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ushittyoldman · 4 years ago

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sweetheart like you

request. hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song)

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?”

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably.

“Holy shit.”

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes.

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes.

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer.

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.”

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you.

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend.

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat.

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing.

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

#spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #this was so fun 2 write n i am sad its over #spike cowboy bebop

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gringolet · 4 years ago

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INTRO TO ARTHURIANA MASTERPOST

under the cut for absurd length

HOW TO GET STARTED WITH ARTHURIANA

The Arthuriana fandom is very broad and there's no one piece of media, which can be confusing for people just getting into it! There’s no right way to engage with arthuriana, and no minimum level of knowledge or reading you need to attain to qualify.

The basis of the Arthurian Legend is a body of hundreds of texts written across the medieval and early Renaissance period in dozens of languages and cultural traditions. Which can seem pretty overwhelming, but there are a lot of modern vernacular translations-- you absolutely don’t have to learn old French or anything. I’ll go more in depth on where to get started with texts further down.

You also don’t have to read texts at all. As I said, there is no minimum basis-- if you prefer to engage with modern adaptations, or want to engage with medieval arthuriana outside of reading texts, that's also cool!

In terms of modern adaptations there is a wealth of choices, which I am very much not an expert in lol, so I’m afraid I can’t give much in the way of reccs. Books I have heard good things about are, Exiled from Camelot, Idylls of the Queen, The Buried Giant, the Squire's Tale series, and Gawain by Gwen Rowley (warning that this one is apparently erotica? Good for him). I trust @princesslibs for modern book reccomendations. and if you speak French Kaamelott is purportedly a very good tv show. Frankly no modern adaptation will ever be better than Spamalot to me, but that's just my personal take.

If you are curious about engaging with texts but (understandably) don’t want to read a ton of dense medieval literature, one really cool resource is Norris J Lacy's New Arthurian Encyclopedia, which you can pick up at most used bookstores for under ten bucks. It’s a very thorough easy to look through reference of characters stories and texts. I know a lot of people like the Nightbringer wiki, though I personally am wary of it because it basically never cites sources. It’s a good quick reference though and a lot of people like it, I’d just take it with a grain of salt. Sparknotes also has a lot of summaries of the major texts like Le Morte D’Arthur and the romances of Chrétien De Troyes. You are not a fake fan for doing this I promise. And of course you’re always welcome to send me an ask <3

Finally, getting started with texts. Quick glossary of terms:

--Verse Romance

A verse (poem) story which can vary a great deal in length. These deal with the adventures of individual knights, usually Gawain, and tend to have a great deal of magical elements and the stereotypical monster slaying, questing, damosel rescuing knight adventures.

--Prose Novel or Romance

A non poetic narrative, more like a modern novel, more likely to deal with the fall of Arthur, sword in the stone, Mordred, fall of Camelot sort of affair. They are usually quite long. Most famous of these are Le Morte D’Arthur and the French Vulgate, but there are a slew of late medieval Prose novels floating around. Eluding Rey.

--Pseudohistory

I’m gonna b real these are boring I think. These are, as the name suggests, written as accurate depictions of history. They very much are not, but they claim to be. Most famous of these is Jeffrey of Monmouth, Mr Jeff Mouth himself, and his History of the Kings of Britain, which I haven’t read because it bores me. You can if you want. It’s in Latin. Whatever. These tend to be some of the earliest texts, and include the “lives of saints” stories. Life of Gildas is the only funny one.

--Ballads

These are only arguably texts, as most of them were written after the time of the “canon” being composed. But I like them. These are songs telling stories, recorded by people like Francis Child and Thomas Percy. They are very short and fun and include stories like The Boy and the Mantle, Kempion, and King Arthur and the King of Cornwall.

--Lai

A specific type of French verse poem, usually quite short. The most famous collection of lais are those of Marie le France, including things like Bisclavret and Lanval.

--Traditions

Since Arthuriana was written all over, there are different literary traditions across time and space. The French tradition is one of the most famous, including works like the vulgate, Chretien and a lot of verse romances. The English tradition is one of the most influential on modern adaptations, including the Morte D’Arthur and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. There are also Welsh, German, Dutch, Hebrew, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Tagalog, Greek, Belarussian, Scottish, Irish, Breton, and probably even more. There’s a lot. It’s very cool and sexy.

A note that there is also a big tradition of Victorian revival Arthuriana. I wrote a starter guide to that here, it’s all very fun and like, aesthetic.

Alright, now, which texts do you start with?

If you’re a little intimidated by long texts or medieval lit, starting with short verse romances in modern translation is a great place to start. These include Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, which is very good and gay and well known, Lancelot and the Hart With The White Foot, which is very good and gay and underappreciated, or Lanval, which is homophobic but funny.

If you want to start with what is considered the oldest King Arthur Story, Culwch and Olwen is short and fun!

If you want to read about the grail quest, you can start where it started with Story of the Grail or Percival, then the four continuations, Essenbachs Parzival, the vulgate version of the Grail quest which you can buy paperback for like 5 bucks (I can also scan my copy for you just shoot me an ask <3)

If you want to read about the fall of camelot, I have the Vulgate death of Arthur section scanned here. There’s also the Alliterative and Stanzaic mortes, which are in middle English. I have scanned Simon Armitage's Alliterative Morte translation here. I’m working on my own translation of the Stanzaic but it’s not done lol. If you want the first third or so DM me lol. King Artus is very short and readable and it’s a Jewish text which is really cool.

If you want to read about Lancelot, Chrétien de Troyes Lancelot is his first text. He also has a whole long vulgate section, the first part is scanned here by val <3, and there's Lanzelet, Sebile is in it so it’s probably very good. He’s also basically the main character of Le Morte D’Arthur which I might as well talk about here uhm. It’s long and fun in places and boring in others but it does have like the version most modern adaptations take from and tells the whole story of Arthur and Camelot from beginning to end. The Keith Baines version scanned by val is the most readable but it is an abridgement I believe. people who like le morte usually read this version so its probably the best choice lol

If you want to read about Gawain, good news! He’s in basically everything. Even texts that aren’t supposed to be about Gawain are doomed to become The Gawain Show Featuring The Protagonist Of This Text As A Sidekick. Which is so funny of him. The Roman Van Walewein is very funny and long and Gawain™. I also recommend, L’atre Perilous, Diu Krone, Sir Gawain and the Turk, and I could go on but for brevity's sake let's start there.

If you want to read about Tristan, go shoot an ask to Valentine @lanzelet on tumblr because Tristan scares me.

Thank you to rey @gawain-in-green for helping me find links and put this together! They are also a super great resource for stuff and very cool and nice <3 They have a tag on their blog for full text resources so deffo look at that if you want more scans and links, and an info tag and tons of cool shit that is way better organized than my blog lol

Okay finishing this off, if you want content warnings for any texts, feel free to shoot an ask! I know medieval lit can be A Lot and there aren’t a lot of good warning systems, so if I’ve read it or know someone who has I can give you warnings if you want to read something but are understandably wary . <3

In terms of tagging, Arthuriana and Arthurian Legend are the main ones on tumblr. Arthurian Mythology is also used but tbh shouldn’t be. On Ao3, we’re trying to get our own Arthurian Literature tag but <3 its a whole thing. Anyway the tag is Arthurian Mythology, but I’ll b real, it’s kind of flooded with stuff that doesn’t really belong there, because even though it’s a fandom tag other people unknowingly tag stuff as Arthurian Mythology when it’s like, a knight au. Which is not their fault bc it’s confusing but, ah, alas. ANyhow, feel free to drop in my inbox anytime with questions, suggestions, reccs, etc!

Okay godspeed!! Have fun reading, watching, browsing, etc!

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian literature #arthurian mythology #:/

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binunus · 4 years ago

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college bf!rocky

a/n next is our rock and aegyo king sorry sanha park minhyuk !! also I was going to post this yesterday :( but me and my roommates got a little too lit for valentine’s and I literally sat for 7 hours straight in zoom so I couldn’t finish it until now but !! I hope you loves enjoy!!

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ word count: 4.9k

_________________________________

alright aright alrightttt

we’re gonna switch it up a little bit

add a little flavor

because as much as I would love to say that college bf!astro all got their partners in a cute and smooth sailing way

we all know relationships aren’t that easy

but before we get into how you and rocky met

major: dance

are we surprised? no

rocky is a prodigy in dance

he’s been dancing since he could walk

he started choreographing at age 6

it just made sense for him, like even his parents were like go pursue dance, you’re not a law or business type of kid

he can master any type of dance from jazz, to ballet, to street, to contemporary, to tango, whatever you can think of

he’s roommates with music tech!jinjin

jin literally takes care of him all the time bc rocky??? when he comes back to the apt after dance practice?? dead weight

only passes his gen ed classes bc eunwoo tutors him

if it weren’t for the boys, rocky would literally live in the dance studio

they make sure to drag him out for fun and food at least once a week

or they join and keep him company while he’s practicing

have they gotten noise complaints before while messing around in the dance studio? yes

rocky is loud alright, especially when he’s with astro

he’s a perfectionist, literally will not leave the studio until he’s 100% satisfied with his progress

oh the amount of times myungjun and jin nag at him to take care of his health

now now

you’re also a dance major

people could say that you and rocky are the top two dancers of your year

gasp a rivals to lovers au??? you betcha baby

granted you switched into a dancer major your second year so rocky technically had seniority

but boom baby as soon as you made your appearance, it rocked his world

now im not saying rocky’s cocky bc obviously he’s a cute hardworking humble boy

but was he used to always being placed first in evaluations or getting the highest marks??? yeah

so the first time you placed first and he placed second??? it lit a bit of a fire in him

he’s seen a ton of good dancers in his time, but no one has ever matched his capabilities better than you

there was an unspoken rivalry between you two, everyone knew about it

you both always wanted to upstage the other

there was always a tension whenever you two were in the same room

but like...have either of you ever really talked to each other besides side remarks in class?

and it didn’t really help that the whole dance department basically pit you up against each other to see who was really the best dancer of your year

so you and rocky never had the proper introduction to a friendship, it just went straight to rivalry

and then came the announcements for the end of the year showcase

and instead of putting on a solo, the department chairs decided to have you and rocky perform a duet

and you’ve never worked with him before so you were dreading the first time you met up

you to your roommate: ugh i can’t believe im partnered up with rocky, that arrogant rude–

your roommate: have you ever even talked to him, y/n? he’s actually very nice

you: no...but that’s what he wants you to believe!

your ego sorta just went along with the whole thing

and rocky was 15 min late to your meeting bc he was out eating food with the guys so your patience?? very thin

literally as soon as he stepped into the dance studio, the air turned stuffy

rocky could feel you glaring at him and he just smirks??

rocky: did I make you wait long y/n?

you: yeah you did

he liked pushing your buttons?? idk he just felt satisfaction knowing that any small of action of his affected you that much

it made him feel like he was winning or whatever

and god it took literally forever for you two to decide on a song and genre of performance for the showcase

you wanted contemporary, he wanted ballet

you were literally disagreeing so much on it that you had to ask Siri to flip a coin

and then you fought and said that Siri was rigged when it chose tails (contemporary)

so you decided on a happy? mix of both

rocky at the end of your first meeting: i get that we’re not exactly friends, y/n, but we have to work together so let’s at least be professional

you: i can if you can

rocky: fine

you two literally bicker like five year olds on a playground

even the guys are like ???? why are you being so childish ???

you have 2 months of preparation until the showcase and you start meeting once a week for choreography and practice since given the assignment

you two are pretty civil for the most part, you make the contemporary parts and he makes the ballet parts and then you combine it when you meet up and see how it can incorporate and complement each other

there’s not much joking around ?? like you know how rocky’s a clown when he’s teaching astro choreography?? it’s not like that at all

and honestly you two are too caught up in your rivalry and tension to notice that your styles really match and highlight each other well??

there’s definitely a lot of “i could do this better than you” from both sides

i repeat: you are children

and then there’s this one practice where you and rocky are trying a pas de deux for the first time

(i literally looked this term up, it’s basically what jungkook and jimin from bts did during the 2020 mma black swan intro...if you haven’t seen it, watch it bc it is perfection mmm chefs kiss)

and you don’t know if it’s because you didn’t have enough momentum or rocky didn’t prep himself enough for the lift but he ends up dropping you and you both fall

and you both immediately start blaming each other for the mishap

until you lift your hand to point at him and it just hurts

it’s like a switch goes off, rocky’s immediately concerned and he’s like gently taking your hand like: holy shit are you okay??

you shake your head and you’re wincing whenever you try to move it

you: ow fuck rocky, I think it’s sprained

and he suddenly feels so guilty, like he goes silent

you: can we stop for today? I’m gonna go get this checked out, make sure it’s not broken

rocky: do you want me to go with you?

you: no. I’ll see you next week.

boy he feels so bad, he texts you throughout the course of the following week asking if you’re okay, asking your roommate if you’re okay, telling you he’s sorry that he dropped you

you didn’t respond much, not bc you felt weird texting him–well, you did a little bit shhh–but bc you were beating yourself up for getting injured a month before the showcase

you show up to practice the next week with your wrist in a compression bandage

and he doesn’t greet you with a quip like he usually does, he immediately grabs your wrist (gently) and he’s like inspecting the bandage

you: uh...the doctor said I should be careful with it for a week or two if i want it to heal faster. so don’t bitch at me if i’m not going all out

rocky: y/n...i’m so sorry...I didn’t mean to injure you, it was my fault that we didn’t execute the pas de deux

you just shrug: it was both our faults...if I didn’t fall on my wrist maybe we could have avoided this little obstacle

rocky: if I caught you correctly, you wouldn’t have even fallen

you: are we really arguing right now about this??

and then the two of you just laugh???

this is the first real pleasant interaction you’ve had with him

and you notice like wow rocky had a nice smile

you: i should be back to normal before the showcase so we should be fine

rocky: don’t push it though while we’re practicing alright? if your wrist starts hurting then stop, and don’t even think about doing any floor choreo

the atmosphere between you and rocky change after that

he becomes pretty concerned about your recovery–and maybe it’s bc he still blames himself for the cause of it

each night before your set practice days, he always shoots you a text asking how you’re feeling and how your wrist is doing

he brings ice packs, painkillers, and extra bandages during your practices just in case you need it

and you’re actually pretty touched by his concern

about two weeks before the showcase, your wrist is back to full movement and you’re like excited to actually practice to your best ability

from now on you see each other twice a week, just to get that detail and fine-tuning perfected

rocky’s still a bit hesitant to have you go full out but you reassure him that you’re fine

you both try the pas de deux again the day you take your bandage off

and you can see that he’s nervous to try it

you: rocky, i’m fully healed now. we haven’t practiced this move since the first time and we need it in our routine

rocky: but...y/n, what if I drop you again??

you: you won’t...i trust you

and you really did, that move requires a lot of trust between partners and you know? maybe it didn’t work out the first time because of the lack of trust between you two

and so you go through the full routine and rocky was holding his breath when that part of the choreography came up but you both successfully did it!! and it was a beautiful move

he was so excited at the end of the run through that he hugged you

and you were smiling too bc this was the first time you did a full run through without any stops in between

you both don’t even notice that all the hostility is gone??

and the tension suddenly changed from hatred to...dare I say it...sexual

oo baby the day of the showcase you two were hella nervous

but c’mon you and rocky were the best of the best so ofc you absolutely killed the performance

your energies literally merged as soon as the music started

every move was flawless

and you both had to face each other during your ending pose and you were just like looking at him like ??? wtf ??? did you maybe wanna kiss him??

and you know the look that rocky has in his eyes when he’s dancing

imagine that literally piercing into your soul

you got the shivers waiting for the lights to dim

you both received a standing ovation after your duet obviously

astro watching it bc they always support rocky: they’re gonna fuck 100%

fast forward to the next term bc you both didn’t really have a reason to contact each other during summer break now that the showcase was done

you and rocky had two classes together, dance research and advanced modern technique

it was then that you started to see his actual personality and how goofy of a person he was

you still had a rivalry of course, but now it was healthy

instead of trying to bring each other down, you both started motivating each other to do better

and yes you’ve always been impressed with how good of a dancer rocky was (and vice versa), but now whenever you saw him practice you start to feel a little bit of stir in your stomach and shit are you blushing??

and then you two get paired up again for your midterm evaluation

your teacher: i saw the chemistry you had for the showcase last term, i think you two would work well together for this project

and god is your teacher trying to murder you??? the theme of this midterm was “couple dance” to encourage collaboration or whatever

you were just thankful that the song choice she gave you was more upbeat and not sensual bc you know for a fact that you would not survive doing a sexy dance routine with rocky

but that didn’t stop the way your skin felt like it was on fire whenever he touched you for partner-dependent moves

this time around, you did the choreography process together and it was actually pretty fun??

you and him would bounce back ideas and joke around whenever something looked stupid

you and rocky did this by the way for reference

and then there was one late night when you two were practicing

it was around 2 am, no one else was in the music building and you both didn’t have class the next day so you two were just like fuck it let’s just practice until campus security kicks us out or whatever

you both were literally dancing for four hours, not just this new routine but old ones and freestyles as well

and then you were doing your new routine and during the part where he had to twirl and dip you, you both fall again

but no one got injured this time luckily

and you both just burst out laughing, maybe you were a little delirious at this point in the night

you: i can’t believe you dropped me again

rocky’s laughing and you both just look at each other, and he’s hovering above you right???

and your heart is beating so loudly in your chest you’re positive he can hear it

and you’re thankful that your face was already hot from dancing so that he couldn’t tell that you were in fact blushing

rocky’s like looking at you for a good minute or so and he’s just like thinking in his head: have you always been this cute?

and maybe it’s bc you guys have been getting along so well lately and the vibes are??? immaculate

but the atmosphere suddenly gets super thick and he !! just !! leans down !! and !! kisses !! you !!

and phew baby you bet that you immediately respond to it

you’re literally making out on the floor for like five minutes

and mind you, five minutes is a long time

until rocky’s phone rings loudly through the speaker and you both suddenly separate

he scurries to his phone and you sit up trying to compose yourself

jinjin: park minhyuk where are you?! it’s 3 am!!

you literally hear jinjin scolding rocky through the phone and you laugh a little bc it’s so cute how he’s getting nagged right now

rocky: hyung...im practicing...

jinjin: do i need to drag you out of there?! i’ll literally call bin to carry your ass to our apartment! how long have you been practicing huh?? have you eaten dinner at all??

rocky: okay okay I’ll come back home

he turns to you after ending the call and he’s so !! shy !!

rocky: I guess that’s the end of our practice haha...do you want me to walk you back to your place?? it’s pretty late out

you: yeah that’d be nice...hm you sure your hyung’s not gonna call a search party for you??

you’re teasing him and he just pouts

rocky: i’ll be fine

rocky walks you back to your apartment and it’s a little?? awkward??

but before you bid him goodbye he’s like: uh...the kiss earlier...sorry if I surprised you

your cheeks are hot again: it’s um...it’s okay, I didn’t mind it...it was actually pretty nice...I guess...

and rocky’s heart skips a beat and now he’s blushing: yeah...it was...i’ll see you in class then??

you: yeah, i’ll see you. text me when you get home okay?

he nods and waits until you’re safely inside and then he just starts grumbling to himself

rocky: i’ll see you in class?? could i say anything more stupid???

rocky’s adorable okay

him texting you when he gets back: im home :)

you: that’s good! good night rocky :)

he goes to the guys the day after like: i have a predicament !! me and y/n kissed !!

jinjin: that’s why you were late last night??

eunwoo: you dirty dog, doing it in the dance studio??

rocky: we didn’t do anything else hyung !!

bin: so did you ask them out??

rocky: no...i said...i’ll see you in class

myungjun: i’ll see you in class?!?! are you an idiot??

sanha: hyung even I’d ask y/n out after that

rocky: i know !! im dumb okay!! help me

sanha: you’re a lost case sorry

jinjin: why don’t you start with, hey y/n do you wanna get some food with me??

rocky: AHHHH

yes he does want to ask you out, yes he does want to kiss you again more than he’d like to admit, but he’s shy

you’re not faring any better, you and roommate were literally talking about it all weekend

the next time you see rocky (in class), you two are awkward as fuck

you both keep stealing glances at each other and then if one of you get caught, you both immediately look away

those 50 minutes of class could not go by any slower

and you were so ready to book it after the professor dismissed you but then you hear rocky call your name

rocky: hey y/n, are you free right now?

you: uh yeah! why what’s up

rocky: do you...um...wanna get some coffee with me?? or food or something??

you: do you mean like just to hang out or...uh like a date?

rocky: a date...if you want it to be

and cue the blushies again

you and rocky end up going to this cute cafe and get smoothies bc neither of you were feeling caffeine at the moment

and the whole time you two are just ??? so cute and shy and awkward with each other ???

which is such a contrast from how you two would dance together

rocky’s so sweet, really the cutest boy

gives you so many butterflies

the two of you end up going on little cafe dates before practice

and you’re all cute and wholesome

and then he turns all passionate and dominant when you start dancing

like wow alright rocky giving you whiplash or whatever

when you show the routine for your midterm, the teacher and other students give you both high praises

and he’s all giddy after class and he goes up to you: i think its safe to say that we have really good chemistry when we work together, don’t you think?

you’re smiling hehe but you wanna mess with him a little: hmm i think we’re alright, but who knows, i might mesh well with someone else

and then he’s all frowny, a little jealous: what do you mean someone else? do you make out with someone who just has alright chemistry with you??

your eyes go wide and you put your hand over his mouth: im kidding!!

rocky just smirks at your embarrassed reaction and he like tickles your sides

and then he just grabs your hand like: don’t find another dance partner y/n, just be mine

how could you say no to that??? especially when rocky’s just looking all handsome and charming and shit??? exactly. you can’t and why would you ever say no in the first place??

you and rocky dating?? biiiig news in the dance department

and even outside of it

bc lowkey rocky had a bit of a fanclub bc of how good he is at dancing, are we shocked? no

the boys are so happy for him !!

you meet his friends literally the day the two of you start dating

and you’re a bit nervous meeting them bc ofc you want them to like you, they’re his friends

but they’re so sweet...and headass

when rocky brings you to their dinner, the five of them literally start applauding at your entrance

you were so confused and rocky’s just out here with second hand embarrassment

he’s the cutest boyfriend

shy with pda in public (unless you’re dancing), most he’ll do is hold your hand

but in private he’s very clingy

loves backhugging you

he also tickles you when he wants to be a little shit

which is 50% of the time

very playful bf, will tease you at least once every day

if you two are just practicing dancing, he’ll make any sort of excuse to hold you or kiss you

asddfadsjf he’s so cute

gets very soft at night especially when you two are worn out from practice

just wants to go back to your (or his) apartment and cuddle and sleep

imagine just you two cuddling in bed after hours of dancing and he’s just spooning you and he mumbles tiredly into your shoulder: you’re amazing y/n...you’re one of the best dancers i’ve ever seen

and before, his pride would have never allowed him to say that, but now it can

not really one for pet names in my opinion, but he does call you “my y/n”

after you two start dating, you begin to call him by his real name, minhyuk

or you say hyukie

he lowkey loves it when you call him that, it’s so endearing

the guys teasing him, cooing at rocky all gross like : heyyy hyukkie

then rocky just like crosses his arms: only y/n can call me hyukie

he didn’t realize he loves couple dances so much until you and him are dating

well he only loves it because you’re his partner ofc

alright hear me out !! slow dancing with rocky

slow !! dancing !! with !! rocky !!

he dims the lights in the dance studio until it’s just a single spotlight and some slow romantic music comes on and he just grabs you by the hand and twirls you once before pulling you close and you’re just swaying side to side

and then he presses your foreheads together and he’s just looking into your eyes and gives you the softest smile

!!! im freaking out!! i want this so bad !!

that’s how the first i love you comes out

surprise, you say it first

okay but like in the moment, the atmosphere is literally so perfect, and you can just see how much he treasures you and you always feel butterflies whenever he does this, but there was just something that night that made you say it

like your chest was constricting so hard and you were thinking to yourself, i love this man

and so you just said it

and omg the smile on rocky’s face just widens and he kisses you so sweetly before he says it back

loves kissing you, your lips are like a drug to him

can literally make out with you for hours

has pushed you against the walls of the practice room just for a little make out session

ahhh here we go ladies and gents

sex !! with !! rocky !!

first and foremost, dance studio sex??? yes

especially if it’s just you two late night practicing like the first time you kissed?

mirror kink? maybe so

and bc y’all are ~flexible~, you bet he likes bending your back like a pretzel

he’s a very passionate lover, your pleasure is his #1 priority

loves foreplay just as much as the main event

but oof his hips?? grrrrr bark bark ram me over with a truck

his stroke game is so good

literally knows how to fuck you in all the right places

and his stamina??? god tier, can go at it for hours on end

into edging and overstimulation, oof you bet you’re cumming at least twice during every session

i cannot stress this enough!! thigh riding

you know he has thighs of steel

will make you cum just from riding his thigh

most of the time you guys start off slow and sweet, and then just boom it turns it hard sex

will definitely get turned on from doing a sexy dance routine

the amount of times he’s wanted to just fuck you in the middle of class bc you turned him on?? but ofc he has public decency he won’t do that

he knows you get turned on from his fingers oops

anal or vaginal fingering?? he’s all for it baby

he’s loud during sex, all the grunting, huffing, growling, oo im getting chills

not afraid to tell you how good you’re making him feel

not really into spanking, but he grips a lot, like his fingernails have definitely left some deep imprints in your hips or your ass

hair pulling?? yes, both sides receiving

okay but if you call him rocky during sex? big turn on

i can’t explain why, it just is

favorite position?? cowgirl

he loves when you’re on top of him

yes he likes seeing you try to fuck yourself on him

and then when he can’t take it anymore and just grabs your hips and thrusts up into you until your body literally collapses on him

he always tries to make you cum first but oops sometimes baby just busts a nut

yes you will probably tease him about it and then he’ll just shut you up by kissing you

on another note, no way to turn rocky on faster than sucking on his bottom lip when you’re kissing

will cuddle you after cumming, like he doesn’t care if either of you are sweaty or messy, he’s hugging you for at least five minutes

honestly becomes a baby after sex so it’s more like you’re giving him after care sksksk

the switch he makes from being a sex fiend to a clingy cuddly boy? whiplash

like you need to go to the bathroom to pee or something and he’s like: but...i wanna hug u

i would risk it all for rocky yes

anyway after graduating, rocky becomes a choreographer for this really famous dance studio and get recruited to join a highly-competitive dance troupe

you both do long distance for a little bit bc obviously he’s back home but you have to travel with your group for competitions, sometimes even internationally

and so that caused some strain in your relationship bc distance sucks, but you would always make sure to call him every night before going to bed and despite any time zone difference, he would always answer

your biggest supporter !! literally flew out to surprise you during a big dance competition in london or whatever and you cried happy tears bc was he really there right now??

that’s when you knew that he was the one :’)

you spent the night w him in his hotel room and after a good couple rounds of reunion sex, you were like trying to test the waters a little bit: i missed you hyukie

rocky: i missed you too, but now that you’re here with me, nothing else matters

you: what do you really think about this long distance thing??

rocky: it sucks...but i know it made us stronger. i feel like we can get through anything now

you: yeah, i agree

rocky getting paranoid: omg why? are you thinking of living abroad?? y/n, do i need to start looking at dance studios out here??

you have to hold in your laughter bc he’s so cute: why? would you move out of the county for me if i wanted to??

rocky: i mean...if you’re thinking of leaving for good...then yeah.

he gets so shy and quiet and you’re just !! wow you love him !! he’s yours !!

you kiss him shortly and you smile: no, i’m not gonna live abroad. I miss being home and I miss seeing you all the time. I told you before, I’m thinking of leaving the troupe in two months and then gonna find a job back home for good.

he lets out a sigh of relief: you scared me a little

you just laugh: I only wanted to confirm something and hmm I was right

rocky: what did you wanna confirm??

you being a confident baddie: that I wanna be with you for the rest of my life

rocky feeling his heart implode: you mean it??

you scoffing: why would I be lying about this?

he just laughs and kisses you: I wanna be with you too...I’ve been thinking it since the last time you visited. How much I love you and how much I hated seeing you leave for who knows how long, but I didn’t wanna say anything bc you’re still living your life and I didn’t want a promise like this to influence you to come back if you didn’t want to yet.

two months later you’re back for good and move in with rocky

you end up becoming a choreographer at his dance studio too

you and rocky: the couple™

and you live happily ever after

somewhere down the line...

sanha: hey remember when you two hated each other?

eunwoo: remember when you injured y/n??

bin: remember when you freaked out to us about your first kiss together

myungjun: and you said i’LL sEe yOu iN cLaSs

jinjin: those were fun times, right hyukie?

rocky: i hate you all

__________________________________________________

2-16-21

130 notes · View notes

bitch-butter · 3 years ago

Note

hello! can i request "You didn't do anything wrong, there's nothing to apologize for" for any ship of your choosing? or any AU you want? i just really love how your writing flows, it's so cohesive-- don't take this the wrong way but like. i adore sitting down and actually analyzing your stuff structurally? seeing how it works and weaves together to make a whole just makes the shriveled up eng lit major inside me really happy.

w o o f this one ran away from me a little bit, it incorporates some Things I was thinking of re: forgiveness/webgott last month, and it's bit different than pure H/C but I hope you find something to like in it! Thank you for your lovely compliment~

Yes, it's webgott bc i am chained to The Rhythm

4. "You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to apologize for."

He cleared the drawer once more, eyes scanning into its dark corners for any sign of a missed sock, undershirt, some hidden treasure that he had many years ago deemed worthy of being put in the back of the underwear drawer. Raising his brows, Joe shook his head at himself as he closed it resolutely, tossing his bounty into his pack and stuffing the top with the sack that contained his bathroom shit.

Even remembering the days he used to be able to leave the house with just his keys made him want to sigh like a goddamn cow in the summertime. Now he needs the bag, the car, and Web just to go across the bay.

Speak of the devil, Web padded into the bedroom with his usual September expression: weary, exhilarated, slightly frustrated. Wordlessly, he crossed past Joe to the bed and slumped face-first onto it with a groan.

“Done?” Joe questioned, zipping up the bag.

Making a soft grunt of a sound, Web curled his arms around his head. “Done,” he said, face mashed against the bed.

“Well, get to it,” Joe said, stepping over to land a light smack against Web’s ass and grinning at the outraged whine he got in response. “Don’t want to be late,” he tossed over his shoulder as he stepped back out to the hall, making for the kitchen.

Even out here he can hear the sound Web makes, somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“No you didn’t!” Joe called back, grabbing the butter left on the counter and shoving it in the fridge, letting his eyes make one final sweep around the kitchen. “If you don’t show your reputation won’t ever recover.”

“Your mother loves me,” Web toned, and Joe couldn’t help a snicker as he moved through the hall back to the bedroom, where Web had at least moved to lay on his back, knees up. “She wouldn’t care, she’d probably let me move in with her if you ever kicked me out.”

Rolling his eyes, Joe stood at the food of the bed, arms folded. “Not with Yom Kippur, you’re not allowed to fuck around. She was happy you said you wanted to come, you don’t want to disappoint her.”

Heaving out a long breath, Web folded his hands behind his head, eyes lowered as he peered down at Joe. His knees tilted just so, his lips quirking, and Joe could see the fucking thought forming in his head before he had a chance to open his mouth.

“No.”

“We have time,” Web said, extending one leg to poke his toes into the left side of Joe’s stomach.

Clicking his tongue, he took hold of the other man’s ankle, giving it a soft pull and smiling in satisfaction as Web tried to pull it back to no avail. “If you think I’m going to miss my last fucking meal just to fuck you then you have another thing coming, alright?”

With a disgruntled twist of his lips Web pulled his leg in again, a little jerk that ushered Joe down onto the mattress as well. “You weren’t this dedicated last year,” he noted lightly, free of the reproach that might have accompanied the words if his family had said them.

Shaking his head, Joe decided to throw Web a bone and settled beside him, at least staying up on his elbows. “Different places,” he said simply.

Web looked up at him fondly, hand coming up to smooth over Joe’s hairline, sweeping it back and trailing behind his ear. “So, how will we spend tonight, then?” he asked quietly, eyes still following along where his hand moved. “If not in bed.”

Breath going slow with the contact, he tilted his head into the touch contentedly. “Well, tonight we’re going to eat like kings, Rach will probably be trying to get drunk in the pantry and hoping nobody notices, we’ll sleep in the attic, then tomorrow we spend a lot of fucking time at the synagogue.”

“And we don’t eat,” Web stated, assured.

“No eating, no drinking,” Joe nodded, brow furrowing at the sight of an eyelash on the other man’s cheek, reaching for it mindlessly.

Humming, Web closed his eyes to accommodate him. “Does this have a corresponding Catholic holiday I can retrofit in my mind?”

“I don’t know, you guys got a day where you feel really guilty about everything?” he asked, presenting the lash to Web balanced on the tip of his finger.

Blinking, Web frowned thoughtfully. “Birthdays.”

“Make your wish, you prick,” Joe grumbled, holding back his smile as Web grinned up at him, pausing momentarily before blowing the lash away into the room. Indulgently, he moved in closer, cupping the warmth of Web’s face in his palm and looking down on him with a feeling as close to serenity as he ever has here, in their bed, the sunlight coming in through their window.

Web returned his gaze, his own hand tracing along the back of Joe’s neck. “Do you confess?”

“Sure.”

“Alone?”

“All together,” he corrected, absently rubbing at the spot on Web’s cheek where he had plucked the lash. “You recite it, while you do this,” he said, shifting gently to bring his hand down to Web’s chest, knocking gently against him, just above his heart, with a loose fist.

Web watched his fist, a bemused smile growing over his lips. “Why?”

Settling his hand over the spot, Joe rubbed gently at him. “To punish your heart.”

Smile stilling over his face, Web absorbed his words with quiet interest, eyes floating down along Joe’s neck to the dark burrow of his chest where it pressed against the bed. “Isn’t the sinning hurt enough?”

Trust Web to try to loop him into a conversation about semantics of all fucking things. He must be more anxious to start his classes than Joe thought. “I don’t know,” he half-shrugged, eyes on his own hand over Web’s heart. “If you’re the sort who doesn’t like hurting people, maybe.”

Web nodded, accepting, smile turning more wistful, thoughtful “That’s nice, to be able to get it all out of the way at once.”

“What, you turned in a paper late?” Joe teased.

Flicking behind Joe's ear, Web looked up at him balefully, just a touch of that familiar humor at the edge of his mouth, like a dimple made of light. “I’d apologize to you, obviously.”

Huffing out a surprised laugh, Joe looked discerningly down at him. “You got something you want to tell me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Web shook his head softly, hand curling around his neck once more and seeming to anchor him down even further, their faces close enough to see the earnest upset around the angles of the other man’s eyes. “You know.”

Web does this. Likes to see monsters where there are none, invent storm clouds heading for them, and it makes him behave like a child sometimes and a man others. He’s a contrarian, down even past his bones and into the dust of the universe that lived in his being, it is an unchangeable fact. Telling him that there’s nothing to worry about accomplished nothing at the best of times.

Not that it’s ever stopped him trying.

“You don’t have to apologize to me for a fucking thing,” Joe rebuked solidly, hand moving from Web’s heart to his head, fingers resting just north of the delicate point of his hairline. “Sincerely.”

“I do, I…” Web parried, eyes unyielding where they looked up into Joe’s, somehow free of the sort of conflict he contained when he started thinking he and Joe had different opinions. “I know that this isn’t easy, dealing with me. And you do,” he continued, and this close he can see the way his eyes are stuck on his lips, the thought filling him with affection. “And you’re amazing.”

Giving in, chest bowing in like the hull of a sinking ship, he caught Web’s lips with his own, a hot smack of a thing that stole his breath, gave it to Web, who in turn gave it back to him better, better. “You don’t have to apologize for living, doll,” he shook his head, their nose practically knocking. “That’s not the point.”

Web didn’t seem soothed by the kiss, still appearing occupied with some train of thought that sought to carry him off and away from Joe’s eyes. “I still think of it sometimes, you know.”

Joe frowned. “What?”

“That day,” Web said, as though it should be evident.

He has to pause and think. They’ve lived a lot of days together, not just these ones that they’ve spent in this apartment, but the ones they spent as voices over the phone, words on a page, men in uniforms hiding from each other like chameleons. How is he meant to know which day Web means from the thousands they’ve had?

Looking down, the blue of Web’s eyes reminds him absently of Austrian skies. Mountains.

Yes. He knows.

“I think sometimes I should apologize to you and never stop,” Web said gently, managing to keep hold of Joe’s eyes as they blinked back and forth and back and forth into the memory.

He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. Which isn’t to say he never does, but it’s been a time. If he concentrates he can still feel the sun on his neck, the unnatural sweatiness of his palms, how his face had somehow felt cold, waxy. Picturing the house, the dark guts of it with the man inside squirming like half-digested meat, still fills him with the primal sort of rage that only visits him in his dreams. All around the periphery of the memory is Web, that day he had decided that whoever David Webster was he wanted no part of it.

“It’s in the past,” he excused weakly.

Web pulled in a short breath, face carefully open. “I know it is.”

“So let it be.”

Frown deepening, Web’s brought his eyes back down, and even this small departure felt like shrapnel. Joe combed through his hair, rubbing at his scalp, jostling him enough to win his eyes back. Web opened his mouth, struggling, before settling into the intention. “Do you still think about it?”

“Of course,” he said dully, voice still caught somewhere in his memory.

“Do you ever think I owe you an apology?” Web asked, voice quiet and eyes steady.

The question drops through him like rain. He’s thought of that day hundreds of times, thousands. When he lets his mind walk back up that hill, shining in the sun like the cover of the storybooks his mother would read to him, it isn’t Web he’s thinking of. He thinks of a forest of trees, of the way that one can become millions, and those millions become legion. That day had been about a lot of things, he hadn’t ever intended for Web to be one of them.

Web has apologized to him in too many ways to count. But this memory is deeper than they are, the kind of wound that might close over but will still carry a piece of metal, even smaller than a sliver, nestled inside of them both.

Web gives him grief, for better and for worse. But he gives him peace, too. That’s all the apology he wants.

His silence has drifted over the room like fog, but Web looks at him with the sort of clarity that only a few years ago made him feel like a bug on a pin, but now simply makes him feel known.

“I’ll punish my heart for forgiveness tomorrow,” Web said softly, smile turning up his lips, hand against Joe’s neck.

Huffing, Joe shook his head, taking up Web’s mouth once more, briefly. “You have it,” he rasped, kissing just the corner of his lips, and then the soft heat of his cheek. “You’ve had it.”

Web smiled into the kiss, leaning up to press a matching one to Joe’s own cheek. “Good.”

Swallowing, he followed Web back down, their faces close. “Will you accept mine?”

A disbelieving laugh rumbled up Web’s throat, his head giving a dismissive shake as he gave Joe’s neck a hard rub. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he criticized, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

But they haven’t always been that lucky. This sort of luck isn’t a permanent state of being.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, before pausing momentarily. “Let’s say you forgive me for the first sin I haven’t committed yet.”

Laughing, Web took his hand from Joe’s skin, holding it up beside them in some offering. “Deal.”

“Deal,” Joe confirmed, taking his hand, giving it one firm shake, enough to gather up Web’s laugh, before bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across its back. “Now come on, let’s go.”

#technically ~rivers~#prompt #ask #webgott

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bookishofalder · 4 years ago

Quote

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

#adam driver x reader #adam Driver x you #adam driver #reader insert #reader x tom holland #fanfic #requests open #requested #fluff #angst

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chiwhorei · 4 years ago

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hi im back on my bullshit but just thinking about sucking tsukishima's dick in exchange for him to write your essay for you <3 you got an A so you keep going to him for help but then his demands get more extreme and oh no suddenly you're tied up in his bed with vibrators taped to your sensitive nipples and tsukkis's in front of you with his big dick in his hand and a camera in the other. it's all a little overwhelming but anything for an easy A, right? (sincerely a fellow english major)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TSUKKI-DUDE

a/n: oh my god YOUR MIND IS SO DEPRAVED 😩 okay, so i happen to have a roommate tsukki headcannon that i live in that i will unleash onto this idea like hellfire.

Genre: college au, smut- there is nothing sweet or fluffy in this at all, this is all just nasty

Warnings: 18+, characters are aged up, coercion, dumbification, hard dom!tsukki, rough sex, toys, public sex, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, i think that’s it

Easy A

you and tsukki are roommates and have some of the same classes bc your majors are similar

there’s always been hoards of sexual tension between the two of you, you’re always walking around the apartment without pants and moaning like a pornstar when you play with yourself at night just so that tsukki can hear you from the other side of the wall

it pisses him off to no end and never misses a chance to call you a little slut, further enraged at the fact that you seem to be enjoying his harsh words

it starts out small, begging and pouting for him to give you the answers to an assignment due, you’re blowing up his phone and offering him anything

tsukki: i’ll give you the answers if you send me a picture of your tits

he really was just trying to shut you up and get you to bother someone else but as he saw you typing back his breath hitched in his throat

you: that’s all? 😌

as soon as the image rolls in on his screen, his cheeks turn bright red, because it’s not just a tiddie pic, no no

you’re a go big or go home kinda gal (and a slut who happens to think about getting rawed by said roommate on the daily anyway)

so now he’s in a lecture hall staring at his dimmed screen, blouse pushed up and black, lacy bra pulled down with your perfect tits on full display (i am an extra whore so i also image him seeing a cute pair of nipple rings and losing his fucking mind)

he sends you the answers, trying to feel like he won but knowing that this little game has just begun

that night he can’t help but looking at that picture while palming at his painfully hard cock

you have a big essay due over King Lear and you and tsukki are working on it in a study room in the library, the topic at hand is boring (king lear is... okay but like really not that great, writing a whole essay on the family dynamics and what Cordelia’s characters means is pain™️) so you decide to give tsukki your sweetest smile

“kei, if you finish my paper i’ll suck your cock.”

your tone is nothing short of pornographic, clicking your tongue for emphasis and tracing the pen in your hand around your wet lips

he tries to keep his cool, but his mind is racing

“you wouldn’t actually do that.” he tries to brush off your proposition but you double down, you check to make sure the door is locked and slide down to your knees and crawling to sit in between his legs

you rest your cheek against his thigh and raise an eyebrow

“please kei” 🥺 you give him a look that’s so sweet the moment becomes even more salacious

his head rolls back onto the back of his chair as you start stroking him lightly over is jeans

“fine. but i don’t feel like being gentle with you.”

he reaches over the table to grab your computer as you pull his already rock hard cock out, and as soon as you administer the first kitten lick to his tip, he’s wrapping your hair around his fist and pushing your head down his length.

after that first time, he decides that head in the library isn’t enough to pay for his services, he also wants to regain control over the situation so his requests get crazier, he wants to see how far he can push you

that’s how you find yourself in your shared british lit class with a bluetooth controlled vibrator shoved in your cunt

“what a dumb little cockwhore you are, i’ll write your paper if you can get through class without cumming those little panties” he says, pushing the toy inside before your walk to class

“miss y/n, can you read the next part please” your professor says and you know exactly what’s about to happen. from the side of your eye you see tsukki opening an app on his phone, turning the little toy on as soon as you begin reading

tsukki should feel a little bad about edging you to orgasm, he should feel bad that your shaking and dripping wet in the middle of a relatively small class

but he can’t help the blood rushing to his cock when someone asks you if you’re feeling okay in response to your pained expression and slightly watery eyes

he’s not a monster though, he makes sure to give his dumb little cockslut what she’s desperate for as soon as you get back to the apartment 😌

with finals approaching and a big protect due, tsukki knows you’ll be running to him for help, so he’s really gotta think of something quite special to due to you

and that’s how you find yourself tied up to his headboard with vibrators against your peirced, pert nipples, face already covered in spit and salty tears

tsukki lines himself up to your drooling entrance and can’t help but laugh at how far he can push you, all for a little help in class

he coos at the expression on your face, too fucked stupid for words- just how he likes you

his voice is sickeningly sweet, tone matching his sadistic grin, as he raises up his phone and clicks record while pushing in to your tight little cunny

“say hi to the camera, doll face”

everyone go say 10 hail mary’s and grab a large glass of water,

amen😇🙏🏽

Sinners Anonymous

#tsukishima smut #haikyuu smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukkishima kei #saint dymphna speaks #sinners anonymous #dymph’s moots #happy birthday tsukki #haikyuu asks #tw: coercion #tw: dumbification

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afoolnottoloveu · 4 years ago

Text

kiss you until your lips turn blue ♡

Summary: Reader’s first impression and first date with a handsome stranger (WC: 1.3k) {Masterlist <3}

Pairing: Spencer Reid x she/her!Reader

TW: none!

A/N: this is the first in my “series” (but not rly bc theyre not gonna be one storyline) of dodie song imagines :-) bolded lines are direct lines from the song, but there are some subtler references so i do recommend listening to the song before/after(/during? do yall listen to music while u read cause i cannot)

Song Pairing: Absolutely Smitten - dodie

she knew this feeling all too well. looking at him across the room, his brow furrowing in a look she’s never seen associated with that book, the book that had to be ancient. the library she worked at had a very special section dedicated to those types of books, but she rarely went there. but him, he seemed to have a connection to that section. maybe she would have to go there more often. she didn’t believe in love at first sight, not even fate. but god, was she infatuated. his long brown curls, his accentuated features. he looked like an absolute dork, honestly. a handsome dork, who was also an absolute stranger. an absolute stranger who was now walking over to her as she was still staring at him, oh god.

luckily for her, he was having a real hard time holding all his books, keeping his gaze on them and not her. “hi, i’d like to check these out please,” his voice was higher than she had anticipated, but she wasn't one to judge. she barely had a voice right this second. he had to have had at least 15 books, ranging all over the spectrum, from classical literature, to foreign novels, to science-y looking books, (she was an english major, if that wasn’t obvious). poor dorky stranger looked like he’d need some help. “are these all for you, love?” the nickname spilling from her lips before she could think. she did the smallest wince she could manage because he was looking at her now with those gorgeous brown eyes and she was hoping, praying he didn't notice the wince nor the nickname. (spoiler alert: he noticed. both.) “uh-um y-yeah, they are,” he gave a small chuckle. “you know you have to return all of these within 2 weeks, right?” “i’ll probably be back in 1” she gave him a wide-eyed stare. as much as she loved books, she could probably finish at most 3 in a week. was this guy some superhuman? “well, do you need help carrying these back to your car? i couldn’t help but notice you struggling to carry them to this counter,” she giggled, causing a flush to spread across the stranger’s face. “that’d be great,” he grinned, causing her heart to swell. well, handsome stranger, you have turned her insides into jelly. - tonight was her first date with handsome stranger, spencer reid. after he came back the third time, and the third time of helping him carry books back to his car, they both seemed to have the same idea, asking each other to get a cup of coffee at the same time. she still had work after that, but today was the day for that cup of coffee. (she couldn't really refer to him as handsome stranger anymore, but it felt right, so she would continue to call him that in her head.) she looked in the mirror on her apartment wall, wearing a golden sundress and a large brown overcoat. it was mid-september; not too hot nor cold, but DC tended to have a killer breeze that she was always sensitive to. this had to be at least her third outfit change, and she thought she looked okay, but an image of him popped in her head. handsome stranger, you have made her wonder if she’s pretty. (pretty enough for someone as pretty as him, anyways. how ironic.) she took a deep breath and a good look in the mirror. ‘he’s made you smitten. absolutely smitten.’ and with that thought, she quickly headed out the door before she could change her mind. ~ she had told spencer she was taking him to a ‘surprise,’ but from the walk there, spencer had already guessed where they were going. the pre-surprise coffee was delightful; the two talked about an awful lot of books, other things amongst. he was a freaking FBI agent! not only that, but he was a profiler; he read people for a living. what a job. she asked him how he could possibly finish 15 books in a week-she thought it was a joke when he said that at the time. his response just baffled her even more. ‘i have an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words per minute and have 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.’ she wanted to pick this man’s brain. maybe handsome stranger wasn’t so poorly fit after all, what did she really even know about this superhuman? she, on the other hand, was a freaking librarian, one of the most boring jobs out there. well, not to the two of them. she actually adored her job. she was still working on her masters degree on her off time, but it was great easy money and the old lady she worked with, gina, was like another grandma. spencer mentioned wanting to volunteer sometime, but his work schedule was hectic, cases taking him across the country at the oddest times.

the two of them approached the library and she stuck the smallest key from her key ring into the door to unlock it. it was about 8pm on a sunday, and luckily the store closed an hour prior, leaving it to their devices.

“is this allowed?”

“don’t worry, love; gina co-owns the library, i’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” she flashed him a smile, causing him to blush.

the library was tiny, probably the size of a high school one. she lead him over to the checkout desk and looked for the microphone somewhere underneath the table. with the tiny building, she only needed to use it in case of emergency, closing warnings when it was packed, that sort of thing.

“so, can you dance?” she questioned as she placed the microphone atop the desk. all spencer did was get wide-eyed, so she would assume the answer was no. “that’s alright, that’s never stopped me before.” and at that, she pressed play on her phone and placed it next to the mic. a soft instrumental began to play over the speakers as she quickly skipped to one of the corners and plugged something in. suddenly, the hanging string of lightbulbs lit up, giving the place a beautiful dim glow.

“wow,” she heard spencer breath at the setting.

“do you like it? i wanted to dance around the room, i hope you don’t mind.”

that caused spencer to look at her with an expression she could not read for the life of her.

“c’mon, you asked me if i could dance,” ignoring the question, he stuck out his hand for her to take, which she did with a smirk and a giggle.

leading her to in front of the desk, the two swayed to the soft melody. he placed his hands on her waist as respectfully as possible as she wrapped her arms around his neck, even though the height difference was significant. once the rhythm seemed natural to the two of them, she laid her head on his chest, and spencer did his best not to flinch.

“didn’t you say you were something of a germaphobe? is this okay, love?” she whispered. all he could do was nod, and he was being honest. he felt safe.

once the song changed to something older that he couldn’t quite place his finger on, he leaned his head back, causing her to look up.

looking into her almost pleading eyes, he was the one who whispered this time. “can i kiss you?”

she wanted to respond ‘you can kiss me until your lips turn blue.’ instead, she opted for a nod. and then, her world stopped spinning and time froze. his lips were on her own, and she hated to admit it to anyone but herself, but this was a new feeling to her. it was a welcome one at that, though.

once pulled away, he recognized the song. it’s almost as if everything was a little bit clearer after he kissed her. they continued to sway to the new song, at last by etta james. she didn’t know, but he realized, he’ll never let you go. and she, well let’s just say she may believe in fate.

Taglist: @bxbyspxncer @yesimaunicorn @pumpkin-goob @prettyboy-reid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #cm fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #spencer reid x oc #theas originals

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hawkbucks · 4 years ago

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is- is that royal aus post some ask prompt thing? bc if so I would just die for some of that muse playboy tony and instructor bucky au please say yes 🥺🥺🥺 also I love your aus so much!!!

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. Little openings, little hesitations, little mistakes, all those could mean the difference between carrying on in battle or being run through with a sword, and considering that his pupil is none other than Antonio Stark, heir to the Stark throne, Muse of the Valley, Ever-Ethereal, the Golden Heart, and 6 other superfluous, flowery titles, he would really rather like it if Antonio weren’t impaled on a blade should he have to partake in any conflict.

It’s James’ job to notice the little things. That’s why he can see the way Antonio oh-so-subtly sticks out his backside whenever he approaches. He can see the way Antonio looks up at him through his lashes, fluttering them coyly. He can see the way Antonio chews on his bottom lip, leaving it bright red and plump and shiny.

(Okay, those aren’t exactly little things--Antonio may as well be shouting his interest across the kingdom--but the point still stands that James notices them.)

James can see all of that. And he’s not interested.

(He may be a little interested. Antonio is a beautiful young man; there’s a reason he’s heard many men and many women lamenting the fleeting time they have spent with the young prince, but it would be a major breach of his ethics if he were to get involved with a student of his, no matter their beauty.)

“I do believe this is the fifth time I’ve had to correct your stance, Your Highness,” James says as he stands behind Antonio, ignoring the way the young Prince presses his back against his chest. “You’re holding your sword far too high.” With a gentle hand, he reaches over and grips Antonio’s forearm, lowering his arm. “Relax your grip. It’s too tight.”

“Many people have said they like my tight grip,” Antonio disclosed, tone on the lascivious side.

James scoffs. Heat rises up on his cheeks. He’s glad Antonio isn’t facing him. “I’m sure they have,” he responds, putting as much neutrality into his voice as possible. “Unfortunately for you, your sword doesn’t.” He looks down. “Spread your legs further apart.”

“How forward of you, Sir Barnes,” Antonio teases as he does so. “Not even an offer of dinner first?”

“Focus,” James grunts, the heat spreading to his ears. Lord, but he wishes that Antonio was more dutiful, more concerned with his training than unlacing James’ breeches. “I’ll be sparring with you personally today.”

He doesn’t need to see Antonio’s face to know that the man is smiling.

“Your shirt does not need to be unbuttoned,” James blusters.

Antonio winks at him, undoing the third button on his shirt. “It makes it easier for me to move, sir Barnes.” His hands fall to his sides, and James can see the way his chest is framed, tan skin a compliment to the madder-dyed fabric.

James’ throat clicks as he swallows. He bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Very well. If you feel like it would help.”

“It will.”

James unsheathes his own sword and tosses it into the air, catching it by the hilt. Cocky. “It won’t.”

Antonio ends up below him, splayed in the dirt, the tip of James’ sword settling underneath his chin. “Do you not pay attention to anything I teach you?” James asks, affronted and frustrated. “Every move I made could have been easily deflected. If you were more concentrated on your training and not on trying to b--”

James’ back hits the ground as his feet fly out from under him, eyes going wide.

Antonio crawls on top of him and straddles his stomach, the edge of his blade pressing against the skin of James’ throat. “Maybe if you were not running your mouth,” he countered before getting up and laughing. “You should see your face.”

James shakes his head to regain a modicum of composure. “That was a dirty move, Your Highness.”

“If you really want to see a dirty move, you should join me in my quarters tonight.”

James sighs heavily. He lets his head hit the dirt.

“What will it take for you to visit me at night? It is cold when I am by myself,” Antonio whines, draping himself over the back of James’ chair and resting his chin on James’ shoulder. “You are but three summers older.”

“I’m still your teacher,” James says, taking a bite of his apple. “Three summers or not, you’re still my student.”

“And if I were not your student?”

James pushes the side of Antonio’s face lightly. “I may consider it.”

Antonio giggles.

Oh, Lord.

James’ blissful sleep is so rudely interrupted by knocking at his chamber door. “Sir Barnes?” someone calls out from the other side. He recognizes the voice as belonging to Sir Rhodes, Head Imperial Knight, and one of Antonio’s oldest childhood friends. “His Highness Antonio Stark requests your presence at the training grounds.”

James scrubs the side of his face with a hand and groans quietly. He squints his eyes, realizing that sun is not even shining through his drapes just yet. “Is His Highness aware that not even the roosters are up?”

“He is aware. He is also very persistent.”

“I see,” James grumbles. He likes to think he knows Antonio quite well--besides the knowledge he’s gained from the various rumors swirling around the castle and the kingdom--and he just knows this has something to do with the conversation he and Antonio had a few days ago. “Tell him I’ll join him in a handful of minutes.”

“Very well, Sir Barnes.”

“James!” Antonio calls out, waving from his spot in the middle of a ring of lit candles. They barely provide any meaningful light, but they do well in helping James find out where Antonio is.

“Do you have any idea what time is it?” James asks in lieu of a greeting, mouth shaped into a frown.

Antonio leers at him. “Was I interrupting any dreams?”

“No.”

Antonio waves a dismissive hand, then cocks his hips. “Pity. As it stands, do you remember what you said to me? About how if I were not your student--”

“I’d consider courting you?” James finishes, raising an eyebrow.

Antonio nods enthusiastically. “Yes! I have chosen to take the route where I, the student, become the master, and therefore you wouldn’t have to be my tutor anymore. Then, we may--”

James holds up an index finger, silencing Antonio. “If you become the master. I’ll consider yourself no longer under my tutelage once you can make me hit the ground three times. None of those dirty moves from last time.”

“Continue to teach me, sir Barnes, and I will tell you when I feel I am ready to challenge you in an honorable duel.” Antonio actually bows, showing respect that James is honestly unaccustomed to seeing from him.

Antonio, surprisingly, hasn’t flirted with James even once throughout the past couple of weeks that he has decided to take his training seriously. Not once has he attempted to unbutton his shirt, and not once has he found any excuse to press himself against James.

He listens to everything James tells him with rapt attention, and the fluidity and grace with which he moves is inspiring. Antonio has always been called a genius, a prodigy, and James is now starting to understand why. Few can learn at a rate like he can; his mind absorbs information like a sponge.

Antonio manages to block a couple blows.

James smiles at him, and Antonio smiles back.

Antonio’s sword comes down against the strong of James’ sword, and, before James has any time to react, Antonio grabs James’ blade with one of his hands and shoves his sword up until both of their rain guards are meeting, wrenching downwards and ripping James’ sword away from his hands.

“You’re learning!” James exclaims.

Antonio drops both of their swords and runs in for an excited hug.

James gladly accepts it.

Antonio’s back hits the dirt for the nth time. “I was so close,” he groans, rolling around without care for his garments. “I keep getting close, but you always do something!”

James helps him up. “We’ll work on it.”

James’ back hits the dirt. “Wow,” he says. “You didn’t have to kick me or anything.”

Antonio snorts. “That was one time. I have to do this two more times, right?”

“In a row.”

Antonio crosses his arms.

Antonio continues to learn, continues to improve. He starts to anticipate what James’ moves are going to be before he even makes them.

James will admit that he’s been going easy on the lad, but now he thinks he can ramp it up a bit, make him sweat, make him work for it.

Antonio lands on his ass so many times that he calls for a break in the middle of the session, saying he needs to go sit on a cushion for a while.

James laughs heartily, then offers to grab Antonio a pillow, granted he doesn’t try to sit on it in the dirt.

“We’ll duel in a week!” Antonio promises as he runs into the castle to get himself firmly planted on that plush chaise lounge he has in his quarters.

James lands on his stomach, sword clattering a foot away.

“Two more times, right?” Antonio asks from above, sounding positively giddy. They’re both drenched in sweat, and Antonio has some dirt smeared on his cheekbone.

“Two more times,” James agrees, pushing himself back up.

This time, it’s James who lands on his ass. “Where did that come from?” He’s kind of in shock. The move that Antonio pulled off is sure as hell not one that he taught him.

“I can think on the fly,” Antonio says. “One more time?”

Lord, James thinks, Antonio might actually win this. Not that James would mind, honestly. These past few weeks have really... opened him up to the idea of possibly having Antonio as a lover, although he’s still hesitant to start anything while Antonio is under his tutelage. Again, ethics.

Time slows down to a crawl as James falls once again. He swears to the Lord that he can see his life flash before his eyes, the pollen carried by the wind.

“Oh,” he groans as his back, indeed, hits the ground.

Antonio straddles his stomach, much like he did the first time. “I am going to be honest,” he chuckles, “I also got some training from Sir Rhodes.”

“That’s cheating,” James mutters, looking up at Antonio.

“Maybe, but I think I have proven that I no longer need you to tutor me, correct? It does not matter where my knowledge comes from, as long as I am able to apply it.” Antonio places his hands on either sides of James’ head, back dipping. He lowers his head, bringing his mouth closer to James’ until their breaths are mingling, then--

He sits up. “I enjoy daffodils,” he says, “and my favorite dish is beef bourguignon. I believe that would be sufficient enough information for you to court me?”

“You are a wretched creature,” James breathes out, eyes hooded.

Antonio takes James’ hands and guides them to his hips. “I have the utmost faith in you, Sir Barnes. Perhaps you will have me courted by the end of this month.”

#Me: Wow I love the name Antonio for Tony sure wish that was canon (in more universes).#Me: Wait this is an AU.#Me: I MAKE THE CANON.#Tony has buttons on his shirt that's how you know he's royalty.#winteriron #filled #There be some harlots in his household.#ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS!#I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY AU'S KLASJLDS #anon

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ddaenggtan · 5 years ago

Text

hearts on fire | jhs

Hoseok has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s beyond excited to see you married and glowing.

He just really wishes that he was the groom.

pairing | jhs x reader, knj x reader

word count | 6.5k | cross posted to ao3

genre | angst, light fluff

warnings | angst, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, lots of choking, lots of angst, this is open ended so like.......potential (?) mcd??, like this is very very very open ended yall there is no happy ending and there is zero satisfaction at the end, like it’s truly just here to hurt you

a/n | part of Outro: Tear, The Angst Now Told, and you should really read all of those fics bc they hurt so good but they’re sO WORTH IT, and i’m shouting out to @personawife not only for betaing this, but also for putting the Outro Tear Angst Collab together, because it’s been so fun!!!!! and yet so painful!!!! in so many good ways!!!!!!! this was honestly really fun to write, mostly because it’s rare that i write angst - unhappy ending angst, at that - so it was nice to stretch my creative muscles.

also go stream ego bc its wonderful and i love it

It starts, as most things do, with a kiss.

It was innocent enough - just a soft peck on his cheek and a sunflower in his hand while he cried about another student kicking him in the shin. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that did it for him. Maybe it was the way the sunlight lit up the barrettes in your hair and made them glint like stars. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t hesitated to smooch him on the cheek and give him the flower you’d picked out of a vase just to cheer him up. Maybe it was the fact that it had worked when nothing else had. Maybe it was none of that, instead something bigger altogether and more complicated than he could ever understand.

Or maybe it was all of it. A simple act that led to a simple reaction - him taking your hand and making you smile with some face he made - that led to this moment.

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches you walk down the aisle in the off-white dress with the golden sash that perfectly matches the sunflowers in your hands, he doesn’t care. Because it all led to this moment.

[then]

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You call over your shoulder. Hoseok laughs, wrapping his hand around your wrist to slow you down from your sprint.

“We are not going to be late,” He tells you firmly. Your lips form a pout that he wishes he could kiss away, but he resists the urge. Instead, he grins and pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s not like they’re going to start our graduation without us, Starshine. It would be a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, conspicuous, big word! All that studying paid off, I see.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes; he doesn’t mention that he’s been studying his ass off ever since you started crushing on one of the bookworms in the school. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that he did it in the futile hope that it would make you notice him.

“Hey, it was worth it! Got me into that fancy university, didn’t it?” He wags his brows and lets go of you, and he does his best not to let his arms linger around your waist for longer than they need to be there.

“Yeah, that fancy university that’s a million miles away from here,” You complain. His smile falters a little, and he covers it with a dramatic gasp.

“What’s this? Is my little starshine going to miss me?” He doesn’t tell you about the packet laying on his desk at home, about the scholarships he’s scoured the internet to find, about the decision he has yet to make, despite the looming deadline. He doesn’t mention the sunflower pressed between the pages of a book that sits beside his bed, so he can stare at it each night as he wonders whether it’s stupid to take the harder road just for love.

“You know I will, Hobi,” You tell him. You curl into his side, lacing your fingers with his. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Who’s going to make me study when I don’t want to? Or convince me that getting pancakes at two in the morning is a proper breakfast?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He knows exactly what will happen when you head off to school in a few months. You’ll meet so many new people, make boatloads of friends, create new memories and new jokes and new references, and he’ll be standing off to the side, waiting to hear about all of it.

He can’t wait to watch you flourish.

“Who’s going to help you stop stressing out about your choreography, or your routines?” You ask. Your voice dips into a whisper, and it’s the most scared he’s ever heard you. “Who’s going to be there when I need someone?”

He knows what you mean; he knows all about the anxiety that wracks your body every so often, the way your brain spirals and panics and can’t seem to bring itself down out of red alert. He remembers - in vivid detail - all the nights he’s climbed through your window to help you breathe in that rhythm your school counselor taught you, or just talked at you through the phone about some new song or dancer he found until he eventually heard your soft laugh.

He remembers the nights you called and called and called and eventually just sought him out, not even bothering to knock as you barged into his room because his parents adore you and don’t care to let you in whenever. You’re like a second daughter to them, something his sister gives him no end of grief about. He’ll always remember the way your hands felt against his skin as you tugged him out of his room and into the kitchen to make some kind of monstrosity, just throwing anything and everything into a blender or skillet, only to wind up going out to the corner store to get noodles anyway.

“I’ll be here,” He tells you. His voice is as soft and firm as his fingers as he brings your chin up to face him. He wants you to look at him, wants you to maybe see after all these years just how easy it would be for him to move the earth if you asked him to. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Your eyes search for something in his, and he wonders if you’ll finally realize. If he’s finally told you about every single pang of love that he’s ever felt without even needing words.

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and playfully shove at his shoulder. “Not when you’re off at your fancy university a million miles away from mine.”

He covers the heartbreak with a deep sigh and slings his arm around your shoulders as you head into the building where your graduation is being held. He wonders what you’ll think of the sunflowers sitting on your chair, waiting for you to find them.

Something tickles his throat, a hint of a cough not ready to be cleared, and he swallows it back.

“About that…”

[then]

Asthma is what he tells you, months and months later while you both sit in your dorm room, curled under blankets.

You’re preparing for your philosophy paper, pages and sheets and everything else strewn about your bed while he sits at your desk. The lamp is focused and bright as it shines on the metal and stone in his hands, glinting as he twists the wire this way and that.

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your dance eval?” You ask him. He shoots you that half-smile, a quick glance so that he can finish wrapping the quartz in his palm. He hasn’t told you that he switched majors, that he’s now ‘undecided’ simply because he can’t keep up with the others anymore.

“Aren’t you supposed to telling me who made it their mission to disprove Kant’s entire career?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” You pout. He smiles, satisfied, at the stone in his hand; it’s wrapped in wire shaped to look like a tree. He never thought he’d be the jewelry-making kind, but thanks to a randomly-selected elective, he’s discovered he’s got a knack for it.

Besides, he enjoys seeing the collection on your windowsill grow with each new thing he can make you.

He extends the quartz to you - a polished golden one that complements the tarnished brass he’d used to wrap it, the same colors as the flowers you love so much - and the way you light up as you take it makes his heart clench painfully.

Something tickles his throat, too familiar now, and he does what he can to swallow it down, but this one is stubborn. It forces its way up his windpipe, giving him no choice but to try to cough it up.

You watch, worried, as he rushes to the sink in your room, bending as far over it as possible so that you won’t see as much.

It’s small, when it falls. Small and unassuming and spit-slick, he can almost believe it just fell out of the vase of them nearby, and he hopes that’s what you’ll believe as well.

“Hobi?”

He hates how small your voice is, how worried you sound as you listen to the ragged pants of his breathing. So he wipes his mouth, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no blood, and turns back to you with a wry smile.

“I’m fine,” He says softly. His voice is still hoarse, and you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can argue. “Just asthma.”

“Asthma? You don’t have asthma, Hoseok-”

“I do,” He says quickly. “Developed recently. Strained myself too hard, weakened my lungs, or something. I don’t remember what the doctor said exactly.”

“But...your dance, how can you-” You cut yourself off with a sharp breath, and he can’t bear to see the heartbreak in your eyes as the realization hits, so he stares down at the scuff in his sneakers instead. “That’s why you aren’t practicing right now. You had to drop out of the dance program?”

You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, so he plasters a smile on his face that’s more convincing than anything else he’s ever done.

“It’s fine, Starshine. Not all dreams come true. Besides, there’s other things I can do.”

“But your scholarship, Hobi, I-”

“Already figured out,” He says quickly. It isn’t, not nearly, because he can’t just call his parents to say ‘hey I lost my scholarship because I’m hopelessly in love but don’t have the guts to say anything about it’ and he hasn’t had time to go visit them, either. The corners of your mouth are turned down, and your lips are pressed together, and it’s obvious you’re upset, and it hurts more than the roots tangling in his lungs.

He crosses the room and slides some of your papers to the side so that he can sit across from you. You’re still holding the quartz in your palm, fingers wrapped gently around it like you’re afraid it’ll break if you squeeze too tight, so he wraps his own hands around that one of yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him. Your voice is small and hurt, and he hates that he made it that way, but he knows it’s better than what would come if he told you the truth.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” He replies quietly. “You’ve got exams and studying and papers to worry about. I don’t need to add to that. Besides, you’d just try to help somehow, and you do that enough as it is.”

“How could I possibly be helping you with this, Hoseok?” The look you give him is familiar and humorless and fond and it makes his throat tickle so he looks away. Stares down at the feather-soft blanket in your lap instead.

“Just by being here,” He tells you. “Distracting me from it. It’s not important, that’s all. I can do other things.”

“Like what? Dancing has always been your dream, and now-”

“Like,” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the quartz from your hand and placing it with the other things he’s made you on the windowsill, “Making things, like this. For you. For everyone.”

You’re quiet for a minute. Your eyes linger on the collection of stones he’s decorated for you, that he’s worked on so carefully to make them as beautiful as you deserve, and he wonders if you can tell.

If you can see it in every careful twist of wire, in the way his hands are always so gentle against your own, in the way he can’t bear to look at you for longer than a few moments but can’t bear to be away from you in the same way.

“Well,” You eventually say, blinking back what might be tears. “I suppose we’ll just have to find you a new dream, then, won’t we?”

Your smile is weak and watery and doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s still a smile. So he returns it, and locks his pinky with yours, and vows to himself to make sure you never cry for him again.

[then]

"What is that?"

Hoseok looks up from the book he's got propped against the table. He hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation, too engrossed in the metalworking book his glassblowing professor gave him while you studied for an upcoming test, so your words surprise him.

"What's what?" He asks, looking around the cafeteria as if he can magically spot whatever it is you're talking about.

" That ," you repeat, stabbing towards him with your pencil. It's reflex that brings his hand up to his chest, and it's realization that has him clutching the pendant tightly, praying you hadn't really seen it.

"Nothing," he says quickly, tucking it back under his shirt where it's supposed to be. "Just a practice thing."

"Why won't you show me?" You pout. "You always show me your practice work."

"Yeah, because you always take it," He quips back with a laugh. You don't even try to argue, because you both know it's true. The collection on your windowsill has grown immeasurably over the last two years, and it makes Hoseok's heart stutter every time he lets himself consider why you keep all of them. Especially when some are so terrible.

"Seriously, Hobi, can I see?"

He starts to say no, because if there's one piece he's ever made that could tell you about his feelings, it's this. He should say no, should insist this once that you can't see it, but before he can, his hands are pulling the chain over his head and setting the entire thing gently in your palm.

He watches your mouth fall open and your eyes grow wide and he wonders.

He wonders what you see among the curl of metal; if the fact that he would do anything for you is obvious in the way it twists and turns on itself, looping around and around. He wonders if you can see, hidden between letters, how just being near you gets him through every day and makes it all worth it. He wonders if you'll be able to tell, between the pressed yellow petals, just how his chest aches; if you've put the pieces together, after so long, now that you're holding his heart so openly in your palm.

"'Remedy,'" You read, and Hoseok's heart jumps into his throat, even when he knows you don't know about it. "And some tulip petals? It's so gorgeous, Hobi, but what does it mean?"

"They're sunflowers," He corrects, almost scandalized that you could confuse the two. The petals are shortened, of course, cut so that they'll fit into the pendant without obstructing the text in the back, but still. "And it doesn't mean anything. Just something I wrote once in high school."

Your eyes light up. "You mean that poem you never let me read?"

"It was a song, actually," He mutters, but your attention is back on the necklace, looking for any hints about the secrets he keeps. Something soft tickles the back of his throat when you glance up at him and smile, the light glinting just right along the stones and casting golden beams along your features.

You look more beautiful than he's ever seen, and his chest aches with more than just the flowers taking root there.

"This is really gorgeous, Hobi," You tell him as you watch the way the light reflects through the amber beads along the edge.

"Yeah," He whispers as he watches you, drinking in the way your eyes widen in awe and the soft smile on your lips. "It is, isn't it?"

He wishes that moment could last forever, that he could tuck it away into a pocket and pull it out whenever he needs it, but he can feel the flower starting to work its way up his throat and he doesn't know how to hide that from you.

The coughs start right as someone calls out your name and his, and he tucks his chin into his elbow in an effort to hide it. He doesn't bother to look yet, just waves a hand as someone sits beside you, and by the time he's got the handful of petals tucked safely away in his pocket, you're deep in conversation with Namjoon about one of the classes the two of you are taking.

[now]

Hoseok decides, looking at you now, that you are happier than ever.

You've said your vows and you've cried several happy tears and you've kissed more times than he can count, but you're still radiant. It's the glow of contentment, the promise of more to come, all coalescing to shine like stars in your eyes.

"May I, Starshine?" He asks, extending a hand and pulling you away from your current dance partner. Yoongi doesn't look too upset about it, just smiles knowingly at you both as your hand folds into Hoseok's.

You move with him as if it's second nature, and Hoseok supposes that it is , at this point. As many times as he held you this way while teaching you the steps, as often as he led you through them before today, you should be able to move out of sheer muscle memory.

"Have I told you yet that you're sparkling, Starshine?" He asks, smiling along with you when you laugh.

"I think that you're confusing me and the ring again, Hobi."

On cue, he looks down at it. He spent so long on it, years of dreaming of what it may look like and months of trial and error and practice runs before he got it right. It was worth it, though; the ring does sparkle, takes the glow of your skin and the joy in your smile and amplifies it.

Crafted to look like a sunflower itself, the ring is easily the most expensive thing he's ever made. Each petal sparkles with the same yellow quartz of that stone he gave you so long ago, and set into the middle is one large chocolate diamond that he spent entirely too much money on because it was already cut exactly the way he needed it. He'll never forget the way you cried when you saw it the first time.

Hoseok's eyes meet yours, and he frowns at the tears he sees there.

"Hey, none of that, Starshine. It's a happy day, remember?" He stops moving in the middle of the dance floor, hands moving to wipe your tears before they can fall.

"I just...I'm so happy Hobi." He grins at your words, resisting the urge to poke fun, because of course you're happy. You just got married.

You look up at him again, eyes still watery and he pulls you into a tight hug.

"I love you so much, Hobi," you mutter against his chest. His heart flutters in his chest as he resists the urge to press his lips to yours right where you stand.

"Yeah," He whispers. "Yeah, I love you too, Starshine."

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he releases you, relinquishing his grasp on you so you can dance with Namjoon. The pendant around your neck sits beautifully, shadowed on either side by the white of the cloth, and he thinks for just a moment, that maybe he made that pendant for you, after all.

He's worn it for years, of course, but the smile on your face when he slid it around your neck was worth it. It was worth being asked if you could have it, not entirely joking, and it was worth every single time you would fiddle with it during movie marathons, and it was worth every single night he held it in his clutched palm as he sat over the sink and coughed up the yellow blooms that you've strung up all over the reception hall.

very day that you bugged him about it, how you asked every day without fail if you could have it. He knew you were kidding - mostly - but the light in your eyes when he finally gave it to you before the wedding today is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, no matter what the future holds for him.

It ends, as most things do, with a conversation.

It was innocent enough - just a phone ringing in its place on the worktable and his hands covered in clay while he struggled to hit the screen with his elbow. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that he missed, exactly. Maybe it was the way that you’d been calling him less and less in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t noticed that he’d been spending too much time in the studio, pouring his soul into every shape he crafts and wire he twists while he chokes down petals. Maybe it was the classes the two of you shared and the projects you worked on together, that he assumed was friendly and not anything more. Maybe it was all of that, everything working in tandem in a way that he could never understand.

Or maybe it was none of it. Simple acts that led to simple reactions - being too busy for each other, not talking as often, coughing up sunflower petals - that all led to that moment.

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches the heart-shaped vase spin aimlessly on its wheel while you cry tears of joy through the phone because he finally - finally - asked you out, he can’t care.

[then]

Asthma? is what Jimin asks him, years later when they’re both locked in Hoseok’s newly renovated store, basically a hole in the wall that he saved and saved for with his online sales. Hoseok is curled over the workbench in the back, doing everything he can to catch the petals before Jimin can see them.

When they eventually subside, long enough for him to gulp down some water and shove the red-tinted petals off to the side in a pile that’s been steadily growing for weeks now, Hoseok shoots Jimin a self-deprecating smile.

He doesn’t even get a chance to lie to him.

“How long?” Jimin asks him. There’s no softness to his tone; it’s all hard edges and naked truths, and for once, the exhaustion overtakes Hoseok. He’s so sick of lying. He’s so sick of carrying an inhaler he doesn’t need, of shoving sunflower petals into every nook and cranny he can find so that no one sees them, and he just wants someone to know.

“Forever,” Hoseok answers simply. “As long as I can remember.”

“And you never said anything? Ever?”

Hoseok sighs, throat scratchy and raw, and he stares down at the ring he’s been fiddling with. “Would you?” He eventually says.

When he looks at Jimin, the other man has a petal of his own in between two fingers and rubs it absently, distractedly, like it’s habit. When he looks up, Hoseok understands, and an understanding passes between them.

Jimin goes back to the laptop perched in front of him while Hoseok continues to work on other orders, things less important than the ring burning a hole in his mind’s eye, begging to be made.

He isn’t ready, he tells himself. He isn’t skilled enough yet. Maybe one day.

“I’m getting the surgery,” Jimin says after a few hours of silence. Hoseok fumbles with the pliers in his hands, twists the wire the wrong way, and it all clatters to the tabletop. He doesn’t bother to catch it, either; he’s too busy staring at his best friend in shock.

“Seriously?” He breathes. Jimin nods, and the air rushes out of Hoseok in the span of a heartbeat.

Everyone knows about the surgery, just like everyone knows about hanahaki disease. It took years to develop and it’s the only known treatment, but there are always side effect. Always. Sometimes they’re minor, just losing your feelings of love for the person you have feelings for, or like the guy that just became allergic to the peonies that he had removed.

But then there are the others.

The people who lose the capacity to love altogether. The ones who never find anyone else, who never learn how to love another person, not like they loved the one that caused the flowers. Or the ones who just lose their emotions completely, and become essentially lifeless. Unable to feel love at all, or sadness, or grief, or joy, or excitement, or remorse, or anything. They just exist.

“But...the side effects-”

“Aren’t guaranteed,” Jimin interrupts. “Plenty of people get the procedure every day and walk away fine.”

“Yeah and some of them turn into lifeless machines!” Hoseok counters. Jimin’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks steadfast, decided, and he’s barely looking away from whatever work he’s doing on the laptop, and it infuriates Hoseok. “You’re gonna sign away any hope that you have, any chance that you have, because it...because it hurts?”

“No,” Jimin says as he closes the laptop and slides it to the side. “Because I’m tired, Hobi. I’m so tired, all the time. I’m tired of keeping it a secret, and I’m tired of puking my guts every time I think about-” Jimin cuts himself off and closes his eyes, tight, as he swallows.

When he opens them, Hoseok can see every emotion he’s ever had in Jimin’s eyes, and it makes his heart ache.

“Aren’t you tired, Hobi?”

Jimin’s voice is small, and weak, but it lingers in the air between them. It curls past Hoseok’s throat and then down to wrap around his chest, growing tighter and tighter with every breath. Neither of them break eye contact, and Hoseok wonders what Jimin sees in his face.

“Yeah,” Hoseok eventually says. With that, the spell is broken, and he can breathe again, and he drags his eyes away from Jimin to look at the piece he’d been working on instead. “But I can’t just...stop, y’know? I’ve loved her for basically my entire life. I can't...I don’t even know who I am without that.”

Jimin’s quiet for a long moment, and Hoseok thinks maybe he’s not going to say anything. Maybe he got through to Jimin, maybe he won’t get that surgery.

“Don’t you think that you should find out?”

[now]

Hoseok watches from across the room as Jimin spins you in a circle, both of you laughing brightly.

Jimin’s suit matches your dress wonderfully; Hoseok doesn’t think anyone else could quite pull off the pattern on it quite like Jimin does in such an effortless way. He looks happier than Hoseok has ever seen him, more content, more at home in his own skin.

He isn’t coughing, and he isn’t struggling, and everything worked out well for him. No more flowers in his lungs, no more lies to his friends, no more unrequited love left heavy in his heart. Just happiness and laughter and joy. Hoseok wonders if he’d be the same.

His thumb rubs absently across the business card in his pocket. It’s been there since Jimin handed it to him, what feels like forever ago now. It’s worn, and faded, and torn, and old, but the doctor is still practicing, just got recognized by the World Health Organization for his work. There’s an appointment reminder dinging in Hoseok’s phone, and a business card in his pocket, and he still doesn’t know if he’s even going to go, because you look so beautiful.

You’re surrounded by your flowers, and you’re glowing like the North Star, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you.

“She’s gorgeous, right?”

Hoseok turns and smiles at Namjoon. The man looks just as good, decked out in the best suit money can buy, with crinkles in the corner of his eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he grins.

“Yeah, she is,” He says. Emotions clog in his throat when he looks back at you only to find you looking his way. There’s love in your eyes and a soft, private smile on your lips, and it makes his chest tighten. “She looks really happy.”

“She does,” Namjoon agrees.

Across the room, you wiggle a finger, and the ring glints in the light. Hoseok stifles a laugh, and shakes his head.

“I can’t dance anymore, so this is all on you, big guy,” He tells Namjoon. The other man looks more than happy to take him up on the offer, grinning sheepishly as he sets his drink down to make his way to you.

You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him close as the music transitions into a slow dance. Namjoon presses his forehead against yours, and both your eyes close, and suddenly, Hoseok feels like he shouldn’t be watching. This feels private, intimate, in a way that he’s never been privy to.

His throat clenches and he can feel it in his throat.

He nearly drops his drink, but he gets to a table just in time to put the cup down with shaky hands. He knew, he knew what would happen. He clenches his jaw and heads through the side door of the event space, barely chancing a glance behind him. You don’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, but Hoseok makes eye contact with Jimin. The younger boy taps his wrist, and Hoseok just heads outside.

He doesn’t need Jimin to remind him that time is up.

[then]

“You need what?”

Namjoon’s smile turns shy at Hoseok’s tone. Of all the things that Hoseok could have anticipated Namjoon would ask him for, of all the potential items that he’s been commissioned by the taller man, this was never something he expected.

Though maybe he should have.

“-you know her better than anyone, y’know, and no one can craft like you, Hobi-”

The nickname sounds wrong, suddenly; like poison on Namjoon’s lips, but Hoseok just plasters on his smile again, the one he saves for truly difficult customers who try his patience, and he prays Namjoon doesn’t recognize it.

“No, I get it, yeah.”

“I just...it needs to be perfect. And you’re the only one that I trust to make it perfect.” Hoseok’s heart twinges in his chest, and he can feel the roots moving in his lungs. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, too, cost isn’t a factor, it just needs to be-”

“Perfect,” Hoseok finishes. Namjoon smiles again, sheepish, and nods. “It’s fine, I’ll make it. No charge.”

“Hobi, I can’t ask you to do that, not for free-”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok insists. “I’m offering. Consider it a...gift.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and he really must trust Hoseok with this, because he’s heading out just a few minutes after, already on the phone with you because the two of you are meeting for lunch.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It makes sense. It’s been years. Isn’t that the usual time people start to expect this kind of thing?

A voice in the back of his head, bitter and cruel, tells him that he should have charged Namjoon. Should have made him pay an exorbitant amount, enough to keep the shop running through the months of the slow season, enough to help heal the wound in Hoseok’s heart, but he brushes it off. It wouldn’t have felt right, charging for this.

Not when he’s had the design sitting in his head since he wrapped that first stone with wire, since he first learned how to make this jewelry. Not when he’s had pages upon pages of designs drawn out for years, since before he even owned his own shop.

That was never his to design, though, he reminds himself as he heads into the workshop. He had no right to that design.

Just like he has no right to you.

[then]

Later, weeks and weeks later, In the darkness of his apartment, Hoseok cries.

Hoseok cries for all the things he’s never said, all the things he’ll never do, all of the things that you don’t know. He cries for the late nights together and the impromptu adventures and the panicked phone calls. He’s been so blind, he’s refused to see it, he knows. It’s all been waning, all put on the backburner in favor of him.

He’s the one you call when air can’t make it to your lungs. He’s the one you pull from work in the dead of night to make him sleep. He’s the one that gets to wraps his arms around you while you watch the newest episode of whatever show you’re obsessed with lately. It’s all him, and it will never be Hoseok, no matter how hard he wishes, because he’s too late.

He spent so long obsessed with maybe. Maybe you’ll love him back, maybe it’ll ruin the friendship, maybe you’ll realize. For years and years, he said maybe, and now it’s too late, because you’re going to be saying yes to another man’s question, and Hoseok will be left in the darkness, no longer able to look at the stars in your eyes because you’ll be looking at him.

For the first time in his life, Hoseok hates. He hates you for not realizing that he loves you; he hates Namjoon for taking the chance and asking you out; he hates the flowers growing in his chest that are just further proof that he’s alone in his feelings. Mostly, though…

Mostly, Hoseok hates himself, he realizes as he crumples against the wall of his living room. He hates himself for not taking the risk that Namjoon did, for not putting it all out there so that you could give him whatever kind of closure would come.

And it’s there, sitting on his floor, surrounded by the remains of too many projects that he spent too long on that you’ll now never see, that he first begins to consider it. Everyone knows about the surgery, everyone knows that you can get the flowers removed, but that it comes with a cost. He stares, past his tears, past the colorful crystal remnants at his feet, and he considers.

There’s already a numbness spreading through his body; it follows the same path as the roots of the flowers in his lungs, it runs parallel to the petals and seeds, and it only serves to highlight the painful ache that his feelings have caused. He’s already becoming numb to it, so why not? He may lose the ability to love forever, yes, but he can still be your friend. He can still watch you marry another man, this time without the itch in his throat and the flowers in his bile. So why shouldn’t he?

His phone rings, and he already knows it’s you. Not by the specialized ringtone - the only custom one in his entire contact list - and not by the blinking light that’s sure to wake him up in the middle of the night. No, he knows it’s you, because he knows that there’s no way Namjoon could have resisted the temptation to ask you tonight. He’s pictured what you’d look like a hundred thousand times, knows exactly how bright your smile would be as you said yes, how soft the tears would feel as he wiped them away, he knows.

And now you’re calling him, to tell him the great news, or maybe scold him for not giving you a heads up about it in the first place since he’s the one that made the ring. Either way, you’re on the other end of that ringing, ready to tell him about the happiest night of your life, and Hoseok can’t…

He can’t resist it. It’s autopilot as he drags himself to where his phone is still ringing, and it’s only after a deep and shaky breath that he answers it.

You don’t even give him time to speak for you’re launching into your squeals and happy giggles and how Namjoon did it, and Hoseok feels a reluctant smile cross his features. It only grows when you start to gush about the ring, complimenting his skill, and he can feel a bud trying to make its way up his throat, so he mutes his phone. He doesn’t want you to hear as he rushes to the kitchen sink, as he chokes and coughs and gags and eventually spits out a nearly whole sunflower.

It’s not a big one, maybe an inch or so in diameter, and not fully bloomed, but it’s there, and Hoseok knows it’s more of a death sentence than anything.

“Hobi? Are you there?”

He wipes his mouth and clears his throat and leaves the flower in the sink with its red-stained petals so that he can unmute his phone.

“Yeah, Starshine, I’m here.”

[now]

In the alley beside your wedding, Hoseok coughs. He coughs and he gags and he chokes, until the ground is littered with flower petals that aren’t from your bouquets, and blood drops and tears. He chokes until he can’t breathe anymore, until he has to reach in and pull the flower from his throat before he really does die, and it makes him shudder when he sees that it’s nearly fully formed, almost completely bloomed and everything.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the next one.

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the red suit he chose for this exact reason, and he looks through the window, to the space where you should be dancing with Namjoon.

You aren’t, though. You’re watching him, brows drawn together, confused, and you’re saying something that he can’t quite make out through the glass.

Fear strikes his heart. Fear that you saw everything, that you know everything, but directly after it comes relief, because he knows now. He knows what he needs to do, because he doesn’t think he can bear to have you watch him die, but he doesn’t think he can bear not to love you anymore, either; no matter what, he’s lost you, and that knowledge solidifies his decision. He holds a hand over his chest, and you mirror him, your fingers closing around the pendant he made so, so long ago.

You turn, looking for someone - Namjoon, maybe, or Jimin, to ask what’s wrong with him, and he takes the opportunity. He heads out of the alley, as fast as his legs can carry him, because he knows.

When you finally make it into the alley, you don’t understand. Your best friend, your best man, is nowhere to be found. In his wake are flower petals, drawn out by the wind.

One catches your eye, and you pick it up. It’s soft against your fingertips, and you frown when you see the red on it.

You don’t ever see Hoseok again.

#magicshopnet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #bangtanscenery #btswritersguild #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #j-hope fanfic #j-hope angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #hobi fanfic #hobi angst #hobi fluff #ddaenggtan

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suchdan-veryphil · 5 years ago

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Goodnight, Solos - A Dad!Ben Solo Imagine

Request: Can we get an imagine where Ben has trouble with his and the reader’s toddler and the bedtime routine? Maybe it’s the first time he does it bc the reader is pregnant with their second child and is on bedrest? Their toddler gives him a hard time and just doesn’t wanna go to bed?

Fluff!!!

Word Count: 1,928

Trigger Warning: Swearing maybe?

A/N: I am absolute Adam Driver Trash. Ben Solo deserved better.

---------

“Ben, are you sure that you’ve got her?” As you sat up against the backboard of the bed, your 7-month-pregnant belly protruded from the covers. The doctor had put you on bed rest, insisting that since your toddler had been born 7 weeks early, that you were at high risk for early labor with your ever-growing baby.

Your husband put his dirty clothes in the hamper before he nodded his head and looked at you. “Not to be an ass, but I literally single-handedly took down a handful of Palpatine’s assholes. I think I can give our two-year-old a bath and read her a story before bed.”

A deep breath ran through your body as you tried not to take offense to what he was saying. “Yea, well if you end up needing help, call me over.”

“I will not.”

“Need help or call me over?”

“Both.” Ben turned around and kissed you on your forehead before he turned on his heels and walked out the door and down the hall towards your toddler’s room.

“Reina, it’s time to take your bath. It’s almost bedtime.”

Looking back at the 6′3″ man was a pair of (y/e/c) that reflected yours, and a head full of messy, curly, midnight hair that was definitely her father’s. “Daddy, not yet.”

“Yes, yet. C’mon, wookie.” Ben had a way of making things sound stern, but not rude or mean. His voice was deep and sultry, but his tone was gentle and empathetic.

“Can I do the bubbles?” her voice was the stereotypical voice of a toddler who knew how to make her father give her what she wants, accompanied by the slightest tilt of the head. She smiled at him, making her chubby cheeks turn light pink.

In that moment, Ben knew that everything he had faced leading up to this point in his life was so that he could be the best father possible for this child and the one on the way.

“Yes, you can do the bubbles. Let’s go.” Ben held his arms out, and they were soon holding your two-year-old tightly, carrying her into the bathroom. He ran the water and plugged the tub. “Reina, come do the bubbles!”

Reina ran to the cabinet by the sink and pulled out the container of the bubble bath and used all of her 29-month-old strength to pop the top off and run towards the bathtub. With no thought, she turned the container on a 180-degree angle, dumping a good majority of the bottle into the tub. Ben quickly grabbed it, struggling to grip it well enough to turn it back over before he plopped it into the sink.

“Bubbles, Daddy!” Reina giggled and put her hands in the running water as the bubbles began to form in the water.

“Yes, lots of bubbles, wookie. Now you gotta take off your clothes?” Ben was grateful that you weren’t able to hear him questioning your two-year-old daughter on how to take a bath.

“Yes and then I jump in the bubbles!” Reina squealed as she undressed and then ran out of the bathroom.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“On a mission!”

“Reina, you’re not wearing clothes, come here!” Ben stood and used the length of his legs to stride quickly towards the naked child that was running through the house.

“Catch me, Daddy!”

Reina ran past Ben and into her bedroom. “Daddy, my wanna put my Rey doll to the bath!” Ben stood there for a moment, confused as to what she was trying to say. “Rey doll in my bath!”

Ben shook his head as he realized what she was saying. “Yea, sure. Let’s just get in the tub, Reina.” He leaned over and scooped her up before he walked her back into the bathroom and put her in the tub before he turned the water off.

Reina looked up at her father and smiled as she grabbed fists full of bubbles, and squeezing as they floated into the air, made their way back down and landed on various surfaces. “Daddy, can you use the force to blow the bubbles around?”

As the Solo boy took a washcloth and made it soapy, he smirked a little and shook his head. “I cannot. But watch this,” and with that, he took a deep breath in and blew into a large hill of bubbles, causing them to fly everywhere and causing the toddler to go into a fit of giggles and laughter. Ben couldn’t help but also chuckle as he continued to bathe the child that taught him a kind of love that he never thought he would know.

The rest of bathtime was pretty smooth if a mess of bubbles on the floor, counter, sink, and Ben was still considered smooth. Ben sat with Reina on her bedroom floor, wrapped in a towel that was made to look like a uniform from the Rebellion. Y/N bought it as a joke, and Ben didn’t find it very funny at first. Only when Reina decided she loved it did he come around.

As soon as he ran the brush through her hair, she whined. “Ow! Daddy that hurted!”

“It hurt?”

“Yea, I want momma to brush it. Can you go get her?”

Ben frowned and gave her a small squeeze. “Momma can’t leave the bed, remember? She has to stay in bed so that she can keep your baby sibling safe and sound.”

“Then we don’t have to brush my hair.” Reina pouted and gave him a teary-eyed expression that pulled at his heartstrings in a way that only her mother had been able to do before.

“Yes, we do, wookie. I’ll try to be more gentle. I promise.” And he was. He had combed through her hair in small sections and in small strokes. This caused the chore to take about four times as long as it should have, but the job was done and there were no more tears, which is what he cared about.

“All done, kid. Where are your pajamas?”

“Top.”

Ben collected any random pair of bottoms and a top before he turned around to find his daughter opening the drawers on her crafting desk with her towel still wrapped around her.

“What’re you doin’? It’s bedtime. Come get dressed.”

“Not yet! I wanna color you a pitcher!”

Ben took a deep breath, not because he was frustrated but because he didn’t know how to get through to the toddler. He finally understood when y/n said: “she’s just like you, stuck in her ways.”

“Tomorrow morning, the first thing we can do is make a picture but now you need put your clothes on so we can lay down and go to bed.”

“Daddy, a story first. Momma always reads me a story.”

“Yes, we’ll read a story but not until you’re dressed.”

Ben had come a long way. If you had come from another galaxy and had heard of the late Kylo Ren, and then met your Ben, you never would have put two and two together. Ben was kind, and he was learning patience. It wasn’t easy for him. There were many days when you two had started dating where you could see his temper come out, but he truly was working on it.

Then the day you told him you were pregnant with your lovely Reina, he really began to hold himself accountable for his actions. He wanted to be the dad he never imagined himself being and giving your daughter a life full of love, trust, and lack of fear and anger.

He held the pajamas up in his hands as he waited for Reina to close her drawers and make her way over to where he stood.

“I can do it.” Her arms reached up and stretched as if she would ever be able to reach any object held over her father’s head. Ben chuckled at the sight, and just to tease her a little, he reached them up higher.

“Are you sure?” Another chuckle escaped his lips as she started to jump up in an attempt to get taller.

“I’m gonna tell momma! My want my pajamas!” The small girl had a stern voice that she had undeniably learned from her father. Ben knelt down and helped her step into her underwear, pants, and lastly her shirt.

“Don’t tell the big boss on me, you know that look she’ll give me. Ben then made a serious face, imitating the one you give when you have to discipline Reina.

With a giggle, Reina lifted her tiny finger to her lips in a shushing motion. “Okay, daddy. Let’s play a game!”

“No no no, let’s read a book and go to bed!” Ben said trying to match the toddler’s enthusiasm as he lifted her up and brought her over to the shelves of books by the window.

The shelves were packed with all kinds of books. Comics, coloring books, books on animals, books on the universe, but Reina’s favorite was “Goodnight Moon”, so it was no surprise when her hand went straight to it. She slid it off of the shelf and held it tightly in her hands.

“This one, Daddy.”

“You got it Wookie.” Ben kissed the side of her head and smiled as he lowered her into her bed shaped like an X-wing.

“Daddy, lay with me?”

“I don’t think I’ll fit in the bed with you, kid.”

“Make you fit! Come here!” Reina moved over all the way to the wall and patted the bed beside her.

Ben watched and tried to analyze whether or not he would fit on the bed. With a light, sigh, he decided that it didn’t matter. As he flicked the lights off, Reina’s star projector night light lit up and covered the ceiling with stars. As he laid down, he pulled the blankets over the two of them and took the book gently from her hands.

“Ok, get comfy.” Ben cleared his throat and opened the book. Reina cuddled into her father with her head on his chest and her arm over his abdomen. Ben smiled lightly to himself as he began to read.

“In the great green room, there was a telephone...” Ben rested his head on Reina’s and continued to read in a slow, soothing voice.

It was only when Ben was half-way through the book that their baby girl had fallen asleep, but he continued to read aloud as if she were still listening.

You had already been waiting for almost two and a half hours waiting for Ben to come back to bed. You knew Reina could be tough to get to sleep, but she had never taken this long before. Getting out of bed, you slid into your slippers and waddled your way down the hall to Reina’s room.

You were met with a dark room covered in stars and the sight of your Ben and Reina Solo cuddled up together, Ben’s stomach holding “Goodnight Moon”.

His cheek was rested on her head and her arms were wrapped around his body. You could feel your heart swell with love as you took the sight in. Ben Solo had come a long way since his battle with Palpatine, and even if he still felt a struggle, you knew that he had changed forever, for the absolute best.

You took one last glance and smiled as you slowly backed out of the bedroom and closed the door, leaving it open a crack. Before walking away, you glanced in and bit your lip. “Goodnight, Solos.”

#ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren imagines #star wars fic #star wars imagine #star wars #ben solo deserved better #ben solo imagine #adam driver imagine #adam driver fic #adam driver

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wlw-imagines-blog · 6 years ago

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I Can Say it Without Words | (Peggy Carter x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Peggy Carter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Major Character loss, and smut, i guess

Word Count: 2k

Summary: I can make you feel good.

Anon: Hello sweetie!!! I just loooove your blog so much and your writing it’s so pretty!!! But I noticed there’s no Peggy in here :( so I’d like to request the smutish write you can post, my queer ass (I’m still figuring out if I’m Bi or Pan, so let’s say queer/not straight ass) will love you forever!!! Maybe a secret relationship between Reader and Peggy, Peg being sad bc she lost Steve and reader comforting her leading to smut and fluff and love… Pleaseeeeeeeee

A/N: Ask and you shall receive.

***

Whenever Peggy Carter walked into S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, the whole room seemed to hold its breath. The women at the switchboards seemed to stop and watch in awe as she sauntered by, skirt skimming their chairs, hat tipped low to cover her eyes. The male agents, looking up from their files and typewriters to cast scornful glances at her, hoping to tear her down with curled lips and narrowed eyes. They were foolish to think so.

When Agent Carter stepped into the office, you felt your heart press into your ribs, creating this nervous, wonderful pressure. Your hands became fidgety; brushing at the hair around your ears, shuffling papers, twisting your fountain pen.

Every woman that worked in the office shared a feeling of pride at how she was unapologetic, combative, even, towards nitwits like Agent Thompson and Agent Dooley.

As she strolled into the office, head up, shoulders back, you felt a warmth prickle the back of your neck. She wore a dark, navy blue ensemble with a shockingly pink hat, the one you remember being on her desk, the day you were hired to work at S.H.I.E.L.D.

It had been a cold October evening when Agent Carter interviewed you. Rain was splattering against the windows of her office as she reviewed your resume and criminal record check. The warm lights of the room coaxed you into a strange sense of comfort. You remembered the tight feeling in your stomach, and the sweat on your palms and brow. On her desk was the fucshia hat and plenty of files and paper, all scattered yet organized. What attracted your attention was the only picture frame on her desk. It held the image of a young, sickly blond man, wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. His resemblance to Captain America was stunning, but, that man was far too small and skinny to be him.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest, Miss. Y/L/N, your resume and letter of recommendation is flawless,” she had said, interrupting your thoughts. “But you have yet to give me a reason as to why you want to join S.H.I.E.L.D. “

Agent Carter’s hair curled perfectly over her shoulder, the dark brown contrasted the cream of her blouse perfectly. Her chocolate eyes bore into you, like she already had you figured out.

You straightened your back. “Agent Carter. All my life, people have told me I did not have the aptitude to become a government agent. I was never smart enough, never strong enough. never man enough.” You resisted the urge to sneer at the word. “Part of me wants to prove myself to the nay-sayers. Another part wants to be a piece of something bigger that just me. But, all of me wants to make a difference, even if its a small one.”

You thought you saw the ghost of a smile on her red lips. Agent Carter stood, smoothing her navy skirt. You stood too, and accepted the hand shake she offered.

“Miss. Y/L/N, I expect you here at seven a.m, sharp, ready for your training,” Agent Carter’s eyes glinted, clearly excited at your prospects. “Don’t be late.”

As December began, you were still in the preliminary stages of training under Agent Carter’s watchful eye; learning how to operate different firearms, mastering the art of safe-cracking, and properly educating yourself on espionage.

You adjusted the lapels of your blazer, watching Agent Carter approach you.

“Agent Y/L/N,” She greeted. “Down to the basement, I want to see if you’re still sharp with your gun. Go on ahead, I need to clock in.”

You nodded before leaning in. “I’d watch out, ma’am, Thompson’s on a rampage this morning; he heard about the promotion Dooley’s planning on giving you.”

Her lips twisted, as though she was fighting back a smile. “Thank you for the heads up, Y/N, I’ll keep my eyes out.”

You grinned and made your way to the practice room, artfully dodging Agent Thompson, who’s nostrils were flared and face was red.

***

“You’re getting better, y/n,” Agent Carter scribbled something down onto a clipboard. “There’s a definite improvement in accuracy. But if your hold it like this-”

She wrapped an arm around you, hand gripping yours. “Keeping your arms steady. Don’t close one eye.”

Peggy’s voice was like honey in your ears, breath hot against your neck. You fought to keep composure. The room was spinning, but you managed to keep your hand steady on the trigger, pointed at the target on the other side of the room.

Her hand rested on your nip, and you could feel the heat radiate through your slacks.

“There,” Agent Carter murmured. “Pull it.”

You pulled the trigger, and shots rang out in the cement room.

The breathe you were holding escaped in a heavy sigh that you were certain Agent Carter heard.

“Agent Carter?” Dooley’s voice shook the two of you out of your stupor. “I want to talk to you. In my office, now.”

“Thank you, Agent Carter,” you said, unable to look at her.

“Please,” she did not remove her hand from yours. “Call me Peggy.”

You nodded, throat suddenly too tight to speak. Her eyes seemed to say a million things

Then she was gone.

When you pulled on your jacket to leave for the night, all but one office was dark and empty. Agent Carter was still in her office, sitting behind her desk, cradling the picture frame of the blond man.

“Well,” you murmured. “This isn’t how I expected you to celebrate your big promotion.”

She smiled, still looking down. “How did you expect it?”

“I don’t know; a little gloating, a lot of drinking,” You shrugged. “Maybe some debauchery disguised in the form of dancing.”

She laughed, warm and deep, but incredibly weak. “I’m afraid I don’t dance. Not anymore.”

Her finger traced the glass of the picture, and you nodded. She was not going to open up if your pushed it.

You cleared your throat. “Peggy, I’m planning on going out tonight. Perhaps we can celebrate together? Maybe buy a few drinks and talk?” You probed gently. If she interpreted this as a date, you were either screwed, or getting screwed.

She finally looked up, and you noticed hoe red and watery her eyes were. Peggy managed to smile. “Are you asking me on a date, Y/N?”

“Maybe,” You leaned against the door frame. “Only if you want me to.”

Peggy seemed to think over her options, she was almost unreadable. “Where do you have in mind?”

You grinned, offering your hand. I know a place, if you’re ready to party.”

***

“Come on, honey”, you giggled, pulling Peggy along. “This will help you forget about everything.”

Mona’s was a quiet-looking building of red brick with iron bars on blacked out windows. There was a tall, stocky butch out front, hair cropped and gelled back, wearing a striped button down and slacks. She took the cigarette from behind her ear and in one fluid motion, lit it and took a deep drag. It dangled between her lips.

“Hey, Bonnie,” You grinned at the woman.

She offered you a coy smile. “Long time no see, Y/N. Who’s this?”

You wrapped an arm around Peggy. “She’s my guest, Bon. Is it alright that she comes in tonight?”

Bonnie sized her up, and Peggy did not back down. She looked Bonnie in the eye, chin raised. You were caught off guard when Peggy winked at her.

The corner of Bonnie’s mouth raised. “Yeah, she’s good. Come on in.”

You opened the door, revealing a landing, and two staircases; one that led to upstairs apartments, and one that led to the basement. As the door closed, you faced Peggy in the cramped area.

“Peggy, I’m sure you’re aware of what kind of pub this is.”

“Honestly, I’m a touch surprised, Y/N.”

You faltered. “Peggy, this is... it’s a-”

“A lesbian bar?” she asked kindly. “I’m alright with it, Y/N. In fact, I’m more alright with it that you would believe.”

“What?”

“You might find this hard to believe, but I’m quite familiar with Mona’s,” She studied her nails, feigning disinterest. “I’m what you might call a frequent patron.”

This information slapped you in the face. Staying silent, you worked through the information as Peggy continued to speak.

“Y/N, I’m trusting you with this information. No one at S.H.I.E.L.D. can ever find out about the both of us, okay?”

You snapped out of your daze. “Of course! I’m not a ditz. I know a thing or two about secrecy.”

“Good,” that easy smile returned to her face. “If you’d like, Y/N, we can still have a few drinks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I still want to celebrate my promotion.”

You grinned, “Lead the way, mademoiselle.”

The bar was a touch dingy, not bringing in enough funds to keep it completely spotless and well lit, but you found a table for yourself and Peggy. You called out to the bartender to send a bottle of the finest champagne. The pub was moderately crowded with other women all chatting and drinking, paying you no mind. The two of you listened to the jazz from the gramophone, drinking and laughing about the goons at the office.

“It’s infuriating!” Peggy laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Thompson wants to be a secretary, not an agent! It felt so good when Dooley gave me the promotion.”

You snickered, champagne sloshing onto the table. “I’ve never seen him so angry.” The bottle was empty, and the clock read one in the morning. “It’s getting late, Peg, I’ve gotta get going. Walk me home?”

The two of you took a cab back to your apartment, and Peggy walked you to the door.

You played with the buttons of her jacket. She swallowed audibly. “So, are you going to invite me in or not?”

The two of you barely made it to the bedroom.

Your lips bumped against Peggy’s neck before latching onto her jaw. You stumbled, pressing her against the bedroom door.

“All you have to say is yes,” You said softly into her skin. “That’s all I need, Peggy.”

She groaned as your lips stayed so tantalizingly far from her mouth. “Fuck me, Y/N, yes.”

Driven by lust, you pressed your lips to hers, letting Peggy open her mouth at her own pace, coaxing your tongue into her mouth. Her hands roamed down your chest, sliding over your breasts until they found your belt.

Peggy pulled away, dragging you closer to the bed by the buckle. You were surprised at how breathless you were, panting as she began to unbutton your shirt. You shed it and your trousers quickly, helping her out of her skirt and blouse, sucking a dark hickey onto her collar bone.

She stood there in her lacy, black panties, gasping when your fingers brushed against her breasts.

A hand gripped the back of your head, keeping you in place, tongue lapping at her chest.

“Fuck,” Peggy groaned. You slipped your hands down her thighs, pressing against the soft flesh of her ass. “Bed. Now.”

You fell on top of her, straddling her waist. Lips brushing against hers, delicate, then rough and filthy. Your hand slowly traveled down Peggy’s chest and navel, resting on her hip. You played with the hem of her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Peggy’s hand gripped your wrist, guiding it beneath her under garment, pulling them off.

As you pressed against her, she let out a shaking gasp. Every movement created a reaction; sometimes quiet, delicious mews, other times they were loud, pleasured moans.

Your hands never left Peggy, pushing in and out of her tight heat, hooking your fingers to brush against her G spot. When you pulled away, she let out a disappointed noise.

You replaced your hand with your thigh. You sighed as Peggy shifted her hips, dragging herself over the skin of your thigh, warm and wet. She moved faster and faster, her moans becoming higher and higher.

“Fuck,” she hissed, teeth clenched, arms thrown around your neck. Peggy cried out, falling into pleasure, back arching into you. You collapsed onto her, breathless.

She pressed a messy kiss your forehead before pulling the sheets over the both of you. You wrapped an arm around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Goodnight, Peg,” you murmured sleepily, nuzzling closer.

She ran a hand through your hair. “Goodnight, love.”

***

A/N: This is long as heck.

#peggy carter #peggy carter x reader #agent carter #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #writing #wlw

362 notes · View notes

mistymark · 5 years ago

Text

the one with the annotations.

dong sicheng x reader // 3.7k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which sicheng keeps writing in the books at the library and it should be obvious but that’s,,, not,,, allowed???

warnings: none its just fluff, theres some humour if u like,, squint

requested; yes :D - “Enemies to lovers 👀 with sicheng? Love your writing btw 💕” from anon

notes; based on this prompt: ”You’ve got to stop returning books full of corrections and spiteful comments in red pen bc I can’t stop reading them and my boss gives me disapproving glares when I laugh at the funny ones

ohhhhh boi

so while you were at uni you had a part time job at the library

because surprise surprise as a lit major you like books

shocker there

you always tried to work the late shifts, closing up and doing the returns

just because it was easy and relaxing organising and restacking the books

but soon you wished you took the earlier shifts

because of dong sicheng

not to be dramatic but

your long rival

he started coming to the library to borrow books

because that’s kind of the point of a library

but he ended up liking the environment for studying

and would stay there for hours just to study

and you’d admire his hardworking nature

if he left on time, that is

you would do the rounds ten minutes before closing

just to tell everyone like

‘hey, we’ll be closing in around ten minutes if you want to begin packing up’

but this bitch

would nEVER PACK UP ON TIME

you’d end up standing at his table with your bag and the keys in your hand

tapping on the wood to try and get his attention

and him slowly packing up afterwards

even tho he kNOWS you want to go home

‘you’re just as slow as you were in kindergarten hey?’

and he’d be so furious

‘you know you cheated’

‘I don’t remember any such thing’

and maybe you did maybe you didn’t

you were like four years old

as if you’d remember a race you won when you were that age

he just rolls his eyes and leaves as you lock the doors

you leave in the other direction

happily leaving him behind

but he stops by every Monday Tuesday and Thursday night to study

which are the days you work as well

he acts like it’s just part of his schedule

but he worked out if he came in on Wednesday’s he didn’t have the opportunity to annoy you

and honestly?

annoying you at the end of your shift and after a long session of studying was the highlight of his night

but he keeps borrowing books

and you’re like

whatever

until he borrows this new book you’ve been wanting to read for ages

and you were low-key so bitter

this lil bitch has no way of knowing you wanted that book but somehow he does and that’s the only reason he’s borrowed it

even though,, he literally had no idea lmao

tbh u probably would have wanted to talk to him about the books he reads bc u have very similar taste

okay the same taste

but he’s such an asshole ur like nah fam

anyways he returns it after a week

boy reads fast ok

and when he goes to drop it in the returns box

you just take it from his hand and scan it under your name straight away

and put it under the desk so no one else can borrow it

and when there’s a lull in the work at the library

you reach under the table for the book and rifle through it

and you notice a few pencil marks

and upon further inspection you realise they’re comments referencing certain parts of the book

and you do nOT stand for vandalism

but some of them are fuckin hilarious not gonna lie

on the page you just happened to open

you can see there’s a comment beside a passage of text depicting a fight scene

‘this would kill someone wtf’

and u laugh and wonder who had done this

like the book had only been out for a little while

and u finish it in just less than a week

bc u read a lot during your shifts

probably a lot more than you should tbh

and seriously the comments made the book better

you hadn’t laughed so hard at random commentary so much

like the words were exactly what you were thinking

you couldnt help it

while ur putting some of the books back in the middle of your shift

!!!! you see another book that u might like !!!

not to judge a book by its cover butttttttt

it looks like ur type oop-

and after flipping through it

to get an idea of font size and chapter length cause ur a whole nerd like that

u see it ALSO has pencil markings

in the borders and underlining sentences

and without even thinking u borrow it

just to read the funny comments again

and ur boss comes up to you during your shift and is like

‘have you seen someone’s been writing in the books? look at this’

and thrusts a book in ur face

and ur like ??????? okay chill I’ll look

and u read the writing she’s pointing at

the familiar loopy handwriting adorning the page

and it says ‘I hope she throws her drink in his face’

when u read the paragraph for context

u realise it’s a confession scene

a few lines down the mystery person has written ‘called it.’

and u can’t help but laugh

like come on that was funny

but ur boss doesn’t agree

she just asks you to find out who’s doing it so they can be suspended from the library

or charged with vandalism

or something

she wants vengeance

u roll ur eyes and go to one of the staff computers

scrolling through the lists of borrowers for that specific book

and it’s a fuckin library that book has been borrowed a loT

2031 times ???????????????

you almost fall of your chair tbh

then someone clears their throat in front of u

and u immediately apologise as u try and get the right tab up to process the borrower’s book

but once u look at the person in front of u

you wish you hadn’t been so nice

sicheng stands in front of you

a grin on his face as he hands you another book

smug bitch is so happy he startled u

‘looking at porn on the library computer, yn?’

u laugh

‘I’m not u in 8th grade’

he glares at you as he takes his book and goes back to his desk to continue studying

u were soooo hoping he’d leave

even tho u kinda enjoyed looking at him

like dude was hot okay

what were u supposed to do????

ur actual job????

please.

so he stays

and when it’s ten minutes til closing

u go and let everyone know

and u stop at sichengs table

and he’s writing out notes or something

idk it’s not like u care anyway lol

but he’s lowkey frustrated bc he keeps messing up this one goddamn formula

so he erases it

and that’s when u catch a glimpse of his handwriting

and bruh am I high or is that the exact same handwriting as in the books

I mean he has borrowed a few of the books

and he’s into that genre

not that you've checked out his borrowed list or anything

basically ur having this whole conversation with yourself in your head

bc ur cool like that

and he’s like ????? why this bitch standing over my shoulder and watching me write out this equation

until he’s like ‘what are u doing’

and ur like !!!!! oh hi !!! sorry I was busy listening to the voices in my head lmao xD

jk jk

‘have u been writing in the books’

and suddenly he’s super shy

and he has this massive grin

and he’s like ‘no’

bitch we know it was u stfu

u roll ur eyes and ur like ‘its not funny my boss wants you to be suspended’

he squints at you

‘how do you even know it was me’

and then:

‘DO YOU HAVE E V I D E N C E’

and u cross your arms

like a badass bitch

and ur like ‘I have plenty of evidence actually’

‘for one, youve borrowed all the books that have been found with writing’

‘and your handwriting matches’

subconsciously he covers his notebook with his arm to hide his handwriting

and he's like ‘why are u telling me this’

you're taken aback by the question tbh

like ?????? to be a good person ??????

idk u fuckwit just wanted to warn you

‘thought you'd want to know’

and he just turns back to his book

and you shrug and walk away like ok get suspended then see if I care

but u do :((

but as you walk away hes like

‘wait’

‘Im gonna be suspended??’

and u nod like ye that's what I just said but ok

‘like I cant borrow or I cant come in at all?’

u don't know tbh

‘both I think?’

and suddenly there's panic in his eyes

another person walks past u and thanks u

and u mindlessly tell them to have a good night as they leave

everyone has left

except sicheng of course

that beautiful son of a-

wait why did u say beautiful

‘what can I do to nOT get suspended??’

and u shrug bc idk dude not my problem

but then u think about it

‘I mean if u get rid of the evidence theres no way u can be suspended, right?’

and he seems so happy at the thought

‘would you help me? please?’

and ur sooooooo skeptical

‘depends. what do u want to me to do?’

‘I mean I need access to the books so’

‘yeah ill let u in and out’

‘I can't exactly just erase the markings when people could be watching’

and that's exactly how you end up sitting in the library with dong sicheng at 11pm at night rifling through books to find odd pencil markings to erase

it wasnt that hard

u just got his record up

*snorts* ‘you borrowed ‘how to talk to girls’ when we were thirteen’

and he just rolled his eyes and marched to the computer like ‘you can see my record I deserve to see yours’

and ur like NOOOOOO nononononono

but later

‘you've read all the light-fighter novels??’

he looks at you from where hes searching for one of the books on the list, an eyebrow raised

‘yeah why’

‘dude,, I loved those books’

and he smiles a little

‘thats where I started marking the books tbh, every time I read it id add a little cross in the corner of the cover bc I read it so often’

part of u is a little impressed

the other is annoyed at how similar your taste in books is

but the first part keeps asking why u hate him so much

other than the staying late and the snarky comments

which you actually find kinda funny-

anyways

once you've gathered up a few of the books

like at least ten each

you sit on the floor of the childrens section

beanbags sprawled out beneath you as u read through some of the books

most of them you've read before

and every time you giggle at something hes written his smile gets a little bigger

but of course youre looking at the book so you dont notice

and he keeps his head down

‘is it bad that im hungry’

you lift your head from the book to look at sicheng

hes not even reading anymore hes just lounging back on the beanbags

and maybe he'd been watching u read

watching as the smile on your face grew wider at his commentary

‘I didnt see you leave tonight. have u eaten?’

you furrow your brows in thought, trying to recall having seen him leave

‘you been watching me, y/n?’

‘have you been eating, sicheng?’

and there's something about the way you say his name that makes his heart jump

his voice is soft as he looks at you in the dark

‘no’

you focus back on the book in front of you

‘finish whatever book youre on and we’ll call it a night’

‘what, you wanna go eat?’

you cant tell if hes just surprised or if hes hopeful

or something else

‘no but I do want to sleep’

you laugh and he forces a laugh too

you dont notice the difference

when you've returned all the books

he meets you at the front door as you grab the book you'd been reading that shift

hes just standing by the door on his phone

and maybe its bc ur tired or maybe its just him

but u cant help thinking

Jesus Christ this boy is attractive

and okay maybe u had a crush on him a few years ago

but hey! you were eleven what could u do

the crush still lasted like two years tho lmao

but u shoulder your bag and open the door for him

making sure to lock it carefully

and he walks with you in the direction of your apartment

and ur like oh u live this way too?

and hes like nah

but what kind of boy would he be if he didnt accompany home

like christ y/n u could be h u r t out here at this time of night

but you just smile at him bc wow thats ??? actually ??? kinda sweet

‘who are u and what have u done with dong sicheng’

and there goes his heart again

he just nudges u with his elbow

and u laugh at him and continue on ur way

when u get to ur building he thanks u for ur help in the most polite way possible

and u can kind of see that hes actually rlly nice ??? how ???

but hes back at the library the next day

and of course he comes up to the counter as soon as he spots you

sneaking around a few desks so u dont hear him come up behind you to whisper ‘BOO!’ in your ear

you jump like three feet in the air and spin around to tell him to get out from behind the desk

‘I dont see a nametag on u that means u have to be on THAT side of the desk thank u very much’

‘didnt realise your name tag said bitch on it geeeez y/n ://’

and u just fix him with a glare once hes finally on the right side

‘are u borrowing a book or not’

‘nuP’

he leans on the desk

his eyes staring straight into yours

‘just wanted to ask if u were able to stay back tonight’

you roll ur eyes

you'd barely gotten any sleep last night

but the look of concern on his face when he realises youre hesitating makes you nod

‘of course,, wouldnt want my least favourite person to get kicked out’

‘I always knew you had a soft spot for me’

you roll ur eyes aGAiN

‘go bother someone else’

‘oh is the hot librarian in?’

you push him away from the desk

but he doesnt miss the faint smile on ur lips

‘sicheng dont make me give you $100 in overdue book fees’

he sticks his hands up at the threat, his eyes wide

‘no. please. ill do anything’

when u raise an eyebrow at him, he just grabs the book you'd been reading (and not yet borrowed) and walks away

and he winks too

u have to stop your heart from beating out of its chest

and later

its 8pm and the library is officially closing

and for the past three hours you'd been walking to sicheng’s desk and subtly been trying to steal your book back

but every single time hes seen you coming

and pulled the book under the desk or into his lap

away from your grabbing hands

every. single. time.

you tap your foot impatiently at him when its time to continue ur undercover project

and he smiles down at his notebook when he hears u huff in annoyance at him

he dramatically looks up at you

‘do you need something?!’

‘do you want to get suspended?!’

he narrows his eyes at you but stands up anyway

he carefully puts his things in his bag and takes the list of books from your hands

a few of them are already crossed out as having been checked and erased

but theres still a lot to go

it takes you almost three weeks to finally get to the last day

and it had been the same thing every time;

sicheng took forever to pack up

you'd eventually find about ten books each

sit in the children’s section

laugh and chat about your lives while you went through the books

tease each other

and when you'd finished,

he'd walk you home

every single time

without fail

it became a habit that on the Tuesdays he'd stop by on his way to his morning class to drop coffee off for you

because he'd kept you up the night before

and it became easy to lose track of time with sicheng

he was just so engaging

there was no part of you that felt bored or uncomfortable with him

yeah he was annoying and infuriating

but his good book taste made up for it

and his annotations in the margins of the books too

‘is this the last of them?’

he squints down at the page again, counting the books on the table again

its the third time hes counted

‘surely ive read more than this’

‘not from this library ://’

you blow your hair out from your face and look down at the pile

‘you know, I think my manager is starting to get really suspicious of me’

‘why’ he looks up briefly from his book to read your face

but you try and remain calm

‘well she only told me about the markings right. and now theyre disappearing’

he looks at you like ?????

‘well she knows ive been closing up late... I think she thinks I did it’

he laughs ‘you? has she met you?’

you pout and throw a pillow at him

‘HEY! what's that supposed to mean :((’

‘it means ive never met someone who's so protective over books as you’

you think about it, chewing ur bottom lip

‘lets just finish this’

‘do u want to get food after’

he surprises you with the sudden question

and the slight nervousness thats evident on his face really makes you want to say yes

but you have a class tomorrow

and you always try and finish up here earlier on a Thursday night

‘cant :((’

he nods and goes back to readng

theres silence for a while

but you find it comfortable

sicheng on the other hand, feels as though hes just been shot down

you just turned down his date

you've kinda noticed hes more reserved now

quiet

but rlly hes just kind of embarrassed

until u say something that gives him hope

‘I,, uh, I dont have plans tomorrow night’

and ngl boy is stunned

‘just if u wanted to go see a movie or something idk’

now its ur turn to be embarrassed

u hope ur hair is hiding ur face as u look back down at the book in ur lap bc no doubt ur blushing

but sicheng is just staring at you

and

before even saying anything

he leans over the gap between you

with all the books

and hovers in front of your face

ur so shocked and ur heart is beating way too hard and fast and ur breathing is too quick to be normal are you having an attack I dont know-

and then he leans forward a little bit more

and his lips meet yours

and suddenly its like a fireworks display went off inside you

and then its almost midnight on a Thursday night and ur sitting in the children's section of your workplace in the beanbags with sicheng cupping ur face and kissing you

he just really needed to kiss you

like more than he needed air

and when u finally pull back

he loves how breathless you are

how you have to fight to keep the smile off your face

how you stare at him with wide eyes

‘so its a date then?’

you blush even redder

and nod

‘ye its a date :))’

but for the next fifteen minutes you sit in stunned silence together

small smiles playing on your faces

until u look at your watch and ur like

‘shit sicheng I have to go’

and his eyes widen bc holy crap u were supposed to leave like half an hour ago

so u both sprint around the library trying to put all the books back

and he meets you at the door again after you've grabbed the keys and made sure everything that needed to be locked was,,, u know,, locked

and when ur walkign to the door again

hes on his phone

u cant see but hes texting his friends about what happened lmao what a softie

and when u walk out together

without thinking he grabs your hand

and u walk home

hand in hand

after midnight

he clears his throat

‘so uh,, when actually is our date’

‘my last class ends at 5-’

‘so 5 it is’

‘are u sure??’

he nods happily

and he presses a gentle kiss to ur forehead when u get to ur doorstep

‘ill see u tomorrow’

but the next day

when u come out of your last class

a little giddy

a little too excited

and see him leaning against one of the stone pillars

effortlessly handsome

you feel your heart flip

and maybe ur just tired or maybe its him

but hes really attractive

like really really attractive

its actually just that youre in love with him

he doesnt see you coming

too focused on something on his phone

but he definitely sees you when you push his hand out to the side and step onto ur toes to kiss him

and u can feel him smile a little as he kisses you back

‘ready for that date?’

‘yeah, where are we going’

‘so I was thinking we could go to the libra- HEY! dont hit me I was j o k i n g y/n jesus christ’

215 notes · View notes

dreamsafterhours · 5 years ago

Text

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: I (mark’s pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff pairing: platonic!donghyuk+my/n format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college best friend warnings: n/a

please read the prologue before reading!

masterlist

or click here to meet your new best friend, eng lit!mark :))

0 ⇤ | I | ⇥ II

I: the fateful meetings

the beginning of the companionship between donghyuk + my/n

donghyuk is kinda late

on the first day

to the first lecture

of the first semester you get it

anyways, in case you didn’t notice, he’s late

not rlllllly late it just seemed like it bc the prof started a couple minutes earlier than scheduled and he walked in alone afterwards

and besides, he isn’t the last person into the lecture theatre anyways

so he walked into the lecture theatre cursing the architect who designed the room so that the entrances were at the front at either end of the stage so everyone could see who walked in and out

luckily, since it was the first day, the prof excuses him bc he was likely a first year who got lost

but he’s technically a second year who only just decided on a major so here he is, taking a first year biology subject

so by the time he walks in, the only available seat closest to the entrance he walked in from is next to yours fate wills it so

so he sits there with a small smile at you but didn’t really bother you afterwards until

the prof’s reading out the syllabus and key dates and even tho you’ve already got it all outlined in your prewritten notes off the subject handbook, you listen intently to make sure you didn’t miss anything

the boy next to you starts rummaging around his bag and stops, then lets out a disbelieving exhale under his breath

you notice and look over at him

he makes eye contact and laughs a little harder, making you smile

“did you forget something?”

“i’ve forgotten my laptop in my dorm...” he tells you in a whisper, screwing his eyes shut and tilting his head back in disbelief

you have to stifle a laugh “oh no... do you have a class right after this?”

he shakes his head no, “i have an hour free, thank god.. i’ll run back and get it later”

you turn back to the professor, but you find it against your conscience to just leave it at that

"do you... want me to send my notes over to your email?”

“ah, that’s fine. this lecture should only be about the syllabus anyway, i can find that online. thanks, tho” he adds, nodding and shooting you a grin

since the prof started a tad earlier than scheduled, they finished early and gave some time for you to “introduce yourselves to the person next to you”

so you turn to him because the girl next to you had already become acquainted with the person on her other side

“i’m donghyuk. second year here, but i just chose my major, so i’m taking first year classes this year.”

you nod, “my/n, i’m first year. yeah.”

“cool. i thought so,” he nods back

“was it the first year subject that gave it away?”

“nah, it was the fact that you had prewritten notes of the syllabus but actually listened to the prof”

you laugh, “touché”

a short silence you lowkey hate silence but most of the time you rely on the other person to keep the conversation going unless you’re super close and you have a lot to talk about

“so what major did you choose?”

“med, to get into paediatrics”

you light up, “ooh! i’m thinking of med too”

“really?? nice, any field you’re thinking of?”

“i’m considering midwifery or nursing, actually”

he naturally offers a fist bump and you’re glad it’s not awkward

“eyy! let’s save the children! you deliver them, i’ll treat them. maybe we’ll have children ourselves and you teach me how to deliver” he grins jokingly

you laugh and decide he’s easy enough to talk to bc you lowkey didn’t realise he meant your own children like between you two

“no, but seriously, this is like one of those cheesy movies, we could be partners in med and then partners wed”

a short pause as you process

“nah i’m kidding lol.. unless” stop flirting with the wrong girl donghyuk

he giggles at your reaction and you realise he’s actually joking so you decide to join in

“oh my god we’re moving too fast donghyuk” to which he laughs out loud

by the end of the lecture, you realise that maybe he’s like this with everyone he meets and in the next lecture, he’ll sit somewhere else and befriend other people like this so you decide not to make any promises to sit next to each other but

“do you have insta?”

“oh—yeah, give me a sec”

you fish your phone out of your bag and let him type in his user

“thanks for offering to send me the notes, by the way, i owe you one”

you shake your hands in front of you “oh, that’s fine, don’t worry about it”

“nah, let me know if you need something”

so you consider

“actually.. you said you had a free hour after this right”

“yeah”

“can you show me where this building is.. i still can’t find it and i’ve got that class next”

“oh yeah sure”

so he walks you to the building and on the way, you pass his dorm (he insists he’ll get his laptop after he drops you off since you don’t have time to wait) so when he points it out, you say that your dorm is just across from his

“oh, you live on campus?”

“yeah! i really like my roommate”

“that’s good. my roommate’s old” sry mark

“how old?”

“third year”

“that’s not old!”

“he’s already groaning about a sore back when he gets out of bed tell me he’s not getting old”

anyways he drops you to the building and tells you to text him if you don’t know where a building is

then you arrive at your dorm after your last class, your roommate comes in and tells you about this third year she met in her first year class and you tell her about the new friend you made, laughing about how he highkey flirted with you on the first meeting

you find that he’s accepted your follow request and liked your one post

if you were told that you would be best friends in a couple of weeks

you.. could honestly believe that , because of how well your humour code matched his and how he was good at leading conversations and seeing the fact that you were comfortable enough to make your own semi flirtatious remarks back, you were going to become very close very fast

but oh well ,, let’s see how this plays out

click here to meet eng lit!mark :))

0 ⇤ | I | ⇥ II

#dreamwritersnet #neohours #neowriters #nct au #nct 127 au #nct dream au #markhyuck #markhyuck au #markhyuck x reader #mark x reader #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct college #nct college au #eng lit mark #paediatrics haechan

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didanawisgi · 7 years ago

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The Odyssey is about a man. It says so right at the beginning — in Robert Fagles’s 1996 translation, for example, the poem opens with the line, “Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns.”

In the course of the poem, that man plots his return home after fighting the Trojan War, slaughters the suitors vying to marry his wife Penelope, and reestablishes himself as the head of his household.

But the Odyssey is also about other people: Penelope, the nymph Calypso, the witch Circe, the princess Nausicaa; Odysseus’s many shipmates who died before they could make it home; the countless slaves in Odysseus’s house, many of whom are never named.

Emily Wilson, the first woman to translate the Odyssey into English, is as concerned with these surrounding characters as she is with Odysseus himself. Written in plain, contemporary language and released earlier this month to much fanfare, her translationlays bare some of the inequalities between characters that other translations have elided. It offers not just a new version of the poem, but a new way of thinking about it in the context of gender and power relationships today. As Wilson puts it, “the question of who matters is actually central to what the text is about.”

Why it matters for a woman to translate the Odyssey

Composed around the 8th century BC, the Odyssey is one of the oldest works of literature typically read by an American audience; for comparison, it’s almost 2,000 years older than Beowulf. While the Iliad tells the story of the Trojan War, the Odyssey picks up after the war is over, when Odysseus, the king of Ithaca, is trying to make his way home.

Both poems are traditionally attributed to the Greek poet Homer, but since they almost certainly originated as oral performances and not written texts, it’s hard to tell whether a single person composed them, or whether they are the result of many different creators and performers refining and contributing to a story over a period of time. (The introduction to Wilson’s translation includes a longer discussion of the question of who “Homer” was.)

Wilson, a professor of classical studies at the University of Pennsylvania, has also translated plays by the ancient Greek playwright Euripides and the Roman philosopher Seneca. Her translation of the Odyssey is one of many in English (though the others have been by men), including versions by Fagles, Robert Fitzgerald, Richmond Lattimore, and more. Translating the long-dead language Homer used — a variant of ancient Greek called Homeric Greek — into contemporary English is no easy task, and translators bring their own skills, opinions, and stylistic sensibilities to the text. The result is that every translation is different, almost a new poem in itself.

A battlefield epic, the Iliad has very few major female characters. The Odyssey, however, devotes significant time to the life (and even the dreams) of Penelope. Circe, Calypso, and the goddess Athena all play important roles. This was one of the reasons I was drawn to the Odyssey as a teenager, and why I’ve returned to it many times over the years.

But the Odyssey is hardly a feminist text. Odysseus may have trouble getting home, but at least he gets to travel the world and have sex with beautiful women like Calypso and Circe. Penelope, meanwhile, has to wait around while boorish suitors drink and carouse in her family’s home, pressuring her to marry one of them. To buy time, she says she can’t marry until she finishes weaving a funeral shroud for her father-in-law, but every night she undoes the day’s work, making the task last as long as she can. “His work always gets him somewhere,” Wilson told me. “Her work is all about undoing. It’s all about hiding herself, hiding her desires, and creating something whose only purpose is to get nowhere.”

Some feminist readings of the Odyssey have tried to cast Penelope as heroic in her own way, sometimes by comparing her to Odysseus. “I think there’s so many things wrong with that,” Wilson said. “She’s constantly still being judged by, is she like him.” What’s more, the heroic-Penelope reading focuses on a wealthy woman at the expense of the many enslaved women in the poem, some of whom meet an untimely and brutal end. When Odysseus returns home and kills all the suitors, he also tells his son Telemachus to kill the slave women who had sex with (or were raped by) the suitors. “Hack at them with long swords, eradicate / all life from them,” Odysseus says in Wilson’s translation. “They will forget the things / the suitors made them do with them in secret.”

As a woman, Wilson believes she comes to the Odyssey with a different perspective than translators who have gone before her. “Female translators often stand at a critical distance when approaching authors who are not only male, but also deeply embedded in a canon that has for many centuries been imagined as belonging to men,” she wrote in a recent essay at the Guardian. She called translating Homer as a woman an experience of “intimate alienation.”

“Earlier translators are not as uncomfortable with the text as I am,” she explained to me, “and I like that I’m uncomfortable.” Part of her goal with the translation was to make readers uncomfortable too — with the fact that Odysseus owns slaves, and with the inequities in his marriage to Penelope. Making these aspects of the poem visible, rather than glossing over them, “makes it a more interesting text,” she said.

Wilson’s translation is different from its predecessors in subtle — and not so subtle — ways

Part of the way Wilson challenges previous readings of the Odyssey is with style. Her translation made a splash months before it was published, when an excerpt ran in the summer 2017 issue of the Paris Review. I and other Odyssey fans were excited by Wilson’s opening line: “Tell me about a complicated man.” In its matter-of-fact language, it’s worlds different from Fagles’s “Sing to me of the man, Muse,” or Robert Fitzgerald’s 1961 version, “Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story / of that man skilled in all ways of contending.” Wilson chose to use plain, relatively contemporary language in part to “invite readers to respond more actively with the text,” she writes in a translator’s note. “Impressive displays of rhetoric and linguistic force are a good way to seem important and invite a particular kind of admiration, but they tend to silence dissent and discourage deeper modes of engagement.”

“There’s an idea that Homer has to sound heroic and ancient,” Wilson told me, but that idea comes with a value system attached, one that includes “endorsing this very hierarchical kind of society as if that’s what heroism is.” Telling the story in plainer language allows readers to see Odysseus and his society in another light.

There are flashes of beauty in Wilson’s Odyssey. “The early Dawn was born,” she writes in Book 2; “her fingers bloomed.” Of the forest on Calypso’s island, where many birds nest, she writes, “It was full of wings.” But throughout the book, there’s a frankness to Wilson’s language around work and the people who do it. Of Eurymedusa, a slave in the house of princess Nausicaa, she writes, “She used to babysit young Nausicaa / and now she lit her fire and cooked her meal.”

The slaves in older translations of the Odyssey do not “babysit” — often, they’re not identified as slaves at all. Fagles, for instance, calls Eurymedusa a “chambermaid.” Fitzgerald calls her a “nurse.” “It sort of stuns me when I look at other translations,” Wilson said, “how much work seems to go into making slavery invisible.”

Wilson, by contrast, uses the word “slave” for Eurymedusa and many other enslaved characters, even when the original uses a more specific term. The Homeric Greek dmoe, or “female-house-slave,” Wilson writes in her translator’s note, could be translated as “maid” or “domestic servant,” but those terms would imply that the woman was free. “The need to acknowledge the fact and the horror of slavery,” she writes, “and to mark the fact that the idealized society depicted in the poem is one where slavery is shockingly taken for granted, seems to me to outweigh the need to specify, in every instance, the type of slave.”

While Wilson’s language is often plain, it’s also carefully chosen. She told Wyatt Mason at the New York Times magazine she could have begun the poem with the line “Tell me about a straying husband,” an even more radical choice that would still have been “a viable translation.” But, she said, “it would give an entirely different perspective and an entirely different setup for the poem.” She spoke, Mason noted, with “the firmness of someone making hard choices she believes in.”

Those choices show up clearly in her treatment of Penelope. Penelope is a frustrating character — it’s not entirely clear why she doesn’t simply send the suitors away or marry one of them, and the poem offers limited access to her thoughts and feelings. Wilson didn’t try to make Penelope easier to understand — “the opacity of Penelope,” as she puts it, is one of the aspects of the poem she wants to trouble readers and make them uncomfortable.

But small details can tell us something about even the most frustrating of characters. At one point in Book 21, Penelope unlocks the storeroom where Odysseus keeps his weapons — as Wilson writes in her translator’s note, this act sets in motion the slaughter of the suitors and the resolution of the poem. As she picks up the key, Homer describes her hand as pachus, or “thick.” “There is a problem here,” Wilson writes, “since in our culture, women are not supposed to have big, thick, or fat hands.” Translators have usually solved the problem by skipping the adjective, or putting in something more traditional — Fagles mentions Penelope’s “steady hand.” Wilson, however, renders the moment this way: “Her muscular, firm hand/ picked up the ivory handle of the key.”

“Weaving does in fact make a person’s hands more muscular,” she writes. “I wanted to ensure that my translation, like the original, underlines Penelope’s physical competence, which marks her as a character who plays a crucial part in the action — whether or not she knows what she is doing.”

Wilson does not give Penelope more agency or power than she has in the original poem, but she also does not take any of the queen’s original power away by making descriptions of her conform to modern gender stereotypes.

“Part of fighting misogyny in the current world is having a really clear sense of what the structures of thought and the structures of society are that have enabled androcentrism in different cultures, including our own,” Wilson said, and the Odyssey, looked at in the right way, can help readers understand those structures more clearly. The poem offers a “defense of a male dominant society, a defense of its own hero and his triumph over everybody else,” she said, “but it also seems to provide these avenues for realizing what’s so horrible about this narrative, what’s missing about this narrative.”

Recent events have led to a widespread debate over how audiences should consume the work of people we know to be abusers of women. This is intertwined with the question of how we should consume art that has racist, sexist, or otherwise bigoted elements. Often elided from this conversation is the fact that people of color and women of all races have been consuming racist and sexist art in America for generations (in many classes on Western literature, for instance, they have had little choice), and developing their own responses to it, responses that are often deeply nuanced.

Conservative talk of “special snowflakes” demanding trigger warnings ignores the fact that people marginalized in the Western canon have long read literature from it in exactly the way Wilson describes: both as an endorsement of its author’s values, and as evidence of how horrible those values can be, and whom they leave out.

Wilson’s translation, then, is not a feminist version of the Odyssey. It is a version of the Odyssey that lays bare the morals of its time and place, and invites us to consider how different they are from our own, and how similar.

#emily wilson #odyssey #Greek Mythology #linguistics #ancient greece #mythology #poetry

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