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gretagolden · 2 years

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platonic | josh kiszka

josh kiszka x fem!reader (or oc to be entirely honest, you can read it however you prefer)

summary: josh’s relationship with his best friend isn’t entirely platonic, and when the holidays make the drinks go down smoother, the things that go unspoken slip from tongues more freely. | word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, hangovers, angst-ish, an undercurrent of smut of you squint – talk of sex/suggestive at best. 18+ though please!

notes: i was reading @ageoftambourine danny fic based on normal people like, last week? and anyways, it inspired me to do something based on the couple scenes that followed the one they wrote about! it kind of took a life of it’s own when i started to write it, but if you know the book/show i still think it’s pretty obvious – so inspiration credits fully to them and “normal people” by sally rooney. the spotify code should scan you to ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift, it’s mostly for the aesthetic, but if that’s your jam, by all means! <3

she woke up to the sun shining through the window above the couch she lay on, her head pounding from the hostile morning light and the even more abrasive memories from the night before.

god, she’d embarrassed herself. what had happened to just being josh’s friend? clearly it didn’t matter to her when she was drunk. she could remember it faintly in her memory now, asking him if the new girl she’d heard he was seeing was as good as she had been — practically begging him to sleep with her again, like they used to back in school. fuck. he’d blushed, but had just been amused by her nonetheless. he hadn’t taken her seriously in the slightest. she couldn’t tell if that was better or worse.

she groaned then, both from her drunken shamelessness and the hungover condition it had left her in, reaching down to the velvet burgundy purse on the wooden floor next to couch she’d crashed on. she dug around for her phone without looking, and once she found it, clicked it on to reveal it had 5% battery left and a single, rare text from josh that read: “i’m coming back in the morning to bring you home. let me know when you’re up.”

she sighed, replied to the imessage with a thumbs up reaction out of a loss for what else to say, and clicked it off to reabandon it in her purse. she sat up and remained there for a moment, head in her hands as the hazy memories slowly began to come back. when she pulled her hands away, she looked at the flaking mascara residue on her palms and decided then that she didn’t even want to know how she looked, avoiding her reflection in mirrors as she followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen.she thanked whatever soul had been sober enough to wake up and put a pot on, and hardly even cared that she was pouring lukewarm coffee into a red solo cup.

she couldn’t do this every time he came home from tour. thinking it would be better to just be friends with him when he was going away, and immediately folding once he came back. was it folding if she initiated it? josh certainly didn’t seem to mind, either way. she had tried to resist him this time around, keep it strictly friends over the holidays the way they had been for the past year or so while she’d found another boyfriend — the boyfriend she broke up with forty five minutes before josh picked her up for the party. clearly that had been enough, she had swallowed her dignity and self resolve down with her third shot.

she couldn’t help it, she had been mesmerized by him since she was a teenager. my god, she thought, when he looked at her it was like she was the only thing in the world he cared about. it was as though she was a ritual of comfort for him upon coming back, like touching her body was the moment he knew he was home — he reveled in it, even though he’d spent years at this point convincing himself that it was just some extreme sort of platonic adoration that they’d been the only ones on earth to figure out how to unlock. he’d told her that once, when he was drunk. she wished she could be as eloquent as he was when she was wasted.

she’d found a way to distill it her mind; he was her best friend, she loved him in the way any best friend would love him. her favorite necklace simply also just happened to be his hand. now even thinking about it made her head pound, she couldn’t blame that solely on the hangover.

she had slipped so deep into her thoughts she barely registered the other person who’d slipped into the kitchen quietly — a random boy, tired eyes and clad in a university of michigan hoodie and basketball shorts in the dead of winter. he gave her a curt nod and an awkward half-smile, and she returned the favor as she slid a few feet over from where she had leaned against the counter in front of the coffee pot so that he could access it.

“sorry,” she muttered quietly. “no worries.” he offered. she nodded again slightly before zoning out again, staring at the white door of the kitchen, her eyes far off into space. when her phone dinged again, the other man was still in the kitchen as he poured cereal into a cheap bowl. she slipped out of the room unnoticed under the sound of frosted flakes landing against the synthetic plastic.

josh was waiting for her by the path outside as she wrapped her coat around the velvet wrap dress she’d convinced herself would be warm enough the night before in a vodka haze after she’d left her boyfriends house. the sun made her squint at her first unobstructed view of it, and josh couldn’t help but smile slightly at her reaction. “hey, pet.” he greeted her as she approached him, biting his lip back to suppress the smile that threaten to slip out at his friends’ obviously embarrassed demeanor. he looked at the red cup in her hands, “feelin’ alright?”

she was hardly ever this demure. she blushed slightly and shook her head in embarassment as she stopped in front of her, she handed him the cup. she sighed, and made a small groan of dissatisfaction at herself as she put her head in her hands. “josh.” she whined.

he breathed out a laugh then, pulled his other arm out of his pocket to reach out with his hand and pull her into him. she let him, leaning her face down into where his neck met his chest, her hands still covering her face and forcing a barrier between them. “i’m sorry.” she whispered.

“nothin’ to be sorry for.” he shook his head and wrapped his arm around her

she turned her head to the side, “it’s gonna be hard for us to be friends if i’m constantly trying to sleep with you.”

“when was the first time you kissed me? sixteen, i think. we’ve been handling it okay.” he teased her, and then she groaned, pushing away from him. he followed, “it’s fine, really.”

she’d begun to walk to his car parked on the curb. he rushed around to be in front of her, walking backwards. he continued, “you were just drunk.”

“i was being foolish.” she rationed.

josh had leaned up against the passenger side of the door in between the car and his friend. he put the cup on the roof. she stood in front of him, and he took the opportunity to get a good look at her. flustered and pretty. he liked her like this, with her guard down and the shy sun of morning behind her. “i didn’t think so.”

“you laughed at me.” she returned, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket

josh took a deep breathe and looked up, “christ. i didn’t — it wasn’t malicious. i don’t ever think you’re foolish.” he reasoned evenly. he wasn’t mad, he was just talking. as horrible as they were with expressing genuine feelings, they could always do that; just talk. “i take you more seriously than i take the fucking band — but i wasn’t going to fuck you while you were drunk. i laughed because you had me flustered — you don’t say those kind of things usually.”

“i think those kind of things.” she told him, without thinking. and then she winced, and looked down at her shoes to avoid his gaze. of course she’d gone and done it, embarrassed herself again.

josh swallowed hard. this is what she always did to him, without even meaning to. the raw moments of honesty when things just fell out of her mouth — they made him buckle at the knees. as long as he’d known her, she’d always seemed so careful: so self-assured, measured, disciplined. and then there were the rare moments, like the one standing in front of him. it was a sliver of her he liked to believe only he had access to. it let him convince himself that he had the same effect on her that she had on him; the one that made him lose every inhibition he’d ever built.

“come to mine.” he said, after silently chewing the inside of his mouth for some time. she could tell from his voice, it wasn’t a demand — it was never a demand. but she could never turn away his requests, either.

her head snapped up at his words, “what?” she questioned quietly

“you don’t have that boyfriend anymore, do you?” he asked.

she stood there, suddenly at a lost for words. she shook her head. he stepped back, and opened up the passenger side door, “get in the car.”

he looked at her. he was the only man who had never had to ask her twice.

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oliviaischillin1204 · 3 years

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jelly cookies

Pairings: Platonic LAMP

Word Count: 2,106 words

despite Crofter’s being a main influence on this fic, it wasn’t inspired by the most recent video (which is why it doesn’t reference it at all). in reality, this is based on this one random ask that someone sent to August like,,,,, 11 and a half months ago LMAOOOOO. so yeah. fun times!

(also i guess tw for minor references to over eating, but it’s not graphic nor does it last long)

Logan was minding his own business as he made his way to the living room, when something grabbed him by the tie and yanked him into the kitchen.

“Ack-- what?” he stammered, before someone shoved a finger to his lips.

“Shhh!”

Loagn pulled back, eyeing the other side with irritation. “Roman, what are you doing?”

“I said shush, Pocket Protector!” Roman insisted, pointing to the kitchen counter with intention. Logan followed his gaze to see a tray of cookies on a cooling rack, freshly made and definitely delicious.

Logan turned to Roman, eyebrow quirked. “And you decided the two of us need to spy on Patton’s batch of cookies because...?”

“Because,” Roman replied, leaning close and speaking lowly, “I overheard him telling Virgil about these cookies. He said they’re jelly cookies, Logan!”

Logan’s eyes darted back ove to the counter, and now that he was looking closer, he noticed a nearly-empty jar of Crofter’s Jam sitting on the counter next to his other ingredients.

“... Ah,” Logan stated after a moment. “I must admit, the idea of jam-filled cookies is ingenious, and... incredibly tempting.”

Roman nodded slowly. “Patton said it was a surprise for us. We should-- we should probably wait for him and Virgil to come back before we eat them, right?”

Logan blinked, dragging his gaze back to Roman’s face. “Right. Of course. We should... wait. Definitely.”

They nodded at each other for a few beats. The scent of warm Logan’s Berry jam wafted through the air.

“... Or we could try a couple--”

“-- To ensure that they are satisfactory, yes, I agree completely.”

That was how Patton and Virgil found them 10 minutes later: Logan and Roman hunched over the tray, crumbs scattering the counter as they shoved the last two cookies into their mouths.

“Oh-- oh! Kiddos, what are you doing?” Patton’s voice made them look up, guilt and jam all over their faces. Patton and Virgil stood in the doorway, Patton with his hands on his hips, Virgil with his jaw hanging open.

“Dude, did you guys seriously eat all of the cookies Patton made?” Virgil asked incredulously.

“We--” Roman started, before looking at the tray with befuddlement. “Did we really eat them all?”

Logan coughed, wiping a bit of jam off of his cheek and licking his thumb clean. “We apologize, Patton, truly. We didn’t intend to eat the entire batch without you. We merely... got carried away,” he finished, slightly embarrassed.

Virgil scoffed. “And to think Patton wanted to do something nice for you,” he said, crossing his arms and shooting the cookie thieves a faux-stern look. “You two better be sorry.”

“Oh, I think they’ll be sorry soon,” Patton said softly, a strange look on his face. Something about his tone made all three of them look at him.

Logan furrowed his brow, one hand idly rubbing his full stomach. “I beg your pardon, Patton?”

Patton met Logan’s eyes, a small smile on his face.

“I said,” he repeated, “I think the two of you will be sorry you ate all those cookies very soon.”

Logan opened his mouth, probably to reply that he had already apologized for the both of them, but suddenly his entire body twitched, his hand gripping his stomach a little tighter.

“What--?”

“I was going to tell you,” Patton said in fond exasperation, waving a hand around, “that that was a brand new recipe, with a special ingredient just for you two!”

Roman’s hand went to his stomach now as well. He felt a strange warmth bubbling up inside of him, making his stomach flip in an oddly familiar way.

“I-- um-- what ingredient, Padre?” he asked, aiming for casual but failing, feeling his legs start to go a little weak beneath him.

Patton hummed. “A little Crofter’s.” He looked between Logan and Roman, and his smile grew even more. “And a little magic.”

Logan and Roman jolted in unision, confused smiles coming to their faces.

“Sorry, what--?”

“What do you mean, magic?”

“Oh my God,” Virgil said suddenly, eyes widening in delight. He pointed between Roman and Logan, laughing a little as he announced, “They’re tickle cookies!”

Both Logan’s and Roman’s eyes widened. They looked at Patton, whose small shrug and cheeky smile provided them no reassurance.

“Well, I know you two get too embarrassed to ask for tickles,” Patton explained, smile growing as he watched Logan begin to shift his weight back and forth, while Roman’s breath started coming faster and faster, “so I wanted to make it a little easier for you to get them! Why did you think I called them ‘Jel-Lee Cookies’?”

Logan and Roman froze. They slowly turned to look at each other.

Roman grinned sheepishly. “Hey--”

“You-- you are figuratively dead.” Logan’s threatening words were completely ruined by the huff of laughter he let slip halfway through his sentence. His hands gripped his stomach, but it was useless: it was like he could feel a wave of tickles rippling across his midriff from his very core, and no amount of covering his skin could protect him from those sensations.

“Can I just say? This is pretty fucking hilarious,” Virgil interjected from where he sat atop the counter, his chin in his hand as he watched the chaos.

Roman shot him as much of a scowl as he could muster. “Oh, be quiet, you Hot Topic re-eject!”

He leaped forward, his body moving instinctively as he felt something fluttering at the back of his ribs. But, of course, there was nothing there; the tickles were coming from somewhere deep inside him, and he couldn’t escape himself. He wheezed, hands belatedly slamming over his mouth, as he crumpled to the ground in a flustered heap.

Logan was quick to follow him to the ground: he, too, rocked back and forth in a desperate attempt to ease the tickles coming from inside his core, but unlike Roman he couldn’t pry his arms away from his sides. He knew, logically, that he couldn’t protect himself from the waves of tickles running across his sides, ribs, and stomach, but that knowledge wasn’t enought to keep him from clawing at the invisible tickles over and over again.

“So...” Virgil said with a shit-eating grin. “What’s gonna happen now, Pat?”

“I don’t know, Virge!” Patton replied. “I didn’t plan for them to eat them all at once! Gosh, I wonder if that’ll make the tickles even more tickly? What do you think, Logan?”

Logan couldn’t answer; he was too busy squealing and desperately kicking his legs, despite knowing that there was nothing he could do to distract himself from the tickles.

“Pat-- Pat-- Patton!” Roman giggled, writhing on his back on the floor. “Please-- please, help us!”

“I don’t know how!” Patton replied, not looking bothered in the slightest. “I didn’t put enough in there to actually hurt you guys, but it looks like you’re just gonna have to wait this one out, gang.”

Logan shook his head, his entire face taken up by a giddy smile. “Cahahan’t! Can’t wait! Plehehehease!”

Virgil hummed, suddenly leaning forwards to cast a sly smile down at the two gigglebugs.

“Hey, Pat, what was that Logan was telling you a few nights ago?” he asked, speaking to Patton as if there weren’t two helpless lees laughing their hearts out on the floor. “Something about a study he read, about how digestion can be sped up by ‘tactile stimulation of the abdomen’?”

Patton quirked his head. His gaze darted between the two lees on the floor, wriggling around and squealing like pigs.

“Do you mean when he got Roman to hold me down while he tickled all over my tummy?” he asked slowly. “Cause I remember that very well. They said it was just to help my stomachache after eating too much at dinner, but I think they were just being meanies, huh?”

Logan and Roman shot each other frightened looks through their laughter, especially as Virgil hopped off the counter and Patton crouched down to the floor.

“Maybe we can help them?” Virgil asked, rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. Patton was already nodding, arms reaching for the closest lee on the floor, which just so happened to be Logan.

“Time to help your tummy-ache!” he cooed sweetly, but Logan gasped, weakly crawling backwards.

“Nohohoho-- no! Dohoho-- dohohon’t--”

He couldn’t even manage to get his pleas out through his laughter, instead collapsing back on the floor as he gasped for breath.

But to their surprise, Roman was already nodding, smiling wide as he practically pulled Virgil closer to him by his hoodie.

“Hehehe-- help me! Hehehelp mehehehe!” he begged. Virgil blinked for just a second before his face split into an evil grin.

“Oh, you don’t even have to ask, Princey,” he said darkly, and then he pounced, fingers digging and wiggling into the middle of Roman’s tummy.

Roman howled, head dropping back as his arms jerked to push Virgil away.

“Nahahaha-- huhuhurry-- plehehehease!” he pleaded. He threw his body from side to side, but Virgil followed him all too easily, massaging his stomach and cooing over his blushing face.

Logan watched the two of them through his own gasping laughter, so he was wholly unprepared for the feeling of two hands gripping him just above his hips. His laughter spiked dramatically.

“Nohohoho!” he begged Patton, who was kneeling above him with a half-sympathetic, half-evil look on his face. “No, nonono, dohohon’t--”

“Aw, Logan,” Patton cooed with a teasy smile. “You just need to relax, bud. It’ll be over sooner if you do.”

He paired the reassurance with massaging his thumbs deeply into Logan’s lower stomach, right above his pantline. Logan shrieked, hands shooting down and shoving desperately at Patton’s tickly grip to no avail.

“Tickle, tickle, Logan,” Patton sang. He rubbed small circles into Logan’s tummy chub. “That’s right, get all those little giggles out. Let it out, there you go.”

On the other side, Roman gave a particularly loud snort when Virgil tazed either side of his bellybutton. His arms finally jerked down out of his control and shoved the hands away.

Virgil scoffed. “You asked for my help, Princey,” he reminded him as he pried Roman’s arms away from his torso and pinned them under his knees. “You begged me to help you get rid of all the tickles, and I won’t stop until you're all tickled out."

Together, Virgil and Patton wiggled and buzzed their fingers all over Roman's and Logan's tummies, keeping them begging and pleading through their squealing laughter. For Logan and Roman, they didn't know which was worse: the teasy tickles coming from Patton and Virgil, or the pulsing tickles coming from within themselves. They couldn't get away from either of them, and both were driving them metaphorically crazy.

Luckily for the two tickled-out sides, Patton and Virgil’s theory proved to be correct: the more they tickled all over Roman and Logan’s abdomens, the less they felt the waves of magic tickles coming from inside them.

“Ssstohop,” Roman panted, weakly batting at Virgil’s hands. “I’m gohohood-- I’m good.”

Virgil immediately acquiesced, pulling his hands back and propping his chin on his hand to give Roman a shit-eating grin. Paton pulled away, too-- only to shoot down to Logan’s tummy and give him a sudden, noisy raspberry, shocking him into giving one last shriek of laughter.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “I couldn’t help it.”

It took several seconds for Logan to catch his breath enough to respond. “Whyhyhy?”

Patton beamed as he sat back up. “What’s wrong, Logan? I thought you liked raspberries.”

His words made both Logan and Roman whine again, both from the tease and from the reminder of their cookie mistake.

“We learned our lesson,” Roman insisted. He was busy covering as much of his face as possible, although his flushed cheeks were still visible behind his fingers.

“And what lesson was that, tickle addict?” Virgil asked, smirking when Roman peeked out to glare at him

“No more stealing random cookies,” he said sullenly. Logan nodded, arms still clutching his midriff like he still felt the phantom tickles.

“Apologies, again, Patton--” he started, but the moral side waved him off.

“No need to be sorry, ticklebugs!” he chirped. “Besides...”

He drifted off as he leaned back, craning his neck to look at something on the counter. The others followed his gaze to a small kitchen timer.

“The second batch will be ready in about two minutes,” Patton announced. He turned back to the lees on the floor, smile as sweet as Crofter’s jam.

“Who’s ready for a second helping?”

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #jelly cookies #lee!logan #lee!roman #ler!patton #ler!virgil #THIS HAS BEEN A WIP LITERALLY SINCE LAST APRIL LMAOOOO #this is fun i've forgotten abt some of these wips

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evermoreholland · 3 years

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Kiss Me | Charlie Gillespie

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x Fem!Reader

Summary: Charlie tells you that he loves you for the first time.

Warnings: Just fluff.

Word Count: 1,352

A/n: This was requested by an anon and it includes Charlie singing Ed Sheeran’s “Kiss me” so you can listen to that while you read this fic if you want.

Charlie wanted to make sure that he had planned the best date for your six month anniversary. Charlie had been waiting for this day for a while because today was the day he was going to tell you that he loved you. He had known for a long time, but he wanted to make sure that the moment was perfect for you.

He was planning on taking you out to your favorite restaurant. After that, he would take you to the park the two of you went on your first date to sing to you and then say the three words he has been waiting to say to you. Charlie had no idea what you’re reaction would be. Both of you were pretty open with each other about how you were feeling, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious. Charlie had planned everything to the exact minute. He wanted this important moment to be perfect.

“Y/n, are you almost done getting ready?” Charlie called out from downstairs. He was waiting for you to go to the restaurant.

“Coming, babe!” You shouted from the top of the staircase and made your way down to greet your boyfriend. Charlie was there to meet you at the bottom. He looked at you and you could’ve sworn that he was tearing up a bit.

“Are you crying, Charlie?” You asked in disbelief. You knew Charlie to be soft at times, but not like this. This was a whole new level, but you still thought it was cute.

“You’re just so beautiful.”

“And you’re so cheesy,” you said as you playfully pinched his cheek. Charlie grabbed your hand and led both of you to the door to leave for your date.

“Ready to go, princess?” Charlie asked as he grabbed his coat and then handed you yours.

“Yeah.” You went to his car and you were on your way to the restaurant.

“I can’t believe that we have been together for six months already.” You said, breaking the silence in the car. Charlie usually liked jamming out to music in the car, but you liked the radio off so you can both talk to one another.

“I know. It feels like I asked you out only yesterday.” You and Charlie have known each other for a long time now. You had met when you were children and have been pinning over each other for years, but Charlie finally asked you out six months ago.

The rest of the drive to the restaurant was peaceful. Charlie held your hand almost the entire drive, while he hummed the tune to an Ed Sheeran song.

“We’re here, sweetheart,” Charlie said as he got out of the car and went to open the passenger door for you. You both got out and made your way inside the restaurant. You sat at the table and you began to feel a bit of nostalgia.

“I missed coming here,” you said with a smile. You loved the ambiance of this particular restaurant. It was all very romantic.

“Well, feel free to get whatever you want. My treat.”

“You’re seriously not going to let me pay, Charlie?” You knew this place was expensive, and Charlie had other things planned for the two of you tonight, so you wanted to pay the bill.

“Seriously. If you really want to, you can pay the tip.”

“Deal.” You said reaching out your hand for him to shake.

“You’re a dork.” He said as he shook your hand. The waiter came and you both ordered your food. The two of you talked about your day while you waited for your food. Charlie began to become nervous and his hands became sweaty.

“Are you alright?” You asked, concern for your boyfriend.

“Yeah, is it hot in here?” Charlie asked, trying to change the subject.

“Well, I am in the room so it must be,” you joked.

“Haha, very funny.”

“But, seriously, Charlie. Are you sure that you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” He said and you dropped the subject. Your food came and you both ate. After dinner, Charlie paid and then took you to the park where you had your first date.

“Charlie, what are we doing here?” You were happy and excited for what’s to come, but you were curious.

“Just trust me,” He said and went to the trunk of his car to grab his acoustic guitar.

Charlie grabbed your hand and led you to a bench by the slide. “This is the exact same spot where we sat on our first date.” You commented.

“You don’t think I remember, baby?” He said as he pushed some flyaway hairs away from your face.

“I didn’t think you paid that much attention to detail. Guess not.” You giggled.

Charlie began to strum his guitar and you couldn’t help but smile at him. You loved when he would sing and you thought he had the most beautiful voice.

“Can I sing to you?”

“Please,” you answered.

Settle down with me Cover me up Cuddle me in

You couldn’t help but play with the necklace Charlie had bought you for your birthday. You usually played with it when you felt extremely loved by Charlie, and you wished to shout how much you loved him, but you were afraid. The difference is now is that you weren’t so afraid anymore. You were ready to tell him how you truly felt about him.

Lie down with me And hold me in your arms

And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

You knew that Charlie was singing a song, but did he love you? If he didn’t, then why would he pick this song?

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

All you wanted to do was kiss him and tell him how much you loved him, but you didn’t want to interrupt the most perfect moment.

Settle down with me And I'll be your safety You'll be my lady

You couldn’t help but smile at the lyrics. Ed Sheeran songs always made you feel giddy, especially when Charlie would sing them.

Oh no My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed in my neck I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet And with this feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

Yeah I've been feeling everything From hate to love From love to lust From lust to truth I guess that's how I know you So I hold you close to help you give it up

By now, you were crying. Crying about how you found the most perfect guy. Someone who’s so loving, gentle, and kind. Someone who you’re not afraid to be yourself around, and for that, you were extremely grateful.

So kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

Kiss me like you wanna be loved You wanna be loved You wanna be loved This feels like falling in love Falling in love We're falling in love

Charlie ended the song with one of his signature smiles and then placed his guitar to the side of him so he could engulf you in a big hug.

“That was beautiful, Charlie. Thank you.” Charlie wiped the tears running down your face and kissed you gently.

“I love you,” Charlie said to you for the first time in your relationship.

“I love you, too,” you replied, happily.

“That makes me really happy, you know?”

“I’m glad.” You both sat in each other’s arms for a while until you called out to him. “Charlie?”

“Yes, sweets?”

“Kiss me.”

#charlie gillespie blurb #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie #jatp fanfic #jatp #luke patterson

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miracle-sham · 3 years

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Long for Who You Could Have Been.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 4, Day 19: Mistakes} |

———

| They might be monster hunters and that might mean their lives are fraught with chaos and danger. But there were moments in between the contracts and courts, fragile and wavering like the dying embers of a flame; where pasts, and hopes, and dreams were shared in the refuge of the campfire. |

| Word Count: 1,764. |

———

| A/N: So this is my second to last Jasonette July fic but the last to actually be posted in July since the other fic (Prompt: Loss) is taking longer than expected to write, whoops! Anyway here's a shorter Witcher au that's mostly fluff with a tinge of sadness here and there. Definitely feels weird to be using/needing so few tags for the first time in a long while! Lastly, thanks to my friend Saf whose reactions to the snippets I send her, absolutely fuel my will to write! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

The fire crackled gently, flames flickering in soft almost hypnotising patterns. The light and warmth were all that was keeping the chilling coastal mist at bay, from reaching their little makeshift camp.

Crescent moon and stars twinkled above, shining their silvery light down to mix with the ghostly mist below.

It was almost haunting, in the precious silence, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of waves against the cliff rocks not too far away. And the low hum of the local nocturnal bugs and other such creatures; the flap of bat wings, the cry of an owl, the flutter of moths and beetles, the scuttling of hedgehogs, mice, and foxes. The air was still, not even the faintest sea breeze and yet the fret rolled and crept and seeped into every nook and cranny outside of the protective glow of the campfire.

Jason sat on one side of the fire, on his bedroll and worked on cleaning his silver and steel swords with a rag, not quite humming as he quietly mouthed the words to a jaunty little tavern song, the Fishmonger's Daughter.

On the opposite side of the campfire, on her own bedroll, Marinette had a cloak splayed out across her knee with a needle and thread in hand. Tongue sticking out slightly, in concentration, carefully she darned away at the numerous little holes that had formed from walking through the thorny bush filled forest that their current contract had led them into entering.

With a huff, Jason threw the cleaning rag at the saddlebag on the ground beside him. He sheathed his swords and pulled out his favoured weapon, the crossbow with steel and silver-tipped bolts. Immediately he began checking the bolts for any potential damage and ensuring the shooting mechanism on the crossbow hadn't jammed.

“Something on your mind, Blue Jay?” Marinette asked, glancing up from her needlework for a moment.

He tipped his head back and sighed. “I've been thinking…”

“That's new.” She responded, mirth glinting obviously in her eyes and the bubble of laughter in her tone.

Jason gasped in faux offence, mindfully dropping his crossbow and scrambling for the cleaning rag just to throw it at her face.

Before it could hit her, Marinette plucked it out of the air with two fingers. She hummed mock-thoughtfully. “Your aim's off.”

“You take that back! My aim is impeccable. Alfred said so!” He argued back.

She snorted. “Alfred is biased because he's your grandfather figure. And I'll take it back next time we get through an entire contract without you missing a single shot.” To punctuate her point, she tossed the rag back at him.

He half-dived for it, grabbing it with both hands and with it safely in his grasp, placed the rag inside the saddlebag beside him. Throwing his arms up in mock-exasperation, Jason scowled playfully at her. “C'mon! That's not fair, you've never gone an entire contract without messing up or missing with your magic either!”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a nod of her head and a smirk on her lips, “but I've never claimed to be perfect at magic!”

Her words caused him to falter slightly. “Right,” he swallowed a breath of air thickly, “That reminds me of what I was going to say before we got distracted.”

She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows and putting on a softer tone. “What is it? As much as we joke, I'd never actually judge you for missing shots or anything else, you know that right?”

“Yeah, I know… I just.” He huffed in frustration. Hesitantly, he held her gaze with his own but not a second later, winced and shifted his to stare down at the flickering embers of the campfire pit. Avoiding eye contact with her. He clenched his fists. “D'you ever, I don't know, feel like this was all… a mistake?”

Scrunching up her face in confusion, she squinted at Jason. “What do you mean? As-as in taking the contract?”

“No! Well, yes but no. I mean…” He waved an arm, gesturing vaguely around them, “just everything. Becoming a Witcher. Or I guess in your case, a Sorceress. Do you regret it?”

When she didn't immediately respond, Jason huffed again, hunching his shoulders up and practically bristling like a particularly grumpy and grizzling moggy. “Look, never mind. Stupid question.”

“It's not stupid!” Marinette retorted, “I just… wasn't expecting a question like that at this moment.”

He stared at her expectantly. “Well?”

Tipping her head back slightly, she fiddled with the needle still in one hand and sighed. “I suppose I do, I know I shouldn't… but I miss the easy days. Like before I knew what I was capable of. Before I knew what horrors the world could bring. Back when my only worries were getting stitches right and not messing up when dealing with expensive materials. Or maybe having to worry if the Alderman's daughter was going to harass me at some point during the day.”

Marinette tilted her head forwards again, a frown gracing her lips, and shrugged. “What brings this up?”

There's not an immediate response, as Jason casts his gaze away from the fire—towards where the sea could be heard but not seen. His fingers twitched midair, almost as though plucking the strings of an instrument. “I never wanted to be a Witcher. I was a Child Surprise, dunno who was the one that offered the Law of Surprise though.”

“Ah, I sorta get that. I'm also a Child Surprise, didn't get to choose to be a Sorcerer either.” As she spoke, she nodded in solidarity.

Jason jolted, gaze immediately snapping up to stare at her, completely taken aback. “Wait seriously? You're a Child Surprise too? How'd that happen?”

“Well, my parents' bakery was attacked and Félix, y'know my mentor, saved them. He invoked the Law of Surprise, expecting to get bread or some other baked goods.” She snorted, “he was awfully surprised to end up getting me instead. And when I accidentally cast my first ever spell trying to escape the Alderman's daughter, I ended up teleporting to Félix.”

“So, wait Félix fucking invoked the Law of Surprise to get food? And got you instead. Holy fucking shit that's hilarious!” He wheezed, doubling over in raucous laughter.

Huffing, she cast a spell, causing a vine to sprout up out of the ground beside him and slap him on the knee. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!”

“Ouch! Hey, no fair!” Jason mock scowled, choking back any further laughter. Quickly, in retaliation, he cast a weak Aard.

The telekinetic wave knocked into Marinette, pushing her onto her back from the weakened force.

“Wha—! Oh, so the vine isn't fair but throwing me to the ground is!” She griped, crossing her arms (carefully as to not prick herself on the needle) but made no attempt to get up.

Half-shrugging and grinning smugly, he replied, “you started it!”

She made an exaggerated groaning noise in response before slowly shifting her position to push herself back up into sitting cross-legged. “Well, now you know how I became a Sorcerer. How'd being a Child Surprise tie into you ending up a Witcher, if you don't me asking?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged with both shoulders this time, “I tried to steal the infamous Bat of Gotham's horse, he asked me my name. Reluctantly and after some bribery of hot food, I told him. Didn't think to give a fake one, at the time. He made a face, invoked the Law of Surprise owed to him and dragged me back to the Bat Witcher school.”

“Huh,” Marinette responded, “so if you hadn't… what would you have done with your life?”

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? This is me we're talking about. I'd have gone to Bard College, obviously. I'd have written poems and shit. And books, I'd have written books.”

Scrunching up her face once more, Marinette glanced down at the needle in her hand. “We're by the coast.”

“What?” He asked incredulously, giving her a bemused and questioning look. “What does that have to do with poetry and books?”

In a rush of words, she rambled, “we could take a holiday. I could find out about the spell to disguise your eyes… and uh hair too. That way no one will know you're a Witcher. And we can go to the bard college-town that's down the coast from where we are. We can scavenge together enough gold for you to attend, and you can write your poetry and books.”

Jason stared at her in shock, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Softly, as though anything louder than a whisper would cause the offer to shatter like his childhood dreams once had. “Oh, oh, could you really?”

As warmly as the fire between them, Marinette smiled, “of course! I'd have to ask Félix first of course. But he fell in love with Bridgette and she was a Witcher and he came up with a spell to disguise her whenever they weren't doing contracts or courtly politics. So I don't see why he wouldn't show me how to do it!”

Shakily, he wiped his eyes and smiled back. “Fuck, I'd love that!”

“Okay then! I'll contact Félix on the xenovox tomorrow.” As she spoke, a yawn slipped past her lips. “I think I'm gonna head to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning!”

“Good night, Marinette. I'm gonna stretch my legs real quick first.” He answered, hefting himself up and stretching his arms. “Sleep well, though.”

“Be careful!” Marinette yawned again and packed away her needlework for the night. She then wriggled into her bedroll. “And I'll try, g'night!”

“Night,” he whispered once more.

Quietly, so as to not disturb her, Jason slipped away from camp. Following the direction of the fret, he made his way down the safest cliff path he could find in the dark until his boots hit the sand. Step by step, he walked across the beach until the sea spray spattered against his clothes. He's close enough that the waves gently lapped at the toes of his boots.

Clutching one hand to his chest, just over where his heart was, Jason sighed and gazed longingly at the mist-shrouded sea.

“I never thought I'd get to continue my dreams after becoming a Witcher.” He whispered to the wind. “And now I can, thanks to her.”

He sighs again, heart warmed. And silently in the quietude of the beach at night, he cries alone. For his heart is too full with the kindness of another to contain the feelings any longer.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC xMLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 4 #Jasonette July Day 19 #Jasonette July Mistakes #Long for Who You Could Have Been #LfWYCHB #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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supersonic-womanofyou · 4 years

Photo

My first attempt at an interview fic! Read this on Ao3, or under the cut.

Spotlight on Eric Bittle

Interview by Elizabeth Chu

Photographs by Jack Zimmermann

The internet personality, author, and baker talks about his childhood, his relationship with Providence Falconers captain Jack Zimmermann, being a LGBTQ role model, why he struggled with his overnight success, and his upcoming cookbook.

I meet Eric Bittle in person for the first time on a Saturday afternoon, in a trendy coffee shop in downtown Providence. Even though I’ve heard of it in passing, I’ve never been inside. Eric obviously has, since when I approach the table where he’s chosen to sit, Eric is already chatting familiarly with one of the waitresses.

But after a couple minutes talking to Eric, I mentally revisit that assumption. Eric Bittle has a way of putting people at ease, of making even the most distant strangers feel like long-lost friends-- through his warm personality, but also through his seemingly-never ending supply of homemade baked goods. By the time I sit down across from him, I’m already in possession of a whole pie and two jars of jam.

Most of the celebrities I’ve met have on screen personalities that are vastly different in person, but the Eric Bittle I meet that Saturday could have been pulled directly out of his Netflix series or one of the episodes from his vastly popular vlog. He’s perennially bright and cheery, with a Southern drawl that’s been blunted by years in New England, but is still very present. When I mention it, Eric laughs. “I used to hate my accent, but I think it’s become as part of my brand as pies are. I’d probably lose all of my followers if I started talking like a Yankee,” he jokes.

The source of Bittle’s accent is his hometown-- Madison, Georgia, a town of barely four thousand people. When I ask what drove him to move up north, he gestures to himself as a whole. “Not too many opportunities for a baking, skating, Beyonce-loving gay boy in Morgan County.” He turns more serious, though, when he continues: “I was bullied a lot as a child. When I think back to my childhood, to living in Georgia-- for people who looked or acted different, it could be suffocating. I remember feeling like my future was just so starkly outlined for me-- going to a state school, settling down with a nice girl, spending the rest of my life just pretending. It sounds like overdramatic teenage angst now, I know, but I always knew if I wanted to live honestly, I needed to get out.”

And so Eric applied-- and was accepted to--Samwell University in Massachusetts, which touts itself as one of the most LGBTQ friendly schools in America, under the motto “one in four, maybe more.” According to Eric, it’s where he began to come to terms with himself and his identity, where he finally said the words “I’m gay” out loud, where he continued to bake and vlog and began to think seriously about a career in both, and where, perhaps most famously, he met his now-husband, Providence Falconers captain Jack Zimmermann.

“We both played on the hockey team, but we weren’t exactly friends at first,” Bittle says about his relationship with Zimmermann.

So, of course, I have to ask him-- what is it like, being a baker married to a hockey player? Eric and his husband seem like almost comical counterpoints in every aspect of their careers and personalities. Eric makes his living through baking and cooking, Jack plays in the notoriously-macho NHL. Eric has built a brand and a food empire off of cheeriness and Southern hospitality, Jack has a reputation of being a “hockey robot,” with his cold, generally disagreeable demeanor during interviews.

“Well, with it all laid out like that, it really does sound like we’re night and day,” Eric laughs. “But honestly? We just work. We both love skating-- that’s what we bonded over in college, actually. We also both technically majored in history, even though we have very different specialities and did so for pretty different reasons. But even our differences are compatible. Like, I love talking, he doesn’t, so we’re never talking over each other or silent. Also, pro hockey players have to eat an insane number of calories, so Jack’s always there to eat my cooking, and that’s really all I can ask for.”

Eric and Jack, who played on a line together briefly at Samwell, took the sports world by storm seven years ago when they kissed on the ice after the Falconers won the Stanley Cup, making Jack the first openly LGBTQ player in the NHL. The pair broke yet another barrier for LGBTQ people in hockey soon after, when Eric became the first openly gay NCAA Division I hockey captain.

When I ask Eric if he ever thought about following in his partner’s footsteps and pursuing a career in professional hockey, he just laughs. “Oh, definitely not. I love being on the ice, but I don’t think I would have made it very far in the NHL or AHL.”

His fame may have started out in the (relatively niche) world of professional hockey, but since graduating from Samwell, Eric has found incredible success beyond the legacy of that historic kiss. His first book, published five years ago, spent several weeks on the New York Times Food and Diet bestseller list, and was applauded as a fresh, vibrant take on Southern cuisine and desserts. Check, Please reads as seventy percent cookbook, thirty percent memoir, with every page infused with Bittle’s indomitable, ubiquitous personality. His vlog, which he started in high school and has updated continuously ever since, has millions of subscribers, who tune in every week to hear Bittle talk about everything from pies and cookies to relationships and family. Finally, and perhaps most famously, Bittle hosted his own Netflix series last year, applauded as a combination of Marie Kondo and Queer Eye, in which he taught baking with his usual brand of positivity and universal appeal, interspersed with feel-good moments and life lessons.

It strikes me that while Bittle’s career may have been jump-started by his relationship with Jack Zimmermann, he’s certainly managed to make a name for himself in the years since. To the hockey world, he may still be an afterthought to Jack Zimmermann, but to the baking world (and a good portion of Netflix’s viewership), the name Jack Zimmermann is an afterthought to that of Eric Bittle.

“Jack definitely gets a kick out of it when we’re in public together and I get recognized, and he doesn’t,” Eric says. “It’s kind of crazy, actually-- I definitely couldn’t have imagined all this ten years ago, back in college or in high school.”

And what did Eric imagine himself doing? “To be honest, I don’t think I had any idea. When I decided to go to Samwell, I didn’t even have a major in mind or anything. I just wanted to get out of Georgia. And at Samwell-- I mean, I majored in American History, of all things. Talk about a useless degree! I literally just chose the major that let me take the most baking or baking-adjacent classes.” He pauses, and laughs. “It drives Jack crazy, actually-- I never have a plan for anything, really, big or small. I’m the kind of person who just crosses my fingers and hope it all shakes out for the best.”

His husband’s opinion aside, this tactic seems to have worked out pretty well for Eric. His next, eagerly anticipated cookbook, which follows much in the vein of his Netflix show, is due to come out in two months this August. “It’s going to be focused on easy, cheap cooking and baking that’s still healthy and fulfilling. I think there’s a mindset that to make tasty, healthy food you need to have expensive ingredients and tools, or a lot of time on your hands, or have a lot of experience. But like-- I made food for an entire hockey team in a frat house on a college student’s allowance for four years, so I know something about cooking healthy on a budget,” he jokes. “I really just want to make good, healthy food accessible for everyone.”

Well, he’s managed to do that, and more. Eric Bittle’s career so far has certainly been a whirlwind. He’s gone from publishing his first cookbook to hosting his own show in what’s only been a matter of years.

“I do have to pinch myself sometimes, “ Eric says about his dizzyingly quick ascent to fame. “Like, Carrie Underwood tagged me in a tweet about hockey husbands the other day. Carrie Underwood!” The disbelief is clear in his voice. “I mean, Jack’s always been the bigger fan of country music, but the Georgia boy in me had to lie down for a moment when I saw the notification. So I think-- I still can’t really believe all of it, you know? It feels like yesterday I was still about to graduate college, with barely any plan and procrastinating on my thesis. And I guess sometimes-- sometimes I do feel a bit guilty, you know? Like-- there’s so many people fighting for this, fighting for what I’ve got-- getting books published, getting a show, everything else. I definitely had a leg up in name recognition because of Jack and hockey, and even when Jack and weren’t married yet, I never had to worry about having a roof over my head if the vlog wasn’t bringing in enough money or the cookbook wasn’t selling well enough.” He pauses, pensive, and it’s not the first time in this conversation that I mentally reassess my first assumptions about Eric Bittle. Behind the nationally famous smile and welcoming accent is a thoughtful young man still grappling with becoming a public figure and a role model, with a sprinkling of imposter syndrome, who doesn’t understand exactly what millions of people across the country see in him.

But perhaps that as well is an unfair assessment. It’s clear that Eric has a refreshing genuiness that few public figures possess, and that this is part of what has managed to speak to so many people from all backgrounds. That on some level, his modesty about his own fame is part of what constitutes his appeal.

When I mention this, Eric flushes a bright shade of pink. “Oh, aren’t you a flatterer. Well, I suppose so.”

So after this cookbook, what’s next? Is fatherhood on the horizon?

“I did mention that I never have a plan, didn’t I?” he quips. But he does confide that he and Jack have been talking about having a family. “We’ve always wanted kids, but there’s always been something going on. Jack’s job and being on roadies all the time, me trying to get my career started. We don’t want our kids to be raised by babysitters and nannies, you know? We want to be there for them, so while it’s definitely something we’re considering, we’re trying to balance timing. But it has been a couple years, so.” He blushes. “We’re revisiting the idea.”

“But other than that-- I have been approached about the possibility of some other projects and shows in the future, but I probably can’t talk about those,” he says. “And though it’s always been a dream of mine to own a bakery, that would be a pretty huge commitment. So I guess I’m just trying to say that I’m not really sure exactly what comes next.” Nevertheless, he grins, as if to say, and isn’t that exciting ?

Fatherhood or his own bakery-- I’m sure that no matter what comes next for Eric Bittle, he’ll forge ahead with his characteristic positivity and Southern grace, with plenty of baked goods along the way. *

#omgcp #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #interview #multimedia fic #art #magazine #fic #omgcp fic #zimbits #pov outsider #omgcheckplease

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kae-karo · 3 years

Text

fic writer interview!

i saw @prince-liest do this and thus i will take ur 'tagging anyone who wants to do this' seriously lmaoooo (also hi btw hope ur well!!! 💜💜)

How many works do you have on AO3?

ahaha,,,,,159 lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

fdsjkkjlsfdklj as of today, 2,089,769

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

only three fsdjkldslfkj the phandom (dan&phil), bnha, and genshin!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

chosen (x) - zhongchi (genshin)

to love (and be loved in return) (x) - kaeluc (genshin)

little bird (x) - dabihawks (bnha)

feet don't touch the ground (x) - xiaoven (genshin)

i knew you were fire (x) - dabihawks (bnha)

honestly none of that surprises me except that little bird is still up there, although i think i owe that to sif (@the-final-sif) for sharing it around the time it got posted since it was partly inspired by her raptor stress grip post!!

the rest are all chaptered fics, which is mostly what i expected to be in the top 5 lmao

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

yes!!! always!!!! no matter what u comment, i will respond!!! and if i don't, it's probably cause ao3 didn't notify me properly or i didn't see it in my inbox or something

as for why, it's mostly to do with like...i know how hard it can be for some people to comment, even just a bunch of heart emojis or a 'i loved this!' or something short and simple? and it means a lot to me that ppl are going out of their way to say something nice, no matter how small, and it's really really important to me to acknowledge that

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

hmm,,,,,this is a hard one, cause for a very long time, my policy was that my fic would always have a happy ending? and for a long time, that was true!! but the dabihawks interaction (during the raid) broke me, and from an emotional standpoint, i think freeing icarus (x) is probably the one that has the angstiest ending of the two or so that i wrote in that time?

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

u know i really haven't written any crossovers? it's normally not my thing cause my brain typically focuses on a single thing and doesn't really have the capacity to think about more than that, so i end up writing just au-style or fusion-style (shoutout to that one bnha but it was scooby doo fic i wrote - x)

i don't think i'd be opposed to writing a crossover but i'd have to be SUPER inspired by the idea and both fandoms lmao

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aha yes, i have. the only straight up hate i've received was on a kaeluc fic (surprisingly not because it was kaeluc, but bc i was 'mistreating' kaeya in the fic) - to be entirely fair, the commenter pointed out something that i hadn't realized myself, and it led to a second piece of the story that helped me tie up some loose ends, but...let's just say they weren't very kind about their feelings lmao

other than that, i had someone very upset because i didn't tag which character was bottoming in a fic (valid if that bugs u!) and they read through most of it before getting to the smut (and said that they enjoyed everything up to that point) then said they were 'disgusted' by it. i have opinions on that and a few other comments they made, but i will keep them to myself lmao

and beyond that, just a few ppl on my xiaoven fic saying that they were unhappy about the background kaeluc (which is tagged lmao) - really no hate whatsoever til genshin, honestly, which is...very hmmmm :) lmao

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yep!!! mostly vanilla or vanilla-adjacent lmao i'm not super into heavy kink, although i know if epi reads this she's gonna call me out for being a monsterfucker bc of my dragon!zhongli smut :) lmaoooo but really i tend to write pretty vanilla smut! i also prefer to avoid any noncon/dubcon or hate sex or anything particularly angsty, just not my jam to write!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

hmm i don't think so? although i don't heavily monitor ao3 (or wattpad/ffn), so i can't really say that for sure lmao

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!! i've had a few fics translated to russian (little bird is one of them!) which is very sweet and i hope that anyone who prefers to read in russian has been enjoying those fics!!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

alksdfjklsdf only once, and it's deadass how me and rose got together. we decided to co-write a podcast au fic for the phandom (x) and ended up flirting via google docs asldkfjkldsfj

What’s your all time favourite ship?

what a horrible question, making me choose between my children like this!!!! sdlfkjdskf tbh i'm not sure i have a real answer bc it changes as i go? and 'favorite' is so vague,,,,,favorite to read? to write about? to think about? asdklfjkjsdfk i really don't know if i have an answer, but i'll maybe say kaeluc for now lmao

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

well first and foremost, with only 2 exceptions, i never post a fic unless it's done. i tend to follow wherever my passion leads my brain, so i'm notorious for jumping around between stories and taking breaks from long fic and returning later on to finish them, and i know that i would not do well under the pressure of posting something unfinished and trying to finish it in a timely manner

that said, many wips sit in my google doc folder, but one is Well Known as the one that has followed me through both the phandom and bnha (rose keeps asking who i'm gonna switch the chars to in genshin, but i think it suits bakudeku too well to do that) - only the lonely survive. it sits at like 36k in my wip folder, and i adore the story dearly and i want very much to finish it, but it never makes it quite to the forefront of my motivation, and so it rarely if ever gets worked on...i hate the idea of 'never' finishing it, but it's unfortunately quite likely that i won't 😭😭😭

What are your writing strengths?

emotion!!! and immersion!!! it's my goal in a fic to make it as immersive as possible and saturated with emotion to help convey that feeling of being in the place of the pov character, and i think i do it pretty well. also just bc i feel a little obligated to say it - another strength is actually sitting down and putting words down. i know that's a struggle for a lot of writers and i often get,,,,lovingly bullied? i guess? lmao for being able to bash out a few k in a day most days

What are your writing weaknesses?

this isn't so much a weakness i guess but i am basically incapable of treating crack fic as crack. if i have a cracky idea, it will, without a doubt, end up turning into a Perfectly Serious fic somehow (notable 'crack treated so seriously that it's no longer crack' fics include: todoroki doing the freeze-the-ocean thing from frozen 2, 'shmigaraki', todo and denki get together bc of vine references, the league sells feet pics, shiggy and natsu own a nightclub/bakery, scooby doo but make it bnha, and dabi getting his ears pierced at claire's)

but in all seriousness, i think my main weakness is that i often get comfortable? and i'm not one to typically push myself forcefully out of my comfort zone when it comes to stories that i come up with on my own, which often means that ideas inspired by discussions with others are what prompt me to branch out and try new things?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think, like anything, it has its place? there are certainly stories where it makes sense to do that and even adds depth to a story, although i personally am not exceptionally comfortable enough with other languages (except maybe asl) to do that in fic myself without the assistance of someone very comfortable with that language lmao

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

the phandom! not really my jam to write rpf anymore but it definitely got me started and i'm really grateful for my time writing there, as everyone was super supportive and kind, and it was really a perfect place for a beginner to get comfortable and practice

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

again, forcing me to choose between my children...i really don't know that i can pick one fic bc they all exist in such wildly different spaces? i poured my worldbuilding soul into the king of disaster series (mainly dabihawks - x), exile (dan and phil - x) was my first massively long fic, our hearts are heavy burdens we shouldn't have to bear alone (chayea - x) is probably my favorite character/character dynamic study, i'm exceptionally proud of the smut in chosen (zhongchi - x), the list goes on and on and on lmao like. i could probably list half my fics as favorites in some regard dsflkjdfsjkl

anyway, tyty bellamy for putting this on my dash so i could do it as well!!

tagging: literally anyone who wants to do this, i have so many writer friends slkdjfjklsdf but please please tag me if u do it so i can read urs!!! 💜💜💜

#writing

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snackhobi · 3 years

Note

hi joy!! what are some of your favorite yoongi fics? 👀

hi anon!! wow okay this is a HARD question,, you know I love our boy yoongi but the second I read this I was like “wait how many yoongi fics have I actually read” dsfkjlsdjkfsdf

here are some that immediately spring to mind but by this is by no means a comprehensive list!! I’m going to talk more about why I personally like them as opposed to what the stories are actually about, because you’re probably better off clicking the links and reading the summaries for that (I’m terrible at summaries, both for my own fics and ones written by other people 🤦‍♀️)

boseong breakfast by @honeymoonjin - sora is actually the first writer I actually read memberxreader fics for and I guess you could say she’s the main reason I started writing at all, because she inspired me so much! I love love love this fic; you’ve got the holy trinity (fluff, angst, and smut) and it’s such a beautiful fic. it’ll make your heart ache in all the best of ways, I promise!

magic of the night by @gukyi - okay I know I’m like, mainly a fluff blog BUT I love horror and angst and this is such a great, punchy fic, with magic in the modern world which is ENTIRELY my jam.

not your fairytale by @yeojaa - I fuckin love this fic. brother’s best friend yoongi? mutual pining? attending cake tastings with you after you’ve called off your wedding with your piece-of-shit ex? PLEASE,,,

greedy by @xjoonchildx - if you’ve been around for a little while you’ve probably already seen me reblog chapters of this but I really cannot begin to describe how much I love this fic. it’s ongoing (I can’t wait for the next part!!) and the way ana weaves suspense in this story is SO good, always dropping more plot and expanding the story but still leaving you wanting to know more about this yoongi.

breakfast in bed by @joonbird - yoongi works in ikea which is already more than enough of a reason to read this. but seriously, this is one of the funniest fics I’ve ever read, it’s so beautifully written, and the smut- lord. the smut. but it’s so CUTE and fluffy, too.

okay there’s definitely more but that’s all that’s jumping to mind right now 🤧 I’ve really gotta sort out my fic rec blog (which I started a lil while ago but I’ve barely used, @snackhobireads if you were wondering 😳👀). if anyone has any more yoongi fic recs/recs in general please send them my way!! I’d love to read them!! I’ll read literally anything, no holds barred!!

#my descriptions really aren't doing any of the fics justice #but yes there's a mix of genres there so hopefully you'll like something!#ask #anon #fic rec

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nightfallrevel · 4 years

Text

Strawberry and Cream

A/N: This piece was written for the BnHarem discord server collaboration. The theme was Pen Pal and it was seriously fun to write! It’s my longest piece, yet! Don’t come at me about the title, lol, it’s like that for a reason and you’ll see why.

To see the other fics in the collaboration, you can find them here!

While this collaboration was NSFW, the way that I have written it will allow for my readers who don’t want to read NSFW to still enjoy it without reading the smut. It’s completely SFW up until the fic reads “One year later”. This fic is complete before this line and the smut is just an added bonus for those who want to read it. So, please, enjoy!

Warnings: smut at the very end, face riding, blow job, penetrative sex

Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Words: 7,377

During their third year at U.A., the school thought it would be a good idea to come up with a program to help keep their students connected as they became more individually involved in their work studies. The idea was for future pros to build stronger bonds with their peers anonymously to give them a strong stepping stone to dealing more easily with civilians.

There was, of course, nothing in place that said students couldn’t meet with their anonymous contacts, but the administrators highly recommended that the students wait at least a month before revealing their identities. The program was assigning interested parties a “pen pal”, and it seemed that it was a fairly popular concept, especially within Class 1-A.

The first day of the program, Mr. Aizawa showed up to the class with a sizable box under his arm. Setting it on his desk at the front of the class, he addressed all of you as he held a piece of paper with instructions. “For those of you participating in the ‘Pen Pal Program’, you will each be given a cell phone with one phone number pre-added to the contacts. That phone number will be your anonymous pen pal. This is completely randomized as there was no record taken of which phones were given which numbers. Also, there were no names assigned to any of the phones as you will be choosing your own from the box given to your homeroom teacher.” Mr. Aizawa patted the box and stared down each and every one of his students. “You all signed up to participate, so come up one at a time, alphabetically, to get your phone.”

You bounced in your seat as your classmates got excited around you and started to claim their own phones. You wondered who would end up being your pen pal and if you would have anything in common with them. Would they be in the hero class, too? Maybe someone from the support classes? The entire class was buzzing as everyone sat with their newly acquired phones.

Before anyone could get too excited, Mr. Aizawa addressed everyone once more. “Oh, yeah, the school administrators would like to remind everyone that this is supposed to be an anonymous program. Obviously, they can’t stop you from revealing yourselves, but they highly advise that you try to remain as such for at least the first thirty days. I’ll give you guys some time with the phones, otherwise you’ll never concentrate on your studies.” In the next moment, Mr. Aizawa was zipping himself up in his sleeping bag.

Your heart pounded as you stared down at the phone you’d picked up and held down the power button. The screen lit up as it booted up. Luckily it was a smart phone, though it was obviously a lower grade version. Not that you were exactly complaining as you watched the phone connect automatically to the school’s wi-fi.

A bout of nerves gripped you as you stared at the soft blue screen, wondering if you should be the first to message or if you should wait for the other person to message you. Before you could chicken out completely, you opened up a new text and sent a quick-

“Hi!!”

At the same time your message was sent, you received an incoming message.

“Hello.”

You inhaled sharply with excitement, a wide grin stretching across your face, and you quickly started to type your next text.

“I really want to introduce myself, but we’re supposed to stay anonymous. Does that bother you? Personally, I find it pretty exciting! I guess I’ll just start with something simple? I’m female, in the hero course, and… I would tell you which year I’m in, but that might be too much and make it easier to guess who I am!

If you’d like, you can call me ‘Strawberry’? I really love them and I think it would be a cute nickname. 😊"

You held your breath, almost immediately seeing three waving dots that indicated they were texting back. By the time that the reply popped up, you were smiling like a complete idiot.

“Male. Also in the hero course.

‘Strawberry?’ I like it. I agree, it’s cute. I guess... you can call me ‘Cream’, then?”

Your mouth fell open at the nickname that your male pen pal had suggested, stunned for a moment. Was he serious? That was what he wanted to go with?

“Uh, don’t you think that maybe you should go with something a bit more… appropriate? For your nickname? I mean, Cream is just… well, you know…”

The reply that came back nearly had you doubling over with laughter. This guy was serious!

“I’m not sure what you mean. I just thought Cream would be good because we were paired together and strawberries and cream is my favorite flavor for sweets. If you don’t like it, I suppose I could change it...”

Your classmates looked up as you laughed, suddenly curious about who your pen pal could be that they were so funny. You waved them all off, not wanting to risk finding out who it was. You stared down at the text, a warmth settling in your chest. Whoever this guy was, he was innocently cute and it made you feel glad. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about him making dirty jokes every thirty seconds- not that you didn’t take almost everything into the gutter with you. For this program, however, you felt a desire to keep your interaction friendly and light. Your fingers moved quick and light over the phone keyboard as you sent him your reply.

“No! I like ‘Cream’! When you put it that way, it’s absolutely perfect~”

The rest of the day was spent messaging each other and sharing little bits about yourselves with the other whenever you had a chance. You both strayed away from anything too specific. You talked about your families; how many siblings you each had, if you still had both parents, and other small details about life at home.

Cream was actually a rather interesting person, and you soon picked up on his texting habits. Sometimes his replies ranged from one to three words, or sometimes they were quite lengthy, and there was no in between. Strangely, it didn’t even bother you. You could only hope that the two of you wouldn’t run out of things to talk about and fall silent to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month passed and you definitely had plenty to talk about. You often spoke on your respective days and disagreements with friends. Whenever you felt something particularly strongly, you shared it with him. He was always receptive.

If you were happy, he was glad for you. If you were sad, he’d let you pour your heart out and offer words of consolation. If you were mad, he’d let you vent until you calmed down and offer his support or give you another way to look at what had upset you.

Cream was not as forthcoming with his emotions as you were. He tried, you could tell that much, but it wasn’t often that he shared his feelings. When he did, however, he was always quite passionate about it and let you know exactly where he stood. You weren’t sure if he just wasn’t good at expressing himself or if he mostly closed himself off. You hoped that it was the former.

After having texted and sharing so much with each other for so long, the information you shared with him became more and more personal. You were sure you could tell him anything. One evening, however, you found yourself in an argument with him and couldn’t believe how unreasonable he was being.

Throwing the phone on your bed out of anger, you stormed from your room and headed for the kitchen. There was no sense in continuing the conversation when you were so upset. You didn’t want to say anything you’d regret, after all. Despite being currently angry with Cream, you did still enjoy your conversations with him.

Once you were in the kitchen, you beelined for the fridge and brought out a single sized carton of strawberry milk before slamming the door shut. Opening up the attached straw, you jammed it into the hole and started drinking.

“Is something upsetting you, Y/L/N?” The voice of one of your classmates had you almost shrieking, but you inhaled your milk instead and fell into a coughing fit as you choked on the sweet liquid. Hands were immediately on you, taking your milk away before lifting your hands over your head.

As you sucked in a harsh breath, your watery eyes fell on the face of none other than Todoroki Shouto. You tried to give him a sheepish grin before you went into another fit of coughing, your lungs trying to expel the liquid they had breathed in. Todoroki gave you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Just keep your hands over your head until you stop coughing.” The most you could do was flush hotly and nod.

A couple of tears streaked down your face as you tried not to stare at the guy currently grasping your wrists and holding your hands over your head. Just like the other girls in your class, you found Todoroki to be extremely attractive. For you, though, it wasn’t just his looks. You admired his drive and focus, his kindness towards everyone, and his openness in trying to look at things from others’ point of view.

It was a long moment before you realized that you weren’t coughing anymore, but Todoroki was still holding your wrists. You cleared your throat a little, your face feeling even warmer as he peeked up at him. He was watching you closely, though it was probably just to make sure you were okay. “Um, Todoroki, you can let go, now. I’m okay. Thank you.” His eyes widened slightly and he released you, his fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks before stepping away.

“My apologies. I wanted to be sure.” He offered you a small smile before moving past you to the fridge. “You seemed upset before. Are you okay?” It wasn’t strange that he would ask you about it. Being in the same class, the two of you were often paired together and worked really well together as a team. You often sat with him, Deku, Iida, and Uraraka during lunch, too. You definitely considered him a friend.

Returning his smile, you picked your milk back up and gave an experimental sip. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sort of.” Your smile turned rueful as he raised a brow at you while pulling out leftover soba noodles. “Pen pal trouble, I guess. We… got into an argument.” You scrunched up your nose as you took a seat at the kitchen island. “Pen pal? Maybe ‘text’ pal would fit him better?” You giggled a little. Todoroki sat next to you with his noodles, popping off the top of the container. He nodded slowly as he listened.

“So, it’s boy problems, then?” Your face flushed brightly. While your pen pal was certainly male, you’d hardly classify it as ‘boy problems’. It wasn’t as though you were dating him or had a crush on him. You… didn’t have a crush on him, did you? You tried not to think about having a crush on someone you’d never even met in person.

“T-Todoroki, it’s not like that! ‘Boy problems’ don’t apply to this situation.” You knew about Todoroki’s misunderstanding of basic social concepts from time to time, and always did your best to explain things when you could. He really was too adorable, sometimes. “I’ll explain it later, but that’s not what’s going on here.”

He slurped up some of his noodles as he stared at you, chewing slowly before swallowing. You couldn’t help but notice the way his neck moved as he did, following the line of his shoulder to his strong biceps. A shiver ran up your spine as you imagined those arms surrounding you. “Anything I can help with, then?”

You snapped out of your daze, flushing brightly at being caught lost in thought. A bright smile flashed across your face as you shook your head. “Nah. I’ll work it out with him. I just needed a minute to cool my head before I made an idiot of myself.” You glanced away. “I can have a tendency to say things that I don’t mean when I’m angry.” He smiled at your words, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s good that you know that about yourself. I’m sure that’s helped in a lot of situations.” Your eyes met his and you felt your heart leap.

“Yeah, it really has.” You took another sip from your milk before speaking, again. “You signed up for the program, too, right? How have you been getting along with your partner?” His eyes darkened slightly at your question for a slight moment before going back to neutral.

You watched him as his hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out the school-issued phone for the program. “Yes, I did. My partner is very nice. She’s interesting. I think… I may have said something to her that I shouldn’t have, or maybe in the wrong way. I’m not really sure, though.” His brow furrowed and you felt your heart sink just a little. His ‘text’ pal was a girl, then.

Shaking your head free of the thought, you offered Todoroki a sympathetic smile and a pat on the arm. “If you’d like, maybe I could help you fix it? What did you say?” The heterochromatic boy fixed his gaze on you and shook his head politely.

“No, I think I might take a page from your book and just talk it out with her.” Picking up the phone, he slipped it back into his pocket and started cleaning up from his snack. You gave a shrug and drank the last of your milk.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” You tossed the milk carton in the recycling. “See ya later, Todoroki!” He smiled and gave you a wave as you left the kitchen and headed back to your room. You felt better now that you’d spoken to Todoroki and were ready to try mending things with Cream.

When you picked up the phone, however, there was already an apology and you quickly responded to work things out. By the end of the night, the two of you had completely made amends and were speaking normally again as though the argument had never happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several more weeks passed and you found yourself looking forward to your evening chats with Cream. Your conversations had lessened as your studies had increased, the only time you could find to chat were now at night just before bed. You wished you had more time in your day, but hero work was nearly all-consuming.

Cream had become an important part of your life, though. You felt closer to him than even your friends in class. You were even sure that you were falling in love with him. It was an odd sensation to feel such a close attachment to someone you’d never met face to face. However, you couldn’t deny the beating of your heart or the flutter in your stomach each time you received a text from him.

Even as you felt yourself developing a strong bond with Cream, you also noticed how much closer you were getting with Todoroki. You found yourself confused and unsure of what to do. Two boys and you weren’t sure where to turn more of your attention.

Todoroki went on frequent morning runs and usually you went with him. He had invited you to go with him one morning at the beginning of the school term and it had turned into a regular thing. As you prepared yourself to join him one morning, you found yourself wondering about how he was doing with his own text pal.

You struck up the conversation as the two of you jogged at an even pace. “Todoroki, did you ever work things out with your text pal? I never did ask you.” He glanced over at you briefly and gave a shrug.

“Yes, we talked it out. Things have been fine since then. What about you? You seemed pretty upset back then about yours.” You copied his shrug, but you weren’t able to stop the smile that spread across your lips.

“Yeah, we were able to recover. I think that we’re actually doing better, now.” You were quiet for a moment, contemplating. You didn’t want to push Todoroki, just in case, but you wanted to gauge his thoughts and, possibly his feelings, towards you.

Todoroki was patient and waited quietly while you decided on your next words. You were distracted a moment, though, when he took a slight lead on you and you were able to glance over every inch of his muscled arms and legs. Needless to say, your imagination took off in a million wild directions. The light sheen of sweat on his skin made you want to lick it off-

“Y/L/N?”

Todoroki’s voice brought you back to reality and you shook your head, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Sorry. I was just thinking.” You blushed as you covered up your true thoughts with your more innocent ones. “I just was wondering what you thought?” He gave you a reassuring smile, though his focus remained on where he was going. “Do you think… it’s possible to fall in love with someone you’ve never met?” Your voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, but Todoroki had definitely heard you as his head snapped around to face you, his eyes widening.

Your eyes mimicked his as you started to panic. Had you said something wrong? Todoroki stopped running and you skidded to a halt a few steps ahead of him and turned back. His brows had furrowed in contemplation and his eyes had darkened somewhat. You could tell that your question had more of an impact than what you’d intended.

As you approached him, his eyes lifted to yours and seemed to be searching. You would have given every possession you had to know what he was looking for. “I’m surprised you asked me something like that. I can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought. Maybe Mina or Tsu would be able to provide better advice?” Your gaze softened and your body eased as you understood. “Maybe it is, though.” Your blood ran cold.

What did he mean by that? Was he talking about his own text pal? Had he fallen in love with her and just not realized it? And you had held his hand and led him straight to the conclusion. You did your best to smile. “Maybe.” You halfheartedly agreed before turning from him to continue the run. You soon heard his steps following behind you. The rest of the run was quiet between you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finals were approaching and everyone was busier than ever. You found that you had started to tiptoe around Todoroki while your relationship with Cream had taken off. The two of you had decided that it was finally time to meet and reveal yourselves to each other. The date was set for the day after final exams to avoid being too much of a distraction for each other.

You were constantly smiling and humming to yourself and your friends noticed. After they’d spent countless nights badgering you, you finally confessed that you’d be meeting your text pal. They barraged you with questions, wanting to know who he was. You still didn’t know, though, as you had both decided to keep the anonymity until the actual meeting.

The day after finals couldn’t arrive any faster and you were bouncing around your room as Mina helped you pick out the perfect outfit. In the commons, the other girls fawned over how great you looked and wished you luck on meeting your text pal. You barely caught sight of Todoroki staring at you from the couch. Was he blushing? If he was, it was only a little bit.

Feeling that you had ruined your chances with Todoroki, you didn’t dwell on it and headed out of the commons. The location the two of you had selected was a small ice cream shop just on the edge of the city near campus. It was a pretty popular spot and it was pretty busy. Luckily, you were able to place your order of strawberry ice cream and find a table close to the street on the outdoor patio.

Fishing out our phone, you sent Cream a quick text that you were at the shop and seated outside. You waited for a reply, but one didn’t come in right away. Not at all worried, you set the phone on the table and started eating your ice cream. Your nerves were twisting your insides, equally nervous and excited.

It wasn’t until you were halfway through your ice cream that you finally received a text. It was an apology. He wasn’t coming. Your heart sank as you read his excuse. Apparently, his agency that he was interning with had called him in for an emergency. Hope fluttered in your chest, however, as he offered to meet you the following day, instead.

You almost laughed as he asked if they could meet at the same place. Cream was disappointed that he had missed out on the ice cream. With a grin, you took a picture of your mostly eaten treat and sent it to him.

“Definitely could have used some help eating it!”

His reply was almost immediate.

“Are you sure? Looks like you’re making enough progress on your own. :P”

A grin lifted your lips at his cheeky comment.

“Yes, I’m sure! See you tomorrow, then? I’ll make sure to grab two spoons.”

“Yes. Tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day arrived and you again headed to the ice cream shop. You managed to dodge your friends to avoid any prying questions. You didn’t want to admit that the previous day hadn’t worked out. Even if he had a perfectly good excuse.

However, as you waited, you gradually got a sinking feeling. Sure enough, a text came in and disappointment gripped you as he announced that he would not make it, once again.

“My father, this time. I’m sorry. I told you about him, so you know how he is. Usually, I ignore him, but this was unavoidable, unfortunately. Intern related. I’ve been scouted at several agencies and he wants to go over all of my options.”

It was true that Cream had painted his father in a less than pleasing light and you understood why Cream had to give his internship priority. It didn’t make you hurt any less, though.

“Okay. I understand. Tomorrow, then?”

It was a couple of minutes before there was a response.

“Actually, I won’t be free again for another two days after tomorrow. Instead of ice cream, why don’t I take you somewhere nice to make up for it? Maybe that one restaurant that you mentioned was your favorite?”

You blinked at the message, unsure of how to respond. You didn’t feel any better about being stood up, again, and the restaurant he was offering to take you to was a pretty pricey one. Sighing heavily, you messaged back.

“No. Ice cream is fine. I’ll meet you on that day, then.”

You didn’t wait for his response, this time, as you left the shop and headed back to the dorms. Your feet felt heavy and your heart was sporting a decent sized crack in it. Mina noticed how down you looked and tried to cheer you up, seeming to sense not to bring up the meeting with Cream. Along with a couple of the other girls, Mina took you up to her room where the group of you could watch movies and talk about nonsense and hero work.

The distractions were nice, keeping you from dwelling too much on Cream and how he had left you hanging a second time. You didn’t want to think about the doubt that was slowly growing in your heart or whether Cream really wanted to meet you or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki put his school-issued phone in his pocket with a deep frown. He really hated that he had to cancel on his text pal a second time. It ate him up inside to imagine what she must think of him. Strawberry was the best thing that could have happened to him.

After failing to secure a connection with you, Strawberry had been there to fill the void. She was so much more than someone just filling a void, though. It had taken you asking about the possibility of falling in love with someone without meeting them that brought it to his attention. He wasn’t sure, however, until recently.

It was possible. Very possible, in fact, and he was so sure that he had fallen in love with Strawberry. She was easy to talk to, kind, and never ran away from their arguments. She always faced any problems they had head on and was usually the first to offer solutions and never pointed fingers.

Todoroki really respected the way she never demanded an apology, either, giving him the time and space to do it on his own. Strawberry was often the first to apologize, though. Given his past, it usually took him more time to come to the conclusion that he may have been insensitive or said something that could have been easily misconstrued. She never held a grudge and was quick to forgive him every time.

The warmth he felt whenever he texted her was incomparable, and how was he repaying her? By standing her up on the most important part of their relationship and meeting face to face. He could only hope that she would forgive him for this, too.

The next few days seemed to drag by. Todoroki wanted nothing more than to meet you and he was feeling anxious. He practically ran towards the ice cream shop, only to realize that he’d missed his turn a few blocks too late. As he turned around to correct himself, there was a spray of glass beside him and something collided hard with his body, knocking him to the ground.

Recovering quickly, Todoroki realized that a villain had run into him after just robbing the jewelry store he was passing. As an upcoming hero, Todoroki couldn’t ignore the situation and immediately took matters into his own hands.

There were three robbers in total and Todoroki single-handedly apprehended them all, then called the police. As he waited for them to arrive, he remembered his date with Strawberry and pulled out his phone. Dismay filled the pit of his stomach when he saw that it had been smashed. He silently prayed that Strawberry would still be at the ice cream shop by the time he finished with the police.

The police made Todoroki come into the station to file an official report after questioning him. It took well over an hour to file the report and Todoroki bolted from the police station at a dead run towards where he hoped she was still waiting. It was three hours past the time he’d agreed to meet with her and he doubted that she would have waited so long after being stood up twice, but he couldn’t help keeping that small light of hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week had passed since you had been stood up a third time by Cream. This time without even a single text. You had sent several to him without even one reply the entire week. It was two days before graduation and you were supposed to return the phone within the next twenty-four hours.

You sat alone on the couch in the commons, hugging your knees to your chest as you stared at the silent phone on the coffee table. Had it all been a facade? Had Cream pretended to want to meet you the whole time? Tears welled in your eyes until they spilled over and you buried your face in your arms. You were thankful no one else was around to witness your embarrassing display.

“Y/L/N?”

Your head jerked up and you quickly swiped away your tears as your gaze was drawn to who had spoken your name. It was Todoroki and you offered him the best smile you could, which wasn’t very much. Alarm took over his features as he realized you were crying and he immediately joined you on the couch. “What’s wrong? Should I get some tissues?” Your smile warmed at his concern and you sniffled as you shook your head.

“No, you don’t have to do that.” Reaching forward, you picked up the phone from the coffee table. “It’s just that I never got to meet my text pal and… I think he only agreed to meet me, but never wanted to. He kept coming up with excuses, and now he won’t even message me at all. It’s been a week and the phone has to be returned tomorrow.” Your voice cracked at the end and a few stray tears escaped the corner of your eyes.

Todoroki frowned, not really sure what to say. His heart was aching over his predicament with his own text pal. He’d tried to get a replacement phone, but since the program was entirely random, the administrators had no way of knowing which number he’d been assigned. He’d been at a total loss. He couldn’t ignore your tears, though.

His hands found your face and he gently wiped away your tears. You were his friend, even if you had drifted apart lately. Your wide eyes met his gaze and he gave you a gentle smile. “I wish there was something I could do to help, but we both know I’m not great at social interactions.” You blinked at him, your eyebrows furrowing.

You sniffled and wiped your nose with your sleeve. “Todoroki, what are you talking about? You’ve really grown over this past year. I think you’re really great in social situations, now.” You smiled back at him, much warmer than before. Lifting your hand, you offered him the school phone. “Maybe you could look at the messages and tell me what you think? Did he ever want to meet me, at all?” Todoroki’s eyes grew wide as you unlocked the phone and pressed it into his hand.

You had placed your trust in him and he couldn’t turn you down. Not when you smiled at him like that. Even though he knew that you weren’t being completely honest about his advancements in social settings, he couldn’t refuse you. Despite himself, he looked down at the phone and opened up the messages. He frowned as he saw several messages that you’d sent that had no reply and immediately scrolled up to older texts.

Todoroki’s hands shook as he immediately recognized the messages. He took his time in reading every single message that you’d sent since his phone had broken. They ranged from angry to hurt and back to angry, again. You had turned your face from him as he looked through the texts and he stared at you for a very long time before he could speak.

You were Strawberry and you’d been right in front of him the entire time. How had he not seen it? He should have noticed right away considering you’d held his attention for far longer than the pen pal program. If he could have asked for anyone to be Strawberry, he would have picked you. Words could not describe just how happy he was to have found you.

Leaning forward, he set the phone down on the coffee table and turned his body towards you. “I wanted to meet you more than anything. I never wanted you to feel like you were being played with, or to make you cry like this. My phone broke, though, and there was no way to get a new one-” Your gaze snapped back to him, confusion coloring your features.

“What are you saying, Todoroki?” Your gaze held his and he reached out to you. You didn’t move away, but you didn’t lean towards it, either. Your heart kicked into high speed as you watched the emotions that filled Todoroki’s hetero-chromatic eyes. Was he trying to make you feel better by pretending to be your missing pen pal, or could he actually be…

“I’m Cream, and you’re Strawberry.” Todoroki smiled. “Because you picked Strawberry first, so I picked Cream for my favorite sweet.” A slight frown muddled his features. “Although, I’m still uncertain why you tried to get me to pick something different…”

Relief and happiness spread throughout your body as he recounted your very first conversation. Your limbs moved before you gave it much thought, your arms wrapping around Todoroki’s neck as you embraced him tightly. His arms took barely a second before they were wrapping around you, too. “I promise I’ll explain everything, Y/N, if you’ll let me? You aren’t too mad at me, are you?”

You sniffled as fresh, happy tears slid down your cheeks. “Only a little bit, but I’m mostly just really glad that it was you all along.” A shaky laugh left you as your hold on him tightened and he did the same. “I had the biggest crush on you for the longest time.”

Todoroki felt his face flush at your confession, his heart rate picking up speed. “And now?” He hesitantly asked you.

Very slowly, you loosened your grip on him and pulled back just enough that you could look him in the eyes. You felt heat rise to your face as you blushed brightly. “Now? Even before I knew that it was you, I… I’m in love with you, Todoroki Shouto.”

A rush of relief overtook him and his mouth was suddenly covering yours in a heated kiss. You gasped in surprise, immediately feeling his tongue invade your mouth. As he explored your mouth, a small groan escaped you and he held you even tighter. You were consumed by him.

Todoroki was thrilled to have you in his arms. He’d thought that he lost his chance to make a connection with you, but he’d been getting to know you all along. He had allowed his heart to shift from you to Strawberry after your last run with him, thinking that you loved someone else. Was it destiny that you were Strawberry all along?

He didn’t care. He had you and that was all that mattered to him. Never had he wanted to kiss someone as much as he’d wanted to kiss you. He would have been content to do so for the rest of the night until the front doors to the dorm suddenly opened and the two of you wrenched apart.

A fierce blush overtook your features as the rest of Class 1-A returned. A few of them that had come in first paused at the door to stare at the two of you. Mina was first to break the silence. “Oh, thank whatever gods exist! You two finally got together! The tension was killing me!”

As your other classmates laughed in good nature, you covered your face and a pleased flush colored Todoroki’s cheeks as he smiled. Your classmates huddled around the two of you to tease and congratulate you, milling about as all of you eased into conversations about what you’d all be doing after graduation.

It was two more days until graduation, and your high school lives would be ending. However, for you and Todoroki, things were only just beginning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One year later…

Strong, but gentle hands gripped your hips as they tried to pull you back to bed. You giggled as you let them, turning around to face your lover. “Shouto, I’m hungry…” You mock whined, not really complaining that he wanted to pull you in for another kiss.

You attempted to pull away, again, but he wouldn’t let you. A grin spread across his face as he tugged you back into bed and settled you over his body. “Maybe I wanted to eat you for breakfast?” You gave a breathy laugh that quickly transformed into a moan as his left hand found your slick folds where you straddled his waist.

His cold fingers had you whimpering and he knows well enough by now to know exactly what you want. His hands gripped your thighs as he helped ease you up his body until you were straddling his face, a mischievous smirk on his lips. A shiver passed through your body, feeling the contrast in temperatures on each of your thighs. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

A high-pitched keen fell from your lips at Shouto’s warm tongue slipped between your folds and slid along the length of your slit until he found your clit. Your thighs clamped around his head, your hands flying to grip his hair as he sucked your clit into his mouth. His hands moved around to grip your ass, holding you in place as he teased you, his tongue suddenly turning cold.

You gasped at the temperature change, eliciting a moan from you when his tongue dipped down to your entrance. His tongue flashed between hot and cold as it explored within your tight inner walls, seeking the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars. You panted heavily as your fingers tightened in his hair, barely keeping up with the changing temperatures that left you shaking in his hold.

Shouto brought a hand around your hip, slipping between your legs to press his thumb against your clit. It wasn’t until you felt a searing heat that you realized it was his right hand, your head falling back on lewd moan. You ground your hips against his face as his tongue inside you went cold, needing more of his contrasting temperatures.

The tightened cord finally snapped when he switched hands on your clit, the temperatures between his thumb and his tongue suddenly switching making you orgasm hard. You cried out and reached for the headboard to help keep yourself upright as you rode out your orgasm, still grinding against his face. “Sh-Shouto…” You moaned his name as his hands gripped your thighs, again, and he slowly lapped up your release.

Your hips jerked as his tongue ran along your sensitive folds and you whimpered softly. Letting you lift yourself, Shouto smiled up at you and licked his lips. “You taste like strawberries and cream, Y/N.” Your face flushed, as it did every time he said that. He made the same comment every time he ate you out. Even though you were sure that you definitely didn’t taste like strawberries and cream, it made you smile as it reminded you of how the two of you got together.

Shouto wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he watched you climb down his body until you were nestled between his legs. His eyes blazed with heat as you took his hard cock into your hand and gave him the same smirk he’d given you before eating you out. Your tongue darted out to capture the leaking pre-cum from his slit, making him hiss with pleasure.

Not wanting to tease him too much, you closed your mouth over his swollen head and sucked hard. Hips jerked as he groaned, his fingers threading into your hair and gripping tightly. You slowly sucked in his length, your tongue gliding over each prominent vein along his girth. A low string of curses escaped Shouto as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you swallowed him down until his pubes tickled your nose.

His grip on your hair tightened until tears pricked the corners of your eyes, holding you in place until you tapped his leg to indicate you needed air. With a deep moan, he loosened his hold and let you ease back so that you could breathe, again. Once you’d taken a deep gulp of air, you dove back in and filled your mouth with his length.

Shouto was always reduced to little more than a puddle whenever you went down on him. The pace your mouth set as you swallowed him down was perfect, making him a mess of moans. Just as he was getting close, the tension building in his groin, you reached a hand to cup his balls and massage them gently while your other hand stroked his length when your mouth wasn’t covering him.

A string of curses fell from Shouto’s lips and his grip on your hair pulled you down fully on his cock as his hips jerked, spilling his hot seed down your throat. You happily drank him down and waited patiently for his grip to ease on your hair so that you could pull off of him. The moment you lifted off, he was pulling you back up to him.

You grinned at him. “Hm. You taste just like strawberries and cream.” Shouto grinned at you as he held you to his chest and pressed sweet kisses to your lips. You returned each one, shivering as his hands caressed over your skin. He wasn’t done with you.

You squealed with delight as he suddenly flipped you onto your back and he smothered you with his body. His mouth covered yours with a passionate kiss, tongue slipping between your lips with ease. You moaned, feeling his thick cock pressing against your thigh, and lifted your hips off the bed as you tried to get more of him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer, and he obliged.

Reaching between your bodies, Shouto angled himself until his tip teased against your entrance, making you mewl until he pressed himself fully inside you. You shared a moan with him at the sensation of him filling you so perfectly. Shouto had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he felt your inner walls fluttering around his cock. “So tight… Y/N…”

You lifted your legs and wrapped them around Shouto’s waist, urging him to move. “Shouto… please… ah~” Your pleading seemed to do the trick as he pulled back and snapped his hips forward to fill you, again. You cried out at his forcefulness, fingernails digging into his back as you held on for dear life.

You did your best to meet the delicious and relentless pace that Shouto set, pleasure overriding your senses. His mouth closed over the juncture of your neck, his teeth latching onto your skin as he bit you. The added pain to your pleasure made you moan loudly, your head falling back against the pillows.

Shouto moaned as he released his teeth from your neck, feeling your walls clench tightly around his cock. His hips stuttered slightly as he felt himself near the edge. Reaching between your bodies with his right hand, his fingers found your clit and massaged sloppy circles over it to push you closer to your release.

It wasn’t long before he had you plummeting over the edge and your orgasm washed over you as you cried out his name. “Shouto!” A harsh curse fell from his lips as your walls quivered and clenched over his cock as though trying to milk him for his own orgasm. It worked as he found himself following your release, painting your insides white with thick ropes of his cum.

His thrusts finally stilled when he had finished filling you with his seed. Panting heavily, your hands found Shouto’s face as you pulled him to you for a sweet kiss. He returned it, then proceeded to pepper more kisses over your face and neck as you both basked in the afterglow.

You smiled blissfully as you matched each of his kisses until his mouth found yours again. It was a long moment before he pulled back from you, sighing as he rested his face against your neck. “I love you, Strawberry.” Your smile warmed at the nickname as you held him close.

“I love you, too, Cream.”

#my work #bnharem server collab #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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mixelation · 3 years

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i know you've talked a fair amount about subverting tropes which is always fun, but are there any tropes you genuinely love? either to read or write yourself. alternatively, any tropes you absolutely despise and wish didn't exist at all?

hmm not all of these are tropes, but here’s some stuff i always feel compelled to click on:

random person ends up with villains. i don’t care if it’s a rando civilian teenager or a child or just like a “good guy” character who had a few very bad days. this shit is my jam

time travel into the character’s younger body. ESPECIALLY if it’s a semi-reformed villain trying to do slightly better. also i like it when they just create new problems instead of solving old ones :) OR--- they just easy-mode the plot but (and this is VERY IMPORTANT) it’s played for laughs/crack

crack treated seriously. please put your favorite characters in absurd situations and make them struggle to deal with it while staying IC. p l e a s e

someone’s OC gets romanced in the most generic and boring way possible. bonus points if they get involved with the protagonists in the most mundane way possible, like being someone’s accountant

alternative mentor fics

sometimes i like “OP!character” fics but the same way some people slow down to check out the aftermath of a bad car crash. bonus points if there’s character bashing that doesn’t even make sense (i.e., main character tells off their mentor figure for Sins Against Them that have not happened in canon or in fic)

when a weird plot contrivance makes characters who wouldn’t normally work together.... work together. this can either be “enemies/rivals put in a metaphorical get-along shirt by circumstance” or just “these characters have never met in canon, but i think it would be fun if they did”

there aren’t any tropes that I wish didn’t exist at all bc just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean other people shouldn’t.... but here’s some things i actively avoid clicking on (under a cut bc #negativity)

anything that invokes “alpha-beta” dynamics. this includes omegaverse, werewolf AUs, and slamming the backbutton when dog/wolf associated characters like Kakashi harp too much about “pack dynamics”

ships that emphasize devotion of a person in service to someone else as part of the ~attraction~. this includes stuff like knight/princess and bodyguard/celebrity. it doesn’t necessary include all boss/employee or commanding officer/lower ranked person ships as long as the writer isn’t going on and on about how ~loyal~ the lesser ranked person is to the higher ranked one or otherwise fetishizing the unequal power dynamic wrt their work

BAMF!Sakura fics that go out of their way to bash canon!Sakura. This includes stuff like entire chapters about Sakura learning how useless and stupid she is for, like, being 12 and having a crush on a cute boy or wanting to dress cute. Like it’s not really dealbreaker but I’ll be annoyed about it the whole time XD

“...and there was only one bed!”

98% of sick fics squick me

usually if a fic smells like an Issue Fic then i’ll steer clear, because most fic writers...... don’t know what they’re doing.

also if you inject raw DNA into your arm to gain another being’s powers i will completely lose my mind. i’ll keep reading but also know i’ll be screaming into someone’s DMs

again i want to emphasize that these are PERSONAL PREFERENCES and i don’t, you know, judge people or care that they have differing tastes. it’s normal that different people like different things. i’ve had people call me out for being too negative so i just want to emphasize this disclaimer lol

#Anonymous

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fayet · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Interview

tagged by: @stillmadaboutpetra

name: Fayet

fandoms: Listen, I’m a one-fic-person. I drop into a fandom, write that one (or two, or three) thing(s) and then go away again. So I’ve written for a lot of fandoms (LotR, Lucifer, that one Star Wars Fic I did not finish, The Witcher). My OC fandom is Harry Potter (heavily AU, though), and I’ll probably die upon that hill. (For the record, I hate Harry Potter. It’s complicated. I don’t even own the books anymore. But oh damn Severus...)

most popular multi-chapter fic: Hibernating with Ghosts (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119000), The Witcher, 183650 words, 62658 Hits, 3114 Kudos, 873 Comment Threads, 1420 Bookmarks (1033 of these are visible on the Ao3 page).

actual worst part of writing: endings. beginnings. words. trying to find typos. I don’t write in my native language. Everything is horrible, please take this damn idea out of my head. also nobody ever reads anything I write (with the exception of THAT ONE FIC above, i don’t know what happened there, seriously).

how you choose your titles: poetry or song lyric lines. I have poetry lines i have wanted to write a fic for jammed up in my head, and they are just waiting for the perfect moment. otherwise i use one word titles that don’t make sense.

do you outline: actually I do, especially when i’m constructing a multi chapter beast like hwg where there’s actual plot. but usually i don’t write those, i prefer super short one shots with barely any plot and just.. ambiance. and angst. because i do love me some angst.

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice:

That one amazing Minerva McGonagall/Severus Snape-becoming-bros fic that I’ve wanted to write for ages (because i love looking at friendships! everyone writes porn, but friendships are so fantastic and vastly overlooked in fandom). there is even already fanart for it, because the fantastic @clowmaster designed me some amazing things around the plot when I ran it by her. it has three chapters already written, but alas.. maybe one day?

That one dark gothic vibe Severus-Goes-Back-To-Voldemort with a LOT OF BLOOD in it. It’s finished, edited and everything, I just.. haven’t posted it yet.

Should I be writing a dead-dove-body-horror-gender-issues fic for SongXiao just because I have seen The Untamed ONCE and ohmygod Xiao Xingchen is beautiful? No. Am i doing it? Maybe. I mean, Yi-City-Arc and an angst writer, it’s a match made in heaven.

Also I may have an half-fnished Twin Jades-Feelings fic and some poor Song Lan angst. Someone stop me.

callouts @ me: I should really have a beta. like, srsly. But then i use writing fic for language practise, and uh.. sorry, people. i’m trying. tell me about those typos in the comments, please. Thanks.

best writing traits: Sometimes I build a plot and it holds.

spicy tangential opinion: Give me your heart, and I will break it. Hurt? No comfort? Dark deep angst? Sure, get in, we’re going to hell, it will be fun.

some general things about fic, maybe, that are a BIT spicy? I only write fics after going through the entire AO3 tag and finding that nobody has gotten the things I want to read onto paper just yet, so I gotta do it. If you people would just get my fandom opnions EXACTLY right, it would save me so much time.. (and then I’m wondering why nobody reads my shit, I mean.. d’uh).

Oi, @eskelchopchop, get on this! And I feel like @combatbootsfemme and @clowmaster could do it for art, if they feel like it.

#stillmadaboutpetra made me do it #interview with a fic writer #does anyone care #I HAVE FEELINGS for Xiao Xingchen #And Song Lan #Sorry not sorry #Fayet writes

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nightfayre · 4 years

Text

a donation drabble request for the ever kind and supportive Ayobami @tps31! thank you SO MUCH for your donation and support!! you’ll never know how much it means to me <3

prompt: tianshan quarantine fluff, aka “why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?”

(a/n: this is just a random thought but I honestly don’t think I’ve written a fic about the boys still in middle school like, ever, so thank you so much for this prompt! it was so refreshing to write them as the flustered, airheaded, and teasing boys they are!) <3

tianshan, 3600 words, rated T

* * *

Guan Shan hates this.

The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—

Guan Shan hates it.

And, what’s worse: he never asked for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.

“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”

“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”

“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”

And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”

Guan Shan choked.

Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”

“He’s already stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”

She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”

“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need compassion.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”

“A week?”

“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”

“Ma, please—“

“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”

And that, unfortunately, was that.

That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet blaringly enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude.

Guan Shan hated it.

But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.

And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door.

“Little Mo, are you naked?”

Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”

“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

“Then you can wait.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”

“That’s an average fuckin’ time for showers!”

A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”

The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. “Fuck off!”

He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied.

He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print.

If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least something valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using that specific pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — sometimes — causes him to drop his jam knife.

A stalemate, Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing?

By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner.

“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”

“I don’t work at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors.

For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns.

It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he certainly never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before.

Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort.

Guan Shan hates it.

But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick.

Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”

Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.

“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”

He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”

“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”

He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing.

“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“

“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and didn’t help at all—“

“—and I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s a normal person’s life,” Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”

He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”

And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only stare.

“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous and fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”

Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.

“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”

Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”

And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”

The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. Surely, considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—

“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”

The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away.

“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”

“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”

A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”

He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”

Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it.

“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk.

“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”

Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”

“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home, unprompted. Even I know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”

Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either.

After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. Real friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”

He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”

“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group isn’t. Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.

“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”

The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier.

Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t— need to.”

“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”

Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”

Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen.

“I don’t have a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”

He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl.

“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.

“No, dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I asked you to be.”

He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.

Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully.

And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.

“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I was expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”

It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — more — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to.

He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from He Tian, the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago.

Had he been— testing Guan Shan?

“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to justify? “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t urgent. I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”

He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse.

“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”

“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”

“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”

“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”

Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses.

He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”

“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.

“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.

Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”

“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”

“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”

Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs.

“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break.

“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”

He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”

“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one.

And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

* * *

thank you for reading! likes/reblogs would be greatly appreciated, as this fic is dedicated to the Black Lives Matter movement. if you would like a fic/drabble written for you (and you want to support the BLM cause!), please see this post!

have an incredible week! <3

#19 days #tianshan #:)))#please reblog! it would mean the world!

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sugarsugarmoon · 4 years

Text

The Rivalry

Summary: Namjoon x reader. You have always been the best in school until Kim Namjoon showed up. e2l, university!au, non-idol!au

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Unprotected sex, lots of smug Namjoon.

a/n: This is my gift for @ddaenysus for the BTS Writing Cafe Coffeehouse. I hope that you like it, darling. I tried to incorporate as much of the things you like into it. I enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you and reading your fics! 🥰

Word Count: 3147

You had always been the best in all of your classes in school. Growing up, you’d gotten all the stars, check marks, As, and pats on the back that were possible to receive. You weren’t sure what motivated you so much, but, if you weren’t the top of your class, you didn’t know who you were supposed to be. This continued into your experience at university. You pushed your way to the top of every single class, the apple of every professor’s eye. Now, you were reaping the benefits of having worked so hard through your first 3.5 years, and you had one semester left before graduating with the highest honors and moving on to graduate school.

That was, of course, until you met Kim Namjoon. For some reason, he was in two of your classes this semester even though you hadn’t been in classes with him before. When you scored 93% on a test, he’d score 96%. You were used to being the student who set the curve for all the tests, but now you found yourself coming in slightly below the top score. Kim Namjoon, however, was sitting at the very top.

You hated him. His smug, adorable face with his little dimples. Who did he think he was fooling looking that cute? You can see the danger in the way he stared, the way he held his shoulders back, the way he sat with his legs spread, leaning against the chairs casually. He always appeared like none of this was a big deal to him. Yeah, he took notes, worked on his computer, just like everyone else who did well in their classes, but he looked so effortless doing it.

You’d worked together with him and 5 other classmates on a group project, so you had his number saved in your phone. You never planned on using it, but if you ever did, it would only be to tell him what a twat you think he is. When your phone vibrates in the middle of class and you see the name on the screen, you nearly gasp out loud and do drop your phone clumsily on the floor. You pick it up to make sure you saw it correctly. You did. There on the screen, shown the name you’d least expected to see on your phone in the middle of this class: Kim Namjoon.

Why the hell was Kim Namjoon texting you? He’s sitting 10 feet away from you. What could he possibly want?

When you swipe your phone open, the text simply reads, “Why are you looking at me like I personally insulted you and your entire family?”

You roll your eyes and type out a response. “First of all, I was not looking at you. I have better things to do with my time. Second of all, you have personally insulted me and my entire family.”

“What? How?”

The two of you are usually attentive in class, but, now, you’ve distracted one another. Before you can get your snarky shot off, the professor calls on Namjoon to answer the question. Namjoon panics a little, and you snicker to yourself. Though, it does become less satisfying when after a stunned moment, Namjoon answers the question correctly. You sulk in your seat for the rest of class, forgetting your half-typed venomous words waiting for Namjoon. Your phone slips out of your hand and clatters on the tile floor.

The professor turns to you and, with his face scrunched in anger, asks, “I’m sorry, y/n. Was I boring you so much that you needed to be on your phone while I was talking?”

You feel your cheeks instantly heating, and you almost want to cry because you rarely get into trouble, especially at school.

“No, sir, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The professor looks at you through his narrowed eyes, “You better hope so. You can have another try next class, but, for now, since you violated my cell phone policy, you need to get out.”

Your jaw drops, and you feel the tears well behind your eyes. You hastily collect your notebook, pen, and backpack, and you skulk out of the classroom, trying hard to avoid eye contact with your classmates.

Once the brisk air outside hits your face, you feel the tears start to fall from your eyes, rolling dramatically down your cheeks. This was all fucking Kim Namjoon’s fault. That handsome asshole just kept causing you problems. You continue dwelling on everything that he’s done wrong to you or every annoying habit he has or how often he knocks over things sitting on his desk.

You are so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the figure approaching behind you, and the tap on your shoulder causes you to jump and shout. When you turn, it’s the person you’d least like to see. Kim fucking Namjoon.

“What?” you spit, wiping at your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m really sorry for getting you into trouble back there. I started it, and you just got caught when I didn’t.”

You look at him. It’s so typical of guys like him: apologize but then keep on doing what he was doing. You mutter “typical” under your breath.

“Okay, seriously,” Namjoon huffs, “What did I do to you? What is your problem with me? I truly apologize for anything that I’ve done, but I have no idea what it is.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know what you’ve done. All you care about is yourself, and you are so smug all the time about yourself and about how you think you’re better than everyone,” you force out, though your voice is a little shaky from the tears that are now drying on your cheeks. You feel your hands shaking, and you want to take your fists and beat them on his chest.

“So...you hate me over some perceived slight because, and tell me if I’m getting this wrong, you think that I think I’m better than other people even though you’ve never asked. And you also hate me because...I do well in my classes? Really?” His face starts to contort with anger, and his typical soft expression shifts in into a harsh, tight look, with his jaw set and his mouth a hard line.

You are fuming. He is so smug, and now he’s telling you that the clearly observable facts about him are a “perceived slight.” Instead of responding, you just turn on your heel and begin to walk away. This time, it seems that he doesn’t follow you, and you make your way to the university housing and flop down onto your bed.

About a week later, you are in the library, perusing the stacks for a particular book for your research for your Human Sexuality class. You turn down an aisle, and there you see Kim Namjoon, squatting and intently reading the titles of books on the shelf. You roll your eyes and turn to walk away. He stands up, a book in hand, and turns to walk your direction before you disappear. You hear a soft whisper of your name as you turn down another aisle and sneak out of the library.

Then, suddenly, he’s everywhere. You see him in the library and in class. You also see him at the cafe you go to to study. You have your books spread across a four person table, headphones in, blasting your study jams. You are working diligently on your computer when the light from the window becomes blocked. You look up to see Namjoon standing before you. You pop one of your earbuds out.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you,” he sounds shy and nervous, “but there are no more open tables. I was wondering if I could take up a tiny bit of your space since I actually know you?”

You want to say no, but you don’t want to be cruel. After all, you want to show him that you are a better person than him.

“Fine,” you say curtly, “but please don’t bother me, I’m working on my research for Human Sexuality.”

“Oh! Me too. What are you researching?”

“Not that it matters to you, but I’m researching the effectiveness of sex therapy.” You shrug your shoulders and go to slip your earbud into your ear.

“No way! Me too!” Namjoon exclaims excitedly, shifting slightly in his chair. “Did you read the Hawton article?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I read the Hawton article. What am I, an amateur? I think he made some really compelling arguments for the long term effectiveness, which is empirically provable through anecdotal evidence, but what I want to talk about is the short-term effectiveness and quantitative data.”

A smile spreads wide across Namjoon’s face, and, again, he shifts slightly in his chair, a little awkwardly this time. He looks deep into your eyes with the softest expression you’ve ever seen him give you.

“What?” you ask, furrowing your brow.

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but that was the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.”

You are stunned, and you feel your jaw fall open. Is he fucking kidding? you ask yourself as you contemplate what he could possibly want from you. He giggles to himself, cheeks red, and runs a hand through his hair, resting his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I just...can’t stop thinking about how smart you are and how good you looked in that skirt last week…” he rambles off and starts to pack up his things.

“Wait!” you reach your hand out to grab his. You are completely unsure of what you’re even doing. After a moment’s pause, you ask, “do you have A Clinician’s Guide to Systemic Sex Therapy?”

You are still holding onto his hand as he nods slowly. He looks down at where your fingers are wrapped around his hand, fingertips resting on his palm.

“I have it at my apartment. I can bring it to you or…” he trails off again, so you jump in.

“How about I just come with you to get it? It’ll be quicker that way.”

You have no idea what you’re doing, but you can’t help the image of Namjoon over you, panting and sweaty, from entering your mind over and over. You’ve just been working on the sex therapy research for too long. It’s just been too long since you’ve been with him. It’s not the way that his dimples peak through when he smiles, the way that his hair is parted slightly off center and rests haphazardly against his not, the way that he’s the only person with whom you’ve carried on an intellectual conversation about the topics you’re interested in in months, the way that he sits with his legs spread and his thighs showing in his shorts. It’s definitely not any of that.

Namjoon nods again, shoving his notebook into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He watches you a little impatiently as you pack up your notes, books, and computer. When you have your satchel draped across your body, he grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him.

He lives a short walk from the cafe, so, before you know it, you’re stepping into the foyer of his apartment.

“My roommate is out, so we can...study...here if you want to,” he says, looking into your eyes intensely before stalking off through the living room into one of the doorways in the hall which you assume is his room.

You scurry down the hallway, following him. When you get to the doorway he entered, he’s standing in the middle of the room with the book in his hand. The expression on his face is so penetrating, like he’s already undressing you with his eyes.

You drop your satchel absentmindedly on the floor and walk toward him. You stand about 6 inches in front of him, suddenly very aware of your own breath. What am I doing? you ask yourself again. Is this really what I want? Before you’re able to doubt yourself, you look up into his eyes and your breath catches.

He slips his hand around the back of your neck, and his fingers tangle into your hair at the nape of your neck. He stays there, hovering over your face for a moment. You push yourself up onto your toes until your lips are touching his. Your mouths start to slowly move together, pushing past the awkwardness of the moment. He uses his hand on your neck to press harder into the kiss, angling your head to kiss you deeper.

Your hands wrap around his back up under his shirt. His skin is smooth under your fingertips, and you feel your body press against him. The heat growing between your legs causes you to let out a small moan into his mouth. He pulls away and looks at you, smiling for a moment until the intense countenance returns.

He pushes you back on to his bed and guides his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants. He looks at you to make sure it’s okay, and, when you nod, he loops his fingers into both your sweats and your panties. He yanks them off and tosses them aside. He positions himself between your legs, which has you absolutely dripping.

He pushes your legs open and dips his head to your folds. He makes eye contact with you as his tongue begins to circle your clit slowly. You feel your back arching off the sheets of his bed as he runs his tongue through your arousal down to your entrance and back to your clit. He wraps his lips around it and sucks it between his lips. Little moans and whimpers escape past your lips, and he brings his fingers to your entrance.

After circling his fingers through your arousal, he slides one into you slowly. He pumps the one finger in and back out until you’ve adjusted, and he slides another in. With his mouth on you and his his fingers inside of you, the moans become louder, and you can’t control your hips.

You push yourself against his face, and he pulls away. He chuckles to himself. “For someone who hated me earlier today, you sure can’t get enough of me.”

His smirk sends both rage and arousal straight to your core. “Okay, whatever, Mr. ‘that’s the sexiest sentence you’ve ever said.’ You’re one to talk.”

His smirk remains, and he laughs sarcastically. “Yeah, but I haven’t had some sort of rivalry with you in my head since we met. I’ve always thought you were hot. You just didn’t even give me a chance to talk to you.”

You roll your eyes and feel the heat sneaking into your cheeks. “Fine. Okay. I didn’t give you a chance. You know that arousal and aggression are very close processes in the brain, so it isn’t a surprise that I want to fuck you.”

You feel hot blush creeping into your face and neck at having said that out loud. He crawls up, so he’s hovering over your face.

“Oh, so you do want me to fuck you?” that intense gaze has returned to his face, and you don’t know where to look.

“Yes, okay! Would you just hurry up and fuck me, Namjoon?”

He hovers over you for a moment longer then presses his lips gingerly against yours. “You could ask nicely, you know.”

You roll your eyes so hard that you think that they might get stuck in the back of your head.

“Y/n, I won’t do it unless you use your nice words.”

You huff. “Fine. Namjoon, please fuck me.”

He giggles to himself, dismounts, and starts to take off his clothes. Before he pulls his underwear down, he pulls your shirt up over your head, taking in a sharp breath when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He pushes his underwear to his ankles and climbs back on top of you.

Wordlessly, he aligns himself with you and pushes inside. You gasp at the stretch of his dick in your pussy. You rock gently against him trying to get used to it while stimulating yourself. His pubic bone is causing friction on your clit as he’s buried inside you. You let out a moan, and he pulls back and guides himself slowly back into you. Keeping a slow, rhythmic pace.

Once you’ve adjusted, you whisper, “Joon, faster please.”

He shifts back to his knees, grabbing each of your legs in his hands to spread you open. He starts at an unrelenting pace. He drops one of your legs and moves his lithe fingers to your clit. He rubs a steady pace, perfectly matching the one his hips have established. You feel yourself careening towards an orgasm, and you hardly have time to warn Namjoon before you are pulsing around him, all of your muscles clenching.

He fucks you through it, his cock hitting all of your most sensitive places, pulling your orgasm out as it continues to wrack through your body.

As you come down from your orgasm, still slightly disoriented, Namjoon asks in a shaky voice, “Y/n, where should I cum?”

“Fill me up, please. I want you all the way inside me. I’m on birth control.” You’re panting and feel your hair sticking to your forehead as his hips start to stutter.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to fill you so full of my cum.”

You look at him for a moment, his face strained, and then he groans long and low. You fill him painting your insides with his release, and you pull him down against you as he continues to vaguely move his hips.

As he stops moving, he slides his hands underneath, under your back.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for so long for that,” he sighs, nestling into your neck.

“Excuse me. You what?” you ask incredulously.

“That’s right. I’ve wanted to fuck you from the moment I saw you. And then when I heard you talk in class. And when I watched the way you look while you study. And when you get flustered or frazzled. And when you’re mean to me. Yeah, pretty much all the time.”

“Look, Namjoon, this doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend or anything,” you start. Namjoon leans up and looks you in the eye, looking slightly disappointed. “But we can start here. I’ll stop being so cold to you at the least. I’m also not opposed to doing this again...a lot.”

He chuckles and buries his face back into your neck. “Deal.”

The two of you stay like that, entwined in one another for what feels like several hours before you decide you should actually do the studying you came here to do.

#btscafe20 #btswritingcafe #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #namjoon oneshot

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