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scuttling · 3 years

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If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #request

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taeyongdoyoung · 3 years

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summary: as someone who’s been tormented for being a nerd, you’ve never viewed your friendly teasing towards your best friend seonghwa as bullying. but that is until he completely changes his style and image in school, confronting you about your past behaviour, so you have no choice but to admit the real reason why you’ve been making fun of him...

pairing: popular boy!seonghwa x nerd!reader

genre: high school!AU (the characters are 18 for the spicy parts huehehe), best friends to fake dating to lovers, angst, romance, smut, fluff

warnings: friendly teasing, clichéd/unrealistic portrayal of high school dynamics, hwa does kabedon on yn like once, seonghwa’s a bit of a tsundere, fake dating, hints of possessiveness, slightly problematic remarks, yn is briefly hwa’s slave?! (no, i will not elaborate), bullying, mean girls, insults, hair-pulling, kicking, death threats, some swearing, self-blame, power play, overuse of pet names (princess, baby, little girl, etc.), sir kink (i won’t apologize lol), begging, yunho being nosy (yes, that’s a warning), mention of hypothetical collars, insecurities, making out, loss of virginities, lots of kissing, soft dom!hwa, eating out, fingering, blowjob, consensual protected sex, dirty talk, praising, aftercare, crying, hurt&comfort, a lot of dorky references (cuz that’s me, after all), jumping off a balcony (don’t try this at home!), happy ending

author’s note: will i ever stop bullying poor hwa’s kermit hoodie? no. jk, i lov him so much, he’s so talented & gorgeous no matter what he wears ;-;

disclaimer: all jokes aside, i do not in any way condone bullying and this work is entirely fictional for entertainment purposes! i’ve been physically and emotionally tormented in school and though i have not talked much about it, i do not wish such an experience to anyone! treating people with kindness is cool and i hope everyone spreads more love! ❤️

word count: 9.4k

Having been best friends with Seonghwa for four years now (ever since your first year in high school), you couldn’t help but making fun of every little adorable thing he did. And honestly, you admired his patience when it came to putting up with your incessant teasing. Diligently cleaning up everything after him? You’d call him a neat freak. Not being able to drink coffee? You’d call him a teacup loser.

So, when he started wearing that green hoodie of his to school, you couldn’t resist the temptation to call him Kermit the frog. And at first, it all started as a joke. But then the nickname kinda stuck and you just kept addressing him as Kermit, even if he wasn’t wearing the delectable green hoodie. And at one point, you could tell that poor Seonghwa was not a huge fan of the whole thing. But he never called you out on it or told you to stop. He never teased you back for being a hopeless nerd who studied 24/7 and read books for fun. So, you kept going.

Until the summer before your last year in high school arrived. Sadly, Seonghwa was going to be out of the country for the whole vacation. You were going to miss him terribly, you realized. You had become so used to seeing him everyday that you couldn’t imagine how you’d last three months without being able to see his pretty face all the time. You’d occasionally text him memes and ask him what he was up to. But as the summer was coming to an end, his replies became less and less frequent, more and more concise. You kept wondering if you’d done something wrong. It couldn’t be the Kermit thing, you began telling yourself. After all, it was normal to tease your best friend every once in a while. Right?

When the first day of your last year in high school came, you were nervously anticipating the moment when you’d see Seonghwa again. Summer without him had been so boring and you couldn’t wait to hug him again and find a new thing to joke about.

The second you saw him, you instinctively knew there would be no more joking around. Seonghwa practically walked into the school hallway like he owned the place. He’d completely changed his style and overall image. Gone were the dorky hoodies you secretly loved so much. Instead, they were replaced by a black leather jacket. Gone were the casual sweatpants he looked so good in. In their place were dark jeans that made him look kinda dangerous. And the whole confidence with which he carried himself was just totally different.

If you had known that a summer abroad could change a person so much, you would have tried harder at convincing him to stay in the country. On top of it all, he was now hanging out with a bunch of popular a-holes that you had never talked to before. Honestly, you couldn’t even gather the courage to approach your best friend. He looked so distant and unfamiliar that you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Especially when you heard him laughing at the cool kids’ jokes. That should have been you...

You remembered when you were the one making him giggle, as if it was a century ago, when in reality it was just a couple of months. You kept sighing during the whole day, not daring to even talk to him. If he wanted to still hang out with you after his sudden “change in status”, he would, you kept convincing yourself. But he didn’t. In fact, he ignored you the whole day, making you feel like shit.

Just as you were leaving the school building in a hurry, mentally prepared for an evening of crying your eyes out and eating ice cream, you felt a hand grabbing you tightly. Turning around, you were surprised to find Seonghwa’s eyes staring back at you.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted you calmly.

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you responded dumbly.

“What? No witty comeback?” Seonghwa scoffed, smirking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Aren’t you gonna bully me and call me names again? Kermit? Teacup loser? Neat freak? What’s it gonna be this time?” he spat out, pushing you against the school wall and extending his arms to touch the cold bricks so that you would feel trapped.

“Bully you?” you whispered in disbelief. “H-hwa, I wasn’t...I didn’t m-mean...”

“Oh, yeah?” he mocked your stuttering self. “Then, why did you say all these things, huh?”

“You know why,” you replied.

“No, I don’t. So, tell me right now or I swear, I can make your existence a living hell,” Seonghwa threatened.

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you cried out. “I like you so that’s why I’ve been teasing you. Because if I didn’t, I would have to admit how attractive I find all your habits. How adorable it is when you used to tidy your desk and how sexy you looked in that damned green hoodie. There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

You were so frustrated with the way he ignored you all day only to accuse you of bullying him that you ducked your head swiftly beneath his arm, simultaneously bending your knees, and, thus, successfully escaping from Seonghwa’s ambush.

“Y/N, wait!” he called after you, but you were running too fast and luck was on your side, as the bus arrived at that exact same moment, allowing you to get on it, before he could.

You couldn’t sleep much that night, tormented by the fact Seonghwa had confused your friendly jokes with bullying and how foolishly you’d confessed your feelings for him. You were certain that your affections were unrequited and now that he had this whole new position in the school hierarchy, he would undoubtedly make fun of you for them. You were even considering transferring to another school to avoid the potential embarrassment.

In the morning, no sooner had you finished breakfast in the comfort of your room than you heard loud honks. They were unlike the ones in your dad’s car so you couldn’t help but wonder what jerk had decided to park in front of your house and make your day even worse.

“Sweetie,” your mom informed you a bit after. “Your friend Seonghwa is here. He said he’ll drive you to school today. As promised.”

“He did?” you mumbled in confusion. But maybe because you weren’t ready to talk to your mom yet about what happened yesterday, you lied. “Ah, that’s right, I almost forgot.”

Hurriedly, you grabbed your bag and practically sprinted downstairs. You were curious to see what he wanted. And that’s exactly what you asked the minute you entered his car.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Aw, no good morning for me, princess?” Seonghwa pouted and God, you hated how cute you found him after the way he’d treated you the previous day. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he rolled his eyes, starting the engine. “I’m driving you to school.”

“I can see that. But why?” you hissed.

“Well, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he groaned. “If you’re so insistent on finding out, I’ll tell you. Ever since you told me how you felt yesterday, I’ve been thinking...And I’ve come to the conclusion that you have two options. Option number one is to enjoy your hellish last year of high school. You’ve had your fair share of teasing me so I’m definitely going to enjoy telling everyone about your little crush on me. It’s going to be so much fun to embarrass you in front of the whole school.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? Seonghwa was supposed to be your best friend! Why was he suddenly acting like you were worth less than a dirty rug? Was it possible that he had changed so much in the span of three months? Or was he always like that? Had you been blinded by his good looks? No, that definitely wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was the sweetest guy you’d ever known. How did he get so...cold? Cold enough to chill your bones.

“And what’s option number two?” you grunted, already anticipating the worst.

“So, there’s this annoying girl in our class I want to avoid at all costs. Just because her parents are doing business with mine does not mean I’m into her. Option number two is for us to pretend we’re dating in school. Considering how much you like me, I’m assuming it won’t be very difficult for you to pretend. If you agree, that is.”

What a jerk...You shared your sincere feelings with your best friend and that’s the first thing that crossed his mind? To use you in order to avoid some random girl? If it was any other guy, you would have said no. If you weren’t desperate for even a fraction of Seonghwa’s time and attention, you would have said no. If you weren’t so pathetically whipped for him, you would have said no.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “For how long do you need me to be your fake girlfriend?”

“Just until graduation. Then, we’ll fake break up and each go our separate ways. How does that sound?”

It sounded terrible! You wanted Seonghwa to be a part of your life forever. But with the way he was treating you, you weren’t confident he felt the same way anymore.

“Sounds great,” you lied, because you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing your thoughts. You’d never be perceived as weak again.

The second you walked into school, Seonghwa’s arm wrapped possessively around your shoulder, everyone’s eyes were on you. It was like high-schoolers had no better thing to occupy their time with but to gossip around the latest dating news. If you weren’t enjoying his company so much, you would have found their reactions pathetic. And somewhat unnerving.

“When did you two lovebirds start seeing each other?” one of Seonghwa’s popular friends Yunho asked.

“Oh, you know what they say. A girl and a guy can’t stay just friends for long,” Seonghwa responded.

You internally rolled your eyes. Your best friend before the summer would have never said such a thing. Whatever the reason for his current behaviour was, you would get to the bottom of it. And right now, you felt like going along with this whole fake dating thing was your best chance at unraveling the mystery.

For the first day of your little arrangement, everything seemed to be going fine. Everyone was staring at you two but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was him. However, soon enough Seonghwa started asking you for weird things.

“Carry my bag for me.” / “Get me a drink from the vending machine, will you?” / “Bring me a snack from the supermarket across the street.” / “Oh, and for my friends, too, doll.”

Seriously, it was getting infuriating. You no longer felt like you were his bestie. You didn’t even feel like you were his fake girlfriend. At this point, you had practically become his slave! Running any errand and carrying his stuff for him. But what was the alternative? If you refused to play your part in this pretend dating scheme, he could easily turn against you and make fun of you in front of the whole school. So, you kept your mouth shut and swallowed your pride.

One evening, around a month after the fake dating agreement had started, you had stayed in the library a bit longer to prepare for an upcoming assignment. By the time you were out of the school building, you supposed that Seonghwa had already gone home. Frankly, the only nice thing he was intent on doing for you was driving you to school and back to your place most of the days.

As you were making your way towards the bus stop, you had the strangest suspicion you were being followed. Not daring to turn around, you started walking faster. But unfortunately, your attackers also sped up and soon enough, you were surrounded by a group of angry faces. Their leader was obviously Eunhee, the most popular girl in the whole school. And coincidentally, this was also the girl whose parents were doing business with Seonghwa’s parents. The very reason you were fake dating your best friend in the first place.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bookshrimp,” she mocked you, sticking a sharp nail into your chest. You didn’t bother correcting her that the right term was bookworm. You were already in enough trouble as it was. For some reason, teasing Seonghwa had been easy because you meant well and you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Not really. Because he knew how badly you’d been bullied in middle school. But now that you were met with so many threatening figures, you froze rightaway, unable to defend yourself.

“Just l-leave me alone,” you stammered.

“Aw, aren’t you a little pathetic shrimpie?” Eunhee cooed and started pulling your hair harshly and kicking you onto the ground. The other girls were holding you down so that you wouldn’t fight back. “Did you seriously believe you can steal Seonghwa from me? We’re meant to be together and if you stand in our way, I will fucking kill you!”

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” you exclaimed sorrowfully. You tried your best to shield yourself and push her away but her loyal minions were preventing you from doing so. Just as Eunhee was about to slap you across the face, you witnessed as her threatening hand was stopped mid-air by the interloper whose features you couldn’t quite discern in the dark. But whose voice you would recognize anywhere.

“You think you’re so brave?” Seonghwa yelled at Eunhee and her friends. “Ganging up on her like that? Six against one? You’re the pathetic ones.”

“Hwa, we were just trying to teach her a lesson. She should learn her place, after all,” Eunhee tried to explain.

“A lesson?” he scoffed. “You dumbasses can’t even pass Calculus and you want to teach the smartest girl in our school a lesson?” your heart melted with warmth at how highly he thought of you. “Oh, that’s rich.”

“You won’t tell my dad, right?” Eunhee was suddenly on the defensive. She’d probably be in big trouble if he found out how his precious daughter was behaving in school.

“Get out of my sight right now or I’ll tell the whole country,” Seonghwa threatened through gritted teeth. (Later on, he actually did tell her dad about the incident and Eunhee, along with her followers, were suspended from school for two weeks. Oh, and their rich parents cut off their money, which was pretty impressive an accomplishment). And so, the vicious girls scattered like roaches in daylight. Pulling you onto your feet, Seonghwa grabbed your hand and started walking towards his car which you somehow hadn’t noticed parked nearby. Getting inside, he started the engine immediately but his hands were clutching the steering wheel so hard you were feeling a bit scared. You had never seen your best friend so angry. Well, maybe the only other time that came close was when you were telling him about your past experiences with bullying...

“Are you mad at me?” you asked sheepishly.

“At you?” he chuckled harshly. “Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t know...”

“Why didn’t you fight them back?” Seonghwa inquired.

“I tried, but I was reminded of middle school and just...froze. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m not blaming you,” he replied calmly. “I was just wondering. Cause I know you’ve been going to self-defense classes. And I thought you were making progress. I mean, the last time I came to watch, you were pretty good.”

That was before the summer. Of course it was. Still, you were touched by the fact that he remembered. Despite acting like he didn’t care, you instinctively knew he did.

“I mean, I was,” you said. “But I panicked.”

Seonghwa let go of the wheel with one hand and placed it on your bare knee, rubbing calming circles around it. You two were alone so you were certain this was no longer the fake dating thing. This was just your best friend being there for you when you needed him the most.

“If anyone tries that shit again, just tell them you’re my girlfriend, alright? They have to be idiots to mess with you,” he spoke angrily.

“Fake girlfriend,” you reminded him sadly.

“That’s none of their business,” he replied, but didn’t correct you. Oh, how badly you wished to be his real girlfriend. To show him how much you cared for him.

“Why did you change so much over the summer?” you suddenly asked, while Seonghwa was driving you home.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seonghwa responded harshly. “You don’t like my green hoodie and you also don’t like my leather jacket? There’s really no satisfying you, is there?”

“I didn’t mean your clothes,” you mumbled. “Just...your overall attitude towards me. Before the summer you used to let me squeeze your cheeks and sit in your lap and now you seem so...unapproachable. I’m just saying, we were closer when I was your best friend than we are now that I’m your fake girlfriend.”

Seonghwa stopped the car abruptly, making you blink in shock.

“I changed because I was sick of you treating me like a little boy and I wanted you to start seeing me as a man,” he admitted but without looking into your eyes.

“W-what are you saying?” you swallowed nervously.

“Nevermind.”

“No, you have to talk to me, Hwa!” you insisted desperately. “If you still consider me your best friend, be honest with me. Please.”

“This,” he gestured vaguely at you as he finally met your gaze. “This is exactly why I changed so much, Y/N. I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

His cruel words hurt you more than anything you’d ever experienced in your life. More than all the bullying, the slapping and getting pushed against a wall. Losing your best friend was your worst fear. But you had promised yourself to never be weak again. So the second he said that, you pulled the handle of the side door, attempting to get out of his car. Before you could do that, Seonghwa grabbed your hand, effectively keeping you in place.

“I want to be your boyfriend. For real this time,” he elaborated.

You stared at him in utter confusion.

“But...when I confessed, you acted like you didn’t care. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Forget how I acted. I only offered the fake dating shit because I wanted to get closer to you again. Make up for the lost time during the summer. Do you honestly think I give a fuck about what Eunhee thinks or says about me? I just used that as an excuse. I’ve told her I’m not into her hundreds of times. And yes, maybe I have changed. Not because I don’t care about you. But because I do. You used to gush about Count Dracula and Darth Vader so much that I thought if I became the bad guy, you’d finally notice me. I wanted so terribly to impress you and make you stop seeing me as your adorable best friend that I got too lost in the feeling of holding power over you...Too lost to notice you liked me all along, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you whispered teary-eyed. “I do,” correcting yourself. “H-hwa, I’m so sorry to break it to you but-”

“If you reject me, I won’t be responsible for attempted murder,” Seonghwa interrupted you jokingly.

“I’m so sorry to break it to you,” you repeated with a sly smirk. “But no matter how hard you try to change, I will always see you as my adorable best friend. And though I have to admit I did stop teasing you temporarily, that was only because you suddenly started behaving like the dangerously sexy king of the high school. Can you blame me for feeling a little intimidated? I know I’ve said this before but I didn’t think me teasingly calling you Kermit would go this far. I never meant to hurt you, Hwa.”

“I know you didn’t, princess,” Seonghwa whispered, gently stroking your cheeks.

“And yes,” you smiled shyly, leaning into his touch.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to be your real girlfriend. It would be a dream come true.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled, as if the very idea seemed amusing to him. “How badly do you want it?”

“So badly, I would do anything for you, sir,” you uttered the last word without thinking much, your brain somehow recalling a time when you two had discussed how you’d enjoy being called by a potential significant other. In retrospect, that wasn’t really a thing best friends generally talked about.

“Sir?” Seonghwa grinned, leaning his head against your forehead. “Keep that up and your real girlfriend status will be confirmed.”

“I want to kiss you so much,” you were on the verge of begging. Oh, screw it. “Please, please, let me kiss you.”

He didn’t respond, just connected your lips with his own softly, taking his time with you. It was pure magic. You had thought about kissing your best friend thousands of times. But nothing compared to the reality. Parting your lips further to let his tongue in, you physically couldn’t prevent yourself from moaning into his mouth, overwhelmed by how good it felt. How insanely intoxicating he tasted. How you were burning alive and it would be the sweetest death imaginable.

“Not if I kiss you first,” Seonghwa said once he broke the kiss apart. “Oh, wait, I just did.”

What the hell...had just happened? Sneaking a peak at the time, you were suddenly panicking by how late it was.

“Holy shit, my parents are going to kill me!” you exclaimed. “Can you please drive me home?”

“Sure thing, princess,” he laughed, increasingly amused by your flustered self. “That’s exactly what I was intending to do anyways. I’m not in the habit of keeping little girls past their bed time.”

“Shut up, I’m not a little girl!” you complained. “I’m just a few months younger than you. Asshole.”

“Hey! Is that any way to speak to your devoted boyfriend?” Seonghwa scolded you teasingly.

Oh, God. You loved the sound of that. Your best friend was now your boyfriend. It still felt unreal.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mewled apologetically, already knowing how to make him weak for you with just one tiny word. “And thank you for taking me home.”

“Anytime,” Seonghwa smiled. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

You could get used to it. Reaching forward to open the door for you, he whispered in your ear:

“I’m taking you out on our first date. Doll yourself up for me, will you?”

You nodded, your heart beating too fast to actually manage a verbal response. After you got inside and suffered a brief interrogation from your parents (using the library+extra assignments excuse), you hurried up the stairs, took a quick shower and then went to bed. No sooner had you closed your eyes than your phone buzzed with notifications.

Kermit the Frog: You still up?

Kermit the Frog: For fear of sounding lame, I moss you already

Kermit the Frog: *Miss...damn autocorrect

You chuckled upon seeing his messages. Whatever demon possessed you to still keep that nickname in your chat, you knew you had to change it immediately. If he saw it on your first date tomorrow, you would never hear the end of it.

You: I’m awake, yes

You: And I moss you too 😉

You purposefully misspelled the word to tease him. After all, it was only in order.

Boyfie 🐸: That obnoxious Kermit nickname better be gone by tomorrow

He texted as if he’d read your mind and you gasped in surprise.

Boyfie 🐸: Or we’re having our first couple fight!!

You: How did you know?!?

Boyfie 🐸: Not my fault you keep your phone unlocked sometimes

Boyfie 🐸: I’m not kidding, change it right now 😡

You: Changed it already

You texted him back quickly, sending him a screenshot.

You: Can I at least keep the frog emoji? 🥺

Boyfie 🐸: NO!!! REMOVE IT OR WE BREAK UP 😡😡😡

You: Damnit, Hwa, your angery Aries is showing...okay, fineee

You sent another screenshot of the now changed emoji.

You: Happy now?

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Much better, princess 🤗🤗🤗

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Now go to sleep, we have early classes tomorrow

You: Wow, so bossy. Okay, sir, I’m going

Boyfie ❤️🖤💙: Good night, my baby 😘

You: Staaahp, ohmygosh. And good night, Hwa 🥺

The next morning you ran outside faster than The Flash as soon as you heard the oh-so-familiar honks. When you saw Seonghwa waiting there to pick you up, your heart did a backflip as you excitedly took the passenger seat.

“Good morning, boyfriend,” you greeted him and kissed his cheek. “This still feels so strange.”

“Well, you better get used to it, doll. Wow, you really cleaned up nicely today,” he complimented your pastel pink dress. “Not that you usually don’t! You’re always gorgeous, I just meant that you’re especially gorgeous and...nope, that also sounds wrong. Okay, I shut up now.”

“Relax,” you giggled. “It’s fine. I appreciate the effort. You don’t look so bad yourself. Oh, who am I kidding? You’re practically sex on legs 24/7. I think it’s time for me to shut up now.”

“You’re so cute when you get flustered. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Just you,” you admitted.

Once you walked into the school, it was like everyone noticed the subtle change in your dynamic. Because Seonghwa did something he never did before. He carried your bag and gave you his leather jacket! And Hwa’s friends were immediately onto you like bees to honey.

“I mean, I knew you guys were dating,” Seonghwa’s friend Yunho observed. “But I never saw the chemistry before, to be honest. Until now. I mean, come on, Y/N was like a loyal puppy, always following Hwa around.”

“Hey, don’t give him any ideas!” you joked.

“Too late. Already ordered the collar,” Seonghwa winked.

“Kinky. Can’t tell if I’m into it or want to cut off my ears,” Yunho grinned. “Probably both.”

“Nice chat, but we gotta head to class, Yu,” Seonghwa said because his friend was in a different class.

“See you for lunch?” Yunho suggested.

“Can’t. Already made plans with this little girl,” Hwa tilted his head towards you.

“Whoo, enjoy, then!”

“It’s not what it sounds like!” you groaned, feeling uncharacteristically embarassed.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa smirked mysteriously and pulled you towards the room you had class in.

“Nothing involving collars and puppies, I assure you!” you yelled (perhaps a little too loudly), twisting your head, not wanting to give Yunho and the rest of Seonghwa’s friends the wrong idea.

When your classes for the day were over, Seonghwa led you towards his car once again. You were a bit nervous to make a good impression on your first date. Even though it was silly. Your best friend of four years had surely made a first impression a long time ago.

“Where are we going?” you asked to break the awkward silence.

“It’s a surprise, princess. Can you be patient for me?”

“I can,” you promised dutifully and placed your tiny hand on top of his. “Anything for you, sir.”

Seonghwa lost focus on the road for the briefest of moments in order to give you a warning look. One look and that was all you needed to keep you quiet and obedient. Eventually, you realized where he was taking you. Though you hadn’t been to his place for a couple of months now, you couldn’t forget how the drive to Seonghwa’s home looked.

“I dressed myself up and we’re just going to your place?” you hmphed in playful annoyance. “So much for our glamorous first date.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of my cooking skills. Shit, I sorta ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Aww, you were planning to cook for me on our first date? Hwaaa, I’ve only had you as a boyfriend for less than 24 hours and you’re already pulling out the big guns! I don’t mean to push my luck but if you’re cooking now, I’m trembling to witness our one month anniversary.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“You’re very ambitious to think you can put up with me for an entire month.”

”Hwa, sweetie, I’ve put up with you for four years.”

“Not as your boyfriend, you haven’t.”

“We’ll talk again in 30 days,” you vowed enigmatically.

“Here we are,” Seonghwa announced once he parked in front of his home. “My parents are currently at work so you don’t need to worry about...well, anything, really.”

“What’s the supposed to mean?” for some reason his words made you even more worried.

“Nothing, I just meant you can...like, be yourself. There’s no one to impress.”

“There’s you,” you pointed out. “Don’t forget your parents already know me. And besides, you’re the only person I care about impressing.”

“Not to stroke your ego, but you’ve already impressed me. After all, you’re the only one who’s had the audacity to compare me to a freaking muppet and survived.”

“Point taken,” you chuckled.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Seonghwa suggested and the two of you entered his house. No matter how much you begged him to let you help with the cooking, he was insistent that he would do all the work. Said something about making up to you for the times you had to carry his bag or buy snacks to him and his friends. When you argued that you also had some making up to do for all the times you teased him a little too insensitively, he said that you agreeing to be his real girlfriend was enough to satisfy his wounded heart. Seeing that there was no point in arguing, you gave up and occupied yourself by mindlessly scrolling through social media. About an hour later, Seonghwa finally deemed his culinary masterpieces ready to be eaten. He allowed you to at least help set the table which you considered a small victory. The second you tried the first meal, you were so overwhelmed by the exquisite tastes that you spoke without thinking much.

“God, I wanna marry you.”

Seonghwa simply chuckled, amused by your unexpected reaction.

“Did I say that out loud?” you whispered, completely mortified, covering your mouth in embarassment.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit, I’m such a mess,” you mumbled.

“No, it’s fine. I take it as a compliment. Now, eat up before it gets cold. If my wicked plan works, you’ll have bought me a wedding ring by the time dessert arrives.”

“Truly wicked. I’m in danger,” you laughed and kept enjoying the various meals Seonghwa had prepared.

Once the plates were empty, you felt so full and warm you couldn’t possibly move. And no, that wasn’t an exaggeration. Seonghwa had to physically carry you to the couch so that you two would re-watch Star Wars: Return of the Jedi together, warmly cuddled up under a blanket.

Suddenly, you were possessed by the urge to speak your mind and be as honest with him as possible. After hiding your true feelings for four years, now that you were finally given the chance to be yourself, you were feeling uncharacteristically brave.

“You know, even though I was messing around earlier, I had indeed daydreamed about marrying you back in our first year of high school. You were the first boy who ever treated me like I wasn’t the walking joke of the universe. The first who ever hung out with me not as a prank but because you actually saw me as a friend. When I started teasing you about your cute habits, I hope you know I never wished to hurt you. I just wanted to show you that I notice and appreciate every single detail about you. So, yeah, I really like you, Hwa. Have liked you for a long time.”

Seonghwa had paused the movie the second you started talking. And now that you were done sharing your thoughts, he seemed unable to say anything. The silence was a bit awkward so you interrupted it once again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable so early in our re-”

This time, he interrupted you with a kiss, pulling you into his lap, just like the good old days. You smiled into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him.

“It wasn’t silly. I appreciate you saying all that,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And for the record, I know you meant well with all the teasing. In a sense, a part of me even suspected that you liked me back. But I was also feeling a bit insecure. I kept thinking that you could do so much better than go out with dorky Kermit guy who has an obsession with tidying up, you know? That you deserved someone else. But I couldn’t allow anyone else to be that someone. So, I changed myself.”

“Maybe you did change a little. But in my heart, you’re always going to be my Frog Prince Hwa.”

“I hate you so much,” he rolled his eyes.

“Naw, you don’t.”

“Fine. I hate that you’re right.”

Things between you and Seonghwa were going great. It had been three months since you two started dating for real. He was super attentive and caring towards you. However, you were a bit bummed out since not much changed compared to his behaviour as your best friend and as your boyfriend. Sure, you did start kissing each other and occasionally making out (which wasn’t exactly a best friend activity). But there was one thing that still had not happened. And the more time passed, the more anxious you felt to bring it up.

One evening, you had miraculously convinced your parents to let you have a sleepover at Seonghwa’s place. After insisting that nothing out of the ordinary was going on between you two and even if something unusual did happen (which you highly doubted but secretly hoped for), you were going to use protection (and no, you were certainly not referring to Seonghwa’s collection of action figures who carried weapons).

As you and your boyfriend were enjoying your snacks while watching TV from the comfort of his bed, you couldn’t help but finally raise the question that had been tormenting your mind for a while now.

“S-seonghwa...do you not find me attractive?”

“What the hell are you asking me that for? Would you be my girlfriend if I didn’t find you attractive?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never dated anyone before so...I was just wondering if there’s a particular reason why we still haven’t...taken things to the next level?”

“The next level?” he chuckled. “Relationships aren’t video games. And to answer your question, the reason’s actually the exact opposite of your concerns. We haven’t done anything more than making out because I find you ridiculously attractive. And it’s taking every last inch of my self-restraint to not pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with. I just wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

“Ready? So you knew that I haven’t...with anyone...yet?” you purposefully left out some words because you were feeling incredibly shy discussing this with Seonghwa.

“Of course I knew, princess. You’re my best friend. And my girlfriend.”

“Well, that’s a relief, at least. That you’re not repulsed by my...inexperience.”

“Why would I be when we’re in the same boat?”

“We are?” you whispered in shock.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Seonghwa laughed. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since forever. Did you honestly think I would just screw anyone else?”

“Well, it’s not like you didn’t have options,” you pointed out, referring to all the potential love interests swarming around him like bees. “Unlike me.”

“Are you regretful, little girl?” he inquired, running a lazy finger across your cheek. “Jealous?”

“No, I just...want to be the best for you, sir,” you confessed nervously.

“You’re already the best I could hope for,” Seonghwa responded and kissed you hungrily, burying his hands into your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you curiously needed to know. “That you haven’t either...”

“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation?” he pointed out. “What was I supposed to say? Hi, bestie, let’s have lunch together. Oh and by the way, I’m a hopeless virgin pining over you?”

“You’re right,” you laughed. “It would have made things awkward.”

“Now, unless you have any other pressing issues, I suggest we go back to kissing.”

And without giving you the time to argue, Seonghwa devoured your lips rightaway, gently pushing you down so that your back hit the sheets. Then, he started slowly taking off your jeans. Anxiously trembling under his vigorous touch, you placed a hand against his chest. He immediately noticed and put a temporary halt to his ministrations.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he comforted you with all the seriousness in his voice.

“No, I want to, I swear,” you nodded eagerly.

“Princess, you’re literally shaking,” Seonghwa remarked.

“What’s wrong with me?” you sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect. Tell me to stop if you feel even the slightest hint of hesitation or discomfort and I will, I promise.”

“I know you would, Hwa. I trust you. But even if I’m a bit nervous, I want to do this with you. Please?”

“Well, I can’t deny you since you’re asking so nicely,” he grinned and continued where he left off. “Can I get rid of these?” Seonghwa inquired, carefully pushing your panties to the side.

“Yes, you can do anything to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled darkly and tore your underwear savagely. You couldn’t even gather the energy to complain about the ruination of your new pair, you were far too turned on by Seonghwa’s aggressive nature to care. He didn’t waste any more time, grabbing your thighs to hold them in place, he began licking your pussy with his tongue and stimulating it with his long fingers. It didn’t take long for you to start squirming beneath his touch, helplessly moaning his name. He didn’t cease his merciless movements until you reached your orgasm. When your breathing finally eased, you gathered the energy to speak again:

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before? How were you so...so...”

“So good?” Seonghwa smirked confidently and bit his lower lip. “I mean...I’ve seen videos. Read some things here and there.”

“Honestly? I think you’re a god.”

“You’ll have to stop complimenting me so much or I’ll develop a god complex,” he joked. “What do you want to do next, baby?”

“I want to suck you off,” you mumbled.

“Who taught you such dirty language?”

“Hey! I read, too,” you pouted and assuredly made your way towards the carpet next to his bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Seonghwa asked.

“Aren’t I supposed to kneel in order to pleasure you, sir?”

“Princesses never kneel,” he instructed and got up from the bed, urging you to lie down with your head hanging from the very edge of the bed and make yourself comfortable. “Open up that pretty little mouth for me, will you?”

You did as he asked obediently and even went the extra mile to stick your tongue out. Unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side, Seonghwa was quick to follow your wishes and let his cock spring free from his jeans. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his monstrous size. Seeing your worries if it will fit reflected in your eyes, he expressed his concern for you:

“Are you sure about this?”

“Please, please, I need you,” you whimpered without thinking, eager to have a taste. Without making you wait any longer, Seonghwa pushed the tip of his cock inside, gently letting your cheeks get used to the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly, he went deeper, allowing you to acquaint yourself with the stretch. When you kept blinking at him in anticipation, he realized you were ready for more and began moving faster, fucking into your mouth at a steady pace. As he neared his high, his motions became less controlled you were sucking more intently, impatient to swallow every last drop of him.

“Shit, I’m going to-” he attempted to break away, but you managed to wrap your hands at the back of his legs in order to keep his cock inside your mouth.

Seconds later, he released his cum and you began drinking it thirstily. When you had made certain that no drop was wasted, you finally let go of his legs, allowing your boyfriend’s dick to dangle freely outside of your mouth.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Seonghwa praised you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “My incredible girl.”

“I’m only yours, sir,” you mumbled, way too affected by him.

“You like this, don’t you?” he mocked you teasingly.

“Yes, sir, I want to belong to you,” you whimpered and turned around to pull him back into bed.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Seonghwa smiled fondly and took a mysterious package out of the back pocket of his jeans. Soon enough, you realized what it was, as he started lining up the condom on his cock.

“Oooh, I brought one of those, as well!” you exclaimed in surprise.

“You came here on a mission, didn’t you? Wicked little thing,” he tsked in fake disapproval.

“It’s not my fault you’re walking around like an Adonis,” you defended yourself boldly.

“You’re one to speak. Freaking goddess,” Seonghwa complimented you and slowly began unbuttoning your shirt you had somehow forgotten you were still wearing. “Is this okay?” he asked softly, always making sure you were feeling safe.

“More than okay,” you consented. Left in nothing but your baby pink bra, you unintentionally shivered at the sudden cold air surrounding you. Soon after that, Seonghwa undid the clasps and you were now only wearing your birthday suit. Feeling a bit timid, you self-consciously covered your breasts and broke eye contact with your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he pressed the palm of his hand against your cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

You weakly shook your head and somehow managed to gather the strength to look into his beautifully dark eyes once again.

“Then, let me see you, yeah?” Seonghwa nudged your hands away gently. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

You blushed at his sudden praise and allowed him to have a look. But seconds later, you were getting a bit impatient.

“Please, Hwa, I want you so much.”

“Anything for my princess,” he chuckled and coaxed his tip at your entrance slowly. When you gave him a sign he could go deeper, his movements became bolder. “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“M-more, sir, I swear I can do this,” you begged as you were beginning to unravel beneath him. As he fucked you faster into oblivion, you were no longer thinking straight and his name was the only word you were capable of uttering. Over and over again. Until you both came, blissfully lost in each other’s arms.

“Here, let me clean you up,” Seonghwa offered sweetly, picking you up with little effort and carrying you to the bathtub.

When he started shampooing your hair, rubbing body lotion into your sensitive skin and covering your neck with soft kisses, you couldn’t stop your tears from falling, touched by his infinite tenderness and by the sheer intimacy of the gesture.

“Darling, are you crying?” he questioned you upon hearing your hiccups.

“N-no,” you lied but it was useless, because it was quite obvious you were, in fact, bawling your eyes out.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet princess?” Seonghwa asked in concern.

“How...how could you think that?” you whimpered. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me. It’s just that...this is the first time I’ve felt so...special, so worthy, so...”

“Loved?” he offered the word you had been seeking for but had been too scared to utter out loud.

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed shyly. “Is it too early to say this? I’m sorry if it is but...I love you, Seonghwa.”

He simply stared at you in disbelief for a couple of seconds. This time, you were once again the one to break the deafening silence.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just...I wanted you to know. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but-”

“I love you too, baby. Of course I do,” Seonghwa reassured you. “And I’m not just saying it, I don’t feel obliged to say it. As my best friend, you know me better than anyone else. And you know I don’t do things unless I want to. So, believe me when I say this.”

“Fuck,” you uttered and only started crying harder in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re safe with me, sweetheart. I would never harm you,” he comforted you and stroked your hair lovingly, putting all your worries and self-doubts at the very back of your head.

After you were all dried up from the bath and had put on your boyfriend’s shirt while he was still in the shower, you were feeling uncharacteristically confident. Confident enough to look for something you hadn’t seen for a while. You had been wondering if he had it hanging around somewhere in his wardrobe. And after a short period of rummaging you found your treasure. The green hoodie. The Kermit hoodie. You smiled mischievously as you changed into it. It still smelled like him, you beamed. Back when he was simply your best friend, the amount of times you had fantasized about him lending it to you should have been illegal. So now that you had been promoted to his girlfriend, you simply couldn’t let such an opportunity pass you by.

Once Seonghwa got out of the shower, water droplets running down the divine skin on his bare chest, you were too busy staring at him in all his beauty and glory to notice the angry look on his face.

“How did you even find this? It was hidden so well in my wardrobe,” he scowled.

“Don’t be mad,” you pouted adorably. “I look so cute in it, right?”

“Cuter than me, that’s for sure,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and tickled your belly.

“That’s impossible, you make the cutest Kermit,” you giggled, enjoying how easy it was to get on his nerves.

“You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” he groaned.

“Never ever, my stunning Frog Prince,” you vowed and kissed him quickly, taking him by surprise. His eyes widened in shock and he seemed too flustered to continue scolding you.

“You’re in luck today. Nothing can ruin my good mood,” Seonghwa was determined.

“Great,” you grinned gleefully. “Cause from now on, I intend on making all your days filled with joy.”

“From now on?” he chuckled sarcastically. “Oh, princess, my days have been filled with nothing but joy ever since I met you.”

And indeed, both Seonghwa’s days and yours were nothing but pure happiness ever since you decided to make your relationship real. And despite his foolish statement that he no longer wanted to be your best friend, you had somehow managed to convince him that he was both your boyfriend and bestie and that was perfectly okay. As if in the blink of an eye, spring came which meant that the whole school was in nervous excitement about the upcoming prom. Generally, you weren’t the type to get overwhelmed about such a trivial topic. But now that you were dating Seonghwa, the most popular guy in the school, you couldn’t help but worry a little. What if he wanted to go with someone else? Someone equal in “status”? Your worries and insecurities further intensified when he started asking questions in a weird way.

“I need your help,” Seonghwa blurted out over lunch.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend. And he really likes this girl and wants to ask her to prom. What do you think would make her happy?”

You blinked in surprise. You knew that when people pulled the “I’m just asking for a friend” card, they were most likely talking about themselves. Was he seriously thinking of inviting another girl to prom? You tensed a little but tried really hard to remain neutral in your answer and actually make an attempt to help your bestie.

“I mean, all girls are different,” you reasoned. “If you describe her to me, maybe I’ll be able to give a more appropriate suggestion.”

“She’s a bit like you. You know, kinda bookish and-”

“It’s alright, Seonghwa, you can say it. I’m a nerd.”

“Well, yes, but...”

“It’s not exactly a slur,” you chuckled coldly.

“I know, but that’s what your bullies in middle school called you. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive,” Hwa put his hand on top of yours in a gentle, comforting manner.

“It’s fine when if you say it,” you smiled. “I won’t get offended.”

“I was going to say my friend’s crush is intelligent like you but, oh well.”

“That does sound better, I admit,” you giggled.

“She’s also a bit shy and introverted so maybe she wouldn’t enjoy a public promposal. Crowds tend to make her nervous,” Seonghwa observed.

“Seems like you didn’t need my help after all,” you scoffed playfully.

“No, I do! I still haven’t come up with an actual way to propose. I mean, for my friend.”

“Right. Your friend. Well, he can’t go wrong with some poetry under her balcony. If she has one, that is.”

“I’m pretty sure she does.” Seonghwa smirked. “Alright, thanks.”

He jumped from his seat, not even having finished his lunch.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I gotta prepare my friend’s promposal,” he shrugged and disappeared from your sight, leaving you a bit crest-fallen. If he was intending on asking you, he wouldn’t have turned to you for help, right? That would sorta ruin the element of surprise, wouldn’t it? And yet, you knew that Seonghwa wasn’t the type to care about people’s opinions and randomly ask a more popular girl out because of public demand. And he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to just date you for kicks and then ditch you at prom. Despite those very logical reasons, you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

A week later, you realized all your worries had been for nothing. It was a Sunday morning and you had just finished having breakfast with your family. You were leisurely reading on your bed when you heard some suspicious noises coming from your window. You looked up from your book and you could swear you saw tiny rocks hitting the glass! You jumped up angrily, half-expecting to find a bunch of neighbour kids pulling a prank. But you were surprised when you spotted your boyfriend standing under your balcony. Wearing his iconic green hoodie.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, though a hopeful part of you already knew the answer.

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he recited diligently in a song-like manner.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overdramatic acting but it was the effort that touched you immensely.

“And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were!” he continued sweetly.

You were so in love with this man it was insane.

“Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return,” Seonghwa kept going.

You couldn’t resist the urge to leap off the balcony. It was just the second floor so what could possibly go wrong? Other than a scraped knee and a bit of a limp. God, you were such an idiot.

“Shit, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked in terror and wrapped his arms around you.

“The excruciating pain is worth it if I get to hug you like this,” you grinned, leaning against him for support.

“Why couldn’t you just walk down the stairs like a normal person?”

“And what’s romantic about that?” you joked. “Jumping off a balcony makes for a much better story.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Only for you, my sweet Frogmeo!” you teased and kissed his cheek.

“Wait, I wasn’t finished!” Seonghwa exclaimed excitedly, not bothering to act offended about your obsession with him and that Kermit hoodie. “There was something about cheeks, I swear.”

“See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!” you helped him out dutifully.

“O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!” he finished proudly and placed his palm against your cheek.

“Only you could possibly mix Romeo and Juliet with The Frog Prince and somehow make it work,” you praised him.

“Does that mean you’ll go to prom with me?” Seonghwa tilted his head to the side adorably.

“Of course I will, baby,” you responded happily.

“Thank God, ‘cause learning that monologue drained my soul and brain,” he whistled playfully.

“You know, you had me worried there for a second,” you confessed reluctantly, because you didn’t want to keep any secrets from your doting boyfriend.

“When?” Seonghwa asked in confusion.

“Lunchtime. A week ago. When you asked me for advice. I thought that...”

“That I would ask someone else?” he correctly guessed your suspicions. And you nodded. “Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?”

“No, you’re perfect. In fact, too perfect. It makes me feel like I don’t deserve you.”

Seonghwa smiled sadly and kissed the top of your head. But he wasn’t angry with you. Just wanted to erase those silly thoughts from your mind.

“You deserve so much more, princess. But I’ll try my best to give you all I can.”

“As will I,” you promised and mischievously pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie, making his face squished adorably.

“If this is the best you’re capable of, I dread to see your worst,” he shook his head in amusement.

“Prince Frogmeo and the Nerdy Princess,” you sighed wistfully. “That would make a hell of a fairy tale, wouldn’t it?”

“How about Kermit the Frog whoops the Princess’s ass for being a brat?” Seonghwa threatened jokingly.

“You know what? I wouldn’t say no to that,” you giggled and started running away from him. “If you catch me first!”

Prom night arrived and despite all the preparations and excitements around it, it was nothing special in itself. What made it special, however, were the moments you spent with Seonghwa. Just dancing and talking seemed to be enough to make your heart leap with joy. And the smile never left your face the entire night.

“School’s really ending, huh?” you spoke aloud without thinking, while you were swaying slightly to the music in your boyfriend’s arms.

“This isn’t the end of us. We’ll go to college, we’ll grow up. The best is yet to come, darling.”

“You know what I meant,” you replied, a hint of sadness tinging your tone. “In college, I’ll study Literature, you’ll study Music. We’ll no longer be able to sit next to each other in class or exchange notes or hold hands under the desk.”

“We’ll do all sorts of other things,” Seonghwa responded cheerfully, trying to think positive. “We’ll have study dates in college, we’ll visit new restaurants and make more memories together. Just because high school is over, doesn’t mean we are. I’m not giving up on my best friend ever.”

“Your girlfriend,” you corrected him playfully.

“My best friend,” he repeated. “You were right. Being in love with each other doesn’t nullify our friendship. Both are equally important to me. You are the most important to me.”

“God, Hwa, how can you say such things so easily?”

“Is your heart fluttering?” your boyfriend and best friend teased you, swirling you around while dancing. You were met with his beautiful dark gaze again as he murmured: “Hi, princess.”

“H-hi, S-seonghwa,” you chuckled in response.

And you were finally home.

The End

#ateez #seonghwa #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #ateez fluff #seonghwa fluff #ateez fic #seonghwa fic #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez imagines #seonghwa angst #writing

323 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

you’re all that i need, underneath the tree

characters: dabi, shigaraki tomura

genre: tooth-rotting fluff with a sprinkle of angst

notes: aaah okay! set in the break my bones but act as my spine universe, between part one and part two but after dabi’s apology!! poor dabi gets dragged out with the happy couple to go hunting for the perfect christmas tree :) | title credit: underneath the tree by kelly clarkson

warnings: pining, daddy kink (without the kinkiness), generally toxic relationships

words: 3.3k

synopsis:

And so what if you’re more excited than Tomura is about his agreeing to come, even though it was Tomura who asked for his assistance; so what if it makes his chest swell with that irritatingly tingling sensation, the one that seeps into his veins and shoots through the rest of his body, the one that makes him feel like he’s buzzing. What’s it matter, anyway?

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

Snow crunches under his heavy boots as he trudges along behind you, staring at the back of your head with a glare so vicious, so ferocious it could melt platinum.

Dabi hates Christmas.

Smoke from a large bonfire, lined by families—good looking couples with tiny carbon copies of themselves, gloved hands tenderly cupping hot chocolate as the children chatter animatedly, little squeals of laughter overlapping the indistinct noise—blows into his face and he chokes on it a bit, the tiny glowing embers it carries with it through the air burning his eyes.

Dabi hates Christmas.

He’s only coming because Tomura’s his fucking boss, he had told you curtly when you swiveled around in the front seat of the Maybach to express your excitement to him, forcing his eyes to stay on the white leather beneath him, unable to bear the way he’s sure your face is falling at his sharp words. He hates Christmas.

But Tomura had snorted a little to himself the moment the words left Dabi’s lips, because God, what a fucking lie. He doesn’t voice the thought, but he doesn’t need to—it’s clear in his ruby eyes as they meet sapphire through the rearview mirror, an amused little smirk present on his scarred lips as he raises an eyebrow in mocking question.

Yeah. Alright, fine. He’s a fucking liar, so what? Yeah, alright, so maybe he’s only here because of you, because he knows that if he had refused, the entire trip would’ve been ruined, and he couldn’t have that on his conscious, couldn’t handle that on his conscious.

It’s his turn to snort at himself, rolling his eyes. What a pathetic excuse for a man. It’s a real funny joke, though; a man who can kill indiscriminately, who can kill delightfully, without batting a fucking eye as bits of skull and brain splatter on the toe of his boot, can’t handle the thought of even one more of your salty tears staining his soul.

The answer, as far as he’s concerned, is simple.

It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. It never will.

❅ ❅ ❅

This place is way too extravagant for a Christmas Tree farm, Dabi mutters to himself as he trails behind you, seething azure darting around the venue with a deep scowl, taking note of the large stone building that doubles as a gift shop and a café—all baked goods made on the premises and handcrafted with love, of course—with crystal windows that gleam in the weak afternoon sunlight and gentle curls of smoke escaping its chimney. Scattered bonfires blaze among the grounds, each with a group of Christmas tree hunters arranged in a loose circle around it, keeping warm and roasting marshmallows. The sticky sweet scent drifts through the air, Dabi wrinkling his nose as it hits him. That soft clop-clop of horseshoes against matted snow mingles with the sound of classic Christmas music as white and brown horses pull intricate wooden sleighs around the area.

It all makes him fucking sick. God, Dabi hates Christmas.

“Oh my gosh!” you’re gushing as you cling to Tomura. “Daddy, it’s so pretty,”

The two of you are attracting the gazes of everyone in the immediate vicinity, Dabi hunching in further on himself, trying to bury his face in the neck of his jacket. Really, he should be used to this by now. The pair of you are always a sight to be seen, with you in your little dresses—crushed black velvet this time, with a high neckline and a dainty satin ribbon tied around your ribs in a tiny, neat bow—and black trench coat, hem ending just above your knees; and Tomura in his vibrant red coat, teasingly obscuring his fitted black trousers—tailored specifically for him, of course—and black cashmere turtleneck.

It makes the two of you look like you just stepped out of the Christmas edition of a fucking high fashion catalogue. It makes Dabi feel ratty and underdressed—makes everyone around you feel ratty and underdressed, honestly—in his faded black jeans and big combat boots.

You’ve wandered off a little further ahead now, eyes glittering and bright as they soak everything in, hands clasped adoringly against your chest.

“Daddy!” you gasp suddenly, turning back to look at Tomura, eyes wide and sparkling, catching in the soft yellow glow of nearby Christmas lights. “They’re giving out hot chocolate!”

“Yes, they are, princess,” Tomura smiles, eyes softening as he gazes at you, now halted a few feet ahead of him, his hands outfitted in leather gloves clasped loosely behind his back as he strolls.

“Can I go get some?” you bounce a little on the balls of your feet as he meets you.

“Of course you can, baby,”

“Thanks! I—Do you want some, too?”

“Sure,” Tomura shrugs amicably. “Go wait in line, Daddy will be there in a moment,”

Your smile falls a little—just a hint, really, the corners of your lips twitching, a miniscule action Dabi hates that he notices—as your eyes flit between your Daddy and him, blinking twice, brow wrinkling in the cutest way. Dabi grits his teeth, hands balling into fists as he fights the itch, the urge, to reach out and smooth your skin out again. Pathetic. He’s fucking pathetic.

“Um, o-okay,”

Tomura nods encouragingly, then quirks his head towards the ever-growing lineup, as if to say get going! You obey immediately, scampering off with a cute little affirmative yelp. Dabi instantly moves to follow you, is so accustomed to having you glued to his side that watching skip off on your own like that evokes a thick panic in his chest, rising way too quickly in his throat, his mouth opening to call your name, to scold you for running off as he’s done so many times before.

“Wait,” Tomura mutters, a hand curling tightly around Dabi’s bicep, his voice low, dangerous. Brow furrowing, Dabi looks from the hand wrapped around him, to the face of its owner, and back to you again.

“Look at me,” Tomura snaps, Dabi’s tongue running along the front of his teeth as he sucks on them, keeping the insults brewing in his mouth from escaping. Scarlet eyes search his face, slowly, calmly, but every second you’re away from him has Dabi’s heart pounding harder and harder, powerless to stop his eyes from worriedly glancing your way again, only brought back to his boss’ face by a harsh squeeze around his bicep.

Tomura speaks at an unhurried pace, voice even and controlled, annunciating each word with purpose in an effort to beat them into Dabi’s scattered brain.

“Do not upset her today, or I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking nose. She’s been looking forward to this for weeks—I had to pull teeth to get this day off,”

And Dabi hates that, even in the middle of a humiliating, demeaning scolding from his boss, he can’t keep his eyes from darting towards you again, scanning the line you’re currently squished in for any potential threats, instinctual and automatic at this point, a habit. Tomura pulls on his arm a little, directing Dabi’s stare back to him again.

And he knows, goddamn it, he knows how excited you’ve been for this, how important this stupid little Christmas tree hunt is to you, because it’s all you’ve been able to babble about for fucking days now.

“Take whatever the hell you need to, to be fucking nice, you hear me?”

But he nods anyway, carves false derision into his face as his eyebrows furrow and his lips tug down, ripping his arm from Tomura’s grasp. “Yeah. Got it.”

His tone is clipped, and he doesn’t miss the way Tomura’s jaw clenches once with the grinding of his molars, smirking a little as his head tilts, crimson eyes regarding Dabi in a way that makes him feel like shivering, in a way that makes him feel exposed, naked, unprotected.

“You better.”

❅ ❅ ❅

“Here, Dabi!”

A jolt runs down his spine at the sound of your voice saying his name, and he turns towards you, brow knitting slightly as he’s met with a paper cup, held out to him between your two mitten-clad hands, your own drink secured precariously between your ribs and the crook of your elbow.

“What’s this?”

And he fucking hates the way his voice trembles, the way that stupid warmth starts blooming in his chest again, the way it does any time you do something small for him, any time you physically prove that you were thinking of him, too. Clearing his throat, he stares at the beverage, pointedly avoiding your eyes.

“I got you one, too,” you explain simply, pushing the streaming drink at him a little more, rich notes of chocolate and cream wafting over him, urging him to retrieve it from your tiny hands. “Take it,”

He has half a mind to lie, to tell you that he hates chocolate even though his mouth is watering, even though he knows you know he loves it, to knock the cup from your hands and watch as the hot liquid eats through the snow like a disease, melting it into nothing.

“Thanks,” he grumbles instead, looking away as he grabs it from your outstretched hands.

Tomura returns a moment later, a large red saw in his clutch. “All ready to go Christmas tree hunting, princess?”

❅ ❅ ❅

Dabi will always be amazed by your ability to make everyone around you fall absolutely, irrevocably, head over heels in love with you in mere moments, cobalt eyes trained on the old man holding the horses’ reins—a wide, sincere smile stretched across his face, hazel eyes positively gleaming as they gaze down at you from his spot atop the sleigh—asking you if you’d like to feed the animals, your knuckles gently caressing their velvety noses.

Maybe later, Tomura promises you when you glance back at him, whispering “Can I, Daddy?”, reminding you that there’s only a few hours of sunlight left, and if you’re on a mission to find the perfect Christmas tree, you best start soon.

Sat in between Dabi and yourself in the tiny oak sleigh, Tomura pulls a tattered, folded piece of paper from his pocket, reciting your criteria for The Perfect Christmas Tree.

The Perfect Christmas Tree, the paper states, must encompass the four elements listed below:

It has to be the perfect mixture of forest green with those pretty blue undertones—nothing too blue or powdery!

It has to smell good but not too strong—if it’s too strong, it makes you nauseous

It has to be full—you know, not one of those Charlie Brown trees that are all branches and no body, or one of those thin tall trees—but not too bushy! Not so fat that the needles obscure the lights and ornaments

It has to be perfectly symmetrical and triangular, not lopsided or wonky

Dabi plays stupid, acts as if he doesn’t have that whole list memorized back to front, acts as if he couldn’t regurgitate it in his sleep, like he didn’t sit down with you at the breakfast bar and help you make it, even though it’s in his handwriting.

❅ ❅ ❅

Every tree is beginning to look the same to him. The three of you have been wandering through these fields for just over an hour and a half now, and Dabi’s positive he’s about to lose all ten of his toes to frostbite.

“We are not leaving until we find the perfect tree, damn it!” Tomura spits, ruby eyes practically glowing as they fly to Dabi’s face.

“Right, right,” Dabi grumbles to himself, nodding his head a little and tucking his gloved hands under his armpits in an attempt to at least save his fingers.

But you do eventually find it, after Dabi complains about dying from hypothermia for the third time; a massive blue spruce that isn’t too blue, that smells good but not too strong, that is full but not bushy, and that tapers off into a perfect triangle—wide at the bottom and coming to a point at the top, perfectly symmetrical.

Tomura glances over his shoulder at you after he’s finished brushing off all of the snow from the tree’s branches, so you can examine it fully. “Well? Is this the one, baby?”

And the way your eyes absolutely dazzle as you gaze at it, a large, brilliant smile splitting your face as the most precious giggles hitch in your throat, head nodding in cute little motions—well, God, that makes it all worth it. In that moment, Dabi’s sure he’d endure this cold a thousand times over, would lose all of his fingers and all of his toes, just to experience that look of pure, innocent happiness on your face once again.

“Yes, Daddy! It’s perfect,”

❅ ❅ ❅

Even baled, this tree is a giant pain in the ass to get up to the penthouse. It takes the men a solid half hour to figure out a way to fit the tree into the elevator, gleaming droplets of sweat dripping down their faces, tufts of hair clinging to their cheeks.

“Is it still—oh, for fuck’s sake—the perfect tree?” Dabi hisses out as the three of you press yourselves against the monstrous tree, just barely stuffing yourselves into the elevator, an escaped branch digging into his cheek.

“Yes,” you snicker.

“Yes,” Tomura echoes. “Stop being a brat, Dabi,”

“I—Me? Me!” Dabi sputters, at a loss for words. Him, a brat? After everything he just did for you, Tomura’s perfect little princess?

“Yes, you,” you giggle, knocking your shoulder playfully against his bicep. Any rebuttal gets lodged in his throat as he gazes down at you, sapphire eyes softening as they meet yours, shining with mirth, unable to tame the smile tugging at your lips.

He hasn’t seen you this happy in a long time. An ache takes root at the very core of his body, agony radiating throughout his limbs as he’s hit with the dim realization that Tomura’s increasing absence affects you a lot more than he originally thought—that you miss him more than you let on—and the ache in his chest pulses, though he is unable to discern whether it pulses for you, or for him.

It takes nearly another thirty minutes to get the tree safely secured in its stand before slowly cutting through the netted baling and removing it, allowing the tree’s branches to fan out.

Isaac is immediately curious, sitting back on his hind legs and gnawing on one of the branches for a moment before leaping into the tree, lithe body curving through the boughs as he burrows his way to the trunk in the center, digging his little claws into it as you cry out his name in alarm.

“Here, I’ll get him,” Dabi offers, still kneeling on the floor from fastening the screws on the stand.

A little chuckle falls from his lips as he reaches between the branches, gathering the kitten in one hand.

“What do you think you’re doin’ in there, little guy,” he asks as he pulls Isaac from the tree, little paws swiping at the needles, trying to catch them as Dabi drags him out.

“Silly kitty,” you scold as Dabi places him gently on the hardwood. “You aren’t an ornament!”

And Dabi can’t help the genuine laugh that gets caught in his chest, gazing up at you with a fond shake of his head. “He’s gonna be real trouble around this thing, that’s for sure,”

Tomura returns then with three large boxes full of expensive, glittering ornaments in his arms, grumbling about how he had to dig through one of the spare closets to find them and dropping them unceremoniously by the tree, the items delicately clinking together.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on his chest, beginning to restrict his breathing, and Dabi takes this as his cue to depart, because truthfully, the last thing he wants right now is to have to witness you being all mushy and domestic with Tomura. Wordlessly, he heads towards the front door, already craving the soft embrace of his lush bed, eager for the bliss unconsciousness undoubtedly brings with it.

“Dabi?”

Your voice is so small, so fragile, sounds almost hurt, his hand freezing on the handle, shoulders tensing.

“You’re not staying?”

He stares directly ahead, gaze searing into the door as his body goes rigid. Please, he wants to beg, don’t start, not now, not when he knows he won’t be able to resist you.

But his name falls from your lips again, the sound so beautiful, so heartbreaking, and it pulls a deep sigh from his chest. He has no control, not an ounce of authority as his body instinctually turns towards you, the voracious need to comfort you outweighing the full, throbbing pang it inspires.

And, Christ, you look so fucking cute in your little opaque tights with fluffy, woolen socks pulled over them, clinging to your calves with cute little reindeer sown into them, toes pointed inward and overlapping just a little as you stare at him with the sweetest pout.

“Wait,” Tomura smirks, chucking a little. “You were going to leave me alone with this one, when she’s all hopped up on Christmas joy like this?”

Dabi stares at his boss, blinking rapidly, lips parting in anticipation of the words that never come.

“There’s no way I could handle her by myself today,” Tomura continues after a beat, crimson eyes shining in the warm light. “She’s got enough Christmas spirit for all three of us, and then some,”

“Daddy!” the word escapes your lips in a playful little squeal, giggles bubbling up in your throat as Tomura wraps an arm around you, pulling you against his side and nuzzling his nose against your neck. “We could really use your help,” you tell him softly, almost gently, still leaving that option for him to escape, should he choose to do so.

His heart’s thudding against his ribs as he clears his throat, tongue darting out to lick his lips, words leaving his mouth sluggishly, yet at an uneven pace, voice quivering ever so slightly.

“I-I guess I could…Stay, to help you guys decorate the tree—for a little. I mean, it is a fucking monster,”

“Ah, yay!” you beam at him, clapping your hands excitedly. “Daddy, now that Dabi’s staying, can we make cookies?”

“Sweets before dinner, princess?”

“Pretty please?” you whimper, gazing up at him with the very definition of puppy-dog eyes. “I promise I’ll eat all my veggies, even the funky looking ones—” Tomura snorts, interrupting you, but you barrel on. “—I will, I swear!”

And, really, Tomura’s powerless to resist you, to deny you, left absolutely defenceless when you’re batting your eyelashes up at him like that, voice syrupy and sweet as little fingers cling to his shirtsleeve. Dabi doesn’t blame him—your pout should be registered as a lethal weapon.

Tomura goes to call for his personal chef, but you cut him off, wrinkling your nose and shaking your head.

“No, not the fancy ones,” you say as if it’s obvious. “I wanna make the store-bought ones! Y’know, the ones in the tube—”

“The ones that you begged our personal grocery shopper to smuggle in for you?” Tomura raises an eyebrow, and you finally have the decency to look sheepish, nodding your head. “Those ones?”

“Yes! Yes, please, those ones,” you respond eagerly, waiting for that final nod from Tomura before scampering off towards the kitchen, Tomura’s voice calling after you as he warns you to be careful with the scissors!

Yeah, alright, Dabi thinks as the smell of cheap sugar cookies washes over him, nimble fingers hanging another crystal bulb on the tree while you scold Tomura for placing too many ornaments of the same colour in one spot, an involuntary grin spreading across his cheeks as that inexplicable warmth blossoms in his chest again. So maybe Christmas isn’t that bad after all.

#dabi x reader #dabi fluff #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fluff #dabi #shigaraki tomura #WAAAAAH SURPRISE ehehe #this is just something small n quick u know but i wanted to write some cute christmassy stuff for the bmb universe too!!#figured it would be nice to give u guys some old fashioned fluff amidst all that touya angst <33

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ravenvsfox · 3 years

Text

I simply have to write down my thoughts for anything to have meaning, so here are my awtwb opinions in no particular order (spoilers ahead!!!):

- the break up absolutely needed to happen, and also frankly it was very tasty

- "you're crying from simon/baz?" "the 'we’re not made of pieces that come apart' got to me"

- the last ditch effort sentimentality on baz’s part and ill-conceived sacrifice on simon’s........ such a lovely lil piece of angst. hurt stokes honesty and vice versa

- why did they get back together literally the next day though. it was like watching someone tear down an old condemned building and then OVERNIGHT an identical building has been rebuilt in its place. the dust hadn’t even settled yet. can we sit in it for like a minute.

- it definitely IS in character for simon to look at the emotional mess he just made and be like wait. I hate this actually. I’m immediately going to fix it despite the fact that I haven’t thought it through and have no plan :)

- this sure is a horny book huh

- actually very tonally appropriate that simon sees intimacy as too much to possibly grapple with. sex is easy when it's prescribed, and he's not really invested in it, but when he wants things very very badly he knows he can never truly have them. he can only host power or love or acceptance for a while before it's taken away.

- (something something orphan something something instability/insatiability)

- he always used to have one clear path, and now he can’t tease apart all his options. he wants everything or nothing. no embarrassing in-betweens, no gentle half-touches, no one foot in and one foot out of the magickal world

- also he wants to be manhandled and told what to do and bitten and consumed. sub behaviour

- every minor character in this book rules. ent bartender, butch legend niamh, cake-maker ruth, tracksuit fox. demon bear lady please wife me.

- sapphics kissing over the birthing juices of a fresh goat? come ON

- I think it’s fitting that goatherder agatha found her own productive, unconventional niche just outside of the place where she felt so constricted and misunderstood. like she wandered out of her ivory tower and found all of these sprawling open pastures

- shepard is so supremely & unbelievably likeable. so delighted and delightful. a mover and a shaker and a monsterfucker. spin-off when

- penny & shepard were also such pleasing complementary colours, and I like that they were both highly self-assured (in contrast w baz/simon's insecurity) and highly impressed with one another

- there’s a lot of awkward pacing in this book, which does feel (possibly by accident) like a testament to the non-linear, unexpected way that people deal with trauma. like it’s realistic that emotional pitfalls and relationship turmoil will always clumsily insert themselves into your “narrative,” you know?

- the demon bride storyline felt like a (super fun) short story nested within the book rather than an important element of the overarching plot itself

- some of the interpersonal groundwork laid in wayward son definitely paid off, but there were also a lot of superfluous plot points, and not a lot of fall-out/consequences? no real stakes (pun intended)

- so much good relationship stuff though! the communication is bantery and productive and tender and sometimes uncomfortable. it all feels like growing pains

- it’s so clear that simon’s innate sense of self is completely hollow; he’s petrified of self-identifying (and thus committing to a label which might turn out to be false again), and he’s afraid of smothering people with how much he wants and relies on them so he ghosts them instead

- the way he self-sabotages just for the rush of fixing things afterwards…. baby let me study you

- he constantly kind of has to reassure himself that he’s normal and also that he’s a Normal (this is what regular people do. this is what healthy affection looks like. And also—I have to remember that I don’t have or deserve magic. I’m not the person I thought I was.)

- he was the chosen one, and it turned out to be fake. and now he’s another kind of chosen one—chosen by Baz, by his friends, and later by the Salisburys, but he doesn’t really trust the sensation of being important to people anymore. he thinks that everything good he has or will ever have has been stolen or coerced somehow, and too much feeling is always inevitably going to be followed by total devastation. doesn’t that make you insane

- the excalibur thing was such a neat little piece of world-building (ancestral magic swords? yes ma’am) although I definitely expected agatha to have a hand in that reveal

- wings y/n?????

- no real resolution for the magic immunity. okie dokie

- I wanted to linger with that mage paternity reveal a bit longer. the upgrade simon’s daddy issues just received…… astronomical

- I liked that penny and simon had a little bit of independence from one another actually, because simon had to think through his problems like a Normal, and penny had to fact check herself when no one was nodding benignly along with all of her ideas. growth!

- a society of chosen ones? cult-leader villain obsessed with empty symbolism? mages seduced not by the promise of power but of acceptance and healing? delicioso

- the climax of this book lasted about twelve seconds, but I enjoyed the continued chapel motif, and the fact that every villain ends up being a shade of simon snow

- the conclusion for daphne, prof. bunce, etc, wasn’t super fulfilling, I was half-expecting a reveal that they were all under some kind of thrall, but since they were just like.. insecure and ostracized by their community, I wanted a denouement where their respective spouses meet them where they’re at, and the world of mages pledges some kind of fundamental change in attitudes/policies towards differing magickal proficiency. maybe! idk!

- so much pop culture in this book. (the yeets…… the vibe checks…..) this one’s going to age like milk, ladies

- it’s cute though! I like a book that is a little parcel of the time that it was made, and I like how un-embarrassed it is of itself

- I love the way all three couples had a really clear, “oh this is what it’s supposed to feel like” moment—the transformative potential of being loved the way you want and deserve to be loved

- so many fab individual moments that I'll think about for the rest of my life, and overall so indulgent and fun to read, but a little messy and out of balance for the final book of a trilogy. the end ✌️

#awtwb #awtwb spoilers #the simon snow trilogy #carry on #meta #this is long and no one asked for it :)

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Note

*Cackling* Now rank your ot3's!

*long sigh*

SECTION 1:

Yes, there are sections, this is a list of 20 things. I like to be organized. These ones I seek out. I like them. I actively enjoy them on purpose.

1. Roloceit: My BOYS. Are these my 3 favorites? perhaps. You can't prove anything (you sure can, just look at my goddamn Ao3). Something about the dynamics here is just...so good for me? The combination of fluff/angst/multi-talented braincells is wonderful. I need these three to watch a documentary and tear it to absolute pieces. Also they would be so good at...actually having methods of supporting each other??? I love them.

2. Analogince: in the same vein, the SNARK. THE SASS. THE GROUPCHAT THAT WE ALL KNOW EXISTS THAT IS SOO OVERLOADED WITH SALT THAT IT'S A DEHYDRATION RISK. Also healthy communication??? supportive signifs??? good shit

3. Anxcietmus: The Dark Sides™. Again, I think these three just get each other. That means great fluff and great angst possibilities ABOUND and especially when it comes to being a menace in the rest of the mindscape. Yes. Good. Have fun.

4. Intruloceit: Someone please make this nerd take a fucking break for once. The chaos of leading what you THINK is a stuck-up buttoned-up nerd only to feel such an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror at discovering a TRUE mad scientist. Yes. Logan deserves to go ape-shit. Let him.

5. Analoceit: Did someone ask for some amused gay judgement? You got the whole scale here, Distinguished, Functional, and Disaster. They don't need the group chat because they can do it with just a look. Perfect. Wonderful.

6. Intruloxiety: slightly less snark, which is why it's ranked lower, but I don't think it would be any less supportive. Between the three of them I think they'd have a conversation about boundaries right up front and constantly be checking in with each other. Which is good!! Please do this!!

7. Loroyality (am i making up some of these names as I go? yes): The Light Sides™! The reason this is ranked lower is because I think they've got some in-canon struggles that would take some time and effort (from errybody) to sort out before I would consider this relationship healthy, but after that? Forget it. We vomiting sushine and rainbows and our teeth hurt from how sweet they are. I have faith in them.

8. Royaliceit: *sniff sniff* did someone say ANGST??? This is the only one I put up here that I mainly look for to get angst because BOY HOWDY. Especially post-POF? Roman you poor thing why do I project so strongly onto you, my god. This is a MESS and they need to do WORK to FIX IT but it's all about the misunderstanding and the healing and oh my god please someone tell Roman his worth is not based on how well his work is received please. Also if you're like me and you subscribe to the headcanon that the last time Patton and Janus agreed on something it was to stay in the closet as long as possible...*choo choo bitches angst town here we come*

SECTION 2:

These ones I don't actively seek out but you know?? For a headcanon post? They seem pretty chill. Haven't devoted a lot of brainpower to 'em, just think they're neat.

9. Moloceit (my keyboard is so confused you guys): Now THIS. THIS is the obnoxious trio of philosophy majors that ALWAYS hog the good library table. Someone will say ONE GODDAMN thing and they'll be talking about ontology and subjectivity for hours. It's impossible to tell whether or not they're being serious when they do it. As a most-definitely-not-a-philosophy-student, no. I mean, yes but no.

10. Anaroceit: you know those fucking divas that strut into the mall like they own the goddamn place? These bastards. They are the Heathers (except actually decent people) and you will not get between them and their purchases. If you come after one of them the other will overprotective the fuck out of them and rip you to shreds. You might be worried sometimes that they're hurting each other but they do actually talk about their boundaries. solid 7/10.

11. Analogicality: (whoa, we're halfway there...): These three just seem like they'd be super domestic. Not that it wouldn't also be adorable, but just kinda...routine? Virgil doesn't like new shit, Logan likes a schedule, and Patton enjoys doing things together in 'traditions.' Some spice but they're all fairly level-headed so...the most they get is screaming out songs with the windows down (WHOA LIVIN' ON A PRAYER)

12: Intrulogicality: You know those scenarios where you got Person A who runs headlong into crazy bullshit, Person B who likes to pretend they're not as into the crazy bullshit as Person A but is, and Person C who gets dragged into shit? There you go.

13: Anxmoceit: I think once they all sat down and had a conversation they might actually be decent??? But I can't stop seeing Patton and Janus coparenting Virgil so it stays platonic in my head. (listen i don't kinkshame but i am aroace, that does limit me a bit when it comes to this bag of nonsense)

14. Intrumoceit: Again, LONG conversation, but it's better to have one crazy dumbass whom you both love but please stop giving up heart attacks every two seconds bb we can't deal with these palpitations. I think this would require SO much work on Patton's end to make this healthy that I can't see it very clearly.

15. Intrumoxiety: This one I put down here because while Janus isn't the best at being straightforward (or straight) he DOES understand himself enough to actually have a productive conversation when he has to. I think Virgil would be too caught up between the dynamic of Patton and Remus for it to be healthy for him, especially at the beginning. It would end up dumping too much of the conflict resolution into his court and uh...no. No thanks. Do I think they COULD make it work? Yes, of course, but I wouldn't seek it out.

16. Anaroyality: Uhhh yeah they exist. Y'all gotta do some work to establish good boundaries but yeah, I think you could do it. Have a makeup day where everybody just fucks shit UP at a Sephora or an Ulta and try crazy looks on each other. You could do it. I believe in you.

SECTION 3:

These are the ones I will actively avoid, more often than not. If they're not handled carefully--which is not the responsibility of other creators, I take full blame, this is just how I personally interpret them--they can squick me out. The ones with Roman and Remus are down here, and as a disclaimer, this isn't because I view poly relationships where not all parties are dating each other as inherently inferior, not at all. I just think that within a relationship where both Roman and Remus are dating the same person, that has the potential to go REAL bad REAL quick.

17. Intrulogince: Do I want to see Roman and Remus playfully competing to win the favor of our favorite nerd? yes. Do I think it would end up aggravating the rivalry they already had to really bad places? Also yes. Either with Roman backing off and internalizing the idea that he's not good enough or by exploding on both of them. It's a bad time. No. That being said, I have seen things where Logan is just spoiled by incredible things made in the Imagination and those are very sweet. a good time.

18. Intruprinxiety (that looks so weird when it's spelled out, oh my god it sounded so much better in my head): Again, exacerbating a pre-existing rivalry, oh dear me, and this time poor Virgil's caught in the middle? a mess. There is also the potential for them to be childhood friends to lovers which would be very sweet but the overlap with all of their combined histories are...a lot of baggage. Like so much.

19. Intruroceit: The only way I can see this happening is Roman's inadequacy issues and abandonment issues going THROUGH THE FUCKING ROOF and it would force Remus into being a pseudo-therapist for them and Janus your habit of messing with Roman needs to gtfo right the fuck now.

20. Intruroyality: is anyone surprised that this one is my least favorite? Between the squicks I get from Patton as a character, the relationship between Patton and both of the twins in canon, and how much baggage Roman and Remus have...no. Absolutely not. I have horrible memories of some very toxic relationships that I can absolutely see here and no.

*phew* that was a long one. you're welcome.

EDIT: thank you @shinekittenace for names seriously this post is a mess

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #i do have opinions on the matter

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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Mmmm'kay, I'm loving this arranged marriage au, the possibilities are endless. But... imagine if once they got married and they went to their shared home for the first time and they found only one bed? The tension. And then they're both like, "I don't wear a shirt to bed..." 😂

Yeah anon, it really grew on me too. It was going to be angstier as I was writing, and then I realized, wait, this has so much potential, so I softened it up a bit.

So “there was only one bed” in the “arranged marriage au”, huh, got it.

Here’s the first part

cw and tags: angst, trust issues, double entendre noises, naked cuddling, pining, sleep deprived Runaan has his own opinions, light bdsm but for angst reasons, biting, falling asleep on someone

____________________________

Runaan stalked in through the tree house door ahead of Ethari, dropping his flower crown carelessly atop a side table. Ethari slowed to catch it from sliding to the floor, hanging them both on pretty silver hooks set into the wall. The hooks were meant to hold the flower crowns as they dried and became a nostalgic reminder of Moonshadows’ vowing night, a permanent decoration to be seen by all who entered the home. Every vowed household had one.

Ethari stilled as Runaan’s footsteps retreated up the curved staircase and faded from earshot. He ran a soft fingertip along the edge of a lunabloom petal and felt a heaviness settle on his shoulders.

“My vowing night,” he murmured, so softly that only the flowers could hear him. “I imagined it very differently when I was a wee lad. With more kissing, for sure. I barely got any--”

A soft cough outside the door perked his ears with alarm. He whipped the door back open and stared out at a sheepish Lain.

“Hey, bro.” The rangy assassin straightened up from a crouch near the door’s crack and slouched easily against the tree’s thick bark. “How’s things? Need anything before you two tuck in for the night?”

Tucking in doesn’t seem to be on Runaan’s to-do list, I’m afraid. But Lain’s smirk told Ethari that he might be missing something. “Lain, what are you doing?”

“Vowing vigil, bro. Assassin thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

Ethari’s feet hurt from hours of dancing beneath the full moon’s light, and he was starving and exhausted. But for the sake of his brand new husband, he pasted on a smile and asked curiously, “Maybe you could explain it to me? ...Bro?”

Lain blinked, and then a broad grin sidled across his face and decided that it liked it there. “Sure, bro. Assassins have each others’ backs, yeah? No matter what. When one of us falters from injury or falls ill, the others gather around to keep them safe. When one of us lets his guard down, we gather, too, and hold ours high.”

Ethari squinted in puzzlement, not following Lain’s secret assassin lingo.

Lain flicked his gaze up toward the various branches overhead, belonging to half a dozen different trees. “Runaan’s our leader now. But he’s gonna let his guard down tonight, for you. And we’ll hold vigil to defend him while he does it. No matter how many times he does it,” Lain added, with a giant, cheesy wink.

Despite Lain’s suggestive joke, Ethari’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and his tummy miserably curled in on itself. He recalled Runaan’s clipped words on the day they’d finalized their betrothal: “Don’t you dare kiss me again. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.” Runaan wouldn’t be letting his guard down, in any respect, today. Or possibly ever.

“Thank you for your courtesy,” the woeful craftsman managed, before turning away and closing the door in Lain’s face.

His feet found the stairs, and he trudged upward with a heavy heart, just wanting to find a place to crash and sleep. High narrow ceilings that slotted up through organic gaps in the tree gathered darkness overhead, winking with mushroom light and the odd moonfly. Delicately carved walls and living lattice windows showed him various rooms along the side of the stairwell that wound upward around the heart of the tree itself.

This place is beautiful... I’ll have to explore later, after I catch some sleep. Where is the bedroom in here, anyway? Ah, here-

He came to an abrupt stop outside a graceful wooden arch twined with soft glowing vines and nearly bumped right into Runaan, who was swiftly exiting the bedroom with an armful of blankets--as well as cheeks the color of moonberries. Their eyes met--Ethari’s seeking, Runaan’s vulnerable, darting away. Ethari glanced over Runaan’s shoulder, seeking the source of his seeming distress, but saw only a spacious, neat, empty room behind him.

“Where are you going?” he asked Runaan.

Runaan studied the blankets he held, then raised a wry gaze to Ethari’s face. “There is only one bed here. I will sleep elsewhere.” He moved to slip past Ethari into the hallway.

Ethari’s hands clutched at Runaan’s shoulders. “No, you can’t do that.”

Runaan’s gaze was cold. “Take your hands off me.”

Ethari jerked his hands back as if they’d been burned. “Sorry. I only meant that... the assassins are watching the tree house tonight, and they’d know that you... that we didn’t... uhh...”

Runaan’s eyes widened and his gaze sliced toward the nearest outer wall, looking vulnerable, hunted even. Ethari’s heart clenched at the sight. Had the assassins’ supposed vigil slipped his mind? Was it just a prank Lain was pulling?

“That’s... really a thing, then?” he asked.

The quirked frown that snapped into place on Runaan’s face seemed to indicate that it was.

“It seems we’re trapped in here until moonrise,” Runaan grated.

Wow, that makes me feel great. Thanks for that. Ethari let his shoulders slump as Runaan spun and retreated deeper into the bedroom.

The assassin plopped his blankets on the foot of the broad bed. Ethari approached and stood beside him at a safe distance, studying it analytically. Runaan shot him a side glance and opened his mouth sharply, but Ethari spoke first. “No one needs to sleep on the floor. Look at this bed. It’s enormous. Five elves could sleep here and not even touch.”

“You exaggerate. I only see room for three.”

“Oh, should I go invite Lain to sleep between us, then?” Ethari teased, before he really grasped the words he just said.

Runaan rounded on him. “Is this funny to you? Have you no respect for--?” The assassin managed to snap his mouth shut before he said anything further, and he huffed a furious snort.

Ethari backed away, his guts swirling with guilt. He’d fooled the village council into choosing him as Runaan’s marital ally, hiding his feelings from them, and from Runaan too. And then he’d tried to steal his first kiss, blurted the truth, and confessed what felt like an innocent, wholesome, clever chain of events. Except now Runaan didn’t trust him. Their union had meant to strengthen Moonshadow relations, but Ethari had brought the seed of deceit into its very heart.

He looked down at his boots, silent, waiting. This was no time to try to earn back Runaan’s trust. That would be a long and painful process as it was. Better to start when his husband wasn’t actively yelling at him.

Maybe tomorrow, after a good night’s rest. If we can manage to figure out how and where to find it.

When he peeked up at Runaan through his lashes, the assassin was staring at him with wide intense eyes. Ethari raised his brows. Runaan kept staring. Not fondly, either. Ethari’s shoulders slumped, and his gaze found the smooth wooden floor. The grain was beautiful, he noted, full of deep blue-silver swirls.

Runaan tucked his hands behind his back, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “I apologize. This is no way to begin our... arrangement. If we must share a bed, then I suggest we get to it. We’ve had a long day of... of getting married. You must be as tired as I am.”

Ethari offered him a tired half-smile. “Do your feet hurt too?” he asked softly.

Runaan’s brows evened out. “I’m on my feet all day. Hours of dancing are no hardship.”

Ethari let his eyes slide toward the outer wall of the tree house, beyond which he knew several assassins were pretending not to eavesdrop. “That’s a real shame, Runaan.”

Runaan’s eyes zeroed in on him with intense focus. “Explain.”

-*-*-

“Ah, right there, push harder,” Runaan moaned, writhing lightly on his stomach atop the soft bed. His long hair sprawled, tousled and tangled, across his bare back.

“You sure you can take it?” Ethari’s question breathed through closed teeth as he bent to his task, hands working over the assassin beneath him, lending his body weight to the sweet, insistent pressure he offered.

“I’m going to be sore when I wake, no matter what,” Runaan said breathlessly against the pillow he clutched. “Your hands are v-very skilled--aah-- Please, please, continue... hnngh... aahhh...”

Ethari chuckled softly at the sweet, desperate noises Runaan was making. The lanky assassin looked delicious all stretched out before him, all long legs and tousled hair and breathy gasps. He dared to hope that, one day, Runaan might make them for another reason besides getting an intense calf massage to work out the knots from too much dancing.

Runaan’s other foot kicked helplessly atop the blanket as Ethari pressed a knuckle into a new knot high on Runaan’s calf. “Hhhgh, moon and shadow,” he cursed.

Ethari’s hands paused, holding Runaan’s muscled calf protectively. “Too hard?”

“Mm’mm. Keep going. It’s good for me.”

“I’ll slow down,” Ethari offered. “I don’t want to break you on our first night.” He couldn’t help but say that last line with a sassy grin.

Runaan’s head popped up from his pillow, and he shot Ethari a hot glare over his shoulder. “You couldn’t possibly--”

Ethari drove his knuckle deep into the knotted muscle.

“AAH-ha-haagh, moondimmit, fuck!” Runaan swore. “Light and shade of the sacred cycle, have mercy on my s-soul...” he squeaked.

“Ooh,” Ethari cooed, “I like it when you plead.”

Runaan’s gaze could’ve stripped the bark off the entire house in a single slice.

A sudden sliding scuff on the branch outside the shuttered window drew their attention. It was swiftly followed by a quiet yelp as someone outside lost their footing.

Ethari paused his hard kneading and flicked his eyebrows with another sassy smirk. “Well, that’s three assassins we’ve overwhelmed so far. How many more do you think will want to listen in?”

Runaan let his forehead plop into the pillow as he caught his breath. “It’s been an hour. We’ve made our point. And I’m not sure I can walk at the moment.”

“You want me to carry you somewhere?” Ethari offered softly. He rested a light hand against the back of Runaan’s knee.

“No, I just want to sleep with you now.”

Ethari blinked, unsure he’d heard right. “S-Sorry?”

“We’ve established that I can’t sleep anywhere else, Ethari. So I have to sleep with you. All I meant.” Runaan groaned and rolled into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. One hand reached for Ethari’s scarf. “You don’t plan to sleep in that, do you?”

“Uhh. Nope.” Ethari tugged his scarf free. “I don’t sleep in much, actually... I get hot... uh...” Like right now. It’s really hot in here all of a sudden!

“Hm. That’s fine. I don’t sleep in anything at all.” Runaan stood up and shucked off his trousers with zero ado whatsoever.

“Hrkk!” Ethari choked against a fist. “Are-Are you s-sure you...” Moon help me, I’m just infinitely gay, infinitely, did he just, did he-- Help....

Runaan turned around and looked down at him, hands on his narrow hips. Ethari desperately locked his eyes onto his new husband’s turquoise ones, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’ve got about five minutes of consciousness left before I crash,” Runaan said in a cool tone. “And I’m not falling asleep around someone I don’t trust, unless I can control the risks he poses.”

Ethari gulped. “Wh-What does that mean? Are you going to tie me up or something?”

Runaan raised a speculative eyebrow.

-*-*-

“Not too tight?” Runaan murmured, kneeling at Ethari’s side as the craftsman lay on his back, wearing nothing more than a soft pair of sleep shorts--which was more than Runaan was wearing. His fingers lightly adjusted the soft bindings around Ethari’s wrists.

“This really isn’t necessary, I promise,” Ethari began. “I’ve already agreed to--”

“I know what you’ve said. I also know the depth of your capability for deceitfulness. If you’d been truthful, we wouldn’t need restraints.”

We. How “we” does he mean that? Ethari wondered.

“Now roll onto your side,” Runaan ordered. “I’m not turning my back on you again, and I’m keeping you right where I can find you.”

With his eyes wide and dark, Ethari rolled over and felt Runaan tuck his bare body behind him, nestling close. Ethari’s breathing stuttered as Runaan hooked one leg atop the craftsman’s hip, pinning him in place. He clutched his softly tied hands to his chest to reassure himself that he was still breathing. This was torture of the worst kind! To be in love with such a beautiful elf, to be allowed to marry him, to share a bed, to watch him strip down and snuggle tightly--and to have it all mean something entirely different than what Ethari had begged the universe for--it was the sweetest dagger in his heart. He knew he’d never recover from its wound, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

Runaan’s hand snaked between Ethari’s arm and his ribs and clasped his wrists lightly, tucking one seeking finger under the bindings. The touch was so intimate and gentle, as if Runaan were admitting that he too were bound the same way as Ethari was, that it brought a shaky tear to the corner of Ethari’s eye.

His struggles to smooth out his breathing did not go unnoticed, however, since the assassin was pressed skin to skin against his back. Runaan’s fingers gently rubbed along Ethari’s wrists, soothing the cord’s rub.

“Sometimes I don’t trust myself, either.” Runaan’s voice was slurred with sleep. His five minutes had come and gone, perhaps a couple of minutes ago.

“I swear to you, Runaan,” Ethari said, breathing his words like a prayer, “I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted this.” He wriggled his bound wrists against Runaan’s grip.

Runaan squeezed the bindings possessively. “Maybe I did.”

Ethari gasped slowly at Runaan’s sleepy confession. Then he gasped harder as Runaan’s mouth closed over the skin at the base of his neck. Runaan instinctively clasped him still with all his limbs, holding Ethari in his control with a soft hum that grew gentle teeth against his skin. Ethari froze, entirely breathless, trembling with a heady concoction of delight, fear, and arousal. “R-Runaan?”

Runaan’s mouth nibbled gently, sleepily. “Mmmm.”

“Runaan, are you... awake?”

The assassin’s teeth grazed his skin and claimed his ear, biting gently, sucking on its tip. “No. And don’t you dare tell me about this in the morning.”

A waterfall of helpless, confused, ecstatic noises tumbled from Ethari’s mouth. Runaan’s hands began roaming him, and his teeth dragged and nipped in their wake, drawing gasps and curses from Ethari’s lips, making him writhe against his husband. Runaan’s nibbling became insistent, and he crawled across Ethari, pushing him onto his back, pinning his bound hands over his head even as his mouth worked along the lower curve of Ethari’s left pec.

Ethari bucked helplessly and groaned until his voice shredded into a needy whine. “Runaan, please... aah...”

Runaan nipped his way across Ethari’s heart and along the side of his neck, drawing ever louder sounds of pleasure from Ethari’s lips. He eased down flush atop him, tucking his long slender legs outside Ethari’s sturdy ones. Rampant heat flared between them. But while Ethari was getting worked up, Runaan was relaxing bonelessly, his breathing slowing.

He pressed his mouth to Ethari’s ear, nipping gently at its lower edge. “Hold me, Ethari. I want to trust you so much.” And he let go of Ethari’s bound wrists and nestled his head against his husband’s muscled shoulder.

Ethari tensed, as desperately confused as he was aroused, but he lowered his arms to hold Runaan close, craving the smell of his hair, the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath. “I... I have you, Runaan...”

“Mmmm.” The assassin’s breathing slowed and evened out as he passed fully into slumber, sprawled without a stitch atop the elf he claimed not to trust.

Ethari felt his body throb hot against Runaan’s lax weight. With a tiny whimper, he let his head fall back against the pillow. No...This really is torture of the worst kind! He flexed his wrists against Runaan’s bindings as they rested against the small of the assassin’s back. How am I supposed to survive this kind of cruelty?

He bemoaned his indecently unfair fate for several minutes before exhaustion claimed him, too. His last waking act was to kiss Runaan’s temple and murmur, “Sleep well... husband.”

At Ethari’s soft words, Runaan let out a deeply contented sigh and snuggled closer.

Alone in the dark, and yet not quite as alone as he had been, Ethari thought he might cry, for every single reason at once.

#ruthari arranged marriage au #ruthari #ruthari fanfic #my writing #tdp angst #ruthari angst #spicy fluff #naked cuddling #enemies AND lovers

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oftenderweapons · 3 years

Text

Apple Of My Pie (5) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story Chapter 5.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 3.8k

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers; angst, very little fluff

Rating: suggested 18+

Trigger Warnings: swearing, slight anxiety, verbal fight, generic allusions to sex.

A/N: Hello my cupcakes! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: As Jin and Grace grow more intimate, Buttercup realises she needs a way out of her situation, and Namjoon and Jeongguk offer her just that. However, as the events develop, she understands that her decision needs to be even more drastic. Jeongguk teaches Seokjin a very tough lesson — maybe the toughest of them all.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing. Allusions to sex; accidental overhearing. Seokjin is kind of a jerk, Jeongguk is very angry at him. Verbal fight. Buttercup feels slightly anxious/panics at the thought of going back to the apartment.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

If you’d like some company, here is the music companion (Spotify only, sorry 😔)

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

There were things you never thought you would have to do, things that made you realise the absurdity of your position, the complete stupidity of the circumstances.

Real people don’t need to handle this. Real people live banal lives, date, fall in love, break up. Or get married, have kids, grow up and grow old together.

Real people aren’t awake at four am because their crush’s date is mewling from the opposite side of the apartment.

You didn’t want to ask yourself questions.

You wanted to sleep and possibly wake up cold. That is, dead.

She mewled. Of course, not actually cat sounds but rather that kind of small, shy squeals that usually mean “I’m shy but I love whatever this person is doing”.

You didn’t allow yourself to dig into that.

You just turned to the other side and pressed the spare pillow against your head, trying to mute the sounds — and maybe mute your thoughts in the process.

Maybe accidentally suffocate yourself.

It was ridiculous.

This had happened about a month ago, with reversed roles — you being the squealer and Seokjin being the unfortunate listener.

You wondered whether he had felt just like you were feeling at that moment.

You thought about wearing your headphones and blasting some music. You thought about rushing out of the apartment and smashing the door on your way out.

You knew you had no one to call, no one who could rescue you at four am on a winter night, sheltering you from the shards of your heart precipitating and stabbing your guts.

Maybe you were allucinating. Maybe it was the sound of your pulse getting too loud because you didn’t trust yourself breathing without emitting a sob.

No, it was the headboard. There was no other way to explain the thumping.

You turned and grabbed your phone, sending a hopeless shout in the void. Just a text to the one most likely to answer, even though the chances were pretty thin.

Are you awake? Perhaps?

The thumping subdued.

Your vision blurred as you stared and stared, occasionally tapping the screen and praying for a miracle.

You thought you had fallen asleep, trapped in a nightmare, when a small bubble appeared.

On the hunt. We’re just back from Mulbreigh field. I guess you’re home?”

You shook yourself up and got moving, not even caring to keep quiet. The thumping had resumed, and so had the mewling.

At Ginger’s in five.

Gotcha.

You did exit the apartment in a few minutes, grabbing just the bare necessities, and closing the door quietly.

By now you were familiar with nightly runaways.

And you were also familiar with the trio headed toward you.

“Buttercup, is that you?” A calm, familiar voice asked.

“Joon?”

“Yeah, it’s us. We have just one field left.” He said. “We’re hoping to get the last one in time for the meteor shower.”

You raised your eyebrows. “There’s a meteor shower tonight?”

The other man at Namjoon’s side was a vet from a city nearby, who occasionally helped him track new wild animals that inhabited the area. “Yes. At around five am. It will be barely visible, but it will be there. Nice to see you, Buttercup.”

“Hello Marcus, always a pleasure.” You said kindly, still shaking your head at the nickname. Shortly after, you noticed the third man greeting you. “Hi Buttercup!”

“Hello Guk!” You said. “How many did you find?”

“We found three owls and got them chipped and registered. And we found a new fox, just out of Mulbreigh. We’re going to track him or her soon, hopefully. No wolves, fortunately.”

You smiled. “That’s good news!” You said enthusiastically, thinking about how the farmer would have menaced those. The four of you walked toward the last location, taking a long path stretching north.

“We’re hoping to find deers, honestly. Remember when we found that doe, last year? Apparently she found a way to remove her tracker and we’re hoping we can keep her monitored, just in case she has more fawns this year.” Marcus explained, at which you nodded in interest.

Staying focused allowed you to remove some thoughts from your mind, but at the same time you kept yourself out of their way, letting the experts work, following them from a distance as they combed the field and placed pheromones signals around the area, hoping to attract the doe to the trees near the field, where it was easier to find her traces and where it was potentially easier to catch her.

“There’s no point going on here,” commented Marcus. “We can only wait. It might take weeks.”

Namjoon huffed and nodded. “Oh, there!” He said, pointing up. A white sign resembling a scratch slashed the horizon in the west, Jeongguk whipping his head in the direction, his pretty eyes widening in wonder as he saw one more shooting star zoom through the sky lighting up at dawn in such delicate shades, from rose to periwinkle to deep royal blue.

For a moment you stared at the sky, feeling its immensity, peace and beauty heal you slowly and steadily. How could such tiny human matters affect its infinity? You let your eyes drown in the greatness of everything, with the snowcaps rimmed in gold in the distance, and the meteors becoming invisible as the sky finally became too bright.

“Guk, Buttercup, why don’t you head home while me and Marcus drive back at the cabin and finish up the paperwork?” Namjoon suggested, by now extremely used to his routine.

Jeongguk looked intermittently at you and Namjoon, adorably confused before he nodded.

“Okay.” He agreed.

You smiled timidly before thanking him, the two of you starting your walk back to town. It was a thirty minute trek, at worst, but you were both fast walkers and in twenty-five you reached his small house. Bibby, his large, scary dog — who of course is a sweetheart, just like his owner — welcomed both of you, the oversized puppy throwing himself at you and barking just once before Jeongguk shushed him.

“How come you joined us?” Jeongguk asked, uncapping his orange juice bottle and pouring a glass, offering you some while you shook your head and declined politely.

You crossed your arms, your stance becoming defensive. You fidgeted and tried to speak, starting a couple times before stopping and starting again, trying to build an actual sentence.

Jeongguk looked at you and waited patiently. He was familiar with the blabbering, stuttering and reformulating.

“Okay. Don’t say this to Yoongi, but… Yeah, he took Grace home last night— That is, he brought her to the apartment and they… Slept together?” You said, your voice so squeaky by the time you said the final word.

“And by ‘sleeping’ you mean everything but, right?” Jeongguk asked tactfully.

You nodded and looked at the floor, busying yourself petting Bibby.

“I’m so sorry, Buttercup.” He said, coming close to you and caressing your back soothingly.

You didn’t have the energies to cry. You probably would, in a while, after waking up.

“You need some sleep, don’t you, Buttercup?” Jeongguk asked, patting your head.

Again you replied wordlessly, moving your head in approval.

“Bibby is a great nap buddy, and I can get the futon ready and let you sleep there.” He reassured you, already fluffing up the pillows and grabbing an extra blanket.

“I’d like to sleep on the sofa, please?” You said, sitting down and removing your shoes, Bibby immediately getting interested in your wiggling toes.

“Oh, you’d like that?” He asked in surprise, “try it first, I can still get the futon ready if you don’t like this old guy.” He joked about the piece of furniture.

You laid on your side, wiggling a little as you found the right position. “Can do.” You said with a barely-there smile. “Thank you, Guk.”

“It’s okay.” He said, throwing the blanket on top of you. “This one is just for guests. I washed it last weekend, don’t worry.” He reassured you.

Knowing Jeongguk, you didn’t even mind. He is a neat freak and a tattoo artist: cleanliness means everything to him. “Can I seriously keep Bibby?” You asked, soft eyed.

He beamed and nodded. “He only sleeps on the sofa.” He said proudly and, as if following his owner’s praise, Bibby climbed on the cushions, curling up in the space before you and laying his head on your arm, using it as a pillow.

You giggled and scratched the spot behind his ear.

“Ask me if you need anything.” Jeongguk murmured. “I’ll leave my door open, just in case you need help or something.” He commented sweetly, closing the blinds to the several windows before walking to the kitchen and coming back to you, placing a bottle of water close to you.

He noticed Bibby was already asleep and he caressed the dog’s head before whispering “sleep tight”.

You heard him leave the room. You closed your eyes, feeling Bibby’s lungs inflate and deflate regularly, his heartbeat strong, his short fur velvety and relaxing under your fingertips.

You fell asleep like a baby.

Waking up meant a lot of things happening altogether.

Realising Bibby was in your arms.

Realising you were on Jeongguk’s sofa.

Realising you were heartbroken and that the idea of going back home nauseated you so deeply you couldn’t even remotely consider it.

Jeongguk greeted you from the kitchen. “You’re up, Buttercup!” He cheered, while Bibby turned around and placed his big head under your chin, shading his eyes. He always marvelled you with his curious manners. “It’s midday, would you like brunch?”

You sniffed the air. Bacon and eggs.

“Yes, please.”

Bibby seemed to follow your lead, sniffing the air and running to his owner, acting way faster than you.

“Okay, what do we wanna do?” Jeongguk asked once you were both seated at the kitchen table.

You ate some food, chewing quietly as you thought. You took your time.

“Honestly, I don't feel like going home, I guess.” You said, staring at your dish. You felt a bit lost.

“We can hang out. Watch TV, meet the guys, do anything you want.” Jeongguk said.

“I was thinking of… No, it's okay, I should go home.”

“But you don't want to.” Jeongguk opposed.

“No, but I don't want to go back later tonight and find myself dreading sleeping in my room.” You said. You couldn't explain the emptiness in your stomach as you thought of the room.

“You know you can stay here as long as you want, right? I have a spare room. We can put the futon there.” He said touching your hand.

That small sentence felt like the water threatening to drown you was slowly lowering.

“I don't want to abuse your kindness.” You admitted shyly, softly.

“I am your friend. It is my duty to help you” He reassured you.

You mulled over your various possibilities. “Okay. But I'd like to go home and grab some stuff. Maybe they're not around.” You considered, looking at Jeongguk doubtfully.

“It's okay. We can go together.”

You exhaled in relief.

Standing in front of the apartment door, you took a deep breath, Jeongguk rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades, over your jacket.

You could already hear them laughing and chatting.

You slipped the keys into the lock and opened the door.

“I'll wait here, yes?” Jeongguk reassured you.

You nodded and went in, walking to your room hesitantly, only to be completely overwhelmed by the sight in the kitchen.

Jin was standing behind Grace, helping her prepare his special avocado sandwich, an elaborate mug topped with whipped cream and crushed almonds waiting beside her while the breakfast table was filled with any kind of breakfast and brunch food one could only dream of.

However, what truly unsettled you was Grace, wearing an oversized shirt — Jin's — bare-legged, with Granny's thick handmade socks covering her feet and calves.

Seokjin said something in her ear and she giggled cutely, throwing her head back and leaning into his shoulder.

They ignored you completely, caught in their happy bubble, while you hid slightly.

You refused to hold on, rushing back to the front door.

Jeongguk spoke softly. “Where's your stuff?”

You shook your head.

“I'm coming with you.” He said, placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you inside, closing the door noisily.

“Hello, we're here.” He called loudly, bringing the two of you to the kitchen.

Seokjin's eyes zeroed in to the place the man's voice had come from, spotting you instead.

So this is it, he thought.

He. Grace.

You. Jeongguk.

Jeongguk?

His jaw contracted.

“Buttercup came by to grab some things. It won't take long, will it, sweets?”

You widened your eyes at him and shook your head. “Yes, sure.”

You almost ran to your bedroom, picking up the most basic stuff to spend a night out and to head off to lessons the following morning.

In the bathroom, you collected your toothbrush and beauty products before returning to the kitchen, your bag ready.

“Good to go, sweets?” He questioned, looking at you with his expressive, gleeful eyes.

You nodded and gave him the tiniest of smiles. “Let's go.”

Jeongguk turned towards Jin and Grace. “Have a nice afternoon, goodbye!” He greeted, letting you wave at the two before dragging you out, not before offering Seokjin a smug grin and winking.

Wearing that mask took a toll on him. He hated what Seokjin had done to you through the years, acting like a protective older brother without being one. He hated that the man kept you emotionally busy and never let you out of his influence. Most of your past relationships had dramatically been brought to an end by Seokjin's asphyxiating presence, by the incapability of your partners to rival with your best friend.

He had ruined you for everyone else, and Jeongguk couldn't find any words to define how cruel that was.

“Are you doing okay, Buttercup?” He asked.

You smiled a bit coldly.

“I'm sorry you had to see that.” He opened the door and let you in, Bibby welcoming the both of you.

“It's okay. They've been dating for more than a month now. He's been by himself for a long time–”

“But he had you!” Jeongguk objected as he took off his jacket.

Your mouth stretched sadly. “Not like that.”

Jeongguk scrunched his nose in disappointment. “Okay. You know I’ve had the biggest crush over you. And we know that by now it’s just water under the bridge. And maybe I never told you but it was so easy to get over you — no offence — since to me, actually to all of us, you and Jin have always belonged to each other. It’s canon. Anyone else would be wrong for the two of you. Obviously.”

You completely ignored Jeongguk’s mention of those old feelings. You already knew; it was all water under the bridge — just like he said — and the two had discussed it years ago. Instead, you focused on the belonging part. “He has Grace now. They’ve been dating for what? Six weeks?”

“He’s been in love with you for four years!” Jeongguk said, slightly upset.

“Well, apparently he didn’t do a great job of showing that! And it doesn’t matter now. He has Grace.” You repeated.

“The two of you are so stupidly dumb, I need to call Yoongi.” Jeongguk said, absolutely frustrated.

Silence lingered heavy in the room, like a thick fog. “Don’t call Yoongi, please.” You said, sitting on the sofa and curling up in a ball. “He’ll scold me and then snap at Jin and then Spice will kill all of us for stressing him and interrupting their kinky Sunday afternoon.”

Jeongguk startled and put down the phone. “Kinky Sunday afternoon? Is that a thing?”

“With Spice, anything is a thing, especially if it means alone time with Yoongi.” You explained, scratching your nose and hugging Bibby as he got on the sofa.

“Okay. Let’s think about happier, less traumatising things. Do you wanna watch some TV? I have some Disney DVDs from when Namjoon comes over. No Bambi and Dumbo because those make him cry.” Jeongguk said, exposing his friend shamelessly. “And I don’t want to pay for Disney plus, Yoongi would disown me and I would never tattoo him anymore and I don’t want that.”

You giggled, completely endeared. “Do you think you have Tangled?”

“Oh, yes!” Jeongguk checked the case and placed the CD in his PlayStation. “Namjoon loves Pascal. The chameleon.” Jeongguk gushed, sitting on the sofa, switching on a small lamp. “Oh, would you like some popcorn?” He asked, ever friendly and welcoming.

You smirked before nodding.

Pausing the film, he dashed to the kitchen, getting a bag into the microwave and coming back five minutes later with a large bowl, the whole room smelling of salted butter.

You hummed in approval and settled down, Bibby miraculously uninterested in the snack. He restarted the film and your mind got completely absorbed by that.

Seokjin was confused.

He had accompanied Grace home, and now he sat in an empty room — an empty house —, looking at the opposite end of the table, where you weren’t sitting.

Did you sleep with Jeongguk for revenge?

Did you maybe talk to him and he made his move and you said ‘why not’, just like you had with that dude almost a month ago?

Maybe you liked him. Maybe you had always liked him and the two of you had confessed — he had a different gleam in his eyes and he had called you ‘sweetie’ or some other dumb nickname like that.

He should have confessed. He should have stopped hiding his head in his ass and should have grown a pair and told you, Buttercup, I’m so far gone that I’d be ready to serve you for the rest of my life, hell, I’d even donate you my sperm if your husband was infertile and you wanted kids. I’d even give up a kidney, fuck, I’d give up my heart too for you.

He was a dumb, stupid fucker.

He wrote you a text.

I’m sorry about fucking Grace, please come home.

Erased

Please come home. We need to talk. I’m in love with you.

Erased

Don’t fuck Jeongguk, you can fuck me instead, please.

Erased

He realised he always wrote ‘please’, and the more he went on, the more he needed to add.

He tried to stop overthinking everything and focused on the actual reality of it all.

He stared at your empty seat again.

Are you coming home for dinner?

Sent

The silence felt eternal.

That must be how space rovers feel, he thought, thinking about that tiny robot that wandered over the surface of Mars all alone.

He felt like the whole apartment couldn’t possibly be home anymore.

He shook his head, telling himself he was being melodramatic. After five minutes, he decided to call you. You always answered texts about food! You knew how much it meant to him eating together!

With renewed tenacity, he found your contact at the very top of the list, three A’s added before your name to make sure it always stayed on top of the list.

And he called you.

The beeping sound of the call ringing went on for ages. He swore he could feel his hair grow and his skin wither.

He waited maybe for a bit less than a minute, his mind already knowing that you were upset with him, that you were making him wait and grovel. You were trying to get on his nerves. Most definitely.

The ringing stopped.

“What is it?”

It was Jeongguk.

“Is she with you?” Seokjin asked, cold as ice.

“Yes. Of course.”

“When is she coming home?” Jin asked dryly. He felt ready for a fight.

“When she wants to.” Jeongguk replied equally dryly.

“Give her the phone.”

Jeongguk breathed heavily. He didn’t want to pass the phone to you. Seokjin had no right claiming you like that, using that voice, acting so mean when he was the one at fault. “She’s sleeping.” It was true. You were really sleeping; you had completely crashed at the end of the cartoon, with Bibby keeping you warm and covering you in affection, never leaving your side. After all, some dogs have a sense of smell so fine that they can sniff at their owner’s skin and perceive the hormones making their human happy or sad.

Seokjin waited, trying to calm himself down. It didn’t work. “I bet you’re gloating. You finally have her, don’t you? You must be feeling so smug.”

Jeongguk stretched his neck, keeping his composure. “I don’t have her, okay? She came to me and I gave her space. I gave her somewhere safe—”

“Our home is safe.” Jin growled. “Here is safe.”

“With you breaking her heart by banging that girl you don’t love?”

“She also banged a man she didn’t give a shit about.”

Jeongguk raised his eyebrows. “Did you bang Grace for revenge, then?”

“No. God, I’ve been alone for years, can’t I have one good thing?” Seokjin almost screamed, his frustration spilling over.

“Maybe she banged him to get over you. Maybe she did that because she’s tired of being alone, too.” Jeongguk explained, his tone glacial. His anger was scary — it didn’t explode or break. It froze everything it touched. “You hurt her. The moment you chose Grace, and with every date you went on. When you went to her on Valentine’s, when you banged her the other night. And there’s a difference. The dude she banged? That was just sex. But you and Grace? There are feelings there. That’s the part she can’t stand. This morning, when she saw the two of you in the kitchen? You broke her heart, Jin. She was broken—”

“But you fixed that, didn’t you, sweetie?” He teased, sarcastic and poisonous.

“Stop talking about my feelings for her.” Jeongguk chastised him. “Unlike you, I told her. I told her I had had a crush for her. I told her three years ago and I also told her that my feelings died down once I realised how she looked at you and how you looked at her. And we’re friends, we’re cool. I would never be able to look at her like anything more than a sister.”

Seokjin shut his mouth. He felt horrible. Maybe because he was horrible. He needed your sparkly laugh and your soothing touch. To talk things out about last night. Make everything right again. “Please, convince her to come home.”

Jeongguk tutted. “I won’t. She’ll come if she wants to. At her own time.”

“Jeongguk...” Seokjin begged.

“You both need to move on from this toxic bond. And there’s no way other than separating. Physically first, and emotionally second.” Jeongguk reasoned, repeating something he and Yoongi had discussed a thousand times.

“She is my friend.”

“You’re not hers, though. You are the person she loves, and the person hurting her. She deserves a real chance, away from you.” Jeongguk rubbed the crown of his head. “I have to go. Goodnight.”

He hung up.

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Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

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