits? Will he bring out the worst in you?
Actually, you consider, that isn’t fair. Vernon never brought out your bad habits - he just coexisted peacefully with them, never tried to kick them out.
You’re scared that seeing him will undo the work of getting over him. But that isn’t true, either - because you don’t think you moved on from him at all.
In the end, you do slip into old habits - you let yourself make a potentially bad decision. You decide to go.
A twisted, quiet part of you is kind of excited.
The louder part is scared to death.
—
The day is perfect - blue sky, barely any clouds, hot and bright. Chan drives you and two of his friends; a second car with the others is somewhere en route, will meet your group once you’re there.
Chan’s car arrives first, and you help the guys unpack the trunk. Loaded down with beach bags, chairs, and coolers, you make your way unsteadily through the sand, pausing at one point to take off your flip-flops, tired of how they slow you down in the dry, loose sand.
You pick a spot and lay the towels out, unfold the chairs, get the umbrella anchored down in the sand so it doesn’t fly away.
The whole time, you can’t stop watching the parking lot, waiting for the other group to arrive - waiting for the moment of truth. What will happen when Vernon sees you?
Once everything is set up, you lay out, trying to enjoy what is admittedly beautiful weather. It’s so bright that when you lay on your back, you want to throw an arm over your eyes to block out the light, to really relax.
It feels like forever when you hear a distant shout and sit up, blinking against the glare of the sun, returning your sunglasses to your face as you get your bearings. A group of Chan’s friends approaches, one of them - Mingyu, you think - shouting hello and waving like a fool.
You stand to greet them, waving hi when they get close enough. You bite your lip nervously and glance at Vernon. He’s near the back of the group - their car had brought four people, just like yours - and his face is absolutely unreadable as he looks at you. It reminds you of the beginning, when you noticed how hard he works to keep his expression blank.
He’d stopped doing that with you, near the end. You’d almost forgotten.
Meeting and holding his gaze, you give him a solemn nod. I can be normal if you can, you try to promise, silently.
The moment is tense; you aren’t sure how he’ll react. Then, he gives you his own tiny nod back.
Relief melts through you like butter. Seeing him aches, but it isn’t unmanageable. You can do this - you’ll both be okay. You’ll both get through the day.
You help set up a second umbrella while a few of the guys move a few yards away to set up a volleyball net.
For a few hours they play volleyball. You sit on your towel with airpods in and watch, trying not to notice Vernon, trying to keep that part of your brain locked tight in its little box. But the sunlight streams down, not half as blinding as his smile as he jokes and laughs with Chan and Seungcheol, nowhere near as glittering as his laugh when he doubles over, elbows on his knees.
The sun is almost directly overhead when you get warm enough to brave the ocean.
“I’m gonna swim for a few,” you announce, standing and brushing some loose sand from your thighs.
Chan collapses on his towel, next to yours, pushing his hair back and heaving a deep breath, exhausted from volleyball.
“Maybe in a few,” he wheezes. “I need a minute.”
“I’ll go,” Soonyoung says, tossing his sunglasses onto his towel so he doesn’t lose them in the ocean.
You head down to where the waves are breaking onto the wet sand, foamy water dancing up to your ankles before retreating into the deep sea again. It’s cold, but under the midday sun the cold is welcome. You wade until you hit the awkward point where it’s hard to stand without being constantly battered by breaking waves, and then you duck underneath the surface and swim past the breaking point.
Treading water, you turn to see if Soonyoung made it out with you. He’s still back a bit, jumping each time a wave comes through. Beside him, Mingyu splutters, having taken a wave to his face. A few feet back, the water only at their knees, Vernon and Chan laugh maniacally.
You missed those goose honks.
The guys take their time catching up to you until all five of you are treading.
“Do you think there are jellyfish?” Soonyoung asks, peering into the water behind you.
“Probably,” Vernon deadpans, and you laugh, then immediately wonder if you shouldn’t. Luckily, he grins at you appreciatively as, behind him, Chan points out that there could be sharks, too.
“I’ll probably go back in soon,” Soonyoung says, trying to sound cavalier, but his unease shines through.
“We’re fine,” you promise. “You don’t have to out-swim the shark. You just have to out-swim Chan.”
Chan curses and splashes water at you as the others laugh.
You talk and float for a little longer until you consider the goosebumps on your limbs, the growl in your stomach.
“Anyone interested in lunch?” you ask.
Mingyu raises his arm and squints at his watch. “It is one,” he says. “I could eat. What did you guys bring?”
Chan starts rattling off what’s in your coolers as you start to make your way back to shore. You reach the point where your feet touch the sand, only to get slammed in the back by an incoming wave. You stumble a little, and someone holds your elbow steady, helping you stagger through it without completely tripping.
You give Vernon a grateful smile as he retracts his hand, but your stomach is swooping and your arm is burning where he’d held you.
Rejoining the others, you plop down on your towel, suddenly exhausted. The ocean water drying on your skin under the sun makes you shiver as you dig through the cooler. You pass out drinks to the guys closest to you, toss a bag of chips at Seungkwan when he asks for them, then settle back on your own towel to eat.
After, full and happy, you flop backwards and put airpods back in. Seungkwan and Soonyoung head back to the volleyball net. Mingyu and Chan seem content to bake in the sun, like you, and beyond them the others have circled up and are playing a card game, open cans of beer in the sand beside them.
You feel truly at peace, and you take a moment to ask the universe - can I hold onto this? Can I remember, when things go grey, that these moments exist?
Once you’re warm again, you pull your shorts back on and whack Chan on the arm. He startles awake, pushing his sunglasses up to glare at you.
“I’m going to walk up the beach for a little,” you tell him, pointing, just so somewhere will know where you are. He nods, his head sinking back down to his towel, eyes closing again.
You walk where the waves flood over your feet every few minutes, never getting higher than your ankles. You search for shells as you go, carrying one or two, but mostly stopping to take pictures of them and leaving them where they are, wanting to paint them later.
There are four shells in your hand when you hear someone call your name. You turn, surprised, and your stomach swoops again; Vernon approaches, hat twisted backwards and sunglasses perched over the top of it, one hand reaching out to show you a shell he’d found.
You hold still, you let him come to you. When he’s close enough, you hold open your hand and let him drop the shell there. It’s a mostly-white spiral top.
“Thanks,” you say, looking away from the shell to meet Vernon’s eyes.
He looks down at the other four in your hands. “You gonna paint them?”
You feel yourself physically take a step back in shock. “What?”
Embarrassment darkens his face just slightly. “I’ve been following your art page,” he admits, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets. “I didn’t know.” Then, “I feel bad that I didn’t know. You’re really good.”
You shake your head. “I wasn’t painting when we… I used to. I stopped for a long time. Just started again, after…” You trail off. After you left me. After I pushed you away.
He nods, licks his lips. “Does it help?” he asks, and you know exactly what he’s asking - does it make the rocks weigh less, does it make the grey lighter?
“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “In general. It’s been… kind of cathartic.”
You both stand there, the shells on your palms between you, a decision teetering between you.
You should be the one to mend it, you think, since you were the one who’d ruined it before.
“Do you want to walk with me?” you ask, a little tentatively. “You don’t have to - I’m fine on my own -”
“I’d like to,” he says, voice quiet, and something about it makes you want to well up - that he’s willing to give you his time, that he doesn’t hate you as much as you deserve.
You walk quietly together as the sun starts to sink a little, casting everything a bit orange.
“What’s new with you?” you ask, finally.
And he tells you - new job that he actually likes despite how stuffy the nine-to-five thing sounds in theory, new mile time on his daily run, new friends through work.
“And you?”
You fill him in, telling him about taking classes part-time around your job, the commissions that aren’t enough to sustain you but aren’t nothing - you even shyly admit that you’ve been seeing a therapist.
It was the most either of you had ever talked about your real lives, you thought. It struck you how normal it felt, like it wasn’t something new or novel.
“Sounds like things are coming together for you,” he says.
“You, too,” you return.
Everything between you sits heavy, weighing the moment down, pulling towards the ocean’s depths like an anchor.
Then, at the same time, you break.
“It’s good to see you again.”
“Vernon, I’m really sorry.”
He stops walking, turns to face you, aglow as the golden hour inches closer. The sun is warm on your skin, the sand is warm beneath your feet, and you are dying to make it right with him.
“It’s good to see you, too,” you whisper. You’re scared of this moment - scared it will burst, like a bubble, like waking up from a dream that you can’t get back.
“Don’t be sorry,” he counters. “We both screwed up.”
You shake your head, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “No,” you say emphatically. “You had every right to be mad. You were right that you were wasting time.”
He glances down, mouth pulling into a frown. “I’m sorry I said that to you. It wasn’t a waste.”
“Maybe not entirely,” you allow. “But you were right. I was never going to give you what you wanted - not back then, not with… how I was. That last fight we had… it would have been so easy for me to just let you in, and everything would have been fine. And I just… couldn’t.”
He listens seriously, watching your face carefully. You look at your feet in the sand, feeling the beginning trickles of shame down your spine. But you remember that the beast can’t get you - you’d locked him on a canvas. You don’t succumb to him in these moments anymore - you take a breath and remember that you’ve grown since then.
“And -” you swallow, take a breath, “- and I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than that.”
He nods, slowly, his eyes suddenly on the ocean. You watch his throat work, and your stomach clenches in regret. Then, he says, “I should have been clearer with you - way sooner than I was.”
“I’m not sure it would have changed anything,” you admit sadly.
He nods again, agreeing. “Still,” he says.
Still.
“I really like your paintings,” he says, and then laughs at himself before you can respond. “Sorry, that sounded so lame. I don’t know the art terms or anything. I just… like them.”
You smile despite how serious the conversation had felt only seconds ago. “Thanks,” you say shyly.
“What’s the best thing you’ve learned in your classes?” he asks, stepping a little closer.
You don’t even have to think about it. “Shadows,” you say simply, looking up at him. “Even the brightest painting is nothing without the shadows.”
His smile grows slowly, and you know he gets it. Of course he does. He’s been in the trenches right alongside you.
“I thought about you a lot,” he admits, and you realize how close you’re standing. Had you been standing this close the whole time?
“I did, too,” you murmur, heart hammering.
His fingers brush up your sun-warmed arm, and you shiver despite the heat.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice low, a little unsure.
He’d never asked before.
You nod, unable to speak, lifting up to meet him halfway. He kisses you like he never had before - featherlight, gentle, like you’re the most fragile thing.
Neither of you say anything after, but as you start walking back towards the guys, you slip your hand into his, and he gives it a squeeze.
You’re still hand in hand when you reach the towels, and you watch Chan clock it out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t call you out, and you promise yourself that you’ll give him the conversation you owe him - later. When you’re alone.
You stay a few more hours; the guys play a little more volleyball, you sit on the towels and fill pages in your sketchbook. You draw Vernon - all angles, so sharp, so beautiful.
When the sun sinks low enough, the guys start packing things up, and you help haul everything back towards the cars.
As you slam the trunk of Chan’s car shut, you turn to find Vernon waiting.
“What about now?” he asks.
“What?”
“You said not back then,” he explains. “You said back then you couldn’t give me what I wanted. What about now?”
The question lands like a mine. “I don’t know,” you say, as honest as you can be. “Vernon, I don’t know. I’m scared - I’m scared I’ll hurt you again, mess it up again. I don’t know what I can promise you.”
He considers this. “Okay,” he says finally, in that easy way of his. “What if I don’t want a promise? What if I just want to know… what’re you doing next Saturday?”
You and him, you’d existed only at night. You’d never done this before - considered dating, considered giving him more than just the hours between midnight and three am. You’d never considered letting him be him and not just one of your many vices, one of your distractions, one of the things you used to hide from how broken you felt. But here, now, with the summer sun beating down on your shoulders, you take in his whole, unfragmented face and see how open it is, how willing he is to meet you where you are.
You’ve been missing out on so much, you think. It’s about time to stand in the light - with him. With him, you could try.
“Nothing,” you say, smiling up at him. “You got a suggestion?”
“Yeah,” he says, sending you a wink as he starts to back away, the car keys jingling in his hand. “I know a place.”
<- Prev
thank you so much for reading my veyr first svt fic!! i hope to write many more in the future :)
#kvanity#svthub#svt fanfic#svt fic#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen fanfic#vernon fanfic#vernon fic#vernon x reader#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#vernon chwe x reader#hansol x reader#hansol x you#chwe hansol x reader#vernon smut#hansol smut#vernon chwe smut#chwe hansol smut#vernon angst#vernon fluff#hansol fluff#chwe hansol fluff#fuckbuddies au#fic: vice;grip
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An Incomplete History of Zhang Luyi & Chen Minghao's Friendship
Do you like Pangxie's chemistry in Tibetan Sea Flower? Do you feel that they are really old friends? Besides the fact that Zhang Luyi and Chen Minghao are very good actors, they are indeed old friends, and the earliest record that I can find of them working together dates back to 2006. However, CMH was in the 1996 class of acting at the The Central Academy of Drama, while ZLY was in the 1999 class of directing at the same university, so I figured they definitely got to know each other before 2006. So more or less, on Chinese social media, people usually assume that they've been friends for almost 20 years.
Before I dig into the history, I want to mention that some Pangxie scenes are actually improvised by ZLY and CMH on set. CHM has played Pangzi several times, and is insanely good at it, so he knows about Pangzi and the character dynamics inside out. While ZLY is new to the DMBJ universe, he did read all the DMBJ novels before the filming of Tibetan Sea Flower, so he has very insightful understanding of the characters and relationship dynamics as well.
For example, according to an interview of the director, this iconic & funny "拜年/new year's greeting" scene in episode 6 was improvised, and the director just decided to keep it in the final cut. In a BTS footage, Pangxie putting peanuts on Feng's very wrinkled test paper in episode 9 was also shown to be something that ZLY and CMH came up with during rehearsing.
The History
In the first paragraph, I mentioned that they went to the same undergraduate university. Another thing that connects them even more is that they went to the same graduate school - Peking University's School of Arts, and both have the master's degree in arts. ZLY fans sometimes just endearingly call CMH “师哥/shige" because of all of this.
In 2006, ZLY and CMH were in the stage play 琥珀/Amber. Here are some rare photos of 26-year old ZLY and 31 year old CMH LOL:
Both of them continued to do a lot of theatre works, some tv/film roles, and also attended grad school in the coming years. ZLY got his breakthrough leading role in 2014, and started to lead in shows/films.
In 2016, ZLY and South Korean actor Jang Hyuk starred in the drama 新海/New Sea, and CMH was seen sharing the following scene with ZLY. Unfortunately, due to China's ban on South Korean entertainment content in the same year, this drama will probably never see the light of day.
Then, I think some of you already know this, in late 2016, CMH directed the stage play Big D, and ZLY was his lead actor in this play. According to different news articles, the tickets of this play were sold out in either 5, 7, or 8 minutes (LOL no idea why there were such discrepancies, but they were sold out within 10 minutes for sure).
In 2018, they appeared in The Sound which is a very good variety show about dubbing. Celebrities were asked to dub domestic and international shows/films (sometimes in both Chinese and English) to show case their voice acting skills and language skills. What's really funny is that ZLY is one of the typical introverts who can be a clown when he's surrounded by people he's familiar with, but once you put him in an unfamiliar environment, he gets nervous and shy. So after he and CMH entered the room together, he just naturally and subconsciously stood right beside CMH, the one he was most comfortable with, even though he was supposed to team up with another actress (who was off screen). He got really confused for a minute when all the other guests and hosts were questioning why he didn't stand beside his teammate LOL.
Both ZLY and CMH are really very low key actors in c-ent, so you don't see them in public events a lot. The last time that they were spotted chatting in public was during the premiere of the movie Under the Light last September.
Anyways, thanks for reading! I hope this can bring some insight into their friendship. You can tell they are just so comfortable with each other, and shooting Tibetan Sea Flower seemed to be such a fun experience for them. I hope they get to work together again soon in the future!
Edit: if you noticed my tags and saw the reply of someone requesting to know why ZLY was picked as Wu Xie: I made a long post here.
#lol i dont like making long txt posts bc it takes even longer time than a long gifset 😅🙃#if anyone's curious why zly is picked for wu xie or his tsf interview please let me know#tibetan sea flower#adventure behind the bronze door#dmbj#cdrama#chinese drama#daomu biji#藏海花#the lost tomb#zhang luyi#edward zhang#wu xie#chen minghao#wang pangzi#pangxie#cactor#kunsposts
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𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 | 이동혁
Every relationship comes with a story. This is ours.
𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟎𝟓 ; in which you & Haechan tell your respective sides of your love story.
# 𝑫𝑼𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 :: 17 minutes (~3.3k words)
# 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 :: dark thoughts, insecurities
『 The video opens with a shot of Haechan walking into the studio and holding the door open for Y/N. As she walks into the studio, Haechan takes her hand and leads her to the set. The set is white, with two white chairs seated across from each other, a white table, a set of white earbuds, and a set of white noise-cancelling headphones. Haechan takes a seat in the chair to the right, while Y/N sits in the chair across from him. 』
“Can you introduce yourselves?”
Y/N: “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m 23 years old, and I'm a grad student studying social work.”
Haechan: “I’m Haechan, also 23 years old, and I make music.”
“How long have you been together?”
Y/N: “For almost 8 years now.”
Haechan: “And we’ve been engaged for 1.” (smiles)
“How did the two of you meet?”
Y/N: “We met our first year of high school, right?”
Haechan: (nods) “In the storage room on the 3rd floor.” (smiles) “Y/N was the class president, and I was the crazy delinquent that always caused her trouble.”
Y/N: (chuckles lightly, then shakes her head) “Stop telling everyone you were a delinquent. Someone’s gonna make up a weird rumor or something. The most you did was show up late to class.”
『 Haechan shrugs. 』
“What was your first impression of each other?”
『 The video cuts to Haechan putting in the earbuds, then sliding the noise-cancelling headphones on over his ears. 』
《 HER SIDE 》
Y/N: “My first impression of Donghyuck...was that he broke a lot of rules.” (chuckles) “Back then, our high school had a really strict dress code; we had to wear our uniforms a certain way, and we weren’t allowed to wear makeup or dye our hair or get any piercings or use any accessories...but he never wore his uniform properly. He got his ears pierced, and he was always dyeing his hair different colors. Red, brown, blonde, silver...doing all of that left a bad impression on the teachers, but he didn’t care, and that was something I really didn’t understand. I also didn’t understand why he showed up late to class every day, or why he disappeared during lunch, or why he never stayed after to help with clean up duty. There were a lot of things that I didn’t know about him.” (pauses) “But I can confidently say that I know him the best, now.” (smiles) “The reality is that Donghyuck is the kindest, funniest, most hardworking and considerate person that I know. I wish I knew that about him sooner.”
『 The video cuts to Y/N putting in the earbuds, then sliding the noise-cancelling headphones on over her ears. 』
《 HIS SIDE 》
Haechan: “Y/N was...like an earthquake. Literally.” (smiles, softly) “Other than the fact that she was our class president, I didn’t know anything about her. We never talked in class, which, like, why would she talk to someone like me in the first place, you know? Like, we're a walking juxtaposition. But anyways, the first time I ever met Y/N was in the storage room on the 3rd floor of our main school building. It wasn’t being used anymore, so it ended up becoming my napping place during our lunch break. I didn’t think anyone else knew about it...so I almost screamed when I woke up to Y/N shaking my shoulders.” (chuckles) “I thought I was in serious trouble, but she didn’t seem fazed at all when I woke up. She just...she said that class had started...and then walked out. Nothing else.” (laughs) “She changed my world after that. Completely.”
《 BOTH SIDES 》
Haechan: “What’d you think of me?”
Y/N: “You were an enigma.”
Haechan: (smiles) “How so?”
Y/N: (shrugs) “You just...went out of your way to break the rules, even though you knew it left a bad impression on everyone. I didn’t get why you did those things. Well, I do know, but back then, I didn’t.”
Haechan: “Did it leave a bad impression on you, too?”
Y/N: “No, the opposite, to be honest. I thought you were fascinating.” (smiles) “What did you think about me?”
Haechan: “I thought you were an angel.” (chuckles)
Y/N: “You did? But you keep telling everyone that you thought you were in an earthquake when we first met.”
Haechan: (laughs) “Because it’s true! You don’t know how scared I was when you woke me up!”
Y/N: “Then why’d you think I was an angel?”
Haechan: “Because you’re that beautiful.”
『 The entire studio falls silent. Y/N stares at Haechan, then turns to the PD. 』
Y/N: “Next question, please.”
『 Haechan laughs. 』
“How did you become friends?”
《 HER SIDE 》
Y/N: “On that particular day, when we met for the first time, our teacher had asked me to look for something in one of the unused storage rooms, but the only thing I’d found was Donghyuck taking a nap in the corner. I didn’t think much of it; I just thought that he was tired. I got what I needed and headed back to class, but even after class had started, he still wasn’t back. I thought that he might’ve been asleep, so I went back to wake him up then returned to class.”
Y/N: “I guess he must’ve been really alarmed when I woke him up because he came up to me after class that day, which I thought was weird since he usually didn’t stay around after classes finished. He asked me to keep it a secret ㅡ the fact that he took naps during our lunch break. I didn’t really know why it was a big deal, but I knew it was probably an important secret to keep, so I didn’t tell anyone about it. I just continued waking him up after our lunch break was over.”
Y/N: “One day, when I went back to wake him up, he was already awake. I was going to go back to class, but we ended up talking for a little bit, instead. It wasn’t a real conversation or anything ㅡ it was more like small talk ㅡ but then that became a regular thing. Instead of coming to wake him up, I’d meet him in the storage room, and we’d eat lunch together. Sometimes he’d take a nap afterwards, but I’d just study and then wake him up whenever class was about to start.” (smiles) “It became our little rendezvous.”
《 HIS SIDE 》
Haechan: “I...don’t really know. It just kind of...happened. Ever since she found me in the storage room that day, she’d come by right before our break ended to wake me up. We wouldn’t even really say anything to each other, she’d just come in, shake me awake, tell me that class was starting, then leave. Like, every day.” (laughs) “I guess my body got used to it, because I’d start waking up before she’d even stop by. One time, I was already wide awake by the time she came back, so we just...talked a little bit. I asked her how she was, she said she was good, and that was pretty much it.” (smiles) “It became a regular thing. She started coming earlier and earlier, and eventually we’d just spend the entire lunch break together.”
Haechan: “She was completely different than how I’d imagined her to be. I expected her to be really boring and straight-laced, since she was our class president, but she wasn’t. At all. She asked me so many questions, almost in a childish way. She asked if my piercings hurt and what color I was going to dye my hair next and why I wore such uncomfortable-looking shoes.” (chuckles) “It was...nice. She didn’t treat me like some sort of problem child, and she didn’t judge me, even though I was so different from her. She listened to me and respected my decisions and even brought an extra lunch for me, since I didn’t have one to bring with me. She was the first person in our entire high school to treat me like a regular human being.”
《 BOTH SIDES 》
Haechan: “What made you keep coming back to the storage room after that day?”
Y/N: (shrugs) “You always showed up late to class after our lunch break, and I kind of figured that it was because you were oversleeping, so I felt like I needed to go back and wake you up.”
Haechan: (claps) “Wow, as expected of our class president. What an admirable sense of responsibility.”
Y/N: (smiles) “Of course I took that responsibility seriously. It gave me a reason to see you.”
Haechan: (gasps, exaggeratedly) “You had a crush on me? Oh my god! You had a crush on me!”
Y/N: “We’re literally engaged, Hyuck.”
Haechan: “Still, though! How embarrassiㅡ”
Y/N: “Next question, please.”
『 Laughter can be heard around the studio. 』
“When did you know that you’d fallen for your partner?”
《 HER SIDE 》
Y/N: “I didn’t realize my feelings for him until after he stopped talking to me altogether. He didn’t look at me when I greeted him that morning, and he didn’t show up to the storage room, either. It was like I didn’t exist in his world anymore. He just...stopped acknowledging me.” (pauses) “You know, I’m socially aware enough to know not to talk to someone if they stop talking to me first, but there was just something about the whole situation that felt...off. Maybe it was how heartbroken I felt, or maybe it was how heartbroken he looked whenever he ignored me. Either way...I knew that I couldn’t just leave things as they were. I think that’s when I really realized that I’d fallen for him. I wouldn’t have felt so compelled to run after him if I hadn’t fallen for him, right?”
Y/N: “As the class president, I had the privilege of reading the school announcements in front of the entire class in the mornings. So I ㅡ (chuckles) ㅡ I basically brought the class together just to say, ‘Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t come to ‘The Room’ today, I’m going to be mad at you. Personally mad at you.’ And...he showed up.” (smiles) “Looking back on it now, I shouldn’t have put him on the spot like that, but I...wanted things to be okay again.” (pauses) “So we talked about it, cleared up some misunderstandings, said too many embarrassing things...and we’ve been inseparable since then.”
《 HIS SIDE 》
Haechan: “I think I always knew, as cringy as that sounds.” (smiles) “Back then...I was going through a lot. A lot of things happened with the family business, and it ended up falling through, so I ended up having to step up and help support my family.” (pauses) “It took a lot out of me. I was only 15. I was just entering high school. And I already knew that the teachers didn’t like me and that most of my classmates were afraid of talking to me. I mean, I couldn’t blame them, though. My part-time job started after school, so I had to leave right after classes ended. And I’d always have to take my younger siblings to their school, so I usually ended up being late to class.” (pauses, again) “Well, it doesn’t matter what my excuses were; I was never someone who followed the rules. I always wanted to stand out somehow, and I guess the teenage-Donghyuck thought that going against the grain was the best way to get that attention.”
Haechan: “But Y/N saw past all of that. At first, it was...scary. I knew that I liked her, but I also knew that being with her would be bad for her reputation, so I tried to distance myself from her. I ignored her at school, I stopped going to the storage room, I didn’t answer her texts...but no matter how hard I tried to distance myself from her, she always found a way back into my heart.” (pauses) “She said that she didn’t care about what other people thought and only cared about being with me. She asked me not to push her away anymore...so I stopped. Because I knew that I’d completely fallen for her, and that she was going to find some way to end up right by my side, right where I wanted her to be all along.”
『 Haechan smiles, then holds up his left hand. On the fourth finger sits a platinum band. 』
Haechan: “And now she’s going to be by my side forever. Kind of cool, right?”
『 Y/N glances at his elevated hand, then holds up hers as well. On her fourth finger sits a thin platinum band with a beautiful round diamond in the middle. An “aw!” can be heard off-camera. 』
《 BOTH SIDES 》
Haechan: “Wasn’t it troubling for you?”
Y/N: “Hm? What do you mean?”
Haechan: “I’m sure that the teachers started to, you know, treat you differently after we started going out.”
Y/N: (shrugs) “They said some really annoying things at first, but my grades didn’t change ㅡ actually, mine stayed the same, yours improved ㅡ so they stopped mentioning it to me.”
Haechan: “But you heard what everyone said about us, right?”
Y/N: “No? What’d they say?”
Haechan: “That I was bullying you into dating me.”
Y/N: “...People actually said that? How’d you know?”
Haechan: “How could you not know? They’d whisper to each other whenever we’d walk by.”
Y/N: (shrugs, again) “I was too focused on you to notice.”
『 Haechan pauses, then buries his face into his hands and lets out a short, high-pitched squeal before looking back up. 』
Haechan: “How’re you able to say something like that with such a straight face?”
Y/N: “Huh?”
『 Laughter can be heard from behind the camera. Haechan smiles, then shakes his head. 』
Haechan: “Nothing, baby. Please don’t ever change, Y/N.”
Y/N: “O-Okay, I’ll try not to.”
“What’s it been like watching your partner grow up?”
《 HER SIDE 》
Y/N: “Watching him grow ㅡ and also growing with him ㅡ has been so fun. He’s found the means to pursue what he really loves doing, and watching that side of him grow more and more present has been really rewarding and inspiring. He’s still a troublemaker, and sometimes he drives me crazy, but the way he approaches new challenges and navigates his problems and reaches out to other people for help is so...mature. Thinking about it even now makes me feel so proud...but it also makes me realize how far he’s come. And while I’m so, so happy for him...there’ve been a lot of moments where I had to stop myself from thinking really bad thoughts. Things like, ‘I don’t deserve to be by his side’ or ‘Maybe he’d be happier without me’...I thought about those things a lot. And it didn’t help that I was going through a slump, at the time.”
Y/N: “Unlike Donghyuck, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I did well in school, not because I liked school, but because my parents wanted me to do well. I didn’t have any hobbies, I didn’t have any goals, I didn’t even really have any strong likes or dislikes. I just...this sounds really bad, but I felt like a waste of space. So that, in combination with all of the other insecurities I was feeling, made me feel really scared. I felt like I was being left behind.” (pauses) “But things have gotten better. I’ve switched to a major that I really like, I have a plan for the future, and I’m even engaged now.” (smiles) “I’m confident that things will turn out okay.”
《 HIS SIDE 》
Haechan: “It’s been...crazy, to be completely honest.” (pauses) “I always knew that Y/N would succeed in whatever she wanted to do. Like, there was no space in my mind where I ever doubted that. And I guess it led to...some type of inferiority complex, I guess.” (sighs) “I know that she would never compare me to other people, but I compared myself to others all the time, and I think that insecurity started getting the better of me. I was scared, honestly. I wasn’t in college, I was barely making enough money to pay for my half of our rent, I was literally just making music out of our room all day. I wasn’t like the guys in her department. I couldn’t provide for her or take her anywhere nice. I just...” (sighs, again) “Her loving me meant everything to me. I didn’t need anything else, I just needed her. But the longer we were together, the less confident I felt about whether or not she felt the same way.”
Haechan: “Luckily, things got better after I signed with my agency and started making actual money. I didn’t feel as insecure or jealous about her guy friends, I wasn’t as scared of her leaving me...things became okay again, and I think it’s because I started learning to acknowledge myself first.” (smiles)
《 BOTH SIDES 》
Y/N: “You’ve changed a lot since we were kids.”
Haechan: (smiles) “I hope that’s a good thing.”
Y/N: (nods) “It is. Even just looking at you like this reminds me of how much of a grown-up you’ve become.”
Haechan: “It’s not just me, though. You’ve changed ㅡ well, I think ‘evolved’ is a better word.”
Y/N: “Like a Pokémon?”
Haechan: (laughs) “Yeah, like a Pokémon.” (smiles) “I feel like you’re more confident in your identity now.”
Y/N: (nods) “I think so too. I at least feel like I have some sort of purpose now.”
Haechan: “I haven’t mentioned this to you before, but I think it’s really cool that we’ve gotten to grow together. Because it’s not just you-doing-you and me-doing-me, we’ve grown a lot just by being together.”
Y/N: (smiles) “I think so too. Sometimes it really felt like we only had each other, and I think being able to rely on each other like that really helped us mature into who we are right now.”
Haechan: “It’s not something that’s going to stop, either. You promised you’d stay with me for the rest of my life, remember?”
Y/N: (laughs) “I do remember. Please continue to take care of me.”
Haechan: (laughs) “Likewise.”
“What’s something that you want to say to your partner?”
《 HER SIDE 》
Y/N: “Lee Donghyuck. Haechan. My full sun. I...don’t even know where to start.” (chuckles, softly) “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I know that sometimes you worry about what other people think of our relationship, but just knowing that you love me already means more than enough to me.” (smiles) “When we first met, I felt like...I felt like nothing. I felt like a waste of space. But meeting you...my everything changed after meeting you. It’s like...my world became so colorful and beautiful after meeting you. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”
『 Y/N opens her mouth to speak again, but tightens her lips together before using her sleeves to wipe away at the tears flowing down her cheeks. Haechan scoots his chair closer to hers, then reaches over to take her hand in his. He offers a soft but comforting smile, which Y/N returns. 』
Y/N: “Thank you for loving me, Lee Donghyuck. Thank you for supporting me through my toughest days and for listening to my silly stories and for teaching me how to love the worst parts of myself. I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”
《 HIS SIDE 》
『 Haechan takes a moment to watch Y/N as she scrolls through her phone to choose a song. Y/N, realizing that Haechan is watching her, looks up. She sets her phone on top of the table and reaches out to hold his hand. Haechan smiles. 』
Haechan: “Y/N, I don’t think meeting you was a simple coincidence. You came into my life when I needed you the most, and you’ve changed my life in ways that I didn’t know were even possible for someone like me. To you, I must’ve been the biggest loser, but you saw past all of the ugly parts of my personality and accepted me for who I am. That meant everything to the me from back then. It still means everything to me, even now. The fact that you’ve continued to love me and somehow accepted my proposal...it means everything. I love you. I will make you happy for the rest of our lives.”
『 The interview ends. Y/N stands up first and helps Haechan out of his chair. Haechan pulls Y/N into a hug and nuzzles his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck. Y/N smiles softly and runs her fingers through his hair as she whispers something into his ear. The two share a sweet kiss before pulling away and bowing to the staff. They step off-camera and exit the studio. The video fades to black. 』
#haechan imagines#haechan x reader#haechan fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct reactions#nct fluff#nct dream fluff
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i think we could do it if we tried
So I misread a prompt, and didn’t realize until halfway through the fic. This was the result and it ended up being weirdly personal? If you hate it or think it’s unrealistic, I know, it’s just wishful thinking, ok?😭
i think we could do it if we tried
You’re sure Jamie’s expression will be burned into your mind forever. After all, you’re the one who put it there.
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you say, tears streaming down your face, “I’m the one who’s breaking up with you.”
Jamie just laughs wetly. “Not your fault, though, is it?”
That just makes you cry harder.
You and Jamie had been friends for a long time, and he’d been in love with you forever. You didn’t return the feeling until you turned eighteen. It was on your birthday, actually. He had insisted on wearing a birthday hat all day, despite that fact that he was at training and you were at home, so you didn’t see each other until the end of the day. Something about seeing the sparkly cone on his head did something to your heart, and there it was; you loved him.
You suppose the love was always there, lying dormant, but now it had arisen. It took you a week to muster up the courage to tell him, but you did and now it felt like the world made sense.
Now, a month later, you’re breaking up with him.
Jamie had been playing football for a while now, and he was really, really good. You were beginning your studies as an undergrad and had your life mapped out until grad school. He was moving away soon and you were leaving tomorrow, but that wasn’t the reason you were breaking up.
It’s because your parents didn’t approve.
“I can’t make them understand,” you tell Jamie, willing yourself not to cry. “And… I know I’m eighteen, but they’re paying for university. They said they’d pay all the way through grad school, and I can’t afford it on my own.”
Jamie nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.
“God, it’s fuckin’ shitty, ain’t it?” he says. “Me ‘n you, finally figuring it out too late.”
You can only nod and sniff. Your parents told you that Jamie was a good friend, but nothing more.
“You’re only projecting feelings onto him because you know he likes you,” your mum had said. “And besides, he plays football. Can’t support a family on that, can you?”
Any protests you made fell on deaf ears. Your parents never explicitly said they’d pull their financial support, but it was hinted. It hung in the air, poisoning the atmosphere in the house. Your mother’s displeasure saturated the building, affecting everyone inside.
So here you are, standing in the dim light of Jamie’s mum’s porch, breaking up with him at 10pm.
He knew it was coming, too.
“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, yeah?” he’d said two days earlier.
You just nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about quitting football,” he continued, “Get a real job, stay closer.”
You had protested vehemently. He loved football, and he was good, like really good, and how could you ask him to give it up?
So yeah, it wasn’t a total blindside.
Still hurt, though.
You stood there, a long time, without speaking. You were memorizing each other’s faces and the way it felt being together for the last time.
There’s a light on in Georgie’s room, and you wonder if she’ll still love you despite the fact you broke her baby’s heart.
Jamie finally breaks the silence. “You should go,” he says, “before your parents figure out you’re gone.”
You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just reach out and squeeze his hand. He pulls you in for a hug, the tightest one you’ve ever received, and you never want to let go. But you do.
You fight the urge to say I’ll wait for you. I’ll find you when I’m done with school. We’ll make it work. But you don’t want to give him false hope. You don’t want to hurt him more than you already have.
So instead, you whisper “I love you, Jamie Tartt,” and force yourself to walk away.
—
That was six years ago. You pushed yourself through school, got out with your BA in three and a half years, and scraped through your MA in two. There were times it felt a little like hell, but you persevered.
You’re pretty sure the worst moment was during your third year, when your roommate, a football aficionado, started talking about Man City’s hotshot new player.
“Oh my god, he’s like, so fucking sexy. The things he does on the pitch… he’s like, revolutionized the game.”
“Hm,” you say noncommittally, lost in a textbook.
“Yeah, heard he’s a bit of a prick though. Grew up in Manchester, and he’s about our age. D’you reckon you knew him?”
“What?” you say, finally lifting your eyes from the page. “I didn’t grow up in Manchester, just lived there when I was a teenager.”
Your roommate shrugs. “Did you know a ‘Jamie Tartt?’ Dating Keeley Jones?”
And there it was. The worst moment of your whole university career.
You turn back to your book in order to hide your face. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” you say, and your roommate doesn’t push it. She’s too busy telling you how Jamie and Keeley are the hottest, most perfect couple she’s ever seen.
You’re past that now. It still feels like a stabbing pain every time you hear his name or see his face on a screen, but for the most part, you’ve shut down that part of your brain.
You might have shut it down a little too successfully.
In the last six years, you’ve been in exactly two relationships. Both short-lived, both leaving you with a sense of apathy.
But, your parents approved of both of them. Didn’t matter that they were shallow, self-absorbed dickheads; “He’s cute and has a good job!” your mum had said, oblivious to the fact that she was replaying the exact same pitch to you from before.
You had felt a rush of relief when the news hit that Jamie and Keeley had broken up. You hated hearing about all his escapades, and how much he hurt her. It made your heart ache, knowing he was burying himself in his prickish attitude the same way you were burying yourself in yours.
Well, maybe that’s too harsh. You aren’t a prick per se, you’re just… cold. Emotionless. You felt very little this days, because every time you felt the tiniest bit of anything, everything threatened to overwhelm you.
After school, you just… kept moving. No sense in going home, you loved your family but they made you feel like you were drowning. And you couldn’t make yourself go back to Manchester.
Georgie called you from time to time, checking up on you. Turns out she didn’t hate you. She was actually rather worried. She never, ever mentioned Jamie.
“You can’t just stop living life, love,” she had said one time. “That’s all it is: love and loss. You just keep moving forward.”
You took her advice literally, securing a good job that allowed you to work remotely. You moved to the east side of London, West Ham, but were never at your flat longer than a week. After all, you were hot and had a good job. Why not travel? You had no strings keeping you anywhere.
Now you’re back in West Ham for two weeks, getting ready to go to Barcelona. A friend has a timeshare that she can’t make it to, so you volunteered to go. After all, it’s better to be apathetic in Barcelona than it is in West Ham, right?
Whatever the case, you’re here for much longer than you’d like to be, but you’re going to make the best of it. You have a friend from uni who lives near you, so you’re going out tonight. She wants to go to some upscale restaurant a couple minutes from your flat with a few other girls, and you decide that you’d rather not be alone tonight.
You don’t mention that it’s your birthday. You stopped celebrating them at nineteen.
Your hair and makeup are done, you’ve put together an appropriate fancy-dinner outfit, and you’d say you’re looking classy. You grab your bag and head out the door.
It’s only a ten-minute walk, and there are all kinds of people out. You wonder why, then remember it’s Saturday. That explains it.
There’s an especially rowdy bunch of guys up ahead, seemingly corralled by a middle-aged man with a mustache. As you draw closer, you hear his accent. American, specifically mid-Western. You breeze by them, catching snatches of their conversations and a mix of accents.
Your ear tunes into someone saying, “…not what really happened,” with an accent that reminds you so much of Jamie’s, you find yourself rooted to your spot in the sidewalk, turning around to confirm that it is not, in fact, him.
You make eye contact with the middle-aged mustached man, who smiles at you and shrugs. “Footballers. What a rowdy bunch,” he says, “Wonder where their coach’s at?”
You surmise by his jocular tone that he’s their coach.
You give him a small smile and he comes over to you. Your feet still won’t move, because you haven’t confirmed that the voice was not Jamie. Or maybe because this man is a gaffer, and you want him to say something, anything about possibly knowing Jamie Tartt.
“I’m Ted,” he says, sticking out his hand.
You shake it and give him your name. At this point, his team have noticed that their coach is talking to someone new, and they descend like a flock of curious children.
There’s a chorus of hellos and one hola, but it’s all a little lost because all you can hear is one soft, “hey.”
“Hi,” you breathe.
One look into Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes and you’re a goner, even after six years.
Ted looks from you to Jamie. “Oh, do y’all know each other? Jamie, why didn’t you say something?”
“Dunno,” Jamie says, keeping his eyes on you.
Ted, great man that he is, assesses the situation with alarming perception.
“Alright boys, why don’t we let Jamie catch up with his lady-friend, and we’ll just text him where we end up, sound good?”
It does not sound good to them, because they can tell something interesting is about to happen, but Ted and another bearded American herd them away and down the street, leaving you and Jamie alone on the sidewalk.
“How you been?” he asks, looking awkward as you feel.
“I’ve been…” what word is there to describe how you’ve been? You settle for a shrug.
He nods and huffs out a single chuckle. “Yeah, that about sums it up, don’t it?”
“What about you?” you ask, reaching out to lightly tap his arm. “Heard you were some hotshot footballer.”
Jamie imitates your shrug. “Heard you were some hotshot something or the other.”
You crack a small smile at that. “Georgie tell you?”
“Yeah,” Jamie says, “Felt the need to keep me updated. Don’t fuckin’ know why though.”
That hurts a little bit. This is a mistake, you think. You begin to realize, perhaps for the first time, that your pining after him was pointless. And one-sided.
That is, until Jamie says so softly you almost miss it, “Happy birthday, by the way.”
There it is.
You open your mouth to say, I love you, but what comes out instead is, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Jamie asks in surprise.
“I’m just… sorry. For everything. For walking away. I don’t know, I feel like I should have fought it or something… I think about you all the time. I wish that I would’ve done something different, I guess. I know I can’t change it, but…” you shrug helplessly.
Jamie just looks at you, head tilted.
You huff out an awkward laugh. “Anyway. I should probably go. Meeting a bunch of girls for drinks and dinner.”
“You hate that shit,” Jamie says, and it comes out the exact same way he would have said it six years ago. Like he’s comfortable with you, like he knows every single tick in your brain.
“I do,” you agree ruefully. “Just couldn’t get out of it, I guess. Didn’t have a good excuse.”
“Go out with me,” Jamie suggests, impulsively. But then, he was never one for forethought.
Your mouth opens to decline, then shuts.
“You’re done with school, yeah?” Jamie continues, “Mum said you haven’t been home in ages. Said she knows more about you than your parents. What if… what if we gave it another go? We’re fuckin’ adults, ain’t we? Let’s just fucking try.”
He’s looking at you, so full of anxious hope that it makes you want to cry. You can feel a few tears fighting their way forward.
“Jamie,” you say, “Jamie I don’t know. I mean- I hurt you. I knew what I was doing would hurt you and I did it anyway. I could hurt you again.”
Jamie replies, “Weren’t your fault though, was it?” and you’re taken back so vividly to that front porch.
You look at him, really look at him for the first time in six years. He’s older, you realize, and you think that he must think something similar about you. He’s calmer, almost- gentler? Still the same Jamie though, with the blonde highlights and the slit in his eyebrow. Outrageous sense of fashion, one that is no longer dulled by the ominous presence of his father. He’s more sure of himself, you think, and you realize you’re more sure too.
There isn’t anything hanging over your head threatening to take your livelihood away.
It’s poetic, really. You, him, in the dim streetlight. Deciding to begin again exactly six years after it ended.
“Jamie,” you say again, because you love the way his name feels on your lips, “I didn’t ever stop loving you. I don’t ever want to stop loving you.”
He’s taken a step closer, and there’s mere centimeters between you.
“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, right?” you whisper, “Been thinking about stopping traveling. Maybe settle down closer, focus on my job more.”
Jamie smiles. “Go out with me,” he says. “Skip your dinner. You’d have a shit time, anyway.”
You smile back and reach out for his hand. It still fits perfectly in yours. Maybe even better.
“I would love to.”
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt#ted lasso
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I've Got Those Roommate Blues
Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: Reader is a grad student in college trying to work hard for her degree while maintaining a long distance relationship with Dean Winchester. But what happens when Dean isn't there? This is part two of my "Before You Go" series, but it can be read as a stand alone fic.
Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Age Difference, (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's), Protective Dean, Established Relationship
Word Count: 7K
Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure, because this fic contains attempted sexual assault/ dude being super creepy and sleazy. There is some swearing, mentions of sex (not explicit, but it's there), references to past sex, Dean might be a little bit OOC.
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
You dragged yourself through the front door of your apartment shaking rain from Dean’s oversized green coat that was wrapped around your shoulders and stomping your black rain boots on the welcome mat. He left it the last time he came to see you, a welcome surprise, given that it still smelled like him, but it made you miss him even more.
He hadn’t been by in a month, not for lack of trying. It seemed that every time he got ready to make the six hour drive from the bunker to your apartment, there would be an emergency, but you tried not to be disappointed. You understood that what he did was equally important if not more that what you were trying to accomplish at Med School. And at least Dean made an effort to keep your long distance relationship afloat. You remember before you got serious with him, when he wouldn’t call or text, just show up out of the blue and leave after a few days, breaking your heart every time. You were thankful those days were over.
Those days had been hard, when each day you hoped he would show up only to be disappointed, when you turned down dates from others because there was only one person in particular you were waiting for, when each time he showed up you felt your heart warm, and when each time he left you felt it sink in dismay. You hadn’t expected Dean to give in to an exclusive relationship when you gave him an ultimatum, but now 3 months in you were happier than you’d ever been.
Even if it was just long distance.
The late night phone calls, flirty texts, and the occasional picture kept you both in touch. Of course none of that could replace how you felt when Dean was with you. You missed waking up with him, watching a movie in bed, going out for pie, driving around in Baby and all the other wonderful things that you did with Dean.
But this was the deal you made when you started dating, a fact that you had to remind yourself of often. You wouldn’t make Dean feel bad about his job and you would finish school. When you graduated you could think about moving closer to him, but until then you were stuck. And missing Dean.
“Hey sweetie!” Your roommate, Suze, crows from the couch as you enter the living room.
Something animated plays on the tv, bathing the room in brilliant white and blue light, but when you raise your eyes from the mat to look at her, you’re surprised to see that she’s not alone, her boyfriend Cooper sits next to her, his arm thrown around her shoulders.
You try to not look disappointed. Cooper and Suze had been dating on and off for a few months, and you always tried your best to either stay in your room or out of the apartment when he was there. It wasn’t that he was mean to you, it was that sometimes he made you uncomfortable. Like the time he “accidentally” walked into your room while you were getting changed and proclaimed that he didn’t know where the bathroom was, as if finding it in a two bedroom apartment required a masters degree, or like the time Suze left early for work and Cooper asked you to go to dinner with him or like right now when he traced his brown eyes up and down you form as if trying to see through your clothes.
You shudder into the jacket, thankful that it was bulky enough to cover your body.
“Hey Suze. Cooper.” Your smile is more tight lipped than you want it to be. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
You hadn’t told Suze. Yes you were roommates, but sometimes it felt more convenience than friendship. You both didn’t go out of your way to spend time together. Another reason why you were looking forward to moving out after graduation to start your residency.
“Well I didn’t want to stay away from my girl for too long.” His hand raises from her bicep to rest directly between her collar bones, closer than you would have liked to her chest.
The urge to vomit rises in the back of your throat.
I mean, Dean is handsy sometimes, but not in a creepy way. At least he doesn’t make eye contact with someone else when his hands drift. Dean's usually looking at me. You think to yourself with a frown.
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m just gonna go-uh- study.” You lie.
“Didn’t you have a test today?” Suze leans further into his touch making you even more uncomfortable.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to get behind, plus Dean is coming this weekend and I don’t want to have to study the whole time he's here-"
“Hasn’t he cancelled on you the last few times?” Cooper asks.
You blink. Why did he remember that?
“Yeah. Family emergency.” It was the excuse you always used when someone asked you why Dean couldn't make it.
“What is it this time? His mom has a cold or something?" Cooper chuckles at his joke. "Kinda sounds like he’s with someone else and he doesn’t want to be here with you.” He shrugs. “Maybe you should break it off with him, consider your other options." Cooper's smirk turns into more of a sideways grin that makes your stomach turn in knots.
“I'm good.” You say as monotone as possible, lips pulling down into a frown.
You turn and walk down the dark hallway, thankful that Dean's jacket is big enough to hide your figure.
As soon as the lock on your bedroom door clicks, you fall onto the bed face first with a loud groan, dropping your backpack along the way.
Your room was small, smaller when Dean stayed, but you always welcomed that. When he was here it felt more like home and less like a way station. The mediocre study-sleep-eat-work cycle was becoming a mantra and it seemed that the only time you were actually in your apartment was to sleep or change
There was that one time when I camped out in the library. You think to yourself remembering exam week.
It was 24/7 and you stayed after your shift to study for exams but nodded off. Dean had been mad about that though, upset that you slept in a public space where anyone or anything could have walked in. You thought that it was hypocritical for him to condemn your sleep schedule when you knew for a fact he went days without sleep.
Plus it was easier to sleep in the library instead of making the trek in the morning.
You sit up to look around the room. It was small, just big enough to fit a full-sized bed in, the thought made you smile. Dean barely fit in the bed, he was too tall and broad, and each time he would groan about how Baby’s backseat was ten times bigger and that you both might as well go sleep in there. However, you knew he secretly liked how small the bed was. The small size of the bed meant that you had to practically sleep on top of him, and Dean was not one to complain about cuddling. He often coaxed you into bed to study instead of at your cluttered desk because it meant you used him as a pillow while he watched tv and you tried to understand Metabolic Pathways and commit anatomical structures to heart.
Of course Dean always made the joke that he could help you study anatomy more than a dusty old textbook could. Your cheeks redden thinking about the last time he helped you “study.” It had been beneficial, but you didn’t need to have the memory of what you did to study distract you from the test questions. But what a wonderful distraction it was. The proctor of the exam had asked if you were okay because you looked a little flushed. Dean of course thought it was hilarious when you told him after he picked you up.
The room served its purpose. It had a small desk in the corner covered in textbooks and papers, a small closet, a cassette tape player that Dean bought you so you could listen to mixtapes he made, the ones he brought whenever he’d come visit with ridiculous names scribbled over the label and the ones you’d listen to when you missed him the most, and a dresser that was spilling clothes out of the drawers with a small T.V sitting on top. A purchase that happened after you started dating because it meant that Dean and you did not have to sit in the living room on the couch to enjoy a movie together.
You turn over on your back and fish your cellphone out of the deep pockets of the jacket, before calling Dean.
"Hey Sweetheart, how was the big test?" Dean’s voice washes away any sour feelings you have from interacting with Cooper.
“Harrowing.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“It was 156 questions.”
“Shit.”
"It’s okay, but my brain feels like mush." You groan pressing your fingers to your temple.
“Don’t joke about that. Sam knew a guy that died from mushy brain syndrome.”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.”
“Oh I’m pretty sure it’s like Mad Cow-“
“I haven’t ingested human flesh recently so the possibility of me having that is low.“
“If you ever do let me know, because that could be any number of things.”
“I don’t know. I think if I told you I’d suddenly developed a craving for human flesh, you’d shoot me. I’d rather just keep it under wraps and hope that I didn’t eat you by accident.”
“I’m sure I’d be delicious.”
“Dean!” You snort.
“What? You were thinking it.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I also wouldn’t shoot you.” He laughs.
The laugh is enough to make your heart jump and buckle in your chest followed by a wave of loneliness.
I miss him. You think to yourself as you burrow further into the jacket with a sigh, and reach for a pillow to hold against your chest, wishing that it was him. “Oh right, you’d make Sam do it.”
“No. I’d lock you up and have Cas deal with it. Work some of that angel magic shit or whatever.”
“How are they?”
You had met Sam a few times and Cas only once. Learning that he was an angel was a bit of a shock. Despite listening to Dean's stories, sometimes you wished he was kidding about there being another world of dangerous supernatural creatures.
But you thought that Cas was sweet.
Your cheeks flush with embarrassment remembering the first time you met Cas, when Dean was undressing you in his bedroom and Cas teleported in because he forgot about normal things like knocking. Dean couldn’t stop laughing at you when you fell off the bed with a squeal at Cas’s appearance.
Of course he laughed. He wasn’t the one who was naked. And he wasn’t the one who had to have the awkward conversation with Cas later about the importance of knocking.
“Sam’s geeking out as usual, and Cas is-“ Dean pauses. “I don’t actually know where he is.”
“Did you lose him?” You laugh into the phone.
“No I think he said he had something he had to take care of. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You really have to work on those listening skills babe. So, what’s the monster of the day?”
“Sam thinks Vampires.”
“Well he’s usually right.”
“Don’t tell him that. It’ll go to his head.”
You hear a metallic clink in the background and imagine Dean standing at the back of Baby, sorting through the arsenal of weapons.
There are so many red flags that I choose to ignore about this man. You think to yourself. The trunk of Dean's car was probably the biggest red flag, or it would be if you didn't know what Dean did for a living.
“I’m sure Sam already knows but let me text him real quick.”
“Sweetheart.”
“Please be careful.” You sigh tightening your grip on the phone. Trying not to worry about Dean was hard given the family history and his stories about what had happened to him already. The thought of one day getting a call from Sam to tell you that Dean was dead haunted you.
"I'm always-" Dean begins to say.
"No. No you're not."
"I am."
"Dean."
"I'm careful enough."
At least it’s only vampires. You reason to yourself with a sigh. I can't believe that's something I've ever thought.
You hated it when Dean told you about some of the worse creatures out there, hated everything that he had been through over the years. But vampires were easier, you guessed, or at least he never seemed to be too worried about vampires.
He will be fine. He's with Sam. Sam knows what he's doing, Cas will probably show up and help.
The sound of your roommate and her boyfriend watching T.V bleeds through the thin walls. Cooper mumbles something to Suze that makes her giggle.
Why can’t they just leave?
"I can hear your frown on the phone. What's wrong?" Dean asks.
“Um." You bite the inside of your cheek to avoid saying what's on your mind. You and Dean had never talked about Cooper before. Dean knew that Suze was "dating" someone, but he had never met him.
"You still there doll?"
"Well, my roommate's boyfriend is here and there are thin walls." You begin slowly.
"Oh so you get a front row seat to all the reunion sex." Dean laughs. “Probably payback for whenever I stay with you.”
He thinks he’s so clever.
Your cheeks flush bright red. "Well yes, but at least we try to be quiet. They’re really loud." You press your lips together in a tight line, briefly wondering where your noise canceling headphones are. "But, it’s not funny. He's kinda creepy-"
"What?" Dean's tone changes from flirty to serious. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know he's-" You shrug as if he can see it. "He's okay."
"You're gonna need to give me more detail that that sweetheart,"
Dean's silver ring warms between your thumb and forefinger as you bite your lip. You had begun wearing it around your neck on a chain. It was comforting, a reminder of the promise he made to you 3 months ago that he hadn't broken.
"Well, the last time he was here I kinda thought he was coming on to me." You confess.
"What?"
"I mean, Suze had just left for work and he asked me if I wanted to get something to eat. But it kinda felt like he was asking me out. And then there was this other time when he walked in while I was changing-" You shut yout eyes, waiting for Dean's response.
“He came into your room while you were changing?” You can hear the clench of Dean’s jaw in his voice.
Dean was always fiercely protective of you, a trait that you had never found attractive until you met him. It made you unafraid when you went out late to a bar together or when he sat with you in the library in the middle of the night, or when you went on a pizza run at 2 am. Knowing that Dean was there made you fearless in the best way.
“He made a mistake and he apologized.” You wave a hand in front of you as if trying to brush away the thought. “Plus he’ll be gone in a few days and then you’ll be here. You are still coming this weekend right?"
You think about the sneer and the taunt Cooper gave you when you got home about Dean blowing you off. You knew that Dean wasn’t cheating. Sure he was flirty, but you trusted him. If anything Dean probably worried more about you cheating, but you wouldn’t do that to him, couldn’t do that to him, not after everything he’d been through. You couldn’t imagine yourself with anyone else, didn’t want to. Perhaps that scared you a little, how much you needed him. You’d never needed anybody else before.
"Yes. I’m only two states away and I promise I’m going to make it this time.” The plea for understanding is clear in his voice. “I’m sorry about last time-“
“You don’t have to apologize, I understand. I really miss you though. I wore your jacket today but it doesn’t smell enough like you anymore.”
“You’re weird.”
“You love it.”
“Yes I do.” His voice is softer when he says it, sending pins and needles across your skin. “Did you eat today?” Dean's voice is tinged with worry.
He knew your tendency to forget something like that, especially when you were studying or stressed about a test. Whenever he’d visit, Dean always showed up with food and a bag of snacks that he shoved into your room by your desk so you would remember to eat something when he wasn’t there. It was the question he always asked you because he knew that no matter how intrenched you were in studying it would be enough to pull out of the hole and send you into the kitchen.
“Not yet.”
“Doll-“
“I know. I’ll go out and get something in a bit.” You fiddle with the ring.
“I’d feel better if you ate something now.” Dean says.
“It’s okay I just forgot-“
“Y/n.” He sighs your name, but you still love the way it sounds.
“I know. I’ll wait until Cooper and Suze leave, they’re still watching T.V. I don’t really want to walk out there again.” You press your lips together in a tight line remembering his eyes on you and what he said about considering your options.
Yeah, not going to mention THAT to Dean.
Dean doesn’t say anything for a second. “Who is this guy again?”
“Someone she met at a frat party forever ago. Basically on and off fuck buddy until something better comes around. At least for him anyway.” You remember the last time they broke up and what a mess Suze was. It had made you feel guilty enough to sit with her one night and watch a few rom coms and hold a box of tissues.
No one should go through a break up alone.
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know he’s just kinda creepy. Sometimes I think he’s staring at me or whatever. Maybe I’m paranoid.”
“You should go to the bunker for a few days-“ Dean begins to say.
“I’ve got class- plus it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Y/n, I don’t want you staying there with him.”
“Come on it was you that taught me a few maneuvers to get someone to back off.” Your smile turns more into a smirk. “I actually remember you teaching me a few other things too, but I don’t remember those being used to push someone away. I remember those things being better when you’re really close to someone. Might need a refresh when you get here, as I recall I was a good student, very eager to learn.”
“Don’t tease me right now. I really miss you. It’s been too long.” Dean groans into the phone.
“I know. I miss you too. But you’ll be here in a few days and my brain will no longer be mushy and I’ll be all yours.”
“Can’t wait.”
"Be careful."
"I will."
"Tell Sam and Cas I say hi."
"Okay. Text me when you go to bed and please get something to eat.”
"Okay. I will."
"Bye Sweetheart."
"Bye Dean."
When you hang up you feel the weight settle in the pit of your stomach again.
All I have to do is last til the weekend. 3 days, more like 2 1/2 because Dean will be here on Friday. You think to yourself with a sigh.
You lay on your back for a minute thinking about what you planned for the weekend. There was a vintage car show happening only an hour away and knew that Dean would not want to miss that, especially if it meant showing off Baby and spending time with you. When you first started dating officially, Dean had taken you to one a few states over, and had been surprised when he realized you knew almost as much about cars as he did. Your dad’s obsession with them lead to a childhood of car shows and junkyards and meant you had a healthy dose of car knowledge. You probably would have been a mechanical engineer if you hadn’t liked medicine more.
But then that meant you never would have met Dean. You wouldn’t have been living at the apartment where he collapsed in the hallway with jagged scratches up his chest and a bite mark on his shoulder. That meant that you wouldn’t have dragged a complete stranger inside and treated his wounds while he complained like a baby and lied about how he got them.
Dean never got better at lying to you. You smile at the memory that's quickly followed by the one of when he chose you. However, you didn’t know that he had chosen you the day that a complete stranger pulled him into their apartment and began to take care of him better than anyone ever had.
The sound of Cooper and Suze laughing pulls you out of your head for a second and brings the weight back down on your stomach.
You just had to survive to the weekend. How hard could it be?
The next two days trickle by. Another test rears it's ugly head, a pop quiz darkens your doorstep, and an overnight shift at the library causes you to drag your feet all over campus. But you welcome it. It meant that you weren't in the apartment long enough to be around Cooper. A welcome bonus to having a busy week, because you couldn't find your noise cancelling headphones and one night was enough.
Dean hadn't been able to call, only text you to let you know that he was still coming and that he was alive. It wasn't the same as hearing his voice.
But you made it to Thursday night, that meant that you would be seeing Dean in less than 24 hours and the anticipation was killing you. You could hardly wait to see him, wished that you could sleep through the next few hours and wake up with Dean.
The apartment is quiet when you creep into the kitchen for a late-night snack, quiet enough that you figured Suze and Cooper had gone to bed a while ago. You couldn't figure out why he was still here. He did not often sleep over, usually Cooper would stay for a few hours and then high tail it to whatever rock he crawled out from under.
The kitchen was small, divided from the living room by a large bar bolted to the ground that ran from one wall and jutted out into the beginning of the hallway that led to your room. It meant that there was only one way in and out of the kitchen, past the refrigerator. Suze's room was directly across from the living room and the front door while yours was further back in the apartment down the dark hallway that also held the bathroom.
You stand up on your toes to reach into the cabinet for the peanut butter. Suze was taller than you and often forgot to leave it on a lower shelf, despite all the times you reminded her.
Come on. Your hand finally closes around the jar-
"Hey." A voice says behind you.
You jump up and hit your head on the cabinet door. "Ow." You groan turning around with the peanut butter jar in your hand, and rubbing the bump with your other one.
Cooper is leaning against the refrigerator door shirtless, wearing a pair of dark boxers that are slung low on his hips. His appearance makes the warm feeling of excitement that you have over seeing Dean so soon fizzle up and die.
I don't have time for this right now.
"Cooper. I didn’t see you. Um- where’s Suze?" You keep your voice even as you look away to get a butter knife in the drawer to your left.
Maybe he'll just go away. You hoped, but honestly you knew it was wishful thinking.
"She’s asleep." Cooper runs a hand through his reddish hair to push it back from his face.
"Oh. Did you need something?" You continue to act like you don't care that he's there, when it's taking all your willpower not to go back to your room. You don't like how dark it is in the kitchen, or the way that his eyes keep tracing your frame. It wasn't that you were wearing anything revealing, you were wearing one of Dean's soft t-shirts that hung past your waist and a pair of gray sweatpants.
But under his gaze you felt, naked.
"I just thought that I’d come talk to you." He sounds casual, nonchalant.
"Why?" You spread peanut butter over the piece of bread before moving it back towards the jar.
"Well, I thought we should talk about us."
Your knife stops halfway in its path. "Us?"
"Come on. It’s obvious that you’re into me."
"What?" You look up at him, face scrunching in confusion.
What the hell is he talking about? You think about all the times you left the room immediately when he walked in, and think about whenever he tried to start a conversation and you smiled tightly and nodded before coming up with an excuse to leave. When have I ever acted like I was into him? If anything I've made it painfully obvious that I don't like him.
Cooper is watching you with the same smirk he had two days ago when he asked you to consider your options. "You’ve been avoiding me because you can’t stand to see Suze and me together."
"No I haven't."
"You have." He smirks wider. "But it's okay. I get it."
"Get what?"
"I get why you're into me. Everyone is."
"I'm not." Your mouth turns downward into a frown.
You don’t have to pretend.” He traces his eyes up and down your body once more, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. “Because I’m into you too.”
“Cooper-“ You breathe, hand tightening on the knife in your hand that is still frozen in the air in front of you.
The temperature in the room seems to have dropped fifty degrees.
“Don’t try to deny it. You always get that cute little flush in your cheeks when you see me.”
“I don’t.”
How many times do I have to say no to this idiot? Is he really that stupid? You wonder to yourself.
“Sure you do. It’s adorable.” Cooper rolls off the refrigerator to take a step into the kitchen. “And I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“Sorry that guy Dean is jerking you around. I’d never do something like that.” His eyes flash in the dim light coming from one of the lamps in the living room.
“He’s not jerking me around-“
“He keeps disappointing you. Let me make you feel better.” Cooper puts his hand on the edge of the bar. He’s still a good 4 feet away, but it’s enough to block you in.
If you wanted to leave the kitchen, you’d have to push past him. And the thought of you touching him or him touching you sends another shiver down your spine.
“Look Cooper. I’m not into you. And as for Dean, our relationship is none of your business-“
“Some relationship. He comes up with those stupid family emergency excuses and ditches you. Do you have any idea what I’d do to you if you were all mine? I’d never leave you ever-“
His confession makes the disgust come roaring back through your chest, followed by the sour taste of bile when you think about what's going to have to happen if he doesn't move out of your way.
You take in a deep breath, standing tall to face him. "But I’m not yours, and I don't want to be yours ever. I’m saying no. No to whatever warped reality you’ve come up with in your head. No to you and me doing anything further. No to me being into you." Your eyes narrow. "And that means two things can happen: one, you go back in that room with your girlfriend or two, we’re going to have a problem. Honestly, I hope you pick door number one because I’m really tired.” Your hand tightens on the knife.
The truth was you weren’t afraid, more disgusted. If you screamed loud enough Suze would hear you and you also still had a knife in your hand hovering between the two of you. It was more the principle of what was happening that was disturbing, his inability to listen to you, to hear you say no.
“Well I think a know a few ways to wake you up baby.”
"I'm not your baby." You snap.
"You could be-"
"Hard pass."
"Aww come on don’t be like that. We both know you want me." Cooper moves forward a step dragging his hand along the counter.
You back up so that the drawers are biting into your back, knife covered in peanut butter clutched in your hand.
Just because you had taken an oath to heal people didn’t mean you were going to let him walk all over you.
"How many times do I have to say no?” You shout, not caring if you wake up Suze, not caring if you wake up the whole damn apartment building.
"Come on it’s been a while for you hasn’t it? That guy Dean’s been stringing you along, hasn’t been taking care of you. I bet he's selfish, doesn’t take care of your needs. You’re saying no to me for him? I guarantee even a few minutes with me will be well worth it. I bet you I can make you feel things that guy can’t.” He takes another step forward so that you’re almost chest to chest. “So why don’t we go back to your room and I’ll-“
Cooper’s body is yanked backward through the air so fast you get whiplash, cutting off his next words.
What the-
Someone is standing there, hand on Cooper’s throat, pinning him to the black refrigerator so tight against the metal that you’re sure it'll leave a dent. The magnets scatter at the feet of the two men, clattering against the floor sharply.
“She said no asshole.” Dean’s low growl vibrates through his chest and you realize the figure towering over Cooper is your boyfriend.
Your wonderful, sweet boyfriend, who told you he was going to be here in the morning, but wanted to surprise you. Relief courses through your veins at his appearance and you let out a shaky breath to compose yourself.
Dean towers over Cooper, who isn’t tall enough to look over his broad shoulders, let alone be as intimidating as Dean. Cooper's gangly frame and short stature made him look like a hobbit compared to Dean's muscular and tall body.
The heat of Dean’s anger burns through the air of the small kitchen as his eyes narrow, staring Cooper down with pure hatred.
“What the hell? Who are you?” Cooper sputters, clawing at Dean’s grip, but Dean doesn’t move. Scarier still is the fact that Dean is acting like Cooper weighs nothing at all, holding him a foot in the air so he can look into Dean's rage filled gaze.
"Cooper, this is Dean, my boyfriend." You say, finding your voice. "The guy that you said has been 'jerking me around.'" You form air quotes around the words. "Maybe you'd like to discuss our relationship with us, since you have so many interesting suggestions."
Cooper's eyes widen when he realizes who Dean is. "Whoa wait a minute I didn't do anything!"
You'd only seen Dean lose it once before, when you were at a bar late and a guy shoved you out of the way to get a drink at the bar. Dean broke his pinky on the guy's face, but he had looked so good doing it. You told him so as you set his pinky later.
Cooper gasps. "I didn't touch her-"
“What you did was enough.” Dean's face is contorted in fury.
“Wait a minute, come on. She’s acting like a fucking tease! You’re never here, she’s always prancing around in these little outfits-“ Cooper lies, grasping at whatever he can to save his own skin.
“Not her style.”
"Please I didn't know you were here-" Cooper twists his body with his plea, but Dean doesn't let go.
"Even if I wasn't, it doesn't give you the right to touch her." Dean spits.
“Cooper?” You turn your head towards the voice and notice Suze standing in the doorway of her bedroom with wide eyes. Her gaze traces over Dean. “What happened?”
“Hey baby.” Cooper smiles at her, his eyes still wide. “We just had a little disagreement that’s all-“ His hands find purchase against the front of Dean's red flannel shirt.
“A little disagreement?” Dean seethes. “Your asshole of a boyfriend was coming on to my girl.” His hand tightens on Cooper’s neck.
“What?” Suze looks Cooper wide eyed before looking at you. "Is that true?"
"Yes." You say gesturing with the peanut butter knife that you forgot was in your hand, before you place it down on the counter, no longer needing it.
Dean's got this.
"Baby come on." Cooper looks at Suze. "Do you think I would do something like that?"
Suze stands there for a minute looking from Dean, to Cooper, to me. "I don’t know.”
“You know me-“ Cooper smiles despite the situation, hoping that she can get Dean to back off. “You know I love you. You think I would throw you away just because a slut like her comes on to me-“
It’s enough for Dean. The sharp crack of Cooper’s nose breaking beneath Dean’s fist fills you with an ungodly amount of pleasure.
Suze's scream pierces the air as she watches the blood begin to flow down Cooper’s chin and onto his bare chest.
“If you ever talk to her, look at her, or try to touch her again,” Deans voice is a growl. “I’ll break more than just your nose.” He drops Cooper, who slides to the floor holding his broken nose.
Dean then grabs your arm and hauls you through the kitchen and into your bedroom, ignoring the string of curses that pour from Cooper’s mouth.
As soon as the door of your bedroom closes behind you, Dean pulls you against him. You can’t help but melt into his warm embrace, the disgusting feeling that rose with Cooper’s attempts to get you in bed fading away.
"Are you okay?" Dean's voice is tight with the force of his anger, but one of his hands moves up and down your back in a soothing motion.
"Yeah." You breathe, cuddling further into his chest.
The smell of leather, metal, and something spicy that you ascribe to your boyfriend makes the hole that opened in you while he was away close. It soothes whatever residual anxiety you had over what almost happened in the kitchen. You rub your face against his warm flannel with a smile, but when you turn your gaze upwards, you realize that Dean isn’t staring down at you like you thought he would be, he’s staring at the door. You can hear Suze and Cooper shouting at one another and it's quickly followed by the slam of the front door that you hope means that Cooper is gone and wouldn't come back ever.
“Dean?” You whisper.
“I should go out there and tear his fucking head off." Dean growls, tightening his grip on your waist.
"Hey. It's okay-"
"No it's not." Dean spits looking down at you. "Nothing that just happened is okay."
"I know." You soothe. "But it's okay. You handled it. I'm pretty sure that Cooper is never going to bother me again-"
"If he ever shows up here. I don't care if you have classes or a test, you call me immediately and come to the bunker. I don't want you here with him." Dean says, his green eyes piercing. "Promise me."
Dean knew better than anyone that you never broke your promises, no matter how big they seemed.
"I promise."
"Okay." Dean's jaw is still tight, but the tension in his shoulders loosens for a second when he looks at you, until finally he sighs. "I missed you." Dean's thumb brushes against your cheek.
"I missed you too. It was such a nice surprise for you to come early." You smile at him, before arching upwards to kiss him, but as soon as your lips meet, Dean winces, his right hand tightening subconsciously on your waist.
"Ow." He hisses, face scrunching up.
"Dean what's wrong?" Your eyes widen with worry. You reach up to cup his cheek, but Dean makes a face leaning away from your touch.
"Vampire got a few lucky hits in." Dean groans.
"What?" You turn on the lamp on your bedside table.
Both the kitchen and your room had been dark enough to hide the discoloration and swelling of Dean's face, but now that he was in the light you understood why he moved away from your touch. As soon as you turn back to look at him, your mouth drops open noting the split lip, the ugly purple bruise that circles his right eye, and the swelling of his jaw. "Dean!"
"I'm okay sweetheart." He tries to smile, but his lip twitches.
"Where else does it hurt?" You ask him gently touching his face where the skin is bruised.
"Just my ribs-"
You immediately grab the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and off him with a gasp when you see what's underneath.
"Little eager aren't you doll?" Dean tries to laugh, but winces with the movement.
Black and blue marks mar the muscular skin of his abdomen and curve around the right side of his rib cage in a sickening pattern.
"Oh Dean." You whisper, heart breaking for him when you imagine how much this must have hurt.
"I'm okay baby." He says again, thumb stroking against your waist. "You just gotta be gentle with me tonight."
"You might have a broken rib or a perforated lung-"
"Y/n." Dean sighs. "I'm okay."
"This is more than a few lucky hits." You pull yourself reluctantly from his grasp and walk around him to see his back, following the black and blue trail with your gaze. "THAT’S A BOOT PRINT!"
"Don't shout-"
"What happened to being careful?" You whisper yell looking up into his eyes.
"I was. They ambushed us." He shrugs, but winces again.
"Is Sam okay? Cas?"
If Dean looks this bad what about the others?
"I got the worst of it." Dean half-smiles, but you don't like the way his lip twitches when he does.
You wonder how much pain he was in when he pinned Cooper to the fridge, how much of it he was willing to ignore because you were in danger. The thought warms your heart. He was willing to endure the pain if it meant protecting you.
“Stay here. I’m going to get you some ice-“ You turn towards the bedroom door, but Dean blocks your exit.
“You’re not going back out there.”
“You need ice.”
“Don’t care.”
“Dean-“
“I promise it doesn’t hurt that bad.” His hands find your waist again. “I missed you.” Dean says again.
"I missed you too." You can’t help but smile back moving to hug him, but you stop when he winces. “Dean-“
“I’m fine.” He leans down to kiss you but groans in pain as soon as your lips brush against his. Dean sighs, pressing his forehead against yours. “This is not how I wanted tonight to go."
“And how exactly did you want it to go?” You smirk up at him.
“Well for starters I didn’t want it to begin with that asshole trying to-“ Dean’s jaw clenches so tight together that you’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself. His eyes darken with anger, as he remembers what almost happened in the kitchen.
“Dean I’m okay.” You whisper again. "But thank you. It means more to me to know that you were hurt and yet you were still in there protecting me." Your hand traces over his chest as soft as you can without hurting him.
"I'll always protect you." Dean presses his forehead against yours. "I didn't like the way you sounded on the phone the other day and I wanted to come see you early, didn't want to leave you with him alone."
"Thank you. I'm glad you came when you did." You kiss him on the neck, because it's the only place that you can without hurting him.
Dean sighs. "I can't believe those damn vampires jumped me. I've really missed you." He puts his head on your shoulder, crumbling into you with a sigh.
You sink into the warmth that comes from his body, dragging your hands through his hair while he tightens his arms around your waist with a groan.
"Baby is it okay if we just go to bed? I know that you wanted to-" Dean trails off, mumbling into your shirt.
"Yes it's okay if we just go to bed." You laugh. "I care more about you having broken ribs or a concussion than having sex with you."
"Really? Because we could try-"
“No. I don't want to hurt you, plus I'm also kind of tired. I had a long few days." You soothe. Your hands continue to slip through his hair. "But if you're not going to let me get you some ice, please at least take some Tylenol.”
"Fine." Dean grumbles into your shoulder.
When he falls asleep, you stay up and watch the gentle way his breath moves through his chest and watch how the wear fades from his face leaving him years younger. Worry still tugs at your heart as you examine the bruises and discoloration of his face and you stop yourself from dragging a fingertip over his features for fear of hurting him. Instead, you tuck the covers up around him, settling against him. His arm tightens around your waist in his sleep, pulling you tighter against his bare chest with a sigh. And as you curl into his chest you forget the events of the night and allow yourself to be lost in feel of his heartbeat against your hand and the soft sound of Dean's breath.
Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this universe please let me know. :)
Taglist: @daisy-the-quake
#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#spnfandom#jensen ackles#supernatural fandom#dean winchester fanfiction#spn fanfiction#dean winchester fic#dean x you#supernatural fanfic series
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Rowaelin Month Day One: Long Distance Surprise @rowaelinscourt
Month Masterlist // AO3
Notes: drabbly and quick (poor edits), most of my energy went into different prompts, haha. But I wanted to write for as many as I could this year!
Warnings: none, ~1k words
.*.*.*.*.
Thinking of You
A chill clung to the air as Aelin stepped from the English Department building. It was late and cold and all she wanted to do was go home and change into her pajamas and not have any type of responsibility until next week. Unfortunately for her, she was in Grad School and taking a break didn’t exist in her routine functions. In fact, she probably wouldn't know what a break was until she was graduated with a degree in hand.
Adjusting the strap of her backpack, she took off for the other side of campus. If she kept a quick pace, she could be safe inside her apartment in under half an hour. She didn’t live too far from the school, something she’d insisted upon when moving to Adarlan. While she refused student housing, she still wanted to be close for events, classes, and her internship. Thankfully, she’d gotten all her wishes. Well, all except one.
When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she fumbled for it. She caught it on the third ring, pressing the screen to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Fireheart.” Rowan’s voice was a balm to her soul, washing over her with warmth and affection.
“Hi,” she said again, trying to fight off the emotion that burst in her chest just by hearing his voice.
“Are you back at your house yet?” Rowan asked.
He always called her around this time, knowing it was when she got out of her last workshop of the day and was leaving campus. He always said it was a coincidence but Aelin suspected he didn’t like her walking alone and in silence.
“No, just left,” she sighed. “Things ran long.”
More words threatened to spill out, but Aelin bit them back. It wasn’t worth bringing it all out now. She ducked down a path that cut between the administration offices and south parking lot. The path was lined with maple trees, their canopies hanging low with gold and yellow leaves. It would only take another sudden drop in temperature before all the leaves would fall away leaving behind bare and empty branches.
“How was your day?” she asked, hoping to push any attention away from her. “Did you get funding for your project?”
Rowan, over a thousand miles away, had accepted a prestigious job at a museum in Terrasen. With his degree in Ancient Slavic History and Languages, he was invaluable to his team. He was working towards his own master’s degree with this internship. Which meant different schools. It was remarkable what he’d been working on over the last few months. And even though she missed him more and more each day they were apart, she as insanely proud of him.
“Yeah, I did,” he said. Aelin could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re going to be able to work on a new display with access to those journals from Germany I was telling you about?”
Aelin couldn’t help her own smile as she listened to him talk about his project. It always sparked warmth in her chest to hear him talk about his passions. It was a comfort to, just hearing his voice.
They’d met on their first day of undergrad classes in a biology course. Despite their names being on opposite ends of the alphabet, they’d been partnered together through the entire semester. It had gone horribly from day one. They hadn’t gotten along, in fact, all their lab assignments ended in an argument and a threat from the TA to flunk them both. Why they weren’t separated, Aelin would never know, but she was grateful for in nonetheless.
Somehow in the chaos of it all, they’d become friends. And then more.
“Aelin?” Rowan’s gentle prodded broke her from her revere.
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said.
She made it to the main road, streetlamps bright as day. This side of campus was always well lit, even as it neared ten.
“You sure you’re alright, Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “I know the start of a new semester is hard.”
“Yeah,” she said again, “yeah, I’m fine.”
She tried to lighten her voice and stay upbeat, she didn’t want him to worry. Rowan already had enough to worry about.
“Aelin.” Rowan shifted on the other side of the phone and Aelin heard a door shut and what sounded like a beer opening. “I know you.”
Aelin blinked back the tears that started burning behind her eyes. She would not cry. She hurried through the courtyard of her apartment complex, cutting a direct line to her apartment.
“Hold on, I’m almost to my door,” she said. She really just wanted a second to collect herself, especially while on the phone with Rowan.
“Good,” Rowan said, “there should be something waiting for you.”
“What?”
His words didn’t register until she was hurrying up the stairs that led to her door. As soon as she reached the landing she found a large box waiting on her welcoming mat.
“What did you do?” she asked. She unlocked her door, pushing it open so she could toss her bag in. “Hang on, I need two hands.”
After dropping her phone on the couch, she returned back outside to grab the box. She carried it to the kitchen before returning for her phone.
“Buzzard, what did you do?” Aelin pressed again. She put the call on speaker so she could open the box a little less chaotically with a pair of scissors.
“I thought you could use a pick-me-up,” Rowan said.
The box wasn’t a simple little thing either. Aelin started pulling things out—fuzzy socks, candles, bath salts, and chocolate. So much chocolate. In fact, most of the box was chocolate.
This time, Aelin couldn’t hold back the tears. Hot tracks rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the items now laid out across her counter. It had been ages since anyone had done something like this for her since she’d felt loved.
“Ro—” she began.
“I wanted to come down myself but we got the approval—”
“Rowan,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she lifted the phone closer to her mouth. “I know.”
She sniffed, wiping her nose on the collar of her shirt. Dealing with emotions had never been her strong suit. It had taken nearly a year to tell Rowan she loved him for hells sake.
“I know you won’t listen, but try not to eat all that chocolate tonight, yeah?” he said.
“Ha-ha,” Aelin mocked. She rolled her eyes and cracked open the hazelnut truffles. “I make no promises.”
Rowan let out a laugh. “Hmm. You going to tell me how your day really went?”
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
And it didn’t. because now at least, she could talk to him. She could listen to him ramble on about whatever new quirk he’d learned in his studies. She could listen to his steady breathing. She could simply spend a few minutes with him.
It wasn’t until she was drifting off to sleep with the phone tucked between her ear and her pillow that they finally disconnected, Aelin whispering a soft I love you and Rowan promising to see her soon.
She hated this routine of theirs but soon…soon they’d be reunited.
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Amazing // Choi Seungcheol
Summary: Seungcheol doesn’t understand why she won’t let him take care of her when it’s all he wants to do. He has no idea how she found out about what he’s been doing every month for the past six months but he’s sure he can get her to agree with his logic.
Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol x OC!Solana, kinda one-sided situationship, a tiny bit suggestive,Seungcheol on his glucose guardian agenda, curve/plus-sized, foreigner!oc, Seungcheol calls her Sol, princess. I think that’s about it, let me know if I missed anything.
A/N: This is part of an idolverse series that’ll be posted in non-chronological order. I’m not sure how many parts members will have but there might be instances of crossovers.Mingyu, Seungcheol and Minghao are the only ones that I have anything written/plotted for. I’m not promising frequent updates because I’m currently on an intensive training program before starting grad school but I have some free time starting Thursday so I’ll try to work on pieces during that time. I only just got back into posting my work in the kpop community after a break from it but I do enjoy anime as well so you may come across it on my dashboard. Lastly, I am absolute trash when it comes to titles and summaries so please bare with me in advance.
Solana and Seungcheol rarely argued and if they did, it was usually about the same thing; Seungcheol spending his money on her like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do. And in his mind, it was. Seungcheol understood that she was more than capable of providing for and taking care of herself but he felt as though she shouldn’t have to with him around.
They’d met before he’d even acquired the amount of money he had today so he knew for a fact that it wasn’t why she was with him which is exactly why he spent it on her. Seungcheol in most instances believed that actions spoke louder than words and if he felt like buying his girlfriend’s entire shopping cart on her favorite jewelry site than that’s exactly what he’s going to do.
Usually Sol wouldn’t say anything because no matter how much she told him not to, he’d find a way to justify his actions and just do it once again. This time however, she refused to let him.
“Yah!! Choi Seungcheol!” She exclaimed as she entered her apartment. His head pops out from the kitchen where he’d been peeling tangerines when he hears her.
“What’d I do?” She only ever called him by his government name when she angry or irritated with him.
“Y’know what you did! I thought we agreed that you’d ease up on excessive amounts of spending that you do on me?”
“We did, I haven’t spent excessively on you since the last time you gave me an earful for buying everything in your cart from The Jade Jewelers. What’s this about?” He asks tangerines forgotten as he follows her to the living room area, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at her rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small pile of paper.
“You’re really going to play dumb with me right now? You haven’t been spending excessively? Then explain this.” She spits out pressing the printed sheets to his chest.
Seungcheol takes the papers from her hand, looking them over before ‘shit’ is whispered from his lips. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this.”
“Well, no shit Seungcheol. Explain yourself.” She snaps as she sits on the couch with her arms crossed and looking directly at him.
“How’d you find out?”
“That’s not important. I’ve been living here for six months and you’ve been paying my rent this entire time after I told you I didn’t like you spending excessively on me especially when it came to things that I’m capable of handling on my own.”
“I know you’re capable, I do, but just because you can do all these things for yourself doesn’t mean that you have to. I’m here and I’m willing, wanting to do these things for you but you won’t let me.Why can’t I do nice things for you?”
Because it makes this feel like it’s more than what it is. It’s what she wants to tell him because as much as Seungcheol acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal, it was to her. She’d constantly have to remind herself that they weren’t in a relationship. They hooked up whenever he had free time and him paying for her KTX ticket and accommodation in Seoul was as much as she said she’d allow him but Choi Seungcheol had a way of getting whatever he wanted.
“It’s not that you can’t do nice things for me, it’s just that you have a habit of behaving like a damn glucose guardian when it comes to expenses.”
“Okay, and? If I want to behave like your sugar daddy and pay and do everything for you then you should just let me. Think about it,” he says dropping in the space next to her wasting no time in pulling her onto his lap.
“I cover all your basic expenses and necessities and all you have to do is sit pretty and get that degree. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”
“No. Now either fix it or I’m transferring the money to your account.”
“I’ll send it right back. Play with me if you want to.” He smirks at her.
“God, you’re so infuriating.” She huffs getting off his lap and moving down the hall to her bedroom.”
“Yahhhh, we weren’t finished yet.” She can hear him pouting as he follows behind her.
“Yes, we are because you’re going to do it again regardless of what I say right now.” She responses slipping off her jacket.
“Sollllllll, are you really that upset about it?” When she doesn’t reply, he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. “If I compromise with you, will you stop being upset with me and go back to calling me Cheol?”
“Does that compromise include you not paying all my bills?” She replies sarcastically.
“Watch it, princess. Don’t want that mouth getting you in trouble don’t you? I’ve already let you slide with the sass, don’t push it.” He speaks into her ear before lightly nipping at her neck.
“I’ll let you pay your phone bill and groceries but that’s it. Despite what you say I know you only moved out from the dorms this early because of me and to allow us more privacy. The least I can do is cover your rent and utilities, I can’t help it because that’s just who I am and you know this. Now, forgive me please?”
Seungcheol asks spinning her around in his arms. She was just about an inch or two shorter than him so he didn’t have to do much to look her in the eyes. “I don’t want you mad at me on my last night before I leave.”
“Forgive me,” there’s a peck to her cheek followed by another until Seungcheol has pressed kisses all over her face and has her a giggling mess.
“Fine, fine,Cheolll.” She laughs trying to escape him but he’s not having it.
“I can’t hear you princess, what was that?” He teases as he grasps her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“I forgive you,”
“And?” he encourages though he already knows that he’s gotten his way once again.
“I’ll let you take care of me even if it means putting my pride and independent nature aside and letting you pay my rent.” she sighs dramatically.
She’d never admit it but seeing Seungcheol be domestic had a tendency to do things to her. Things he’d never let her hear the end of if he knew. She’d seen a lot of different sides to Choi Seungcheol in the two years since they started all this but domesticated Seungcheol was her second favorite.
“Y’know what’s amazing?” He asks and she’s so busy staring at him that she misses the teasing lithe in his voice.
“Hmmm?” Her hands are draped over his shoulders, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands around her waist resting on the curve of her ass as he leans in closer to her ear.
“We both know that I have no problem getting your pussy wet but when are you finally going to admit that me being all domesticated and taking care of you gets you all hot and bothered the same way it does to me? Hmmm?”
The way her breath hitches is enough to let him know that he’s right but he doesn’t act on it.
“C’mon, I cut fruit and we have new episodes to finish.” He says kissing her cheek as he leaves her standing in the bedroom like he didn’t just read her for filth. It takes a few seconds for her to recover but once she does she’s following behind him.
“Yah! Choi Seungcheol!”
#svt x oc#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt smut#svt#svt seungcheol#scoups smut#scoups#choi seungcheol#seungcheol smut#seventeen seungcheol#seventeen scoups#seventeen scenarios#seventeen#svt cheol#seventeen smut#seventeen x oc#Choi Seungcheol x OC
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The Ifs and Buts of a Relationship
"Jinnie~"
"Yeah?" I answered, typing as quickly as I could.
"Are you using the time I'm taking to take a shower to secretly work?"
I immediately stepped away from my laptop and closed the lid of it. How did she know? "No," I said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
Even through the closed door and the sound running water, I heard her sigh. Then, the shower stopped.
Calculating that I had about seven more minutes, I reached out to open up my laptop again.
"You better not be opening your laptop again!"
I drew my hand away as if the laptop were a steaming hot stove. Seriously, did she have a hidden camera somewhere?
So I patiently waited for her, and after the seven minutes I predicted, she finally did. And when she did, my mouth dropped.
Jessica was the princess of simple clothing. She never wore anything extravagant, and she always looked beautiful. So when she came out wearing an extravagant dress, I was not only surprised, but overwhelmed at how the cute princess I knew could be so beautiful. She was donning a sleeveless blue dress, a frilly layer of what looked like silk hovering over the first layer; that same layer started to jut out just enough so it would hover over the next layer, and so on all the way to her hips, each layer being about half a foot long, where the dress flattened out and followed her legs all the way down to her feet, a small slit running down each side, showing off her legs. She was also wearing matching blue heels, something else she almost never wore because of how uncomfortable they were.
She smiled brightly at me. "Ok Jinnie, let's go~"
Snapping out of whatever trance I was in, I smiled back and nodded, suddenly subconscious of my simple yellow Hollister T-shirt that had the words "SURF" in big, white capital letters, taking up the majority of the shirt, and my white skinny-pants/jeans.
I grabbed my jacket on the way out, just in case we came back late and it became chilly.
"Where are we going?" I asked curiously as we stepped in the elevator.
"I can't tell you~" she sang, sticking her tongue out at me.
I frowned. "Why not?"
She giggled and poked my cheek. "Being cute isn't going to prompt the answer out of me," she informed, eyes sparkling with laughter.
I couldn't help but smile; once Jessica started to laugh, it was contagious. "It’s not anywhere formal, right?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the elevator's ding!, so she shook her head instead.
As soon as we stepped out of the elevator, she put my left arm over her bare shoulder and tightly hugged me. "This way!" she said, directing me to the right as soon as we stepped out of the building.
I was used to Jessica's clingy-ness. She was usually like this towards me, since we had known each other for about 20 years, and managed to stick together for the duration of elementary, middle, and high school, as well as college. We were also supposed to go to university together, but something came with her family, so Jessi couldn't attend grad school; so now, she was my assistant. Which was fine, except for in the mornings.
Jessica was by no means a morning person; in fact, she was more like an afternoon person. She didn't like to get up past 11:00 if she could help it; and the days where we didn't have much work to do, she would sleep in. Unfortunately, that meant she clung onto me until she wanted to wake up; and since waking her up was a bad idea, since one, her grip was as strong as steel, and two, if I did try to get out of her grip, she would continually hit me on the head until I stopped resisting.
But because of how close we are, most mistook us for a couple; and although I love Jessica, it wasn't necessarily in the romantic way. We had dated in high school, but broke up two years later as we both realized being friends was good enough for both of us.
"Jinnie, it's cold," Jessi whined, hugging me more tightly.
I sighed. "Aish, that's what you get for wearing that dress in the fall," I told her, knocking her on the head lightly.
"Owh," she whined, rubbing her head.
"I didn't even hit you hard," I said, taking the jacket I got and draping it over her shoulders.
"Thank you~" she sang, snuggling closer to me. After walking for a few more minutes, Jessi stopped us at a very large and very grand building. A little bit outside the building was a red carpet, the words "Chef Kim's Sushi" etched on it in gold letters in the middle. Above it hung a matching red, small silk roof of sorts. The carpet fed into a gilded revolving door, accompanied with a pair of doors, one on each side. "Here we are!" she said excitedly, leading me to the revolving doors.
I became even more self-conscious about my clothes. "And you said we weren't going anywhere formal," I accused her as we stepped into a section of the revolving doors, following it until we reached the inside of the building.
"Well, you don't have to be dressed. I already reserved a table, so its ok," she said, directing me towards the desk, past the humongous line of people sitting on the side, waiting for a table.
"Hello, do you have a reservation?" the waitress asked politely. She was wearing a very professional looking black and red suit, the restaurant's logo on the top right of her shirt, standing right behind a computer
"Yep! Under the name of Jessica Jung," she told her brightly.
After a few clicks, she looked back up. "Right this way please," she said, stepping out of the desk and leading us to our table.
The place was packed. Every table was filled with laughing people, joyously talking to one another and occasionally picking up a piece of sushi and popping it into their mouths.
"Here's your table," our waitress said, pointing us to a booth facing the window. The booth was as fancy as the restaurant: the table was made of blade marble, propped up by thick wooden legs spaced out enough to give customers leg space, and the seats were made of a red velvety material, the edges decorated with yellow knots, tying the material to a dark brown mahogany frame.
We both thanked her and sat down, Jessica taking a seat next to me. The waitress hesitated at first, probably shocked that Jessica didn't take the seat opposite me. When Jessica noticed this, she smiled at her. "I had preordered some dishes, so the menus aren't necessary," she said, motioning towards the large, rectangular black menus the waitress was holding.
"Of course," she said apologetically. "Your sushi will be here shortly."
"Thank you~" Jessi said, resting her head on my shoulder. The waitress bowed and walked away.
Already, I was noticing the stares we were receiving. I was used to it though; basically whenever we went to anywhere public, people looked at us because of how clingy Jessica tended to be. I, personally, didn't mind because she somehow manages to be warm all the time. Even when she claims she's cold, her hugs tell me otherwise; even in the winter one time, when she was wearing nothing but a T-shirt, a thin windbreaker, and skinny jeans, she was still warm. Really, it was pretty amazing.
Jessi began to pour the soy sauce into our little sauce-platters, mixing a bit of wasabi into mine, as she knew I liked spicy things. "So how was Tiffany?"
I sighed. About four months ago, Jessica decided that she wanted to play matchmaker with her friends and me. "She was nice and all, but I didn't really feel anything," I told her.
"Aww; Tiffany said that she already fell for you," Jessi told me, voice sad with empathy for Tiffany.
"Oh, really?" I asked, not being the best person to catch on to this sort of stuff.
"Yeah," she replied sadly. I immediately felt bad; Tiffany had a lot of desirable characteristics: looks, easy to talk to, an exceptionally beautiful smile, selflessness, among others. But still, I didn't feel anything special with her.
She sighed. "Well, I ran out of friends to hook you up with," she told me, causing me to let out a sigh of relief. I, personally, didn't want to go to these blind dates, as I didn't really have time for them, but Jessi insisted. And one did not simply reject her wishes.
"So you offered yourself as my blind date?" I joked.
"Well, no; it’s just bad that for you to overwork yourself," she told me.
"I haven't been overworking," I whined. She giggled at this.
"Well, let's see. For the past month, you have been bringing your laptop to bed just so you could work while in bed, and even so, you wouldn't stop working until 1:00 AM each day, stopping hourly for five minute breaks and for meals. Yep, you aren't overworking."
I pouted. "Well you can't blame me; I'm so close to discovering--"
She put a finger to my lips. "Shh, no talking about work. Just enjoy your time free from work," she told me. I sighed and agreed, reluctantly.
Just then, our waitress arrived, pushing a cart full of sushi. I looked at it with big eyes, wondering if Jessi really ordered all that sushi.
I was answered when the waitress put only three plates on our table, the whole top shelf. "Thank you~" Jessi thanked her. She smiled and walked away, continuing to push her tray. Once she was gone, Jessi giggled. "I saw your expression. Did you honestly think all that sushi was for us?"
I smiled wearily. "Yeah," I admitted, causing her to giggle again. I smiled as well, realizing how stupid that was. I picked up my chopsticks and reached for the nearest platter, picking put a piece of sushi and dipping it in my sauce. Just as I opened my mouth to put the piece of sushi in my mouth, I felt another one being pushed in.
Surprised, I put my sushi down, and then realized what happened. I looked at Jessi accusingly, who only smiled in reply. I pouted, causing her to giggle. "You're welcome~" she said, still giggling. I finished the sushi off and opened my mouth to speak again, but just as fast as last time, Jessi put another piece in my mouth, accidently brushing her fingers on my tongue.
As a kind of punishment for doing this again, I licked her fingers. Don't ask me why I thought that was a punishment, because I had no idea; but my brain told me to do it, so I did. But this only caused Jessi to giggle as she pulled her fingers away. "Yah, cannibal," she said, wiping off her fingers, continuing to giggle.
After I finished the piece of sushi in my mouth, I stuck out my tongue at her. "That's what you get fo--" but was interrupted as Jessi put another piece in my mouth.
I whined, causing her giggle to intensify.
An idea popped in mind. I tried to swallow as stealthily as possible, which turned out to be pointless as Jessi was feeding herself now. I still pretended to chew though, judging how quickly I could get another piece in my mouth.
At that time, she looked at me; I quickly pointed at my mouth, motioning that I was still eating.
Disbelieving me, she stared at me, studying my features from a few inches away from me. I smiled and continued to chew.
What she did next surprised me. In a flash, she closed the distance and gently connected our lips, causing me to try to scoot back, but was blocked by her hand. I stared at her closed eyes in shock: Was she actually kissing me-- but my thoughts were interrupted when I felt something wet move against my lips. Instinctively, I opened my mouth to say something, but she took the opportunity to plunge her tongue into my mouth.
After moving her tongue around my mouth a little, and me trying to force her tongue away, she backed off and withdrew. "You weren't still eating," she pouted.
"You--" I started, but decided to drop it. We hadn't shared a kiss ever since we broke up. And that one time where she rolled on top of me in the middle of the night a couple months back. "Well, I--" before I could realize the mistake of opening my mouth again, Jessi put another piece in my mouth.
I sighed in defeat, causing Jessi to clap happily, much like a child who opened up her Christmas present and sees that she got what she wanted, would.
After swallowing that piece, she held up another one. I quickly shook my head. "Come on, one more," she begged, using her puppy eyes.
After knowing her for 20 years, you'd expect me to build a resistance to it. But the thing is, its irresistible; there was probably nothing in the world cuter than Jessi's puppy eyes, and her sad aegyo.
Well, it’s just sushi. She's trying to feed you, there's nothing wrong with that, I tried to reason, but ended up shaking my head. "I can feed myself," I said, opening my mouth as little as possible. She frowned. Damn it. "Fine," I complied, opening my mouth.
Giggling cutely, she popped the piece in my mouth.
She rested her head on my shoulder again. "I should feed you more often," she commented.
"No, really, I'm fine without it," I said worriedly. I didn't want to live the rest of my life babied by her.
"Aww, why not?"
"I just--"
I was cut off by the waitress. "And here is the strawberry smoothie you ordered," she said, handing us the cup and two straws.
"Oh, you can take back one," Jessi informed her, bowing her head in thanks as she received the smoothie and the straw.
She smiled and nodded, putting the extra straw in the pocket knitted into the uniform. "You two make a cute couple, by the way," she added.
"Thanks!" Jessi said brightly before I could tell her that we weren't a couple.
When she walked off, Jessi began drinking the smoothie. "That's good~" she commented, smiling happily.
"Why did you tell her that we were a couple?"
She looked at me, confused. Which still managed to be cute. "No, I didn't."
I was about to point out what she said, but then realized that she actually didn't. I sighed, but had a smile on my face. "Smart aleck."
She only smiled happily and continued sipping the smoothie.
I watched her. She always had a thing for pink. She wasn't quite as obsessed as I gathered Tiffany was, but she certainly liked the color a lot; a lot of her clothes where pink, the wallpaper in her room was pink, the cover to her bed and her blanket was pink (which she never used, which is why my blanket is pink. She managed to convince me to change the color. You have no idea how persuasive she can be), and every time she could help it, the drink she ordered was pink. Her obsession with pink was quite cute, actually.
"Oh, did you want some?" Jessi asked, putting the cup in my hands. I realized I was still staring at her drink. I had the tendency to stare at something when I was thinking. It was a habit, if you would call it that.
"Oh, no, I'm fine," I told her, pushing the drink back in her hands.
"You should drink some though. It's really good," she told me.
I shook my head. "I'm not thirsty right now," I told her, picking up another piece of sushi.
She began to poke my lips with the straw. "Come on, you know you want it~" she sang.
I grinned. "Ok, fine," I complied yet again, opening my mouth and taking a sip. Wow. Really, it was good. Well, I guess it was to be expected, as this was a 5-star restaurant. Still ... this might be the most delicious smoothie I have ever tasted, or will ever taste.
I managed to finish about a quarter of it in one gulp, and only stopped because I realized the amount I was drinking. "See, I told you it's good," she said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah yeah," I said, popping the sushi in my mouth. Just as I was about to reach for another, Jessi put one in my hand.
"Feed me?"
I looked at her. "You're 27 already," I reminded her, although her personality often let others astray. Which once caused an awkward situation of someone accusing me of being a pedo.
"So?" she asked, frowning. "I fed you five times," she pointed out.
"Well, you forced--" but I stopped when she reached for another piece. Noticing that I stopped talking, she looked back at me and smile innocently.
"Please?"
"But--" I was cut short as she rested her forehead on mine. "Jessi, what are you doing?"
She ignored me and looked into my eyes, not blinking, while slowly moving her lips towards mine.
I started to back away, but this only caused her to cover that space. This continued until my back hit the wall.
"Um, Jessi?"
Jessi, noticing this, grinned. I instantly became nervous; Jessi almost never grinned. "Please, oppa?" she asked once again, pouring so much aegyo into those words I wanted to melt right there and hold her and never let go.
Giving in, I nodded. "Yay!" she scooted back and opened her mouth cutely, closing her eyes.
I smiled and put a roll in her mouth. She was sorta acting weird today ... weirder than usual. And more ... clingy?
Before I could fully take my fingers out, her mouth closed, wrapping my fingers, for a second, with her lips.
"Mm, tastes good~" she said, smiling with content. I reached for a piece for myself. "Although the sushi could have used a bit more sauce..."
I automatically nodded in agreement, taking my own sushi out of my platter and popping it into my mouth. Then I realized what she said.
I almost choked on my sushi, but still managed to swallow it before looking at her, who was wearing a bright smile with a matching pair of equally bright eyes. "Cannibal," I accused her this time. She only stuck her tongue out at me, followed by making a biting motion towards my fingers.
I smiled. When was she ever going to grow up?
"One more," Jessi told me, putting another piece in my hand. She interrupted me before I could protest, "Please, oppa?" she frowned and used her puppy eyes, once again.
And once again, I gave in and nodded, making sure the sushi was soaked in the sauce long enough before plopping it right in her waiting mouth. I even managed to get my fingers out before she closed her mouth.
"Mm, but that didn't taste as good," she said after she finished chewing.
"Oh well," I said, putting another roll of sushi in my sauce platter.
"Where are we going now?"
"It wouldn't be fun if I told you right away."
I started to become nervous. What could that mean? What harm could there be if she told me? Was it some sort of surprise?
When we got close, she insisted on blindfolding me. And it’s not that I didn't trust her, it's just that ... well, let's just say Jessi isn't the steadiest of all people. Even the smallest of rocks could trip her.
Luckily, somehow, during my blindfolded walk there, we managed to not fall, especially considering that Jessi was wearing heels. "Here we are!" she said, stopping momentarily.
"Here we are where?" I asked, reaching up to pull off my blindfold.
"Ah ah ah, not so fast," she told me, trapping my hands once again with her's. I sighed in defeat and continued to walk with her.
After a few more steps, an exchange between Jessi and someone, an elevator ride, and a few more steps, she lead me into a room. I could tell because the room, unlike the cold, air-conditioned hallways, had a different, slightly warmer atmosphere from the room.
"Ok, here we are," she said, reaching for my blindfold and taking it off.
There wasn't much adjusting to light, as the room was already pretty dark. But still, the light that was there caught my eyes off guard. But before they could readjust, I was greeted by a blast of voices. "Happy Birthday!"
Wait, today's my birthday? I thought, checking my mental calendar. Oh yeah. I had reminded myself yesterday with an email, but totally forgot today I recalled.
I rubbed my neck. "Thanks guys," I said, looking around the room. They were my grad school friends; the group I managed to insert myself in, and fit in with, during my lonely, Jessica-less days of grad school.
Jessica laughed. "I still can't believe you forgot about your birthday," she said, knocking my head lightly.
I laughed with her. "Yeah. I guess I was too caught up in my work," I said. Then, I looked at the room and realized: we were in a karaoke room.
"Well enough chatter, lets sing!"
After many songs and many drinks later, we had all decided to head back. By that time, it was 1:30AM, and Jessica drank so much that she passed out.
After saying goodbye to everyone, I tried to wake Jessica up. "Jessi, we have to leave now," I prompted her, shaking her lightly. She didn't budge though. "Jessi, c'mon," I continued. No use.
I guess I'll carry her home then I told myself, kneeling to pick her up. I never had to deal with a drunken Jessica, since she insisted, even at dinners with investors, that she didn't drink. So I was quite shocked when she had downed a whole bottle of wine (not in one gulp, thank god); she never drank, as far as I knew, so her being able to drink that much surprised me. Of course, I was more resistant, which was why I was still conscious.
Right as I picked her up, I realized something: the door would be hard to open with my hands full. So I set her back down and went to open the door. I couldn't though; it was locked.
"What in the--" I murmured and tried again. Then, I noticed a small piece of paper that was slid under the small crack under the door. I picked it up. It read:
'Hello, Mr. Han. Ms. Jung told me to slip this under the door, just in case she was unconscious and couldn't explain. Ms. Jung has already purchased the room you are currently in for the night; you will find the bed at the door behind the screen of the TV. The screen is attached to a piece of the wall that can be swung out. Hope you have a nice stay! -Karaoke Inn-'
I placed the note back down and walked towards the screen wearily. Did it honestly swing open, like those trap doors in the Scooby Doo movies?
And, sure enough, it did. I was too tired to gasp in awe, so I just carried Jessi to the bed. On my way there, I noticed a clean set of pajamas, so I laid her on the bed and grabbed the pajamas. Remembering how she was complaining how uncomfortable the dress was, I stripped it off and replaced it with the pajamas.
Right as I finished putting her pants on, she woke up. "Jinnie?"
I looked up at her. "Yeah?"
She looked at me and smiled before crawling under the covers and resting her head back on the pillow.
I changed, putting on just the pajama pants and stripping off my shirt before moving to the couch, using our clothes as a blanket. Just as I got comfortable, Jessi's voice broke the silence. "Jinnie, where are you?"
"Right here," I replied.
"Why aren't you sleeping with me?"
"Well, I--"
"Come here, Jinnie~"
I followed her orders, carefully setting the clothes on the couch before slipping under the covers and joining her.
Once she noticed I joined her, she smiled and wrapped her arms around me, resting her head in the crook of my neck. "Good night, Jinnie~"
I patted her silky hair. "Good night to you too," I told her, wrapping my arms around her warm body, sleep overtaking my consciousness.
Continuation of this can be found here.
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whoa...part 3 of modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader, and it's 18+? who is she. anyways part 1 here, part 2 here
warnings: mdni, oral (f&m receiving), p in v (unprotected), blood mentions (minor), religious imagery (minor)
The summer between junior and senior year comes and goes, as does the first semester of your last year in college. It's filled with internships and grad school applications, but you're still going strong with Coriolanus. You get through the most unguarded you've ever seen him – the weeks leading up to the release of LSAT scores. You're actually unaware that it's coming up because he's been so private about the whole process until you get into a screaming match in the Snow apartment with him about something you can't even remember now. When you threaten to leave if he can't be polite, he breaks down crying – something you didn't even know he was capable of. He apologizes and explains himself, and though you suspect his tears aren't genuine, you catch him in a hug and hold him on the couch until he falls asleep.
A week letter, his score comes in the mail: a perfect 180. The celebration is quiet – just you, his family, and his boss, who Coriolanus is closer with than you knew. He's an interesting man – his name is Strabo Plinth, and you learn that he's the CEO of a company that manufactures weapons for the government. You want to tell your boyfriend that such a job may not play well on his resumé at the polls, if that's where he wants to end up, but it's not your place and you're sure he's thought about that.
All in all, by the time the spring semester rolls around, your futures are beginning to take shape. You both get into your dream schools, him for law and you for intelligence analysis. When that letter comes in, Coriolanus teases you up and down about being the stereotypical academic recruit into the CIA, but you care more to understand these agencies than work for them. You won't attend school together anymore, but it's not more than an hour by train to visit, and there's been no indication of the end of your relationship nearing. In fact, when your parents come down for parents’ weekend, Coriolanus spends about forty minutes talking to your father away from you and your mother, and when they rejoin the group, your father claps you on the shoulder and tells you that you found a good man.
There's a brief, blissful period at the end of the year before graduation when everything's been turned in and you can just enjoy the sunshine and new warmth. One of these days finds you and Coriolanus lounging on the quad on a blanket. Your head is in his lap as he plays with your hair, working his fingers through the small tangles that the early May breeze has created. It is quiet, and you are bored.
“Oh, Coriolanus,” you say, opening your eyes to lock on his. The midday light turns them almost white, like his eponymous snow. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull a face.
“Yes, darling?” A nickname he's picked up in the last month or so. It made you laugh in shock the first time he said it, but now it feels lush.
“I got an email from the dean the other day. I made valedictorian,” you say with a toothy, cruel grin.
You're hoping for a reaction, maybe a flash of anger. It dances across his features for the barest fraction of a second, enough to work a little adrenaline through your body, and then you get a neat smile and a cock of his head.
“Congratulations.”
“You're not mad?”
“Why would I be? You've worked hard, you deserve it. I'm not going to get upset over a silly title.”
You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What do you mean, silly?”
Coriolanus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean that I decided it wasn’t important to me anymore, now that I’ve gotten into law school. I thought you had gotten over it too, but since it’s important, congratulations.”
He’s deflecting, obviously, and you tell him as much.
The corners of his mouth quirk up and he shrugs. “Okay.”
“No, you are! What, did you get salutatorian? Since when are you fine with second place?”
“Since first place wouldn’t have gotten me anything, darling. You’re ruining this for yourself, okay? I’m glad you got what you wanted.”
You’re left with nothing to say, searching his face for any mark of that brief rage from earlier before flumping back into his lap. He laughs.
“I’m sorry, baby. You don’t need to pout. I would’ve said something else if I had known it was going to upset you like this.”
“I’m not upset.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I’m not,” you say, giving him a gracious smile, having found a new mate-in-one. “Whether or not you wanted the title anymore, we’ll always know who’s smarter.”
Your face says teasing – your tone has teeth. Coriolanus’ eyes narrow.
“That’s not what this means.”
“It’s what it means to me. And you clearly don’t care about that, so it should be no problem if that’s how I’m taking it.”
And ooh, you know it’s petty. You know this is possibly the most childish conversation you’ve had with anyone in years. But he doesn’t reply, opting instead to settle back on his hands and stare across the quad. There’s a mean tension in the air now, blooming hot, fizzy pride in your sternum. It’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe through it until it’s just another triumph.
Graduation goes as smoothly as anything run by the school can – which is to say, too long and a bureaucratic clusterfuck – but you give your speech and get your diploma and take about forty pictures of Coriolanus onstage, and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this chapter of your life. After seemingly endless festivities and photoshoots with various family members, you’re dropped back at your apartment. There is no work to be done, for once: nothing to write or study, and your lease doesn’t end for another month, so nothing to pack. For the first time in your memory, you are truly idle, and you’re learning that it is not a feeling you enjoy. You pick up your phone and call your boyfriend.
“Hi, darling,” he says when he picks up. His voice is brighter than usual, a sure sign that he’s been drinking. “Did you get home okay?”
“Mhm. Did you?”
“Just laying in bed now.”
“Oh.” You try to keep yourself from sounding too disappointed, but from the huff of laughter on the other end of the call, you know he’s picked up on it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, but if you’re in bed, then nevermind.”
“Come over, like–”
“If you want.” You have yet to go this far with him, but tonight seems like as good a night as any.
“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right over.”
The line goes dead, and you have to laugh. For all his airs and poise, he is still just a man.
The benefit of today being important is that you’re already pretty done-up: your makeup is still perfect, though your lipstick gets a reapplication, your hair looks good, and you have matching, nicer undergarments on. Honestly, you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do for this, not with him, and the confidence you had calling Coriolanus is fading fast.
Unfortunately, it’s too late to be having those thoughts, because within twenty minutes, he’s knocking on your door. You let him in. He's still in his button-down, tie, and slacks from graduation, though he's shed his suit jacket. He leans down to catch you in a quick kiss. You wrap a hand around the Windsor knot in his tie, though whether it's to steady yourself or pull him closer is a mystery even to you. Not like it makes a difference; it elicits an electric, low groan from him anyways, his mouth opening over yours and deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne, sweet and shimmery and young. It is a contrast to the way he grabs your waist with a heavy hand and presses his tongue in to fight yours, which feels like whiskey; all heady, stinging heat. You have not had anything to drink: you are starting to wish you had.
When he pulls away to catch his breath, his lips are swollen and slick and stained with your blood-red lipstick and finally, finally, something alights in your chest and in your stomach and even lower, a ball of fire sitting in the cradle of your pelvis. You release his tie and drag a manicured thumbnail under the line of his bottom lip, smudging away the rouge you left there.
“Pretty,” you murmur, though you're not sure where that comes from. He is pretty, though, especially like this; undone and imperfect and desperate (you can tell as much by the way he's pressing into your hip), all for you.
A growl releases from Coriolanus' throat and his hand goes to the belt of your dress, deftly undoing the buckle. He is desperate, but desperate for you to know that you haven't made him weak. You can only have from him what he is willing to give, he will take from you anything he wants. Or, at least, that's how he thinks as he starts dragging the zipper of your dress down, crowding you against your apartment wall.
“I have a bed, Coriolanus,” you protest weakly, the complaint dying on your lips as his latch onto your pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over the tendon in your neck, and you recall how he smiled at you when you were first dating, like he wanted to eat you. You realize he could now, if he tried, open his maw wide and sink sharp canines into the side of your throat, pierce the carotid artery and stain perfect teeth red with blood. Tipping your head back against the wall, you shiver and give him better access.
“Let’s go, then,” he murmurs, not stopping his ministrations on your collarbone, where he's working a bruise into the hollow between your clavicle and the muscle of your shoulder.
You shove his head back gently and lead him to your room, which is tidy save for your desk, which is still scattered with papers from exams. Coriolanus doesn't seem to care, just crowding you back towards your hospital-cornered bed. Once you're down, he's crawling over you and returning to suck marks down your shoulders and chest as he tugs your dress off your body. When he gets to your bra (a small, silk thing, meant to lay smooth under the dress you wore today), he just stares for a moment, tracing a finger over the fine fabric. Just as you're about to tell him to do something, Jesus Christ, he latches his lips over your nipple and mouths at it through the cloth, sending sparks down your spine and a wavering moan up your esophagus. When he switches to the other side, the wet patch is exposed to the air and the sudden chill is almost more electric than the warmth of his tongue. You wonder if he could push you over the edge with just this; it certainly feels like he could. Then he shoves a hand under your back to release the clasp and tear your bra off, and the two seconds his mouth is off your skin gives just enough reprieve that when he returns and bites down, the rush of pleasure drops straight to your core with an ache that has your hips canting up. This inspires a breathy, warm chuckle from Coriolanus.
“Impatient,” he teases.
You swallow hard. “It's not my fault you're…”
“Good at this?” He says, dipping his hand between your legs and dancing his fingers over the gusset of your panties, eliciting a whimper and an honest nod from you.
“You don't know the half of it, darling,” and he hooks his arms under your knees to drag your hips forward until they're nearly off the bed. He's knelt between your legs like he's taking the Eucharist, ready to devour the blood and body of all that is holy. You watch his blonde head through fluttering lashes as he licks a line up the inside of your thigh before biting down right where it meets your hip. He breaks the skin, soothes the little wound with his tongue as he works your underwear down your legs. The way he stares at you – all of you – while he's still fully clothed, no mark of the past half-hour except his loosened tie and lipstick-marked mouth, makes you squirm. He braces your hips down with a strong forearm and looks up at you with a hunger in his icy eyes that is yet unfamiliar to you.
“Pretty,” he whispers like the beginning of a prayer, echoing your earlier utterance, and collects your wetness on his index finger as he runs it through your folds.
The foreign feeling makes you whine. Coriolanus’ tongue flicks out over his lips like a snake before he dives into your cunt like a man starved. When your hand shoots down and grabs his hair, the groan that he lets out against you has you jerking like you've been electrocuted. He only grabs the fat of your hips harder, the pads of his fingers pressing in so hard that you're sure you'll have little dotted bruises there in the morning. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he works you to orgasm, your body trembling and your breath stilted as you teeter on that peak. His eyes flash and one hand releases you. Before you can ask what he's doing, he plunges two fingers into you and curls them up right as he sucks your clit hard, and that pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion combined with his mouth has white-hot flames engulfing your body as stars explode in your vision and your legs very nearly go numb. His tongue and fingers don't stop until you're coming down and pleading with him in a broken voice, an orison to the congregant turned deity drunk on newfound power. He acquiesces, though, crawling up your body to kiss you and lick the taste of your pleasure into your mouth. Underneath it, there's the bitter, sanguine taste from his bite to your thigh, a reminder of the vulnerability necessary for that blessing.
Legs still shaking, head still a little fuzzy, you use his determination to kiss you breathless to flip the narrative so you're straddling his hips, his growing need heavy and hard against you through the fabric of his dress pants. One eyebrow twitches up as he grins, though it wavers when you shift on him.
“My turn?” He asks as he smooths his hands down your thighs, and you know he can feel the way your muscles twitch and jump under your skin.
“Your turn,” you reply, and shift so you can undo his belt.
The metal of the buckle is cold in your hands, your skin still feeling a little like it's been set aflame, but you get it off and shove your hand into his boxers, unceremoniously pulling out his cock. He lets out a choked groan at the speed, and you think his eyes roll back in his head when you slide down his body. You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, having never done this before (or even really thought about it) before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The moan he lets out is primal, raw, and you are determined to get another from him as you hollow your cheeks and sink down further, minding your teeth enough to let them just graze the shaft. He shudders and jerks upward, hitting the back of your throat, and though it makes you gag, there's a certain pride in knowing you're breaking his composure, so you hold him there for a moment until he whimpers and slides a hand into your hair and you know you've taken the power back that he stole from you a moment ago. You swallow around him there before slowly moving back up, flattening your tongue against the underside before licking over his slit and sinking back down as far as you can bear, and his voice cracks around a moan as he cums down your throat.
When you pull off him and swallow, he has an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath.
“Where did you learn to do that?” He asks. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead and you grin, toothy and mean.
“Beginner’s luck,” you say as you take his softening dick in hand and watch how quickly he sits up.
“What are you-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a whine as you slide your hand up and down a couple times, trying to work him back up. “Stop, stop, that-”
Another moan, and you watch, pleased, as he starts to harden again in your grip. To be honest, you don't know where you're going with this, or what you expected to happen, you just wanted to see what other reactions you could get from him, how far you could take your regained power.
As it stands, not very far, because he's hissing as you slide your thumb over the tip and flipping you over again so his elbows are braced next to your head.
“You're on the pill, right?” He reaches down between you to swipe his fingers over your clit.
You nod and buck your hips up into his hand, and with a breathy chuckle, he takes himself in hand and starts to guide himself into your entrance. There's a slight sting - he's bigger than anyone you've ever been with before - but he takes it slow, an uncharacteristic tenderness.
That is, until he's buried to the hilt and staring down at you, then snapping his hips in a way that should hurt but doesn't. It feels full and close and warm, his skin sliding against yours, sweat and other fluids mingling. You sneak a hand down to your clit and rub quick and hard, the way you do when you're alone at night and just need to get off and go to sleep. You're determined to reach your release before he does and you succeed, catching him in a kiss just as you cum, muffling your moans against his lips. The way your walls clench around him has him going rigid and giving you the most raw, tearing groan as he spills deep inside you, clearly not having expected to get there as quickly as you forced him to. He doesn't pull out immediately, opting instead to kiss you again, and you're not sure where you end and he begins, every bit of you mixed, in some way, with every bit of him. You stroke over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and he lets out a shaky breath onto your skin. Somehow, you know you've won this round, taken a weakness from him that he never meant to show you. When he rolls off you and tugs you into his side, you close your eyes, sleepy and sated in more ways than one.
#this...this was fun#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus smut#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x you#coryo#coryo x reader#coryo snow#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth#tom blyth x reader
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Instructions for a Good Time
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC-Elsa Matthews)
Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), blow jobs, fingering (all kinds), rimming, pegging,
Summary: An innocent question from Boys Night Out ™ leads Jake to an entirely new way of pleasure, and you're more than happy to give it to him. AKA, the long awaited pegging Jake fic.
Word Count: 5.5k (a quick drabble my ass….pun intended).
A gift for you all lovely lovelies and just in time for Christmas. What started as a tiny idea for a drabble/ficlet to celebrate 200 followers….here we are. Enjoy, fellow sluts reblog, and let me know where you got to awkwardly read this during the holidays!
Masterlist
“How was your boys' night, Jake?” you ask, noticing how your boyfriend sways slightly as he hangs up his jacket and takes off his shoes.
“T’was good,” he responds, a slight slur emphasizing the slight Texas twang usually hiding in his accent. He shuffles into the kitchen and returns with a glass of water.
You move over on the couch to allow him a spot to plop down, making sure your wine glass is safe on the table. Jake had gone out with some of the guys from the Dagger Squad, a few of them, including his bestie Coyote, being in town as guest lecturers for Top Gun. Rooster declared it a “Boyz Night,” which Jake only agreed to when it was spelled correctly, the sucker for details he is.
Jake settles in next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder, languid and relaxed, a tipsy amount inebriated, not sloppy. You put your book down on the coffee table, exchanging it for your wine glass. You're about to take a sip when Jake asks, in perhaps the most casual manner ever given what is about to come out of his mouth,
“Have you ever pegged anyone?”
You're grateful that your wine glass has just reached your lips and you hadn't fully tilted it up to drink, or there would be a fine mist of merlot spraying across your living room.
“I'll answer, but where did that come from?” you ask, gently, looking down to see the wheels turning in his head.
“Got talking about sex stuff with the guys,” he replies.
You raise an eyebrow in concern that some of the intimate details of your sex life with Jake were up for public discussion. He clocks the gesture and reassures you quickly,
“In general terms, nothing too detailed. And, it came up.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“There has to be more discussion than there's a sex act called pegging. Moving on,” you counter and Jake slightly blushes.
“Coyote talked about the difference of being with a woman versus a man, specifically receiving instead of giving. Said it would blow your mind.”
Coyote, Jake's best friend and his ride or die for many years, is gay. A simple fact that no one in the Dagger Squad, especially Jake, had ever batted an eyelash at.
“Makes sense,” you hum, combing your fingers through Jake's hair, “Men do have a prostate.”
Jake chuckles and then says,
“I did choke on my beer when Rooster agreed.”
You and Jake sit comfortably for a few minutes, before you respond.
“Yes, I have pegged someone.”
Jake perks up, waiting for more details.
“I had a boyfriend in grad school who liked…to explore…that side,” you pause,
“Is that something you'd be interested in exploring?”
Jake turns a satisfying shade of red as he considers the offer,
“With you, yes.”
You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a moan at the thought of that experience with Jake. The boyfriend from grad school had a more feminine, softer body, and a more submissive vibe to him. The idea of taking Jake in all his muscled alpha male glory does things to you, those things mostly being getting your thong very damp.
Before your imagination goes too far thinking about how each muscle in his back would ripple deliciously every time you thrusted, you remember there are some practical matters to attend to, you ask,
“Have you ever engaged in ass play?”
It's Jake's turn to have his eyes bug out in surprise, he coughs on his water before answering,
“Umm, no. No, I haven't.”
You slide your hand into his,
“That's good information to know, we're going to have to work up to actual pegging. As much as you like to go balls to the wall with everything,” he laughs quietly, shaking his head slightly at your terrible joke. Your other hand cups his jaw, a light graze of stubble tickling your palm,
“I don't want to hurt you, Jake. I want to take care of you.”
He leans into your hand and kisses your palm.
“Okay, El. I trust you, completely. I know you'll take care of me and I'll have a very good time.”
“I will Jake, you okay to try something tonight?” you ask, a little unsure, “Like blowjob with some extras?”
Jake laughs, bright and loud,
“El, I will always say yes to a blowjob. And yes, we can try some stuff.”
After a quick peck on his lips you spring off the couch, and tell him,
“Stay there, I'll be right back.”
He nods as you slide across the hardwood to your bedroom where you find the lube in your bedside table.
You return to the living room, where Jake is sitting on the couch awaiting your return. Placing the lube on the table you straddle Jake's lap and pull him in for a deep kiss, your tongues melding together as you rock your hips. You sigh when his hardening cock puts pressure on your clit through your thin sleep shorts and underwear.
He reaches down to pull your shirt over your head and you let him guide the soft fabric of one of his worn Navy tees off your body. You return the favor and slide his shirt off, dropping it on the couch. Instantly his mouth is on your breasts, teasing and licking at the nipples. The sensation is so good that he almost distracts you from your original mission. Reluctantly, you slide off Jake and kneel on the floor in front of him.
You snicker to yourself as you ease his belt through the Texas Longhorns belt buckle, like anyone would ever forget Jake is from Texas. Jake lifts his hips to allow you to pull off his jeans, leaving them in a small heap next to the sofa. Lightly you run your nails up Jake's leg to the top of his boxer briefs and pull them down, releasing his hard cock, precum visible on the ruddy red tip. His underwear joins his pants on the floor and you turn your attention to him and his gorgeous cock.
Peppering light kisses along the shaft you work your way up to tip, pausing a moment before you take him into your mouth. You take a little bit more of him on every bob up and down till his dick is hitting the back of your throat. A natural steady rhythm forms as you work Jake up, listening to his moans, grunts, and words of praise.
“Fuck, El, that feels good. You suck my cock so well,” he murmurs, holding back your hair as you pleasure him. He is getting close, so you pull off of him and drag a finger down the shaft wet with your spit, past his balls, and very gently circle around his hole.
“Can I touch you here?” you ask, almost breathless in anticipation of his answer, you've kept your other hand slowly jerking him up and down.
“Yes, fuck, El. Yes, touch me,” he pants out, his green eyes hazed over with lust. Grabbing the lube from the table you squeeze some out on your hand, enjoying the little whine from Jake when you pull your hand away from his cock.
After the lube has warmed up, you lean back down, taking him in your mouth as you press your middle finger gently against his hole. You tease just the tip of your digit past the ring of strong muscles. Your other hand stroking his cock. Jake moans softly above you,
“Color?” you ask Jake, pulling off his cock for a brief moment.
“Green, El. Green,” he responds, voice calm.
Emboldened by his answer you push your finger slowly up inside him up to the second knuckle. The way he moans only gives you some more confidence. Making sure there is enough lube, you push your finger further into him, seeking his prostate.
The moment you find the small rubbery bump with the thin tip of your finger, you know Jake understands how it feels to have your clit sucked. He lets out the deepest, most primal grunt mixed with a moan you've ever heard from him.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, El…yes, there, keep touching me, ugh, there,”
Jake grunts. His breath catches every time you surge up on his prostate with your finger. You slide your mouth back down on him.
Syncing up your finger thrusts into Jake along with each slide of your hand and head up and down his cock.
Above you Jake is losing his mind,
“Fuck, El, not gonna last long..too good,” he pants out.
It only takes a few more repetitions for Jake to come undone, his entire body spasming from head to toe. Jake is lightly thrusting as he falls over the edge. He is speaking but not forming any words you recognize.
“Oh my, fuck, good, so good,” he says, interspersed with grunts and moans.
His release floods your mouth, some spilling out the corner of your mouth. Slowly and gently you slide off Jake's and pull your finger from him, earning a light sigh from him.
He is looking down at you, sated and face filled with love and tenderness that seems out of place with what you just did. He runs his thumb to collect the come that has dribbled down your chin. He swipes his thumb across your lips and your tongue darts out to taste him.
“Damn, El. You're going to kill me if you keep on like that,” he groans and pulls you up to his lap, grabbing your head for a deep kiss.
“How was that, Jake?” you ask, curious about his reaction. He smirks and nuzzles his face into your neck.
“Really fucking good,” he responds, smiling shyly in the skin of your neck.
“I’m glad,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him on the forehead, mindful to keep your lube covered hand away from Jake and your upholstery. Jake yawns, causing you to yawn.
“Let's head to bed, sweetheart,” Jake offers and you nod in agreement,
“I need to take care of my girl.”
–
“Couldn't we just order this online?” Jake, slightly whines, stepping into the sex shop behind you.
“I think this is the best way to, I don't know..., pick out something that's going in your body. Just think of all the other terrible Amazon purchases you've made. Do I need to remind you of the Tiny Chair Debacle™ ?” you respond.
“To be fair they didn't say it was for a dollhouse,” he counters.
“It was an armchair for ten dollars, Jake,” you remind him.
“Okay, okay, you're right,” Jake concedes and lets his shoulders relax as he follows you deeper into the store towards the toy section.
“Here we go. Which one do you want to take home?” you ask, big smirk on your face. Jake glares at you,
“You're loving this aren't you?”
“Yup, for such a sexual person, you being all bashful when it comes to sex toys is endearing,” you answer, going up on tip toe to to give his mildly grumpy mouth a kiss. He sighs and points to an all black dildo of rather substantial size, asking,
“How about this one?”
Tilting your head and picking up the object, you offer some advice,
“Mm, seems too stiff,” Jake snickers at your word choice, “And a little ambitious for a first time.”
Setting it down you walk down the wall where dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors are perched on clear plastic shelves, Jake trailing behind you.
You select a slimmer blue model with some give and a slight curve and hand it to Jake. He takes it and considers it.
“This one would be good, reasonable girth, flexible, and it's shaped to hit your prostate.”
Jake stops and looks at you, a smirk on his face,
“You researched this, didn't you?”
“Of course, you didn't think we'd just go into this blind? I want this to be good for you.”
“God, you are such an engineer. And it's really hot,” he places the dildo in your hand, “Yes, let's get this one.”
Quickly you find a harness and some other lubes. A few minutes later you've got an entire pegging starter pack in a bright magenta shopping bag.
When you get home you place the bag on the bed, Jake follows you in and slides up behind you. His hands on your hips, he starts to kiss a line down your neck.
“Can we try it out?” he asks as his hands toy with the hem of your shirt.
“Yes, I'm game,” you reply and Jake pulls your shirt off. Turning around you return the favor and shed Jake's shirt.
“Let's start with a shower,” you suggest. Jake grins and slides his strong hands down your back over your ass and under your thighs pulling you up to him. On instinct you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and your legs around his waist. Jake captures your lips into a deep kiss and walks you both to the bathroom.
“Showoff,” you tease as he sets you down. Jake continues to strip as you start the shower. Your clothes hit the floor as the water warms up. Stepping into the water you hold out your hand for Jake to follow and he does eagerly.
Your arms wrap around Jake and his around you as the warm water envelops you both. He leans down to kiss you and you both sink into the kiss. You slide your arms down Jake’s back massaging the muscles as you trace his lips with your tongue. He sighs and allows your tongue into mouth and his into yours.
You let yourselves get lost in each other's mouth, embrace, and bodies. Hands sliding easily with the water, gently caressing each other.
Knowing just how long your water heater will last, you finally break apart and grab a washcloth. As you pull Jake's body wash off the rack you say,
“Turn around, let me wash you.”
Jake takes a deep breath, turning quickly and slapping his hands on the wall with his legs spread like he's preparing for a cavity search. The gesture pulls a laugh out of you.
Jake turns and looks at you confused.
“Come here,” you say softly, squeezing some body wash on the cloth. He steps back to you as you run the sudsy cloth along his shoulders.
“This is about relaxing you, not just some perfunctory step in the process. Let me take care of you. Just like you take care of me.”
His face loses the tightness it had before as you run the cloth on his chest, enjoying your touch.
When you're satisfied with his chest, you gently place your hand on his shoulder and he turns around.
You reassure him with a hug, even if your face mashes in between his shoulder blades because of your height difference. He sinks back into your embrace, folding his arms over yours.
Starting at his shoulders you swipe the cloth around, making sure to massage each muscle earning you some sighs and groans along the way.
“Feeling good?” you ask, continuing to work your way down his back.
“Yes, El. I should have you do this more often. You have magic hands,” he replies, arching his back to allow you more access to some of his lower back muscles.
“I think that can be arranged,” you reply, sweetly kissing between his shoulder blades. Convinced that Jake is relaxed and close to being putty in your hands, you let the wash cloth slide down the sharp slope of his ass making sure to gently caress the firm muscles with your other hand.
Trailing kisses down his spine you kneel down continuing your worship of his body. You make sure to kiss both dimples on his ass; the thought that you want to leave lipstick marks on them someday flashes in your brain.
You lead with the washcloth and gently swipe across his hole as you drop more kisses on his firm ass. Dropping the washcloth you place both hands symmetrically on each cheek, your thumbs just at the top of his crack. Massaging small circles you slide down his crack, pulling apart his cheeks as your tongue follows the same path.
Stopping just shy of his hole, you ask,
“Color, baby?”
From above you hear Jake's head thunk onto his forearm planted on the tile.
“Green, El. So green,” he pants out. Satisfied with his answer you dart your tongue out to trace the delicate muscles around his hole.
“Fuck, El…feels good,” Jake moans, slightly muffled by his arm.
Slowly and methodically you swirl around him, enjoying the sounds you're pulling out of him.
“More, please, El, more,” he begs and you oblige him and push the point of your tongue into the center.
“El, fuck…,” Jake's words fade as you thrust in and out with your tongue. It's when Jake starts to push back at your face that you know it's time. Settling one last kiss on his ass you stand up.
“Ready for more, baby?” you coo into his ear. He stands upright turning to look at you and catch you in a kiss.
“Fuck me, please El. Fuck me,” he moans into your mouth.
Getting out of the shower, dried, and back to the bedroom is a blur of hands, kisses, and a few giggles as you maneuver down the hall to your bedroom.
When you reach the edge of the bed, you direct Jake to lie down,
“Get comfy. On your back.”
He lays down with his easy grace for a man so large and looks at you in anticipation, the bright magenta shopping bag still on the bed. Flexing his arms to put his hands behind his head he watches your movements as you pull out the dildo, strap, and one of the new lubes. A lube the lady at the store swore by for anal. You lean down to give a quick peck before saying,
“Let me go make sure this is clean and open the lube. Be right back.”
A quick rinse with some soap and water and opening of the lube later you’re back at the bed stepping into the harness, an understated neoprene number in black. (Recommend because it's machine washable, it appealed to your practical side.)
Jake watches you intently as you adjust the straps to your liking and attach the dildo. With the final adjustments completed, a slight look of apprehension crosses Jake's face as he reaches out and touches the dildo and considers its size. Sensing the tension you decide to crack a joke,
“So tell me the truth. Who wore it better?” you ask, grinning and swinging the dildo back forth comically. Jake cracks a grin and laughs.
“Well, I hope I wore it better, but mine’s not blue,” he replies, his patented smirk on his face.
Leaning down to kiss your favorite smile in the all world, you answer back, against his lips,
“Without a doubt you wear it and me better, lie back and let me take care of you.”
He sighs into the kiss and lies back, settling into the pillows, and letting any tension ebb out of his body in one long breath out. You chase his lips down and kneel on the bed, taking your time to drag your lips along his jaw, neck, and chest leaving kisses on your wake. Your hands come up to cup Jake's pecs and gently brush against his nipples with your thumbs.
Looking up at Jake you can see is relaxed, his eyes hazy and watching you worship his body. You meet his gaze and tell him,
“You are so beautiful, Jake.”
He blushes at the comment, but graciously accepts it and cradles your face in a loving gesture. Planting firm kisses down the midline of his abs you slide into place between his legs.
Jake's half hard when you draw him in your mouth, and you enjoy the heady feeling of him plumping up in your mouth as you work down his cock. You slide up and down with your mouth and hands a few times, letting your spit run down to his balls. You leave your hand on his shaft and trail your lips down to his balls, licking them generously.
“Feels good, El,” Jake pants from above. You give each ball one last kiss and lick your tongue across his taint and finally to his hole.
“I'm going to open you up, Jake. Is that okay?” you ask, you've been gently stroking his cock this whole time.
“Yes, El. Green,” he answers. You grab the lube and squeeze a dollop on your fingers and try to warm it up.
“This might be cold,” you warm Jake as you smear the lube on his hole, he starts a little and then relaxes again. Slowly and methodically you start with one finger, not getting deep enough to hit his prostate, a second, and finally a third. You check in at each stage and receive a breathier “Green” each time from Jake.
“Are you ready for my cock, Jake?” you ask as you kneel up, making sure to make eye contact with Jake.
“Jesus, El. Yes, I'm ready for your cock, please fuck me, it's been hours,” he answers more strung out than whiney.
“Roll over on your knees,” you instruct him and he complies. A few pillows are stuffed under his hips and he leans down crossing his forearms and resting his turned head on them. It takes a few adjustments from both of you to find the right height and angle for the mechanics of it all to work. Those details worked out with a few giggles and laughs, you lube up the dildo and place it at his hole.
“Ready? We can always stop,” you reassure him.
“Yes, please, El. I'm aching for it,” he answers. With that all clear you guide the tip of the dildo to his hole with your hand and gently, slowly insert the tip into the tight ring of muscles. It glides in easily, all of the prep worth it. You slide a bit farther and pull back out just a little, testing the waters.
“Fuuuck, fuck that feels good,” Jake practically shouts. He starts to push back at you in an effort to get more of the dildo. You smile to yourself, feeling accomplished as you thrust in. The push and pull repeats itself a few more times and a low moan is pulled from Jake and a frenzied,
“There, fucking there, so good, please more.”
Triumphant you've found his prostate you keep thrusting at the same depth, determined to get Jake to that edge in a new way. Your hands grip hard on his hips, just where his Adonis belt meets his quads, to keep you in place as you pull in and out of him. The rhythm established, you take the time to savor and thoroughly enjoy the vision before you. Jake has lifted up onto his forearms, no doubt to get more leverage to push back. His head oscillates between being thrown back, neck stretched out as he moans, and hanging down as the pleasure overwhelms him. Every time you surge forward he meets you halfway. You let one hand wander to catalog each of the muscles in his back and how they flex and twitch each beat of the rhythm. You can't help but be transfixed watching the dildo, your cock as you've started calling it now, slide in and out of Jake. The absolute ecstasy you're giving him is a heady feeling and ratchets up your arousal, soaking the neoprene of the harness.
“Fuck, Jake, you look so good damn hot, can't believe I'm the one who gets to see you like this, fuck you like this, make you feel so good,” you pant out between each push of your hips.
“So good, El, so fuckin’ good. You fuck me so well,” he responds, the words scattered between each ebb and surge of your bodies.
“Think you can come just like this, Jake?” you ask, knowing your stamina for this position is waning.
“Need more, touch me, please, please,” Jake begs, “Something please.”
“Okay, one sec,” you reply. You pull all the way out on your next beat, earning an anguished moan from Jake, words of confusion tumble out of his mouth,
“No, where? What? El?”
Laying a reassuring kiss at the small of his back and stroking his flank in a soothing manner, you instruct him,
“Flip over.”
He complies with amazing speed as you sweep the pillows off the bed and slide up to meet him. Sweat is beaded up on his face, hair in a dozen different directions, and his eyes are glazed over with pleasure. His cock pulses on his abdomen, a sheen of precum on his abs.
“Hands here,” you direct him, taking his hands in yours and sliding them under his thighs as you lift his legs up for a better angle, “Hold them, right there.”
He complies and lets them bend at the knee. Shuffling the last few inches, you rest the tip of your cock at his hole as you apply more lube.
“Ready?” you ask and are startled by how fast Jake replies.
“Fuck yes, please just get in me, El.”
Happy with that answer you slide in smoothly as deep as you'd been going before, the same feral reaction from Jake when you find that special bundle of nerves.
“Ungh, right…fucking…there, El,” he pants out between thrusts. Satisfied with your rhythm you grab the sides of Jake's waist and hold hard against his prostate on one thrust in and gently massage his prostate with a slight rocking of your hips, Jake's moans change in response.
“Fuck…good…ahhahh…there, ungh.”
You lean down, thankful for all your gymnastics training and twice weekly yoga, because you know Jake is about to lose his mind, and you're more than happy to do it for him. You slide one hand from his waist to the base of his cock to hold it one place and with no warning take Jake's cock as far in your mouth as you can and suck hard. The overwhelming combination of your cock in his ass, your hand jerking at the base of his dick, and your mouth are the explosive elements Jake needs for total liftoff.
Jake's orgasm is a whole body experience, his hand flies down to the back of your head holding it there as he thrusts up into your mouth flooding it with his come, and his ass clenches around the strap on and puts a delicious pressure on your clit. He comes with a loud shout,
“Ohmyfuckin’ god, fuuuuck.”
His release floods your mouth and you can't hold it all in or swallow it and it drips out of your mouth onto his abs.
Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through his body accompanied by another spurt of come. The waves decrease in intensity and Jake falls back to the bed limp, his hand sliding off your head. You take that as your cue to release him from your mouth.
Leaning up, you warn him,
“I'm pulling out, okay?” and he feebly waves a hand in answer. Gently you pull the strap on out and quickly unclip the straps releasing it to the bed.
You climb over Jake, mindful of his oversensitive cock where it rests on his belly in a puddle of come. Sliding up his lax body, you position your knees on either side of his chest and lean up so he has a front row seat of your glistening cunt.
“Fuck, Jake. That was so hot, so fucking sexy. Fucking you got me this wet. Feel,” you pant as your hand slides to give your clit some relief. Jake is mesmerized by your frenzied movements on your clit and brings his hand up to offer you two fingers to fuck yourself on. They slide in easily with how turned on you are, it takes a few pumps of his thick fingers and tight circles around your clit to fall over the edge, a gush of your slick coating Jake's hand and arm as you clench on his fingers.
“I'm coming,” you shriek as your pent up arousal bursts forth. Unable to hold yourself up you lean forward planting a hand in the pillow next to Jake's head. Under you Jake groans as you clench on his fingers as each wave hits you. The pleasure ebbs as Jake pulls his hand from you and both are left panting gazing into each other's eyes. A few moments of silence and you both crack a giddy smile.
“Wow,” you say, at a loss for more eloquent words.
“Wow,” he repeats, making you both laugh. Rolling to Jake's side, you lie on your back catching your breath. When you look over, Jake is lying peacefully, eyes closed and a wide smile on face.
“I'll be right back,” you tell him and slide off the bed, he nods lazily. You head to the bathroom for thorough hand washing and tooth brush before grabbing a bottle of water and some dark chocolate squares.
Back in the bedroom, you sit on the bed and brush Jake's shoulder gently, he stirs looking up at you in a way that can only be described as “dreamy”.
“Here, sit up. I got some water and chocolate for you. Drink and eat this while I get the shower going.”
He sits up and leans against the headboard and takes the water and chocolate from your hands. You give him a quick kiss on the forehead before you grab the strap to bring to the bathroom.
As you let the water heat up, you disassemble the strap, throwing the harness in the dirty laundry and washing the dildo off with a gentle soap per the directions. Those tasks completed you go and gather Jake, he has dutifully drank the water and eaten the chocolate.
He follows you when you take him by the hand to the bathroom and settles on the bench in the shower. You pull down his shampoo and tilt him forward to get his hair wet. Standing in front of him you lather his hair, making sure to comb your nails through Jake's hair in the way that he likes. Jake leans his head against your stomach and wraps his arms around your back. You grab the hand sprayer to rinse Jake's hair so you don't have to break this embrace and closeness. Rinsed and just luxuriating in the water you hook a gentle finger under Jake's chin to direct his gaze to you. Satisfied his gorgeous green eyes are meeting yours you ask, softly,
“How do you feel, Jake?”
He smiles in response and pulls you down to straddle his lap, in a gesture that clocks as intimate rather than physical.
“Really fucking good. I liked it, well loved it, obviously, it was different in a way I didn't know my body could do. But I think the part I enjoyed most was just how focused you were on taking care of me. It made me feel…,” he pauses, a bashful look creeps onto his face,
“Incredibly loved.”
Your face softens and you surge forth to give him a reassuring kiss,
“You are incredibly loved, by me. Everything I give back to you is a reflection of the love you give me, Jake. I love you so fucking much, it takes my breath away sometimes. I always want you to feel our love.”
A brilliant smile blooms on his face as he kisses the side of your neck in a sweet gesture.
“Thank you, El. I love you so much too,” he replies, trailing his lips up to meet yours for a kiss. It's sweet and followed up by a few playful pecks. You and Jake sit wrapped up in each other, the sound of the water soothing as you lean your foreheads together soaking up the warmth and intimacy of the moment.
You startle slightly when Jake breaks the silence,
“I didn't know you were that flexible,” he says.
The thought that Jake was surprised by your flexibility makes you laugh, bright and loud, it echoes around the shower.
You lean back to look Jake in the eyes.
“Really, Jake? Think of all the ways you've fucked me like a pretzel,” you say, eyebrow raised. A dirty montage floats through Jake's brain, bringing an equally dirty smile to his face, as you say the next thing,
“I'm not a former gymnast who does twice weekly yoga for nothing.”
He laughs and tilts head in agreement, a mischievous look appears in his eyes, one you know well.
“Just think of what we could do with yoga three times a week, sweetheart,” he says, signature smirk in place.
“Jake!”
–
Of course I couldn't write these two disgustingly in love people doing something as intense as pegging as a quick ficlet. No, we HAVE to know why they're fucking and all those gooey emotions with it. Hope you enjoyed it.
@kmc1989
@starswholistenanddreamsanswered
@mamachasesmayhem
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