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deathbecomesthem · 1 month

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Crawling to the Finish | Part 1 of 4 | 2.6K

I am queuing up all 4 parts of this story, and they will all be released throughout the week on the dates that are indicated on the Materlist. This story is already completed, and I do not intend to revisit it for editing. My emotional labor on this one has already been done.

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else.

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

This one goes out to CJ - you helped me carry my books my junior and senior years of high school because you got to leave class early. You were a real one.

The crutches rubbed the skin of your armpits raw. You’d tried everything. Your mom has sewn pieces of flannel over the arm rests to try to make it more comfortable. It didn’t matter. The only solution was to give it time, let your skin grow tougher. These crutches would be your best friends for the foreseeable future.

The immediate concern after your initial recovery was getting you back to “normal” life. That meant school. The thought of trying to wade through the crowds at Hawkins High while balancing on your crutches was enough to send you into a fury. It was so unfair. Your parents and the administration were determined to make it work.

You would be allowed to leave your classes 5 minutes early, working your way through empty hallways. You could carry your backpack to your classes, despite the rule about keeping them in lockers. You can’t imagine trying to rest your tender hip on the cold desks that could be found in every classroom, but Principal Higgins has a solution for that. One that you’ve promised yourself you’ll never use.

“I’m not sitting on a donut.” Your mom has tried to show you how much more comfortable you would be sitting on a donut designed for hemorrhoid pain. “I’d rather die. I’ll deal with the pain.”

Dealing with the pain was something you always did. You learned early on that complaining about it wouldn’t make it lessen, it just made the people around you make sympathetic noises that set you on edge.

Being on edge is your new normal. Everything set you off. You took everything personally. If someone was overly nice to you, you took it as an insult. Everyone wanted to help, but you wanted to do it yourself. You were so tired of people using you to make themselves feel better. “Oh, I helped that poor cripple girl today when she was struggling with the door. Aren’t I special?”

So, you taught yourself how to do everything – with adjustments. Because you didn’t want to miss out on more than you had to. You gained stamina. You once crutched 3 miles with a group of friends to watch a fireworks display. It almost killed you, and you couldn’t lift your arms the following day, but you did it. And you watched those fireworks with your head rested in your boyfriend’s lap. He never asked if you were ok. He never suggested that maybe he should have stayed back with you and watched them from the back of his truck. So, you did it, and you hid the pain.

It only reinforced the idea that you had to be better at pretending to be fine when that same boyfriend cheated on you while you were in the hospital recovering from surgery last year. You had insisted he not miss junior prom because of you, insisted he take your friend. Megan was one of your best friends, and she was more than happy to do it. You didn’t know that they’d been secretly fucking for months.

Your brain knew that he was a dick, and that what he did was fucking awful. You also knew that you were a burden to everyone around you. Of course he wanted out, but how do you break up with a cripple without being an asshole? The answer was that you didn’t. But that was last year, and this year you didn’t have to worry about boys and friends. You just had to worry about making it to graduation. Fuck the rest of it. You would crawl onto that stage if you had to.

The first morning back to school after the most recent surgery came halfway through your senior year, 3 weeks after having your sixth major hip repair surgery. The previous five were failures. This is a last-ditch effort with a new surgeon. As soon as you turned 18, you left the pediatric orthopedic surgeon you’d been seeing for the last 5 years – he was one of the best in the country – to see someone new. Someone that wouldn’t attach the expectations of pediatric care with your treatment plan anymore. You need a life, and you’ve already lost so much time.

When you saw the new doctor, he looked at your images and said, “this is a mess.” One 6-inch rod attached to your thigh bone and at least 8 pins holding the failed hip fusion in place. His treatment plan was, “let’s take it all out and see what happens.” He promised if you gave it a full 6 weeks to see what happens, he’d do a full replacement. He’d give you your life back.

So, you let him have his little experiment with you. You let your parents hope for some miracle, let them ask their church friends to pray for you. You give your doctor the agreed upon 6 weeks to ”see what happens”, and then he’ll take that diseased bone out of your body and replace it with metal, plastic, and ceramic.

Today is the day you crutch your ass back into high school and try to have a normal day. Completing course work at home has been a breeze, but the district is determined to not be labeled as unfriendly to disabled people, so you’re here now. The first three periods are ok, it’s English, Algebra, and a typing class. Painful, but bearable. The fourth class of the day, American History, started with a bang.

Mr. Willis is a short man with a perpetually annoyed expression. He is known for openly mocking his female students. His room smelled of onions, and his short sleeved white button up shirts always sported yellow-green armpit stains. The onion smell was always worse when he moved around the room, his arms lifted high in the air to get a point across.

The class starts, as all classes do, with a roll call. Perfectly reasonable, nothing out of the ordinary until he reaches your name.

“Y/N – you’re gracing us with your presence today?” His eyes are glaring at you from behind his desk. “That’s a shame.” He stands and walks over to you, his stench trailing behind him, “I need you to go to Vice Principal Brobeck’s office immediately.” He has a disciplinary slip already filled out in his hand.

“What?” You can’t help your tone; it’s confused and annoyed. How could you possibly be in trouble when it’s been weeks since you last sat at this desk.

“Your truancy needs to be addressed by the administration. A string of unexcused absences. Go!” He barks out the last, finger pointing to the door, and you can’t help but scoff at him.

“Uh, fine, I’ll go. Can I ask you, though, are you blind?” You wave your crutches at him while trying to maneuver and get your backpack over your shoulders. “I had surgery.”

He prattles on about your tone and lack of respect to your back as you crutch your way down the long hallway to the administrative offices for the school. You were exhausted already, and adding another trip around the school with your heavy backpack left you feeling angry. You could feel hot tears of frustration burning behind your eyes while you stumble a little at the office door.

The secretary has you take a seat in one of the soft cushion chairs in the entryway, which is a small mercy for your sore hip. Someone is sitting next to you, but you barely register his presence in your current state of distress and pain.

“Uh, what the hell did you do to get sent down to the office?” His voice is playful with you, but you’re not in the mood to engage with anyone.

“My existence in this building is enough, apparently.”

Before he can manage a response, the Vice Principal’s door opens, and he calls your name. The boy in the chair next to you tries to help with your bag, but you just snatch it out of his hands and throw it over your shoulders before crutching into the inner office.

“So, Mr. Willis says you’ve been truant. Do you have an explanation?” You can tell by his glassy eyes that he’s just going through the motions without actually taking in the situation sitting right in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, are you serious right now?” This gets his attention. You can practically see smoke coming out of his ears at your attitude, until he really takes a look at you. The crutches, the obvious pain in your face. “I’ve been out for 3 weeks because I had surgery. I’m back because Principal Higgins insisted the school could accommodate my needs. Call my parents if you want.”

He has your mother on the phone in an instant. You imagine her sitting at the kitchen table just waiting for a call from the school, which is probably exactly what she’s been doing. She’s devoted years to your recovery. As soon as Mr. Brobeck says the word “truant”, you can hear her yelling through the phone line, demanding to speak to Principal Higgins. So it goes.

The boy is still sitting in a chair waiting for whatever punishment is coming for him when you exit the office with both principals at your heels. Higgins is falling all over himself apologizing, promising you’ll have no more problems with Mr. Willis when he spots Eddie.

“Munson, you want to get out of detention?” Your eyes are drawn back to the boy, finally taking him in fully. He’s shaggy haired, wearing leather and denim with big rings adorning his hands. A metalhead. In Hawkins.

“Uh, yes sir.” He’s standing wearing an open face, ready to accept any terms that are offered to him. Your assumption is that most of the staff at the school would use any excuse to give him detention or get him expelled.

“Y/N is going to need someone to help her get from class to class,” You start to protest, but Higgins speaks over you, “how do you feel about taking on that responsibility? You’ll have to leave your classes a few minutes early and make sure she can get around the school without a problem.”

“Of course. If that’s ok with her.” He looks to you. You have no choice but to agree, how can you say no with him looking at you like that? His eyes pleading.

So, it was decided. Eddie Munson, the problem child of Hawkins, would escort you between classes. The assumption from Higgins is that you’ll be happier with a little errand boy helping you, but this boy likes to talk.

“So, what’s with the sticks?” He’s sitting with you while you wait for the hallways to clear before heading to your next class. Would it be rude to tell him to leave me alone?

“It’s complicated. I had surgery a few weeks ago. I’ll probably have another one in a few weeks.” It’s all you can offer.

“Woah, that sucks. Are you new? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Not new. I’ve lived in Hawkins forever.” You could explain that you’ve been in and out of school for the last few years due to your accident and subsequent surgeries, but you don’t have the strength. It also bores you to think about having that conversation with someone new.

“Really? How have I never seen you before?” He’s trying to be friendly. Don’t be a dick to him.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re just not very perceptive.” It’s a low blow, but he laughs at it, which is promising. “Listen, I’m really drained. Can we just sit here?”

“Yeah, no problem. Sorry.” He looks genuinely apologetic, but something about this interaction is different than what you’re used to. He’s not looking at you like you’re broken. He’s talking to you with interest, not pseudo sympathy.

“It’s ok. Ask me questions another time.” You let your head lean back against the wall and try to block out the noise in the room, and the pain zipping down your leg. This last surgery was a short one, but it left you drained. You feel loose, like your body is coming apart without the metal holding you together. You think it must be in your head, and remind yourself that you only need to get through a few weeks of this. It’s nothing, a few weeks is nothing.

You and Eddie have lunch together at his regular lunch table, which you agreed to because he promised his friends would leave you alone if he told them to. And they did, mostly, even though you got a lot of side eyes. Especially from the younger ones. You could see them practically vibrating with the need to talk to you. Especially the one in the hat. You can tell he’s gonna go for it before his mouth even opens.

“So, Eddie tells us he’s helping you get around for your classes.” The kid is being casual, and it’s so endearing, you can’t even be mad. A pretzel hits the kid in the face, Eddie looks like he’s ready to leap over the table and strangle him.

“Down boy, it’s ok.” You give him a little smile, so he knows you’re not mad. “Yes, Eddie’s helping me so he can get out of detention. It works out.” You give the kid the best smile you can manage, which you’re sure looks weak on your blood drained face.

The boy nods a little and says, “That’s a sweet deal for him, though, isn’t it? He gets to leave classes early and he gets out of detention.” Another pretzel is lobbed at the kid’s face, and now you’re giggling.

“You’re definitely right, I’m not sure what I’m getting out of it.”

“Can I ask –“ before the words come out of his mouth, Eddie is walking over to put his arm around the boy’s shoulder.

“Dustin, what did we talk about?” Dustin, you’ll remember that.

“You said that you had a friend joining us and we had to leave her alone. But –“ Eddie tightens his grip, but Dustin persists, “BUT, I just want her to know that as a fellow disabled person, she can talk to me! Ok, I’m done now.”

The rest of the lunch period goes by without any incidents, but Dustin does slide over half of his oatmeal cookie to you at one point with a giant grin on his face. You mouth a little “thanks” and give him a weak smile.

Eddie gets you to and from the last few classes of the day, and even walks you out to your car after your last class. As the day goes on you, you decide to accept his help with as much grace as you can. Especially because the situation is actually helping him too. It makes it easier to swallow. Less like pity.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning, Ilene.” His delivery of the joke is lame, and you let it hang in the air for a minute, letting him squirm. “You get it? Ilene?”

“Yeah, I get it Eddie.” You let your face fall, casting your eyes to the floor of your car. “That’s really insensitive. Maybe I should tell Principal Higgins to get me a new errand boy.” You’re trying to bite back the smirk his lame joke is threatening to bring to your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I thought it was funny –“

You’re giggling at his panic, “Eddie, that joke was so lame, it offended me. Do better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

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creative-caramel-coffee · 6 months

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Texts from the Ex

Pairings: Weems x Reader

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Reader is a fairly new teacher, and you have a panic attack at school luckily not in class.

TW: implied past abuse, stalking, panic attack

A/n Hi guys sorry I disappeared for a hot minute there I just finished the last of my exams and have been very very busy. I’ll be back to posting as per normal (hopefully) now. Thank you all for your support with my exams and to the people who wished me luck with them your all very sweet. Again, sorry about the random ghosting haha.

Also, this fic is Larissa x reader. I know I said this was a platonic fic of oneshots but it was requested (I won't be doing any more romantic pairing for weems or Thornhill in the foreseeable future), this is just a one off so… live with it. (Dw as per usual its SFW)

Your phone screen flashed again as you did your best to hide it under the table and out of sight. The panic swelled in your chest as you pushed the tray of food away.

It had started that morning in your first class. You had been teaching about the renaissance when your phone buzzed in your pocket. As per usual you ignored it, you had a class to teach. The buzzing happened again ten minutes later while the kids were doing some still life sketches. This time you pulled it out, feeling the blood freeze tight in your veins.

How did she get this number. Your ex-girlfriend had managed to track you down, most likely due to your response to the ad for this position a few months back. You had responded with your number like an idiot and now she was onto you again.

She was awful, she ignored you and she had always possessed a special talent to make you feel unwanted and small.

You quickly shoved the phone back into your pocket and drew some deep breathes trying to quell the rising feeling of panic. You had managed to stave it off until the class left. It was only then you had let yourself collapse onto the floor and sob. She was trying to get back into your life to ruin it again.

The messages hadn’t stopped all day. Each one had made you feel closer and closer to the impending panic attack and now you were sat here with Ms Thornhill trying to hold a conversation. However, she was doing about 90% of the talking while you sat there nodding. You were close with the botanist. After all she was close with your girlfriend who happened to be the principle. None other than Larissa Weems herself.

Realising you had zoned out you tried to tune back into what was being said around you. Your phone buzzed under the table again and you began to feel sick. What if Marilyn saw? What if Larissa found out? What if your Ex found you?

Your chest began to feel tight. Constricting slowly and making it harder to take a deep breath. Your head was pounding and your stomach roiling. Your hands were shaking and clasped tight under the desk. Your body was overwhelmed with fear, and it was getting harder to hear Marilyn. It sounded distorted, as if it was under a layer of thick liquid like juice or honey. Things were moving weirdly as well, almost slowly but also too fast.

You thanked God that you had agreed to have lunch with Marilyn in the conservatory away from students. They didn’t need to see the new art teacher having a breakdown over some silly text messages.

“Y/n?” Marilyn asked as she laid a hand on your shoulder. “Honey, are you ok?” She said softly. You recoiled from the touch, and she quickly withdrew her hands into a surrender. “Ok. Ok. Its ok. Im not going to touch you sweetheart. What do you need?” She said and you shook your head, taking shaky breathes which weren’t helping ease the nausea. You curled yourself into a tight ball.

“L-leave me al-lone pl-lease.” You begged. You couldn’t see past the haze of tears and your head hurt so bad.

Marilyn stood back for a second, seeing she was getting nowhere. Suddenly she had an idea and whipped out her own phone.

“Honey? Do you want me to call larissa?” She asked softly. You hesitated and then gave a small nod. “Good. Good. Ok? Take some deep breathes. You're doing great Y/n.” She encouraged and began to dial your girlfriend.

The whole time she was on the phone she studied you closely to make sure you were still breathing and not at risk of passing out. After a few seconds she nodded and said something you didn’t hear before hanging up.

“She’ll be here in a second. Come on Y/n. You can do it. You're doing such a good job sweetheart. That’s it.” She gushed and you let out a shaky sob as you saw a pair of heels enter your vision.

Looking up at her with a tear-stained face Larissa’s heart broke for you. She quickly sat on the floor beside you, uncaring about her expensive suit and pulled you into her arms. She pulled you into her chest and tucked your head under her chin, her arms wrapped around your back. One of your legs either-side of her as you straddled her waist. She rocked the two of you side to side as she brushed her hands through your hair.

She exaggerated her breathing as you listened to her heartbeat and slowed your own. After a bit of just sitting there you took a deep breath of her perfume and released a shaky sigh.

“Hello darling.” She said cooly and with a tender tone.

“Hi.” You said almost shyly. She chuckled.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” She pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and rested her cheek thereafter. “Your safe baby. Your safe. Ok. Im here.” She said still rocking the two of you. After another brief silence she shifted slightly, and you let out a whine.

“Hush. I’m not going anywhere sweets.” She said and you let one last tear fall onto her blazer before playing with her broach and starting to speak.

“She texted again.”

“Who texted?”

“My ex.” You said and you felt her stiffen. You had told Larissa of your time with your Ex and she more than disapproved of her.

“How many times sweetheart.” She said softly.

“Seven.” Larissa sucked in a breath.

“Im buying you a new phone.” She said and you gave a half snort half laugh which made her heart warm.

There was another short pause before you let out a content sigh. “I love you Issa.” You said and closed your eyes and nuzzled into her neck, you were emotionally and physically drained and in desperate need of a nap. Right here would do, you decided as you began to drift off.

“I love you too my darling girl.” She said and kissed your cheek, smiling at the small snores you were making into her neck. She wondered what the students were going to think when she carried you through the hall on her hip like a toddler, fast asleep. Maybe a little bit of a distraction from the students would be good for you she decided.

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slowlyhardgoatee · 1 year

Photo

Come on in and sit down.

Do you mind if I smoke? It’s technically against procedure but I’m working out of hours, so fuck procedure.

Now, in your therapy session last week, we talked about your feelings of inferiority when in the presence of older men. I actually wrote this down as it was towards the end of the session and I wanted to make sure I’d heard you correctly. You said, ‘I like feeling inferior to fat old men, and I want them to treat me as such.’

Just to clarify, then, do you often deliberately take a submissive or subservient attitude when in situations with older men? You do? And does this translate into situations of a sexual nature as well? Forgive the question - I just ask because I notice that during the course of this conversation you’ve been getting hard. Do you like following orders in the bedroom? Yeah?

Okay then, let’s do a little experiment. I am, I can admit, a fat old man. If I were to say to you now, ‘Get over here, kneel down and bury your face in my crotch’, would you do it? Yeah? Go on then.

Oh, yeah. Good boy. You’ve been waiting to do that for a while, haven’t you? I can tell. Go on, boy, get my thick cock out and start worshipping it. Fuck yeah. Down to the fucking root, boy. Yeah. We’ve got an hour session, and you’re gonna spend the rest of it deep-throating my fucking cock while you think about what a subservient faggot you are. Look at you, boy. On your knees with a fat old man’s dick in your mouth. Slut. And you’re paying for these sessions, isn’t that right? I love the fact that I’m sitting here getting paid to have my cock sucked. I think I’m gonna have to sign you up for some extra sessions, boy.

Here, tug on my fucking nipples while you suck me, and all. That’s the fucking stuff, good lad. Yeah, we’re gonna be doing this at least once a week for as long as I want. Sound good, faggot? Yeah, course it fucking does.

Take me out of your mouth now, boy. I’m gonna nut, and it’s going all over your face. Here it comes… here it comes… FUUUUUCCK YEAH, BOY. Look at that face all covered in my cream, you dirty little slut. Oh no, I didn’t say wipe it off, boy. No, you’re walking out of here looking like that, and I don’t care who sees you.

Now, stand up. Here. Take these. Yeah, that’s my dirty undies I’ve been wearing for a few days now. Your homework for this week is to go home, and wank into them as often as possible. Proper load ‘em up. When you come back here next week, I’m gonna stuff ‘em in your fucking mouth while I breed your faggot cunt. Then, as well as further discussing your obvious inferiority to me and other fat old bears, we’ll explore the concepts of collaring and chastity. That’s right, boy, I’m gonna be locking your dick up in a cage. Then I think I’ll have you bury your tongue up my sweaty, hairy arsehole for the rest of the session.

Oh - and one more thing. Bring a spare set of your house keys next week, as well. I take it you live alone? Yeah? Good. Do you also work from home? Excellent. I’m gonna be letting myself into your house whenever I want for the foreseeable future and raping you raw. Any time of the day or night. Hell, I might even get a couple of extra sets of your keys cut and hand them out to some of my mates so they can do the same. Now, get the fuck out of my office. Same time next week, faggot. Don’t be late.

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halevetica · 1 year

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Promise(Sterek)

Here is the Sterek Christmas Oneshot I promised. I had equal interest in the airport idea and also the ski lodge idea. If I can find the time I may try and squeeze in the ski lodge idea, but no promises. Hope you like this one.

p.s I’m not good at fluff, so I apologize in advance.

"No please, you have to understand, I can't be delayed." Derek gripped the edge of the receptionists desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

"I'm sorry, sir, but all flights are delayed until the weather clears up," The blond behind the desk said, not looking up from her computer.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"You're welcome to wait in our lounge area, or if you'd rather, there's a hotel about a mile down the road." She gestured to the small room where an older man was splayed out on a pleather recliner.

"I don't suppose you'd be paying for the hotel," Derek clenched his jaw as the man snored out loudly. He sounded like a feral bear.

The blond finally looked up with a pinched smile. "Unfortunately we can't be held accountable for weather conditions and as such your accommodations aren't covered. But you're welcome to take advantage of our lounge area." She once again gestured to the snoring man.

Derek rolled his eyes as he turned away from the desk.

"Typical, huh?" A brunette man, sitting in a nearby seat, asked.

Derek scoffed. "Yeah." He started towards the sleeping man.

"I'd maybe skip staying in there, he's also gassy." The brunette offered.

Derek's shoulders fell. "Great. And I have to tell my sisters I'll be late to Christmas."

"I know the feeling. I had to tell my dad."

Derek took a seat across from the brunette man. "Instead we get to spend Christmas eve with strangers in an airport."

"Stiles," the man stuck his hand out.

"Derek."

"At least it's not crowded. Perks of a late night flight." Stiles gestured to the barren airport.

"Is anything still open?" Derek asked, glancing around for a bar.

"A few places. Care to wander?" Stiles asked.

Derek was about to politely decline, but the last week with Erica gave him pause. He had promised her he would be better. Better about coming around. Better about not shutting everyone out. He was stuck in this airport for the foreseeable future, he might as well make the most of it.

"Why not?" Derek huffed setting his bag down on the chair.

Stiles set his bag and pillow next to Derek's stuff.

"There was a restaurant down that way that was open a little while ago, if you're hungry."

Derek gestured for Stiles to lead the way.

After being seated with two Reuben sandwiches in front of them, Stiles asked, "So where you headed?"

"California." Derek answered around a bite of food.

"No kidding, same here. Beacon Hills, you know it?" Stiles asked.

Derek raised a brow. "I do actually. I grew up there."

"Whoa, seriously? Same."

Derek narrowed his eyes. What were the chances that two people in a New York airport where going to the same small town in California?

"What are you doing in New York?" he asked.

"Work. I work with the FBI. We get pulled all over sometimes. What about you?"

Derek had not pegged this guy as FBI. "Just visiting a friend. I lived here for a while before moving back home."

"What part?" Stiles pressed eagerly.

Derek, not one for small talk, did his best to remain patient. Stiles was just being friendly. "City."

"Nice. A lot different from the little ol' town of Beacon Hills huh?"

"A lot."

"So how'd you end up on such a late flight?"

Derek swallowed his bite of sandwich with a sigh. "My friend was in an accident. I was staying to help out for a bit."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that." Stiles frowned.

"She's okay."

A silence fell over the pair and Derek was thankful.

"This is gonna be a long night." Stiles pushed away his empty plate.

"Unfortunately. But you know what helps?" Derek gestured to the small bar across the hall. A drink or two always calmed his nerves, and right now he was in need of some calming.

Stiles grinned. "I like the way you think."

With an arm full of mini bottles, Derek and Stiles made their way back to their stuff before setting up in a far corner away from the still snoring man.

"Okay, so lets make this fun. We have to tell a truth and a lie about ourselves and the person has to guess which is which. If they get it wrong they drink. If they get it right, the other person drinks."

Derek scoffed a laugh. "Learn that at a work Christmas party?"

"Maybe," Stiles laughed. "Okay, you first." he pushed a mini bottle of gin towards Derek as he grabbed a rum for himself.

"Okay, I'm the only boy of five siblings or I'm the middle child." Derek leaned back against the wall.

"Hmmm, you don't really give off middle child vibes but you only mentioned sisters and I could see you being the only boy, but five siblings with only one boy is statistically rare, but not unheard of." Stiles pondered. "Middle child is the truth."

Derek's brows shot up. "Whoa, yeah."

Stiles gave a fist pump before gesturing to the gin. "Drink."

Derek tipped back the bottle, taking a long swig. He coughed as the liquid burned his throat. "Alright your turn."

"I'm an only child, or I'm adopted."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Those are so very specific. I'll say you're adopted is true."

"Ooh, wrong answer, drink." Stiles grinned widely.

"Okay, okay," Derek said determinedly as he wiped the gin from his lips after another long swig. "I hate the color blue, or I'm allergic to pineapple."

Stiles laughed, "You don't hate the color blue."

Derek gave Stiles a bewildered look. "How can you possibly know that?"

"Dude, you're wearing a blue shirt and your carry on bag is blue."

Derek sighed as he downed the last of the tiny gin.

"Alright." Stiles grinned. "The mets are my favorite team or the mets are my least favorite team."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "I'm gonna say they're your favorite because if they're not, you're wrong."

Stiles lit up. "Hell yeah, dude." He twisted off the cap of his rum and took a swig.

An hour and four mini bottles later Derek was well past tipsy.

"How are you so good at this?" He huffed tossing aside his newly emptied bottle of vodka.

"You want to know my secret?" Stiles grinned, taking a voluntary sip of his whiskey.

"Yeah, there's no way you guessed that I played basketball in high school."

"I'm a profiler at the FBI. It's my job to read people. I learned your tell on the first question." Stiles smirked up at Derek, hoping he wouldn't be mad.

Derek leaned back, an impressed look on his face. "So you profiled me, huh?"

"Not exactly. I just read your body language and payed attention to things that you said previously."

Derek studied Stiles for a long moment. "So what's my tell?"

"Your eyebrows. You're very expressive with them. Which is actually a funny thought because if it weren't for them, you have a great poker face." Stiles tipped back the last of his whiskey, tossing the now empty bottle with the others.

"Alright, well, congrats. You've gotten me sufficiently intoxicated. What now?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest as if he were accusing Stiles.

"Well now." Stiles lifted his watch. "We have about thirty minutes until it's officially Christmas. What do you say we do a little gift exchange? There's a twenty four hour gift shop I saw on my way in. We each get fifteen minutes to go in and find a small gift and then we have to wrap it and meet at the tree at twelve-thirty."

Derek let out a laugh. This was not something he would normally agree to. "You know what, Stiles? I think that sounds like fun." Maybe he could send a picture to Erica as proof of his promise.

"Here." Stiles handed over his phone. "Put your number in here and when you're done in the gift shop, text me."

Derek took Stiles phone and typed in his number.

Stiles bit down on his bottom lip. Sure it wasn't the most conventional way of getting a hot guy's number, but it worked.

Derek handed back Stiles' phone.

"And now you have mine." Stiles said as he sent a text to Derek's number.

Derek's phone chimed as if in agreement. He looked down at the winky face Stiles sent.

"Good luck." Stiles leaned back as he watched Derek disappear down the hall.

Derek reached the small gift shop. There wasn't a single person in sight, but the lights were on. A small self checkout register was on the far right of the store.

"Clever," Derek muttered to himself as he scanned the store. He barely knew Stiles. What could be possibly get him? He had fifteen minutes to pick something. He stared at the key chains and tacky baseball caps. He lifted a snow globe and gave it a gentle shake. Snow swirled around the tiny city inside.

Derek sighed. He wasn't a good gift giver. He never had been. And now he was limited to a New York themed store the size of his apartment.

He continued to scan the aisles until he reached a small mets section. There were key chains with letters engraved on the back. He reached for the 'S' but paused. Maybe he'd get him one to remember him by. Stiles had taken a shitty situation and made it actually a lot of fun. This would be a memory he'd carry with him forever. He grabbed a key chain with the letter 'D' and started for the checkout. It felt cheap getting him a small key chain. Maybe he'd get him something else too. He scanned the nearby wall of coffee mugs. Stiles had mentioned being a huge coffee drinker. It had been one of the truths in their game.

He lifted one and grinned. 'Sarcasm, just another service I offer' it read.

Satisfied with his finds he headed to the self checkout.

"And with five minutes to spare," he said proudly to himself as he checked the time.

He sent Stiles a quick message before heading for the bathroom. He didn't know what to wrap the gifts in so he would be resourceful. Paper towels would have to do.

He set the gifts on a small bench near the door of the bathroom.

"Shit," he huffed when he saw hand dryers in place of paper towel dispensers. He glanced at one of the stalls.

"Sorry Stiles," Derek whispered as he grabbed a brand new roll of toilet paper. The bathroom had been recently stocked it looked like.

"No tape," Derek groaned as he sat down next to the gifts. His intoxicated brain suggested gum before he quickly discarded the idea.

"I can wrap it like I did Cora's arm when she cut it open that one time." He started to wrap the toilet paper awkwardly around the cup.

He was glad for the extra time, because this would take a while.

At twelve-thirty Stiles bounced anxiously with his gift bag to the large Christmas tree the airport had set up. It was decorated in gold and silver ornaments.

"I apologize in advance," Derek said, pulling Stiles' attention from the tree.

"Why?" Stiles frowned. Derek had his arms held behind his back.

"Where'd you get the gift bag?" Derek asked, staring at the 'I love New York' bag in Stiles' hand.

"The gift shop."

Stiles noted the small pink that warmed Derek's ears.

"Why? What did you—" he cut himself off with a bubble of laughter as Derek presented a mummy wrapped gift.

"May I remind you that I have about three mini bottles of alcohol in my system and it's after midnight."

Stiles handed Derek his gift as he took his own toilet papered gift. "Merry Christmas, Derek."

Derek smiled at Stiles. "Merry Christmas."

"Shall we?" Stiles lifted the obvious mug in his hand.

Derek pulled out a navy blue neck pillow as Stiles tore at the toilet paper.

"I was complaining about not having one of these," Derek laughed.

"This is the perfect coffee mug," Stiles grinned down at it.

"Thank you," They both said in unison.

"I actually have one more for you." Stiles bit down on his bottom lip.

"Me too."

Derek pulled another toilet paper wrapped bundle from his pocket as Stiles pulled a tissue paper wrapped bundle from his.

They were similar in size.

The pair tore open their tiny gifts to reveal identical key chains.

Derek and Stiles burst into laughter.

"'S' for Stiles." Derek looked down at his key chain.

"'D' for Derek." Stiles held his up next to Derek's to compare.

"I wanted you to have something to remember me by. I was just a stranger and you turned a shitty situation into…this." Derek shrugged.

"I wanted you to have something as well. A thank you for humoring me and my stupid little games. Not many people would have been so willing." Stiles ran his thumb over the 'D'.

"Honestly, I wouldn't have. But I've had a rough month and I made a promise to someone. I thought I was gonna lose my best friend. I got into a fight with my sister and then I got stuck at an airport on Christmas Eve. I don't know why I let you convince me to do any of this."

Stiles gave a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure the alcohol helped."

Derek frowned down at the gifts in his hands. Stiles had no idea how much this night meant to him. It had been a long time since he'd had this much fun. "Will you take a picture with me?"

Stiles' brows raised in surprise.

"I promised a friend of mine I'd be more adventurous. Figured I'd send her proof."

"If exchanging Christmas gifts with a stranger in an airport is your idea of adventurous, you are in desperate need of fun." Stiles laughed as he stepped up next to Stiles.

"You're not wrong," Derek agreed quietly as he lifted his phone.

Stiles gave a wide grin and Derek couldn't help but give one himself before clicking the picture.

"This friend. She the one that was in the accident?"

Derek nodded as he looked down at the picture. The large glowing Christmas tree behind them hid the fact that they were in an airport. He sent the picture to Erica with a comment that said, keeping my promise.

"It's getting late, we should probably get some sleep before tomorrow. I have a feeling it's going to be a long one." Stiles yawned.

The pair reached their corner when the blond from the desk approached them.

"Your flights are due to depart at six in the morning. Here are your new tickets." She handed Stiles and Derek each a new ticket.

"Thank you." Stiles stared down at the paper. He wanted to be more excited, but that meant he'd be leaving Derek.

Stiles laid out his pillow and offered half to Derek.

"We can share my blanket since you came woefully unprepared."

Derek hesitated for a brief moment before sliding in next to Stiles. He was beyond exhausted and Stiles blanket looked comfortable. "Thank you," He said.

The pair laid back to back under the soft blanket.

Derek thumbed the key chain Stiles had given him. He didn't remember the last time he had this much fun.

'Not since Mom and Dad died.' he could hear Laura say.

It had been a rough year without them. A month before Christmas last year had been the day they died. Derek didn't even bother showing up to Christmas. This year he promised. Until Erica had gotten into the car accident. It was touch and go while in the hospital and Derek flew out immediately. He'd told Laura not to expect him for Christmas, even once Erica was out of the hospital and on the mend. She was the only reason he was in this airport trying to catch a flight out so late on Christmas Eve.

"You have to promise me that you'll be better, Derek," Erica's hand was clasped in his. "It shouldn't have taken a car accident to get you out here to see me."

"I know," Derek agreed.

"It's been over a year."

"I know." He bowed his head.

"Promise me you'll try. Promise me you'll let yourself be happy."

Derek only nodded.

"Promise me you'll take chances. Do fun things. Find adventure."

Derek nodded.

"Promise me, Derek." Erica squeezed his hand.

Derek looked up, finally meeting Erica's eyes. "I promise."

"And promise me you'll spend Christmas with your sisters."

"But—"

"Promise me."

Derek let out a sigh. "I promise."

He had arrived at the airport bitter and tired and now he laid here feeling light and while still tired, it wasn't a bone tired like he'd felt the passed year. He was just sleepy.

He closed his eyes, clutching the key chain in his hand.

The morning light was blinding as it bounced off the snowy ground and through the large windows.

Derek woke with Stiles curled around him. Derek wanted to pull away but it had been a long time since he'd been held like this. It felt nice.

He checked the time to see that their flight would be leaving soon.

He shifted gently, trying to pull from Stiles' without waking him.

"Oh, sorry, dude," Stiles mumbled, pulling away from Derek quickly.

"It's okay," Derek sat up and yawned. He tried not to stare as Stiles stretched, his shirt rising slightly to show his waist.

"All passengers boarding flight 204 will be departing in thirty minutes." The announcer came over the airport speaker.

"That's us." Stiles yawned, pulling himself to his feet.

Derek and Stiles took time to wake up and call their families to update them before boarding the plane together.

It wasn't a short flight. Roughly six hours, but it flew by for Stiles and Derek. They exchanged stories and facts all the way to California.

A quiet fell over them as they made their way through the airport to claim their luggage.

"I really can't thank you enough," Derek said, when he and Stiles had gathered their bags.

"No need. I had a lot of fun too." Stiles bit down on his bottom lip.

Derek stared down at his buzzing phone. "My sisters are here. So I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, my dad's outside."

"Right." Derek hesitated.

"You have my number, feel free to use it." Stiles offered shyly.

Derek nodded.

Stiles bit down on his bottom lip before reaching forward and placing a kiss to Stiles' cheek. "Thanks again for humoring me."

"Thank you, I really did have fun."

"Tell Erica that I hope she's better soon."

Derek didn't know if it was possible to fall in love in one night. Before last night he would have said no. But now as he watched Stiles turn away, he was almost certain it was.

"You're awfully quiet, son," Noah Stilinski asked his son as he poured him a cup of coffee.

"Just tired," Stiles lied. He held the mug Derek had given him between his hands as his dad filled it. He wondered if he'd ever see Derek again. Based on what little he knew, Derek was a shy type, not one to make friends.

As if answering his question, Stiles' phone pinged. He opened it to see a picture of him and Derek in front of the Christmas tree.

"Thought you'd want a copy."

Stiles couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

He snapped a picture of his coffee mug full of coffee.

"Already being put to good use."

As the day went on, they continued to send pictures back and forth.

Derek sent a picture of a bottle of gin with a truth and a lie.

Stiles got it right.

Stiles sent a picture of toilet paper with no comment.

Back and forth they sent them, until the sun was well past set.

Finally at midnight Stiles got another picture from Derek.

It was the large tree that sat downtown.

"Meet me at twelve thirty?"

Stiles' heart raced as he sent a confirmation.

Derek stood in front of the tree that sat in downtown Beacon Hills. It was taller than the one in the airport, though it had more color. Instead of gold and silver it was decorated in greens and reds and blues.

"Hey stranger," Stiles said, causing Derek to turn.

Derek pulled in a breath. Stiles looked stunning. His whiskey colored eyes danced in the glow of the tree.

"Hey." Derek swallowed.

"I'll be honest I didn't expect this." Stiles stepped closer to Derek, shoving his hands into his pockets, it wasn't as cold as New York but there was still a chill in the air.

"This isn't something I would normally do." Derek shrugged.

"Your promise I'm guessing?"

Derek frowned. "Actually it was something you said."

Stiles raised a curious brow.

"You were right. Exchanging gifts with a stranger in an airport isn't exactly adventurous. So I was trying to think of things that were."

"Oh?"

"I thought what if I invited the stranger out on a date?" Derek eyed Stiles carefully.

Stiles pursed his lips to hold back a smile. "Is that what this is?"

"I guess that depends on you," Derek had been nauseous before, he'd had food poisoning and the flu, but nothing compared to the rolling in his gut now as he waited for Stiles' answer.

"I think it's a romantic gesture. It mirrors our meeting at the tree in the airport." Stiles smiled, stepping forward. "It's a great first date."

A breathe punched out of Derek's chest.

"Did you think I was going to say no?" Stiles teased, taking another step forward.

"Like I said, this isn't something I typically do."

Stiles reached out and ran a gentle hand down Derek's arm. "You're doing great."

Derek's cheeks turned a shade of scarlet as he cleared his throat.

Stiles dropped his arm with a frown. "What's wrong?"

Derek laughed. "Right. I forgot you can read my body language."

"Habit, sorry."

"No it's okay, I just…" Derek ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I uh…I'm not good at this, but I wanted to give you one more gift."

Stiles grinned. "Oh yeah?" he noted the lack of present on Derek's person.

Derek stepped forward and gently dipped in for a kiss.

His lips met Stiles gently. His hand came up to cup his jaw.

Stiles leaned into the kiss, but it was over just as quickly as it'd started.

"You're so cheesy," Stiles laughed.

Derek's ears were bright pink. "Erica told me I should do it."

"She was right. And I think you should do it again." Stiles leaned in this time, connecting their lips.

This kiss lasted longer, there was more movement, and gentle touches of tongue as the kissed deepened.

When they finally parted, Stiles breathed out a laugh. "That, Derek Hale was very adventurous of you."

Derek grinned, his hands finding Stiles'. He was glad that he had made Erica that promise, and he was glad he kept it.

Consider buying me a coffee, I would really appreciate it!

#Sterek #Stiles x Derek #Christmas #Christmas one shot #Sterek one shot #Christmas fic #Sterek fic #My writing-H

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jareicanon · 9 months

Note

SAME ANON HERE it would be nice if you put it in a full post! mai akasaki who are uuuuuuuu

NO WORRIES sorry this took so long I forgot how to access my asks

Mai Akasaki

Ultimate ???

“Anything, anything at all…” <- prev quote

“There’s a way for you to be happy.” <- new quote!!! (revising it after the mv, and how david’s quote here seems to suggest he wants forgiveness (?) maybe this is a small message to him? but that’s just speculation)

Height: 5'8"

Weight: 124 lbs

Chest: 30 in

Birthday: February 1st

Likes: Phone charms

Dislikes: Silence

Okay from here it’s stuff I’ve found over time and/or copied over (like in a panic to keep it before I lost it — back then I didn’t have much social media and i loose screenshots) I’m not sure where this came from bc it’s legit nearly been a year I think, but if anyone knows the origin (who found it) lmk and I’ll add credit :)

Typing in https://danganronpadespairtime.tumblr.com/maiakasaki into a search bar nets the following:

“All you have to do is ask for my hand, and I’ll give it to you.

Ask for my life, and I’ll give it to you as well.

Don’t apologize for asking. I’ll give you my forgiveness too.”

Bold letters: Aoaviepkro

And further examination of the elements yeilds this:

“Are you still searching for a secret? For some explanation that will satisfy you? There’s no answer I can give you that will make you happy. Maybe I should have lied instead. I’m sorry.”

Typing in https://danganronpadespairtime.tumblr.com/AOAVIEPKRO into a search bar gets you Mai’s actual character page. Different things are shown every time you refresh the page as a result of the coding, but each quote is attached to a name in the code. The quotes are as following:

Teruko: Some years ago, she was searching for someone named ‘Teruko Tawaki.’

Charles: A girl who loves her family.

Rose: She remembers everything that is important to others.

Arturo: A girl who sees the beauty in everyone.

Levi: A girl with a floral tattoo on her arm.

Whit: A girl with many friends.

Eden: She kept calling the number, even though no one picked it up.

J: She kept it a secret, and told no one.

Hu: A girl who wanted to keep everyone safe.

Nico: Everyone confided in her.

Ace: A girl who had a bright future.

Arei: She doesn’t like it when her friends fight.

Min: An average girl with nothing special at all about her.

Xander: She couldn’t stand to do nothing.

Veronika: A girl who didn’t foresee the consequences.

David: She forgives everyone.

MonoTV: It’s all your fault.

The about page for the series also contains hidden text:

“You don’t understand, do you? I used to be like you. I barely remember, but I used to be like you. I cared so much about people, I cried everytime someone was hurt. I suffered for a long time stuck in here caring about people.

I know what you’re going through. You’re going to hold on as long as you have, with hope that you can make it out of here with everyone. Then you’re going to despair. That lasts a while, too.

Then you’ll get bored. Like me.

And you’ll wish you were still suffering. Anything else is better than boredom.

I wish I could feel something, anything else, other than being bored. I’m stuck in here for eternity, and I know everything that could possibly happen. I know how everyone reacts to a murder, what makes people turn to despair, what fills people with hope and make them survive until we all run out of food and starve to death.

I wish I could feel terrified, or afraid, or angry. But I can’t anymore. I don’t feel anything at all except boredom.

Do you understand, Teacher?

This is why I’m letting you suffer as long as possible. Because it’s better than the alternative.

I’m sorry. I don’t envy you.

You’ll understand eventually.”

Hope this helps!!

#the quotes for mai are especially interesting when you consider the mv #as mai as the dearly loved #considering david’s quote too — does he want forgiveness?#Adds more depth to the meaning #but they also suggest mai’s fate #either she died or suffered a terrible fate regardless - as veronika says she ‘didn’t foresee the consequences’#drdt #danganronpa despair time #drdt theory #drdt thoughts

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whumpslist · 10 months

Text

A bunch of answers 5 and recap

Hi everyone,

With the summer season and the ending of many series, I’m finally catching up with old whumps’ lists, in particular:

* As already stated here, I’ve completed the final seasons of The Flash, Titans and Endeavor and updated the whumps lists; I’ve completed Carnival Row as well and it’s online;

* the lists from current, but not broadcasted at moment, series are all updated; The Blacklist’s tenth and final season is airing and updated to the last episode as well;

* I have to update the second season of Tale of the Nine-Tailed which is currently being aired under the name “1938″ as a prequel and I will binge watch it once fully broadcasted;

* I have done a whumpslist for the first season of Will Trent and the books by Karin Slaughter the TV show is based on, I'm still undecided whether to publish it or wait to complete them all. What would you prefer?;

* I’ve recently posted some new K-lists: Insider, Doctor Lawyer and updated Taxi Driver with the second season; I’ve also (FINALLY) completed the list for The K2, it will be posted in a couple of days; viceversa, it’s already online the whumpslist of Citadel but I really didn’t liked the show itself, many things were off...

As my plans for future binge watching and whumps’ lists:

* Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan new season will be released soon as the third season of The Witcher (I promise I have started to watch the second season of it and updating the list) which will be the last one I will do if it is true that Henry Cavill will no longer wear the clothes of Geralt of Rivia;

* I have The Musketeers list to complete (only a bunch of episodes left to review), and two seasons and half of The Last Ship;

* i have selected many K-dramas I want to watch this summer, I don’t know if any of them are worth of a whumpslist but I certainly hope so!

You can find all the lists and the links into the Whumpslist’s links Sheet here. Plus, I've made another sheet to include all my gifs, short clips and audios posted as Tumblr allows only a certain amount to links into a single post.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Meanwhile I’ve received many messages, I’ll gather the answers here.

Not sure if you've done this show yet, but, Queen of the South, it's on Netflix, has some great whump for character James Valdez 👌

Hi Anon, yes, I’ve seen some gifsets here and there but I’m not sure I would like the series itself. Still evaluating it.

Do you have a whumplist for Covert Affairs? Especially Auggie!

Maybe, @sharimae, but surely not in the foreseeable future, as I’ve already watched it back in the days.

Has the whump community gotten a hold of Lockwood and Co yet? if not y’all need to run to netflix rn!!!Anthony Lockwood is the PERFECT whumpee, but plenty goes around! not to mention there’s found family, hurt/comfort, angst, self sacrifice, tragic backstories, reckless boy with no self care, torture, electrocution, sword fights, ghosts can and will kill you (or put you into a coma), girl who can save the world and the boy who would die for her, gunshot wound, collapsing and needing to be supported, unconsciousness, powers are a burden… i could go on honestly

He’s cute, indeed, I’ll consider it.

brothers whump

Sorry, @s610ela, care to elaborate??

Hi!! I was wondering if you have any plan to continue the list for Jack Ryan? Thank you!

Hi there! As said above, I will certainly continue the list for this show.

Your Remington Steele gifs of 4x01 are an actual gift to the tiny Remington Steele fandom! Where did you get the episodes to use?! (If you don’t mind me asking lol)

Ah, my little me was SO in love with Remington Steele and enjoyed the sporadic whumps everytime they popped up! I made the gifs a while ago, I’m sorry I don’t remember where I retrieved the episode to do the gifset.

That’s all, folks!

#Thanks for the input #ask whumpslist #suggestions for whumpslist #Carnival Row #The Blacklist #Tale of the Nine-Tailed #Will Trent #Taxi Driver #The K-2 #Citadel #Jack Ryan #The Witcher #The Musketeers #The Last Ship #Queen of the South #Covert Affairs #Lockwood and Co #Remington Steele

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theseshipsshallsail · 6 months

Text

When he visited in ‘94, he couldn’t bring himself to make this specific trek - just as he couldn’t bear to set foot in the bedrooms upstairs - but after several greedy clinches against the bike shed door it was inevitable they’d find themselves here, ensconced on a craggy outcrop as the mugginess of the day dissipated, permitting a cool prickle of reprieve in its stead.

Chapter 6

If anyone were to ask when he’d checked-in at Portsmouth International - which Oliver’s sincerely glad they hadn’t - if he intended to spend his afternoon making out like some horny frat boy, his response would’ve been a resounding no.

Yet here he is.

Safe from prying eyes in a utopian meadow.

Blood streaming south at a gallop as he drinks from the fountain of his misspent youth; each groan Elio feeds him a one way ticket to his personal San Clemente Syndrome.

Only this time, there’s something else, also.

Something deeper. More profound.

Elio kisses like a symphony - less a grace note pealing in the dark - and Oliver?

Oliver feels reborn.

“Fuck… how I’ve missed you,” he whispers, the fast bracket of Elio’s thighs spawning vibrant fantasies of taking him right there in the open. “All of you. Not just your body, but your mind, too. Your spirit. Your voice. God…” Oliver breathes him in: bergamot shampoo, and the token hint of cologne. “Your voice!” he declares. “Absolute madness. My Nokia doesn’t do it justice…”

Elio mewls at his carotid; dexterous fingers carding his still-damp hair. “Salvalo, Casanova... we’re well past the point of stroking my ego.”

“Your ego?” Oliver eases up on his elbows. “Believe me, my little dissolute, I’m seconds away from stroking your -”

An intrusive beeping exudes from Elio’s phone.

“Accidenti…” he grouses, flinging his arm out. “That’s my alarm,” he explains, hurriedly cancelling the polyphonic tone. “Maddalena prefers we cement dinner plans in advance. Decreases the odds of confusing Maman with last-minute amendments.”

“Wise woman,” Oliver says, cheeks aching from a besotted grin. “Does this mean I’ll have to let you up?”

Elio offers a phoney pout. “Either that, or get chided by Mafalda for having to remove our place-settings?”

“Perish the thought…”

It’s sweeter than manna - the fire that kindles in his belly - and Oliver can’t help laughing when Elio clambers to his feet, makeshift bathers drooping low - and sublimely tented - on his narrow, grass-stained hips.

“This spot is probably what I’ll miss the most,” Oliver’d professed once, clutching his knees as the surf’s brackish spray saturated his clothing, and with the obvious exception of Elio, himself, he’d been correct.

Annella - it transpired - had opted to take supper in her quarters, and with neither of them especially peckish thanks to their post-riposo apéritifs, Elio’d assured his culinary tag-team that yes, the leftovers from lunch would be plentiful. Yes, he’d remembered to stop by the butcher’s to increase Saturday’s order. And no, he had zero inclination of squirrelling la muvi star away for the foreseeable future.

The last was delivered with a brazen pinch to Oliver’s buttock. A retaliatory swat before his attacker scurried out of reach. They’d had that discussion - or something similar - umpteen times since June, and every cell of Oliver’s being radiates with contentment; knowing Elio’s rebuttal couldn’t be further from the case.

They’re committed for the long haul. All seven blessings; should a progressive law change allow. Oliver’d mentioned it in the journal: how on the sixteenth of November each Fall, he’d devote a few hours to commemorating Elio’s birthday - honouring his inner Poseidonian and the life they might’ve lived - and despite the severed ties and burned bridges that could still cost him dearly, the gamble, he’s positive, is more than worth the risk.

With Elio. For Elio. For them. It’s worth everything.

“I felt sick about it,” he says, the sun-baked rock pleasant at his back. “I wanted you - I’ve always wanted you - but I couldn’t have kept you; not then.”

An elderly couple trudge by with their dogs - three Yorkshire terriers and a doddery greyhound - but Oliver pays them no heed as he cuddles Elio tight, both arms enfolding his torso as their legs dangle free of the bluff’s eroded edge.

“I feared I’d forget your face, your voice, your smell, even,” he continues, chest seizing at the admission. “But I found a new spot wherever I was living. Somewhere not far from my office. Usually overlooking a lake.”

The soothing weight of Elio’s palm envelops his bicep. “A vigil, my father would have called it.”

“And rightly so,” Oliver says, cozying into his collar. “Because I was wrong. I’d forgotten nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Did you try?”

Oliver frowns. “In the early months, perhaps.” When he was drugging his sins with dime store bourbon, blasting the Furs on a loop, and marathoning Battlestar Galactica when sleep evaded him to the brink of deprivation. “But then I realised my reluctance to seek you out was due to us never really parting. Not up here,” he insists, mouth brushing Elio’s temple. “Or here.” A firm hand splays above his heart. “That regardless of where we were - who we were with - whatever stood in our way… it wasn’t over for us.”

Elio swallows hard, pain clouding his gaze. “How could it be?” he asks, magnifying the sting behind his eyelids. “You’re my Polaris.”

“My guiding light,” Oliver agrees, staring at his chiselled profile. “There is nowhere else for me, Elio Perlman. Nowhere but you. So when the stars aligned - when you sent me a battered notebook one dreary Friday morning - what sort of fool would I be to squander the chance to prove it?”

“Which you did.”

“Which I did.”

And woe betide he somehow gives him cause to doubt.

There’s a family with young children on the flaxen stretch to the east; their extensive parade of lopsided sandcastles invoking flashbacks of day trips to Shakoma Beach when Noah and Jesse were small.

“I wish my father were alive to see today...”

To anyone else, the segue could seem baffling, but Oliver’s well-versed in Elio’s trips to left field. “So do I,” he says, the grief ever raw.

Pro wasn’t just a mentor, but the shrewdest man of his acquaintance, and while Samuel hadn’t questioned his judgement in marrying Micol, he’d been a staunch advocate for Platonian other halves: cleaved at the middle and bleeding though they might be.

“For years I worried I’d let him down,” Oliver mutters absently. “By leaving, that is.”

The you isn’t so much implied as showcased in neon letters, yet Elio just snuggles in, running his thumb along Oliver’s knuckles. “How unhappy is he who cannot forgive himself,” he quotes, caressing the undersides of his wrist. “You left because you had to, amore mio. You wed because it wasn’t our time.” His breath hitches on a sigh. “It was the presumption that bothered me, moreso. The fact you made the decision for us both. But you did what you needed - wanted - to do… and I respected that.”

“Elio…”

“I didn’t blame you,” he says, burying his face in his fuzzy jaw. “Not for pursuing the road most travelled. I simply wasn’t ready to let you go.”

It’s the god’s honest truth if he’s ever heard it, and Oliver’s choked reply is silenced by a kiss so toe-curlingly decadent that when it eventually ends inestimable minutes later, he’s largely convinced his consciousness has transcended to a higher plane.

#call me by your name #cmbyn fanfic #elio x oliver #new chapter #reunion fic

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librosamarillos · 8 months

Text

passed down like folk songs

chapter 34: never take advice from someone who's falling apart

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

Ceryse had spent the whole day packing. It was a rushed decision to leave, but she couldn't take it anymore. She made sure Martyn had sent a raven to their father to tell him to expect her arrival soon, and then she made sure that every single thing she owned was in a case, in the carriage that would take her back to her home. The last strange and off-putting year of her life, all packed and ready to go.

She looked around the now empty room, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, when her Goodmother walked in. It caught her completely off guard, as they had both been avoiding each other ever since she had married into the family. Ceryse could never read Visenya’s expression, but at least she could tell she didn’t look upset.

“You’re leaving.” she said plainly. Not at all a question, just a statement. Visenya looked at her, her face unreadable, but Ceryse didn’t shudder under her unnerving eyes. She couldn’t let her get the best of her. She refused to lose her patience, no matter how much she wanted to scream at her.

“I am.” she nodded, mirroring her plain tone. “You must be pleased.” she added, seeing as Visenya seemed to be content with standing in complete silence. Gods, how did Rowan manage to be around her so much without losing her mind? Her goodmother did not seem offended by the comment.

“I am not, believe it or not. I do think it’ll be what’s best for the time being.” she shook her head slightly. She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, like it should’ve been obvious to Ceryse that she wanted her to stay, even though she had made it so clearly obvious that she couldn’t stand her. She had made it so clear that she was not the bride she wanted for her son, so much so that she caused such a mess by performing a whole new wedding for him.

“The time being?” Ceryse asked, raising a brow. Did she expect this to be like a long vacation? A small, awkward pause followed. It seemed that she had expected Ceryse to read her mind or something.

“Yes. Perhaps it’s best for you to be with your family until things settle down.” she finally explained further. Ceryse supposed this could’ve come from a good place, a place of worry for her safety, but it only unnerved her more. Did she expect something dangerous to happen to the half-built palace? The dowager Queen looked around the room, before furrowing her brows. “You’ve packed everything?” she asked, her tone disapproving, implying that she shouldn't take everything with her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever return.” Ceryse answered honestly, seeing no reason to lie to the unnerving woman before her. All the Targaryens had an unnerving aura around them, but the two that had the strongest ones were Visenya and Maegor. Aenys was the one that acted more like a normal person. Visenya shook her head again, as if what Ceryse had told her was just a suggestion.

“You will. In the future. To a much calmer palace.” she replied. There was something ominous in her tone, something that made Ceryse worry. She couldn’t foresee Aenys taking charge and fixing all the uprisings and problems that kept appearing, so was she planning to take control instead? Should that worry her, since she had ruled for years in the past? Visenya sighed, before speaking up again.

“Things were not ideal for you, and I’ve played a part in that. One day we’ll make up for that.” she said, her tone much more human and sincere this time. It caught Ceryse even more by surprise, as this was probably the first time in the year that she knew her, that she saw Visenya act as anything other than a harsh Queen. She could almost be mistaken as apologetic. “Goodbye, Ceryse.” she said, and left her alone in her room to finish packing.

The conversation kept repeating over and over in her mind, as the carriage kept going. It was by far the most ominous goodbye she had ever received. Lana and Rowan gave her a tearful goodbye, Rowan especially sad to see her go. Ceryse made her promise to visit, as she couldn’t think of a better escape from the absolute insanity going on in that family. As she had mentioned it to her brothers, it came to light that she wasn’t the only Hightower to invite Rowan to Oldtown.

“And you just invited her like that?” Ceryse asked, jokingly kicking her younger brother on the knee. She didn’t want to dwell on her goodmother on the long way home, she’d have time to worry about it from the comfort of her room. For now, she could at least laugh at her youngest brother and his attempts at flirting.

“What do you mean?” Morgan asked, almost offended at the implication, crossing his arms right away. In so many ways, he still acted like he used to when they were young and she’d tease him.

“Awkwardly, in a hallway while your sister is upset in the room right behind you?” Martyn stated, raising a brow in amusement. Gods be good, Ceryse could almost picture the surprise on Rowan’s face. Now she was wishing she hadn’t left in such a rush, because she would’ve loved to make fun of her brother with her best friend.

“How romantic, Morgan!” she exclaimed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. His face even managed to make Martyn laugh, despite his anger. All three siblings were angry at what had happened, but seeing her eldest brother crack a smile was certainly a soothing thing.

“It wasn’t awkward!” Morgan defended himself, but seemed to realise that anything else he said would be used against him to be teased relentlessly, so he just kept pouting, promising his siblings that he’d rather continue the journey on horseback than to be stuck with them teasing him.

“Of course it wasn’t.” Ceryse said, shaking her head. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to have Rowan visit with her father. Their own father had been a bit ill and seeing an old friend again would make him feel much better for sure. And perhaps they’d conclude their reunification with a proposal, a match between her brother and Rowan. It would be a nice occasion to have a wedding that Ceryse would look forward to. And the fact that her closest friend would remain close to her.

It was something that just hung up in the air with uncertainty, what would happen when her husband would return from exile. Would she be expected to return by his side and pretend it’s all well and good? In what world would his actions be somehow accepted after some time passed? No, she wouldn’t return at all. She couldn’t stand the thought of his stupid fucking face. He’d have to come drag her out of the hightower with Balerion himself if he cared so much to do so.

Returning back home to Oldtown filled her lungs with air again. She finally felt like she could breathe. She was home, where everything was just as she remembered it being. Her father even had the rare show of pure relief to see her and embrace her again. She tried not to dwell on any feeling of failure, the thought that if she had given Maegor an heir, then none of this would’ve happened. But no one blamed her, no one looked at her with any contempt, instead they all welcomed her back home warmly.

Their father had invited them to speak, to try and make sense of what to do in the future, when a young squire ran in the room, bringing a letter with the unmistakable Targaryen seal. Their father took the letter from the boy’s hands and dismissed him. All three of his children looked at him with curious eyes, a silent question waiting to be answered.

“What does the letter say, father?” Martyn spoke up, his arms crossed. Ceryse herself was alarmed. She had just been able to breathe and relax in her own home, would the King have demanded she return? No, surely not, it made no sense. The last time she saw Aenys, he only gave her an ashamed, but apologetic look. He wouldn’t demand her presence.

“It’s not just a letter.” her father’s voice caught her attention again. “It’s an invitation.” he added, reading it again and again, which worried his three children even more. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he was reading and wanted to make sure of it before he spoke it out loud. Now she was confused, they all were.

“An invitation? To what?” she asked. He certainly wouldn’t be throwing a feast for no reason. There weren’t any holidays coming up, and there were certainly more important things for the King to address before he threw a big feast to celebrate.

“To a wedding.” their father responded, his eyes still scanning the letter over and over again. That was certainly not what anyone was expecting. A wedding?

“A royal wedding?” she asked. “But all the King’s children are still so young.” she added. Rhaena was the eldest one, had he found her a match already? He had never mentioned to Ceryse that he’d even been searching for a match, but she supposed it was only normal for him to want to find his daughter a good match. She was his only daughter and his firstborn, it was expected that he’d be more attached to her. But still, a wedding? At her young age, Rhaena should only be betrothed, nothing more. Was he trying to marry her off to avoid some scandal? But Princess Rhaena was always in line, never one to care about boys.

“The King believes that it is ‘the perfect time’ for Rhaena and Aegon to marry. Each other.” their father finally said, after leaving them in silence for a moment.

Silence filled the room, like they all didn’t want to believe what they just heard. Did she hear that right? Was the King somehow planning to marry his two young children to each other? Disgust was clear on everyone’s faces. There had been this unspoken understanding that the Targaryens would adapt the Westerosi culture, as Aegon and his sisters accepted the faith of the seven. It was clear that incest was a huge sin, absolutely no cause for celebration. All the disgust aside, Princess Rhaena couldn’t have been bleeding for longer than a year, and Prince Aegon had just now started using a real sword in his training.

Ceryse knew Aegon better than his sister. He was a quiet boy, but not too shy, who followed all his lessons dutifully. He was always polite to her and they would sometimes chat, and she had promised to teach him Cyvasse one day, if he did well in his lessons. He did have a more mischievous side to him, as he loved playing pranks with Rhaena.

Rhaena, she didn’t see much, as she would spend all of her free time flying with Dreamfyre. During feasts and gatherings, she was more introverted and shy, and Ceryse always got the impression that being around people would tire the young Princess. She was not one to socialise, much to Queen Alyssa’s dismay.

That’s how Ceryse viewed them as; children. To ever imagine that the two would be soon bound by marriage, it was wrong, so very wrong. She could not imagine being forced to marry one of her brothers, it was unnatural and a disgrace to even think about.

“Who would even perform such a ceremony?” Martyn finally broke the silence in the room, turning to their father, who offered him the letter to inspect as well. He read it, and offered it to her as well, as he crossed his arms. Ceryse scanned it, hoping to discover that this was a misunderstanding of some sort, but no. It was indeed a formal invitation, in the writing of the King himself, which meant he specifically wrote to them to invite them.

“No septon would ever perform such a sin.” Morgan frowned, shaking his head in pure disbelief. Did Aenys realise what he had just done? Part of her hoped that he had only written to them, that they could burn this letter and pretend it never happened, for the consequences would be severe.

“Murmison. He would do it.” she finally said, finding her voice again. That man had been whispering in the King’s ear, she was certain that he had a role to play in this. He should’ve prevented the King from doing this, but Ceryse knew that he was encouraging it all. Was it out of foolishness, or was he that eager to have war declared on her goodbrother?

“Uncle will be furious once he hears of this.” Martyn said. He was right. Their uncle would certainly not be silent, not when he had been waiting for the dragonlords to step out of line. Had Aenys written to him? Invited him to perform the ceremony himself?

“Does he really expect us to go? To support this?” Morgan asked, looking at her directly. Ceryse frowned deeply. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how Aenys was thinking. And Alyssa? Where was she in all of this? How could she be okay with this? Then again, she was a Velaryon, she would be used to these customs.

“I don’t know what he expects to happen. I don’t even think he understands this is like a declaration for war.” she sighed, handing the letter to Morgan, so he’d get a turn in reading it too. Gods, she had only been gone half a fortnight, and now this was happening.

“The poor kids.” Morgan sighed, disgust clear on his face. “They’re stuck in this.” he said, returning the letter to the hands of their father. Morgan had only seen the Princess and Prince a few times, but he certainly did not think they were ready to be wed, let alone to be following this disgusting custom.

“Gods be good. What has he done?” Manfred Hightower pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he never let his only daughter get involved with the Targaryens at all.

Rowan quietly watched as the Queen helped her daughter adjust the intricate headpiece, which she was not used to wearing. It was strange and sad to watch this little girl about to enter a woman’s role when she was barely fifteen years of age. Could Rhaena even comprehend why everyone seemed so uneasy, so disgusted with the match? How could she? She was just a child, brought up with the idea that it was her duty and honour as a Targaryen, how could she speak against her match?

The only positive Rowan saw in this was that the young Prince and Princess got along very well and already spent a lot of time together. Princess Rhaena would not be stuck with a harsh and impossible husband, but rather someone she knew well and got along with. The thought of that gave her some semblance of peace, if she looked past the massive catastrophe this match would bring along with it.

The dowager Queen had left the room where Alyssa was preparing her daughter for the announcement of the betrothal, taking Rowan with her. She never spent any time with her grandchildren, well, they weren’t really. She herself had never called them that. Rowan was glad to be out of the room though, as it only filled her with dread for what was to come. Helping Visenya prepare for court was a much more familiar and calming act.

“Does this disgust you greatly?” Visenya asked as Rowan brushed through her long silver locks. While she never brought it up to her before, she was sure her face betrayed her feelings. She wasn’t disgusted by the children, of course not, but the whole practice was…

“It’s… unusual. I thought this tradition would end after you all converted to the faith of the seven.” she answered, beginning to braid her hair in the updo she preferred. She never lied to her, never feared telling her how she felt about anything, she saw no reason to start now. Visenya gave her an understanding look.

“No, my girl. This tradition is an important one. Do you not remember what I taught you of Old Valyria? You were the most diligent of students.” she asked again. Rowan loved to learn, still did, but she loved it when the former Queen would teach her, when she’d recite stories and tell her of the history. Of course she remembered.

“I understand that it was to ensure the family fortune would remain within the family. But the crown would still belong to the Targaryens regardless of who Aegon marries.” she replied, but still had her doubts. It wasn’t like they’d be losing out on fortune, if anything the practice stopped them from getting more resources.

“It’s much more than that, you know this.” Visenya said, handing her a golden clip to pin the braid she had just finished. Rowan paused for a moment, knowing exactly what she was alluding to. She nodded.

“Rhaena has a dragon. That’s what must remain within the family.” she said, continuing with her brushing and braiding. Keeping the dragons within the family, that would be the wisest thing to do. It’s what set the Targaryens apart, what granted them the power, giving away would be foolish. But then it only brought up more questions for Rowan. If Rhaena had no dragon, would she be free of the practice? Was every Targaryen woman bound to the practice if she wanted to have a dragon of her own?

“There you go.” she smiled, nodding. Rowan wanted to ask more, so much more, but there wasn’t much time, and their relationship was still healing. She wondered often if Visenya had ever questioned it, or ever felt like rejecting the practice altogether. Had she always known she was to marry her own brother, or had she been made aware when she was older? Rowan knew that she always loved Aegon, but was there ever a time when it all felt wrong?

“Still… you know nobody will accept this. There will be repercussions.” she added, trying to focus more on the task at hand. She worried about riots, about something more serious happening. Riots had been happening here and there, but once the news of this broke out, Rowan couldn’t imagine what that could bring up. Visenya seemed eerily calm.

“I do not doubt it. Perhaps my nephew will finally grow a spine, who knows?” she asked lightheartedly. Rowan had given up trying to get Visenya to care a bit more about Aenys. She understood that there was simply too much there, but she had hoped she’d at least be on his side a little bit more.

“It’s just difficult to accept, I suppose.” she sighed, taking another golden clip from Visenya’s hand, making sure the braid had a perfect place. Even when she was young, she found the marriage between the three conquerors disturbing and wrong, before she knew all that lay beneath the surface. Now that she was a woman grown, everything just appeared more disturbing, especially when it came to the young Princess and Prince. Visenya gave her a sympathetic smile.

“My dear girl… you know that, had you married Maegor, the children you two had together would follow this practice, do you not?” she asked. Rowan’s movements stopped entirely. She looked at her through the mirror with shock. Rowan absolutely had dreams of having a family with Maegor, she had loved him so much, for so long, but none of those dreams involved… this. She wanted to raise her children in the faith, to find them all happy matches for their futures, she never thought the incestious tradition would carry on. Visenya immediately looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry… It’s easier when you don’t think too much about it. Think of them as cousins, if it helps.” she said, quickly changing the subject. She supposed if she pretended they were cousins, while still disturbing, it would be easier.

“Are there… news?” Rowan asked after a moment of silence. “From Pentos?” she added, looking away from the former Queen’s gaze in the mirror, continuing to braid her hair. Rowan knew she shouldn’t ask, she knew it would be easier on her shattered heart to not hear from him at all, to ignore his very existence, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend he wasn’t on her mind at all times. The dowager Queen shook her head lightly, as to not disturb her from working on her hair.

“Nothing groundbreaking. He offered to send me some exotic herbs he found at the markets.” Visenya sighed with a small smile forming on her lips. Rowan heard lots of things about the markets of Pentos, especially the ones near the port. Any city near or on a port was to have prosperous markets, but Pentos had a lot of interesting things. She almost smiled at the sweet gesture of him sending his mother something he knew she loved. “He was very pleased to hear of your project.” she added. Rowan blushed, shaking her head.

“It’s hardly my project. I only offered to help support the septon get the approval from his grace.” she answered quickly. She never wanted to give out the impression that she was somehow in charge of this. It made her blush when she thought of him being happy to hear about her news, and if she ignored everything else that happened, she would even smile with joy. But she couldn’t forget what he did.

“And help them plan it, and finance most of it?” Visenya asked with a raised brow and a smile. Rowan met her gaze through the mirror, suddenly feeling very shy. The septon asked for her help because she and her father were constant presences in that space, and have helped a lot since the city had formed. He also knew that she had some wealthy friends that would help if needed, and indeed with Ceryse’s help, the contributions to the expansion grew greatly. It wasn’t like Rowan was the one laying the bricks.

“I only offered to help where I could…” she trailed, feeling somehow embarrassed. Visenya’s smile did not falter, however.

“He wanted you to know he was proud of you. As am I.” she said warmly, as Rowan placed the last braid in its place. She felt like she hadn’t done so much to earn their pride, as kind as it was for them to say.

“I…”

“Do not deflect my pride now. I know you are one of the most capable people in this city, and certainly the one I trust the most.” Visenya countered her doubts before she could even speak them out loud. Rowan looked down for a moment. Why were they proud of her? What had she done to earn pride? She shook her head lightly.

“You flatter me too much.” she said, taking the brush from the vanity. For a moment, the air between them felt light again.

“I do not spare flattery.” the dowager Queen countered once more, this time more firmly. She could already hear the sentences she wanted to add about not being too humble and that she was capable of doing great things. Rowan wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it at the moment. “I did hear someone, a certain knight, has invited you to Oldtown?” she asked, changing the subject completely.

“Ser Morgan. Yes, he invited both my father and I.” she answered, a bit surprised that anyone had told her. She’d have to ask one day, maybe she’d reveal how she got to know everything that happened within the palace walls.

“For tea and a chat?” Visenya asked, her tone clearly urging her to say more.

“For a few moons.” Rowan replied, reaching for the hair oil on the vanity, to finish and perfect her hair. She wasn’t sure how she’d even approach this.

“Rowan, I know the past year has been hard on you, on your heart, but have you not given any thought to a suitor? I understand Tybolt Lannister was not your ideal choice, but this time, this one seems more serious.” she said, turning to now face her. Her eyes were sympathetic, apologetic too, as she seemed to understand how much this still affected her so deeply. Rowan let out a small sigh.

“I know. Ser Morgan is a lovely man. He would make a fine match, but… I only feel guilty.” she confessed, looking to the floor in shame. Morgan, in truth, was a dream match in every sense. It would unite their houses once more and strengthen their bond, not to mention they got along very well, and she’d get to live in Oldtown, which she had always wanted, plus she’d be Ceryse’s family. How many women would be this lucky to have a potential match be this good and compatible? And yet…

“Because he has taken a liking to you?” she asked, a look of disbelief on her features.

“Because it would be unfair. I cannot dedicate my heart to him…” she replied. Rowan felt so spoiled and ungrateful at that moment. Well, truly, during the whole time Morgan was showing interest. He was absolutely lovely, a man difficult to come by, a man that her father would be so happy to marry her off to. And yet she still loved Maegor with all her heart. It was so unfair, so cruel. Visenya grabbed her hand softly, getting her attention once more.

“You need not devote your heart. Most do not. You know how marriages are planned, you’ve known since you were young. I’m sure that with time, it will be easier.” she stated softly. It was true, it wasn’t even unheard of for a couple to meet at the altar for the very first time, then slowly start to care for each other. Love could grow where people nurtured it, yes, but Rowan felt like she’d be lying to him, that she was betraying him before a betrothal was even suggested out loud.

“I don’t know…” she sighed again. In truth, she wasn’t even sure when she’d visit. Her father was travelling to sell their house’s wood and honey to their usual buyers, great houses all over the kingdoms. And Rowan wanted to stay here, as much as she yearned for home and for Oldtown, she felt like she had to stay by the King’s side, as well as Visenya’s. “You’d be alright with me living in Oldtown?” she asked, this time more lightheartedly.

“Certainly not. I’d have him stationed here, to keep you close to me. Who better to keep you safe than Vhagar?” Visenya smiled again, shaking her head. The air felt light again. Rowan smiled at the mention of the dragon, shaking her head as well.

“I don’t think we’ll need to bother her with my protection, I doubt it’ll come to that.” she said. She couldn’t imagine a situation where she’d need Vhagar to help. She stayed away from trouble, followed every rule, she hoped there was never anything that serious directed at her.

“You know she’s grown fond of you. How long must I push you to join me for a flight? Just a short one, over the city.” the dowager Queen asked. She loved to fly. In her own words, it was one of the only places she felt safe to be herself. It was safe to be up in the clouds where nothing could touch you, freeing even. It was an honour she even offered for Rowan to join her at all.

“You know dragons frighten me! I can be around her, but that’s about it.” Rowan shook her head again. Maegor and Visenya had gotten her to touch her scales a few times, once even getting her to pet her snout, all while clinging onto Maegor for dear life, of course. But flying? No, Rowan couldn’t find it in herself to entertain the idea. Her cousin, Erin, always made fun of her about it, calling it a huge missed opportunity. Perhaps Rowan could invite her to join the former Queen. The thought made her smile.

“Mark my words, my girl, one day I’ll get you to join me. Let it be before I’m too old to climb on the saddle.” Visenya smiled lightly again.

“I cannot promise that to you.” Rowan countered, a more playful tone in her voice now. Visenya smiled, seeming glad. She got up, checking her hair in the mirror before giving Rowan a look of approval and thanking her.

“Now come. Let us go, the King awaits.” she said, leading her to the throne room, where the lords and ladies of the court awaited.

The announcement was not met with any joy, as Aenys had been certain of, but disapproval and awkwardness and disgust. Silent judgement from the lords and ladies who still wished to be on the King’s good graces, as well as fake smiles, but some even responded with outright animosity. It was heartbreaking to watch the young Princess and Prince’s smiles drop at the reaction, and the confusion in their eyes as they looked toward their mother and father for answers. Rowan also worried for the Queen. Her pregnancy had been giving her a hard time this time around, and the maesters had strongly suggested a calm and relaxing environment.

Aenys was devastated, his hopes crushed. But the worst was yet to come. A raven from Oldtown, from the HIgh Septon himself, declaring the match an abomination, an act against the gods, and threatening heavy repercussions should the betrothal not be broken right away.

Rowan had been helping Visenya with her correspondence when Aenys rushed through the doors, the distress clear on his face, the letter in his trembling hand. Before Rowan could even react, Visenya spoke up.

“Nephew.” she greeted him firmly, the way she always did. She seemed so calm, like she was expecting things to play out this very way.

“Your grace.” Rowan greeted, far more formally and with worry in her eyes at his state. Aenys only nodded in acknowledgement, trying to catch his breath from rushing here.

“I… I do not know what to do.” he said, his voice betraying confusion and even fear. Rowan had already gotten up from the desk where she was writing the dowager Queen’s letters, and felt so bad she wanted to give him a hug. But she remained in her spot.

“With what?” Visenya asked, despite knowing exactly why, as it was so clear and obvious. Rowan looked at her with pleading eyes, silently begging her to be kind to him, especially with how clearly distressed he was. These were his children that were affected, and therefore he was more stressed than ever before.

“With this.” he said, handing his aunt the letter with his shaking hand. As Visenya read, Rowan wondered if he was angry. He seemed worried, even fearful, but was he not at least a little bit angry at the reactions he had received? Visenya finished reading, and handed the letter to Rowan. She read quickly, worried to see what had happened.

“It’s quite simple, nephew. Either you break the betrothal and find new matches for your daughter and son, or take your dragon to Oldtown and have the High Septon answer to him.” she replied bluntly. Rowan visibly stiffened at the suggestion of violence, as did Aenys, but Visenya was unflinching, almost challenging him, sizing him up to see if he’d do it.

“I do not wish for my reign to be one of war.” he finally spoke up, but it wasn’t a firm statement of a King. It was like a plea, a prayer of sorts, perhaps even to the gods if he believed in them instead of just claiming them in name, the way Visenya and Maegor did. The former Queen scoffed at him like he was an annoying child.

“You are a blind fool if you think you can avoid this. How do you think we conquered Westeros? By asking everyone nicely by raven?” she asked, crossing her arms. The tension between the two grew quickly, as Aenys straightened his back and his mouth thinned.

An awkward silence followed, before Aenys turned his lilac eyes to Rowan.

“What do you think?” he asked, catching her off-guard. She was not used to giving opinions on matters as important, and quite frankly scary, as this one. If anything, she’d be looking to Visenya and her father for answers, but she understood that the King did not have that luxury.

“Me?” Rowan asked, completely surprised. Visenya seemed curious to what approach she’d advise him to take as well. “I… I do not know if you can reach a compromise with the faith on this subject, not so suddenly. Marrying a cousin, that’s not unheard of, but a sibling? A marriage of this kind would be the first performed in this realm.” she said gently. Aenys looked at her in a way she did not think was possible. His eyes widened and he looked betrayed and hurt, making Rowan almost gasp.

“You agree with him, with the HIgh Septon. You think we are abominations.” he said, his tone not accusatory, but hurt. Rowan was quick to shake her head, to walk closer to him.

“No, no, Aenys, I do not think that of you, of any of you. Although I admit that the practice is very strange and foreign, it does not sway my loyalty to you.” she said, trying to assure him, as he looked to be in huge distress. He studied her face for a moment, his expression not changing, before Visenya sighed and spoke up.

“If she thought us disgusting, she would not voluntarily remain in our presence and service, nephew, let alone offer us her help. She speaks the truth. You cannot negotiate with the High Septon. Either you stand your ground, or you break the betrothal.” she repeated her stance, looking at him expectantly. But Aenys gave no answer. He turned around and left. Rowan assumed it would be to go discuss this with Alyssa, even with Rhaena and Aegon as well.

After that day, Rowan awaited nervously for a decision. Visenya would pat her gently on the shoulder when she saw her pick at her fingertips, a small comfort. When the King’s decision was made, one thing was certain. War.

In the sept of Remembrance, the sept built on the Hill of Rhaenys in her memory. That’s where the wedding would taka place. For once, the King stood his ground and made a firm decision. Unfortunately, this decision would only mean war. The very people of King’s Landing were turning against him, when just one year ago, those same people cheered for him and his ascension to the throne.

Rowan had never seen a reaction so huge, so negative and extreme, this against the crown, and so unanimous. Even with Visenya assuring her safety, Rowan still drowned in worry, for her family, her father, her friends, for the people, for Aenys, for everyone and everything.

She wished Maegor was here.

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

#maegor targaryen #maegor targaryen x oc #maegor the cruel #ceryse hightower #more taytay refs

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incorrecttowerofgodquotes · 1 year

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Thank you for your queer undertones analysis of tog, i really love it! If you don’t mind, can i ask your opinion about the korean and English translation of tog? It seems like you already said that the English version watered down the queer-coding and the gay subtext in tower of god, is it ok if you tell me some examples of that? I don’t know Korean so i hope this won’t bother you too much. Another question is about Bam growing his hair out again. He even said that he would like it longer, so that’s something he really wants to do. How do you think about that? What’s the reason behind that? And the last question is, could you please do more analysis about the queer subtext in tog? You did amazing job and it will be so great to see more of your analysis. English isn’t my language and i don’t use it daily so sorry if the grammar is too bad. Thank you for reading this and i hope you have a really nice dayyy!!!

Thank you for the ask! I hope you also have a nice day, and your English and grammar were perfectly fine!

1) About Korean, I don’t know any (I just learned how to type with a Korean keyboard) so I don’t know exactly how the translation differs, especially when it comes to the queer lens. I’m also not that knowledgeable on how queer society is seen in South Korea (but I’ll definitely be researching into that later). If anyone here knows even baseline info (but make sure it’s credible) then feel free to share it. From what little I know, LGBT issues in SK are still seen as taboo and kept in their niche subcultures.

2) The growing out or cutting of hair is usually synonymous with a change in character when shown in media. Bam’s hair style at the beginning of Season 2, showed how he isolated himself from others, covering his eyes with his bangs. What struck me upon the start of S3 was that Bam’s hair looked somewhat similar to Khun’s, and that he had a more confident and snarky personality that was subdued in the first two seasons. I don’t think Bam will go back to his FUG hairstyle, but instead gain a new one, one that frames his face better but shows a clear maturity. Bam might start braiding his hair, which would add another similarity to Khun, but I think he’ll just stick with a ponytail for the foreseeable future.

3) Finally for the queer analysis, I’ll probably get up to more of those shenanigans now that we’ve entered the marriage arc. I’ll probably do one over White in the near future. I might also do an analysis over the princesses and how SIU showcases the unrealistic standards women are forced under in an oppressive patriarchy

#vibrating at high speeds about shoe metaphors #thinking so much about Jahad’s shoes #tower of god #tog

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ontowanderlust · 2 years

Text

What kind of future?

SYPNOSIS. When you can see everyone’s future but your own, do you dare wonder if you had one to begin with? And while the heavens offered no answer, will you still ask which future is the right one when the person you love had someone waiting for him?

PROMPT. Fortuneteller!AU where you can see everyone’s future but your own.

TROPES. idiots in love; F2L, I swear; the art of waiting can sometimes be painful.

WC. 9k words.

WARNINGS/TAGS. Svt filo fanfic; slight angst (sobrang super slight parang kagat ng maliit na dinosaur. Rawr.); Some grammatical errors na I swear I’ll edit when I get to it; Unsolicited filo jokes (mentions of maintenance as in drugs but like in a light hearted way); food mentions;

NOTES. So. This is actually a product of a random conversation. I didn’t exactly think it would bear a fanfic out of it pero welp, here we are. Been tapping into writing in taglish again but who knows, maybe I’ll try to translate it into cohesive english din? Anyway, this is for you @moonwonuu Also, the title came from the song, What kind of future by Woozi. Kaya kung masakit man tong fanfic na to, kasalanan talaga ni Woozi yan tas damay niyo na rin si Cel kasi siya nag reco sakin nyan.

MORE NOTES. Happy birthday, Jeonghan. (I know wala kang masyadong role dito sa fic pero since birthday mo ngayon, shoutout ko na lang ikaw dito.)

You were descended in a clan of fortune tellers.

Syempre, hindi yung typical na naiimagine ng mga tao when they hear the word fortune tellers, ah? Katulad siguro ni Madam Auring (Not to be that person pero, buhay pa ba yun?) or si Master Hanz (Jusko naman yung tagline nun na "Hanz-on sa future mo" or something will remain living rent free sa utak mo every time napapadaan ka sa edsa) or that old lady sa isang morning talk show (Kabisado na nga ng pinsan mo yung spiel niya) or heaven forbid, yung mga manghuhula sa Quiapo. (Di ba gayuma yung specialization nila?)

Point is, other fortune tellers use divination as means of seeing ahead. They have techniques (tricks daw sabi ni Chan) like Astronomy, Tarot Card readings, reading tea leaves, or even looking through a crystal ball pero kayo ng family mo? You could say your family's way of foreseeing is different from the norm.

All it takes is a glance, after all.

One glance, and you'd know the person's future. Ang kaso lang, meron siyang pa-catch- terms and conditions ba, ganun.

First, you have to look into the eyes of the person. As in: mata sa mata. Would you need the other person to look at you? Hindi naman. Basta ang importante nakikita mo yung mismong mata ng other person. Although, isang malaking perk kung magkatitigan kayo. Mas clear yung vision mo.

Second, you could only take a look for certain amount of time otherwise, magkakaroon ka ng information overload and it will leave your head hurting for days. Basically, the amount of time you can garner sa pagtingin sa future ng ibang tao can only last from three seconds to three minutes. Why three? Wala lang. Gusto mo lang. You're not really the type of person to look someone in the eyes for quite too long. (Actually, trial and error din talaga ang timing ng pag tingin into the future sa family mo. There was once a rumor, according sa cousins mo na may someone na nakatagal daw ng twenty minutes. Shocking. Who even in their right mind would look someone in the eye for that long? "Did they even blink?" you had asked that one time, only for your cousin to shrug at you. "Di ba pag nagblink, you'd lose train of sight? I don't think they did." "Wow." "Di ba? Amazing.")

Third, the future you could see doesn't have a fixed timeline. Just because you've been staring at a person for three minutes straight, doesn’t mean you’ll see what will happen in the next three years or so. Minsan, your vision would take you to three minutes in the future, minsan naman it might take you three years, minsan thirty years. Point is, you could only see what will happen pero as to when it will happen? Nako. Wag mo nang isipin. Migraine lang abot niyan sayo.

Fourth, just because you saw doesn't mean it's established. Humans are fickle beings, after all. Di sila madidiktahan kung anong gusto nilang gawin sa buhay. At the end of the day, humans faced choices and it will be up to them as to what kind of choice they will make in order for the vision you saw come to fruition.

Fifth, the more attached you are to the person, the harder it is to see their future. Some elders in your family said na maybe it's because the universe still wants to find balance in everything- and by balance, they meant para daw di makapagcheat in life and abusuhin ng family mo yung ability bestowed upon you. Which is kinda bullshit kasi by bestowing this ability is already giving your family a way to cheat the system. So bale, the closer your relationship is with that person, the harder it is to foresee. It doesn't mean you won't totally see the future but more like, makikita mo nga pero it's kinda blurry and di as clear as strangers'.

And lastly- and this one sucks for you because apparently, you could see people's futures. Other people- people na wala talagang kinalaman sayo. At all. You can see anyone's future... except your own.

Di ba ang saklap? Kasi ibang tao ang nakikinabang ng ability mo. Well, depende rin siguro kung good thing ba yun or bad thing. Because on one hand, at least you're free to do your own thing. Walang looming pressure for you to take certain kinds of decisions to end up where you should be. Pero at the same time, parang di ba pwedeng kahit may onting assurance lang naman kahit papaano na may mararating ka rin in life? Na despite the struggles and challenges, may kahihinatnan naman ang buhay mo?

"And where exactly is this coming from again?" Seungkwan asked as he brandished the popsicle he was eating as he stared at the bustling quadrangle whilst the rest of his companions shared the same knowing look. "I mean- di naman sa pagaano ah? But like, you've been reciting your family's manifesto for like what, twenty times?-" he looked at their friends for back up to which they all nodded at. "- in the years of our friendship. And we're what, twelve years nang magkakaibigan?"

"Try fifteen," Soonyoung corrected to which they all simultaneously nodded again, settling in a more comfortable position.

"See?” Your lavender haired friend acknowledged. “So, really, what’s new? Kahit pa yata pagbali-baliktarin mo buong universe, yang terms and conditions niyo hindi na magbabago. Which boils down to one thing-" he stared you down with those same judgmental glare every time he felt suspicious of you. "What's got you like this?"

“Means ano daw nakita mong future bakit bigla kang nagspiral ng ganyan.” Chan pointed out, earning him a pointed look from you.

Of course, you understood what Seungkwan meant. Your friends knew you all too well, after all. You wouldn't be reciting all those shitty terms and conditions if there's nothing wrong- if you didn't see a future worth your attention.

But you did. And it's eating you deep down. Which scared you. Kasi normally di mo naman pinapansin lahat ng mga visions mo- not even when this one random dude got rejected during his public proposal. But this particular vision had your thoughts spiraling, stomach churning just by thinking about it.

"Wonwoo's gonna meet his lover soon.”

“Whoop and there it is.”

You loved Soonyoung. You really do. But sometimes this dude can really run his mouth before his brain can even catch up with it.

Turning your head, you watched as his eyes widen just as your words had sunk in his brain. "Wait, ha?" you would've found his reaction funny and you can't really blame him that his brain had short-circuited for a minute there- not when all your friends were also looking at you as if you had spoken the unspeakable.

"Wait lang," Vernon decided to finally join the conversation he had been contently listening to, raising his hand as if he's physically trying to slow down everything. "Repeat that, pero slowly."

“Exactly what I said. Wonwoo’s gonna meet his beloved soon.”

“‘The future you could see doesn’t have a fixed timeline.’ Di ba yan yung sabi mo?” He quoted after few minutes of silence as if he's arguing on your behalf. “‘You could only see what will happen, not when.’”

“Article four of your terms and conditions, just because you saw doesn’t mean established na yun.” Soonyoung proudly added. “You know, for someone who memorized the terms and conditions, bakit parang nakakalimutan mo yun? And here I thought, nasa’yo ang group brain cells for the week.” He teased, earning a smack on his arm to which he cradled in pain.

“Tsaka di ba the more attached you are, the harder it is to see?” Seungkwan added, his hands gesturing as if he was presenting a lecture. “So bakit parang certain ka na he’s gonna find someone soon?”

"Kasi." you breathed out as if you're gathering all your courage. "Paulit ulit ko na siyang nakikita.” You shrank to your seat, leaning towards Vernon who simply placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Aside from that, every time our eyes meet, yung scene na yun ang bumubungad sakin. And I really don’t want to keep replaying the scene over and over.”

“Kaya pala di ka na makatingin sa kanya!” Soonyoung exclaimed as if it all made sense, making the rest of them frown at him, Chan going as far as to reaching over to smack him at the back of his head lightly.

“Yeah,” you said, voice flat as if you’re trying to hide the misery behind your voice. “It’s a good thing we don’t have that much classes in common. Mahahalata niya agad eh.”

“Uh, no offense pero if Hoshi noticed it, what are the odds na di niya mapapansin?” Chan asked, sympathy etched upon his face, knowing the answer to his question.

“None. Zero. Mas observant kaya yun kesa kay Kwannie kapag naghahanap ng mach-chika.” Vernon answered as he tapped your shoulder in silent apology. “And- I know this doesn’t help at all pero when it comes to you, all his senses seemed to heighten.” He added much to your distress.

“Hmm, di kaya ikaw yun?” Seungkwan asked after few minutes of silence, which isn’t like him at all. “Yung nasa vision mo, I mean. Baka lang naman kasi kung paulit ulit ba naman-”

“She can see anyone’s future except her own,” they all chorused as you groaned, sinking further into your seat.

“I’ve never seen my future before, Kwannie. Why start now?”

“You tell me. You haven’t seen Jeon’s future sa years of your friendship din naman. And how long have you been friends? Fifteen years?”

“Eighteen,” you mumbled.

“Oh. Eighteen na pala. That's longer than the rest of us pa. So you mean to say all those years, wala ni isang vision ka nakita? So bakit ngayon lang?” Seungkwan challenged.

“Just because hindi ko makita ang future niya doesn’t mean wala na siya nun. Maybe ngayon lang nagmanifest or something di ba? Humans are fickle beings. Di mo sila madidiktahan. Same goes to visions like this. Just because I've known him most of my life, doesn't mean I have access to his future.”

“Di kaya dahil you like Wonwoo?” Soonyoung offered, pointing his popsicle stick at you. “Or baka nga kasi borderline mahal mo siya? I don't know, ano ba status ng feelings mo sa kanya?”

Soonyoung means well. They all mean well. You know that, they know that. Kaya lang, the thing about emotions, you tend to shy away sa topic na yun especially when you’re in the center of it. Okay lang siguro kung katuwaan, kung light hearted emotions ang pinaguusapan. Pero this kind of emotion? Parang you’d rather choke na lang than to unearth these feelings that had been buried deep down.

“May kinalaman ba ang feelings sa pagdetermine ng future ng isang tao?” Chan wondered as you sighed in relief, knowing he’s trying to at least lighten the burden from you. “Nai-influence ba ng feelings mo yung future?”

This, you can answer.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. Kasi if that were the case then sana matagal nang na-disintegrate yung future nung kaaway ni kuya Hannie.” you mused, Soonyoung looking aghast as he looked at you (It’s no secret he’s afraid of your elder cousin). “But from what I’ve heard mukhang wala pa naman nakakagawa nun. Again, we’re just seers. Di naman namin kayang maginfluence ng future ng iba.”

“So if that were the case, anong gagawin mo?” Vernon asked, softly and quiet as if he was threading lightly. “When Wonwoo found that someone?”

“Be happy for him I guess,” you shrugged to which earned you a flick on your forehead by Seungkwan making you cry out in protest as you glared at him. “What the hell, Seungkwan?”

“Ano ka, martyr?” He scoffed, glaring at you in return. “Di ka namin pinalaking duwag, __. You either step up your game, or confess. Hindi yung magmumukmok ka sa gilid just because of a future that may or may not happen.”

“Pero what if this person will be the one to give him his happiness?” You couldn’t help but wonder. “What if siya pala makakapagbigay ng unyielding love and support kay Woo? What if this person’s the one he truly needed?”

“Bakit, di mo ba kayang gawin yun? You, who knew him for so long? Di mo din ba kayang magbigay ng happiness?” The thing about Seungkwan, once you challenged him into a battle of wits, he’s the type to never back down from it. Especially if it’s to defend his friends even from themselves. “Hindi mo pa ba ginagawa yun? In those eighteen years of your lives, where were you? What are you to him?”

“His freak of a best friend.” You answered, slumping down in defeat as he sneered not because of you, but rather of your answer.

Shaking his head, his eyes softened as he reached over to pat your head, you couldn’t help but feel as if he’s knocking instead. “No, that’s not the question you’re supposed to answer.”

The thing about those terms and conditions your family had, not only they served as guide but throughout the years, they also served as a grounding point for you.

Ang weird man pakinggan but the reason why you were able to memorize the absurdity of it all was because you kept mumbling them whenever you needed a clearer mind. Pero syempre, you do it in a subtle way otherwise napagkamalan ka nang member ng cult sa mga pinagsasabi mo.

So. What was the first one again?

First, you have to look into the eyes of the person. As in: mata sa mata.

“I thought,” Wonwoo spoke up, breaking you out of your reverie and back into the café where you both decided to eat out. “We established na kahit anong titig ang gawin mo, you won’t be able to find anything?” He asked, the interest in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Or have you just realized na you can’t seem to get enough of my eyes?”

Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you couldn’t help the giggle coming out of your mouth as you shook your head at the absurdity of his statement. “At saan mo naman napulot yan, Jeon Wonwoo? Masyado yatang nasosobrahan na ang pagdikit mo kay Soonyoung ah?”

“And there you are,” he chose to ignore your statement, resting his arms on the table as he tilted his head at you, faint traces of smile can be seen upon his lips. “You know, kala mo di ko napapansin pero these days you seem so down. Is there anything I can help with, my beloved bestie?”

Ah, really. Whatever will you do with him? Paanong hindi ka magkakaroon ng feelings when he’s like this? When he makes you feel like you’re important and that whatever it is that you think matters to him?

How can you stop these feelings that had taken place inside you and made a home out of it? How can you ignore the growing excitement when he does this- when he gave you all his attention? His worries and care for you?

Just as you were about to open your mouth, another scene is bleeding through your sight, overlapping the warmth in his eyes- a scene of him flashing the same warmth, maybe even warmer than what you’re used to, the faint smile on his lips growing every second until it erupted into deep, hearty laugh.

Everything seemed to be hazy but you could never miss the look in his eyes as he stared onto the person who was supposed to be right in front of him.

Could you see it? The person he was supposed to be like this? The person he can be carefree with?

Blinking, you shook your head, willing a small smile to creep across your mouth so as he won’t notice the shift in you. “Pagod lang, Wons.” You settled instead, swallowing the words that threatened to escape your lips. “I think nagcatch up lahat ng sleepless nights ko. Heh.”

Eyebrows furrowing, his eyes ran through your features, studying your expression intently as if he was trying to figure the lie in your statement. Deep down, you knew he knew you’re being dishonest but you knew he would never pry- not when you’re closing yourself from him.

Truthfully, you knew it hurt him. Kasi si Wonwoo yan eh. Even if he looked aloof and distant, he is easily the kindest person you’ve ever known in your life.

“Say, Wons,” you try to backpedal, earning his attention. “What will you do when you find the person na destined for you?”

Squinting his eyes, he looked at you as if you sprouted another head. “Ang random ah?” He remarked as you gestured for him to roll with it. “Is that what’s bothering you? Akala ko ba your family specializes on fortune telling at hindi matchmaking? Nag change career na ba kayo?”

Contorting your facial expression into one of a disgust, he couldn’t help but smile at you. “Okay first of all, yuck. Bakit ako magch-change career into that? Meron pa bang matchmaker sa panahon ngayon? Parang nag regress buong diwa ko dun, Jeon Wonwoo, ah?” You protested much to his amusement, letting out a full-blown laughter that caught attention from the patrons of the coffee shop as you kept going on and on about your disdain with matchmakers.

Leaning over the table, he placed both of his hands over your cheeks, gently shaking your face, effectively catching your attention. “Oo na, ayaw mong tawagin kang matchmaker-”

“Kasi di naman yun yung purpose ko!” Your words came out slurring due to his hands pressed on your cheeks but did you mind? No, not at all. “Isang malaking insultong tawagin akong matchmaker, Jeon Wonwoo. Tandaan mo yan.”

“Yes po, kamahalan. Masusunod po.” He grinned, poking your cheeks one more time before he released you. “And to answer your question, I think… I’ll give that person my all. My unconditional love.” His voice turned wistful, a secretive smile forming on his lips as he averted his gaze towards the cooling beverage he had ordered earlier before snapping out of it as he turned back to you. “Pero parang wala pa naman siya sa point na…” he trailed off, shrugging as he effectively ended the discussion right there.

Something about your exchange had your stomach turning. What was that all about?

“Normal bang nangyayari yung matagal mo nang kilala yung tao tas wala kang makitang future niya ni minsan tas out of nowhere bigla ka na lang nagkaroon ng vision?” You asked, watching your cousins bicker over the last dumpling, your question making them cease their movements as they looked at you.

Seems these days people who are close to you kept on watching you as you voice out your thoughts. Was it really that unusual? Do you always keep these things close to you while you figure out what to do?

“Is this about your best friend dilemma?” Jeonghan asked as he wrestled Joshua out of his arm, sneakily taking the last dumpling before popping it into his mouth much to the latter’s exasperation.

“You know about it?”

“No offense, pero ang daldal ng mga kaibigan mo, __.” Seungcheol shrugged, answering for him instead as he offered you his drink to which you graciously accepted. “They had actually beaten you with that question a week ago pa.” He said, making you slightly frown at his statement.

Hay. Minsan di mo rin talaga alam kung matutuwa ka at meron kang concerned na kaibigan or maiinis kasi masyado silang nosy. Pero either way, you couldn’t help but feel grateful at their concern for you- no matter how excessive it would seem.

“Di rin naman namin masagot yung tanong, just so you know. Wala rin naman kaming nasagap na rumors about this happening in the past before. Di katulad nung sa twenty minutes rumor.” Joshua offered much to your dismay. “Kaya I don’t think you need to-” just before he could even finish his sentence, he was elbowed by Jeonghan, whose eyes narrowed as they both shared glares.

Just as you were about to ask what was that all about, you felt a presence at your side, standing behind the empty chair beside you.

Blinking, you turned your head only for your eyes to widen in surprise. Namamalikmata ka ba? Because there, beside you was none other than the person you had been talking about to your cousins earlier.

“Hi,” Wonwoo had the audacity to grin at you as if he wasn’t crashing your cousins’ lunch out before turning to your surprised cousins. “Hi kuyas. Pwede makitable?”

“Hi Jeon,” Seungcheol, the ever quick thinker was the first to recover, gesturing for him to take a seat to which your friend had graciously accepted. “Napadaan ka?”

“Ah, yayayain ko sana si __, kain kami ng lunch kaso sabi ni Nonie kasama niyo daw.” He recounted, trying to catch your gaze as he talked. Even as his attention was directed to your cousins, he was still trying to include you. “Tas sakto nakita ko kayo from the outside so it must be luck to run into you, di ba?”

Jeonghan studied him for a moment before flitting his eyes towards you. “Luck or fate?” He asked, earning a groan from you and a small laugh from your friend. “I don’t think swerte din Jeon. In case di mo nakikita, tapos na kaming kumain.”

“Di pa daw tapos si __,” Joshua was quick to interject before Wonwoo’s expression take a dip. He then turned to you as if to reiterate his statement. “Tsaka di ba sabi mo gutom ka pa?”

“Di ba sabi mo gusto mo pang umorder nung dessert nila?”

“Sige wait, order na ako para sainyong dalawa ni Jeon,” Seungcheol’s tone wasn’t taking no for answer so instead of arguing, who are you to refuse free meal? “Anyway, okay lang ba iwan na namin kayo?” He asked after talking to the waiter, making you turn your head sharply towards him. “I still have class after this while Han and Shua naman-”

“-thesis,” your cousins who were sitting across you chorused while you gave them pointed look. You know for sure these three were lying. If it weren’t for your friend’s unexpected appearance, they would’ve pushed through their plans of ordering the aforementioned dessert.

Di naman sila halata masyado no? Kung pwede lang silang bigwasan right here, right now, you would’ve done it already.

Kaya lang since they are going as far as to treat you another helping of food and paying for your best friend’s lunch even if they didn’t have to just so you could spend more time with your friend, you decided to lay them off.

“Eat well kayo guys,” Shua was the first out of his seat followed by Jeonghan who simply offered a salute to the both of you but not before throwing a wink towards your direction and a look that says he wanted to know what happened once you get home.

Seungcheol was the last to leave, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. Unknown to you, he had also been staring down at your best friend with a silent threat should there anything befall unto you in his absence.

“Pakabusog kayo,” he said with a close lipped smile. Beside you, you could feel your friend stiffening as he reached over to pat him on the back. “See you at home, insan.” He bid you as he went on his way.

Once he was out of your sight, Wonwoo took the opportunity to occupy the seat Jeonghan was previously sitting on, tapping at your shoulder to catch your attention. "Be honest, busog ka na ba? Kasi if yes, I don't mind eating all of these pero you have to accompany me nga lang." you would've swoon over his concern if it weren't for the mischievous glint in his eyes as if he was challenging you to agree with him.

"Hah," you let out a small scoff, picking up the dessert spoon, much to his amusement. "Minsan na nga lang manlibre si kuya Cheol tas ikaw lang makikinabang? Swerte mo naman, Jeon Wonwoo." you muttered, earning a chuckle from him, watching you eat your heart out.

"Oo, swerte talaga ako- wag mo sabihin kay kuya Han pero he was wrong. Isipin mo, akala ko di kita mahahanap pero guess what? Nakita agad kita tas nakalibre pa ako ng lunch from kuya Cheol- out of all people? Must be my luckiest day." he placed a hand on his heart as he bowed down at the food before him.

Chuckling, you were reminded of the question that was hanging on the tip of your tongue earlier. "Bakit mo pala ako hinahanap?" you asked absentmindedly, making him turn to you as you held his gaze. "Wala naman tayong scheduled lunch ah?

Second, you could only take a look for certain amount of time otherwise, your head will perceive it as information overload and it will leave your head hurting for days.

"Wala, gusto lang kita makasama." he said, oh so casually as if the answer was as simple as that, the rush of feelings inside you making you falter in your movements as the colors bled in your line of vision, the familiar sensation of pushing you into the future overpowering your senses. “Tsaka we haven’t had our-”

You couldn’t hear him as his voice blended into the background of voices filling your ears, muffled voices overlapping each conversation that even if you strained your ears to focus onto anything, you couldn't make sense of what was being spoken as the rush of air passing you by so quickly that you couldn't even sense if you're staying still or not.

And as for your sight? Everything seemed so blurry that you couldn't see anything at all.

The only thing that made sense was the cool sensation brushing upon your arms every once in a while, trailing down until you could feel it settle onto your hands, giving you that sense of relief. And if you concentrated hard enough, it almost felt like it was grounding you back, anchoring you once more into reality.

Remember when you had to set a limit kung hanggang kailan ka lang tititig sa isang tao? This, is exactly why- to be able to protect you from the onslaught of sensations. Pero minsan kasi may pagkamatigas din ang ulo mo no?

Cold hands engulfed your hands making you jump in surprise, breaking you out of the barrier that separated reality from the future. And despite being cold, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth behind the gesture, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hands, patiently waiting for you.

Blinking rapidly, your gaze found Wonwoo’s concerned look wash over your features, sighing in relief once he knew you were back.

“You okay in there?” his tone had became quieter and lowered than usual, his eyes searching for any hint of discomfort in yours. “I lost you there for a moment.” He may be joking but the tremble of his hands upon yours said otherwise. “What goes on that pretty head of yours at di mo pinapansin yung pagr-rant ko sayo? Minsan na nga lang ako magrant, di mo pa ako papansinin.”

Squeezing his hands, you let out a small laugh before sweeping your gaze from his eyes towards the bridge of his nose- your safety net whenever you’ve had your fill of staring into people’s eyes but still not wanting to be rude. Oh, to hell with it. Si Wonwoo lang naman ‘to, di ba? Eyes darting from his nose to his cheeks- and maybe even his lips- before you settled your gaze on his forehead, you raised your free hand, pausing on mid-air.

Sensing your hesitation, he bent down once he realized your intent, silently prodding you to continue as your hands seemed to have a mind of its own, running through his hair, wordlessly responding to the meaning behind his words.

Thank you for your concern, I’m here now. I’m okay.

“…just some boring stuff, Wons.” Still, you answered, offering him a bite of the dessert you were enjoying earlier. “Ano nga uli yung sinasabi mo?”

“Okay so meron lang akong di ma-gets sa family manifesto niyo,” Seungkwan suddenly announced as he made a beeline towards the seat next to yours, ignoring the glares thrown his way from being too loud in the private room of the library.

Plopping into the seat next to you, his eyes bore into yours for a moment making you reel back from his sudden actions. “What?”

“Paano mo nalalaman na hindi instant yung future na nakita niyo? Like, how certain are you na mangyayari talaga sya? May pa-feedback ba kayo sa mga customers niyo?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you turned to Vernon, sharing the same confused look before the latter decided he’d rather not get involved, shrugging at you before going back to his notes, leaving you to deal with this Seungkwan.

Gee, what a great friend you are, Chwe.

Flicking his forehead slightly, feeling small satisfaction from his small cry of protest, you push him gently, deciding to indulge him for a bit.

“One, wala kaming customers, uy. Bakit namin to pagkakakitaan in the first place? Eh sakit nga ng ulo yung inaabot namin dito plus- ang hassle kaya?” You mused, tapping on the table rhythmically. “Also, sa tagal nating magkaibigan- hell, sa tagal ko ba namang pag rant ng family manifesto namin, ngayon mo lang yan na-realize?” You pointed out, his mouth curling into a sheepish grin while you rolled your eyes at him. “Nakikinig ka ba talaga o sadyang tumatango ka lang para matapos na ako?”

He brightened, “Kasi ba naman bhie, kahit naman tumango tango kami hanggang sa maputol ulo namin di ka pa rin umaawat,” he rolled his eyes. At your periphery, you could see Vernon nodding along at him, silently agreeing. “So saan kami lulugar di ba?”

“Tama,” Vernon muttered, making you throw a crumpled piece of paper towards his direction to which he had dodged easily, sticking his tongue out at you. Really, Vernon. Isa kang tunay na kaibigan.

“Eh di sige, fault ko talaga to guys. Ako lang naman ang nagpupumilit na magrant sa inyo. Sorry di ako nagpaalam sa inyo bago ako mag rant. Sino ba naman kasi ako sa buhay niyo no?” You harrumphed, making Vernon snicker at your dramatics while Seungkwan looked at you fondly, shaking his head. “Sana di niyo na lang tiniis no? Ako lang naman ang nasaktan dito, opo.”

“Gagi,” Vernon guffawed, looking up at you as he earned annoyed groans from the background. “Ang drama mo today, ah? Di ka nakainom ng maintenance?”

Rolling your eyes, you stuck your tongue out at him to which he responded by giving you a finger heart.

“So paano nga?” Your lavender haired friend insisted, drawing you both back to the topic at hand. “Eto na lang, was there an instance ba in your life na na-delay yung predictions mo?”

“Ano to, job interview, Kwannie? Ano ina-apply-an ko at magkano ang sweldo dito?”

“Uhm,” Vernon raised his hand. “Di ba perfect example yung kay kuya Wons?” He asked, making you falter momentarily before schooling your features back to neutral as you snap your fingers and point at him to reiterate, ignoring the way your stomach dropped.

So eto na naman tayo, no? Bakit ba pag yun ang na-topic nagiging ganto ka? Bakit ba ang lakas ng effect sa’yo at bakit ka masyadong affected every time nab-bring up yan? Ano ka ba? Ano ka nga ba?

Di ba sabi mo best friend ka lang?

Right. Apparently, Seungkwan felt the same way, raising his eyebrows at your reaction. Before he could even open his mouth- probably to call you out, a deep voice had beaten him to it.

“Ano sakin?”

“Ay kabayong palaka,” he jumped at his seat, diffusing the tension momentarily as you watched Wonwoo take the vacant seat next to Vernon- just across from you, smiling at you in greeting before nodding to your companions, blinking at an affronted Seungkwan who was clutching his chest. “Kuya pwede ba magpasintabi ka naman bago ka magsalita? Para ka kasing ninja.”

Seriously. Some people should be fined at how good they look even when they're not doing anything. Bakit ba mas lalong nakakagwapo mga ngiti mo, uy?

"Kuya Wons, wag mo kong daan daanin sa mga ngiti mong ganyan, di na yan nagw-work sakin. Hindi por que gwapo ka may karapatan ka nang manggulat. Mag sorry ka sakin, dali."

Bless you Seungkwan, for calling him out. Hindi katulad ng isa dyan, ikaw talaga ang tunay na kaibigan.

Letting out a sheepish smile, Wonwoo bowed his head solemnly towards the boy beside you. "Sorry na, bebe Seungkwan, di ko po sinasadya. Next time dala na lang ako warning bell para alam mo andito ako."

"Wag mo rin akong daanin sa bebe, baka sa kanya nagw-work yan pero sakin hindi. I need suhol." Seungkwan scoffed light-heartedly as he pointed at you, making Vernon snicker at his boldness.

Before you could even stop yourself, you felt your hands clutching Seungkwan's arm in a- what you hope- death grip as you stared at your notes. Never mind. Isa kang alagad ni Satanas, Boo Seungkwan. Tandaan mo tong araw na ito. The boy in question jerked on his seat, leaning towards you as he buried his face on your neck to prevent himself from crying out in the library and risk being thrown out.

"Shuta ka, bhie," he rasped out underneath his breath, making you curl your lip in a satisfied smirk.

"Sige may utang ako sa'yo Kwannie pero first, pwede palit tayo seats?" your best friend's deep voice broke you both out of your bubble as you both looked up only to be met with an unreadable expression on Wonwoo's face.

Huh?

"Ha?" Seungkwan was the first to recover, eyebrows furrowing at the sudden request, his eyebrows furrowing as you can feel his body faltering in his seat.

"Nagf-flare up kasi yung notes ko underneath the lighting so di ko rin mabasa plus masakit din kasi sa ulo." Wonwoo coolly explained before rounding towards the space between you and Seungkwan, pushing the boy upright before taking his seat. If you didn't know any better you'd say that it looked as if Wonwoo had exerted more force than necessary when he pushed the boy out of his seat.

You then turned to Vernon, who was simply looking on at the exchange with the same interest in his eyes. Did the two of you just witnessed that?

Looking up, he then smiled gratefully to your lavender haired friend as if he hadn't rudely took his seat. "Sorry sa abala and thank you Kwannie, libre kita milktea mamaya."

And just like that, it seemed all protests dancing on the tip of his tongue had vanished from the mention of free drink. Well.

"So ano yung sakin?" Wonwoo asked again, turning to you as Seungkwan took the seat he was previously sitting on. "Been talking about me behind my back?"

Your two companions shared a look before looking at you, who simply turned to meet Wonwoo's gaze- the familiar sense of haze occupying your periphery before looking at the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll meet your lover soon, Jeon Wonwoo.” you blurted out, better ripping out the bandaid, right? Your statement earned a squeak of surprise from Vernon while Seungkwan's eyes widened at the sudden burst of courage from you. "Kita ko sa mata mo." you added, searching for any reaction coming from your best friend.

"Shuta ka bhie." you heard Seungkwan mutter underneath his breath as he watched the exchange intently while all of your attention simply focused on the boy beside you.

What are you looking for anyway? Elatedness? Pure joy? Relief? Bakit parang gustong gusto mo talagang sinasaktan sarili mo?

“I see,” your friend solemnly nodded as he looked at his notes before yours. "Have you finished your essay last night? Nag all-nighter ka na naman ba? Di ba sabi ko sa'yo tumawag ka sakin para ma-proofread ko?"

What.

Out of all reactions-

“Wait wait." Apparently, Seungkwan felt the same because he was reaching over the table, waving in front of Wonwoo's face- does this boy even know the meaning of personal space? "Wait lang talaga kuya. Di mo ba siya narinig? Sabi niya you’re gonna meet yung uhm how to say this without sounding too cheesy?” he asked, turning to Vernon helplessly.

“In short magkakajowa ka na kuya,” he spoke up, hands pausing at his notes, coaxing a reaction from your best friend.

He looked at you, tilting his head as if he's studying you. What exactly is he looking for? “Okay,” he said, slowly as if he's trying to appease the two before he shook his head, tapping onto their notes, silently telling them to go back to reviewing, much to their dismay- Seungkwan going as far as rolling his eyes before pouting in his seat, leaving you dumbfounded.

How should you take this kind of reaction from him?

Fidgeting in his seat, for a moment there he looked as if he's wistful over something- as if he was contemplating on something. Shaking his head, it looked as if he had decided because then added, "Mukhang matagal tagal pa bago mangyari yan."

“Kuya, may instance ba na you wished you never had this ability in the first place?” You wondered, kicking your feet high in the air as you watched Joshua’s hands fly over the canvas, stroke after stroke with such interest, despite hanging yourself upside down on his loveseat. “Yung ano, makita yung future ng iba every time na magkakatitigan kayo ng ibang tao, ganun?”

Your cousin let out a small hum as he turned to look at you, acknowledging your words, "Meron pa ba tayong ibang ability aside from knowing the future?" he asked, mirth dancing in his eyes before turning back to his project. "Why'd you ask ba?" he asked over his shoulder as you basked in the lull washing over.

It was one of those days where you just want to hide away from the world and whenever you felt like escaping, you knew you'd find solace in your cousin and in his humble private studio located outside of your university, away from prying eyes and meddling people.

It was always like that with your cousins, you mused. Even when they always band together to annoy you sometimes, they would still drop everything in an instant whenever you needed help. And that goes also with whenever you needed a reprieve. Their personal safe haven is always open to you.

It’s funny how fitting their personal spaces to their personalities.

Often times, when you feel like you needed to scream out to the void and let your emotions out no matter how raging it is, Seungcheol’s doors are wide open for you.

Whenever you needed to stare out into the open without the need to interact with any individuals, you always find yourself running into Jeonghan’s side.

And when you don’t want to be alone in unraveling all these tangled thoughts and emotions, Joshua would be there, patiently waiting as you wade out in too deep waters, helping you up should you reach for his hand.

“Have you,” you ignored his question, averting your gaze when you saw him pause in his movements, knowing definitely something was up with you. “Ever wished that you could be selfish just for once that you'd want to see what your future holds instead?”

You were never one to express your emotions really well, preferring to bottle everything up and locking it in before anyone could even see through you. That’s why your cousins had to familiarize themselves with your tells.

And so for you to ask directly had truly surprised your cousin.

You know very well he's studying you, trying to get past the defenses you had unknowingly put up the moment you asked the question, the both of you knowing very well the reason why.

“You know, in the years you’ve complained about our family’s... curse, this is the first time I’m hearing you asking to be selfish,” he commented, placing his brush gingerly back into the cup, palette joining thereafter as he rubbed his hands on a washcloth before nudging you as he joined you on his loveseat. “What goes?” His voice gently prodding you to open your heart just like how it’s always been whenever it’s just the two of you.

“Wala naman,” your voice shuddering, hands trembling as he placed his hands over them in small offer of assurance. “Dapat wala naman kasi. Kaso I can’t help but feel like this is not fair. I didn't ask for much- hell, I didn't ask to be like this, and I didn't ask for something more than what was given but why does it feel like the moment I wished- asked for something-- someone, why does it feel like the entire universe is against it?”

“I told Nonie na magiging masaya ako for Wons the moment he found his someone,” you continued, squeezing his hands as your lips curled into a bittersweet smile. “And wala naman problema, actually. Kasi I really would be happy if I know na yung someone na yun makakapagpasaya sa kanya kaso these days, it seemed as if all these pent up emotions are threatening to burst out. It’s as if parang gusto kong maranasan kung paano ibigay ‘tong pagmamahal kong ‘to sa kanya, you know?”

“And as I continue to wonder and dwell with all of these, I can’t help but ask- meron din ba akong future?” you paused as you looked your cousin in the eyes, his warm brown eyes greeting you with the same comfort his presence brought. “Meron din ba akong space sa future niya?”

Heaving out a deep breath, he pulled you back into upright position, before shifting your weight making you lean towards him, his arm automatically finding its way around your shoulder as you tilted your head onto the junction of his neck.

“Fourth,” he breathed out, reciting the same words you’ve memorized all these years. “Just because you saw doesn't mean it's established.” His voice quiet and somber, slowly rolling the words out as if he’s asking you to remember why the rules were there in the first place.

“Humans are fickle beings especially when it comes to emotions. Just because you tried to close yours doesn’t mean immune ka na dun. You love him for quite some time now and maybe it’s your inner self’s way of saying na it’s time to give these emotions to the person cause you’ve endured it for quite too long na.”

“I find it hard to believe that after all these years between you two, Jeon would just carelessly cast you aside because he found his someone.” He mused, his hand hovering over your head, gently patting. “So to answer your question, yes. May space ka sa future niya. I don’t need my own fancy ability para i-confirm yan. And while I never had the need to know my own future, minsan nakakatakot yung hindi mo alam kung meron ka ngang patutunguhan sa life.”

“So what you do,” he pulled away for a moment, poking your forehead then your cheeks before bopping your nose, reflexively scrunching at his touch. “Is to forge your own.”

Silence engulfed you both with him studying your features. Once he was satisfied with your expression, he reached over the loveseat for the box that you hadn’t paid attention to when you crossed his studio that was resting on the table. “If it helps- and I think it really will, someone left this for you,” Joshua announced as he placed the box of pastries on your lap. “It doesn’t really take a genius to know who this came from.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the post it note on top of the box bearing that familiar handwriting as you open to see your favorites greeting your sight.

‘A little pick me up for a gloomy day. Don’t finish these all in one sitting para di rin sumabay yung tiyan mo sa pagiging upset natin today.’

His handwriting is atrocious. Kulang ng dalawang pastries yung nasa box. But it still elicited a small smile from you- the sweetest after weeks of keeping up pretenses. It really did help, you mused.

“Ay,” Joshua called over, catching your attention once more as if he had just remembered something. “Kung kulang yan, singilin mo si Han.”

“Hinay hinay baka mabilaukan ka dyan, Jeon Wonwoo,” you watched him fondly as his cheeks puff out from stuffing his mouth with the food you two had ordered.

“Ah, nga pala.” he said slowly as he swallowed the last bit of his food, while you automatically reached over to wipe his mouth before he turned towards you, catching your hand with his while his eyes displayed nothing but seriousness. “Why do you call me like that?”

Is it because your emotions are going haywire these days? Or is it because of the looming pressure of what you’re about to do had you thinking that something in the air had possibly shifted.

What it was, you don’t know. But you just knew from the way Wonwoo imposed his question, something inevitable will happen.

Is this perhaps the end of the ticking bomb that had started the moment you saw Wonwoo’s future? Or is this perhaps the rush of the falling sand of a half empty hourglass?

Should you acknowledge it? The change that had happened without him knowing anything?

“Call you like what, Jeon Wonwoo?” You feigned innocence, tugging your hand free only for him to slightly tighten his grip, catching your attention.

“Exactly like that,” his voice drowning from the bustling sound from your background, the warm sunny disposition of the school quadrangle in contrast of the air shifting between you two. “Jeon Wonwoo,” he repeated, face contorting into repulsion as if he had tasted the most bitter food he had ever eaten.

“Grabe naman, bakit ganyan hitsura mo?” You laughed, trying to change the course of your conversation as he threw you a pointed look. Why do you keep running away from him? You both knew that's what's going on with his mind right now. So decide. Do you continue to run or do you stop and face it?

“Di mo ba gusto pangalan mo? Gwapo kaya pakinggan, tsaka what else will I call you but your name?”

“Sa tagal nating magkaibigan,” he started as he leaned back on the trunk of the tree. “The only times you called me by my full name was when you needed to point out something, when we're arguing, and when you've had enough. Tell me, have you reached your limit now? Have you gotten tired already?”

“Never,”

“Then why does it feel like you're putting too much of a distance between us? Why does it feel like you're trying to put me in such a pedestal that you couldn't reach?”

Minsan, it still surprise you how well Wonwoo knew you. From your thoughts to your emotions, he could easily tell the difference. Sometimes, it makes you wonder if he knew just how deep your affection for him ran- if he even knew of the existence of it in the first place or baka kasi sadyang ito lang ang kaya mong itago sa kanya sa takot na mawala siya from you.

“Because I want to protect myself,” you found your voice trembling as his breathing hitched, not really expecting you to finally stop running. “Kasi hindi ko alam ang gagawin ko once that vision of you comes true.”

Eyebrows furrowing, his eyes looked pensive as he patiently waited for you to finish. “Didn't I tell you? You're gonna meet that someone who will make you truly happy. In the words of Nonie, magkakajowa ka na and I know matagal mo siyang hinintay kaya imagine the elation you must've felt nung nakilala mo na siya in my vision. And I'm happy- truly, kasi it means that you're happy. Kaya lang din ako naging distant these days was because I had to deal with my own emotions. These same emotions that I have harbored for a long time for you.”

“Kumbaga, I just had to come in terms of the fact na I can't be the one to give you that amount of happiness,” you whispered, swallowing the sob that was threatening to come out. Your heart beating erratically against your chest and in the silence that crept between you two, you're almost too sure that he can hear it too.

Up until now, your cousin's advise is still hanging above you, making you wonder if it's alright to take his word for it and take the leap. But as you look at Wonwoo's dumbfounded expression, you finally had the answer you were looking for.

“Nevertheless, I'm still going to try.” with this small burst of courage, you dare continue. “I love you, Jeon Wonwoo. Always have been ever since you had approached me first in that small playground. And even if it won't be me who will be there by your side, can I still love you?”

And as your words left your lips, so had the courage that had possessed you momentarily in the heat of the moment. Eyes widening, you blinked as you scrambled to your feet, your picnic laid forgotten as you try and put distance between you and him.

But with the sound of pitter patter of his feet, you knew very well that it would only be a matter of time before he caught up to you. Kung hindi lang seryoso yung situation niyo, malamang napagtawanan mo na siya kung paano na naman siya tumakbo. However, with him catching up to you easily, holding your hand as he turned you towards him, teasing him was the last thing in your mind.

“Look at me,” Wonwoo's voice had dipped lower than his normal baritone, chest heaving from small exertion. “Did you mean what you had just said?”

“You know very well I don't say things that I don't mean,” you mumbled instead, head bowing low. Sorry, Woo pero expired na yung tapang ko kanina, you wanted to say but chose not to as you tried to wiggle yourself out of his grasp much to no avail.

“Look at me,” you could hear the desperation, the pleading that you couldn't help but raise your head as your eyes flitted immediately towards the bridge of his nose. Your safety net, as always. “Come on, look at me. What do you see?”

Fifth, the more attached you are to the person, the harder it is to see their future.

“Wonwoo,” you warned, shaking your head as he let out a small sigh as he pushed his forehead towards you, nudging you gently.

“No?” his voice close to crying- wait, what? “Dali na, please? Look at me and tell me, what do you see?”

Gathering the last of your strength, you gently moved your head, not wanting to pull away from his hold as you stared into his eyes, the familiar warm sensation lulling you into gentle assurance just as it always had been.

“What do you see?”

“Wait lang, ang foggy pa ka-”

“Way past that, love.” his voice firm and impatient. You didn't know what shocked you more- the fact that he's being impatient or the fact that- did he just called you..? “I know you can ignore the fog- dali na, what do you see?”

And just as what he had said, you ignored the fog that was creeping through your sight as you concentrated on what he had wanted to show you.

“...me.”

Letting out a small laugh of relief, his hands made its way towards your cheeks, finally allowing himself to caress you, shaking your head gently before tilting your face to capture your lips with his own.

And just like that, you could feel the cool sensation wrapping you once more- the same sensation that had anchored you before, the rush of air passing by you as the sight of series of his future flashed behind your closed eyes.

His laughter, and his frustrations, the longing, and the dejection, all of it comes down to one reason- you.

As the need for air arise, both of you reluctantly pulled back but not him going for another peck on your lips and on your forehead.

“Just like it's always been, my love.” Wonwoo whispered against your forehead. “Ikaw lang ang nakikita ko sa tabi ko for the rest of my life and I don't need to have your ability to confirm that. It's you and will always be you.”

Ignoring the rush of emotions blooming against your chest, you wrapped your arms around him. “Sorry it took me this long,”

You can imagine him smiling as he placed his head over your own. “Doesn't matter. You're here now, right?”

At loss for words, you simply nodded, letting yourself snuggle against his chest, not caring kahit magmukha pa kayong tanga sa gitna ng quad.

“I love you too,” he mumbled, catching your attention once more. “Please keep staying by my side, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered just as you felt his cool hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You may not know what lies in your future but somehow you had inkling that it would all turn out well.

You forge your own future, after all.

#seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen filo fanfic #svt filo fanfic #svt filo fic #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo x reader #svt wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #svt filo imagines #seventeen filo imagines #svt imagines

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

All's Fair - Chapter 6

Emily and Aaron have loved each other since they were children. War might be the thing that finally brings them together, but it could also be the thing that tears them apart forever.

A Hotchniss AU, set in 1917 and beyond.

-x-

Thank you so much for the love for this fic. I cannot believe we are at the penultimate chapter.

I really hope you enjoy this, and would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.6k

A list of warnings and tags can be found on the Series Master List

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily,

I cannot begin to explain how much I needed these last couple of days. Every second was worth the long journey and they will get me through the journey and back and whatever comes next.

It’s strange to know how life has carried on with everything I have seen over there. One day I might have the words to tell you some of it, but for now, just know that you and Mae are the balm I need to remind myself there are good things. That I can be part of something good.

As I write this you are asleep next to me. I can feel the warmth of your skin, and hear the sound of you snoring. (You can’t deny it, you do.) I’ll spend the foreseeable future trying to recreate this feeling, the peace only you can bring me.

I know I’ve already said it, but I want to make sure I’ve written it down. That it’s something you can revisit when you need reminding. I love you, and I am so proud of what you are doing here - the way you are raising our daughter. I hope that she turns out to be exactly like you. And I hope even more that I get to see it.

When I look at her, it amazes me that part of her came from me. That something so perfect can come from someone so broken.

Leaving is something I wish I didn’t have to do. I would give anything to stay here, to finally be the family we deserve to be.

I will do everything I can to come back to you. To both of you

All my love,

Aaron

___

She couldn’t explain it if asked, but it felt worse this time. His departure and the absence that followed sharper, a type of pain that she’d fooled herself into thinking she was used to. She ached with it, her chest tight in a way she’d forgotten it could be.

She slowly paces Mae’s nursery, the weight of her daughter against her chest the only thing that was keeping her together. Mae fusses in her arms, unable to settle in a way that was out of character for the usually calm baby. Emily kisses the top of her head and rubs her hand in soft circles on the infant’s back, whispering gentle words against her little girl’s soft skin.

“I know, sweet girl,” she whispers, kissing her head again, “I miss Daddy too.”

Emily thought that seeing them together, that her brief glimpse of seeing Aaron as the father she always knew he’d be, would help. That it would show her what was to come when she finally had him back for good. But it hurt.

If she closed her eyes she could picture how they’d discovered that Mae found it hilarious when Aaron frowned. The baby’s cheeks stamped with dimples they bickered over, both convinced she got them from the other, as she smiled up at her father, as close to laughter as she ever had been as he tried to hold the frown in place. Emily realises she should have known that it would never be enough, that even if they were lucky and he came back and they got decades together she’d still want more.

She’d grown up reading as many romance novels as she could get her hands on. Not because she believed in it, or hoped for her own happy ending that she never dreamed she’d get, but because they made her world bigger. Her mother had always insisted that Emily was as educated as possible. That she could talk to anyone about anything. It meant she was well-versed in many topics and spoke several languages, but it had never truly been for her benefit. It had been so she could represent the family, so she could attract a husband. Do the duty she had been born into with no choice in the matter. She knew of the world, but hers was small. Reduced to the town she was born in. The house she still lived in.

It felt like there was no small amount of irony in the fact it was now where she was raising her own daughter.

The books she’d read had meant she could go anywhere she wanted. It was only now that she knew the love in them was real. Something she had experienced herself first-hand. She had seen love’s true face. The beauty and the horror of it, sorrow and joy two sides of the same coin.

She feels Mae get heavier against her and she tilts her head to look down, smiling sadly when she sees her daughter is finally asleep. She kisses the side of her head one more time before she lays her in her crib.

“Love you,” she whispers, tracing her fingers over Mae’s forehead before she leaves the room, careful to ensure she pulls the door gently closed behind her.

Emily hesitates briefly before she climbs into her bed, pulling the covers that still smelt like Aaron tight around her, seeking the warmth that she knew she wouldn’t find without him there. She buries her face in the pillow he’d used, hoping sleep would find her as easily as the grief was able to.

___

Aaron,

It feels like an age since I last saw you, but as I’m writing this you are likely not even back in France yet.

The bed still smells like you. JJ keeps trying to change the bedding but I won’t let her until it fades and it just smells like me again.

Mae laughed properly for the first time today. It was beautiful. For the first time since you left us again, I felt truly happy, even if it was just for a second.

Mother is giving me space, and I am grateful for it. She seems to finally understand that I want to do all of this my way. Either that or she feels so sorry for me that she’s just letting it go. I can’t bring myself to care, I’m grateful either way.

I love you. I’m somehow more in love with you now than I was yesterday. And I know I’ll love you more tomorrow.

‘Semper in absentes felicior aestus amantes.’

That means ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ if you don’t remember your Latin poetry from our tutor. I seem to remember you and Governness Strauss always being at odds with each other.

All our love,

Emily & Mae

___

She doesn’t know how to feel when she gets her period a couple of weeks after Aaron leaves. A strange mix of elation and disappointment makes her stomach churn with something other than the familiar cramps.

She wasn’t sure she could have handled a second child so close to having Mae. It was something her doctor had warned her about, and her answer at the time had been a wry smile and a quiet reminder that her husband was in Europe. Emotionally she would have struggled too, sure she would have actually had to hire the help she had so firmly denied from her mother for months.

But she can’t shake the feeling that this was it. Her only chance to have more of him, for there to be more of him left in the world in his children. Her heart hurt at the thought of something she’d never had in the first place.

She holds Mae even closer than usual that night, more determined than ever to give her all of the kind of love she wishes she’d grown up with herself.

___

Emily & Mae,

I don’t know what makes it to the news back at home, but things here are, almost impossibly, worse than ever.

I can’t go into details. Even if I found the words this letter would never make it to you if I did, but the small bits of home I have with me are getting me through. I still have the telegram that was sent by Rossi to confirm Mae had been born safely. I have our wedding photo and the photo of the two of you.

I wear the ring you bought me all the time now. I’m not the only man here with one. I think we all see it as a reminder of home. Something we can see that we don’t have to dig through our pockets for. I know you don’t believe in luck, Em, but I’ve come to see it as a good luck charm of sorts. If I make it home, I promise I will never take it off.

I love you, and I’ll try to write again soon.

All my love,

Aaron

___

September 1918

Emily laughs as Mae shifts on the grass, scooting the small distance to her mother’s side, her tiny fists littered with the small petals of a daisy she’d squished as she grabbed it. She presses her hands into Emily’s thigh, pushing herself up as she often tried to do these days, desperate for her mother’s love and attention as she always was.

“Ok I get it, baby,” she says, reaching for her daughter. She picks her up, holding her firmly as she holds her up in her lap, Mae’s tiny feet pressing into Emily’s legs as if she was standing by herself, “Look at you,” she exclaims, smiling widely as Mae giggles, always happy, “You’re standing up. Such a clever girl.”

Mae babbles at her, noises that were so close to Mama it made Emily’s heart ache, and she reaches out for her, leaning in to seek out more of her mother’s embrace. Emily doesn’t hesitate for a second, adjusting her hold on her daughter so she was holding her flush against her chest, not caring for a second about the grass stains that were sure to transfer over to her own clothes.

“You ok, sweet girl?” She asks, even though she knows the 7-month-old cannot respond. Mae rubs her face against Emily’s chest, the usual sign that she was tired. “We’ll go back inside shall we?” Emily says, managing to stand up with her daughter still in her arms, a move she was well practised at, “Maybe we’ll nap together.”

Mae’s response is to cling onto Emily a little tighter, her hand twisting into her hair as it so often did when she was tired. As if she was trying to anchor herself to Emily, still too young to understand that there was nowhere Emily would rather be than wherever she was.

Emily reaches back down for her book and can’t help but smile at the sight of the torn-up daises, the flowers that the baby seemed to love just as much as she did.

“Did you know your daddy used to work here,” Emily says, proud of herself for the way she was able to talk about Aaron without her voice wavering. She struggled if anyone mentioned him to her, but whenever she spoke of him to Mae, which was often, she was fine. As if his existence had been reduced to a secret between the two of them - the people he loved more than anyone else, “He used to make fun of me for liking daises so much,” she adds, kissing the side of her daughter’s head as she starts to walk them away from where they’d been sitting and back to the house, “He’d always said they are weeds. But I think they are beautiful.”

Mae makes a small noise that sounds like agreement, her face still pressed into Emily’s skin, and it makes Emily chuckle. She walks back to the house quickly, determined to get the little girl down for her nap. As soon as enters the house she’s met by Dave, her mother and JJ. All clearly waiting for her and stood in a line. It makes her falter, her hold on Mae tightening slightly as the baby gets heavier in her hold, already on her way to being asleep.

“Emily, where have you been?” Elizabeth asks, an urgency to her voice that makes the hair on the back of Emily’s neck stand up.

“Just sitting outside with Mae,” she replies, looking back and forth between the three people standing in front of her, not liking the kind look on any of their faces, “I’m bringing her in for a nap. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t I take her up?” JJ says, walking toward her and easing Mae out of her arms. Mae fusses a little, waking up slightly as she realises she’s no longer in her mother’s embrace. “Then you can all talk.”

Emily nods, finally tearing her eyes off of her mother to look at Mae for a second, leaning in to kiss her baby’s forehead. “Love you, sweet girl.”

JJ walks away with Mae in her arms, heading for the stairs as she talks softly. Emily looks back at her mother and Dave, and she swallows thickly.

“Why don’t we go into my office?” Elizabeth says, and Dave nods. Emily follows them wordlessly, worse-case scenarios flooding her brain in an instant.

“What is going on?” Emily repeats as they make it into the office. She allows herself to be guided into a seat. Dave ends up next to Emily, clearly there as some kind of moral support, and Elizabeth takes her seat at her desk.

“I received a letter from the head of the team Aaron is on this afternoon.”

Emily’s mouth goes dry, her senses briefly dulled as the words, and their implication, sink in. “What? I don’t understand why would he write to you?”

Elizabeth clears her throat, clearly struggling with the information she’d received herself, a tension in her body Emily doesn’t recognise.

“It seems Aaron had an arrangement in place that any…difficult news would be delivered to me, not you directly.”

“Difficult…” Emily chokes out, her hands tightening into fists in her lap, “No. Please don’t tell me he’s…”

She drifts off, not able to say the words out loud. She feels like she wants to run. All she wants to do is go upstairs and grab her baby and run. But she can’t move, weighed down to the chair by everything she has spent well over a year trying desperately to avoid.

“Captain Gideon’s team were involved in a small operation, and there was an explosion,” Elizabeth says far too calmly for Emily’s liking, her voice a direct contradiction to the way her eyes are shining, “There were six fatalities.”

Emily feels tears pour onto her cheeks, and she doesn’t try to wipe them away, knowing it is pointless, that they’d only be instantly replaced.

“Is Aaron one of them?”

“They don’t know.”

She frowns, her huffing out a sound she can’t identify, “What do you mean they don’t know? How can they not know?” She feels Dave’s hand on her shoulder, a familiar comforting squeeze she’d felt the day of her father’s funeral, but it’s all she can feel, the rest of her body numb.

“There were ten men on the mission. Six were confirmed dead, two returned and two remain unaccounted for. Aaron isn’t one of the two that came back. Due to the…nature…of the explosion, it is unlikely they will be able to identify the dead for some time.”

Emily laughs, and it feels inappropriate, but it’s all she can do. The sound escaping before she can cover her mouth to capture it.

“So, what? We’re just supposed to wait? I’m just supposed to wait to find out if my husband is dead or not?” She exclaims, her fingers twisting her wedding ring around, the small band of metal the heaviest it had ever felt, “He…he wears a wedding ring. That’s not overly common…maybe-”

“Apparently it’s something a lot of the men have taken to doing,” Elizabeth says softly, cutting through her one strand of hope, the thread that had been holding her together.

She can’t place the order of things. Isn’t sure if she breaks first, or if Dave pulls her into a hug and then she breaks, her tears pressed into his jacket as he attempts to comfort her. At some point, she hears the click of the door, her mother leaving her in the presence of the person she’d always sought comfort from over her.

“Everything will be alright, Bella,” Dave says, using the nickname he hadn’t used since she was young. When she used to sneak into the kitchen downstairs, her knees scraped from where she’d fallen when out in the grounds with Aaron and Sean. Dave would comfort her before giving her a piece of candy as he bandaged her up before sending her on her way to her parents.

“How?” She asks, pulling back to look at him, “If he’s dead,” she sobs, the word tasting bitter in her mouth, “If he’s dead, how can anything be alright?”

Dave doesn’t have an answer for her, no words that will bring her comfort, and they sit in silence, the only sound her tears and the clicking of the clock on the wall.

___

Emily thinks it may have been the longest two weeks of her life since her mother pulled her into her office. There had been no news since. No telegrams. No follow-up letters from the commander or from Aaron himself.

Not for the first time since this all began, Emily finds herself furious that the world carries on. Anger she cannot completely contain making her unable to keep still. It felt absurd that the sun continued to rise, that the grass grew and daises bloomed. She couldn’t go out to the grounds anymore, couldn’t look at anything, other than Mae, that reminded her of him. Of what she may well have lost.

She busies herself, desperate to keep her mind occupied in a way other than re-reading the letters from Aaron again. She finds herself in the room that had slowly turned into a library of sorts, organising the books she’d collected over the years. She appreciated the fact it was just hers, something that no one else had really ever had a part of.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and Emily knows it can only be her mother. She sighs and gives herself a moment to prepare herself before she responds.

“You can come in, Mother.”

The door opens and Elizabeth comes into view, “How did you know it was me?”

Emily smiles wryly, “The only people who know I like to spend my time in here are you and Dave, and he always jokes I’m at my most dangerous when I have a book in my hand.”

Elizabeth smiles at that before she clears her throat, “Where’s Mae?”

Emily freezes for a second but carries on putting her books in a pointless pile, not looking at her mother as she replies, “She’s napping. When the house is this quiet I can hear her from here if she cries,” she flicks her eyes over to Elizabeth before she looks back at the books, “Was there any mail?”

“Not today,” Elizabeth replies, watching as Emily visibly deflates. She sighs, intently watching her daughter for a moment before she carries on, “Emily, I think it’s time you accepted-”

“No,” Emily firmly cuts her off, continuing her task of re-organising her books, needing to do something, anything, to keep herself busy. She already knew what her mother was going to say, and she didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to be forced to talk about it.

“Emily, I know what it is to lose the person you love. You need to think about it, for your sake and for Mae’s-”

“Don’t tell me what is best for my daughter,” Emily snaps, the book she had been holding dropping down to the table in front of her, the crack of the hardcover against the wood echoing around the room, “And Dad died here, Mom,” she says, choking on a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she throws her hands in the air, “Not in some godforsaken field in France. He died here. And you got to hold his hand and be there. And you got years with him. Not enough, I know, but years. I’ve had days with Aaron. Days.” She stares at her mother, unshed tears in Elizabeth’s eyes and Emily feels her own tears fall onto her cheeks. She wipes them away furiously. “So, excuse me if I refuse to accept it until I have confirmation that he’s dead. Because the thought of it…of him just gone without me getting the chance to say goodbye, without telling him one more time how much I love him,” she shakes her head again, her chin trembling with the force of the emotions she was trying to hold back, “It’s too much to bear.”

“I just think-”

“You paid for that doctor to travel all the way from California because you’d read somewhere that he might be able to help, Dad,” she lets a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, unsure herself which one it was, “He was dead by the time he got here,” she shrugs, her shoulders heavy with everything she’d endured for the last year and a half, “How is this different? How is me holding onto the tiny bit of hope I have left any different from that?”

Elizabeth wipes a tear from her cheek before clearing her throat, grief for herself, for her daughter and granddaughter almost enough to choke her. She eventually nods almost indiscernibly.

“I guess it isn’t,” Elizabeth finally says. Emily thinks if things were different between them, if they had the relationship Emily hoped to one day have with her own daughter, her mother would have stepped forward to hug her then. To wrap her in her arms and tell her that, no matter what, everything would be alright. Instead, she stands there, several feet away from her, a sad smile on her face Emily doesn’t remember seeing for quite some time, “I never apologised to you for how I was after your father died,” she says, shaking her head at herself, “I was so…wrapped up in my own grief, in everything I was about to have to do, that I didn’t allow myself to think about the fact you’d lost something too.”

The admission surprises Emily. It was one of the many things they’d never addressed. Something else that had pushed them to where they were now. The strange thing was, Emily had never had more empathy for her mother than she did right now. It wasn’t lost on her that she could already be a widow and a single mother without knowing it, that her wilful ignorance of it until she had confirmation from the army wouldn’t make it any less true if Aaron really was dead. In a cruel twist of fate, she may well have ended up in the exact same position as her mother, albeit much earlier on in her life.

“It’s ok,” Emily chokes out, unsure what else she can say, “If Aaron…I don’t know what I’d do.”

Elizabeth steps towards her and reaches out to grab Emily’s hand, squeezing it in hers like she hadn’t done for years.

“I know that you wouldn’t leave Mae behind in it all,” Elizabeth says, a flash of something Emily would call pride crossing her face as she mentions her granddaughter, “No matter what you end up having to wade through, I know you’ll keep her head above water too. You’re already a far better mother than I ever was.”

Emily doesn’t know what to say, sure that whatever it was would be wrong, somehow inappropriate. She blows out a breath, feeling it shudder as it escapes as if it catches on every rib on its way out. It feels like she has barely any space to breathe, her lungs stuffed full of pre-emptive grief that she refuses to let out.

“Thanks, Mom.” ___

Aaron,

I don’t even know why I’m writing this.

I have nowhere to send it because the one place I know you aren’t is where you should be. Here.

Everyone keeps telling me that I need to come to terms with the fact you’re gone and that I am a fool for hoping for anything different. Hope is as necessary as it is foolish, so I will hold onto it with both hands until someone tells me for certain you were one of the men who died.

I haven’t said this to anyone, because it sounds ridiculous even to me, but I think I’d know if you were dead. I think I’d be able to feel it.

I’ve never really been sure what I believe in. Whether there is a heaven or what comes after this. Good vs evil never seemed as black and white to me as they tried to make it seem in church, especially now after everything that’s happened over the last few years.

But if you’re there, if you really have left us, I hope it’s good. Please wait for me, because I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for you.

I love you.

Emily

___

October 1918

She stands back as she slides the last book into place, pushing it to level with the others on the shelf.

Shortly after her conversation with her mother, bookshelves Emily hadn’t asked for or ordered arrived and were then built by the estate’s handyman. They were a silent show of support from her mother and she appreciated it.

“Well, baby girl,” Emily says, looking over to where Mae was sitting in the corner of the room, surrounded by her toys, “That’s the last of them.”

Mae smiles at her mother, clapping her hands together, babbling in a way that only Emily seemed to understand.

“I know,” Emily replies enthusiastically as if her daughter had said something interesting, “We’ll get some chairs in here I think,” she says mindlessly, “That way, when you learn to read in a few years we can practise in here together. And when you’re a bit older, you can read whatever you want. Poetry’s always been my favourite,” her smile slips from her face, “Daddy always made fun of me for it.”

There was still nothing, no news or updates that were positive or negative. Elizabeth had even tried to use her connections, something that Emily was grateful for for the first time in her whole life, but there was nothing. Complete silence.

Emily didn’t understand how anyone could simply disappear, or how she was supposed to accept it. She feels all too familiar grief climb up her chest, greeting her like an old friend. She clears her throat, forcing it back down before she looks back at the books.

“Maybe alphabetically wasn’t the way to go,” she says to herself, using the same distraction she had used for weeks in an attempt to calm herself, “The Dewey Decimal system is more modern but-”

She’s cut off by a knock on the door, and she sighs, closing her eyes as she continues to try to calm down.

“I’m not really in the mood for company, Mother,” she says tightly, not turning to look at the door, “Can you come back later?” The door opens anyway and her frustration turns quickly into anger. She whips around, already speaking, “I said I want to be-” She cuts herself off. Her words dying in her throat as their eyes meet. For a moment she forgets to breathe. Everything reduced to just her and the impossible sight in front of her. “You…”

Aaron steps towards her, approaching her tentatively like she was a wild animal, and he stops just short of touching her.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

She takes a step backwards, “No, you’re…this isn’t…” she trips over her words, everything she’d repressed for weeks rising to the surface, overwhelming her, “You were missing. They wrote and said they didn’t know where you are,” she covers her mouth with her shaking hand, just barely catching a sob before it escapes, “I thought you were dead.”

It’s the first time she’s said anything close to it since that afternoon in her mother’s office when she first found out something had happened. Ever since she’d spoken around it, alluded to it in different terms. Worried that if she said it it would make it real. She feels her heart crack in her chest, and she covers her face with her hands.

“Em.” He steps forward and pulls her into a hug, not offended when she tenses slightly, all too aware that her emotions were fraught, “I was hurt after the explosion,” he says, kissing the top of her head as she snakes her arms around him, her body finally catching up with her brain, “I was still mobile and got lost in all the confusion. I ended up in a different hospital from the others. I wrote to you.”

He feels her respond, her words vibrating through his chest, but he doesn’t hear it. He pulls away from her, his hands on her shoulders as he looks down at her.

“Sorry love, I didn’t hear you,” he says softly, removing one hand from her to point at his ear when she looks at him, her tear-filled eyes narrowed in confusion, “My ear was damaged in the explosion, the doctor said I’ll likely never get all my hearing back.”

“I said I didn’t get the letter,” she repeats, her gaze shifting to his left ear. She reaches out to touch it as if she could feel the damage she couldn’t see, “Your hearing…”

“It’s just the left side,” he explains, and she nods, acknowledging she understands, “But it’s enough that the army can’t make use of me anymore.”

She freezes again, her hands grasping the back of his jacket, the scratchiness of the material enough to bring her back to the moment fully for the first time since he walked in.

“You mean…” she drifts off, sure she’s somehow misunderstood, that the universe wasn’t suddenly being kind to her after spending so long being cruel.

“They honourably discharged me,” he says, smiling at her, leaning down so his forehead presses into hers, “I’m home for good.”

She breathes out, her lungs feeling relief in a way she’s sure they haven’t since this all started. Since she’d sat on a bus, a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly that she didn’t know about yet as she watched him disappear from view. She cups his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss, foregoing any attempt to be gentle.

“I love you,” she says, pulling back just far enough to speak, before she kisses him again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replies, his hand buried in her hair, refamiliarising himself with the feel of her, “I’m sorry you were so worried.”

She chokes out a laugh, and she was about to tell him that worried doesn’t even come close to covering it, but they are interrupted by a cry from the other side of the room. Emily looks over, laughing at the slightly put-out look on Mae’s face as she starts to crawl over to her parents.

“Sorry, Mae. We haven’t forgotten about you I promise,” she says, disconnecting herself from her husband as she walks the short distance to their daughter, wiping her tears from her cheeks before she leans down to pick the baby up. She hauls her onto her hip, kissing the side of her head before she turns back to Aaron.

“She’s gotten so big,” Aaron says, smiling at the sight of his girls together, “She’s beautiful.” He can’t believe how much she��s grown, how different she looks from the last time he saw her. If he thought she looked like Emily back then, she certainly looks more like her now. He tries to ignore the pang of hurt as Mae shies away from him when he reaches out for her, burying herself further into Emily’s side.

Emily wipes fresh tears from her cheeks, sure she’d never stop now she had started “She’s ok, she’s just a bit shy around…”

She stops herself, cutting herself off before she says something that could upset him. Aaron smiles tightly at her.

“Around strangers,” he finishes for her before he wraps his arm around her.

“You’re not a stranger,” Emily says, leaning into him, not wanting to be anywhere other than with him anytime soon.

“I’ve missed a lot,” he laments, watching how Mae watches Emily, all of her focus on her mother as if she’d somehow inherited his love for her despite the fact she’d never really seen it in action.

Emily presses a kiss to his cheek before she pulls back to look at him, keen to make sure he hears her.

“You’re here now,” she says, smiling widely at him, “There will be plenty to see and do together.”

Aaron nods, pulling her into his chest, grateful when Mae doesn’t seem to mind being close to him as long as Emily is too. He kisses the top of his wife’s head, breathing in the scent of her, filling his lungs with it. Letting it replace everything that had taken residence in his chest since they had last seen each other. It finally sinks in that he’s home. Because home had never been the Prentiss’s estate, or the tiny house he used to live in on it.

Home had always been her.

“We can do everything.”

-x-

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i-believe-in-melinda-may · 5 months

Text

In my head i’m calling this from Leading a Fleet to co-parenting an exercise by Bill and Laura

“So um,” Laura says, looking away from Bill after a few moments as she realises what they were doing. “As much as I hate to say it Saul was right,” Laura admits, as she walks over to the couch, deciding that they do need to talk about a few things, and hearing that Bill fights a smile, as unless he was in the middle, which happened more than he would like to admit, it did amuse to watch the way Saul and Laura would argue. “Rioting broke out on a cruise ship when they reduced water rations,” Laura says as she sits down, still holding Bill’s gift. “We need to demonstrate an ability to maintain order; and we need to do it now,” Laura admits.

“We don’t have the manpower for fleet security,” Bill tells Laura, as he sits down next to her, feeling concerned about what that could lead to.

“You have the only armed, disciplined force available,” Laura points out.

“Yeah, but I'm not gonna be your policeman,” Bill informs Laura. “There’s a reason we separate the military and the police: one fights the enemy of the state, the other severs and protects the people. When the military becomes both, the enemies of the state tend to become the people,” Bill tells Laura.

“Quoting your father?” Laura asks, as she could see Jospeh Adama saying something similar to that.

“No, just expressing what I have learnt over the last forty years,” Bill corrects, not sounding insulted or annoyed, but clearly not wanting to talk more about his father.

“Bill, I appreciate the complexity of the issue, I really do, which is why I won’t let that happen,” Laura assures Bill, feeling the need to reach out and touch his arm to reassure him, but she fights that impulse.

“I’ll send troops to the cruise ship,” Bill says to Laura, how against the idea he is being perfectly clear in his voice, but it is also clear that he will do it.

“Bill, I promise, I won’t let that happen,” Laura once again says and the two of them drift into silence.

For a little while Laura and Bill sit in comfortable silence, despite the fact that they both have things that they need to be doing as after everything that happened both feel comfort in just ‘existing’ together, and neither wants it to end so soon.

“Can I ask you a question?” Laura asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes,” Bill responds, wondering what Laura is going to ask and why she asked if she could ask it first.

“Where are we going?” Laura asks.

“I take it that’s not a rhetorical question,” Bill assumes as he stands up.

“No, it isn’t,” Laura confirms. “I get asked that question every day, people all over the fleet are asking where Earth is and how we get there,” Laura reveals.

“Would you like some water?” Bill asks, as he walks over to his drink cart.

“Yes, I would love some water,” Laura responds, so Bill collects two glasses and his flask of water. Once he has to the two glasses, he walks back over to Laura who he hands the glasses too.

“Tell them we’re keeping it a secret for security reasons,” Bill says as he pours the water into the glasses that Laura is holding.

“I know what to tell them,” Laura admits. “What do you have to tell me?” Laura asks, as Bill sits back down next to her, and takes one of the glasses, putting the flask on the table in front of them.

“At this time, the focus is getting supplies and resources, that will dictate the movement for the foreseeable future,” Bill explains, and Laura realises what he is not saying.

“So, no plan,” Laura realises. “You’re hoping to get away from the Cylons, you’re hoping to find fuel and water and a hundred other things we so desperately need and you’re hoping that eventually we stumble upon a place we can call home,” Laura realises. “That’s a lot of hope, Bill,” Laura tells him, wondering if it’s all too much.

“I’m an optimist,” Bill says as he takes a drink.

“Since when?” Laura asks surprised, as while there are a lot of words, she has used to describe Bill Adama in the years she has known him, optimist is not one of them.

“Since it’s the only option we have,” Bill responds. “Keep the faith, Laura, if there is water out there my pilots will find it,” Bill tells Larua, showing the complete belief he has in his pilots.

“I believe you,” Laura says, knowing Bill well enough to know that he would have faith in his pilots for a reason, before she takes a drink of water.

“Speaking of pilots, we need to talk about Lee,” Bill admits, knowing it is an awful segway, but it was the opening he needs.

“Is he okay?” Laura asks concerned, feeling worried for her son.

“He’s struggling with what happened with the Olympic Carrier,” Bill admits, and Laura feels a rush of guilt about that as she knows that she was the one who put their son in that position. “I tried talk to him, but... I don’t know, I don’t know if I said the right thing,” Bill admits. “He’s in pain and I don’t know what else to say to him, Laura,” Bill admits, it being clear that it is painful for him to admit that.

“I’ll talk to him,” Laura assures Bill, as this time she doesn’t hold back, and she does reach out and put a reassuring hand on his arm, and he gives her a grateful look.

“How’s EJ doing?” Bill asks, as he hasn’t really had a chance to check in to see how his daughter is doing.

“Honestly, she’s struggling,” Laura admits. “She’s up and down, emotionally which considering everything is perfectly normal,” Laura admits, though she can admit to herself that that doesn’t make it easier to witness, and she also knows that it’s likely only to get worse once EJ learns of her diagnosis, but that’s a conversation she’s not ready to have, especially not with Bill. “But on top of everything else that we’re all dealing with she’s also getting used to the fact that you’re...” Laura starts to say, then trails off as she isn’t sure how to best describe what she wants to say without hurting Bill.

“In her life full time for the first time?” Bill finishes, assuming that is what Laura is going to say, and honestly while there’s been so much bad in the last couple of weeks, he does know that for him there has been a silver lining in the form of getting to be in his daughters' life more than ever before.

“Yes,” Laura confirms. “Before the attacks EJ was pushing boundaries,” Laura admits, and as soon as she does, she sees the worried look on Bill’s face. “Nothing to worry about, I would have called you if it was,” Laura quickly adds. “Just typical teenager stuff, skipping class, coming home late, arguing back, seeing what she could get away with, where the lines were,” Laura explains, and as she does Bill realises what she isn’t saying.

“You mean seeing how far she could push you,” Bill realises, feeling guilty that Laura, after already handling most of that kind of teen angst with Lee and Zak was once again dealing with it with EJ.

“Yes,” Laura confirms. “Which is why I think it’s important for you and I to get on the same page,” Laura admits, knowing that sooner than she would like this kind of thing will be up to Bill alone so she wants to make sure he’s used to it before then, as that’s what’s best for him and EJ.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Bill confirms. “Do you really think she’d play us against each other?” Bill asks and Laura gives him a disbelief look.

“To get what she wants? Of course, she would,” Laura says, knowing that without a doubt. “I assume you’ve noticed Bill, but our little girl is incredibly stubborn," Laura says, and Bill look amused by that. “She knows what she wants, and she won’t let anything stand in her way to get it, and she tends not to react well to being told she can’t do something,” Laura tells Bill.

“Sounds familiar,” Bill admits, as EJ sounds like both of them.

“I know, she is definitely our daughter,” Laura says with a fond smile, one that Bill returns. “I'm actually surprised she left the meeting today without arguing,” Laura admits.

“I guess the excitement at going to go see Kara was enough to override her annoyance at not being included,” Bill guesses.

“Sounds about right,” Laura admits. “Bill that’s something we do have to decide now, what conversations EJ is going to be a part of,” Laura admits. “Over the last ten days she’s been helping Billy with all the requests I get, and I’ve wanted her close so she knows a lot, but we should decide where the line is,” Laura admits.

“I know,” Bill says with a sigh. “I want her safe, and she’s only fifteen,” Bill says then he realises something. “She’s sixteen in less than a month,” he says, like he can’t believe it.

“She is,” Laura confirms, forcing herself not to think about the fact that it is very likely the last birthday of EJ that she is going to be alive for, because if she does, she will fall apart. “She's also mature for her age and we don’t live in typical times anymore, but we know a hell of a lot, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea for her to know all of it,” Laura admits. “However, that being said, I also don’t want to lie to her more than necessary,” Laura admits.

“Lee knows almost everything because of his military position,” Bill admits. “So, I'd suggest we tell EJ as much as he knows, as much as Billy knows, unless we decide together that for whatever reason there is something she shouldn’t know,” Bill suggests, thinking that would be best, as considering the close quarters it would be hard to keep a lot from EJ.

“That sounds fair,” Laura admits. “But we both have to agree for us to keep something from her,” Laura tells Bill. “We make the decision together, we deal with the consequences together,”

“Agreed,” Bill confirms, feeling that that is fair. “Which brings us back to boundaries,” Bill admits. “I think the first ones we need to decide on are the ground rules about Galactica and Colonial One, and her movements between and within them both,” Bill admits, throwing everything he has into ‘really’ parenting EJ now that he has the chance.

“I agree,” Laura confirms and the two of them proceed to have a conversation about the ground rules they are going to give their daughter.

#laura roslin #bill adama #spaceparents #roslin x adama

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