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lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year ago

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[17.49]

― pairing : Chris x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, gamer au, drabble, mentions to overwatch, explicit language, oral sex (f recieving), unprotected sex, established relationship ― word count : 2.099

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

«Hurry up, Chris.» you whined to yourself as you were wearing your headphones and adjusting the microphone in front of you; streaming videogames was one of your favourite hobbies and you managed to stream a couple of hours a day as soon as you got home from work.

Honestly, you were more than thankful to your boyfriend, Chris, offering you to be the admin of your gaming channel and therefore, sitting next to you during all your streams. Despite the fact that you started constantly streaming more than six months ago, the fact that an unknown number of people was watching and sometimes judging your gaming skills was enough to make you nervous and slightly worsen your aim.

Chris shared the same passion as you did, and your gaming set up included two almost identical gaming postation and therefore, this meant that not only he could sit next to you, but also monitor the viewers’ comment just in case someone was disrespectful enough to be banned. It was undeniable that you found his presence soothing; he would place a hand on your thigh to signal that the live had started - since you couldn’t see the live delay for yourself and, as soon as it was finished, he would kiss you while praising you with a wide and sincere smile, saying you did great.

Somehow, Chris managed to make everything seem less intimidating, and you were genuinely thankful for his daily presence in your life.

«What if I mess up and try to counter Winston with Genji?» you left yourself sink into the chair, re-adjusting your pyjama shorts – you honestly didn’t bother to dress up nicely beside your shirt, as you heard a light chuckle coming from next to you.

«Prepare yourself to be banned by the whole community of gamers.» Chris answered with a playful smile as he put on his headphones as well; you groaned to yourself, making him laugh at your reaction.

«Come here, sunshine, let me give you a good luck kiss.» Chris pulled your chair to his, and you immediately leaned in to peck his lips in a quick but soft manner; you sighed, feeling content with your boyfriend’s constant display of attention. However, Chris felt like he wanted more, and he wasn’t sure he could wait for your streaming to end.

«Hi, everyone!» you said as soon as Chris placed his hand on your thigh, staring into the camera with a bright smile on your face, «So many games came out this week, but I didn’t know what to stream! I guess for today we’ll settle for some quick plays on Overwatch until I decide what to actually buy.» you laughed, blushing a bit.

The stream started smoothly, you would miss some kills due to your nervousness, but Chris gently patting your leg or your elbow anytime you died helped yourself not to feel too frustrated about it.

«I know you’re about to come for my head,» you joked, focused on changing your character, «but I’m going to try walking this path again, this time with a sniper, because don’t we all love a bit of thrill.» you said, leading your character on the route where you died in silly ways at least four times, completely unaware about Chris’ sudden mischievous smirk.

Eventually, you felt Chris’ hand on your thigh; you glanced at him, just to see if anything was wrong or people were really spamming the comment section because “playing a sniper on Nepal’s control map is just unacceptable”, but he simply shook your head, showing you a playful and innocent smile.

The more the game went on, the more you tried not to focus on the fact that Chris’ hand was slowly inching higher on your thigh, making your skin immediately feel warm at the contact; you could feel his eyes fixed on you rather than the screen, and anytime you glanced at him, he’d squeeze your thigh and shook his head in a silent signal that everything was okay.

Chris’ hand was dangerously close to the hem of your loose pyjama shorts, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from the desire to touch you; Chris was perfectly aware about the fact that you tensed up, and he was also perfectly aware that you were sensitive, but he wanted to have a little bit of fun.

As you felt Chris’ thumb stroke your thigh while applying a slight pressure every now and then, you knew it was not unintentional; your eyes widened, noticing what your boyfriend was up to. Your leg accidentally twitched, causing Chris’ hand to slide a little bit higher; you sent him a panicked look, but your boyfriend answered with a wink and a playful smile.

Only then, you understood how mischievous Chris looked in that very moment: messy hair in which he kept running his hands, and his pyjama shirt slightly unbuttoned; this small distraction caused you to die once again, the loud noise of an enemy’s special attack startling you and inevitably drawing your attention back to the game.

“Okay love,” you thought, “two can play this game” you jolted, trying to keep a neutral expression as you felt his Chris’ hold tighten on your inner thigh, hoping that he wouldn’t try anything in front of 900 viewers. Once again, you were perfectly aware about the microphone only few inches from your mouth, recording perfectly every hitch of your breath anytime Chris dared some bolder move as massaging his thigh.

You knew that at this point, the views probably dropped, since you couldn’t focus due to the growing wetness in your pants. “This is surreal,” you thought trying to chase an enemy player, “I can’t get turned on from this,” you managed to counter his attack and proceed straight to the point yet to conquer. All the hopes you held were short lived, as soon as you felt Chris’ hand taking advantage of the fact that your legs were spreaded – damn you and your habit of sitting in weird ways, just to place the palm of his hand directly on your wetness; your leg twitched and your knee accidentally slammed under the desk.

«Shit!» you exclaimed, «Sorry everyone, I kinda got startled by Genji screaming in my ear.» you lied, fully aware of the blush entirely covering from your face to your neck.

As you sent Chris another panicked look, your breath slightly quickened and your heart was hammering in your chest so loudly that you could confuse it for a game sound effect; Chris, however, simply winked you once again, his hold tight and unwavering. Luck was on your side, because as soon as you felt Chris’ hand sliding inside your shorts, the match also ended.

«Okay, today live ends here!» you announced, not planning to end it so soon, but you certainly couldn’t keep streaming when Chris was teasing you like that in front of everyone.

«Thanks everyone for following me today, see you in two days, same time! Bye!» you smiled cheerfully trying to ignore Chris slightly palming his growing erection with his head thrown on the chair, before turning everything off: live, webcam, microphone.

«Okay love, we can log out, and also» you whispered taking off your headphones, «what the hell was that for?» Having gotten what he was aiming for, Chris’s mouth was now stretched into a full grin and his attention directed completely towards you; his hand was still between your legs, but now he was applying more pressure to it, knowing well the effect it had on you.

«Your fans are absolutely right, sunshine,» he said, removing his hand from you for a brief moment, enough for him to stand up and balance himself on the armrests of your chair, pinning you against it and leaning towards you, «You look absolutely gorgeous today, I couldn’t wait to have you all for myself.» Chris’ lips inched towards you with a slow pace, and you waited for him to kiss you with parted lips and a hammering heart, anticipating the moment; as soon as your lips were few millimetres apart, he suddenly tilted his head, his lips busy tracing abstract patterns on your neck as he gently spreaded your legs using his.

«Are you sure you turned everything off?» Chris asked, sitting between your spreader legs and caressing your inner thighs in a rough manner, his fingertips toying with the elastic band of your pyjama; you glanced at the screen with a panicked look, and nodded as soon as you saw that you were completely offline.

As soon as Chris saw your affirmative response, he slid both your shorts and your underwear off your legs, licking his lips with a victorious smile at the sight of you already on the verge to fall apart when he still didn’t do anything. Chris knew the effect he had on you, and he loved to take advantage of it; wearing rings on his hands, bracelets, it was not casual, they were simple details which would focus your attention to certain places and he loved seeing you getting flustered because of it. Especially, he loved when he could feel your body shiver as a reaction to the cold metal of his rings encountering your hot skin.

«Chris!» you whined, as you felt his lips attaching on your clit and eagerly sucking on it; your hands flew in his soft brown hair and he moaned against your wetness, eager to please you and to hear your moans in return, knowing that he was the cause of your bliss.

Chris wasted no time in teasing you, and immediately his tongue was occasionally alternating kitten licks to more rough movements, his tongue flat and spreading your wet folds already clenching around nothing thanks to the desire that rapidly built up inside you. Chris fingertips reached out, spreading your folds so that he could draw abstract shapes against it while using the tip of his tongue, making you whimper at the need of further contact.

However, by now, Chris knew your body language and purposely avoided to give you what you were silently asking for; you jolted forwards, feeling your legs shake as Chris experimentally moaned against your wetness, and since he was pleased with your reactions, he simply decided to add it as well to the mix.

Quickly, you reached out to unbutton your shirt, feeling like it was getting a bit too hot in the room to be so overdressed; you took the opportunity to push your wetness even more into Chris’ face, which in response sucked on it a little more eagerly at the sight of one of your hands playing with your nipple and your chest rising and fall in quick, uneven intakes of breaths.

«Fingers,» you whimpered, «I want your fingers.» you pulled his face closer to you by the hold you had on his hair; you were close, but you wanted to come at least around Chris’ thick fingers scissoring and curling inside you.

«You’ll take what I give you.» Chris’ voice was hoarse and husky, and he detached from you just enough to answer your plead, before starting once again to lap at your parted folds; choking on a whine, you nodded at Chris’ sudden rough behaviour, before glancing down, and finally noticing that Chris was also busy touching himself while pleasuring you.

The sight of his fist tightly wrapped around his length in quick and sharp movements – while the silver bracelet he always wore was dancing around his wrist, mixed to the feeling of his mouth stimulating you, made you rapidly approach your orgasm. Calling for Chris’ name as if it was a prayer, your body shook, your muscles quickly tensing up and relaxing in a rapid succession, and Chris never stopping his motions of eagerly sucking on your clit until you eventually started to tremble in overstimulation. You were sure that your wetness was dripping on your gaming chair, but your eyes were locked on Chris, which sat back with his cheeks flushed red, leaning his weight on his hands as his pyjama pants were loosely hanging around his thighs, his length still hard and obviously begging for attention and release.

«If we don’t fuck within the next minute I’ll go insane,» you panted, your legs still spreaded and the sensation of your orgasm still lingering on your body; Chris agreed, nodding few times, before quickly glancing behind himself.

«On my gaming chair?» Chris asked, rising his eyebrow at you.

«On your gaming chair.» you nodded immediately, and you both moved to stand up at the same time.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #bang chan smut #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids smut

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dewdrip · 29 days ago

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#DEWDRIP: an affiliated bailu rp blog, healing with mik (20, they/them, gmt +8). living a life in shallow waters, yearning to breach the surface. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON AFFILIATION: this blog is affiliated with gnostic hymns. as such, personal blogs and rp blogs not affiliated with gh will be softblocked or blocked.

ON OOC: i make a lot of jokes ooc, as well as post shitposts (tagged appropriately on this blog) please don't take them seriously!!! none of what i say ooc is canon here in gh. i try to be very clear about what i include in-character. that said, i understand that the line can get quite blurry at times, so don't be afraid to ask me to clarify stuff or to tell me to stop doing a bit. i'll also be doing the same.

ON SHIPPING: as of the moment, i am not interested in any romantic ships for bailu.

ON JOKES: please for the love of god do not call her a dragon loli or make any suggestive jokes about her. i trust that the people of this community aren't into that sort of humor but i still want to make it clear regardless.

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON CONTACT: as tumblr’s IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of gh’s discord server so you may also ping me there.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i’m starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i’ll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that’s not out of the question—i’m also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using “tw // (word)” as a tag. if you have any triggers you’d like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under “hsr spoilers”

ON HYV GAMES: i am not as familiar with genshin or honkai impact 3rd as i am with honkai star rail. i will defer to my partners for information but please be patient with me if i have lapses in the lore! i would also appreciate it if you could gently correct me on whatever i may get wrong.

PORTRAYAL NOTES (SPOILER FREE)

updated as of the current patch of hsr, that being 2.5. everything is also based on the english localization of hsr. i am not familiar with any mistranslations, but i know there must be some—let me know if there's something important i've missed!

i portray bailu as being the human equivalent of 12 years old despite her many years of age. may be subject to change if she gets an older form (sp bailu, anyone?)

bailu is a character whose freedom is very restrained, so for threads that take place outside of the luofu, always assume that she's escaped somehow and is evading capture. she's very eager to see the world—if there's a will, there's a way!

bailu's healing is based off of the systems of traditional chinese medicine, which i will reference often. do note that i'm still doing my research about it and while i have been exposed to the culture and to tcm itself, i still come from a different cultural context and may understand things wrong. please do let me know if this is the case, i would hate to misrepresent.

#LUNCH BREAK — ooc

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lost-in-wond3rland · 1 year ago

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Being on tumblr really just feels like being adrift in the middle of the ocean

It really does feel like no one else is on this hell site which is kind of great because I never feel bad about shit posting lol I don't think I've done anything BUT shit post about my current hyper fixations in YEARS lol (case and point, me re-blogging a bunch of red white and royal blue posts the other day because I finished reading the book and would like the movie now please-)

I forgot I used to write on here sometimes, or that I even could. Was it ever anything substantial? Nah. Just musings of a usually v depressed and out of wack teenager.

I am now a slightly less depressed out of wack adult lmao

All this to say, read at your own whim or risk or whatever. It's the internet dude, do what you want.

I'm starting grad school in a little over a month, and I know people talk about how daunting that is all the time. But what I haven't really seen is people talking about going into a program that has n o t h i n g to do with your BA. I'm essentially doing a bit of a 180 with my studies, and where everyone else has loads of experience, and knowledge, and is just so stupid fucking smart, I...

Well, that's just it, isn't it? The trail off. The ... .

Not to say (among other things) that I'm not "smart" per-say. I'm not dumb, I know that. But these people? Mannnnn, you guys should hear and see some of these people. It is nothing short of terrifying.

I've been feeling very Elle Woods in her "coming here was a mistake" era lately. But when I try to explain that, it's usually the same "don't get intimated!" "you're all just starting!" "you're going to be fine!" etceteras etceteras. Not necessarily untrue, but not necessarily true either.

I'm going into a program where I am leaps and bounds behind literally everyone. People older than me, people younger than me, doesn't matter. And it feels like as hard as I work, I'm always missing something. Always 10, 15, 20, 100 steps behind everyone else. We just had a month of an online intensive orientation where we were interacting, and talking on discussion boards, and doing homework... And somehow, I still cant get everything fully right. Down to choosing the wrong kind of photo to go on my fucking introduction slide. Like come on! Seriously!? I can't even get that right? It's...

Yeah. It's.

So here I am, sitting on my bed, with my smart lights set to purple, in a too big Spider-Man cardigan, with a Taylor Swift lofi playlist going on youtube, contemplating yet again how the fuck I got here.

I made the joke to my mom that I was just the diversity pick. She didn't find that nearly as funny as I did. I digress.

We're... working on it. Kind of, at least. Pretending to, more accurately.

I just feel... like I'm in a constant state of having to prove myself, because nothing is ever enough. Nothing has ever been enough. I have worked so hard to the point where I have been on the brink of passing out before and even that still was not fucking enough.

Enough for who? For me? For my parents? For the metaphorical "them"? For anyone? I don't know. All of the above?

For that, I have no concrete answer and yet piles and piles and piles of evidence showing that nothing has in fact ever been enough.

I'm complaining too much, aren't I? I know it's not. World ending. There are bigger things. "People are dying Kim!" I know (also no, my name is not Kim, please understand the reference I'm begging lol).

Just some casual almost 9pm thoughts I guess.

I have work tomorrow, had the day off today. I started a new job and of course that happened at the same time as the online intensive so maybe that exasperated all these feelings since I really have had not a goddamn clue as to what has been happening for almost a month now but. I digress. But the job is going pretty okay. Slowly, I've been able to start to figure that out. And I somehow made it to the Eras Tour this weekend which was mind meltingly amazing. So I shouldn't complain. I really don't have anything to complain about at all.

And yet.

Well, I'm gonna fuck off and read some fanfic now. If for whatever reason someone tortured themselves and made it to the end, whats your fic poison of choice lately? I've been reading loads of Irondad & Spiderson fics. Give me Peter "I take care of everyone but don't know how to take care of myself because I think I'm fine" Parker and Tony "100% has a heart and just wants his idiot pseudo son to realize it's okay for people to help you" Stark all day.

...does that reveal too much? Eh. It's fine, I'm fine.

-Seven

07.24.2023

#Seven diaries #midnight thoughts #at 9pm #grad school bullshit #yes I will talk to myself in the tags leave me alone

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maybege · 2 years ago

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End Credits

Summary: You and Boba start your new life together. (Part 14 of Midnight Special)

Pairing: hot dad!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: lots of fluff, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, cream pie, more fluff, lots of domesticity

Finishing up a story is always something that encourages you to look back on the journey that this story took. Midnight Special is a story that originated on the old blog – a few asks joking around about sleeping with a hot stranger who turns out to be your friend’s dad – and what started out with a smutty one shot in March 2021 quickly turned into what was meant to be a short and filthy story about the carnal adventures with hot dad!Boba which in turn morphed into a 14 part story (+1 alternative ending) that felt very real, raw and emotional to write. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading and supporting this story, whether you were here form the very start or joined when a few chapters were already out. It truly means the world to me that I got to share this with you.

Special thanks go out to @ayybtch because Sam truly is the reason that Midnight Special is the way it is: a series, a love story, and so very hot at times. Thank you, Sam, for always letting me gush about hot dad!Boba, listening to my ideas and never being shy to bring in your own. This story would not exist without you and I am forever indebted to you. Thank you.

Without further ado, here is the very last part of Midnight Special.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“You can put that here,” you instructed the movers, watching them with hawk eyes as they carried your most precious possession to the empty spot in the living room, “Yes, that is perfect!”

The men nodded, filing out of the house and back to the truck where some of the last boxes were still stored. You took the chance to look at your couch in Boba’s living room – now your living room. There had been this irrational fear that maybe the things wouldn’t fit together, that somehow there would be a divine sign to warn you that what you had was not going to last.

But the couch looked great in that spot and you knew the old one had found a great second home in Rob’s and Poppy’s garage.

“It already looks much more comfortable,” Boba stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You allowed yourself to get distracted for a minute, admiring his bare forearms in the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel. He had taken the day off today, preparing the house for your very official move-in day and scouring through the garage in search of tools. He looked absolutely delectable, you found, with his dark shirt, stained jeans and the little bit of belly that had his shirt stretch a bit wider.

“Like what you see, princess?” he grinned smugly and you swore he was flexing his bicep just to tease you.

“Very much,” you quipped, turning on your heels, “now, excuse me, I need to – oh!”

“Not so fast,” he growled in your ear, pulling you against his chest, “The movers are on their lunch break, in case you missed it, and I,” he pressed a kiss against your neck, “am hungry for something else entirely.”

His words made goosebumps erupt all over your skin and you leaned back into him, your hands landing on his broad ones. It seemed so long since you had felt his touch.

You had taken a week off work in preparation for the move and while that usually meant that you could spend much more time with your boyfriend, you had spent more time in your old apartment packing everything up than at home. And with Boba still at work, you hardly saw him anyway, both of you too exhausted to really talk and instead just curling into each other and enjoying a few blissful hours of sleep.

Boba’s mouth landed on your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling down the thin strap of your summer dress. “Do you know what this does to me?” he mumbled against you, “Seeing you waltz around in that skimpy little dress, I swear if you bend over one more time –“

“Boba,” you gasped, wiggling your ass against the prominent bulge in his jeans, “We don’t have time.”

“Oh, I know,” he chuckled, his big hands cupping your chest and you sighed dreamily, letting his fingers play with your nipples, “I am just warning you what you’re in for when all of this is done.”

“You think we can bribe them to skip lunch?” you joked, tilting your head to the side to give him more access.

“Patience, little one,” he whispered against your skin, “Patience.”

It was pitch dark by the time everything was unloaded, unpacked and put together in the living spaces. (The office was another story altogether that you would tackle the next few days, you had decided.) Having dropped off the keys at your landlord’s office, you were now sitting on your new couch, a pizza carton open on the coffee table and a canned cocktail in your hand.

“To our new home,” Boba said, bumping his beer against yours. He was sitting next to you, his entire side pressed against yours, comfortably warm.

“To our new home.”

You took a sip, letting the sickly sweet and fruity taste wash over your tongue before raising the cheesy slice of pizza to your mouth again. Your body was thrumming with the kind of exhaustion that guaranteed a good night’s sleep. The day had been so full of work but now you could see that all of it had paid off, most furniture pieces had found their new home and Boba had started sorting through the maps he wanted to put on the walls.

In the background, the TV was muted but you caught the familiar frames of an earlier The Nanny episode, smiling at Fran Fine’s loveable antics.

It was quiet and peaceful and for the first time in a long time, you felt fully settled. This was your home with Boba. This was your life with Boba.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man next to you slung his arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, resting your cheek on his shoulders.

“What are you thinking?” you asked quietly, closing your eyes when his fingertips brushed over the dip between shoulder and neck.

“How happy I am,” he replied just as quiet and you could feel his body moving under yours with each breath, “How much I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smiled, the tip of your nose brushing over the stubble on his jaw, “I love you so much.”

* Two weeks later, you were putting up laundry in the garden when you felt someone behind you.

You turned around, half expecting to see Poppy as the older women liked to come over and chat with you. Sometimes she brought a cup of coffee over, sitting down with you on the patio. You were so grateful for her kind presence, her small talk keeping you grounded and making you feel accepted when you were still very much dealing with the big life adjustment of the past few weeks.

But it was not Poppy that stood there behind you, a happy smile on her face. It was Nat.

She looked like she always did. Like the last few weeks had not happened at all and it made you angry and sad because you felt like her words had left scars all over you and here she was, looking nervous, yes, but not hurt.

“Hey,” she greeted and you were taken aback by how shy she sounded. Maybe your initial impression had been wrong.

“Boba is not here,” you managed to bring out, anxiety bubbling up because you could not take another confrontation. You simply couldn’t.

“I know,” she said, “I wanted to talk to you. Do you, uh, do you have a minute?”

You nodded.

“I wanted to apologize,” she whispered, “Truly. For my behaviour these last few weeks. It, uh,” she looked around uncomfortably, shuffling her feet, “It wasn’t fair to you or – or my dad. I was hurt and felt betrayed and – and to be honest, when I look back, I don’t – I don’t recognize myself anymore. I think maybe … when I figured out it was him that you had been meeting and that both of you knew, I just … it felt like you were doing it to play me a fool and I – I wanted you to know what that felt like. I know that’s stupid now, of course. The truth is,” she swallowed thickly, tears in her eyes, “I am so sorry. For everything. And I hope that you can forgive me one day because I … I miss you. I miss being friends with you and having lunch with you and telling you all about Will and – and – and I miss you in my life and I am so happy, truly, for both of you. Just … just don’t tell me gross stuff about my dad, please?”

You laughed, out a sob, tears already rolling down your cheeks.

“I can totally do that,” you cried, “And I’m sorry, too. We should have told you much earlier. I so understand how betrayed you must have felt and we never,” you hiccupped, “We never wanted to hurt you, I swear.”

“Okay,” she nodded, cheeks ruddy from tears and as if both of you thought the same thing, you fell into each other’s arms.

Hugging your friend for the first time in what felt like a decade, immense amounts of relief coursed through you. Like you were now able to heal the hurt that had been left between the two of you and carefully move past it.

“Do – would you like to come in for a coffee?” you offered, “I, uh, I don’t know if you know but –“

“You moved in, yeah,” she nodded, sniffling, “My mom told me. And a coffee sounds great.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, the idea of having to tell her of this drastic life change frightening you beyond belief. But now it was taken care of already. She knew. And she wouldn’t be here if she couldn’t accept that as well.

The walk up to the house was quiet and you tried to calm your nerves, opening the sliding door for Nat to step in first. It will be fine. It will be fine. It will be fine.

“No way,” she called, “This looks great?!”

“You think?” you asked shyly, still a little nervous about having her here, “I, uh, well, I did some changes when we moved in together. We – we wanted to make it our own.”

She looked at you, slightly raising her eyebrow and you smiled, knowing she was serious.

“It looks amazing,” she said, “Care to show me?”

“You want to?” you asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. You loved redecorating and other than Boba there had been no one in the house until now. Now it was Nat, your best friend, and you could not wait to show her all of your ideas.

“You kidding?” she laughed, “Mom and dad tried to convince him to hang up his maps for years. He was always too shy to display them. And finally, here they are!”

Hearing Boba being called shy made you laugh. That really wasn’t an adjective you would have chosen for him, especially the first few times you had met him. Now, though, you kind of understood what she meant. Even a man as self-assured as Boba had his weaknesses. And his maps were one of them.

“Well, they were collecting dust in the office,” you shrugged, motioning to a few of the frames you had brought from your old apartment, “And they fit so well with all the travel prints, this is the perfect place for them to be admired.”

“And you repainted,” she pointed to the kitchen, “I love that colour.”

Feeling more confident, you nodded. “Yeah, we also got rid of that old couch and, uh, put mine there instead. It really fits the space a lot better and it’s bigger which is nice for guests.”

You got the coffee machine going, getting two cups from the cabinets as Nat settled at the kitchen island, looking around curiously. She seemed relaxed, not as tense as the last few weeks and you took comfort in the fact that she was just as relieved as you.

“So, we just keep talking about me,” you mentioned, pushing the full cup towards here, “But what’s been going on with you? Any news?”

She cucked her head, an involuntary smile on her face that made you lean forward curiously, “Tell me more.”

“Do you remember Will?” she asked cautiously, “From the vacation?”

“Do I remember him?” you asked, “I remember someone buying a bathing suit specifically to impress him.”

“Oh, shut up” she hushed you, taking a sip from her coffee to hide her grin.

“So, I gather it’s been going well with him?” you inquired, wriggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“Very well, actually,” she indulged you, grinning over her cup like it kept the biggest secrets in the world, “We’re exclusive now.”

She looked at you and before you knew it, you were both squealing, throwing your arms around each other like you were in a 90s sitcom. “I’m so happy for you!” you laughed out, “This is amazing, Nat!”

“It is!” she screeched, “You should have seen him when he asked me, he was so nervous!”

A car pulled up in front of the house and the conversation died down. Your heart skipped a beat when you recognized the model. After all, you had watched this car pull up on this driveway more times than you could count. “That’s dad,” Nat recognized and you both watched through the living room window as the older man arrived.

It was almost comical, seeing him get out of the car like normal and suddenly freezing in his step, presumably having spotted Nat’s car down the road. You had never seen him this fast, hurrying up the steps and storming into the house.

You could see the frown on his face from a mile away, the concern etched into the features of his face and even though you knew it was a false alarm, you couldn’t blame him, really, considering the last few times Nat had been in this house there had been major conflict situation that had left everyone distraught.

So, when he stood in the middle of the living room, still in his suit and, looking between both of you as if he was gauging the situation, Nat and you could only laugh. Which visibly confused him.

“That is not the welcome I was expecting,” you could hear him mumble through your giggles. But his body relaxed as he made his way towards you, pressing a quick kiss against your temple.

“It’s all right,” you assured him both you and Nat laughing through our tears, “It’s all right, Boba.”

“It really is, dad,” Nat grinned widely, looking at you and then back at him, “It really is.”

“I am glad to hear that,” he finally said, going around the island to hug his daughter and your heart clenched when you saw both of them holding onto each other tightly. You didn’t know who needed it more: Boba or Nat.

“Now,” the redhead sniffled, grinning so wide her cheeks dimpled just like his, “Will you tell us about your map collection?”

Boba groaned, “I should’ve known this is what happened when you get together again.”

“Do you think they will like me?”

“Honey, why are you so nervous?”

“Well, the last time someone found out about me and Boba, things didn’t exactly go smoothly, now did they?”

Nat winced, her eyes still focused on where she was trying to get her earrings to hold. “That really wasn’t one of my best moments. I am so sorry.”

You sighed, fiddling with the bow of your dress. “I do. I just … These are all of his friends and they were so nice last time and what if they think I am weird now?”

“Look,” she turned her head, “They adored you during the vacation. And they adore my dad, they want nothing but the best for him. And you,” she pointed her finger at you, “are the best for him. If anything, they’ll thank you for getting him so happy all the time.”

You smiled, hearing Nat talk about your relationship with Boba in such a positive way was not something you had ever expected to happen after how things had initially gone. But now that she said these things, she seemed to be your #1 supporter and it warmed your heart every single time.

Now with the end of summer and the warm weather quickly approaching, the local tradition seemed to be having a giant bonfire BBQ in the garden and Boba had suggested it as the perfect first event for you two to attend together as a couple. And while you agreed, you were also a teeny tiny bit anxious about it all.

“Ah, there you are!” Poppy’s head appeared, “Will, was looking for you, Nat, do you know where your father put the cooler by any chance?”

“Driveway,” you replied, “I think Boba and Rob wanted to put it there for when Will comes back from the store.”

“Ah, thanks!” the older woman smiled, “And you look lovely, by the way!”

You smiled back, your fingers still fighting with the wretched wrap dress you may have bought just for this occasion.

To say that you were nervous would be an understatement.

“Come on,” Nat sighed, helping you adjust the bow for you, “I know you are nervous but they will love you. I mean, you already know most of them anyway!”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle your thoughts. Of course, she was right – Nat often was – and you also needed to remember that Boba had already told his friends. They knew. This was just the first time you would meet them as the girlfriend.

Oh, stars.

Nat clicked her tongue, “I know that face and the best way to help you is going out there right now. There are already some of his friends there, I am sure it will be tons better when you’ve greeted them.”

“Are you sure?” you hated how small your voice sounded.

“I promise,” she replied, tugging on your hand, “Now come on, I have to make sure Will doesn’t mix up the salads!”

The wide garden space between your house and Poppy and Rob’s was already filled with a good amount of people. You spotted Will and Poppy at the little buffet, setting everything up, when you and Nat emerged from your house. It was still warm enough that you could be out barefoot and you were relieved to see that you were not the only one who had decided to ditch the shoes in order to feel the soft grass under your toes.

Boba was standing with two men at the bonfire, a beer in his hand as he talked with them. You remembered seeing them before, one of them a single dad to an absolutely adorable kid and the other one just sheer gigantic.

Nat nodded at you encouragingly and you smiled (even if it wavered a little) as you made your way towards him. The hem of your light dress was swirling around your calves and you focused on taking one step at a time, looking at the way his face moved when he talked, how he gestured with his free hand, how he turned when he spotted you from the corner of his eye, how he beamed at you.

“Hey, love,” he greeted you, his eyes roaming over your figure, “There you are.”

His thick arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss and for a moment you forgot all the people around you. It was instinct, the way your mouth moved against his and how your hands came up to settle on his shoulders. He was warm against you, warm and solid and so affectionate, it made your heart melt.

“Finally, we get to meet the woman who put that smile on you!”

You flinched, pulling away from him in embarrassment at having been caught so … so in love. Boba just smiled, seemingly unbothered by the teasing comment his tall friend made and instead just pulled you closer.

“These are two of my friends from work,” he introduced you, “This is Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” the bigger of the two greeted you with a grin, holding out his hand for you to shake.

Finally? You eyed Boba, surprised, while shaking Paz’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

Din only nodded at you before picking up a child that had been just been about to race by. “Grogu,” he warned the boy, “How many times have I told you not to run near the fire?”

The dark-haired boy showed a toothy grin, “Sorry, Dad?”

Boba’s arm tightened around your waist and you looked up at him.

“You want a beer?” he asked, nodding to where the cooler had been set up, “Paz needs to get one, maybe we could all sit down?”

“Hell yeah,” the large man rumbled, his hand landing on your shoulder in a friendly pat, “Let’s go sit down, I am starving.”

You followed Boba and his friend, watching the way he turned back to look at you and smile. Maybe it would all work out.

“Oh fuck,” you hissed, throwing your head back, missing the wall by mere millimetres.

“Quiet,” Boba warned you in the dark, two of his finger pushing into your open mouth, “Don’t want to wake everyone up now, do we?”

You shook your head quickly, cheeks hollowing around his thick digits as his cock thrust into you again and again.

It was your first vacation with all of them since Boba had introduced you as his girlfriend and while all of them had taken it well, you still had been nervous about spending two weeks in a house with them. But, like most times in the last year, your worries had been unfounded.

If anything, all of it was so much easier now that it was clear you were with Boba. You had been allocated a room together, the same one he had had last year with the hot tub just a few steps away. You had even driven here together, making a little mini road trip and spending the night in a small boutique hotel you had found online.

Truly, it was even better than last year. The sun was warm, the water was cool, and the people you were here with were so nice and supportive, it felt like you had been part of the group for much longer already.

But that still did not mean you wanted them to wake up from how good Boba was fucking you. He was lying behind you, holding your leg with one arm while the other hand was busy filling your mouth, his fingers thrusting down your tongue the way his cock was thrusting into your cunt.

You whined around him, your walls clamping down. Wet sounds echoed in the small room and you were sure your inner thighs were a mess with how wet you were.

Busy sucking on his fingers, you tried to follow them when he pulled them out of your mouth, chasing the salty taste of his skin. Boba chuckled, quickly pulling out of you.

“On all fours, princess,” he instructed gently, his hands pulling your hips up until you followed his movements, “Spread them for me, there we go – good girl.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing.

“It feels so good, Boba,” you gasped, pressing your chest down, opening yourself up to him, “Please fuck me, please please please, I need –“

“And here I wanted to see your pretty tits swing,” he teased you, positioning himself behind you. The tip of him rubbed along your dripping folds and you inhaled sharply, rocking back against him to get him inside you again.

“Can you pinch your nipple for me?” he panted, his chest brushing against your back as he slowly pushed inside you, filling you to the brim, “Yeah, can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh”, you were mind- and boneless at this point, Boba’s deep voice coaxing you to slip your hand between your chest and the blanket, your fingertip running over your nipple again and again, “Please don’t stop, sir.”

“I won’t,” he assured you, his lips brushing you’re your ear as his hips pulled back only to slam back against yours, “Stars, you are so tight like this, little one, you just love being filled, hm?”

You nodded, unable to form words as he rubbed against a spot that made you shudder in the best way. The bedding bunched under your knees, Boba’s thrusts strong enough to push you up and down on the soft mattress.

“Love it,” you gasped, “Love your cock, Boba, p-please, I want –“

“I know what you want,” he grunted, his fingers tightening on your hip before he snuck one down between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit, “I give you what you need, don’t I? Don’t I take good care of your little pussy, princess?”

You babbled, rocking back against him frantically, chasing that feeling of pure euphoria that seems to course through your veins. Your core tightened, your pussy clenching around his thick shaft.

He chuckled, “I know I do, little one. Now you just need to come for me, hm? Just come all around my cock, princess, soak me.”

His words edged you on and with his fingertips rubbing over your clit, you felt the first wave wash over you, your whole body sinking into the bedding. “Fuck,” he groaned, leaning down to muffle his moans against your shoulder while he pushed into you again and again.

“Come inside me,” you whimpered, your hand searching until you felt the skin of his thigh under your fingertips, squeezing encouragingly, “Please come inside me, sir.”

You weren’t even sure if he heard you speak when his hand tightened on your hip, digging into the soft flesh as his movements sped up until he buried himself in you as deeply as he could. Hot spurts of come filled you and you sighed.

“Thank you for coming inside me, sir,” you mumbled, turning around with a drowsy grin to kiss him.

Boba was still above you, his chest heaving as he came down from his high. With the moonlight streaming in from outside, you could see the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. He leant down, carefully resting his entire body on yours and kissing you.

You could feel his come running down between your thighs but you did not care when you could feel his cheeks stretch under your fingertips with his grin. “I love you,” he rumbled, his kisses raining down on your mouth and cheeks and neck, “This is my favourite vacation I’ve ever taken.”

You could only agree.

“Say cheese!”

“Cheese!” you grinned, frowning when you didn’t hear another voice joining you.

“You have to say it too, you know?”

Boba looked at you so softly it made your heart ache. His arm was heavy around your shoulder and you felt the warm sunshine on your back. “Sorry, princess,” he rumbled, leaning closer to you, “I’ll try better next time.”

He turned back to Nat, “Do we need to take a second one?”

The redhead grinned, shaking the phone in her hand. “No need,” she said, “You two are sweeter than Mom and Dad on V-day.”

You laughed, your cheeks filling with blood at the compliment. But you would take her joking about you looking lovesick any day over the madness she had felt at first.

“I can live with that,” Boba smiled, his hand gliding from your shoulder down your back before taking your hand, tugging you with him to the group.

“Do you guys want one?” you asked Nat when you took your phone back, “A new phone background perhaps?”

“That’d be great,” she smiled, turning to her boyfriend, “C’mon, Will, picture time!”

Will made his way across the sand, holding up his hand to cover his eyes from the sun as he grinned widely at you both. “Whatever my queen demands.”

You took a picture of them just like she had done of you two, both of them smiling in the sun, wearing their beachy outfits as the rest of the travel party prepared to get back to the cars and back to the house.

Boba was waiting for you by the car, holding the door open as you skipped across the sandy parking lot. “Thank you,” you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “Such a gentleman.”

“Only for my lady,” he replied jokingly, closing the door for you.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat as you enjoyed the reprieve from the beating sun. Thank the stars for whoever had invented ACs.

Boba walked around the car, a gust of hot wind following him when he sat down in the driver’s seat. After a whole week on holiday, he looked relaxed and rested, his wide smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. His warm hand landed on your knee as he started the car.

“Nat was right when she said this beach is amazing,” you commented, watching the long stretches of sand pass by, “Now I understand why she was so sad I couldn’t see it last year.”

“Even better that you could see it now,” he teased, “Without a migraine and with your very handsome boyfriend.”

“Very handsome, you say?” you grinned.

His fingers on your knee flexed, gently trailing upwards until he brushed the inside of your thigh. “Extremely handsome,” he nodded, “And very much in love with you.”

“Are we redecorating the fridge again?”

You hummed, holding up two leaflets. “I want that vacation picture to find its place,” you explained, “Which means that one takeout menu has to go – Greek or Thai.”

It was your favourite picture of the two of you, you smiling into the camera, the “cheese!” still on your lips while Boba with his arm around you wasn’t looking at Nat at all. He was looking at you, his gaze so in love, even you could see it. And it made you feel all kinds of warm.

Seeing it on the fridge, made everything so real, so domestic, you couldn’t wait.

“I vote the Thai one,” he rumbled, “I’m fond of that Greek place.”

It did not escape your notice that that was the one where you had eaten from during your motel dates and as you smiled knowingly at him, he leant away from marinating the meat to press a long kiss to your lips.

You hummed, opening your mouth willingly even when he stepped away just a second later. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are even more touchy than usual,” you said, eyeing the way his hands paused his work.

But Boba was not the master of deflection for nothing. “Just wait until I’m done with this and I’ll show you how touchy I can be,” he growled, eyes mustering you up and down in a way that had you feel a little warmer.

“The others will be here any minute,” you reminded him, letting the leaflet fall into the bin, “We have no time for – for –“

Boba raised his eyebrows expectantly, clearly amused at your attempt to be responsible. “No time? You know all I need is five minutes with you in a closet to have you come on my fingers.”

Your cheeks filled with heat as you tried to avert his eyes. How could this man have such power over you just with his words?

“I do know that,” you acquiesced, stepping closer to him. You caught a whiff of his cologne, the familiar scent wafting in your nose. “But this is the first time we are hosting the bonfire together and it is important to me that we make a good impression.”

The yearly bonfire. Last year that had been when Boba had introduced you to everyone as his partner, the night ending with lots of booze and lots of laughter and quiet kisses in your bed.

And this year, Poppy and Rob had asked if it would be okay if you were the ones to host it since they just got back from vacation and, honoured that they had even considered it, you had said yes. Which meant that your living room was now the buffet headquarters and Boba had gotten out his family marinade recipe for the best BBQ results.

He looked like he wanted to say something but before any words could leave his mouth, the front door opened and you could hear familiar voices.

“Long time, no see!” the tall man greeted you, holding out a pie, “And apple pie as requested!”

“Hi Will,” you greeted the man, giving him a hug before taking the offered dish from his hands, “Thanks!”

“Family recipe,” he explained proudly.

“It is so good,” Nat nodded, her arms laden with salad dishes and a paper bag full of bread, “Even though our kitchen is a mess now.”

“Talking about messes,” Boba grunted, walking over the sink, “Will, could you take that plate to the grill, please? My hands are a mess.”

“Sure thing,” Will grinned, taking out the plate as requested while Boba washed his hands, “This is gonna be so much fun!”

Will was right. The night was a lot of fun.

As the night cooled down, everyone gathered around the bonfire and Boba did not wait long to pull you into his lap. “You have cleaned up enough,” he rumbled, “Let it wait until morning when I can help you. You need to relax now.”

Your body relaxed against his and you pulled your cardigan closer, trying to trap the warmth against the front of your body while you felt his heat against your back.

But Boba seemed to have something different in mind.

“Let’s play a game,” he whispered into your ear, “It’s been a long time since we played one.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Each one of us says something that is completely honest,” he suggested and you smiled. This was a very familiar game, the one you had played that very first night you had met. The one that had started your life together.

“Yeah?” you asked him cheekily, leaning back into his chest as you watched Nat enthusiastically retell one of her. Will was gazing at her, completely enraptured by his girlfriend and you were so happy that she had a partner who appreciated her as much as she deserved. “You start.”

“If I’m completely honest,” he rumbled, “there’s this woman that I really like. Met her in a bar one and a half years ago and I never stopped thinking about her since.”

You smiled, tilting your head to the side so you could feel his stubble on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“If I’m completely honest,” you replied, humming when he pressed a kiss behind your ear, “There is this man that I am utterly in love with.”

“Utterly, huh?” he teased you and you giggled.

“Yeah, he is the best man I ever met,” you continued, your fingers playing with his hands, “And I hope he knows how grateful I am for him in my life.”

Boba hummed, silent for a while until you thought that the game was over already. But he also did not seem too engaged in the conversations that were going on around you. You knew him long enough now to know when he was in thought, and he really was.

Just when you were about to ask him what was going on, you could feel him shift, his belly and chest expanding against your back as he took a deep breath.

“If I’m completely honest,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands wrapped around you, “I could see myself spending the rest of my life with her.”

Your heart stood still.

Was this what you thought it was? Was this what he truly wanted?

Tears filled your eyes and you gulped for breath as felt like a thousand butterflies were dancing the rumba in your stomach. Boba wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted to marry you.

And stars, did you want to marry him.

“What do you say?” he asked, a hitch in his breath letting you know that he was not as confident as he often seemed, “Will you marry me, princess?”

The emotions were so overpowering you could only nod, your hands tensing on his. His fingers came up to turn your chin so you could see him. The warm glow of the bonfire, the crinkles next to his eyes as he smiled so brightly and so proudly you could only reciprocate. Your heart beat so far in your chest you hardly knew what to do. This would be your secret for a while, enjoying the before you shared it with your friends and families.

Boba pulled you in for a lingering kiss. It was soft and loving and when his tongue brushed over your bottom lip ever so slightly, it sent shivers down your spine. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and you cupped the back of his neck, moving your lips against his.

“Ugh, I hate couples!” Nat shouted from across the fire and the group laughed.

Boba chuckled against your lips but as you pulled away from him with a smile, turning your attention back to the people all around you, his arm imperceptibly tightened, keeping you close. “I hope you know you just made me the happiest man on earth,” he whispered against the nape of your neck, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered, just as quietly, and as you looked around, Nat grinning at you, Will’s arm around her shoulders, the realization set in that this was only the first of many bonfires you would attend together.

And that that warm feeling in your chest would now accompany you forever.

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut #hot dad!boba vibes

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flightless-rising · 3 years ago

Text

Made a new Flight Rising iceberg and also wrote an explanation.. man, this took way longer than it should have.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy :D

Iceberg explanation

( If there are any mistakes please let me know and I’ll edit this asap. Also, English isn't my first language so please forgive me for any grammatical errors)

EDIT 28/06: Added some new info! Thanks to everyone who tagged and responded with new stuff to add, I really appreciate it!

The Sky

Naomi

Back in the day, whenever you bought or sold something on the auction house a message would show up in your inbox confirming the transaction. These messages were sent by one of the dragon couriers: Pearl, Spitfire or Edgar.

On January 2016, a strange glitch occurred that replaced the images and names of couriers with the ones of a female fae named “Naomi”.

It goes deeper than that, though: if you looked up her name in the user search menu, a clan would pop up with over 15 million dragons.

It was quickly discovered that all exalted dragons had somehow become part of her clan. Naomi herself apparently didn’t exist, and clicking on her page redirected to an error page. This was later fixed and the original Naomi page can be now visited.

What exactly caused this glitch is still a mystery and today Naomi is still a well-known piece of Flight Rising history.

Missing Tidelord

In the official lore, the deity of the water flight disappeared in early 2018, as described in the short story “Hear Today, Gone Tomorrow”.

In the follow up story (Mixed Elements) posted in April of the next year it is confirmed that the Tidelord is still missing, but alive. This coincides with the fact that the Tidelord account hasn’t made any forum posts aside from festival announcements.

Emperors

Emperors are a type of unobtainable dragon that are formed when several Imperial corpses are left in close proximity to each other, which then fuse forming a multi-headed chimera.

Emperors are described in the lore as having an animal-like behavior and destroying everything in sight. They are extremely difficult to kill, which is the reason why in-universe Imperials have such strange burial rites.

An emperor named Luminax is first described in the Raising a Family short story, and their sprite can be seen walking around on the world map.

The Surface

Old color wheel

Originally, there were only 67 available colors for dragons. On June 8th 2016, 110 more colors were added, meaning that currently there are a total of 177 colors available.

When making a custom progenitor dragon, it is only possible to choose among the 67 original colors because it would be otherwise unfair for those who made their account before the new colors were added.

Imperial breed scrolls

Imperial breed change scrolls are one of, if not the most, rare type of item on the site. They were given only to those who pledged 30 dollars or more on the original Flight Rising kickstarter.

At the time, this was the only way of obtaining an Imperial dragon, which meant that the breed as a whole was pretty valuable. Now that Imperials are abundant this is no longer the case, but First generation Imperials are still extremely sought and probably the most expensive type of dragon on the site.

There were also other items that were only given to Kickstarted backers, namely Skycats, Bonefiend, Golden Idol and Cogfrog familiars, and those are also pretty much impossible to obtain.

Baldwin breed change

When Baldwin was introduced in 2015 he was originally a Pearlcatcher. On September 14th of 2016 however his site art started to gradually change, until his transformation was completed five days later.

In-universe, Baldwin started to change after a lightning strike hit his cauldron during an experiment, which made him slowly mutate into the breed we now know as Bogsneaks.

Trans Fiona

When Fiona was added as a trading post dragon people speculated that she was trans, because the female pose for Skydancers only displays two antennae, while the male one has four.

Since Fiona has four antennae in her site art, many wondered whether it was an oversight or actually intended. Aequorin later confirmed in a forum thread that Fiona is indeed trans.

Boolean

Speaking of rare items, the Boolean familiar was only given to a handful of Flight rising beta testers and as such is extremely rare and valuable.

Plaguebringer coli team

On the Plaguebringer’s page she is listed as being part of a coliseum team.

As of now we have no clue as to why this is, and even more strangely she is the only deity that does this.

Boston & Hope

This story is a bit complicated. I’ve scoured the forums in search of info but it seems like there are still some pieces missing. I’ll try my best to explain anyway.

So, for a long while the Lightweaver was the only deity that had other dragons aside from herself in her lair: these dragons were a Spiral named Boston and a Tundra named Hope. Strangely, they were both Earth dragons and apparently have been there since the beginning (?). When asked why (this happened back when deities would interact on the forums) the Lightweaver responded that they were having a dinner party together.

In August 2014 during a pretty heated dominance battle between Shadow and Light Boston and Hope disappeared from the Lightweaver’s lair.

The Shadowbinder now had them, and both their elements were alsochanged to Shadow. The two deities acknowledged this and changed their broadcast messages accordingly.

If I had to guess this was some kind of inside joke that the admins had, although some people got angry that the Shadowbinder now had both Hope and Boston. Some time later(?) Boston was returned to the Lightweaver and for some reason his element was changed to wind.

I don’t have any more info on the matter but if some of you do I would appreciate it if you tell me.

Shallow Waters

Eyepocalypse

On June 8th 2018 eye type variants were introduced. This update was pretty controversial for a bunch of reasons, and the topic is still discussed today. The majority of people(?) seemed to be upset by the fact the “best” eye types (primarily goat, primal and multi-gaze) could only be displayed on dragons that were born with them, and the fact that every dragon born prior to the update couldn’t have these eye types at all displeased a lot of users.

Another problem was the fact that most of the non-special eye types (i.e the only ones that could be applied to already existing dragons using a vial of Scattersight) were not clearly visible on the grand majority of adult dragons.

A smaller(?) complaint was that two of the primal eye types, Shadow and Plague, were seen as kind of disturbing by some people.

Three years later staff attempted to fix this issue by adding Eye type vials for every available eye type. This resulted in a market crash for special eye typed dragons, as now these eye types could be applied to any dragon. The value of Scattersights also tanked, and the people bought them and hadn’t used them yet lost money as now they were infinitely less useful.

EDIT 28/06: Goat isn’t actually obtainable via breeding, faceted is. Bad mistake on my part.

Also, Scattersights were given away freely by Galore on Flight Rising’s fifth anniversary in 2018 and could not be bought afterwards. I admit that I thought people could be able to buy Scattersights due to how upset people were that the value went down, but whatever.

Courier Breed

The courier dragons (Edgar, Spitfire, and Pearl) are part of an exclusive dragon breed that is currently unobtainable. Even though their eye color still reflects the flight they were born in, in-universe they are considered to be “neutral” and they are granted free access to all domains. This raises the question as to which deity created them, as every other dragon breed (Bogsneaks being the only exception) has been created by one of The Eleven.

Multiaccounting

According to the site’s terms of service, no one is allowed to have more than one account. This is pretty standard for pet sites, as having multiple accounts grants unfair advantages and can mess up the site economy. This doesn’t completely stop people for having more than one account, and the practice as a whole is called “Multiaccounting” or “having multis”.

Some people only do this to have multiple clans or reboot their account without deleting their old one. They mostly do no harm but it is reasonable that the site wouldn’t allow this because of how easy it is exploit.

The real harm of multis comes from a practice called “funneling” which is when someone creates multiple accounts only for the purpose of giving items to their main account. This practice violates the game’s rules and can result in a ban. Funneling is not limited to multiaccounting though, and having an account only to feed another is against the site’s rules whether or not the account in question belongs to another person or not.

Some people fear of being banned for multiaccounting even if they haven’t done so, especially if they share a computer with other people.

Purble

“he purble” is probably among the most famous Flight Rising memes.

In 2016(?) a rant was submitted to the original Dramarising blog by a very angry user that wanted to buy an XXX Purple Ridgeback back when triples were pretty expensive, but got beat by someone else.

I’m not going to copy paste it here because in my opinion it’s one of the funniest Flight Rising related posts ever and I don’t want to spoil the experience of reading it for the first time. You can find it pretty easily by searching it up.

Tert Picking

This is something that refaced recently, even though I’ve seen people talking about this for a while. Some people vividly remember being able to pick their custom progenitor’s tertiary color, even though the developers have made it clear that such thing would be impossible. This is without a doubt just one of those weird situations where a lot of people somehow remember the same thing wrong.

Still, it’s fascinating just how many people claim to remember doing picking their tert.

Swiftwings

Swiftwings were a dragon breed that was scrapped in development. The design was rejected because it didn’t fit the 2 arms 2 legs 2 wings format that every dragon design had to follow before the introduction of ancient breeds.

The reason for this rule is that otherwise it would mess up apparel placement. Although the concept was scrapped, echoes of the design were scattered throughout the site: for example, the empty dragon slots that were present prior to 2019 had the silhouette of a Swiftwings dragon. They are also mentioned in the April Fool’s update of 2018.

“Real” Lore dragons

Most people don’t know that some of the dragons featured on the lore stories are actually real, and you can visit their pages. This is the case for Tetra, Cracklinne, Velya, Liefa, Garote and Mirth, which are currently chilling in Aequorin’s lair.

All of the other dragons in the developers’ lairs are not canon and are used to test bugs and features on the site.

The Middle ground

True deity names

When the site first started the deities used to have actual names instead of titles. Some of these names were based off of the site founders’s usernames on other sites.

The names are the following:

Amogayvhi - Gladekeeper Xhaztol - Arcanist Rhenik - Tidelord Akiri - Flamecaller Thrage - Stormcatcher Undel - Shadowbinder Jhortanas - Plaguebringer Ghurab - Windsinger Artaios - Earthshaker Rhiow – Lightweaver

As you can tell, Xhaztol, Akiri, Thrage and Undel are the usernames of some of the admins of the site, and the flight they are a part of corresponds with the previous name of their deity.

No leg coatls

On January 16, 2015 an iconic thread was posted in the flight rising discussion forum, which displayed a photoshopped image of a coatl with its legs removed. Quickly the thread devolved into a general photoshop thread were people took official site art of dragons and modified it.

The thread was eventually locked due to spam and quote pyramids, but spiritual successors of the original “phoatlshop” thread still exist today.

Dress slot unlocking

A thing that a surprising amount of people don’t know is the fact that when buy an additional apparel slot, the slot opens for every dragon in your lair and not just the one you bought it on.

This is something I also discovered very recently and it’s kind of funny that so many people that have been on the site for very long don’t know this.

Clanbound scatterscrolls

I think the wiki explains it best, so I’ll just copy paste this here:

“Tri-Color Scatterscrolls suffered from an issue where they would only scatter a random range from colors 1-47 (white through sunshine) rather than 1-67 (white through rose). They have been fixed and are now functioning correctly with a random range within the 67 color set. The affected timeframe was from August 15th, 2013 until September 22nd, 2013. The admins allowed users who were unsatisfied with their bugged Tri-Color Scatterscrolls to receive the same amount of them back in the form of Clanbound Scatterscrolls to try scattering their own dragons again with the full color range.”

Beta Mirrors

Ever wondered why they’re called Mirrors?

According to Undel, the main artist of Flight Rising, mirrors originally were supposed to have every part of their body “mirrored”, meaning they had two sets of eyes, two pairs of wings, two tails, and so on.

This design ended up being too cluttered and looked weird shrunken down. The name was kept the same, even though the only mirrored part of the design are the eyes.

Dragons are evil

If you read the “Beastclans on the rise” lore bit, the dragons come across as… very evil, stealing territory from the beastclans when they have been living on Sornieth way longer than the dragons have and killing them for loot.

Furthermore, in the Bounty of the Elements lore bit the Beastclan rebellion guided by Talona is seen by the dragons as unreasonable and wrong even when in canon Beastclans are framed as the innocent party.

The Depths

Scroll of Divorce

In the alpha stage dragons were supposed to be monogamous and could only breed with the dragon they were “paired” with. To break their bond you had to use an item called “Scroll of Divorce” which even featured broken marriage rings in the art.

If I had to guess, this item and the concept as a whole were scrapped because the idea of dragons having “weddings” and needing to divorce before breeding with another dragon felt kind of weird, especially in a game targeted towards teens.

First Festival

The first Holiday festival in Flight rising history was the 2013 Brightshine Jubilee. The items that were available for this festival only are incredibly rare, particularily the Light Sprite which is one of the most valuable items on the site. Apart from that and the fact that the skincent contest only had 6 winners, not much is notable about it.

Offsite drama

Flight Rising has had its fair share of drama both on and off site, but due to the fact that it’s against the site’s rule to discuss user drama on the forums most of the notable drama happened off site (mainly tumblr).

Egg rot

Egg rot was a very early mechanic that was pretty quickly removed from the site. If you forgot to incubate your eggs, they would “rot” and no longer hatch.

It’s the reason why in the nesting grounds the text reads “Eggs healthy” and also the reason why on the stats section of the Account settings it says “Eggs discarded”. The mechanic was removed because it heavily punished casual players and the frequent downtimes of the site meant that even if someone logged in every day they could still have their eggs die.

Also, the images of egg rot look extremely cursed.

Pablo

From what I could gather, Pablo is a dragon which became somewhat popular after user “Desmondtiny” wrote a very long and detailed backstory of them being the Arcanist’s lost boyfriend.

I’m pretty sure it gues deeper than that but I couldn’t find any further information. As usual, if you know something more let me know.

Latest News

On November 12, 2014, a glitch(?) occurred that let anyone post in the Announcements thread. Anything that was posted went directly to the front page, which resulted in quite a bit of chaos.

This was fixed only half an hour later, but the screenshots people have from that time are extremely funny.

Lameforger

On the 2014 Flameforger’s festival announcement Undel accidentally misspelled “Flameforger” as “Lameforger”, which prompted the official account of the Flamecaller to respond aggressively. Lameforger is still jokingly used by users, even after the typo was fixed.

Festival of one (1)

On the first day of the 2014 Greenskeeper Gathering a glitch occurred which switched the site banner for the Starfall celebration banner instead of the Greenskeeper one.

It didn’t end there, in the coliseum Magical shards dropped instead of Bladed Flatleaves, even though skin chests dropped as normal(?).

The weirdest thing about it all was Joxar’s Space inventory, which didn’t display any items at all and had glitched dialogue.

The event was nicknamed by the fanbase “Festival of 1” and even the deity’s official accounts acknowledged the incident.

Vape Juice

As far as I know the original forum thread as been lost, but the vape juice fiasco will always remain cemented in Flight Rising History.

A company called Vape Daugz was making vape juice with Flight Rising dragons plastered on their packaging, completely violating the site’s policy.

The company’s site still exists, and browsing through their products I found that the products that previously had Flight Rising dragons on them still exist, but now feature completely different packaging.

I have no idea whether they changed the packaging spontaneously or staff did something about it.

I think there’s a potentially interesting story buried down there, but we’ll likely never the truth behind the Flight Rising vape juice.

The Abyss

Humans

There’s been some speculation over the years as to whether or not humans are canon in the Flight Rising universe. Some people believe that the “Mages” of the second age in the official lore are actually humans, but we can’t be sure because they are depicted with long robes that cover their whole bodies.

The idea of humans existing in canon has spawned a couple of memes, most infamously Thomas.

Plague healers

Again, I think the wiki explains this one better:

“According to Aequorin, Plague healers are an interesting bunch because rather than administer treatments that counter illness, they use a mixture of magic and contagion that stress the affected dragon further, allowing them to reach a stronger, healed, and resistant state faster than other elements. Plague healers will treat physical injuries with sutures, bandages, and braces, but they won't clean the wounds or apply ointments."

Akitla

As described in the original thread, Akitla was a dragon that user “qunii” saw on the front page, but noticed that she wasn’t accompanied by the username of the person owning them.

After clicking on her, an error page loaded. It was discovered that putting her color combination or ID in the search bar would result in an error page. This was later fixed, and both Akitla and her mate were now displayed as being exalted to the Arcanist. T

here are some theories as to what happened to the Akitla’s user, some think that she belonged to a deleted account, others that it was the result of an incomplete account creation.

As with a lot of things on this iceberg, it will likely remain a mystery forever.

Arcane sprite book

“what is the arcane sprite reading??” is probably one of the oldest still active threads on the forums.

On September 25, 2013 user “Kaadashi” started a joke thread were they wondered what exactly is the arcane sprite reading, and playfully suggested that it could be erotic fanfiction. People went crazy of course, and started to wonder what kind of juicy secrets were hidden within the pages of that book.

I don’t want to say too much because I really don’t want to spoil the experience of reading through this very cursed tread.

Sunshine

Sunshine is one of the most… interesting lairs on the site, and certainly one of the most well-known.

They(?) have a lair (almost) completely full of triple basic sunshine dragons, most of which are Tundras. So far they have collected about 320 triple hundred Sunshine dragons, almost all of which are also named “Sunshine”. They’re not all the same, some of them have apparel, some of them are gened and some have unique art and descriptions.

They’re dedicated and I respect that.

EDIT 28/06: Apparently some people seem to think that the sunshine-dedicated lair is based on a meme concerning the announcement of the color wheel expansion, which became so discussed that the itself site broke. The two things are unrelated however, as the Sunshine lair has been around for much longer.

The announcement of the color wheel expansion was cryptic, with only a few post showing off differently colored coatls and then 3 pages of reserved posts, with no explanation whatsoever.

Simple Farmer

Another very famous thread is the “I am but a simple farmer” thread started by user “someKindOfGenius”. It’s not really about anything specific, it’s just a rather silly thread were people photoshop flight rising dragons onto various crops.

Still, this thread is iconic so I had to include it.

Dragon Deaths

Way back in 2014 former flight rising programmer Thrage revealed on a forum thread that way back before the beta, dragons could actually starve to death if left unfed.

Yep.

Obviously they had to remove this mechanic because it would have been extremely harsh to casual players and make people frustrated with the game.

Zalvador

User “manojalpa” became fairly well-known for the extremely dark lore they(?) had written for their Clan, it was so dark in fact that every single one of their dragon’s bios had to moved to their tumblr where they couldn’t be easily seen by the site’s mainly underage usebase.

Their lore centered around their progen dragon, a tundra named Zalvador, which behaved and had the same powers as a flight rising user: buying dragons off of the action house, having “breeding projects”, exalting dragons, etc.

These things seem pretty normal when done by a player, but when taking them as actual real things that happen in universe… yeah, it was way too morbid for the site.

The Pit

Black linen neck wraps

For some weird reason, the apparel piece “Black linen neck wrap” when put on a male pose Coatl wraps around the dragon’s throat instead of it’s neck. It’s kind of subtle and hard to see, but if you compare it with the female pose the difference is clear. This is probably just an art error, although it’s weird that it hasn’t been fixed yet, since linen wraps are a very old piece of apparel.

Another weird thing about linen wraps in general is that the wing wraps just sort of… go through the membrane? This is not possible. These dragons are in pain.

Icewarden ears

Another very remarkably popular thread is the Icewarden ears thread.

In 2014 user “Llanai” simply makes note of the fact that the Icewarden has teeny tiny ears.

As we have come to expect from these threads, it quickly devolved into nonsense.

Forbidden Snapper lore

Snappers used to have a way different lore section that was changed because it deemed too similar to the lore of another petsite.

This is what the original section read:

"Snapper dragons do not sleep, but exist in a constant state of reverie. They receive and catalogue all experiences and stories told within their dreams. This persistent state of awakened dreaming awards them the longest memory of any dragon species. They are living encyclopedias, and any dragon who is seeking difficult-to-obtain information will have the most luck unearthing it from a Snapper clan - provided they have the patience for it. If you want two dozen quick answers, talk to a spiral. If you want a fully developed answer, camp out around a Snapper. These dreamers move at their own pace, which varies from dragon to dragon. For some, the awakened dream can prove to be more interesting than their surroundings. This leads to a focus upon the dream, and the waking world as filtered background noise. Interacting with these sleepwalkers can be a trying and repetitive task. Other Snappers may be fairly lucid, with a focus upon their surroundings and the constant hum of the dream pushed aside."

Bee movie script

I’ve seen this story around the forums a few times but I’ve never been able to learn the details.

From what I’ve heard someone copy pasted the entire bee movie script into their clan bio in a drop down text format, which completely broke the page for anyone who visited it. This was fixed, apparently, although I have no clue as to who this user is.

EDIT 28/06: Zeus

Zeus is an XXX gold g1 permababy imperial that used to belong to user "happywing".

Their account is now locked because Zeus was created with the use of a duplication glitch on an imperial breed change scroll, which is obviously not allowed (although I've heard some people say that the dragon was hacked in altogether). Before the account was locked, people speculated that Zeus was the most valuable dragon on the site, because an XXX g1 imperial is impossibly rare.

Wegg shaming

On July 2017 user “Dreamnorn” made a thread were they(?) claimed to have a dream where everything was the same except people used the term “wegged” when two dragons would lay only one egg in a nest.

Ex. Aw man! I’ve been wegged again! = Aw man! I bred two dragons and they only had one egg!

The dream ended up being prophetic, as the term catched on and people started to use it unironically.

The practice of “Wegg shaming” I think refers to the trend of people posting pictures of the dragons that “wegged” them in order to “shame” them.

Plague nest skull

The site art of the plague nest features an unique dragon skull that doesn’t match with any currently existing dragon breed or creature: It appears to have two sets of eyes, like a mirror, but also long and curled horns.

It’s probably just for decoration and it likely doesn’t have any significance whatsoever, but personally I believe it would be pretty cool if when they eventually release plague ancient it at least somewhat resembled this skull.

EDIT 28/06: On second thought, the skull doesn’t seem to have two pairs of eyes, It just has the generic shape of a carnivore.

Rock bottom

CAPTAINPLANET

…this is CAPTAINPLANET. Somehow, user “Decres”' managed to overlay a Fae skin on top of a Tundra, creating this horrifyingly fascinating abomination.

I have no idea how she did this, and she seems pretty adamant to tell.

EDIT 28/06: People have pointed out that this skin overlay glitch was actually somewhat common (although I still haven't found another dragon like CAPTAINPLANET). What you had to do was breed change a dragon while attaching a skin to them in another tab.

This glitch has been patched and such thing is no longer possible.

Lair 46264

A cursed lair.

Dreams

I’ve seen a lot of people, both on forums and on Tumblr, sharing dreams they had about Flight Rising.

A lot of people dream of just being on the site, while occasionally weird things happen.

I’ve read of people who dreamed the distribution of a new breed, buying an exclusive item, a new Fiona feat or Swipp trade, or just browsing the forums.

The most common type of Flight rising-associated dream I’ve seen however is being caught multiaccounting and having their account banned.

I’m no psychoanalyst, but I think it’s pretty clear that these nightmares stem from the paranoia of being banned from their beloved petsite instead of showing any actual intention of doing the “crime” in question.

Anyways, I think it’s fascinating how so many people dream about this site, and it reminds me of the dreams people claimed to have about Mario 64 where completely new levels were added or a scary monster appeared.

Dragon Slime

Dragon Slime was an infamous thread which was supposed to be start off point for an ARG.

It was deleted because it was considered too “spammy” and also because ARGs are banned from the forums. The thread has been lost, unfortunately.

EDIT 28/06: Thanks to @randompurple-fr for providing screenshots of the dragon slime tutorial! You can find them here

Cucumber

Cucumber is the only dragon ever to have been exalted with a skin, which is something that should not be possible. This raises some questions as to what exactly did the person that exalted them do to achieve this, but we have no way of knowing who Cucumber belonged to.

EDIT 28/06: Actually, we do know who used to Cucumber belonged to! Its owner was Osiem: an official flight rising artist. I couldn’t find the thread where they(?) acknowledged the glitch though, if someone has it please let me know!

#flight rising #fr #flight rising meme #iceberg meme

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starlightinhumanform · 3 years ago

Text

Nothing Sweeter

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Moxiety, Platonic Analoceit (only mentioned)

Summary: When Virgil agreed to work a cashier shift at the bakery, Logan had assured him that they never get customers that late. Instead, Virgil comes face to face with the cutest customer he’s ever seen.

Warnings: None! (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Bakery AU, Tooth-rotting Fluff

A/N: This was written for a request for @catemons-blog ! I haven’t written these babies in such a long time and to was so nice to write them again!! All reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated <3 Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Virgil could feel flour beneath his nails, the warm dough under his hands, his arms moving automatically in the comforting, repetitive shifts of kneading bread. The bakery was like a second home to him but, more specifically, he loved the kitchen. He loved the whole cafe but the front wasn’t where he belonged— Logan and Janus took care of that— but this world of warmth and sweetness and soft scents, that was his.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, they just didn’t seem to click. It seemed like he was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time or missing some social cue that was apparently obvious to everyone else but invisible to him. No, Virgil loved people and he loved to share what he made with them; it was just a lot lower stress to work behind the scenes.

So he surprised even himself when he agreed to run both the front and the back of the cafe for the night. Maybe it was Logan’s promise that nobody came in on a weekday in the late evening. Maybe it was Janus’ bribe that he would make Virgil an extra special mocha coffee tomorrow. Maybe it was the combined power of their pleading eyes. Whatever the case, Virgil found himself alone in the cafe on a late Wednesday evening, with nothing but his hands and his work for company.

Logan had been right— Virgil hadn’t seen a customer since his shift started at 7:00 and as the time stretched forward, it began to seem less and less likely that some would order a coffee this late at night.

When the door chime ran at 10 pm, Virgil was half-expecting it to be Logan or Janus stopping by to see how he was doing (and probably to steal a jam-filled cookie or two).

Virgil walked into the front of the store to say hello but was instead faced by a stranger. They had a round face with large blue eyes and a mop of curly blond hair sweeping down their forehead— their face wasn’t ringing any bells. But Virgil didn’t really know the customer’s; he knew their orders .

He quirked an eyebrow as went down the list of regular customers this stranger could be and began taking guesses, “A dozen maple doughnut bars?”

“Um, no actually I want—” Their voice was soft but had a gravely quality that bite at the ends of their words. The voice was unfamiliar to Virgil but for some reason, he wanted to hear it more.

“Hmm, a ciabatta loaf and three everything bagels?”

“No… I was hoping you had—”

“Oh, I know! A loaf of rye, a loaf of pumpernickel, and a loaf of sourdough?”

The stranger began laughing. It was a nice laugh, Virgil guessed, but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn red; he had said something wrong again, hadn’t he?

They stopped laughing long enough to flash Virgil a bright, amused smile, “Are you going to keep guessing the entire night until you get my order right?”

The customer didn’t seem mad, he wasn’t even laughing at Virgil; he was laughing… because of Virgil? Virgil had made them laugh and that felt very very different than being laughed at. Their laughs ran through the empty little dining area and bounced off the display case, almost entirely empty by this time of day. Their laughs made Virgil feel good, even if he didn’t quite understand what was so funny.

Virgil let himself take another look at the person in front of him. There was a warm, sweet sensation beginning to flutter in his stomach and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The customer was cute, no doubt about it. They were wearing large, round-framed glasses, nearly as gold as their hair. Behind the glasses, their eyes were one of the bluest blue Virgil had ever seen— like water drawn in a saturated kid’s cartoon. They were wearing a blue top tucked into a white pleated skirt and white mary-jane shoes. The skirt had attached suspender straps, one of which had a small pin on it. Looking closer, Virgil realized the pin was a small transgender pride flag with the pronouns “he/him” stamped over it. Ok, so the customer was a he ; and he was really, really cute.

Virgil tried to snap his mind back on focus. The man in front of him had stopped laughing but was still looking at him with a soft, somewhat lopsided smile.

Virgil looked down at his hands, feeling like making eye contact with this person was just a little too much right now. He cleared his throat, “So, uh, do you want to order something?”

“No, I actually was just planning on standing here for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Virgil could feel his eyebrows furrowing together.

“No, no,” He stepped closer to the counter Virgil was behind, “I was just joking, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Virgil had a hard time catching social cues but the way he said “sweetheart” held too much kindness and sincerity for Virgil to miss its meaning. Virgil’s blush grew to a deep crimson.

He walked all the way to the counter so he and Virgil were only a foot apart. Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to flirt with him or run away to the kitchen. Somehow, putting a stove fire out seemed easier than talking to this customer.

Virgil shook his hands below the counter, hoping stimming would help release all of the energy and feelings bouncing around in his body. He tried to remember what Logan had told him in case customers did come in; there were specifically steps Logan was very particular about, “Could I get a name for your order?”

“Of course! My name’s Patton!”

God, even his name is cute.

“Your name’s Virgil?”

Virgil glanced down at his name tag as if he needed reminding of what it said. He nodded in confirmation of Patton’s question.

“That’s such a pretty name,” Patton’s smile reminded him of opening an oven door on a cold day, the warmth and sweetness rolling over him in waves. He felt like he was melting.

Patton’s eyes wandered over the menu board, licking his lips absentmindedly as he tried to make a decision. Virgil wished he could stop looking at his lips.

Finally he looked back over at Virgil, “Could I get three muffins—”

“Uh huh,” Virgil nodded as he jotted the words down on the receipt the way Logan had asked him to.

“—and, uh,” Patton leaned forward even a little closer, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil forgot how to talk in that moment, feelings of happiness practically vibrating through him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he just exploded, just nodding his head to answer Patton like his life depended on it.

Virgil moved as if he were in a dream, packaging the muffins as Patton paid. He felt like the planet’s gravity had suddenly been turned down and he was floating a few inches off the ground. He quickly scribbled his phone number on the bag before handing it to Patton.

“Oh! I almost forgot something!”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow at Patton’s exclamation, “You did?”

“Yeah! Your tip for such great service.”

“No, no you already gave a tip. See, it’s on your receipt beneath—”

Virgil froze as Patton leaned forward and planted a kiss on Virgil’s cheek.

“There! Extra tip for being so cute,” Patton gave him that lovely, warm smile before turning with a wave and walking out of the bakery.

Virgil sank to the floor, disregarding whether or not that was a health code violation. He didn’t care about that right now. His face was tingling and his heart was racing and he felt out of breath. He clapped his hands together, happy stims taking over for a moment as he processed the interaction he had just had with the cutest boy he had ever seen. Maybe working in the front of the bakery had its own benefits…

Virgil couldn’t stop smiling.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist just send me an ask or reply to this post :)

General Sanders Sides Taglist: ~ @centimeter-tries-to-communicate @bee-syndrome @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @mossdeemo @im-actually-ok@softnic @catolicabuena @queer-disaster106 @lunawolf89 ~

#moxiety #romantic moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #virgil x patton #moxiety fluff #moxiety bakery au #moxiety fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides fluff #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides bakery au #tooth rotting fluff #moxiety meet cute #platonic analoceit #autistic!virgil #trans!patton #my fics #starlight writes

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matbarzyy · 4 years ago

Text

Where We Land [A.B.]

A/N: I've had this in my drafts pretty much since I started this blog but somehow never finished it, so here we are now. Enjoy some soft single dad Tito x student babysitter

Word count: 5739

Babysitting Anthony Beauvillier’s son was not what you expected to do to make money during the last two years of your degree. It started as an accident, really, you were walking in the park when Alex ran into you, and a few days later you were coming over to watch him while his dad was at practice.

Alex had been an unexpected surprise with a girlfriend Tito had dated for less than a year. They weren’t really in love, but they got along well and moved in together for the sake of their baby. They figured out after the first year that they were cut out to be friends rather than a couple, there was nothing romantic between them. Tito kept on living with them to make it easier while Alex needed constant attention, and they agreed to live separately once he was grown enough to be moved between houses on weekends.

A car accident changed everything when Alex was only three. The boys ended up on their own, and Anthony wasn’t sure of how to deal with his son and career at the same time. The team was a priority, but it couldn’t be more important than his own child.

His family helped him a lot at the start, staying with him to watch over Alex, but after a few months they had to get back home. You filled in for them during the week, picking Alex up from school and watching him until his dad was home, but it was never more than that. Anthony still always made sure someone from his family could fly to New York whenever he had to leave for a roadie.

It wasn’t a sustainable option for anyone, but they were still grieving so his parents did everything they could to help out. It worked until Alex turned four, almost a year had passed since he lost his mother, and it was time for everyone to move on.

It was the reason Anthony was so anxious about leaving for this game. You would be the one watching Alex and he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. You were used to the little boy, you were there every day and they both trusted you, but it wasn’t the same. Still, Tito didn’t think he could find anyone better than you.

“Thanks for watching him for so long, there’s no one else I’d trust around here with him for three days,” Anthony sighed as he dropped his bags by the doorstep, quickly checking he wasn’t missing anything. He did his best to shake off the nerves of leaving his son with someone that wasn’t his parents. “Please call me if anything happens?”

“We’ll be fine,” You reassured him for the millionth time. “It’s only three days, he’ll be at school most of the time,”

It was a bit of a change for you because you weren’t used to the morning routine Alex had, but you knew you’d be fine. It wasn’t a long trip, and Tito would be back on Friday right after school ended, so you wouldn’t even have to go through the weekend alone.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tito nodded, his bottom lip still caught between his teeth. “I’m going to say goodbye to him, I’ll try not to wake him up,”

It was six in the morning, so you were already settled on his couch in your sweatpants, your own packed bag sitting near the dinner table. There was a blanket draped over your shoulders, and you were planning on watching Netflix until Alex woke up.

You were used to making yourself at home around Tito’s apartment, you respected boundaries, but he had already seen you bunched up in blankets with Alex a hundred times when you had movie nights together while he was busy. You hoped the little boy would stay asleep for a while, it was too early for you to function, and he already knew you’d be there instead of his dad for the next few days.

“Okay,” Tito walked back into the living room. “He’s still sleeping, he should stay in bed until you wake him up. I made him pick clothes last night to wear today, they’re on the chair in his room,”

“Alright, thank you,” You made a note of doing that tonight, you weren’t sure of how fussy he was with deciding what he wanted to wear, so it was safer to have it done the night before.

“The fridge is full,” Tito continued with the recommendations. “So you should be fine, but that’s in case you need to get anything, or if you two go out and you need to buy him something or whatever, you know I don’t care,” He handed you an envelope that you could only assume was full of cash. It wasn’t the first time he did that, and you always kept receipts and left the exact right amount in, he knew because he had counted the first couple of times. By now he had stopped checking, he really couldn’t care less even if you bought something for yourself, but the little stack of receipts was always there waiting for him.

“I don’t think we’ll need more groceries, you won’t be gone that long,” You knew the kitchen was stocked with the list of ingredients you sent him. You always managed to cook dinner with whatever he had in the fridge when he was late to come home, but he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be missing anything while he was gone.

“Mmh, yeah, I guess. Make yourself at home in my room, okay? I changed the sheets after I woke up this morning, you can use whatever you need in the shower,” He went through the last few things he needed to tell you, and you nodded.

“Thank you,”

“Okay, Mat is picking me up,” He checked his phone when the screen lit up. “Call me if there’s absolutely anything,”

“How many times a day do I need to text you we’re okay to stop you from worrying?” You joked, trying to ease his mind.

“I’m just- I’m not used to this,” He bit his lip nervously, which wasn’t in his habits. You were used to seeing him confident. He always trusted you with Alex and went out for several nights without a second of worry, but this was different.

“I promise I’ll call if anything happens,” You reassured him again. “And just call me when you want to talk to him,”

“Okay, yeah, I’m really going now,” Anthony gave you a real smile. He knew you’d take care of Alex like he was your own.

“Good luck for the games!” You waved one last time before he closed the door.

After that first trip, your job as a babysitter began taking a lot more of your time. Anthony trusted you fully and left you without worrying any time he had to travel. Roadies were rarely long, and you managed juggling your classes and time on campus with your responsibilities towards Alex.

“Can we bake?” The little boy gave you his best puppy eyes, trying to distract you from an essay you were hoping to finish.

“If you ask politely,” You reminded him, tearing your eyes away from your laptop.

“Can we bake, please?” He asked again, knowing what was expected of him.

“Sure, Daddy will be home in an hour or two, do you want to bake him cookies?” You were sure the activity would keep you both busy until he was back, and Tito would appreciate the treat.

“Yes!”

“Alright, go wash your hands,” You nodded towards the bathroom and he ran there while you closed your laptop with a sigh. So much for getting work done.

You put your hair up before washing your hands at the kitchen sink, and Alex came back to join you soon after. You helped him put his small apron on, tying it behind his back for him. He wasn’t too clumsy for a kid, but he still lacked the coordination required for baking.

You measured out the ingredients for him and let him mix them together. He was a little slower than you would have been at it because his arms weren’t strong enough to mix fast, but you eventually ended up with a good enough batter.

“Alright, now the chocolate chips,” You poured them into the bowl and left Alex to check your phone.

Anthony just texted to tell you he was on his way from the airport, so you had just enough time to bake the cookies before he made it home.

“Alex!” You scolded with wide eyes when you found him with the spatula in his mouth, batter all over his face. “Put the spatula down in the sink,” You pointed to it, and he obeyed silently.

You knew from the guilty look he gave you that you wouldn’t need to say more than that. You helped him clean his face and then went on to put the first batch of cookies in the oven. Keeping Alex from trying to touch burning hot cookies took effort, but eventually they were cool enough for him to eat one while you stacked the rest on a plate

“Daddy!” Alex shouted as soon as the door opened, running to him before Tito even had a chance to drag his bags inside.

“There’s my boy,” He grinned as he picked the little boy up and hugged him tightly. “Did you just bake cookies?” He looked up at you and you nodded, smiling at the reunion.

“Chocolate chips!” The little boy yelled excitedly, holding on to his dad.

“Mmh, I’m not surprised,” Tito loved the smell of them, and he was sure they’d taste even better. “How was today?”

“It was good,” you smiled, finishing up in the kitchen and wiping counters to leave everything tidy. “What about you?”

“Busy but in a good way,” he came and reached for a cookie on the plate. “Much better now that I have this,” he bit into the sweet treat and hummed in appreciation. “You’re a wonder, can I hire you as a full time cook?”

“Oh so I could get paid for all of this?” You teased right back, hanging the tea towel back on the handle of the oven.

“You could if you weren’t so busy getting a degree,” he chuckled, watching as Alex came into the room. “I’m going to assume you’re not hungry, uh?” Tito asked the little boy because he was sure his little stomach wouldn’t handle a whole dinner after he had cookies.

“Only for cookies!” He exclaimed in response, making the two of you laugh out loud.

“That’s not how this works little man,” you ruffled his hair and went back to the living room to gather your things.

“You’ll want to take a detour behind the theatre,” Anthony advised as you finished putting your laptop away in your back. “There was an accident when I drove home, there’s going to be traffic,”

“I don’t want you to leave!” Alex ran over to you and clung onto your legs, stopping you in your way and making you look down.

“Alex,” Tito took his stern voice before you could say anything. “You can’t force her to stay like that. You have to ask.”

“Please stay,” The boy held onto your trousers and looked up at you with a pout on his face.

“I can hang around for dinner,” You answered before looking up at his dad to make sure that was okay. He nodded his agreement and you smiled. “How about you go show Daddy the drawing you did at school today while I see what I can make you two, mmh?”

……………………………........................................................................................

Sunlight streamed into Anthony’s room when you woke up. You yawned and sighed, stretching your arms over your head before sitting on the edge of the bed. You still had trouble believing how comfortable his bed was, so you never complained when he was away overnight and you got to stay for Alex. You weren’t sure if it was because of his mattress, or his pillow, or the fact that being cozy in his bed was the closest you’d get to being in his arms.

It was Sunday, so you had extra time to cook breakfast and nowhere to take Alex except the park after lunch if he wanted to go play. It was going to be a lazy day and you were going to start it with pancakes. You adjusted your pajamas that had gotten twisted around your body through the night and stepped out of the bedroom.

You stopped immediately when you noticed a man sitting on the couch. You could tell from the hair that it wasn’t Tito who could have come back early, but he was in an islanders hoodie so you guessed he was on the team.

“Um, hello?” You asked uneasily. You wished you at least got dressed when you got up.

“Hi, uh,” the man turned around and quickly realised you weren’t the person he was expecting to see. “I’m Mat,” he introduced himself. “Is Beau still sleeping or something?”

Now that you had a chance to get a good look at his face you easily recognised him from watching Anthony’s games.

“Oh,” You visibly relaxed. “You’re Mat, he’s not home right now. He’s helping a friend move a few hours away or something,”

“Oh, shit,” Mat realised why his best friend hadn’t texted back when he said he was on his way over. “You’re here for Alex,”

“Yeah,”

“Speak of the devil,” He grinned when a tiny figure appeared behind you.

“Uncle Mat!” The little boy yelled as he ran to him.

“Hi bud!” Mat picked him up easily, throwing him up into the air before letting him settle in his arms. “How good are you at skating now? Your dad told me you go and train every week, you’re going to be a professional soon!”

“Daddy said I can almost skate as fast as you!”

“Really?” Mat gasped excitedly. “You’re going to have to show me that,”

“After breakfast though,” You knew the little boy would get whiny if he didn’t eat before leaving.

“I got a new dinosaur!” Alex tugged on Mat’s sleeve to drag him to his room, and the man followed while gasping and asking questions whenever he needed to.

You shook your head and hurried back to Anthony’s room to change into your clothes before you could cook. Once in the kitchen, you decided to double the recipe you usually made for just you and Alex. If Mat ate like Tito you’d need at least that much.

It didn’t take long for you to start cooking them, and you placed syrup with some fruits on the kitchen island. Alex had recently developed an obsession for strawberries and would eat them with everything, so Tito had plenty of them in the fridge.

“Smells good in here,” Mat walked back in and hoisted Alex up on one of the stools.

“Strawberries!” He immediately grabbed the bowl with the red fruit and messily spooned some onto his plate.

“Pancakes too,” You slid two onto his plate.

He began eating without another word and you sighed, giving up on manners for the morning. You’d be a little more strict around lunch.

“Do you want some too?” You asked Mat, hoping for a positive answer otherwise you’d end up with breakfast for the next two days.

“Did you make these from scratch?” He looked at the batter you had made and watched as you expertly flipped them in the pan, revealing a perfect golden colour on the other side. You nodded and Mat beamed. “Yes please,” He grabbed a plate and the maple syrup, drowning the pancakes as soon as you dropped them on his plate. “So I guess the three of us are going skating?” He was still chewing when he asked his question, and Alex didn’t fail to notice.

“You can’t speak with your mouth full!” He scolded and you held back a laugh at the face Mat made. He clearly wasn’t too used to kids.

“You’re right little man,” He took a swig of his juice before answering. “Lemme start again, are we all going skating today?”

“I don’t know if I can just take Alex without Anthony,” you told Mat, who nodded understandingly.

“I’ve taken him a few times, Beau won’t mind,” he assured you, not knowing that you were awful at skating and actually broke your arm on the ice a few years ago. Deciding that Alex would be safe enough with a professional skater next to him even if you wouldn’t be able to do much to help him, you turned the heat off on the stove and agreed.

“Well, then I guess we’re going skating.”

……………………………........................................................................................

You sighed in relief after you closed the bedroom door as quietly as you could have. Alex has been inconsolable for hours and it was way past his bedtime, which meant you also had to stay up for longer than usual. You settled for cleaning the kitchen first, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought of what you should do.

Alex never talked about problems at school before, but what he had told you and cried about last night was worrying. You didn’t want to bother Anthony on the only night he was actually going out with his friends, he usually came straight home after games and remained with Alex on any other nights, but this was his child and you couldn’t just keep it to yourself.

You finished wiping the counters clean before taking your phone and settling for a text.

Alex had some trouble at school with a few kids, cried about it for a while, he just fell asleep. Thought I should let you know if you want to ask him about it tomorrow.

You kept it short and crashed on the couch with a quiet groan. You were exhausted, it was past midnight, and seeing Alex sad shattered your heart. Draping a blanket over yourself, you leaned back and eventually curled yourself up on your side to close your eyes and rest for a moment.

“You’re so whipped,” Mathew snickered as he watched his friend getting ready to leave already.

“I’m not,” Tito grumbled, putting his jacket on and pulling his keys out of his pocket. “I’m worried about Alex,” his jaw clenched as he felt the guilt wash over him. What kind of dad was he, going out with his friends instead of being there for his son when he was crying about his issues?

“He’s sleeping,” the other man argued, earning himself an icy glare. It was enough to shut him up, even if only for a few seconds.

“He’s my son,” Tito looked for his phone in his jacket pocket and realised it was in his jeans instead. “Something happened at school and he didn’t tell me. I need to be home.”

“Whatever you say,” Mat said in surrender before he turned serious again. “But just so you know, I’ve only spent a day with her and I can already tell you she’s wife material. Don’t let her slip away.”

On his way to his car Tito mentally cursed his friend with words he wouldn’t dare say in front of Alex, but Mat had brought up something he was not ready to talk about in the middle of a night that already held enough emotions. Maybe you were wife material, but it was Alex he was supposed to focus on right now, not on your laugh, your smile, that glimpse of mischief in your eyes that was hidden under shyness and professionalism when he was around.

“Dammit,” he muttered to himself.

He was home in ten minutes thanks to his friends who had agreed to meet at a bar that was close enough to his place, and he took a deep breath before pushing his key into the lock. There was no need for him to be so overly worried, you were good with Alex, and he was asleep now so Tito most likely wouldn’t get to talk to him until morning.

His heart squeezed when he spotted you curled up on the couch, seemingly fast asleep, if your lack of greeting was any indication. It was so late and you had told him about how stressed you were about the end of the semester and the exams you had to study for. The guilt of not being there for Alex was one thing, but now, seeing you like this on his couch also made him feel like he was failing you.

He couldn’t let you sleep so uncomfortably, but he couldn’t make you drive home either. Doing his best not to disturb you, Anthony crouched down and slid an arm behind your back and the other behind your knees. He wasn’t sure of how he was going to move you without waking you up, but with enough determination he eventually managed to lift you in his arms.

You usually always woke up when he came through the door, so he could only imagine how exhausted you were to remain asleep even when he moved you like this. His luck didn’t last much longer, as when he pushed the door to his bedroom a little too hard and caused it to hit the wall with a thump, you stirred and began to wake.

“What…” You blinked your eyes open, trying to figure out where you were.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Tito whispered as he lowered you onto the mattress. He really wished you would listen to him, but if there was one thing he knew about you it was that you hated being an inconvenience.

“I should go home,” you tried to shake yourself awake, but even then your voice still came out drowsy and you couldn’t push off Tito getting you comfortable.

“It’s almost one am, you’re not going anywhere,” He pulled the covers over your body, tucking you in. “I’ll take the couch,”

“What? No, you can’t sleep on the couch,” you protested, miserably trying to push yourself up, but with a gentle hand on your shoulder Tito made you rest back against the pillow.

“I don’t mind, unless you’re comfortable sharing the bed,” he said the only thing that he knew would make you stay. If you weren’t going to make concessions when it came to him sleeping in his bed, then you’d just have to share, because there was no chance he was letting you drive or sleep on the couch.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Your eyes were already half closed and your body was limp under the covers, so Tito smiled softly and properly stood back up again.

By the time he had changed and spent a few minutes in the bathroom you were fast asleep again. Tito had a hard time reminding himself that this wasn’t normal, that you weren’t his, and that you being in his bed didn’t have to mean anything. He wished he could stop being so obsessed with you, but when he settled into the bed next to you he couldn’t bring himself to turn the lights off immediately. Instead, he took the time to study all of your features and felt himself fall a little deeper for you with every passing second.

“Stay,” was the first thing you heard when you tried to move the next morning.

The sound was unmistakably Tito’s voice, but it was deeper than what you were used to, and there was a resonance to it. It was only then that you realised your cheek was resting on his chest over his shirt. From there you became aware of the weight of his arms around you, of the heat of his hand that was resting on your lower back, of your legs tangled with his.

Your cheeks burned while you tried to decide what to do. Tito was clearly still half asleep, in fact you were pretty sure he only came back to consciousness to say that word before drifting right back into sleep. This gave you two options, either move and wake him up and pretend this was all an unfortunate accident while you slept, or stay in his arms and keep feeling all of these heavenly sensations.

The rational part of your mind was usually the one you listened to, but this morning your emotions were much stronger than usual. Still, to avoid an uncomfortable situation, you pulled away from his hold and tried your best to slip out on his arms unnoticed.

With the way you were tangled it was impossible for him not to notice, so just as you were making it to your own side of the bed, Tito opened his eyes to look at you.

“Morning,” he smiled lazily, cut off by a yawn and his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Hi,” you breathed out so quietly he almost didn’t hear you. “What time is it?” You knew there was a clock on his nightstand but you couldn’t read it from where you were.

“Early,” he shrugged without checking, but his expression faltered a second later when he looked over at the clock. “Shit. It’s past eight, Alex is going to get up.”

“Oh, we should move,” you said before catching yourself. “I mean, I should, I’m sorry.” You rolled over to sit on the side of the bed and lamely tried to fix your hair. You didn’t even know what you were apologising for, he did insist you should stay the night, after all.

“It’s okay,” Tito didn’t reach out to stop you from getting up, but he was dying to have you back in his arms. “I mean, I want you to stay, it’s just… Alex could walk in any minute, and I’m not sure I can answer the questions that’s going to raise.”

“Yeah, I get it, I can just head out now, thanks for letting me stay the night,” you were glad you fell asleep in leggins and not some more embarrassing (but even more comfortable) pajamas that you sometimes wore when you came here. At least you could just grab your things and go.

“I don’t actually want you to go,” Tito sat up and sighed, not knowing how to handle any of this. There were too many unspoken things between the two of you, the previous night and this morning were obviously more than platonic, but he couldn’t address it in a rush.

“I get it, really,” you gave him a tight smile and prepared to leave his room. You were so embarrassed that you wanted to crawl into a hole to hide. What were you going to do after this? How could you have stayed with him in his bed? And woken up on his chest on top of it all. Of course he was attractive, and of course you had fallen for him, but he was still your employer.

“Wait,” he hurried off the bed just fast enough to touch your wrist before you could go. Turning around to face him again made you swoon. How could he be so gorgeous in the morning? He was all softness and warmth and it was absolutely killing you. “Are you free tonight?” He took his chance, but you were so surprised by the question that it made you oblivious to what he meant.

“Do you need me to watch Alex?” You frowned, unsure of why he would need you when his mom was meant to arrive today to spend a few days with him and Alex.

“No, um, I thought maybe since my mom’s coming she could keep Alex for the night, and maybe you and I could go out to eat somewhere and we could talk about some stuff?”

“Oh,” you gaped like a fish for a few seconds before remembering to close your mouth. The awkwardness of the situation hit you both harder than ever then, you still had a hand on the handle, and your lack of smart answers did not help anything.

“I get it if you’re busy, or if you just think we should forget about this. I didn’t mean to make this uncomfortable.” Tito took a step back, a lot shyer than you had ever seen him, so you rapidly shook your head.

“No, um, actually I’m free, so,” you dropped your hand back to your side, shifting from foot to foot while smiles crept back on both of your faces.

“Pick you up at seven?” He offered so that you wouldn’t have to ramble more. You relaxed and gave him a steady nod as you replied.

“Seven works.”

……………………………........................................................................................

“Anthony, you’re buttoning your shirt wrong,” his mother noted, pretending to casually walk past the bathroom to check what he was doing.

“Dammit,” he muttered, seeing that she was right and undoing the few buttons he had already done to fix his mistake.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” She leaned against the doorframe to observe him.

“Mom, please,” he sighed. Focusing on dressing himself was hard enough, he didn’t know how well he’d be able to dodge her questions if she insisted. She knew him too well and could always read him like a book, but sometimes Tito just wanted to keep some things to himself.

“Alright, alright,” she pretended to give up but her scrutinizing gaze didn’t falter. “You don’t need to be so nervous, did you get her flowers?”

“No,” he huffed. “She’s allergic.”

“So you know each other well?”

The look he gave her was to remind her he was no idiot either. She could read him well, but he also knew all of her tricks to get him to talk, and this one hadn’t been subtle.

“I need to get going before I end up late,” he put an end to the conversation, adjusting his clothes one last time and checking his hair wasn’t out of place. “I shouldn’t be back too late, but don’t wait up, okay?” Tito kissed his mom’s cheek as he walked past her.

“Have fun,” she encouraged him as he walked through the door, and he answered with a nod and a little wave before he was off to what he hoped would be a nice date with you.

He was a wreck as he drove to meet you, scared that he was completely wrong. Did you really want to go on this date with him? He was the one who told you to stay the night, he held you through the night, and he was also the one to ask you out. Were you only doing this because you felt you had to?

He was only pulled out of his head once he reached your place. He couldn’t back out now, if there was only a slight chance that you really wanted this date Tito didn’t want to be the asshole that stood you up.

Little did he know that you were even more of a wreck, pacing around your apartment and wondering how the hell you were supposed to act. You almost jumped to the ceiling when you heard him buzz from the door of your building. There was no more time to overthink.

The car ride was awkward to say the least. Tito tried to start a few conversations, but they all died after three exchanges and he eventually settled for turning the radio on. It was still uncomfortable, but at least it wasn’t silent.

Neither of you said a thing as he stopped the car near a restaurant you remembered mentioning in passing a few times. The illuminated sign stood out in the low light of the evening, but even that couldn’t cheer you up. You were so worried you’d say the wrong thing that you ended up saying nothing at all and you couldn’t tell which option was worse.

“I’m sorry I just don’t know what we’re doing right now,” Tito eventually sighed, falling back against his seat. He had gotten so excited for this, and then so nervous. Now, he was just as lost as you looked, dumbfounded by his words. Somehow, he found the will to continue talking and laid it all out. “I just… I really like you, but I don’t know if you’re here because you work for me and I put you in an uncomfortable position, or if you actually want to be here, and we’ve never talked about any of this, and I swear things have never been weird between us before tonight so I don’t know why everything is so awkward now,” he went on and rambled for a minute, which was just enough time for you to manage a few words.

“I do want to be here,” you tried to reassure him, but your voice wasn’t very steady. It worked anyway, making him breathe out a relieved sigh.

“Okay,” Tito found the courage to turn his head to look at you, offering you a small smile as you met his eyes. This was new for both of you, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to work.

Knowing that words weren’t your thing, he held his hand out for you to take. You smiled as you laced your fingers through his, giving him a small reassuring squeeze. “I mean it’s not like we have nothing in common, right?” You tried, earning a quiet chuckle and a nod.

“Worst case the conversation can just fall back on Alex.”

The mention of the young boy was enough to make you smile, which made Tito’s heart swell. He didn’t think he could ever fall in love with someone while his son was so young, needing so much time, attention and care. That was his primary responsibility, and he didn’t believe anyone would truly and selflessly understand that. Yet here you were, caring for the little boy almost as often as he did. You understood. Tito could doubt that you loved him, but he couldn’t doubt that you loved Alex.

You remained there looking at each other for several moments. Maybe you didn’t need to be scared of having to explain how you felt about each other, maybe this silent communication was enough for now. Even when you began to imagine Tito might find your staring weird, he remained there, unwavering, his eyes on yours holding the same intensity.

“Ready?” He spoke softly as to not break the moment.

Your answer came without hesitation. “Ready.”

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

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hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also:

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures || Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #possessive john #my fic recs #safebannie

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years ago

Text

I Was Enchanted To Meet You

This is a long time in the works, and a gift to my dear friend @cmhotchniss-blog, who sent me her idea of how Aaron and Emily met. Most of the ideas are hers, and I am forever grateful she let me connect some of the dots. 💓

"I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet. For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

One night for Aaron and Emily has a lasting impact on them both, twenty-four years later.

A mess of metal is what’s left behind on a dusky stretch of Route 66. Shattered glass sparkles like diamonds along the wet asphalt in the darkening sky as night meets the last moments of the day. Smoke curls and hisses around the mangled frame of the SUV, the stillness of the air a juxtaposition to the chaos that wraps around them - a slew of first responders, a few ominous rumbles of thunder, the mounting traffic on the other side of the highway. It’s a cacophony of sounds and sirens, shrill and relentless, that bring them all back to the reality that it can’t get much worse than this.

Read the rest below or on ao3!

There’s shouting - so much shouting - the frantic and panicked voices from the normally imperturbable team as one of their own is pulled from the passenger seat, limp and unresponsive. It only took seconds for things to go horribly wrong. Accidents were never supposed to happen, and yet here they were, helplessly surrounding a team of paramedics who were just a little too quiet in their intense focus, their faces stretched a little too thin, a little too grey, as they bent over Emily.

Her speech is slurred; her eyes flutter and blink weakly as they fight to keep her conscious and alert, rattling off blood pressure numbers with thinly veiled concern. They abruptly push JJ to the side, curtly demanding the need for more space to work, bark directions to the hospital, and start preparing to move her into the ambulance.

On the other side, a hand with a set of bitten down nails grapples for purchase at Dave’s shirt, fingers wrapping around the folds of expensive fabric to pull him closer in one last moment of semi lucidity. With a fading grasp Emily drags him down close enough to whisper something inaudible in his ear, words meant for only him to hear. The older man frowns, eyebrows furrowing with confusion as she falls unconscious, the last lick of light disappearing behind the trees.

____

“Dad, are you sleeping?”

Aaron’s eyes snap open a little too quickly, the bowl of popcorn nearly spilling into his lap when he jumps to attention. The voice, a familiar one, is insistent, as if it’s not the first time he’s said his name in the last few minutes. “No,” he says quickly and he’s not entirely sure who he’s reassuring. “No. I was just -”

“Let me guess,” Jack scoffs, taking a large handful from his own, much larger bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Just nodded off.”

“I’m paying attention,” Aaron attempts weakly as Jack laughs under his breath and shakes his head.

“I’ve heard that before.” His son reaches for the remote to rewind the last ten minutes of the scene he’d missed, still laughing. “This is what … the third week in a row?” While he’s right, Jack doesn’t seem bothered. The years away have made him wise beyond his years, with a patience not often possessed by hormonal teenage boys who spend most of their time with a screen in their face. Aaron often thinks his son inherited the best of Haley - her patience, for starters. He resembles her too, and every now and then, looking at Jack is like looking into a window of the past. A past that could have been a fantasy, for now it seems like so far gone.

“Something like that,” Aaron mumbles. It’s true. In the four months they’ve lived in the quaint Philadelphia suburbs of Chester County, an idyllic place without the Main Line housing prices, adjustment has taken on a new meaning once again. Gone are the fake identities, the constant checking and double checking of doors and windows, the frequent looks over their shoulders, the unsettling notion that it might not end - that this might, unfairly, be their reality. He knows they’d go to the end of the earth to find Scratch - they’d done it before to find Foyet, then Doyle. They fought monsters before, but somehow, this was different.

There had been a finality in his decision to take Jack and go into Witsec. His final act to name Emily as Unit Chief was an easy one, and while it didn’t lessen the blow of the circumstances in which he and Jack left, in a flurry of panic, reminiscent of one his son experienced once before, it gave him a semblance of peace he wasn’t expecting. A little bit of reprieve, the ability to sever ties that may never be rebuilt, to no fault of their own. The cruel and unusual situation was one that they always risked with the nature of their work, one that was always a distant possibility.

In the quiet moments, he thinks of her. The what ifs and the whys. Everything between them that was said, and what never was. What he’s never told anyone is just how long he’s thought of her in one way or another, the one night they shared together, years ago, tucked neatly away in his mind to save for nights when he wondered just how things got to be this way.

“Come on, Dad,” Jack laughs. “At least try to make it through this movie. You said you wanted to see this one.”

With a hint of guilt as his obvious disinterest, Aaron sits up a bit straighter on the couch, grips the popcorn bowl in his hands, locking his eyes on the television. The plot of the movie is already lost on him, despite it being a topic of conversation for the last several days. “Just play the movie, Jack.” He stifles a yawn into his fist and valiantly attempts to focus his attention on the screen.

Aaron is dozing when he’s interrupted again; this time by his phone vibrating on the table. He doesn’t miss Jack’s eyes flickering over to the phone. “It’s just like old times,” he sighs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

The name on the screen is the very last he expects to see at such an hour in the middle of the week. Aaron frowns, the phone cradled in his hands as the phone vibrates insistently. It’s the familiar push and pull of guilt he feels when his eyes shift between his son and the phone again, an unexpected window into a life he long left behind. The phone keeps ringing, immediately following the first unanswered call. Not a good sign, he thinks.

“Dad?”

“I need to take this, Jack,” Aaron says quickly. It’s late enough that this is anything but a casual phone call. The blanket is tossed aside and the popcorn already forgotten. He barely hears Jack’s half-hearted protest as the phone crackles static and then connects. The voice on the other end speaks first, his tone clouded with thinly veiled fear.

“Aaron.”

“Dave.” His tone is equally clipped, even and steady even as the phone is held tightly in his hand, waiting for whatever news is about to come.

“Aaron, you need to get to Prince William Medical Center as soon as you can.” It’s the urgency in Dave’s voice that unnerves him; it sets off every warning bell in his head. His normally unflappable, at times annoyingly rational friend sounds harried and exhausted, as if it’s already been the longest of nights, as if making this very phone call was a last resort. “It’s Emily.”

Emily .

The words reverberate through his head, the implications tear through his chest like a series of spears. He knew it wasn’t good, but he didn’t expect this. “What happened?” But years of experience and unbridled heartache have steeled his nerves, tested his resolve time and time again. He should be used to this by now - bad news that haunts those he loves. But the fear is like a vice, a cold stab that wraps itself around his mind and back again.

“There was an accident.” Dave begins. It’s been a few years since he’s seen him, but through the phone Aaron can see the lines on his forehead that have certainly deepened by now, perhaps a few have been added over time as the years add up.

“Accident? What kind of accident?”

He barely listens as Dave recounts the last few hours in excruciating detail. They were on a case - local - Reston - on their way back to Quantico. A poorly timed summer storm made visibility terrible, rendering driving nearly impossible. They were sideswept by another SUV, the impact sending them careening into the median on 66 just outside of Woodbridge. It sounds like anyone’s worst nightmare - airbags deployed, the windshield shattered upon impact, the entire hood a mangled mess of metal as the car careened to a stop, the threatening hiss of the engine.

But the totaled car was the very least of their problems.

“She’s in critical condition, Aaron,” Dave says carefully, as if it’s only part of the truth, as if somehow it’s even graver than this. “She’s unconscious.” It doesn’t sound good - her head hit the window on impact, the rest of Dave’s news confirms his worst fears - a likely head injury, the extent of which they don’t know.

It doesn’t make sense. It seems like some kind of sick, ill joke - a nightmare he’ll wake up from, only to find Jack having devoured both bowls of popcorn and the credits of the movie he never actually watched rolling. “What aren’t you telling me Dave?”

“I think you’d want to be here, Aaron. It … it could go either way at this point.” Dave’s voice is so heavy, something Aaron isn’t used to. His friend was typically the voice of reason, the one he went to for assurance when things seemed to be spiraling out of control - something he did many times over. And now the tables were turned to their side, a cruel twist of fate. It takes no convincing; he’s already reaching for his jacket on the hook by the door, grappling for an umbrella shoved unceremoniously in a closet somewhere closeby.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

…

“Mendoza is on his way.,” JJ says quietly as she rounds the corner with two cups of coffee in her hands. “ He just called me.”

“That might complicate things.” Dave wrings his hands and paces the tiny hallway. “Who told him?” He asks curiously. It hadn’t been long since Emily had shown up in his office one night, shoulders heavy as she relayed the news of their breakup. Dave is no stranger to the failures of love - having been thrice divorced himself. Sometimes timing was to blame, other times it was priorities. In their case it was commitment, or lack thereof, things fizzling out and hasty goodbyes, half-hearted assurances of keeping in touch, that one will call the other. Yet Dave isn’t exactly surprised to hear the news. Despite their challenges, Mendoza had been all but enamored with Emily, in awe of her at times. He wasn’t a stupid man; he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t follow him to Colorado. There was always something else that stood in her way. He just never knew exactly what.

“Word travels fast.”

“Aaron is on his way.” After a long pause, Dave scrapes a hand across his face, exhaustion bleeding through the cracks of age. “I just called him.”

JJ only nods and stares into Emily’s room with a pensive expression. “What do we tell them?”

“We tell them what we know. Hope for the best. That's all we can do.”

...

The storm takes the humidity with it, a soft chilly breeze spreading through the darkness. Aaron hurries through the hospital doors, charging past the triage nurse towards the elevators. He’s only vaguely aware of the other man that wedges himself past the doors just in the nick of time. He looks just as distracted as Aaron feels, eyes distant -worlds away - and lost in his own thoughts as he offers a quick smile, fists shoved in jacket pockets.

“What floor?” Aaron offers with a tight smile.

“The ICU.”

He nods and pushes just one button, indicating that they’re in fact going to the same place.

“I’m sorry.” The other man nods his head in solidarity, noticing the single illuminated circle on the panel, shuffles his feet, checks his watch and hangs his head. The phone in his pocket buzzes; he checks it with a resigned sigh. Aaron feels a touch of sympathy for him, wonders just what brings him there.

Except he doesn’t have to wonder much longer, because not only is Dave waiting when the doors open, but he clearly knows whoever Aaron just shared the elevator with. And judging by the way Dave’s eyebrows lift just enough at the sight of them both, practically side by side, something tells him there’s more to the story than just a simple coincidence.

“I see you’ve met?” Dave cocks his head to the side, scrubs his chin with his hand thoughtfully. “I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

“What the hell happened?” The man beside Aaron demands, a little more forcefully this time.

“So you haven’t met.”

“What the hell is going on, Dave?” Aaron snaps first, his patience starting to wane. The last three hours of travel have already started to catch up with him. It’s been years since he’s had to channel his feelings into something more stoic and taciturn. It doesn’t return as easily this time. He tells himself it’s because of age and time, yet the nagging voice in his head says it’s something else entirely.

“Andrew Mendoza, meet Aaron Hotchner. The former chief of the BAU. Hotch, this is Andrew Mendoza. Mendoza was the Special Agent in Charge of DC’s Field Office. He consulted with the BAU on a few local cases about a year ago.”

“Was?” Aaron questions, quickly putting together what Dave doesn’t tell him about Andrew Mendoza. There’s only one reason why he’d be there - a reason he didn’t anticipate. He has to swallow the bitter pang of regret that rises in his throat. It shouldn’t exist at all, but a familiar feeling that has lingered just within his reach whenever he thought of Emily. The chances they never took, the timing that seemed to elude them for one reason or another. Time. It had never been on their side.

“The Denver Field Office offered me a promotion last month. My daughter and I are moving out to Colorado in a few weeks.”

“Congratulations,” Aaron says stiffly as he offers his hand. It’s obvious why he’s here - the same reason Aaron is. “I’ve heard good things about Denver.” There’s something about the news that satisfies him.

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” Mendoza glances at Aaron, then Dave, then back at Aaron again. “But what the hell happened tonight?”

“JJ didn’t tell you?”

“Just that there was an accident.”

Dave presses his mouth into a thin line, relaying the story with such tact that Aaron knows it’s an abridged version, a slightly less terrible rendition of what happened back on the highway. “We were right outside of Woodbridge. On our way back from a case in Reston. Visibility was awful. It happened so fast. Emily must have hit her head on impact. She lost consciousness shortly after the ambulance arrived. They’re considering surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain.”

Dave pauses, letting the news sink in, taking a deep breath of his own to compose his frayed nerves. “There’s a chance of brain damage but they won’t know more until after she regains consciousness.” His gaze shifts between them both, gauging their reactions.

“When will that be?”

“There’s no easy way to tell. Could be hours after the surgery. Or days. She’s not breathing on her own. It’s going to be a while before we know anything.” He repeats the doctors’ words as calmly as he can. Dave’s typically unflappable demeanor is strained; the weariness laces through his voice.

“How did this happen?” It’s Mendoza who speaks up this time, clearly distraught and searching for words of his own. He almost looks embarrassed by his uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“It was an accident,” Dave repeats as calmly as he can, as if he’s practiced this speech in his head before giving it. “No one is to blame.”

The air seems to thicken around them, the reality setting in that while it’s already been a long night, it’s only just beginning.

“We’re here because of Emily. It’s a waiting game now, as long as it might be. May as well make yourselves comfortable. There’s a waiting room just down the hallway and a cafeteria on the sixth floor, if you want some coffee. It might eat a hole in your stomach, but it’s something.”

The room around him starts to spin. Aaron can’t remember the last conversation they had - something hasty by phone, he suspects, in the days of time differences and small talk. Never awkward, but something always lingering beneath the surface. Their conversations were all about what wasn’t said - subtext, layers of awareness only they possessed.

“One other thing,” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, a fleeting thought he nearly forgot, nothing more than a passing thought. “Before she lost consciousness, she was rambling incessantly about apple pie.” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, eyes narrowing in confusion. “The best apple pie in DC. Any idea what that could be about?”

Aaron stiffens, his jaw flexing at Dave’s seemingly innocuous mention in the midst of everything else. It’s been years since he’s last seen her and another fifteen since that night, one he’s never actually spoken of out loud. It could have been a lifetime ago, a distant memory. It feels so foreign at this point he could have dreamed it. Surely he misheard - there’s no way she’d be thinking of that. He pinches the bridge of his nose, stifles a yawn into his fist. It’s about to be a very long night. “Where is she? Is she in surgery yet?”

“Not yet. She’s just down the hall.” In the distance a monitor beeps then an alarm starts to go off, punctuated by the efficient scramble of nurses. It reminds him just how much he hates hospitals, and Aaron breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they don’t go into Emily’s room.

“You can see her, you know.” Dave offers gently, sensing the growing tension. “One visitor at a time.”

It’s somehow decided, without officially being decided out loud, that Aaron will go in first. Mendoza quietly mentions something about needing to call his daughter. Not for the first time this evening, Aaron is actually grateful Jack can hold his own at home for a little while, that they’re long past those years of constant check-ins. A simple text will do in a few hours’ time. And he steels his nerves with a few deep breaths before slipping into the room, the silence punctuated by the staccato beeping of monitors and a ventilator.

She’s like a ghost, translucent almost - amidst the machines and wires. He remembers a time, years ago, when the roles were reversed. Aaron wonders if she felt the same clench of fear in her gut, the awful feeling of helplessness that came along with being at someone’s bedside in a hospital. He wonders if she felt the same desperation clinging to every nerve in her body that things would be okay.

“Hey,” he says, sinking into the hard plastic chair at the side of the bed. “It’s been awhile.” Deep down he knows she won’t - can’t - respond. But there was a moment of hope - a tiny one - flimsy and built on nothing - that maybe she would move or something to indicate she heard him. There isn’t one.

Aaron swallows the rising lump in this throat, thick and pressing right down into his lungs. “I really need you to wake up, Emily.”

...

“When’s the big move?” Dave presses Mendoza gently, asking all the questions Emily never gave answers to. He folds his arms across his chest, unable to tear his gaze from the scene before him. From his place behind the window, he watches Aaron lower himself onto a chair on shaky legs, taking a few steadying breaths as he settles beside her. He rests a weary head on his fist.

“Two weeks. Keely wanted to finish her soccer season.” Mendoza crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes follow Dave’s.

Dave nods without really comprehending the words. “You’ll have to let us know when you’re both settled out there.”

“Yeah.”

Dave breaks an awkward silence. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t.” By now, Mendoza’s full attention is on the scene before them both, face solemn and stiff. “What’s the story between them?” His eyes narrow ever so slightly, shades of suspicion cloud his features and his shoulders tense. Years of profiling make Dave keenly aware of these subtle changes in his behavior. He’s questioning it .

Dave shrugs. “Friends? Colleagues?” By now, Aaron is brushing Emily’s arm with his thumb, and if he isn’t mistaken, swears he sees his lips moving too. “Anything else and your guess is as good as mine.”

It seems to smooth things over for a few moments, even as something else is planted in his mind. Something he never considered at all.

…

“Have you been to Boathouse Row yet?”

It’s an attempt to make small talk as they sit down; it doesn’t get past Aaron, who stays silent, completely ignoring the question.

“So what is it you’re not telling me?” Dave passes a flimsy styrofoam cup over the small table.

“Now might not be the best time, Dave,” Aaron retorts, rolling a tiny cup of creamer in his fingers.

“We’ve got nothing but time, Aaron. Surgeon says things could take hours. She might even be conscious immediately after. And you’re not driving back to Philly anytime soon.”

He has a point . “She was talking about when we first met.” He sighs heavily as he spins the cup around in his hands. “It was a long time ago.”

“At the BAU?” Dave knits his eyebrows in confusion.

Aaron rubs his eyes tiredly. By now any movement feels like effort, the space behind his eyes starting to throb with an oncoming headache and exhaustion. “Before that.”

“You mean you knew - “ Dave stops, his coffee ignored and interest piqued. “You two knew each other before?”

“We met years ago. Would be at least twenty now.” He’s too tired to do the math of exactly how long it’s been. “We met when I was working for her mother one summer in DC.”

“I certainly had no idea.”

“No one did. It never really came up.”

“By choice or on purpose?” Dave quips, his eyes just a touch brighter than they were moments before. He chuckles when Aaron just stares right back, the hint of a smile hidden in his eyes. “So what’s the story?”

His expression is wistful, as if he were dusting off a long held memory. “It was kind of an accident.”

Twenty-Four Years Ago

Not for the first time that evening, Aaron checks his watch discreetly and sighs into his fist. It’s only eight-thirty; who knows how long this thing will last. It wasn’t that he agreed to this. It’s practically a rite of passage when working for an Ambassador, or so he’s been told -working one of the many extravagant parties and benefit dinners that were practically part of her job description. The ballroom is full of DC’s political elite - congressmen and senators, the Secretary of State and the Attorney General. Rumor had it the Vice President would be making an appearance. For that reason alone, security was heightened, every egress monitored, yet he’s never felt more invisible in a room full of people.

Aaron spots her accidentally, but something tells him she’s not trying to blend in. The tall figure on the opposite side of the room is entirely too young to be one of them , yet she mingles easily with a champagne flute between her fingers. She’s wearing an elegant black dress with a high neck and open back. It shows off delicate shoulder blades that jut out like wings when she moves. He isn’t the only one staring.

She’s the Ambassador’s daughter - Emily . Aaron has only heard of her from the others, her name being uttered in exasperation when one of the agents finds her breaking protocol yet again - sneaking out and in at all hours of the night, slipping an endless parade of friends past the entrance logs without proper verification. He’s never spoken a word to her; he knows almost nothing about her except that she’s a student at Yale, supposedly speaks multiple languages, and has a knack for causing trouble.

They haven’t spoken a word to each other, but her eyes meet his across the square in the middle of the room that is supposedly a dance floor. His mouth goes dry and he immediately looks away when Emily excuses herself from whatever conversation she’s immersed in, only to look back seconds later to find her sauntering directly towards him , effortlessly maneuvering through the crowd.

Aaron nods a polite hello, attempting to keep his expression neutral when she’s finally closed the gap between them both.

“You know,” Emily says with amusement, eyes flicking over him. “You could at least try not to look so miserable.”

“Who said anything about being miserable?”

“It’s practically part of the job requirements if you work for my mother. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same expression since this thing started.” When she catches his look of sheer bewilderment and mild annoyance, she laughs softly. “Trust me. I’ve been to enough of these things to know what I’m looking for.”

“Are you spying on me?” He glances around, wondering just where the Ambassador even is amidst a sea of black suits. He should be keeping a close eye, after all. He strains his neck a little, scanning the crowd purposefully until he sees the woman that strongly resembles the miniature version of her in front of him.

“No. I’m just observant.” Without missing a beat, Emily waves to someone - a Congressman Aaron immediately recognizes from the news - something about a scandal involving a rather young intern under a desk - but he hadn’t been paying too much attention to remember all the details. “He’s such a scumbag,” she adds quietly without any elaboration.

He senses her reticence immediately; he wonders just how she knows all of this, if he should push, if at all “Isn’t that part of their job description to a degree?”

“Some of them,” Emily mutters. “But he’s one of the worst.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aaron murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the crowd to get a better look at her. Up close she’s even more stunning, with sharp cheekbones and a perfectly symmetrical face, her smile wide and eyes like dark orbs. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I’ve seen you around. You’re the new guy.”

“New-ish. I started in March.” It comes out a bit more dejectedly than it should, but it’s hard to hide the disdain he feels for it all. Things have been far from easy over the last few months. It’s a mindless shuffle of one foot in front of the other, days that blend together similar to the ones before, with the slightest hope that a few more weeks of patience might wield a change.

“New to me.” She’s only been home for the summer a few weeks at most, so he can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen her. “So what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” She cracks a grin at her own remark. “You’re too tense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Agent …”

“Hotchner,” he fills in quickly.

“Agent Hotchner, you certainly wouldn’t be the first security detail to use this as a stepping stone to a different career. You’re all just biding time until something better comes along.” She’s so matter of fact, so assured, it’s as if she’s had this very conversation with every other agent in the room at one point or another. “It’s usually the quiet ones. They have less to prove.”

“Are we that transparent?”

“Some of you. And I can’t say I blame you. This place surely isn’t a means to an end.”

“What does your mother think of your beliefs?”

“My mother knows exactly what I think of her career and everything that goes along with it. It’s what’s gotten us to this point, actually.”

“And what point might that be?” He’s only heard of some of the epic arguments between the two of them, the harshness of their voices reverberating around the Ambassador’s office or some ornately decorated living room. The bitter clashes of two strong wills, hidden behind the fact that just maybe they were more similar than different.

“A story for a different time,” Emily says smoothly. “Can’t exactly talk about it here.”

“You’re full of stories, aren’t you?” Aaron deduces but she isn’t even paying attention anymore as she scans the crowd. He can see the wheels start to turn in her head, the flicker of an idea materializing somewhere. She turns back, this time a grin stuck to her lips. “What?” He asks reluctantly.

“Let’s get out of here.” Emily bats her thickly lashed, heavily lined eyes. “This thing is going nowhere fast. Besides, you look like you could use a break. “How long have you been on?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” she says casually with a wink as she plucks a champagne flute from a nearby tray, downing it quickly. “I probably shouldn’t drive, but you can.” It’s accompanied with a flippant toss of hair over her shoulder, an expectant purse of her lips.

It’s certainly not the smartest idea or the most prudent, but something tells him Emily could care less about prudence and image. “I could be suspended for unauthorized use of a government-issued vehicle.” Not to mention, having his boss’s daughter in said government vehicle with him, or completely leaving his assignment altogether. He remembers skimming over the terms of employment months ago, specifically the section about fraternization with members of the Ambassador’s Family.

“Who said anything about one of theirs?” She looks almost bored now, tapping her fingers against the empty flute. “That’s no fun anyway. They have trackers on them. For security purposes.” She forms air quotes with her fingers. “We wouldn’t get far.”

He’s about to ask her how she even possesses that knowledge when he feels her hand on his waist, dipping into the creases of his jacket like a lover would. It doesn’t phase her, and while normally his reflexes would spring into quick action, he’s glued into place.

“You have a car don’t you?” Emily unabashedly pats his pocket, feeling for keys.

He opens his mouth to object, but she’s too fast. She grins with satisfied smirk, a triumphant click of her tongue as he stiffens awkwardly when they jingle against her hand. “You aren’t a great liar, Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” he says somewhat stiffly, resignedly. He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes centered on the ballroom but it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand. The scent of perfume - something undoubtedly expensive - lingers and it makes him dizzy even if he hasn’t had a sip to drink. “And I didn’t lie.”

“Aaron.” His name rolls off her tongue thoughtfully. “Aaron,” she repeats, as if it’s the first time she’s ever heard it. “I never understood why there were two A’s. What do you do with the second one?”

His head spins to keep up with her, how her mind somehow bounces from one thought to the next with seemingly little direction. “Never gave it much thought myself, actually.” From the corner of his eye he catches one of the other agents giving him a quizzical, perhaps slightly jealous, eye roll. It’s a bad idea to entertain, but one he can’t ignore. Emily is staring at him, eyes sparkling, with the slightest touch of longing. Longing for what he isn’t sure, but whatever it is, it wouldn’t be found in the middle of the opulent ballroom.“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve been told of a place not too far from here,” she begins slowly, a smile on her face at his gradual acquiesce. “A diner that supposedly has the best apple pie in DC.”

“Apple pie?” Just how much has she had to drink?

“I’m starving ,” she offers with a hand pressed to her flat stomach. Aaron’s eyes follow, lingering up and down on her narrow frame.

“They’re about to serve dinner,” He says lamely, shaking his head to ensure he heard her correctly. Waiters have started to circle the room with large serving trays balanced precariously above their heads, passing around the plates that he guesses must cost a few hundred dollars a head, maybe more. The crowds have thinned as more guests take their seats.

Emily shrugs with disinterest. “Once you’ve been to one of these things you’ve been to them all. Besides, this is when things start to get really insufferable.”

“Is that so?”

“Someone will start talking,” Emily drawls sardonically, surveying the crowd starting to take their seats at previously assigned tables - tables he could probably rattle off by name if asked. “Make some big speech promoting their campaign trying to get reelected or whatever. Then they all will. They love hearing themselves talk.”

“Part of the job, I guess.” He stares, unsure of what to say next. Her attitude towards politics is the complete opposite of that of her mother. His interactions with his boss have been somewhat limited; he doubts if she even remembers his first name. Yet he’s seen the way Elizabeth Prentiss revels in a world seemingly dominated by men, a woman in a league of her own. He wonders just how much the Ambassador has sacrificed; wonders if her daughter might be amongst that list. It would certainly explain their tenuous relationship.

“So what do you say? Surely you don’t want to sit around listening to a bunch of old guys spout a bunch of half truths to line their pockets?” She seems unbothered yet again, almost amused by the sight in front of her - as if her premonition of how the night would go is coming true.

There’s nothing he wants less. “How do you suppose I get out of this? I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“I’ll leave that up to you.” Emily sets the champagne flute on a nearby serving tray and spins on her heel, sauntering back towards the center of the ballroom. “I’ll be outside of the South Gate when you figure it out.”

…

In the end, he makes up an excuse to leave. It’s not exactly convincing and the agent in charge doesn’t exactly believe him when he feigns an emergency - food poisoning. But Aaron has always had an exceptionally good poker face, grimacing just enough to make it look questionable, and the other agent curtly nods, grunting something about having enough security for the evening, and making up the hours later in the week. It falls on deaf ears - he’s already out the doors of the security office, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips as he strides across the asphalt driveways with his back toward the house.

Sure enough, Emily is waiting for him, finishing the rest of a cigarette when he pulls around to the South Gate. He keeps his taillights off; the less attention he draws to himself the better.

His car has seen better days, the leather seats worn smooth and the stereo outdated, the steering wheel permanently indented from the grip of his own two hands, scuff marks and faded carpets. But it’s well maintained, and Emily smiles appreciatively when he holds the passenger side door open, then explains how to adjust the seat, just in case . She doesn’t seem to notice at all, just unceremoniously tugs her long skirt out of the way of the door and kicks off her heels.

“Fucking things,” she grumbles. The heels are sharp as knives, ridiculously impractical yet Aaron can’t help but picture her wearing them in a dress much shorter than the one she currently has on. He shakes his head, reminding himself not to go there, because the reality is, she’s still his boss’s daughter, and if anyone were to see them, he’d most definitely be written up, maybe worse, for taking her off property without following protocol. But she’s close enough to touch, her arm a gentle weight against his own on the center console.

“So,” Aaron asks, his voice barely audible. He shifts the car into reverse, breath hitching when his knuckles brush against her hand. “Just where is this diner you speak so highly of?”

“Silver Spring.”

“I thought you said DC.”

“It’s close enough.” Emily tucks a long piece of hair behind her ear with a roll of her eyes. “Just trust me.”

It’s the way she says it that makes him wonder if she would do the same for him. Aaron grips the wheel in silence as the cool night air seeps through the open windows. He catches her shiver and is about to offer his jacket when she breaks the silence.

“Make a right up at the light, and then it’s a quick left.” Emily shifts in the passenger seat. Her fingers twitch as if she were still holding a cigarette between them; she tucks her hand against her cheek daintily. She’s very much aware the passenger side is nearly spotless - nothing to indicate someone sits there frequently. No wayward sunglasses or a forgotten piece of jewelry belonging to a significant other. She straightens the wrinkled fabric of her dress and lowers her eyes.She’d had him pegged wrong - certainly he’d had it all figured out, the well intended nature that comes along with a mostly idyllic existence. She imagined a naive wife or girlfriend completely enamored with him, both parties working to make ends meet for bigger and better things - not happiness, for one. That they had in spades. But maybe a white picket fence, a dog and a baby or two one day.

Instead, he seems lonely and guarded, a choice he was forced to make. Circumstances, maybe, she thinks as the traffic light ahead blinks from a glowing green to yellow, to red. It shines a little brighter than usual, a universal warning everyone should understand . It makes her shiver again.

“Here. Take my jacket” The red light gives him the chance to shrug out of the confines of his suit jacket, which he hands over. He palms the wheel a little tighter when she wraps herself into it, the fabric draping over her like a shield.

“This is the place?” Aaron studies the gaudy exterior of the diner, hard to miss and yet, the type of place you wouldn’t give a second thought. The fluorescent lighting nearly blinds him, and he’s somewhat surprised to see through the windows that multiple tables are full despite the late hour. He can hardly conceal his disbelief. “How’d you learn about this place?”

“Word gets around,” Emily says lightly as she slips her shoes back on, wincing slightly when she stands upright, nearly enveloped by his jacket. “I’ve learned not to judge a book by its cover. Maybe you should do the same.”

They find a booth in the back, tucked away from the clamor of the bustling kitchen and constant jingle of the doors. Again they’re left with nothing but silence, a few wayward glances, and two plastic coated menus between them. The haggard waitress only nods abruptly at their order - two black coffees, one with splenda and one without, one slice of apple pie, and two forks.

“You think she thinks we’re a couple?”

“I’m sure she has a lot more on her mind than us.” Aaron twists the paper straw wrapper between his fingers and studies her across the table. What he’s not expecting is to realize she’s doing the same thing - analyzing his body language with a degree of precision that matches his own, an expression that hides what she’s thinking. He wonders if she’s practiced it over time. She wears his jacket like a coat of armor yet she’s curious, the mundane quietness of the diner a stark contrast to their initial surroundings a short time ago.

“How does someone like you end up working for my mother?” Emily asks out of nowhere, direct and forward without an ounce of hesitation. It could be mistaken for an interrogation, he muses.

“Someone like me?”

“Decent. With manners. Not some macho guy with a little man complex or some baggage like that who gets off swinging his gun around.” She blows the straw wrapper across the table; it hits him square in the shoulder and stays here until he flicks it off. She doesn’t seem to notice as the waitress sets down their much anticipated order amidst a promise to come back with some cream for the coffee.

It’s his turn to laugh; he knows exactly what type she’s referring to. He could name more of them than he has fingers. “Trust me, it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.”

Emily carves out a large bite of apple pie with her fork, eyes closing with delight as it disappears between her lips, along with a delicate moan. “This is so good.” She pushes the pie plate towards him. “So then what was it?”

“Bad timing, for starters.” Aaron stabs his fork into the jagged slice of pie, cuts off a bite for himself. His stomach growls; it’s been hours since the early dinner he’d scarfed down behind the wheel on his way back to work the shift he just abandoned. “You’re right,” he says around a mouthful of apple and pastry crust. “That’s really good.”

“Told you.” She proudly lifts her shoulders, momentarily triumphant before she digs in for another bite. But she also looks expectant, ready for an answer, even with another forkful of pie. He supposes he owes her one.

“I wanted to join the FBI,” Aaron begins slowly. It comes to him that she’s only the second person he’s ever told any of this to. He supposed talking about it would make it real, take it from a pipe dream to something that could irrevocably fail right in front of his own eyes.

“The big leagues, huh?” She waves her fork in a circle, and it takes a moment for him to realize she isn’t totally shocked. “I could see that, actually, now that you mention it. You have the poker face for it, at least.” Emily gives a little grin, one that meets her eyes. “But that didn’t happen?”

“Had the application filled out and everything. Was going to send it in.”

“So what happened?”

“My girlfriend … She didn’t like the idea. The recruitment process takes months and basic training even longer. Close to a year sometimes. Haley wanted me to do something a little more traditional. Wanted me home at 6 for dinner and around on the weekends.” He takes another bite of pie, partially to gather his thoughts, and to let Emily give her own.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Well.” The fork in his hand feels heavy all of a sudden; he sets it down with a clatter. “We’re taking a break right now.”

She takes in his words, chuckles a little bit. “I’m a little disappointed in myself. I definitely had you all wrong.”

“You keep saying that.” It’s more of a question than a statement, a curiosity he can’t contain.

“I took you as settled. Happy. With Haley. ” His girlfriend’s name rolls off her tongue; hearing it sounds strange, like she’s saying something she shouldn’t.

“I’m ... figuring things out. We’re figuring things out.”

“Do you love her? Does she love you?” Emily asks directly without hesitation. “If you do, there shouldn’t be much to figure out.”

He stiffens. “I don’t … not love her. But we want different things. At some point, you have to be honest with each other, right? When you can’t make it work, what do you do?”

“I’m definitely not the person to ask.” She laughs but there isn’t any humor in it, more of a resigned sadness if he looks close enough through the rough edges hidden by carefully curated appearance. “Relationships aren’t something I’ve had a ton of luck with.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong people.”

“Maybe.” She looks around the diner, rests her chin in her hands. “I’m pretty directionless myself at the moment, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you.” He takes a sip of coffee, more for something to do with his hands than a need for it. He wants to know more, wants to ask just what could possibly make her directionless. Someone who seemingly had it all.

“Sounds like we’re both lost.” There’s a dreamlike tone to her voice, as if they’re sharing a secret.

“We don’t have to be.”

“If I keep going at this rate, I’ll be a bored socialite by 30 throwing cocktail parties every night and getting drunk by the pool by day.”

“Who says?”

“No one has to say it. It’s … expected of me, I think?”

“Is that so?”

“I’m certainly not following in my mother’s footsteps into politics.” She scoffs. There’s contempt in her voice, for what he deduces is years of being put second, something she never asked for but received over and over again. “What else is there for me to do? Someone has to carry on the family tradition somehow.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says, dragging her fork through some of the remaining bits of pie on the plate. She flicks a crumb into the air. “I’ve never really had a home , you know. Most of my life has been spent overseas. Just staying in one place for a while would be nice.”

“I always wanted to get away.” Aaron laments. “From Manassas at least.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You aren’t missing much there, or so I’ve heard.” She stirs a spoon into her coffee to work in the mess of splenda packets she’s dumped in.

He watches the liquid swirl, her mezmirzation at it. Something comes to him - something he’s always wanted to know. “Is it true you speak four languages?”

Emily looks up from her coffee, temporarily distracted by his question. “Six, actually. French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic, Greek, and some Russian.” She ticks them off on her fingers nonchalantly as if she were counting inanimate objects.

He does a double take. “Six? I can barely handle English.”

“It’s always been easy for me. I just wish I knew what to do with it, you know?”

“When I applied, I remember seeing that the FBI needs linguists. People with language experience to work overseas.” He takes his own fork to the last remaining bits of the pie, watching her face carefully for a reaction. She’s almost unreadable; he can’t discern just what she’s thinking.

She laughs - not the reaction he expected. “You know, applying for the FBI would absolutely piss my mother off entirely. She would hate it if I did that. Kind of makes me want to do it.”

“She and Haley should meet. I’m sure they’d have lots to talk about.”

“You want to hear what I think?” Emily says after a few long moments, the coffee and the pie that once sat between them are now gone. “I think you should go for it. The FBI. Do it and don’t look back. And call your girlfriend. Let her talk, but tell her how you feel.”

“And?”

“If she comes back, then you know it’s meant to be.”

...

“Never even knew this place existed,” Aaron says, lingering at Emily’s elbow as they pick their way across the pebbled driveway of the diner. She’s a little unsteady on the heels now, not unsurprising given the late hour and the time they spent sitting down.

“Who knew a diner in the middle of Silver Spring Maryland would have such great pie?” Dangling from her wrist is a to-go bag with an extra slice of pie for the morning - the waitress had kindly given her one on the house - the leftovers from the day before.

“I thought New Jersey was the diner capital of the world,” Aaron muses. “New Jersey is all about their diners and traffic circles.”

“And Bruce Springsteen,” Emily adds pointedly. “He’s from New Jersey.”

“Him too.” Aaron laughs quietly. The tension in his shoulders mounts; he doesn’t want this to end. He wants to talk to her, wants to keep her there. But the moment feels final. Emily catches the wrist of the hand that reaches out to cup her cheek, wraps her fingers around it. “If things were different -” he starts quietly, looking almost embarrassed.

“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to go, is it?” Emily leans into the weight of his calloused palm, into the touch of a man that isn’t her own. It feels foreign, like she’s taking something that isn’t hers. “I don’t think that’s in our cards, Aaron. Maybe in a different life.”

The ride back to DC is again silent, save for the crinkling of the paper bag in her lap. Aaron skips the main entrance and the long paved driveway, taking a shortcut around the massive property to the South Gate entrance. Emily side eyes him, looking slightly impressed. “Trying to remain inconspicuous?”

“I think that’s for the best.”

“I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet,” she offers as he pulls up to the outside of the South Gate. “For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

“Maybe.” He tells himself to pull away, curling it back around the steering wheel protectively. “Remember what I told you, Emily.” He watches her reach for her shoes, their moments together dwindling down to seconds. “Don’t live your life on the terms of someone else. Especially your mother. If our paths cross again and you’re a bored socialite throwing cocktail parties, we’ll have to talk.”

She loops some hair behind her ear, gives him a small smile. “If our paths cross again in ten years and you aren’t leading some FBI unit somewhere, I’ll have some words for you as well.” She draws a breath, carefully slips on her shoes. “Thank you for the pie, Aaron.” The creak of the passenger side door is the only thing he hears as she slips away like a ship in the night, not to turn back around.

Aaron watches her disappear across the grass, blending into the deep blue of the early morning, the sky not quite awake but out of the depths of night. She’s a shadowy dark figure amidst the promise of a new day. The clock on the dashboard nears 6:00 AM. The little red numbers glow are a reminder of the inevitable crash that will most definitely come later on. He isn’t 20 anymore, after all. But when he drives away, there’s a sense of renewal, one he can’t explain, but deep down understands.

He hands in his resignation before he can work another shift, and he never does make up the time he promised. Three days after that, he mails a thick packet of papers in a standard manila envelope to the FBI Headquarters in Quantico.

A week after that, he takes out his phone and dials Haley’s number. About thirteen years later, his son comes into the world, wailing and screaming with healthy lungs and a head of dark hair. Haley is tired and beaming, his pride is obvious as the tiny bundle is placed in his arms.

They name the baby Jack.

In some ways, the stars aligned.

He’ll sometimes wonder if Emily’s did too.

…

Present Day

“Why didn’t things ever work out between the two of you?”

Dave’s voice brings him back to reality, out of the daydream he’s held so close to his heart for so many years. It’s jarring at first, a confusing limbo of then and now, past and present blending together for a few long moments. He glances around, the harsh overhead lights glaring bright, the low hum of hospital sounds reverberating through his ears. Along with it comes the reality of why he’s there, and the bitter rush of fear that floods his consciousness.

“Timing.” Aaron spins his now empty coffee cup in his hands. “Even after Haley and I got divorced, it was never the right time.”

“You’re going to blame timing ? That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“I never wanted to take the risk.” It’s the closest thing he can think of as truth. They built a tentative friendship after a rocky start, something built on mutual respect. His divorce brought new challenges - co parenting amidst a ridiculously stressful career, supporting and leading his team. Emily had always been one to hold her own, a silent backbone of their team, a friend to all of them. He’d relied on her, never wanted to lose what they had in hopes of something else . Ian Doyle had taken her from them all; her return was tense and it didn’t take a profiler to understand that Quantico just wasn’t home to her anymore. He let her walk away, encompassed by a fragile shell of his own tentative happiness, and in the years after she went to London, there was a permanent hole in his heart that never quite mended itself again. “Maybe I should have.”

“Love is a choice, Aaron. It doesn’t just happen. You have to choose to make things work.” Dave leans back in his seat, checks his watch, an eyebrow arching just a bit. “I thought you would have known that by now.”

“You and Krystall made a choice?”

“We still do. Every day we have to choose to love each other. Some days it’s easy. Others, not so much. But you know the best part?”

“I think you’re going to tell me anyway, Dave.”

“It’s never not been worth it, Aaron.” There’s a subtle gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before. “Something tells me you might just feel the same, if you gave it a chance.” Dave fumbles for his phone, patting the pockets of his jeans and then that of his blazer before finally pulling the phone from his breast pocket. He flips it open, his eyes widening at whatever message lights up the tiny screen.

“What is it?” Aaron asks with baited breath.

Dave looks up from his phone. For the first time since all of this began, he looks full of hope. “Emily’s out of surgery.”

…

The surgeon is pleased with the outcome of Emily’s procedure, and the air around them seemingly lightens with each minute he explains the procedure, and its success. The three of them hang on every word he says, asking questions and seeking assurances.

“She should be awake within a few hours. We’ll know more then, but her brain activity is good, and her vitals are strong. Agent Prentiss got very lucky. I have patients who often have a very different outcome.”

The relief is palpable, as if the tension was cut with a knife as they all exchange optimistic smiles and tentative handshakes, while profusely thanking Emily’s surgeon. Aaron excuses himself to call Jack - something he should have done hours ago. “I’m not going far,” he reminds Dave, his words a warning of what to do if anything changes in the next few minutes.

“We’ll be right here.”

Mendoza is shrugging into his jacket and digging for his keys with a look of resignation on his face. He catches Dave’s sideways glance. “I think it’s time I head out, Dave. Please give Emily my best wishes on a quick recovery when she’s discharged.” There’s a change in his voice, one that wasn’t there earlier.

“You’re leaving?” Dave asks curiously. “You aren’t going to stay and see Emily? It shouldn’t be much longer before we can go in.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

Mendoza shakes his head, runs a hand over his scalp. “I learned something tonight. You know when it’s just not meant to be, but you can’t find the reason why?”

Dave nods, a glimmer of understanding appearing in his eyes. “I do. I know it very well, actually.”

“I think I found the why.” His eyes roam around before they finally land on Aaron and Dave’s do too. The phone is still pressed to his ear but he’s still staring right into Emily’s room, never once looking away, even as his mouth moves in conversation to Jack on the other end. “I tried to deny it, so did Emily. But I don’t think her heart ever belonged to me. I think it belonged to him.”

—

Emily finally wakes up a few hours later. Aaron and Dave wait outside the room as she’s tended to by a horde of surgeons and nurses, testing brain function and vital signs, spattering off medical terms with ease. It’s a language only they understand, one Aaron never wants to learn. But their voices are hopeful, they have smiles on their faces as they talk to Emily, assessing her cognition and running tests. She’s a little confused and extremely tired, but awake and alert . Dave is just as relieved to see things appear normal; they’re both very aware of just how lucky they got.

Eventually, they’re finally allowed to see her.

“Do you mind if I … “ Aaron trails off, except he doesn’t need to finish the question.

“Go, Aaron. I take it you have some things you want to get off your chest,” Dave quips. “I’m going to call the others and give them an update. They’ve been waiting awhile.” He departs with a pat of encouragement on the back, a shared moment between them.

Moments later, he’s back in her room, at her side on the same uncomfortable chair from earlier. Her eyes flicker open once again, widening almost impossibly when she sees him. Years of unanswered questions are written on her face in seconds, a shared history fraught with more than what most people experience in a lifetime. But there’s something oddly content there too, as if she woke up from a dream that has somehow materialized in front of her.

“Hey,” Aaron says softly, reaching out with a nervous hand to touch her for the first time in years . He dodges wires and IV lines, finds her fingers with his own and gives a gentle squeeze. “You’re up.”

“You’re here?” Emily blinks with confusion, still making sense of just how she got there in the first place. “But I thought you were .. you and Jack are in Philadelphia. What are you doing here?”

“Of course I’m here,” he says soothingly, ignoring her question. They can talk about that later. “How are you feeling?”

Emily gives a wry grin, slightly distorted and weak, but there. “They asked me who the President of the United States was.”

It’s his turn to smirk. “What did you tell them?”

“To ask me after 45 leaves the Oval Office,” she says without hesitation. “I think I made at least two of them laugh.” But then something comes over her face, the reality of it all setting in. “You came all this way,” she croaks, throat raw from the intubation tube. “How did you know about all of this?”

“You were there for me, remember?” He’s not only talking about Foyet, but all the years she spent at his side. The years they spent doing a dance around one another, their steps never quite aligning. This time feels like a second chance he never thought he’d get, one he can’t mess up.

“That was a lifetime ago, Aaron. So much has happened since then.” Emily tries to sit upright, pushes herself up about halfway before exhaustion overtakes her. She grumbles in frustration; he shouldn’t smile but he does. It means the Emily he knows, the Emily he fell in love with years ago is somewhere in there.

“Take it easy,” he soothes, adjusting the pillows so she’s more vertical than horizontal. He uses the opportunity to press a kiss against her forehead. He touches his own to hers and murmurs, “That’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

A smile spreads across her face, just as brilliant as the night he met her. She remembers it all, just as well as he does. “Funny how it always seems to take one of us dying to figure things out.”

“What are you talking about?” It’s a morbid thought, one he can’t entertain for long because despite his question, there’s an element of truth to it. He brushes some hair from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. It’s matted in his fingers and dirty yet he doesn’t even notice. His heart swells, the hand in her hair trails down to her cheek, a thumb against the blush that spreads there. “And by the way, that’s not funny.”

“I’m saying maybe after I get out of this place,” she gestures to the mess of monitors and wires and tubes, “You can ask me out on a date. Finally.”

“Anywhere,” Aaron agrees. He would go anywhere, if it meant he could be with her.

“I know a place in Silver Spring. Supposedly they have the best apple pie in DC.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #young hotchniss #Aaron Hotchner #Emily Prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Aaron x Emily

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

opposites

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: college!au, good girl!rosé, bad girl!reader

warnings: none

synopsis: They say opposites attract, and when the campus’s resident sweetheart falls for a bad girl, Rosé discovers just how true that statement is.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME OMGGGG hope you enjoy, and I’m glad you like my blog ❤

word count: 3.6k

Chaeyoung has never quite believed that opposites attract.

To be fair, she doesn’t have much experience to go off of. Despite being attracted to basically every person she meets, she hasn’t actually dated much. (As her friend Jennie jokes, she’s not bisexual, she’s by herself.)

And obviously, she’s not only attracted to people soft and sweet like herself. Especially in college, it’s more likely to find people in sweats and ratty T-shirts than people in pink sweaters and cute dresses.

It’s no secret that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic, convinced that she’ll find someone who she just works with. It’s also no secret that she’s determined to find someone similar enough to her that a relationship would actually work out.

Imagine her surprise when her next crush is the complete opposite of her.

You’re utterly fascinating to Chaeyoung; every little detail about you absolutely contradicts her, and she thinks her parents would faint if they saw you. Unlike Chaeyoung’s usually well-styled hair, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed to go to class. Your leather jackets and heavy denim look stiff to the touch, and your dark circles, tattoos, and piercings are enough to ward all your classmates away.

But somehow, all of it just draws Chaeyoung in more. She’d never dream of dying her hair as much as you do, or getting as many tattoos as you have, but for some reason, you intrigue her.

She still doesn’t believe opposites attract. You might be gorgeous, but Chaeyoung is sure that your personalities would clash, and a relationship, however imaginary it may be, would never work out.

Of course, she’s also not willing to admit that she’s wrong to her friends, all of whom insist that opposites do attract. She just knows Lisa would gloat, and Chaeyoung is never giving her friends that satisfaction.

“Who’re you staring at today?”

Chaeyoung pouts at Yeri, who slides into the seat beside her with a knowing smile. Joy, on the other side, is already following where Chaeyoung’s eyes were earlier. “Hey. I’m not always staring at people.”

“Yes, you are,” the two other girls chorus. “Come on, you’re always searching for ‘your other half’ or whatever,” Yeri rolls her eyes. “You barely focus in class because of it.”

Studiously ignoring where you sit in the lecture hall (3 rows ahead and 2 seats to the left), Chaeyoung scowls and twirls her pen. “Rude.”

“You know I am,” Yeri smiles, beginning to scan the room as well. “So, come on. Who’s your pick of the day?”

Joy narrows her eyes; Chaeyoung’s a bit panicked to see that her friend is already zeroing in on you. “Wait… it can’t be her, right?”

“Who?” Joy whispers in Yeri’s ear, and the youngest girl’s eyes widen. “Chaeng, it’s not her, right?”

The blonde attempts to play it cool, asking nonchalantly, “Who are you even talking about?”

Both girls point at your back, the dark leather of your jacket and the two empty seats on either side of you making it unmistakable that you’re the one they’re pointing at. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s not her, right?”

Y/N Y/L/N. Chaeyoung tests it out on her tongue silently before realizing her friends are still waiting for an answer. “It… maybe, what’s it to you?”

Yeri groans, and Joy shakes her head in what seems to be disappointment. “You have the worst taste, Chaeyoung. I mean, she’s cute, but…”

To be honest, the most surprising part of the entire conversation is that her friends aren’t even teasing about the whole ‘opposites’ thing. “What’s wrong with Y/N?” Chaeyoung can’t help but feel a bit defensive; after all, it’s her taste in girls that was being attacked.

Joy leans in conspiratorially now, despite the professor clearing his throat at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so, she’s kind of the designated bad girl? I don’t really know, but I heard she’s killed someone.”

“What? No, she set a building on fire,” Yeri argues, rolling her eyes when Joy opens her mouth to disagree. “Whatever, whatever. Anyway, she’s bad news. She’s a serial dater, too, and she doesn’t like cats. Who doesn’t like cats?”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows scrunch together as her friends argue. It’s probably not likely that you’ve killed anyone or set a building on fire, but still… a serial dater? None of it sounds good.

“Anyway, she’s the polar opposite of you,” Joy sighs, patting Chaeyoung sympathetically on the arm. “You know, you’re sweet and soft, and she’s… her.”

Suddenly, the professor clears his throat again and raises his eyebrow at where the three girls sit. “Ms. Park, Ms. Kim, the other Ms. Park? Anything important?”

“No, sorry, sir,” Chaeyoung blurts out, cheeks red. She’s not even blushing because she’s been put on the spot, though; it’s because you’ve finally turned around to look at her.

Maybe it’s the eyeliner, but something about your gaze feels like it sees right through her. With the tiniest quirk of the corner of your lips, you turn back around and leave Chaeyoung fully flustered.

Yeah, definitely a player.

Every day, Chaeyoung attempts to work up the courage to sit a little closer to you. She’s not making much progress; to be fair, you can’t blame her, when you’re usually given a 3 foot radius of empty space by everyone.

However, she discovers something new about you every day. She discovers that you drink black iced coffee (she drinks tea), and that you use mint flavored chapstick (she uses strawberry). You prefer cinnamon gum (which Chaeyoung thinks is a bit gross), and you only ever wear black socks (she wears white).

Joy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were Chaeyoung’s opposite.

Of course, it’s just the blonde’s luck when the professor announces a group project, and your name is the only one out of 40 that Chaeyoung knows.

It takes a lot of energy for Chaeyoung to approach you after class. “Hey,” she smiles; you don’t return it. “So, I was wondering if you have a partner for the project? If you don’t, I was thinking we could be partners…”

You look startled at first, though it settles behind a mask of calm indifference immediately. “You don’t have friends?” At the blonde’s wince, you roll your eyes, lips quirking into a smile. “Kidding. Sure. Let’s work together.”

“Great!” Chaeyoung beams, looping her arm through yours. You look even more surprised now, but it’s cute. Everything you do would probably look cute. “I’m Roseanne, but you should call me Chaeyoung or Chaeng.”

“I’m Y/N,” you offer. Your voice is quieter than Chaeyoung had imagined, but that’s probably her fault for thinking your voice was demon-like or something. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Right.” Chaeyoung has no idea how you know how old she is, but she can roll with it. “You?”

You nod, looking anywhere other than Chaeyoung face. “Yeah. Same. So, do you have any ideas for the project yet?”

“No, sorry.” She can’t help the smile on your face, still shocked that you’re holding a conversation with her and not murdering her already. “Let’s get coffee? We can talk about the project. If you’re free, of course.”

“I am.”

And that’s all it takes for Chaeyoung to grin again, grab your arm, and lead you to the nearest coffee shop.

Chaeyoung likes the way you’re honest about what you want. When she offers to order, despite knowing what you want, you quietly ask for the iced black coffee and hand her 10 dollars even when she tries to protest.

You don’t ask about what she ordered, and you make sure she tipped the extra before opening your laptop and asking for ideas.

As the afternoon goes on, you seem to grow more comfortable, and Chaeyoung can let go of some of her slightly forced enthusiasm. She actually finds herself enjoying your dry sense of humor and sarcastic comments, though she can’t really make any of her own.

By the time she has to go to her next class, Chaeyoung’s actually making jokes of her own, and she has your number stored in her phone.

All in all, a successful day.

“Hi.”

You look surprised (or as surprised as you deign to look) to see Chaeyoung sitting next to you in the lecture hall the day after the project was turned in. “Uh, hey.”

“How do you think we did on the project?” the blonde asks, taking out her laptop. She ignores the way you stare at her, hoping that you didn’t want to just forget her existence after the project or something.

“Pretty good. You’re smart, I just helped a little bit.”

Chaeyoung laughs softly, swatting at your arm. “No way, come on. You’re smarter than your leather jackets let on, too.”

“And you’re smarter than your overly sweetened tea lets on,” you tease, a smile twinkling in your eyes.

She scowls and swats at you again, but you dodge this time. “I thought we agreed never to mention that again!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Chaeyoung misses the way you smile at her after she turns to the board.

It becomes sort of a routine to sit next to you during lectures and copy off your surprisingly comprehensive notes. Chaeyoung can’t help but fall deeper and deeper at your ever-tentative smile, at each offhand, yet sweet comment.

All the little details about you, the tiniest things you notice, only make Chaeyoung fall harder. You buy non-cinnamon gum especially for her and keep 2 packs in your bag in case she wants some. Sometimes, you show up with a cup of so-called ‘overly sweetened tea’ next to your own coffee.

You see everything about her, and you both make the most subtle changes so that the two of you complement each other absolutely perfectly. Chaeyoung starts carrying blue pens because you prefer them, while you carry black ones in case either of you forget. You even carry a strawberry chapstick just for her.

Even Chaeyoung starts unconsciously enjoying the smell of your sweet mint chapstick; she wears it sometimes, not because she likes it more, but because she’s curious how it’d taste on your lips.

It doesn’t need to be said that Chaeyoung doesn’t just want to be friends anymore.

At first, she just wanted to understand you a bit better, to relieve her own fascination with you, but the more she learns, the more Chaeyoung is pulled in. It’s more than just a crush now, more than simple butterflies in her stomach.

Now, it’s an unconscious smile always tugging at her lips when you’re not with her, laughing at a joke that wasn’t necessarily actually that funny. It’s adapting to fit with you, and it’s accepting that maybe opposites do attract after all.

The only thing left is to introduce you to her friends.

“Are you ready?”

You frown, tugging at the sleeves of your leather jacket. Chaeyoung’s heart warmed when you offered to tone down your look for her, but she didn’t want you to change anything about yourself, so you just went with your jacket. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great!” the blonde beams, waving at Yeri and Joy, who she sees a few yards away from the huge table the two of you occupy. Behind them, Jisoo, Jennie, and Lisa lag, though they’re too far away to clearly see you.

Yeri’s expression isn’t exactly favorable; she stops right in her tracks to talk furiously to the others, and Chaeyoung frowns at the unreadable expression on your face. “Um… don’t worry, Y/N-ah. They’re probably just… talking about what to eat?”

“Sure,” you mutter, looking down. As the other girl has discovered, despite all your bravado and sass, you’re quite self-conscious. “It’s not like pizza is the only food this place offers.”

There’s no time for the blonde to reply; Jisoo, ever the tactful one, sits first and offers a tight smile. “Chaeng, good to see you. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” If Chaeyoung didn’t know you well enough, she wouldn’t be able to see past the mask of bored confidence you put on. “Jisoo, right? I’ve heard of you.”

The oldest girl flushes and nods. “Um, these are Jennie, Lisa, Yeri, and Joy.” They raise their hands or nod when their names are called, though their expressions are hostile.

Just as Chaeyoung opens her mouth to try and break the awkward silence, Lisa leans forward with her eyes narrowed. “So. What do you want with Chaeyoung?”

“Lisa!” The younger girl is usually sweet and puppy-like, but she’s also notoriously protective of her friends. Chaeyoung doesn’t miss the way your eye twitches just the slightest bit, and she resists the urge to put her hand on your arm. “Stop it.”

“What? You can’t deny this feels an awful like you’re introducing your girlfriend to us, and she’s the worst girlfriend you could have,” Lisa scowls, crossing her arms.

You sigh, shaking your head and standing up. Joy actually lurches back in her chair, as if expecting you to beat her up, but you just toss a quick smile to Chaeyoung, picking up the leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. “I think we’re done here. For your information, I’m not dating Chaeyoung, even though it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

All the other girls stare at you, including Chaeyoung, as you continue, “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume. I appreciate that you care for Chaeng, but this is not the way to show it.”

With that, you’re gone, a light brush of your fingers on Chaeyoung’s shoulder the only way for her to tell that you aren’t angry at her.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, though, she scowls at her friends, hissing, “What the hell, Lisa? It was not your place to say any of that.”

The younger girl looks sheepish now, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I… I’m sorry.”

Jennie, though, rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chaeyoung. It’s what’s best, you don’t want to be dating her. She’s only going to break your heart.”

“I’m not that fragile, are you serious?” It’s honestly pretty uncharacteristic for Chaeyoung to actually be mad, but she can’t seem to control her words when her relationship with you might’ve been ruined. “It’s not your business anyway.”

Jisoo bites her lip, reaching for Chaeyoung’s hand across the table. “Chaeng, please. We just want what’s best for you, and Y/N isn’t that. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. “Sure. I understand,” Chaeyoung exhales, sitting back. Despite everything she wants to say to her friends, she knows that they have good intentions, however misguided.

She’ll talk to you tomorrow.

You don’t show up to class the next day, and Chaeyoung sits alone in her usual seat, feeling empty when you’re not quietly making snarky remarks beside her.

It’s odd, and it really shows how much you’ve ingrained yourself into her life.

After a day of thinking, Chaeyoung has come to realize that, despite all her friends’ warnings, she does have feelings for you. She wants to be with you, to enjoy the little things and the small moments together, and she thinks you might feel the same way.

Obviously, she’s still too cowardly to actually go to you and tell you.

After you don’t show up for the next 2 classes, Chaeyoung dials your phone. You don’t pick up there, either, and she’s left to frown at her phone in the middle of the road.

She’s not a passive person, so she fully intends to do anything she can to make you talk to her.

On Monday, she decides she’ll text your roommate Miyeon, but she gets caught up in classes. On Tuesday, Chaeyoung thinks she’ll bring you some notes, but she forgets to write an extra copy. On Wednesday, she catches a cold and Lisa refuses to let her go anywhere.

A week passes exactly like that.

Finally, 9 days after the disastrous lunch, she manages to get your dorm room number from the office lady she bribes with homemade cupcakes. You’re always home for lunch, probably because you don’t eat with anyone but Chaeyoung.

Her heart thuds in her chest as she rounds the corner to head into your hallway, the buzz of other students around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She knocks three times- one, two, three- on your door and she waits.

You look terrible when you open the door.

The permanent dark circles under your eyes are ten times darker than usual, and your lips are dry and chapped. You wear a rumpled Disney shirt that Chaeyoung would tease you about if she wasn’t so concerned. “Um… cupcakes?”

“Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem.” The blonde watches you pour out some cheap, college-student coffee at the tiny desk in the corner of the dorm. “I was just concerned. You haven’t been to class in a while, you know?”

You sigh and hand her a cup of piping hot tea, already sweetened just like Chaeyoung likes it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hey.” Leaning over, Chaeyoung places her hand on yours, ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at the skin-to-skin contact. Judging by the blush on your face, you feel the same. “You can tell me anything, okay? We’re friends.”

You almost seem to wince, though Chaeyoung doesn’t know what for. “Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Was it my friends?” the blonde persists, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. “I know that they were really rude, but I promise I don’t care about anything they say, okay?”

Scoffing, you stand up, seemingly to get more coffee, even though your mug is full. “I’m not that shallow, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Despite knowing she sounds desperate, Chaeyoung’s mind is racing for an explanation, anything that could tell her why you’re avoiding her. “Please talk to me.”

The beat of silence that passes only makes Chaeyoung feel more anxious, like her brain is spinning in circles inside her head, and she almost jumps when you speak again. “Do you… do you like me?”

“I… of course I do! You’re my friend, I like you very much.” The blonde is well aware that that isn’t what you meant, but she can’t help but avoid what she really wants to say as she babbles on, “Why? Do you want me to show my platonic love for you more often?”

“Chaeyoung.” You place your hand on hers and lean forward with a serious expression on your face that honestly scares Chaeyoung. “I know that you won’t tell me honestly any time soon, so I’m just going to say it first. I like you. A lot, and not as a friend.”

As the other girl’s jaw drops, you continue on, the overly quick speed of your speech letting Chaeyoung know just how nervous you are to say all of this. “I know that I have a reputation, and I know that I’m too closed down or boring, but you’re nothing like that. You’re so sweet and gorgeous, and I just… really like you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Chaeyoung reaches for you again, eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. She doesn’t find any. “You’re not boring, Y/N, not in the slightest. And I like you too, every little thing about you.”

“I don’t think you know enough about me to say that,” you try to deflect, but the blonde shakes her head.

“You’re so sweet to me, Y/N, and it’s not your fault that no one else can see it, but I do. I see all the little things you do for me, and I fall for you more every day. Maybe I don’t know enough about you, but I want to learn. If you’ll let me.”

A short pause occurs before you exhale quickly, swiping away tears Chaeyoung didn’t notice were about to fall. “Okay. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Chaeyoung sits back again, but just as you’re about to get up, presumably to busy yourself with a drink or something, she blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The surprised look on your face is so endearing that she’s already grinning when you smile softly. “Of course you can.”

The moment that you bend down and press your lips to hers, so soft and gentle, is the best of Chaeyoung’s life. She can finally taste the sweet mint of your chapstick, mixed with the unique taste of you, and feel the way your lips are slightly chapped against her own. When you pull away, Chaeyoung loves the flush to your cheeks that mirrors hers, and she can only grin when you move away to get your coffee.

Maybe opposites do attract after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something again?”

“You already did,” you joke, then laugh when the other girl pouts. “Sure, Chaeng. What?”

“Do you hate cats?”

An offended gasp escapes from you, matching your expression. “No, who hates cats? I think that’s the worst rumor about me yet.”

The blonde protests, “What about the one about you murdering someone?”

Sniffing and sitting with your coffee, you say, “I stand by my case.”

Cupping your face with her hands, the cuffs of her sweaters brushing up against your cheeks, Chaeyoung presses another kiss to your lips. The taste of mint and coffee, strawberry and tea, is the most perfect combination she could ever imagine.

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pepperonitimeline · 4 years ago

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There is an interesting emphasis on timelines in Steven Universe

but like. Why?

Hypothesis: Steven Universe is made up of multiple timelines, but shown in an order that makes the events seem linear. read part 2 here!

I'm not the first person to speculate this at all. A lot of this stuff has been pointed out by @dogcopter @arrozbrillante @stevenutheories and many others on various platforms!

I just gathered the most conspicuous "evidence" into 1 post. If you’re interested in SU theory and analysis you should check out their blogs. :o) This was as short as I could make it..

And a big thank you to @love-takes-work for her podcast summaries!!!

So, most ostensibly there’s Garnet, who can see multiple futures. In Pool Hopping she begins to call her visions timelines specifically.

Garnet: In this timeline, we do the opposite of that. Hey, you! Have a pizza!

Steven: Hey, Vidalia's house is around here. Let's bring her the last pie.

Garnet: Now, that would be nice. She must be upset that her son was taken into space by those Homeworld Gems. (referring to the events of I Am My Mom)

Steven: You mean Onion? He isn't in space. He's right over there. *points*

Garnet: Sorry, I-I must be thinking of a different timeline.

Garnet: My bad. I was sure we were in the pepperoni timeline.

Garnet: It's important to keep in mind that all these horrible things did happen to you in alternate timelines. Safety is fun.

In Steven and The Stevens:

Yeah

It was confirmed on the podcast that the Steven we see from that episode on is a different Steven than the one from episodes 1-21. In “The Fantasy of Steven Universe” Sugar explains:

"I think, early on, we knew for sure what we wanted to do was to create episodes that feel self-contained but give you a new piece of information or change the characters fundamentally. So, Steven and the Stevens, is tight but Steven does change fundamentally after having that experience. He's not the same- in THAT case he's LITERALLY not the same character..."

It’s muffled because they're all laughing but right after they say this Matt Burnett goes “He died.”

Link to the episode

Love-takes-work also has a text summary of the episode

youtube

But something I haven't seen discussed very much is the time travel chase scene. Granted it’s very blink-and-you’ll miss it, there are some Stevens who witness the other Steven’s fighting but that don’t end up in the Sea Shrine at the end.

Way back in 2015 @stevenutheories already did the math as to how many alternate timelines may have stemmed from the time shenanigans: 3 to 5. Not counting the original one who is definitively gone.

Technically quantum mechanics don’t work like that and those Stevens should have been Thanos’d too. I’m not going to pretend I understand physics, that is just what I’ve been told by someone who does. But then again the magic time thingy wasn’t bound by rules of real-life physics in the first place… so ??

Let’s cross-examine SATS’ accompanying KBCW post.

“At any given moment, if you asked me what I was thinking about, the answer would be one of two things: katana swords, or THE POSSIBILITY OF ALTERNATE TIMELINES RUNNING PARALLEL TO OUR OWN!

Proving the existence of these timelines can be pretty tricky, even for a seasoned paranormal investigator such as myself. An inter-temporal incursion caused by the momentary weakening of the time-space continuum doesn’t really photograph well. And all the cross dimensional time travelers I know don’t want to go on the record about their experiences. Frankly, the only thing I can submit as evidence of alternate timelines is the fact that THEY ARE PROBABLY JUST SO COOL AND AWESOME THAT THEY HAVE TO BE REAL.

Think about it! What about a universe where that asteroid missed Earth and we had DINOSAURS for pets instead of dogs? Or a universe where someone was like “Hey, zeppelins are way cooler than planes, let’s just do that!” Or a universe where AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF ME CAN GROW A FULL BEARD?! What an amazing life that Ronaldo must have… in THIS stupid reality I have a really hard time getting my moustache to connect to the rest of my facial hair and it’s incredibly frustrating.”

KBCW and Ronaldo’s commentary in general are usually half-right. Like the “Polymorphic Sentient Rocks are aliens who want to hollow out the earth… to make it lighter so they can transport it back to their star system” thing.

I can't help but think the "Dinosaurs for pets instead of dogs" is a reference to the live action Super Mario Bros. movie- where the meteor that killed the dinosaurs sent them to a parallel universe instead, causing mammals to go instinct in said universe. (Don’t know about the zeppelins.)

And then, and THEN there’s Keep Beach City Safe, KBCW’s more obscure rival blog run by (most likely) Onion under the pseudonym "The Observer". Apparently he’s planted cameras all over town to record Steven’s adventures. There's also a "Recruiter" and second mystery narrator calling themselves "Marco Díez", it's a whole thing,

Assuming it’s real, here’s one of the posts I think are the most relevant.

“I have been on zero gem hunts over the years, and what i have learned over the years is: always be prepared for anything, and everything. Connie’s already knows that and this her first mission. I, wasn’t so fortunate on my first mission. It was a crisp Autumn morning, - with notes of cinnamon in the air. I was the mountains, the air temperature, humidity and level elevation levels, were perfect.

Then, I noticed the creature, it was charging me. I tried to evade the gem monster, but it just kept on coming, and coming! There was no escape! And then- Wait! I just remembered. I never been on a gem hunt! So where did I get that story from?”

This was posted on August 1st alongside Gem Hunt… and the day after the Greg The Babysitter post, which was deleted earlier this year, right after people started interacting with it again.

Being a Babysitter is hard, especially if your Greg Universe. This guy, in the picture above me. Wait did I just become self aware? Hey, I did! Haha, I always knew I was more to me than just a narrator. Actually this is the first time I thought about, Because I'm self aware baby! Woohoo, yeah! Wait, what was I talking about? Ah yes, Gregory. So this Greg guy,Has to Babysit this cool baby, because he owes her for letting him mooch off her. And Greg, is like totally irresponsible, he some how lets the baby climb a Ferris Wheel. How does that even happen? This dude is so not getting payed. And what's up with his hair!?!

So here it is, another story, told by Greg, about his past self. I wonder how many times I started a paragraph with the word so. And when he was telling this story, we got some clues that could finally tell use when all of this started. We know about the gems and what happened thousands of years ago, but we don't know about the hems and what happened thousands of years ago. They wee being very vague about the whole thing. Almost intentionally, well it was obsessively intentional.

There are subtle inconsistencies in Beach City's layout. ("The Observer" points this out, too.)

Remember Danny’s? In Bubble Buddies and Joking Victim, there’s a shop named Danny’s Salt Water Taffy.

Then in Watermelon Steven it’s gone.

As for a prop: Chaaaaps used to just be Chips

That’s from Monster Buddies, the episode right after Steven and The Stevens.

It's just as likely someone on the show simply thought the background/chips looked a little too busy or whatever. But re-doing stuff costs a lot of time and money, yknow? Neither of which is the animation industry very generous about. Did you know even props have model sheets?

Of course it could just be another brand of chips. Maybe Utz got involved somehow.

Lastly I want to highlight a quote from a Rebecca Sugar interview regarding SU ending.

“The story is continuing off screen and I do know what happens next, at least in certain timelines, for the characters,” Sugar says. “But I would have to decide how and when I’d want to dig into that, or if it’s best to give them their privacy.”

yeah so like what the fuck

#steven universe theory #su theory #long post #multiple timeline theory #deep lore #don't judge my blog theme im still working on it #only 2014 kids remember Danny's Salt Water Taffy

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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Mold Me New (1) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Introducing the reader’s backstory, exploring her life as a wife and then as a single woman who is slowly getting to know herself as an individual person.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are mild curse words, a bit of a sad vibe regarding falling out of love and getting a divorce, description of several bad dates and good ones that end badly, mention of getting drunk, mention of sex toys, mention of one night stand.

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines, and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

I forgot to mention, bc I’m dumb and bc we’re becoming one body with two souls, but this chapter (as most of the decent, edited things I post) was beta read by the magical @joheunsaram (she’s recently lost her previous blog and she’s rebuilding it, please go say something nice and YOU SHOULD FOLLOW HER SHE’S A QUEEN ,,,,, my queen 🥺✨)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

When you fall in love with someone, the feeling is like entering a chocolaterie. The scent engulfs you, full and rich and sultry, igniting your senses, the heat making your skin glisten in a light sheen of perspiration, making you exceedingly vulnerable to pointless stuff, like the way your lover exhales. Or their hands skimming your arms.

At least, that was what your best friend had told you.

You had none of that. To you love was a daisy being twirled under your nose, sharing cotton candy, the smell of crisp apples, flannel sheets, the sound of dead leaves crackling under matching footsteps, a sturdy but shiny steel band around your finger suddenly substituted by a golden one.

That had been the beginning of the end. When practicality and simplicity had turned into conventionality and disinterest.

When gifts stopped being things you loved and became things he thought you loved. And then things everyone loved.

When love became a chore, that's when everything crumbled. When kisses became just a good morning and a welcome back, when there were no more laughs echoing in the kitchen, when leaves kept falling but it was your footsteps alone making them crackle, when flannel sheets kept feeling warm but still something was missing — because someone was missing — when suddenly there was no more time for fairs and cotton candy, when daisies became roses, Love stopped making sense. It stopped having a meaning for you.

You were no longer sure of the life you had built with the man of your dreams, the boy you had fallen in love with when you were eight, the guy who had walked with you across the corridors of your high school, who had made you twirl under the lame disco ball of your prom, who had gone through college finals with you, who had spent three summers making your hangout spot into a home, turning the small old shack into a proper place for you to build a new life together. He was your first kiss, your first valentine, your first time. He was the man at the end of the aisle, the man who would walk with you until the last of your days.

But one day he started running and you still walked.

Or maybe you were both running in different directions, no longer on the path to the same destination, your priorities somehow switched.

Of course, it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either.

You had both participated in this small unraveling, and you had both expressed the intention of changing, of finding compromise, an in-between, without either of you actually making the effort of fixing your trajectory, small habits and old pet peeves pulling you even farther apart.

The attempts — multiple ones — were painstakingly embarrassing. There were tears on both sides as you wondered what had caused this sudden rift that separated you — except it wasn't sudden, only your realisation was; the crevasse had been there for way longer. Maybe it had started as a small chipping the very day you met him, and it wasn't until now that you realised how the small sign had turned into an ominous presence, and then into unfathomable, inevitable doom.

And then the divorce.

It had been disgustingly easy, both parties agreeing on the procedures.

You didn't want the house. And you didn't need it. He didn't either.

Selling it had been exceedingly painless, you had shared the money, since he wanted to offer you stability. He already knew you would both suffer and he didn't want you worrying about rent. He was still your friend, after all.

Going back to being alone scared you at the beginning, until you realised that few things were truly bothering you. At least there wasn't this ghost of a human making you doubt all of your plans. You could plan dinner five days ahead or improvise. You could go to the restaurant as a last minute deal. You could go on long walks without the 'I'm sorry baby, emergency' making you rush back to town.

It felt like a bit of a liberation.

And your family's bookshop was doing well enough, since it was situated near the college and it also offered printing service.

Of course there were bad days. Sometimes you woke up searching for a body beside yours, however that feeling had significantly subdued after you had gotten used to the new bed. You missed human contact, being close, intimate with someone, having someone who knows you that deeply.

And then the true nightmare.

Finding someone new.

You were genuinely uninterested in dating. You had given it a go and it had sufficed.

It wasn't your world.

How could it possibly be?

You had never dated. You had basically offered your heart to the person that has always owned it. It's not like you had any experience in that labyrinth that is dating. All those unspoken social norms and the pining and tension. You only knew the comfort of a warm hug, the beauty of a kiss sparking from innocence and affection and slowly turning into steady, warm passion. You didn't like infernos, you liked candles. You liked the domestic hearth. You liked moderation.

And dating was all about extremes, from strangers to 'I'm inspecting your throat' on date one. And then suddenly it's date three and the same guy who brought you to a pizza place and a diner is suddenly going out of his way to bring you to a pretentious, expensive restaurant as a way to propitiate the possibility of you dropping your panties.

You had allowed this foolery only three times. Apparently all the suitable suitors were either really prone to pushing the pedal or had a passion for tongue gastroscopies.

The first one, Albert, had been quite the gentleman on date one. On date two he started making inappropriate jokes with a heavy body shaming undertone — a bit cliché for the stereotypical gym rat. And on date three he had dropped all pretenses at politeness and had outright palmed your ass in public, which made you rightfully uncomfortable. As you pointed that out, he proceeded saying that after all it was your third date and it was time to loosen up a little.

You didn’t even bother staying for dinner, left a bill on the table and left.

No matter the first disappointment, you decided not to let that disrespectful fool slow you down. And since your best friend knew everything about rat headed number one, you allowed her to set you up with one of her colleagues after she reassured you he was nothing like the one before.

Except somehow he was. The first date was at the local pub, and you somehow found yourself getting along well, his jokes were funny and he had good timing, he was relaxed, confident but still a bit clumsy and shy. He could be a good candidate.

But that was before he pushed his tongue to your tonsils as he kissed goodbye.

You gagged.

On date two he admitted you weren’t exactly his type. You were glad to reciprocate the statement after he told you his dream was having four children and a farm, alluding to the fact that his bride needed to be the perfect housewife.

You were pretty adamant that was not the kind of future you wanted for yourself.

Candidate number three was a guy you had met while grocery shopping, and somehow he had impressed you in an absolutely positive way on date one and two. Everything had been perfect, he was kind, considerate and well-mannered. Date three had been innocent, simple, down-to-earth. And then date four. Perfect dinner at his place. He had made you swoon and he had a very pretty cat he was very affectionate with.

He was the first man you had felt desire for in a very long time — almost eight months after your divorce.

The sex had been decent for being a first time.

And then he had entirely disappeared and never texted or called you back, which didn’t sit entirely wrong with you. You wished him all the best but you were actually glad. You liked being you and doing your own thing: having someone too much down your neck, getting in a relationship, having to check in with another person again felt more like a burden than a win.

Maybe it was just a coping mechanism to avoid facing the fact that he had been someone you could have liked, someone you could have built something with.

You were a happy woman, and it’s not like you really felt lacking or incomplete, like some of your single friends felt. And you had no intention of starting a family anytime soon, no matter if your old high school classmates had begun popping out kids left and right. You were more than happy to live the teen and early-twenty years you had spent in a relationship.

You were getting to know yourself in a way most of your friends didn’t have time to — you could already see them going through a midlife crisis after their kids became old enough to navigate life by themselves, which meant no more need for overprotective, and sometimes borderline suffocating, mothers, who suddenly found themselves with too much free time and too little tasks to complete.

Knowing your needs made you a stronger, better woman, and solitude had gifted you a level of introspection and balance that you doubted they could ever reach; maybe that was an arrogant consideration, but you knew there was no way knowing and loving yourself would ever bring you to crying over disrespectful, ungrateful youth whose only fault was that of growing up out of their mothers’ plans.

Unfortunately, there was no way your family — especially your grandmother — could ever tolerate the idea of you not needing a man and a family to be happy.

“Oh, come on, isn’t it time for you to bring a nice fellow back home?”

You shook your head as you and your grandma took a walk along the river, the sunny March afternoon feeling way too nice to stay at home. “Granny. There’s no people like Grandad anymore.”

“Oh, darling. You’re starting with the wrong role model. Not even back in my days we had men like him. He was the exception.” She nodded to herself with a sweet smile, remembering the husband she had lost a few years back.

“It’s so frustrating. And after all that happened… You know how it was. We were together for years. He was the only one I had. I don’t even know how to do these things. And books cannot teach you stuff like that. The more you read, the more you realise that most of these men had never even seen a rom com.”

“Oh, come on, but you have the internet these days! Can’t you find him in there? You have all these phones and computers and everyone has them, there must be a good one in the internet.”

She always said that “in the internet”. Like it was a physical place.

“I don’t even want to look in there, Granny. There are so many dangers in there.” You shuddered as you thought at the funny instagram pages where the people posted screenshots of the worst descriptions. All the embarrassing playboys and the fishermen and the lame wanna-be poets.

“Right… How can you know he is really is a person?” She considered, patting your back proudly. “You’re pretty. And you’ve always had the most perfect bum of all your cousins. Just like mine!” She grinned cockily, giving a playful smack to your ass, making you laugh loudly.

“It won’t last long.” You said, looking down. Solitude scared you sometimes. Being old and alone could be hard on the spirit and you had a feeling that old hag you would curse your dumb arrogance and inconsideration. However, for now you were still somehow making it through. Your divorce was finalised almost ten months ago. You could still consider yourself just fresh out of it.

“You’re smart. And I’m sure you have a lot to offer. You’re a good woman, and you’re far from being too old. There’s never a thing such as too old. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Look at me.” She said. “I’m still living a good life. Herbert has left me but I’m still here. Walking. Cooking. Drizzle keeps me good company.” She smiled sweetly at the mention of her dog, a lovely large poodle elegantly strolling at her side, its light grey fur finely trimmed by your grandmother’s expert hands. She had been a hairdresser for decades: learning how to keep Drizzle’s coat had been a cup of tea for her and he’d kept her distracted from grief after your grandpa passed away.

Her face formed a meditative pout. “Maybe you should just get a dog. Or even better, a cat. You’ve always looked like a cat child to me. So quiet and focused, like you knew some secret that nature would speak to you alone. You were always so attentive as a child!”

You smiled and looked at the path under your feet. Drizzle stayed unbothered as a loud, angry dachshund walked towards him, barking annoyingly. You had never felt sympathy for that small evil breed.

“I think I could get a kitten one of these days. Or a cat, from the shelter.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in the internet!”

“So we’re really doing the party thing?”

“Listen, baby. It’s gonna be your first party as a free woman. Real mind blowing birthday sex.”

“I’m not a virgin, you know?” You stared at your face in the mirror, spreading some moisturiser over your forehead, inspecting the small lines there. You shrugged and let them be.

Maybe you would spend your best years single and find a sugar baby in ten or twenty years. Wait, weren’t those called toy boys?

Who cares.

Maybe it was time to get the post-grad you had always dreamed of. You would need to check your bank account before making that decision — maybe finally telling yourself yes could be the real birthday gift. That is, beside the huge dildo waiting in your drawer. Not being attracted to men or women didn’t mean you didn’t like sex.

You just found it difficult to imagine being with someone.

“Darling I’d bet an arm and a leg he never gave it to your right. You just need a bit more experience.”

All you needed was a hot bath, some candles and a good book. No man, no one night stand, no birthday sex could possibly make you as happy as decent jazz, wine and a novel.

“Why aren’t we doing that wine tasting at the winery out of town?”

“Because I want you choking on cheap alcohol, having all the fun you didn’t have on your twenty-first birthday because you were planning your own wedding. And I bet you’re the only one who wasn’t fucked in the bathroom of the Wickhead.”

Terry could be incredibly crude, but you loved her nonetheless. You loved her even more for it. She had never hidden anything from you, she had told you even the most embarrassing details of her own life. And she had always been the kindest, most faithful friend: she had driven you way out of town when you were eighteen and your period was late and you needed to buy a pregnancy test without all everyone and their dog knowing; she had chosen your wedding dress for you, spotting it and telling you it was going to be the one before you could even see it. When your marriage had started crumbling, she had spent countless nights with you, keeping you company when your husband was busy with his business trips. Though Terry had insinuated cheating, you knew he would never break your trust like that, and she had decided to trust your better judgement.

You had simply fallen out of love with each other.

And when you had moved into your new apartment, Terry had helped you repaint the walls and build the extra bookcases and install the shelves and fill your wine stand. Before leaving she had grabbed an unfamiliar box from her car, placing it on top of your bed, opening it and spreading out a set of “single necessaire”, as she called it. A couple toys, lube, condoms. To celebrate your re-found sexual promiscuity, she had said, though you objected, it was hard rediscovering something you had never had.

She had shaken her head and left you to “familiarise” yourself with everything.

“You know I’m not exactly a party person, Terry. This will end badly.” You said, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard, your legs stretched out before you.

“You can allow yourself some fun once in a decade, you know?” You could hear her scoff on the phone.

“But I do have fun. Book. Wine. Bingo!” You explained, rolling your eyes as the booed.

“Come on, do it for me. Do it for your single friend who wants to get drunk and possibly sixty-nine? Please?” The other thing wrong with Terry is that if you ever met her in person, you would face the sweetest five foot three and a half — she insisted on the half — human being you could ever meet, with pretty wavy blonde hair and wide, sweet green eyes, the most boopable button nose and a sprinkle of freckles on her golden skin. She literally glowed in sunlight and her flowy gowns always made her look like a goddess: you could see men fighting for her, dying for her and going to war for just one of her gentle smiles.

“Don’t you have a FWB for that sixty-nine thingie?” You asked with an exceedingly inquisitive tone. It had been a while since she last updated you.

“Dumped him.” She replied curtly.

You tutted before exhaling. Emotionally constipated people — what’s wrong with them?

“He’s dating someone since he was ready for a relationship.” Terry sounded a bit colder than usual.

“And you weren’t?” You asked. You felt your tone hesitate with slight concern. You knew she would just put up a wall and ignore your question.

Fortunately, she didn’t. “I’m not ready to talk about that. It’s complicated, Frog.”

She was hurt and wanted a distraction.

“Okay, Terry. We’re going to get rip roaring drunk this Saturday.”

The line went silent.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now go to sleep, you have an early shift tomorrow.”

The line went silent after you bid each other goodnight, your body settling underneath the sheets once you realised your eyes were fluttering shut as you tried to read a few pages to put yourself to sleep.

Placing down the book, you hugged the extra pillow, settling your face in the corner between your sleeping pillow and your spare one, the heavy woolen comforter acting like a weighted blanket. You placed another pillow behind your back, making a soft cocoon all around you.

Yes, sometimes you still missed being hugged to sleep.