#where she mentions an 'elusive feeling of sickness' following her for her entire life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gravelyhumerus · 3 years

Text

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Nine

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Chapter Summary:

Emily and JJ sleep together.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Content warning: detailed descriptions of sickness, abortion mention.

—

Jennifer Jareau looked like a drowned rat.

A pretty, blonde, sniffly drowned rat that Emily Prentiss had a massive crush on.

She was soaked head to toe, her running shoes muddy and her hair slicked to her skull. She was shivering and looking absolutely miserable. Over her shoulder was her blue duffel bag full of her soccer equipment. It was a Monday, so Emily knew JJ had a practice that afternoon.

“Pen locked me out of our room,” JJ said without greeting as she walked into Emily’s room, “And I need a towel.”

“Hello to you too, Jayje,” Emily said sarcastically.

She stepped back to let her friend enter, shivering at the thought of having to play soccer in the pouring rain, let alone a rainy November afternoon when the temperature was verging on freezing. Ever since the brutal storm on Halloween, the weather had been dreary and wet.

Emily could see the field from her window, it was across the street by the Arts building. While she, and the rest of their friends, made a point to go to all of JJ’s games together and cheer her on, Emily was thankful that the weather had been ok so far, she wasn’t sure how much hypothermia she could handle for one girl.

She grabbed her bath towel and tossed it JJ’s way, and opened her closet to find a cozy sweater to offer. Well, Emily thought, she probably would take hypothermia to support JJ, she just wouldn’t be happy about it.

JJ was simultaneously drying her hair and rifling through her bag. She was still shivering from the cold.

“I left my keys when I ran out of my room this morning,” JJ explained, “And Pen promised she’d be here when it was over.”

“I think she’s teaching Hotch how to knit at his dorm,” Emily said with a laugh, having seen her Insta story a few minutes prior of Hotch struggling with his hands tangled in yarn.

“Just wish she would’ve left the door unlocked,” JJ muttered, “I think I have my spare keys in here somewhere.”

“Here, take this,” Emily said, handing her a grey hoodie with “Oxford” written on the chest, a souvenir from when she lived in England.

Emily turned around so JJ could at least get out of her wet shirt and into the sweater. For a second, the devil on her shoulder told her to look into the mirror on her closet door, that if she did she’d catch a glimpse of JJ shirtless, but Emily shook her head slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Guilt flared in her stomach at the thought.

She’s been thinking about JJ too much lately.

Their kiss. Their magical life changing kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. That was basically all Emily’s brain could focus on these days.

Before that, her fantasies about Jennifer Jareau were simply fantasies, but now! Now she had her memories. That kiss lingered on her lips and on her brain and in her dreams. Sometimes late at night Emily has found herself putting a thumb onto her cheek, closing her eyes and pretending it was JJ’s hands pulling her closer, just as she had done in the basement on Halloween.

If she had to describe how she felt, the only thing that made sense was to say that Emily was absolutely smitten with JJ.

But, and there was always a but, they hadn’t mentioned the kiss since. Not even a word of acknowledgement between the two.

The day after, when she and Derek walked to class, he interrogated her about what the hell happened , but Emily genuinely didn’t know. What she did know was that it wasn’t Emily who instigated, she thought, it was JJ who had pulled her tight and whose tongue swept across hers.

That week, Emily had grown more and more concerned that she had crossed a line. JJ had started acting strangely, looking away anytime Emily looked at her and telling her that she was too busy to hang out. Then, that weekend JJ had surprised her with a party. A party to celebrate Emily, and Reid and Hotch.

Emily realized that JJ wasn’t ignoring her, instead she was scheming something to make Emily happy. And what had she done? Cried in the bathroom and made a scene. Instead of JJ realizing that Emily was a broken shell of a girl and running far from her, JJ had held her tight and told her everything was going to be ok.

Emily didn’t tell her everything that day, not about all the awful things she did to fit in as a teen, about her mistakes, her abortion, about Matthew… Not yet. Emily had tucked all of that into a box that need not be opened up any time soon.

So now, Emily had the thoughts of JJ’s lips dancing around her brain, but also of her hand in hers, her arms around her and the way she promised she’d always be there.

This got in the way when Emily was trying to focus on other things like school or carrying on a conversation with the blonde.

JJ sneezed, startling Emily out of her thoughts. She turned back around and looked at JJ, who’s hair was slightly less wet and was now wearing her hoodie and looking a little bit warmer.

“À tes souhaits,” Emily said, saying bless you in French.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” JJ grumbled, dumping some pens out of her backpack in search of the elusive keys. “Kennedy’s gotten half the team out with the flu.”

She sneezed again.

“Gesundheit,” Emily said, having fun with her languages.

“She got it from her boyfriend,” JJ continued, “You remember Anderson? On the water polo team?”

Emily nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, watching JJ sitting on her bed in her clothes, imagining a completely different situation where she would do that. (Emily’s thoughts were full of comments like these, her imagination going wild at the prospect of JJ maybe liking her back.)

“I’m going to kill Garcia,” JJ said, “She told me she’d be in our room after our game.”

“Aha!” JJ said, pulling her lanyard out of a pencil case. “Got them. Thanks Em for the towel. You’re the best neighbour I could ever ask for.”

JJ handed it back, and Emily took the slightly damp towel and hung it up on the back of her closet.

“Anytime,” Emily said, “Though I think this may be an elaborate plot to steal all of my clothes.”

JJ looked down at herself.

“I think it suits me!”

Emily had to agree.

———

Two days later, JJ was at Emily’s door again, but looking a lot worse for wear.

A pink fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, she was wearing oversized sweatpants and a sports bra, and her hair was messy and tucked behind her ears. Her nose was red and her skin looked pale.

“Hey Em,” JJ rasped.

“You’re sick,” Emily pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Nice work, Sherlock,” she said, coughing into her blanketed arm.

“What’s up?” Emily asked, leaning on the door frame.

“I’m out of cold pills and can’t sleep,” JJ said.

“It’s like nine pm?” Emily said, the statement coming out as a question.

“I have practice at six in the morning,” JJ said, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, sniffling a little. The girl was swaying as she stood.

“You cannot actually be going to practice in that state,” Emily said.

“What state?” JJ barely managed to get out between sneezes.

“ Bless you ,” Emily said, knowing the girl definitely needed it.

Emily went to her desk, rummaging through a drawer. She found the very end of a cold and flu medicine pack, the kind with day and nighttime pills and handed them to JJ.

“Those good?” Emily asked.

JJ nodded and thanked her, before trudging back across the hall.

Before her door closed Emily said: “ Please take a break JJ!”

“I’m fine,” came the nasal voice of her friend, followed by the sound of her blowing her nose.

———

On Wednesday, JJ showed up to their weekly French study date somehow looking even more sick. There were bags under her eyes, and a wracking cough made her entire body shutter with its force.

JJ continued to insist that she was fine, despite the fact that she spent more time coughing than speaking French.

Emily was worried about her, but knew at this point, nothing she would say would make the very determined girl slow down.

———

On Thursday, Emily walked into the girls’ bathroom, toothbrush in hand before bed, and found JJ curled up on the floor next to the toilet, looking pale as a sheet.

“JJ, oh my god,” Emily said, pushing open the semi ajar door and kneeling down next to her friend.

“Mmm fine,” JJ made out, her face in her arms, not lifting her head to talk to Emily.

“This is the exact opposite of fine, JJ,” Emily said.

She had absolutely no idea how to help her.

Emily thought back to all the times she had been sick, and it had usually been whatever staff her mother had had at the time who took care of her. Nannies, cooks, assistants would bring her food, take her temperature and put buckets next to her bed. Ambassador Prentiss wasn’t the kind of mom that Emily would see on TV worried about her child when they were sick.

“Do you want water?” Emily asked, feeling helpless.

JJ shook her head, not raising it from the edge of the toilet.

“The floor is nice and cold,” JJ said, “I like it here.”

Emily almost laughed, and would have if she wasn’t so worried about the other girl.

“What do you need, JJ?” Emily asked.

“Nothing,” JJ said, “I can handle this.”

JJ’s hair hung limp around her face, and Emily leaned forward, taking the elastic from around her wrist and helped JJ pull her hair back. Emily couldn’t help, but she could at least keep JJ’s hair from getting puke on it.

Clearly hitting another wave of nausea, JJ moved, emptying the rest of her stomach into the toilet and then flushing. Emily rubbed her arm up and down her back, hoping that the motions would be comforting.

While the toilet did its thing, JJ sat back, leaning against the grey stall door, her shoulder resting against Emily’s. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed tightly against the fluorescent lights.

“I really don’t feel good, Em,” JJ whimpered.

“I know,” Emily said, “What do you want?”

“Water,” JJ croaked.

“I’ll get some,” Emily said, patting JJ on the shoulder. JJ nodded, returning to her hunched over position on the toilet.

Emily basically sprinted down the hall, and spotting JJ’s slightly ajar door, she pushed it open to find Penelope sitting at her computer.

“Hello my beautiful goth friend,” Penelope said, “How may I be of service to you?”

“JJ’s currently puking her guts out,” Emily explained, slightly breathless, “She’s asking for water.”

“Oh my poor dear,” she said, pushing back from her desk and hurrying over to JJ’s night-side table to retrieve her water. “She told me she was going to shower, I didn’t think she was that bad.”

“She kept telling me she was fine,” Emily said, “Even while she puked.”

“Typical,” Penelope huffed, following Emily down the hall, “Can’t show any weakness. Both of you! I’m sick of it.”

Emily didn’t say anything, not sure if she could argue that accusation. She followed Penelope into the bathroom, hovering by the sink as Penelope took over her caregiving responsibilities.

She gently felt JJ’s forehead, and held up her water bottle for JJ to rinse her mouth.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Penelope said after a few minutes without any puke. “Em? Help us?

JJ stook shakily, and when Emily took her arm, JJ leaned into her, putting most of her weight on the taller girl. Penelope carried JJ’s water and shower things back for her, letting Emily take care of the dizzy JJ.

Penelope held the door open, and Emily guided JJ into bed, hovering awkwardly as JJ nestled into her bed and Penelope grabbed their trash bin and placed it next to her.

“I’ve got it from here, Em,” Penelope said, patting her on the shoulder.

“Feel better JJ,” she said, backing away, unable to take her eyes off the girl, who looked paler than she’d ever seen her.

“I miss you already,” JJ rasped out, her eyes still closed, curling up on her side and pulling the blankets up over her shoulder.

Emily smiled before leaving the room. She was worried about her but knew Penelope would take better care of JJ than Emily could ever.

———

She and Hotch spent almost five days straight crammed inside a tiny study room in the arts library working on a criminal psych presentation. It was worth almost half their grade.

They had commandeered the tiny room, booking it for the entire block of time each day, and only really leaving it to eat and sleep. At first, their friends would join them, popping in to provide moral support, but as the deadline neared, and Hotch and Emily grew more frantic, their friends mostly left them alone besides for the occasional reminder to take a break.

According to Penelope who periodically texted Emily with updates, JJ spent most of the time sleeping, and having been given time off from soccer and extensions on her school work, Penelope had finally convinced her to focus on recovery.

It was in the library when Emily began to sniffle. It was an annoying nasal drip that tickled her nose and made her feel like she constantly needed to blow her nose.

Unfortunately, she was not the kind of girl who had tissues on her. Emily wasn’t particularly well prepared in that respect. She dug through her backpack only to find a pair of tangled headphones, chapstick and two tampons. She briefly considered sticking those in her nose and calling it a day but thought Hotch would probably pass out at the sight of that.

An hour in, Hotch got so fed up with her constant sniffling that he stole a roll of paper towel from the boys washroom and threw it at her when he returned.

The scratchy paper made her nose sensitive and red. She learned about the redness when Hotch called her “Rudolph” to get her attention.

As the day ticked on, Emily began to feel either too hot, or too cold. She chalked this up to the library’s dodgy heating system and the colder November weather.

After lunch, the sneezing started.

“You’re sick, Prentiss,” Hotch told her.

“No of course not,” Emily said. “I don’t get sick. It’s just allergies.”

“What are you allergic to?”

“Uhh,” Emily looked around, “Dust?”

“Sure.”

Emily was not sick. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Sure, she had spent a lot of time in close proximity to JJ, who was still spending her most time with her face in a bin, but Emily didn’t need this now.

She was certainly aware she had had the exact conversation with JJ, encouraging the other girl to take a break to recover. Emily could talk the talk but couldn’t walk the walk on self care.

When she woke up the next morning. She felt even worse. Her throat was sore, she had a headache and she couldn’t breathe through her nose. Having given JJ all of her cold medicine, she powered through, drinking an endless barrage of hot tea, hoping it would heal her.

She had too much to do.

Days passed with Emily pushing herself to exhaustion, working all day, making it to her extra curricular meetings and only falling asleep during a few of her lectures.

The day of her presentation, Emily’s entire body hurt. She had barely slept the night before, as her sneezing kept her up. She managed to wear a pair of leggings and a sweater, but tied her hair back in a ponytail, too exhausted to do much else.

“You look like shit,” Hotch told her when she showed up to their class, shaking his head.

“Thanks, I feel like it too,” Emily quipped. “I haven’t thrown up yet though, so I count that as a victory.”

In a feat of sheer willpower, Emily made it through her presentation before collapsing into the fold out lecture hall seat, her head laid back, immediately falling asleep and sleeping through the other four group presentations.

After class, Hotch felt her forehead with his hand and announced that she had a fever. He then frog marched her straight to the clinic, pointing out that her hands shook and that she couldn’t do anything without coughing up a storm.

Emily was sure if it was not for his American Law seminar with mandatory attendance, he would be right next to her, ensuring she actually saw a doctor.

“The doctor will call you when it’s your turn dear,” the receptionist told her as she handed Emily’s student card back to her.

Emily nodded and grabbed some hand sanitizer, rubbing the cold liquid over her hands.

She sighed, which turned into a cough that tore through her lungs. She found a spot in the waiting room, under a gigantic poster about STDs. To her left was a small table covered with pamphlets about mental health resources and a big bowl of condoms.

The door to the clinic opened again and Emily shivered. The early November breeze was starting to chill her to the bone. She lifted the hood to her black sweater over her head, hoping to conserve some more heat that way.

Emily glanced at the new patient and was not entirely surprised to see JJ walking towards her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emily said as JJ walked into the waiting room.

“I hear I gave you my plague?” JJ asked, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders.

Emily nodded and coughed.

“Sorry,” JJ sat down next to her.

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked, “You look a lot better than you did.”

“Hotch told me you needed an escort,” JJ said, “And I was in the neighbourhood. He said something about not trusting you to actually go to the doctor’s.”

Emily laughed at that.

“You’re my babysitter?” Emily asked.

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” JJ said with a wink. “I think half of my team is out of commission with this. I’ve never been so sick, I’m glad I’m on the mend.”

Emily nodded, counting the days in her head and realizing that JJ had been out for over a week.

“You look better than you did,” Emily commented.

“Thanks,” JJ said, sarcastically, “At least I’m not puking anymore.”

“I never get sick,” Emily coughed, “I just want something for the cough and I’ll be fine.”

Emily coughed into her elbow, as if reminded.

“How did your presentation go?” JJ asked.

Emily’s heart swelled at the thought that JJ paid attention to her.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Emily said. “I feel really out of it. Hotch marched me straight here after so probably not great.”

“Emily Prentiss?” A nurse called out.

Emily gathered up her things, shot JJ a wave and went into the exam room.

Her doctor, a surly elderly white woman, with greying hair tied back in a low bun, barely looked at her, asking Emily a series of questions.

“What are your symptoms?” she finally asked.

Emily explained how her head cold transformed into something a touch more debilitating, making sure to avoid downplaying her symptoms, because she knew they would take any opportunity to send her home telling her to drink water and rest. Emily did not have time to rest.

The doctor took her vitals, listened to her lungs, grimacing at the sound of them, then took her oxygen, noting them in her chart.

Emily wasn’t a doctor but the face she made at her oxygen levels meant that they were definitely not good.

The sudden onset of chills left her shivering on the examination table as the doctor took notes on her chart.

She checked her phone, smiling as she noticed that she had a notification from the one and only cheetobreath98.

It was a selfie, taken surreptitiously from below in the waiting room, captioned, “plague lookz!”

Emily found herself smiling. A small flame with the number 27 was next to JJ’s name. They had a streak. It was childish, but the visible marker of the fact that they had talked every day for a month, sometimes for hours at a time, sending silly photos back and forth.

“You have a chest cold. Bronchitis. We want to nip it in the bud before it becomes pneumonia,” the doctor said, spinning in her chair to face her. “We see it a lot with students, you all work too hard.”

Emily nodded, not really agreeing with the sentiment, but understanding the feeling behind it. Emily had to work hard.

“Take this inhaler three times daily, at least,” he said, “And any time you’re having difficulty breathing. You can take some acetaminophen for the fever.”

He explained how to use it.

“You cannot drink, smoke or take any recreational drugs on this medication,” he warned.

Emily, who had vowed to not smoke for the duration of her illness anyways, hoping to preserve her fragile lugs, nodded.

“Try honey for the sore throat. Lots of liquids.”

She nodded.

“Come back if you’re not better in a week,” he concluded. “Your prescription will be there for pick up at the pharmacy.”

“Thanks doc,” Emily smiled, taking her leave, placing her mask back on for the hallway.

In the hall she pulled out her phone, opened Snapchat and took a selfie with the waiting room in the background.

“Ya girl’s got bronchitis!!” Emily captioned it, sending it to JJ, as well as Derek and Hotch. They would enjoy her misery.

Immediately Derek texted her.

Derek 🕺: suuuuucks bro. need some soup?

Emily: i’ll be fine but thanks

Emily: i feel like shit. the doctor gave me a puffer lol

Derek🕺: must be bad, I hear they usually just prescribe rest. Your lungs must suck

Emily: typical, id assume they’d be in pristine condition

Derek🕺: 🙄

Derek🕺: you literally smoke cigarettes

Emily laughed at her phone and walked up to the receptionist to fill out the paperwork. The nice woman smiled at her and told her to get well soon.

As JJ met her in the foyer, phone vibrated with another text.

Derek🕺: you coming back to res?

Emily: ya, hotch sent jj to baby sit me

Derek🕺: wasn’t she the one who got you sick? now shes taking care of u

Derek🕺: did u make out or something??

Emily: shut up that was before she was sick

“Get any good drugs?” JJ whispered to her conspiratorially as they walked out together.

Emily laughed louder than she expected, which manifested in wracking coughs between the two girls.

“Actually yeah,” Emily held up the prescription. “Only because you got me sick.”

“Everyone is sick, how can you be sure it was me? Anyways I had the flu, not bronchitis.”

“You’ve been cooped up with Hotch all weekend. Maybe he got you sick.”

“I don’t think Hotch can get sick,” Emily muttered.

They went to the pharmacy together, picking up Emily’s drugs. Emily also added some acetaminophen to her haul, cough drops and a pack of tissues, the kind with moisturizer per JJ’s suggestion.

As Emily waited in line to cash out, swaying a little with the exertion of standing up, JJ left for a second and then returned with a box of tea.

“I’ll make us some,” JJ said, “It’ll heal you.”

Emily felt warm, despite the chill of the store. She wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her growing love for Jennifer Jareau.

Together, they walked to their residence. Once inside, Emily wondered if JJ actually meant it when she offered the tea.

Emily opened her door, tossing her things on her desk. She took her puffer out of the bag, read the instructions before taking a dose, trying to keep the medicine in her lungs as she breathed deep, holding back the coughing.

The sun had started setting earlier and earlier as winter neared, and outside of Emily’s windows, the street lamps turned on.

Emily desperately wanted it to work. She felt like a zombie, exhausted and either too hot or two cold all at once.

She changed into a pair of pyjama pants, a black crewneck sweater with a band logo on the chest, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders, wondering if she should just crawl into bed or if JJ’s offer still stood.

“Em!” JJ called out as she knocked on her door, “Kettle’s boiling.”

Emily’s heart soared. The sentence felt so… domestic. She hurried across the hall, inhaler in hand (just in case), standing hesitantly in the doorway. JJ had changed into grey sweatpants and a soft green hoodie with her gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, looking much comfier than she had.

“Sit down!” JJ encouraged, “If you feel as gross as I do, you’ll need it.”

Emily did, relaxing on JJ’s bed, leaning into the mountain of comfortable pillows and breathing a sigh of relief in not standing any longer. A deep exhaustion had settled into bones, not helped by the long lecture that morning and the clinic visit.

JJ walked over, handing her a mug and sitting on the bed next to her, taking a sip of her own mug.

It was the same tea as before, sleepy time, with the warm combination of chamomile, mint, and other fruity tastes greeting her like a hug. She clutched it with two hands, enjoying how the mug radiated heat and warmed her chilly fingers.

“Thank you,” Emily managed, her voice sounding a bit less scratchy to her ears than before.

“Any time,” JJ replied, “It’s nice to have company.”

Emily looked away, suddenly feeling shy. Should she stay? Was she welcome to hang out? Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay, she didn’t want JJ to see how gross she was with her messy hair, stuffy nose and endless sneezing.

JJ clearly looked better than she did earlier that week, Emily taking her place as token invalid in residence.

“I was going to watch tv,” JJ said, “I don’t think I could handle doing homework right now.”

“Oh I’ll go,” Emily said, taking the hint and moving to climb off the bed. JJ’s arm stuck out, grabbing her shoulder and stopping her.

“No, Em,” JJ said, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me. ”

Oh. Emily felt her face break into a smile. She relaxed into the bed as JJ grabbed her laptop and set it between them, she pulled a fluffy sky-blue blanket, and draped it over her legs, then over Emily’s.

There was the noise of keys in the door, Emily felt herself pull away from JJ, leaning away from her friend as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

Penelope Garcia opened the door, followed shortly after by Derek Morgan who was carrying two large take out bowls of soup.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Derek said, handing each of them a bowl.

“How are my two sick dears?” Penelope cooed, as she collected a textbook from her desk.

Emily tried to speak, coughing instead, and JJ reached out to steady her bowl, knowing that she would spill if she wasn’t careful.

She decided not to acknowledge Derek's comment because even Emily didn’t know she would be in JJ’s room, how could he?

“Just about as bad as you would expect,” JJ said.

Emily nodded, recovering from her fit.

“We won’t keep you!” Penelope replied, “we have a study date! Enjoy your movie night. Don’t forget to text me if either of you need anything tonight. I’ll be back late.”

Penelope looked at them and frowned.

“I may quarantine away from you, I do not want to catch that.”

“Get some sleep, guys” Derek said. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Emily said, thick with sarcasm.

“Toodles!” Penelope said as they left.

The door shut, and the two girls began to sip the soup. It was chicken noodle and had cooled to the perfect temperature.

“What do you wanna watch?” JJ asked between spoonfuls.

Emily thought about her comfort tv and movies: The X Files. Or Star Trek: The Voyage Home (the one with the whales, exclusively, because she finds it silly and always makes her feel better). They were so nerdy. She couldn’t look JJ in the eye and reveal how much of a nerd she was.

“I’m not sure,” she said instead, “Did you have something in mind?”

“I usually watch cooking shows,” JJ said, “To be honest. Or Gilmore Girls, Parks and Rec, or-”

JJ stopped herself.

“Or what?” Emily prodded.

“Twilight ,” JJ admitted.

Emily laughed.

“I haven’t seen it,” Emily commented, “I missed that phase I guess.”

“Oh you have to,” JJ said, getting excited, “It’s fantastic. And bad. It’s both at once. I was team Edward.”

Emily knew that was the vampire; she didn’t live under a rock, she just hadn’t actually seen the films.

JJ began to babble, between coughs, about how as a kid she read each book as they came out, and even had a poster of the cast on her wall. Emily simply basked in her company and the excitement of watching something she cared about.

Emily found herself cuddled up next to JJ, eating their soup and watching Twilight .

Between the warmth of JJ’s bed, the soothing soup and finally relaxing, Emily suddenly felt slightly better. Maybe taking a break to recover was actually a good thing.

Emily almost laughed at the thought that it only took a case of bronchitis to get her in JJ’s bed.

As the movie wore on, Emily’s exhaustion, and full stomach overtook her. The two girls wrapped in a blanket made it quickly warm and comforting, and as Bella discovered that Edward was a vampire, Emily felt her eyelids drooping.

She tried to fight the feeling, but soon, Emily was fast asleep next to JJ.

———

Emily woke up, hours later, in the dark with another blanket wrapped around her, JJ’s laptop nowhere in sight and no memory of anything she had just watched.

JJ was curled up into her side and was snoring quietly.

Emily stiffened, at the reality of her current situation. She needed to relax or she would wake JJ up. Her back was to the wall, and JJ’s prone body blocked her exit.

Her mind moved a mile a minute. JJ must’ve put away the laptop and given her another blanket, chosen not to wake Emily up. She wanted to sleep in the same bed.

What did this mean? Did JJ want to sleep next to her? Did JJ like her?

She thought hard about this, but she knew there was no way this was romantic . This must just be how close, female friendships went. Emily’s feelings for JJ were clouding her judgment.

Emily was never invited to sleepovers, or had any close girl friends before, this is probably just what she was missing out on.

God, she thought, maybe it’s good that nobody liked me. I would have caught feelings and made it weird. Just like I’m doing right now.

Emily examined JJ’s face, which was only inches from her own. Gazing at each freckle, her long light brown eyelashes, her perfect eyebrows. Her pink lips were slightly parted, brealths coming out softly.

JJ shifted closer, as she, in her sleep, was probably moving toward Emily’s warmth unconsciously.

Emily closed her eyes and basked in that moment.

Before she knew it, JJ rolled around onto her other side, and Emily was left staring at the back of her blonde head.

Missing the warmth, Emily tugged the blanket further around her shoulders.

Emily looked around JJ’s darkened room, at the empty bed across the room. Penelope, true to her word, was elsewhere. For a second, Emily wondered whose bed she was sleeping in, but the strong urge to cough overtook her, distracting her from that train of thought.

She rolled onto her back, coughing into her elbow, trying to stifle them so that she did not wake JJ. Unfortunately, the coughs kept coming, and Emily found herself struggling to breathe. She sat up, and before she knew what was happening, JJ was awake and sitting next to her with a comforting hand on her back, and Emily’s inhaler in hand.

“Hey you’re ok,” JJ whispered, running her hand up and down her back, “It’s ok baby.”

Emily tried to catch her breath, taking her medicine and trying to hold it into her lungs, before coughing again. Her entire body shook with them, and it brought forth the aching that permeated her entire entire body.

The coughs slowed, and she fell back into JJ, whose arms wrapped around her as she made soothing noises.

“You ok?” JJ asked, her own voice still sounding a bit hoarse.

Emily nodded, whimpering, and JJ handed her a water bottle. Emily thought for a second before taking it, knowing that she had already caught JJ’s sickness anyways.

JJ’s strong arms wrapped around her, supporting her limp frame as she drank water and calmed back down, before moving away to let Emily lay back down.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” JJ said, “You were out halfway through the first movie and I knew you definitely needed the rest.”

Emily nodded, bracing for JJ to ask her to leave, but that didn’t come.

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked.

“Better,” Emily croaked. “My lungs still hurt.”

“Do you still have a fever?” JJ asked, moving her hand to feel Emily’s forehead.

Emily closed her eyes at the gentle touch.

“You’re hot,” JJ said, tutting at ther.

“Don’t you know it, babe,” Emily said, without thinking.

Her eyes shot open, and she began to stutter, trying to backtrack what she said. JJ began to laugh.

“Miss Prentiss is cocky when she’s feverish,” JJ said, grinning at her.

Emily felt herself blush, but hoped JJ would take that as her fever and not her embarrassment.

“It’s late, Em,” JJ said, “Go back to sleep.”

There it was. An invitation to continue sharing her bed. Emily relaxed, closing her eyes.

This time, she didn’t quickly fall asleep, finding herself feeling tense in JJ’s bed, not wanting to do anything that would be seen as suspicious.

Was she lying too close? Was she moving too much? Was she allowed to cuddle up to JJ? Did girls cuddle with each other?

Over Thanksgiving weekend last year, when she visited the Morgans with Derek, she and he shared his childhood bed. It was not like this, with the two of them fighting for blankets, kicking each other, and grumbling like siblings. Then, Emily didn’t feel this fluttering in her stomach or the desire to sniff the other persons hair. Well, Derek barely had any hair to sniff.

Emily forced herself to relax, to take as deep breaths as her lungs could manage and to try to fall back asleep.

Some time passed, with Emily breathing slightly congested breaths in and out, as JJ tossed and turned a bit, moving around to get comfortable.

Emily faded in and out of consciousness, right on the verge of sleep when movement on the bed told her that JJ had rolled again, and was now facing her. She could sense that JJ was looking at her, but didn’t open her eyes to confirm, still verging on sleep.

She must have assumed that Emily was fast asleep, because the other girl turned to face Emily, and did something that Emily didn’t expect, nor knew exactly what to do with.

JJ had kissed Emily’s forehead, softly, and Emily’s sleep deprived, feverish brain was not sure if it had actually happened, or if she had hallucinated.

It took everything in Emily to not react, forcing her eyes closed and her body still, keeping her breathing steady. then rolled onto her side as if nothing had happened.

Emily didn’t have the capacity to process the kiss, or the rush of emotions it conjured, so she decided that it was simply a figment of her imagination.

Both girls fell asleep shortly after.

———

The second time Emily woke in JJ’s bed, the sun was up and the room was bathed in golden light. Emily felt warm and safe, and compared to the previous day, her body wasn’t aching as much. Emily opened her eyes and found that she was not only laying face to face with a sleeping JJ, but their limbs were tangled, as both of them had apparently decided to cuddle the other in their sleep.

Emily’s legs were wrapped up in JJ’s, her right leg between JJ’s, and the blonde’s arm was thrown casually around Emily’s shoulder, holding her close.

This time, Emily didn’t panic, and relished the embrace of JJ. She knew that she wasn’t likely to get a chance to be this close to her again, without the excuse of a fever, so she wasn’t going to ruin it.

Despite her best efforts, JJ’s eyes blinked open, as if sensing that Emily was awake.

Emily pulled away, yawning, attempting to untangle their limbs.

“Why hello there,” JJ whispered, giggling at her.

“Hi,” Emily whispered, smiling back at JJ.

“You look a lot better,” JJ commented, reaching out and fixing Emily’s bangs for her.

“I feel better,” she said, “Less like I’m on the verge of death.”

“We can’t have you dying, Em,” she replied, “Who else would I cuddle with?”

Emily smiled at her.

JJ sat up, stretching, revealing a slip of her lower back as the hem of her sweater rose above her waist. Emily did the same, sitting crossed legged in her bed, still wrapped in blankets despite the warmth of the room. JJ was lucky and her bed was near the radiator, keeping them toasty warm despite the chilled fall air.

Emily peeked outside, watching fall leaves fly through the sky, patterning the courtyard with a blanket of leaves. JJ stood, put on her slippers, and took a drink of water, before offering it to Emily.

Taking the water bottle, Emily sipped it awkwardly, completely unsure what to do with herself. All her experiences being in someone else’s bed had usually also involved her leaving quickly after, or at least in the morning before the other woke up. Now, Emily was watching JJ fuss with her hair in the mirror in the golden light of day.

“I’m starving,” JJ said, “What time is it?”

Emily grabbed JJ’s phone, seeing the time. It was 6:30am, long before she ever normally woke up. She must have fallen asleep earlier than she thought.

“Cafs aren’t open yet,” Emily said, “It’s only 6:30.”

“Do you like omelettes?” JJ asked.

———

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was seated in the tiny dorm kitchen at the end of their floor, wrapped in a blanket, with another steaming cup of tea in her hands, watching JJ flip an omelette in a pan.

Apparently JJ is one of the few people to use the kitchen—besides Emily and her cookies—to use the kitchen for more than instant noodles and pizza pockets.

She had eggs in the fridge, and diced frozen vegetables in the freezer, and quickly whipped up a delicious breakfast for the two of them in minutes, chatting the entire time.

“Oooh,” JJ said as she pulled out her carton of eggs, “I should get some apple cider. Someone’s got a massive jug in here and I’m dying for some.”

“I’ve never liked apple cider,” Emily said, taking a gulp of her tea.

The hot tea—and her doctor prescribed medicine—was clearing her sinuses and Emily felt like she was breathing fully for the first time in days.

“That’s impossible,” JJ said, matter-of-factly, as she cracked an egg into a bowl. “It’s the best thing ever.”

Emily shrugged, “I’ve only had it once and it wasn’t that good.”

“If I wasn’t a good person, I would steal this person’s cider and make you try it,” JJ said, gesturing with a spatula.

JJ turned and busied herself with adding the veggies to the pan, sautéing them in butter and some seasoning.

“We should go to the fair, together,” JJ blurted, “I mean. All of us.”

“I’ve also never been to a fair,” Emily said with another shrug. “I have to remind you that I’ve barely lived in the US, and when I did, I was trapped in stuffy private schools.”

JJ gave her a look that, if it was from anyone else, would look pitying.

“It’s decided,” JJ said, plopping the omelette onto Emily’s plate. “When you feel better, we’re going to the fair.”

“It’s a date.”

81 notes · View notes

edelwoodsouls · 4 years

Text

all roads lead - ch.2

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 2,065 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 3, 4, 5,

Chapter 2: BOOKS

The bus drops them on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, and as it retreats back down the forest-hemmed road Stiles feels a desperate urge to run after it and beg the driver to take him back to New York.

Instead he swallows the fear that beats like his heart in his throat, and turns to face the sign in front of them, which reads Welcome to Beacon Hills, Please enjoy your stay in large, rust-marred letters.

Past that is the road into town, crowded by dense trees which tower into the sky on both sides. Stiles used to feel so at home in the woods, with their hushed magic and teeming life hidden just below the surface. But these woods are menacing, oppressively quiet but far from silent. These trees are old, centuries of memories imprinted in the whispers of their leaves and cracks in their bark.

"We've come this far." Malia's voice is like a shot in the quiet, cold air, snapping Stiles from his thoughts.

"I don't think we thought this through." Stiles replies. He's right, of course. It's only been four days since Malia stumbled across the article which mentions his dad - the sheriff of Beacon Hills closing yet another thought-unsolvable case only a handful of weeks ago - while she was searching for any remaining members of Peter's elusive family, or a trace of her mysterious mother. They packed light, buying a ticket on the first bus to California that very night.

He has no idea what he's doing. What could he possibly say to explain the last nine years to the father whose death he mourned almost a decade ago? How can he face what Stiles running away so soon after losing Claudia must have done to him?

"We can't turn back now." Malia sounds so sure of herself, so without doubt - it's a trait Stiles has always been jealous of, now more than ever. "And besides, we need to tell the Hales that Peter is dead."

"Pretty sure they already thought he was." Stiles snorts derisively despite himself. "Either that or they'll be glad to hear the news. There's a reason he refused to talk about them."

"Well then I want to meet them and punch them in the face."

"Sounds like a plan," Stiles concedes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he squeezes Malia's hand.

"Let's go then." She shoves him playfully, and he promptly trips over his own feet, landing with a thud beside his rucksack. "How can you be a big, bad alpha werewolf and still be clumsy?"

"Guess I'm just talented that way."

"It's a very impressive talent."

He takes a mock bow as he stands. "Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week."

Malia rolls her eyes and starts walking towards the town, leaving him to scoop up his bag and scramble after her.

~~~

Half an hour later finds them standing in the library in the centre of town. It's small, considering it's the only one in the entire town - low roofed and darkly lit, shelves stretching as far as the eye can see.

This would be Peter's idea of heaven. Stiles can imagine him - a less broken, teenage version of him - curling up behind the stacks, going through book after book, determined to read the whole damn library.

Even the smell, of old books and ink, reminds him of Peter.

Stiles blinks rapidly and forces himself to focus on the task at hand: research.

He's always been able to trust in 2AM internet spirals to find any information he desires - his aversion to Peter's dusty old tomes of lore is one of the things they argued over most - but of course these things can never be that simple. The Hale fire is a thing of mystery, its details buried under confusion and wrapped in conspiracy - almost as if someone went to great lengths to obscure the facts.

He wouldn't be surprised if that someone had been Peter. Know thy enemy, he would always say, a favourite refrain heavy with the weight of experience. What better way to fight an enemy than to make yourself unknowable?

They don't even know how many people died in the fire, how many survived. How long Peter's excruciating coma lasted. How he ended up stumbling across Stiles, sweeping him and Malia up in a whirwind of pack and safety and home. It wasn't something Peter prefered to dwell on, and even Malia never pushed.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the bank of admittedly ancient computers, turning regretfully to the newspaper archives, and gets to work.

It takes far longer than he'd like. His attention span has never been a trusted thing, either flitting between things like a bird or doubling down on one and letting the world fall away. As a wolf the impatience, the frustration, only grows.

What little he knows about the Hales is information he's collected, hoarded like gold in the tiny morsels he's been able to gather along with any information about Beacon Hills. The Hale family, a long line of wolves settled in Northen California. Settled there for a reason, the grapevine insists, though none can remember why. Power. Magic. It alls boils down to those two inextricable things, in Stiles' experience.

And then came January, 2005. The Wolf Moon. A family gathering gone awfully, terribly wrong. He finds, buried, in the wrong box, the newspaper for the day after. Electrical fire, the headline claims, though it is too soon after the incident for such a judgement to have been made. Eleven dead - the number burns into his eyes, and for a moment he's lost in imagining it, those last moments, the smell of ash on the wind. He feels sick.

Finally, he finds two names: Laura and Derek Hale, Peter's niece and nephew. The only other survivors of the fire. A passing mention in a middle page column announces them leaving Beacon Hills.

Leaving Peter.

A sudden flush of anger takes Stiles by surprise. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to hide his flickering irises.

They left him. Alone, in agony, paralysed, and they fled, tearing away the one thing which might aid his healing. The warmth of pack, of family, replaced only by the burning memories of a house and life ablaze.

He'd known the story was bad, but still. Stiles feels sick, imagining how awful those months must have been. He feels hollow enough with one burnt and broken pack bond, cold in a way no fire could warm - but he has Malia, and her connection burns inside him, a guiding lantern in the dark, softening the edge.

Peter had a pack of thirteen reduced to two in an instant. And then those two lights had wandered far into the dark where even their glow would be useless.

No wonder he'd been so broken. No wonder he'd clung to Malia, to Stiles, like lifelines that might vanish like so much smoke.

Malia wanders over to his desk and seats herself on top of the table, ignoring the poisonous look the librarian gives her. "You're spiraling," she says shortly.

He pushes the newspaper article towards her. She wrinkles her nose - he's sure she would rather put her own arm in a vat of acid before having to read - but nonetheless skims over the words, a frown settling between her brows.

"Nothing we didn't already know," she says eventually, with a nochalance he knows is fake. Malia doesn't understand a lot about social cues or human interaction, but pack loyalty holds a close place in her heart. Shot at for most of her younger years by hunters, chased by other creatures in the Beacon Hills Preserve, abandoned by her own father for being too animal, too inhuman - the only safe haven she's ever known is Peter and Stiles. Her pack, always there, without question or demand.

Stiles sighs and nods, leaning to rest his forehead on her knee. She combs her fingers absently through his hair, and the gesture settles something inside him.

He's so tired. So lost. He feels as if he hasn't stopped moving, thinking, panicking in years. Was it really only weeks ago that he'd made a deal with the devil, let a fox crawl into his skin to save his pack, only for it to make a home there, to lead to that pack's very decimation?

And you'd do it again, he thinks, and he can't tell if the voice is a lingering other or his own. But he knows it's true. Better a quick and bloody death from the claws of mindless trickery than a slow and excruciating torture at the hands of hunters.

He wants to curl into a ball in the woods and never move again, but he forces himself to look up at his beta, his best friend, his sister. They've picked a direction to move, and until they can find steady ground again, it seems easiest to simply follow.

"Where to?" Malia asks, sensing his thoughts. Sometimes he wonders whether their pack bonds share more than connection, emotion, warmth. Then again, Malia knows his scent, knows his mind, perhaps better than she knows her own - as does he for her. They are in tune in a way deeper than words can surmise.

"The Hale house," he says slowly, "...or my dad's."

"Charred ruins and a possibly hostile pack of werewolves, or the grieving father you abandoned to alcoholism. Tough choice."

"You really know how to put sparkles on everything," he snipes. She tugs his hair almost painfully in response.

He weighs the options in his head for a moment, makes a show of thinking, but his heart has already decided. "My dad," he says. "He might be able to tell us what we need to know about the town. Give us the history, the inside track."

"And he isn't supernatural," Malia reads between the lines like they're the whole goddamn book.

"Yeah," Stiles admits.

He's had enough of the supernatural for a lifetime.

~~~

Unfortunately, life can never be that simple, and things have changed in the almost-decade Stiles has been gone. He knocks on the door of his old house, ignoring the ghosts of a buried past which curl around him. He doesn't dare wander directly into the sheriff's office, isn't sure how he'd handle that many guns and the overwhelming smell of death; only now, facing this monument of his buried regrets, he's not sure that's any worse-

The door swings open, and he finds himself face to face with a girl around his own age, all angles and dark hair.

She smells sharply of wolfsbane and iron.

He flinches back in surprise.. "You're not the sheriff."

"Last time I checked, yeah," the girl laughs. It's a nice sound, entirely at odds with the scent of violence on the air. "I'm Allison. My family moved here last year- this used to be the sheriff's house, though. Are you looking for him?"

Words fail Stiles entirely. Everything here is so wrong, on so many levels.

"We are," Malia steps in smoothly. "Could you tell us where to find him?"

"Have you tried the sheriff's station?"

Malia gives her such a deadpan glare even Stiles would cower under its full intensity. He's impressed by how long the girl - Allison - lasts before wilting, scrawling an address onto a post-it note and handing it over with a bashful smile.

He's never seen such an effective wolf in sheep's clothing.

Except perhaps himself.

He nods wordlessly at her, not trusting himself to speak, but as they turn to leave Allison speaks out. "What do you want with Stilinski anyway?" Her tone tries to sound benignly curious, but there's an edge to her voice, a personal concern that strikes him as odd.

Stiles pauses a moment before answering. "I owe him something, and I'm here to pay my debts."

The words are more true than he'd like to admit in their vagueness. He has no idea what he'll say, what he'll do, what he wants, he just knows that the path leads to his father, and that's where he has to follow. To talk. To explain. To fight. To apologise.

Something.

Nevertheless, the words have the desired effect - he tastes Allison's suspicion on the air and smiles, grabbing Malia's hand and walking away.

He's always loved courting danger a little too much.

#fanfiction #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #malia tate #allison argent #own work #morgan writes

5 notes · View notes

burning-up-a-sun · 4 years

Text

Hospital Gardens

Pairing: Richard x Francis (A Secret History)

Word Count: 3270.

Warnings: TW suicide mentions. Otherwise just general angst?

On the third day of my stay in Boston, the rain finally let up. In it's place, the sky was a concrete grey, littered with a careless spread of nonthreatening cloud, and the flowerbeds which surrounded the Brigham and Women's Hospital was thick with mud.

I found Francis sitting by the small window of his room on the first floor, looking out onto the gardens beneath. I had walked through them on the way in - they were pretty, in a neat and orderly sort of way, something Francis never liked. He was chaos in human form, the cold exterior of an intellectual but on the inside there was a hurricane of disorder and emotion such as he would never admit. It was beautiful in the way that a volcanic eruption is beautiful when seen from far away. The beauty of danger when you are not susceptible to it, of another's pain that you can never share.

"Richard, you're back." he seemed to say it more as a statement, something that he already knew and had had no doubt about, which was probably a reasonable reaction seeing as I had visited twice a day without fail. It was inexplicable, that invisible force which pulled me to his bedside, to the grim, unchanging scene that I had seen before and knew I would have time to see again. When I really thought about it, there was no question about me going away; it seemed the most certain thing that I had ever known, that I would stay here with him for as long as he would have me, for there was no other place for me to go. It was as though the rest of the world had fallen away with the letter he had sent, and only this room and this sick, unfamiliar man remained. These sick, unfamiliar men.

"The rain's cleared up,"

"So it has," he murmured, lifting his face to look up to the dull grey sky and smiling as though that wan sun which shone upon his gaunt face were some forgiving goddess, the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.

"I thought maybe we could go for a walk, if you felt up to it. Talk a little,"

"What is there to possibly talk about. You know, the world seemed to stop turning entirely when you went away," he looked down again, his smile growing wistful and elusive, and it was clear that he would not tell me what he meant by this.

"And yet so much has changed." I made a sweeping gesture at the hospital room and his expression grew clearer and sadder, as though this blissful fantasy of his had been shattered, and the cruel blade of reality come rushing in to fill the wound it had left behind.

"Oh, this? This is just... was just... It's over now, Richard. That's all that matters. You're here again,"

But even as he said it he sounded unconvinced, as though he was speaking to himself instead, spinning still more of his empty promises.

"Let's go for a walk, yes, that sounds splendid," he spoke quickly, rising to his feet and looking around the room in increasing discontent for a coat which was not there. I shrugged off my own and held it out to him, and he pulled it on without a word. The silence was thick with his lack of commentary about my own lack of style, and I thought I rather missed it. This was not the man I knew. But then again, I was not the man I knew three years ago, either, nor indeed the man I could say I knew now.

We made our way down the sterile corridors, Francis gripping my arm tightly with shaking fingertips, and into the large metal elevator at one end. Standing in the elevator, I glanced over at Francis' reflection in the polished metal sides. He seemed shorter than I remembered, shrunken and out of place in his ill-fitting hospital clothes. Gone was the extravagant scholar that I remembered, and in it's place a quiet, weakened figure, almost pathetic in his vulnerability. And yet his mind seemed still to be his own, his speech indicative of the same startling intellect, only now hidden away and kept silent. He seemed unhappy, in a way that no one could cure.

Stepping out of the elevator and through the glass back doors of the hospital, we were met with a rush of wind which chilled me to the bone and prompted Francis to pull the coat tighter against his chest. It was strange, seeing him in my clothes, and my mind was filled with the memory of a night so many years ago, when he had kissed me and there had been no part of me that had wanted him to stop. I wondered if that had changed at all by now, reassured myself that it had, knew that it had not.

We walked in silence for a minute or so. Then, as we were nearing the edge of the garden, where the ivy climbed in glossy green spiderwebs up the worn stone walls, he stopped and, resting his hand lightly on my arm, gestured for me to stop too.

"Why are you here,"

"You sent me that letter. I thought you were dead."

"Why are you really here, Richard,"

"I... I have no idea." I admitted, looking down at the ground by my shoes. A few tangled daisies wound up through the mud and soaked grass, and I realised that Francis was barefoot. He walked as though he had not realised this, and I could not bring myself to tell him. He had all the insincere confidence of a sick man who is convinced that he is better.

Lifting my head after a moment to look at him, I was met with those sparkling green eyes, the eyes that I had fallen in love with three years ago. No. The eyes that I had envied, in a very heterosexual way.

"It's as you said, I fear. Everything has changed so irrevocably, yet still you and I are snatching at the strands of the past. Quite poetic, isn't it?" his voice had grown low and quiet, his words slipping back into that customary tangle of poetry and prose that I had so long associated with Francis, with home. Something about this return of the man I once knew seemed to ease my mind a little.

"I heard from Charles and Camilla the other day, actually. They sent their condolences to my family. I suppose they don't know yet that I survived. I can't quite bring myself to tell them - they sounded so happy when they wrote. I suppose one should be, when one's deep dark secret was drawn still further from the light of day. Another mouth sealed, that's what's important."

"You're what's important, Francis,"

"Always so sweet, Richard. You know, I think you love me more than my wife does. Poor Priscilla, I feel I am too hard on her. She's sweet, she really is, and she means well, only she's so dreadfully vapid. It rather makes me want to kill myself, trying to hold a meaningful conversation with her."

"I was wondering what on earth had made you fall in love with her, of all people. I thought you might still be ill," I teased, but Francis flinched and his eyes clouded over with pain.

"I didn't fall in love with her." he spoke softly, sadly, and behind his words there was a meaning which I could not quite grasp, but which seemed in that moment the most important thing in the world.

"But I thought you were going to marry her?"

"I am, and that's exactly the problem."

"Francis, what are you doing?"

But the man who walked beside me seemed no longer to be Francis at all. When I turned my head to look at him, all I was met with was the worn, pathetic frame of a man who had had it all and thrown it all away. In his eyes there was an expression that I had seen before, in the fleeting glimpses of Henry's body as it fell lifeless to the floor. It was as though he was already dead.

"What I have to do, Richard. To tell the truth, I'm just facing the consequences of mistakes I made long ago. I fell in love, and that will be the death of me."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I told myself that I was simply surprised. Francis had never been the sort of person to fall in love. He had that easy tenderness that can never be found in one who saves their heart for loving one person. I thought he might possibly be lying, and part of me didn't want to know who this chosen person was, still the rush of intrigue had wrapped around my chest and pulled tight, and I knew I had no choice.

"Who?"

"I think you might already know," the corner of his mouth quirked up in an elusive smile, and I fell quiet, trying to place a face on this shadowy figure. Charles? Probably not. Camilla? Due to obvious reasons, this was extremely unlikely. Henry? The two had always seemed to respect each other, beneath the customary mask of indifference, but it had never seemed anything more than platonic. Bunny? I almost laughed. If he had loved Bunny, he would likely not have helped to kill him.

That left only me.

"The past is never lost entirely, Francis."

"Isn't it? Even now, I am resigned to the fact that I shall probably spend the rest of my life locked up in some country mansion with a vapid wife and far too many vapid children. I had my chance at happiness, and I wasted it on a man who never noticed how I felt." He laughed bitterly, and above him the sun passed behind a cloud, shrouding the garden in a veil of blue and grey.

Francis began to walk away, back towards the hospital, but I gripped his arm tighter.

"Francis, wait," I called half-heartedly, and he stopped but did not turn.

"No, it's my fault, I shouldn't have called you here. I've wasted your time, I see that now. You can leave now, I think I'm almost better." a raindrop fell upon his tousled red hair, then another and another, until the rain was coming at a gentle, steady pace. And then, at last, he turned his head to face me, water running down his cheeks and cutting through the smooth, pale skin. "I'll give your love to Priscilla."

"Or you could keep it all for yourself. I wish you would, it's why I'm here, after all." I shrugged hopelessly, rain running down the back of my neck in warm, languid rivulets.

"Richard,"

"Francis."

Not entirely sure what I was doing, or why my heart was burning fervently inside a chest that was too tight for me to breathe properly, I followed him. I stopped only inches away from him, close enough to feel his ragged breaths. Leaning in, our foreheads resting against each other, the raindrops falling down our faces and the tear drops from his glistening eyes merged into one winding river down my shirt. Francis reached up a hand tentatively, the cotton bandage at the wrist brushing against my cheek, tracing the line of my cheek-bone with shaking fingertips.

Around us, the rain grew heavier, falling in slanting sheets of shattered silver upon the blurred garden where by now there was no one to be seen. But my eyes never left his, gazing up in rapture that I had not known I had inside of me.

And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he bridged the gap between us. His lips met mine and the world was white, and simple as though there was nothing in it but us. It was strange - the last time I had seen him I had been so sure that I knew everything, and only now was I realising that in truth I knew nothing at all. In my mind I chased the words for what it was I was feeling, and never quite caught up. This was not love, and yet I had no desire to move away. And in this way we remained for an eternity of seconds, and when at last he pulled away to breathe, my eyes stayed closed, lingering on the threshold of that unattainable bliss.

"Francis," I whispered breathlessly, as much to myself as to him.

"You can't stay,"

"Can't I?"

"Richard, I..." but already he was stepping back, away from me, his voice breaking and his eyes filled with pain.

"Come back to Brooklyn with me, Francis please. Run away with me, let's disgrace your family,"

"You know I love you,"

"Then come with me. Don't do this again. It doesn't have to be that way again," I was pleading now, gripping his hands between my own like he was the final lifeline I had to that glorious past which had so long seemed lost. I knew it was hopeless; the dreams of only a moment ago had been shattered irreparably, and I was left standing in the ruins of this grim reality.

"It does... Oh, Richard, I wish..."

But behind the raindrops which were pouring down my face, the tears were beginning to pour. And there he stood before me, white hospital clothes clinging to pale skin and the bandages on his wrists dripping water. Translucent from the water, I could see the outlines of two mismatched scars showing through the fabric, and my heart ached to see this, the man I loved, so utterly destroyed. After everything, after coming so far just to see him, after trying so hard to find in him the old Francis, my Francis, I was only now beginning to see that he was not there at all. Behind those emerald eyes, the ghost of the man I once knew was fast disappearing, swallowed up by the pathetic man in front of me. It was enough to make me cry.

There comes a point in every childhood where you must concede the childish trait of crying and screaming until you get your way, and take up in its place the adult acceptance that you must let it pass you by for another to keep. As I stood looking on at Francis, this realisation struck me with all the comfort of a poisoned dagger. He was not mine, and never would be, for in the end we were just boys playing House, and soon one of us must find a wife.

And so I forced myself to fake a weak smile, and let his hands drop heavily to his sides.

"It's okay,"

"It's not okay. It'll never be okay,"

"No, but that is the way all good things must be. Francis, I understand now, and I... I wish you the best. You deserve the best,"

"I deserve you, and that is all I could ever ask for. Richard, I wish... You know, before this week I was so sure that I could do this. I thought maybe if I never heard from you again, just maybe I could learn to be content with her. I was wrong. We both were. She deserves better than me, because now I know for sure that I can never love her quite as I loved you." His voice cracked, thick with emotion, and it took all the strength I had within me to keep up my smile, to rest my hand on his back and tell him that he would in time. To tell him that perhaps it would be better if I left now, and if we never saw each other again. The pain was worse than anything that I had ever felt before, and all I could think of was how cruel it was. To give me a glimpse of a love I had never thought possible, to show me a universe of joy and certainty, and then to steal it all away again. To leave me face to face with the only thing I wanted, and the only thing I knew I could never have.

It was only later, as I left the hospital room and stood with my forehead pressed against the cold white tiles of the corridor wall, eyes squeezed shut to hold back tears that were no longer there, that I heard him cry at last. And that was all that I could take. I wanted nothing more than to run back to him, to hold him in my arms and promise him that I would never leave. Instead I lifted my head and walked away, back through the front door of the hospital, back to the neat row of yellow taxi cabs at the curb.

Sitting alone in the backseat of the cab, I watched the hospital retreat behind me, and with it the stain of wet red hair watching from the upstairs window.

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was only in the glacial winter that came four years later that, sitting among the precarious piles of paperwork stacked up on my desk and sorting the letters that had come in the mail that morning, that I saw again that familiar handwriting. Running my fingers over the sharp, stiff edges of the envelope, I was half-tempted to put it back, or to burn it. Either way, I knew deep down that this was news that I did not want to know.

Staring down at the spidery handwriting and the faint outline of a hospital logo on the paper, my heart was heavy, my eyes dry. I would not cry; there was a time when I might have, but that had long since passed. Instead I peeled open the envelope with leaden fingers and drew out the letter inside. I held it close to my chest, closed my eyes and took a deep breath in and then out again. Every fibre in my body screamed at me to put it back, to get up and walk away and life as though it had never come at all, but even then I knew there was no other way.

I almost hated myself. For letting my guard down, for falling in love with this quixotic whirlwind of a man. For going to see him, for meeting him at all, for being the sort of person who falls so hopelessly in love with all the things that time can touch.

And in those cold black letters, I hated him too, and all his broken promises.

No adjectives, no promises in those melancholy words. The eloquence that I had been so unnerved to recognise in the letter that had come so many years before was gone. The Francis I knew was gone.

My head dropped, hit the desk, sending paper whirling through the air as I pressed my face into one hand, and with the other crumpled the sheet of paper into a ball. Threw it across the room, eyes burning with anger and, behind it, a sadness as though all of my life had fallen away before it. I wanted to break something, to scream so that all of the city could hear me and feel it too, but I could not breathe, could not move, could not speak.

"Francis," my voice came out a hoarse whisper, as I traced the spidery handwriting on the envelope with a trembling fingertip.

"There was no other way."

#richard papen #francis abernathy #a secret history #donna tartt #fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

smkkbert · 5 years

Text

Mothers know best

Summary: Since they have been kids, they have been best friends. Since they have been friends, their mothers wanted them to be together. After coming back from the east coast, Felicity takes over a position at Queen Consolidated, the company her best friend will soon take over from his father. Their mothers still push for them to be together, and they seem closer to that goal than ever because wedding bells are ringing. The only problem is that they both plan to get married to someone else.

Rating: Explicit

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Chapter 20 of 22: Ya’aburnee

= The desire to die before another person because of how unbearable it would be to learn of their death (Arabic)

“Are you coming, or what?”

With held breath and wildly beating heart, Oliver watched Felicity as she had almost reached the top of the ladder. Since she had run towards the ladder and started climbing it like they were still six years old and had no fear of falling or anything really, he had been holding his breath and just waited for her to reach the end of the ladder safely. He was sure that, once she had reached the small front porch of their tree house, he would relax a little more. Well, or at least he hoped so.

“I am just waiting here until you have gotten onto safe ground.”

Instead of continuing to climb up the ladder, Felicity stilled which really didn’t help Oliver to relay at all. She angled her head back over her shoulder and looked at him. Her smile was almost a little mocking, and she let one of her hands go of the ladder, leaning back instead. Oliver knew that she was just doing so to tease him, and he tried his best not to make her see how much it affected him. He doubted that he was successful though.

Really?” she asked, perking up a doubtful eyebrow. “There was a time that you couldn’t wait to chase after me to see who would make it up here first. I think you almost threw me down the ladder years ago.”

“Possibly.”

Oliver’s reply was elusive although he remembered the incident clearly. He had come quite close to throwing Felicity off the ladder by accident. He had wanted to get to their treehouse before her, so he had wanted to pass her in the middle of the ladder by just climbing through her. His movements had almost made her slip and fall don several feet onto the ground though, so he had never intended of trying it again.

“What, you are really just going to stand there and wait for me to arrive at the top?”

Oliver puckered his lips. He could hear that she was trying to challenge him as challenging had always been half of what their friendship had been about. They had challenged each other to do the stupidest things, just so they could tease each other with it. It had always been a lot of fun. He couldn’t deny that there were much more important things to him now that she was his wife and carrying their baby though,

“Hey, your pregnancy and our marriage turned you into a woman who wants to claw out other women’s eyes because of jealousy,” he reminded her of the conversation they had had five days ago at The Geek Squad, “so you can hardly blame me for turning into a person who wants to make sure their his wife and unborn baby are safe.”

Felicity’s lips twitched up into a smile. She looked at him with so much love in her gaze that it almost took his breath away in an entirely different way than her risky climb had managed him to do. He knew that she understood him, and he didn’t even have to tell her all the reasons why it was important to him that she was getting up to their treehouse safely.

“Just for the record,” Felicity said, “if I were to slip and threatened to fall down-“

“I would catch you,” Oliver replied immediately. “You can just fall down. I am here.”

Instead of falling down, Felicity hurried to climb up the rest of the ladder and crawl onto the floor of their treehouse’s front porch quickly though. Letting her shanks dangling from the edge of the wood panels, she cocked her head at Oliver.

“Are you coming now?”

“If you promise not to move,” Oliver asked, “so I don’t feel like I have to catch you because I can guarantee that I will just let go and let myself fall back, so I can still catch you before you land down there.”

Felicity smiled, amused and enamored at the same measure Oliver guessed. She put a hand onto her heart and mouthed a silent vow then, actually making him agree on following her up the ladder. Still, he hurried up there to make sure that he was there to pull her off the edge of platform if necessary.

By the time he had reached the treehouse, Felicity was still standing at a safe distance to the edge of the platform. Hence, there was no reason for him to safe her. It didn’t stop him from putting his hands to Felicity’s hips and walk her backwards into their treehouse, brushing a kiss against the tip of her nose.

With a content sigh, Felicity wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and leaned back just enough to look at his face. She was smiling happily, infecting Oliver with it easily. If Felicity was happy, there was no reason for him not to be happy.

“So, why did you want to go to our treehouse on Christmas Eve Morning?”

“Christmas Eve Morning,” Felicity whispered, shaking her head. “As someone who was not raised in Christian Belief, I have to tell you that it sounds weird to call it Christmas Eve Morning when the only holiday is Christmas Eve. Like, I am not sure that Christmas Eve Morning is actually a thing.”

“It is for my family,” Oliver replied. “Christmas Eve Morning is always used to set up the tree and put all the gifts under it and build up the Natal Scene.”

Felicity nodded slowly. “Can this child please be raised as a part of the Jewish community because your traditions freak me out, and I am saying that as someone who has lived with you and your family for a while.”

Oliver chuckled and pecked her lips. “Whatever you want.”

“Really?” Felicity asked, perking up her eyebrows, and poked her forefinger against his chest. “Be careful what you promise me because I am going to nail you down on it.”

Knowing that she was most likely saying the truth, Oliver made up his mind quickly. Felicity would probably make him adopt a dozen of dogs, tattoo her name on his forehead and run around at their home all day every day for the rest of her life. Especially with the pregnancy, she did have some crazy ideas going through her head currently.

Clearing his throat, he quickly changed the topic. “You didn’t answer my question. What are we doing here?”

When he had woken up this morning, Felicity had already been awake. She had lay beside him, her head propped up onto her hand, while she had been watching him. As soon as he had opened his eyes, she had suggested getting to their treehouse, so they had done so. They had even skipped breakfast as Felicity’s morning sickness had increased through the last days, and she couldn’t get a bite down.

Taking his hand with a smile, Felicity led Oliver over to where they had carved their initials into the wooden panels. O & F.

Oliver smiled at the three little signs. Lifting his free hand, he brushed his fingertips against the carved letters and the sign between. O & F, Oliver and Felicity. Those two names had never seemed to belong more together than they did right now.

“I think it’s time to follow your granddad’s instruction,” Felicity said with quiet voice and held out a knife for him. “Now, those letters do need that heart around them.”

Oliver felt his heart warming at Felicity’s words. It had been years since they had built this treehouse with is grandfather. Just like he himself, Felicity hadn’t forgotten about any details about it though. She remembered that his grandfather had suggested carving a heart around the letters, but they had both turned that idea down. They had just been friends after all.

Now that they were married, Felicity was right though. That heart really should be there now. Hence, he took the knife from her and started carving that heart. Sappy as he was now that he was a married man, he even added an arrow to go through the heart.

Doing the whole thing barely took some seconds. As soon as it was done, he and Felicity stood back and watched the new carving. Felicity’s arms were wrapped around his waist tightly, while he had put an arm around her shoulders and had rested his chin on the crown of her head.

“All those years ago, who would have thought that we would end up here?” Oliver asked and kissed the crown of Felicity’s head. “Would you have thought, Mrs. Queen-Smoak?”

Felicity angled her head back and smiled at him at the mention of her new surname. It was the first time that he had been able to bring it up naturally since they had been to the Council Courts office yesterday. She looked utter content as being called Mrs. Queen-Smoak, so he guessed that it had been the right decision for her.

“I wouldn’t have,” she admitted. Her smile widened before she asked, “What about you, Mr. Queen-Smoak?”

Oliver chuckled. His arm tightened around Felicity’s shoulders, and he brushed a kiss against her forehead. He loved to hear his name as much as Felicity loved to hear it seemed. Both of them were utterly content with the decision they had made.

Asked about their surname in Las Vegas, they had delayed the decision. They hadn’t wanted to make the wrong choice just because they were in a hurry. Changing your name was a big thing after all.

On their flight back from Las Vegas to Starling City, they had eventually talked this decision out. Oliver had suggested that he would just take hers. After all the months of using the name Smoak at The Geek Squad, he was utterly used and comfortable with it. He wouldn’t mind using it officially in every aspect of his life. After all, he knew that he couldn’t be prouder than to sign any paper possible with Felicity’s family name.

Felicity, on the other hand, had pointed out that they were leading a company called Queen Consolidated after all. It was his father’s legacy, so it would be wrong to change that name. Besides, all the money that would cost would be lost for improving those bio-stimulants. They were already making good process on those, but they needed every penny they could offer to really give people hope that it would work out at the end.

Eventually, they had agreed that taking on each other’s name was the right thing to do. While Smoak-Queen had the better ring to it, with Queen Consolidated there for them to lead, they had eventually decided to take on the name Queen-Smoak.

Oliver Queen-Smoak and Felicity Queen-Smoak. Always and forever.

Still looking at their letters as well as the heart and arrow carved into the wood panels, Oliver tightened his arm around Felicity once more. She angled her head back in response, smiling at him with so much love in her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered, “and I couldn’t be prouder to call you my husband.”

Oliver’s smile widened even more, and he tightened his arm around her shoulder just a little more. “I love you too.”

* * *

“Just close your eyes.”

With the way his lips brushed against the shell of her ear and his breath ghosted over the side of her face, Felicity couldn’t feel more content. She released a low sigh and let her head drop back against Oliver’s shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut, and all tension seemed to leave her body. She turned into wax in his arms, and she felt completely at peace by it.

They were lying together on the bed. Felicity was sitting between Oliver’s spread legs. Her feet were hooked under his shanks. Her hands were rested on top of his thighs, massaging small circles into his muscles. She guessed that they were aching after the long run he had gone out for this afternoon. He had been so proud of himself, saying the thought of coming back to her was spurning him oven even more and had helped him to run his usual route even more quickly than he had ever had. It was why this lazy way of spending their first married Christmas Eve just right.

Staying like that, Felicity just enjoyed all the sensations Oliver made her feel. His chest was pressing to her back, warming her skin even through the thick hoodie she was wearing. His arms were wrapped around her, keeping her safe. His hands were moving up and down her stomach, one over and one under the fabric of her hoodie.

This morning, after they had returned from their short trip to the treehouse, it had been the first time that she believed to have seen some change in her body. If she had really focused on her reflection in the mirror, she had been sure that she could see the smallest of a baby bump showing there. Oliver had needed a lot of convincing before he had agreed to it, and Felicity actually believed that he had only given in because he hadn’t wanted to get into a fight with her. Anyway, he had agreed, so Felicity would just nail him down on that.

Lacing her fingers through Oliver’s on her existing or non-existing baby bump, she eventually opened her eyes. Her head turned, so she could look at his face, and she smiled at him softly.

“We have been married for a week,” Felicity whispered. “Can you believe it?”

“I believe that more easily than the fact that we haven’t gotten into a severe fight yet,” Oliver replied and nuzzled her nose with his. His lips brushed against hers briefly. “What does that say about me?”

Felicity smiled. “It says that you know us very well. We are bound to have a severe fight sooner or later. Well, rather sooner than later I guess.”

“We do. Right?”

Oliver’s question or rather the way he scrunched up his nose at the thought that they could be fighting made Felicity chuckle. Of course, with the way things were right now, it seemed impossible that they could get into a fight. Even during their friendship, they had been several moments that could have easily ended up in a terrible fight though. They might get into a fight in their future, but that wouldn’t change the fact that they were utterly in love with each other and that they wouldn’t let anything or anyone get between them.

“I am not worried though,” Felicity replied honestly, squeezing his fingers on her stomach. “We got through two engagements with the wrong people and still found our way to each other. I know that I will never give up on this easily.”

“Neither will I.” Oliver’s smile turned into a grin. “I will just take all the blame and apologize whether it’s my fault or not.”

“See?” Felicity replied and had to bite back a chuckle. “We are good at solving problems. Now you just have to continue taking all the blame for the rest of our lives.”

Oliver nodded. “Done.”

“Good.”

They both chuckled softly before they leaned in. Their lips touched in a gentle kiss, sealing the promise they had just made to each other. They wouldn’t give up easily. If their marriage should ever be at risk, they would fight as much as they could to make it stay away. That was how much they loved each other.

“I don’t regret it at all, you know?” Oliver whispered eventually, leaning his head more against hers. “I know this idea of getting married so quickly and so spontaneously has been crazy, but I am really happy that we decided to do it. I couldn’t be happier.”

“Neither could I be.”

Felicity watched their laced fingers on top of her lower stomach where their baby was growing. In a lot of ways, it still felt incredibly surreal to her. Being married to Oliver, the best friend she had and would ever have was just so weird. It was right in all ways possible, but she knew that she would need a lot more time to get used to it. Right now, she felt like she was floating on her cloud number nine.

It might even take all of her life, but she didn’t mind as she didn’t intend on getting rid of Oliver before that anyway.

“I determined my rental contract,” Oliver said after a moment of pause and placed a gentle kiss to the soft spot under her ear. “By the beginning of February, the loft is up to be rented by someone new. Once we got through the holidays, I will move all the stuff I really need here. The rest will be sold or given away for charity or whatever.”

Again, Felicity smiled and turned her head back too look at Oliver. His face was all relaxed. He looked content at the thought of leaving his loft behind to move into her penthouse. That had to mean a lot considering that a small townhouse like this was not something Oliver had ever seen himself living in. Felicity had to know given how long she knew him already.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know this wouldn’t have been your first choice, but I am really grateful that you agreed to move here. I really, really love it here.”

“I know.” Oliver kissed the tip of her nose. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to move in here with you after all.”

Felicity looked at Oliver with slightly narrowed eyes to make her doubt obvious. She really doubted that Oliver would have ever disagreed with living here. If there was one thing that she knew, it was that Oliver had trouble to deny her anything that she wanted. She guessed that she was his weak spot, and he should probably wish for them to have a baby boy. Otherwise, he would be completely lost for the rest of his life.

“I don’t mind where we live,” Oliver told her eventually, shrugging his shoulders slightly, “as long as we live together.”

Again, Felicity smiled. She snuggled back even further into Oliver’s arms and closed her eyes for a moment. She really had no idea how she had been able to get this lucky. Oliver, a man she loved so much that it almost took her breath away, just wanted to be with her. He put back all of his own wishes and dreams to live the life she wanted because she was all that he really wanted to have.

“Once the baby is born, we might need something bigger though,” Oliver whispered into her ear eventually. “There is no real room for a nursery, and this townhouse is a little too small for two people anyway.”

Perking up her eyebrows, Oliver looked at him. “Are you really scared that we will annoy each other to hell and back already?”

Oliver chuckled. “No, I don’t. If it was up to me, we could as well live in a closet. I do know that, if we stay here, we will probably just continue to screwing each other’s brains out though, and we will end up having a dozen of kids within ten years.”

Felicity screwed up her nose. “Ugh.”

“Exactly,” Oliver agreed. “Because how are we going to have sex when we have twelve kids to take care of?”

Whispering those words against her lips, Oliver let his hand move from her lower stomach to the juncture of her legs. His fingers were aiming for her clit and center, willing to make her feel all the pleasure he could make her feel. Quickly, Felicity grabbed his hand and pulled it away though.

“What-?“

“I got you a Christmas present,” Felicity told him and pecked his lips briefly before she rolled onto her side and reached into the topmost drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out the small gift she had wrapped for him and handed it to him. “Merry Christmas, Husband.”

Oliver smiled at her choice of words. He took the gift from her and turned it between his hands that were still resting on the height of her stomach.

“It’s not even Christmas yet.”

Felicity just released a low sound, a mixture of a hum and a sigh. She doubted that she would ever get these Christmas traditions, especially since they seemed to vary so much around the world. In some European countries, she knew that Christmas presents were exchanged during Christmas Eve already. In other countries, gifts weren’t exchanged until early January for whatever reason. It seemed weird that it was different in the US and some other countries too. Shouldn’t it be the same everywhere?

“It’s already Chanukah,” Felicity told him, “so just open it.”

Oliver shot her a brief smile before he started unwrapping the gift. The moment he had turned it, so he could really look what she had gotten from her, an almost teary glance formed in his eyes. Felicity watched the expression of his face changing from joy to an emotion that she didn’t know to name and couldn’t describe and back to utter joy.

When Felicity had thought about what present to get Oliver for this year’s Christmas and Chanukah, the first holiday they celebrated as husband and wife, she had been torn between what to do. In one way, she knew that Oliver appreciated small gestures very much. In the other way, their first holiday as husband and wife had screamed for something fancy and extraordinary.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Felicity looked at the three-piece photo collage she had gotten from him. On the left side, there was a photo of them in Las Vegas after their wedding. They had taken it with their phones, making sure that this moment was secured for eternity. On the right side, two photos were put one below the other. The upper one was an ultrasound picture of their baby. The other was a snippet of their baby’s heartrate, quick but steady.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, his fingertips brushing against the photo snippet of her face at first and then the ultrasound of their baby. “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

Oliver nodded, still unable to take his eyes off those photos. “Yes, absolutely. Everything I hold dear in just frame.”

Felicity smiled. She put her hand to the side of Oliver’s face and stroked them from her temple down his cheek towards his chin. Firming her grip on him there, she turned his face towards him and captured his lips in a kiss.

She already wanted to pull back when Oliver chased her lips and deepened the kiss. His tongue darted out to lick over her bottom lip. With a sigh, she opened her lips to his touch and stroked her tongue against his. Tasting the taste of his tongue on hers made her hips urge back against his. She rubbed her behind against his groin, enjoying the way his lips shifted in response.

“You can ravish me now,” Felicity whispered against his lips before she pressed her lips down on his once more. “That might be your second Christmas gift to unwrap.”

“And I will do so happily,” Oliver replied. His lips brushed against hers once more as his nose nuzzled his. “After you unwrapped your Chanukah gift.”

“My Chanukah gift?”

While Felicity was pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth, Oliver chuckled. He reached his hand into the pocket of his sweat pants and pulled out a small box.

“You didn’t think that I would let you get away without a gift, right?” he asked, dropping it into her lap. “Not on my watch.”

Felicity knew that she shouldn’t feel so touched by Oliver’s words. In all the years that they had been friends, he had always made sure that she got at least one gift for Chanukah, knowing that her father had sometimes pretended to forget about that Chanukah tradition and refusing to give Donna the money she would have needed to buy even a single gift for her daughter.

Since Felicity had been taken on by the Queens as part of the family, she had been spoilt by gifts though. She still remembered the mountains of wrapped up gifts she had received during her first Chanukah in Starling City. Shyly, she had taken one gift and unwrapped it. The roller blades inside had already made her incredibly happy. She couldn’t have wished for more, but Robert had led her back to the gifts, telling her that all of them were for her.

Thinking about it now, Felicity felt tears welling in her eyes. She doubted that anyone who hadn’t gone through something similar could understand what it felt like to be suddenly spoilt like that. She had never had a particularly poor life, but holidays with the Queens, gifts or not, had always felt incredibly special.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered with the lowest of a chuckle. He rested his cheek against hers and tightened his arms around her shoulders. “This was not supposed to make you cry, at least not before you unwrapped it.”

“I know.” Quickly, Felicity wiped her hands under her eyes to dry the tears. “Blame it on the hormones. They make me weak.”

“So weak that you watched all the seasons of Downton Abbey last week.”

“Shhh,” Felicity soothed him, putting her fingers on top of his lips. “I watched that new commercial with the puppy that looks so sad. Everything just went to hell after that. I didn’t even remember who I was.”

“You are Felicity Megan Queen-Smoak,” Oliver reminded her and kissed the tip of her nose. “That is who you are.”

Felicity sighed contently, snuggling back into Oliver’s chest even more. She couldn’t get enough of hearing him say her new name. She felt like every single time he said her name, it helped her to accept this new reality a little more.

“I love the sound of that.”

“So, do I,” Oliver assured her with another whisper into her ear, and he kissed her cheek. “Now let’s unwrap your gift.”

Felicity did as asked of her and started unwrapping her gift. She did so neatly, ripping off every stripe of tape he had used and unfolding the paper her gift was wrapped in slowly. She could feel Oliver’s impatience in the low sighs that fell from his lips. As much as he tried to hold them back, he just couldn’t hide them from her.

When she had unwrapped the small velvet box, she put the paper away and turned her head back to look at Oliver’s face. He was nervous about her reaction. She could see that much. His hands tightened on her hips, and he rubbed his thumbs against her skin in small circles.

“Just open it.”

He just mouthed the words without any sound falling from his lips. He was smiling, but she could still feel that he had to take in deep breaths to even manage that tense smile.

As much as Felicity loved to tease Oliver, she didn’t want to torture him too long. Hence, she quickly followed his suggestion. With a move of her thumbs, she opened the small velvet box. What she saw inside simply took her breath away.

Inside of the velvet box, surrounded by soft lining, a beautiful diamond ring was placed. The thin ring was made of platin. A detail of a collection of twelve small diamonds in various sizes and forms was attached to the top of it, framing the center piece that was built by a square-formed diamond. Felicity stroked her thumb over the precious jewelry. Although they were taking a lot of space on the ring, they weren’t too big. They were just slightly higher than the ring itself.

“I proposed to you so spontaneously that I didn’t have ring,” Oliver said eventually, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t get you a special wedding band because we got married so quickly, so I thought that I should make good for the lack of an engagement ring by giving you this because I really wanted to give you a special ring like this. I chose this one because it really got character, and it is a little vintage. It even looks close to the one my grandpa gave to my grandma all those years ago. Besides, I figured that it fitted your needs. It’s impressive, I hope, as it sparkles in the right light and it should scare any guy off who thinks it’s okay to flirt with you, but it’s also not big enough to get in the way when you are working. I know that you usually don’t like to wear rings because they annoy you when you are working on your computers. This felt like a compromise between style and practice.”

Listening to Oliver’s words, she couldn’t help but smile even more. He had put so much thought into choosing that ring. He knew her so well that he just knew that she needed something that she could wear during work without getting in the way. As much as he wanted to give her a ring that he thought was worth having, he didn’t want her to feel hampered in her work when she was wearing it.

“You hate it,” Oliver whispered, mistaking her silence for something it wasn’t. “I knew I should have pulled a Sweet Home Alabama and ask you to pick your own wedding ring to make sure that you would really like it. I knew I should have done it, but I decided differently because of my ego or because of- whatever it was, I am so sorry, Felicity. I will just give this back and you will choose a ring that you truly love and-“

Putting her hand to the back of Oliver’s neck, Felicity turned her head once more. She captured Oliver’s lips in a searing kiss. She doubted that it could carry all the love she was feeling for him, but she hoped that it helped him to at least feel a little bit of it. There were no words to say how much she loved him, and there were no words to tell him how grateful he was that he was so considerate of her needs.

Oliver gave into the kiss with a sigh. His grip eased on her hips, and he wrapped his arms back around her waist to hold him as tightly as possible.

“I love it,” Felicity whispered, pulling away just enough to lock eyes with Oliver. “I really love this ring, and I couldn’t possibly wish for anything better.”

“Yeah?”

Relief and utter joy showed on Oliver’s face. She could feel his uneven heartbeat to going back to a rhythmic movement now that this burden was taken from him. His lips pressed against her temple for a moment, and Felicity was almost sure that he needed this moment to recover from the shock he had gone through, thinking she didn’t like the ring at all.

“Yeah,” Felicity just confirmed with a breath whisper. She lifted her left hand that already carried her wedding band and smiled. “Will you slide it on my finger?”

“Gladly.”

Oliver took the velvet box from her and took the ring from it. Slowly, his eyes locked onto Felicity’s, he slid the ring onto her finger until it was placed right in front of her wedding band.

Lifting her hand in front of her face, Felicity looked at the two rings together. They were both quite simple and yet unique. Together, they built an incredibly duo. She couldn’t wish for anything more beautiful, and she knew that they would make a good picture on her hands now that she was going to carry them for the rest of her life.

“I love them,” Felicity whispered and placed a quick kiss to the underside of Oliver’s jaw. “Thank you so much.”

“I am glad you like them,” Oliver just replied and brushed his thumb over the rings on her finger, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “They do suit you very well.”

Felicity smiled. “It’s a shame that I have to take them off tomorrow morning when we meet our parents at the mansion. Our moms are going to faint if they see the rings.”

The closer the day had come, the more nervous Felicity had started feeling about it. She loved Oliver, and she was happy to share a life with him. As long as it had been a little bit of secret between them, Robert, John and Tatsu, it had been a lot easier though. Once they told their mothers about the relationship they had started and the marriage they had agreed to, it would be a lot more difficult though. Their mothers wouldn’t make it easy for them. Unlike everyone else, they would barge in and try to make decisions for them. It was just who they were.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, prompting Felicity to turn her head back over her shoulder and look at him once more. “You and me, that is all that counts. We are going to make the decisions for us, our marriage and our baby.”

Felicity nodded, hoping Oliver was right. She knew that it wouldn’t be easy to fight off her mother though Oliver would probably disagree and say that his mom was much more a problem than hers. As long as each of them was keeping their own mom covered, she guessed that it should be alright at the end.

Their lips touched in another kiss. Felicity moved her hand towards the back of Oliver’s neck. She tried to deepen the kiss, but Oliver pulled back slightly.

“Do I get to ravish you now, Mrs. Queen-Smoak?”

“Feel free to do so, Mr. Queen-Smoak.”

Of course Oliver didn’t have to be told twice. Capturing her lips in another kiss, his hand moved between her legs. With slow movements, he stroked his fingers back and forth against her sex over the panties she was wearing. Felicity moaned into the kiss in response, arching her back and digging her fingernails into his skin slightly.

Soft waves of heat were already running through her body. Just the touch of his fingers where she longed for him made her crazy for more already. She couldn’t wait to feel his calloused fingertips thrusting inside of her wet core and his thumb rubbing against her clit. She wanted to fall apart in his arms and feel him catching her while she was falling, knowing that she was safe and sound with him.

“Oliver.”

His name fell from her lips in a desperate whisper, telling him that she just needed more. She knew that he needed more too. With every shift of her hips, moving her sex against his fingers, she could feel his cock hardening more and more. He wanted her as much as she wanted and needed him right now.

Oliver’s hands moved from her sex to her hips. He held onto them firmly and supported her rubbing movements. He thrust up against her ass slightly, and Felicity could feel even more heat forming in the pit of her stomach. Her almost desperate need for Oliver was almost ridiculous given that they were married and expecting a child. She guessed that it didn’t change the fact that they had been together for barely some weeks, so the passion was still running high.

Maybe (hopefully!) that would never change.

When Felicity pushed her hips down onto Oliver’s lap just a little bit more, applying more pressure to his cock, he seemed to remember why exactly what he had been supposed to do. His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties, and he tugged them down her legs. Felicity helped him to get rid of them by shifting her hips and moving her legs until she was freed of the lace eventually. He dropped it to the floor carelessly.

Stroking his tongue against hers a little bit more firmly, his fingers started moving from her knee up her leg. His fingers brushed against the inside of her thigh. A trail of goosebumps followed his touch, and she felt even more turned on by his touch. She was impatient to feel his fingers where they had been before without any barrier between them this time.

It didn’t take too long for Oliver’s fingers to find the way to her center. They brushed between her folds and stroked from her entrance to her clit slowly. Although he was avoiding the most sensitive areas of her sex yet, Felicity moaned into the kiss already.

Felicity shifted her hips, continuing to rub her butt against Oliver’s lap and trying to make his fingers touch where she was aching for him already. Oliver made sure to avoid those spots, keeping his touch light. His fingers moved back and forth between her folds gently. Though the slow touch was intimate and loving, it was also so very teasing. As long as his fingers would move there instead of going a little deeper or a little higher, he would just keep her here where she was turned on and hungry for more without offering this more to her.

“Oliver.”

She whispered his name against his lips before she stroked her tongue into his mouth and moved it over the roof his mouth. Oliver groaned into the kiss, but Felicity already pulled back. He tried to chase her lips without success. Felicity was always staying right out of reach, letting Oliver close enough to feel her breath on his skin, but not close enough to touch her.

Their eyes were locked on each other, and Felicity could pinpoint the moment that he got what she was doing. He puckered his lips slightly, considering whether he should just give into the deal she had to offer – more kisses for his fingers inside of her core – or if he should play this game with her for a little while. The sparkle in his eyes told her that he decided on the latter.

As frustrating as this teasing was for her libido, it did so much good to her heart. She couldn’t put into words how much it meant to her that she and Oliver could be this silly even during sex. When they had talked during his rehearsal dinner and she had told him that what they had had was gone, she couldn’t have been more wrong. They were still the friends they had been all their lives. Now, they were just so much more than that too.

The thought made her smile, and Felicity couldn’t help but feel even more eager to play this little game of teasing with him. Making sure that Oliver’s eyes were still focused on hers, she let her tongue dart out and wetted the seam of her lips. Immediately, Oliver’s gaze flickered down to her lips, watching her tongue moving there. When his eyes found hers again, she saw that his pupils were widened.

Finally, his fingers moved lower and the tips of his forefinger dipped into her core. Felicity moaned, her back arching even more. Just the sensation of that one finger sliding inside of her slowly took her breath away.

Felicity could feel the slight shift of his finger as Oliver was about to pull it out before he had thrusted it in completely. Opening her eyes that had fluttered shut from her arousal before, she noticed that he was looking at her with slightly perked up eyebrow and quickly captured his lips in a passionate kiss. Fair as he was, Oliver stayed true to their deal. His finger continued moving into her hot core.

Once his finger was deep inside of her, he curled it, causing the tip of it to press against her slick walls. Felicity moaned into the kiss. She scraped her front teeth against Oliver’s bottom lip and enjoyed the rumble it elicited from deep in his chest. It was an almost primitive sound, one that was the result of a deep need to be with her.

Oliver moved his finger out of her, but he thrusted two fingers back inside the next moment. Felicity sucked in a deep breath. She had trouble resisting the urge to let her head fall back to catch her breath. She was sure that Oliver would pull out his fingers the very moment she broke the kiss though. Maybe she should have never started this little deal in the first place.

For a long time, Oliver thrusted his fingers in and out of her slick channel. She moved her hips in synch with his thrusts, allowing his fingers to go even deeper. When they brushed against the ruffled skin, she felt little sparks of fire building everywhere inside of her.

The movements of her hips sped up a little. Her butt thrusted down on Oliver’s groin all the more. She could feel his body tensing more and more in response. His muscular chest felt even harder against her back. His heart was beating erratically, and Felicity’s heart hurried to adapt to the rhythm of his. It wanted to be completely and utterly in synch with him, forgetting everything else there was around them.

As Oliver’s fingers thrusted in and out of her even faster and his thumb brushed against her clit, Felicity felt like he was fanning the sparks of fire that had been built inside of her before. With just a few more circles of his thumb on her clit, she felt those sparks of fires exploding. Lust and love spread inside of her, rushing through each one of her veins and spasms running through every single one of her muscles.

Once more she wondered if she had really just learned what an orgam was supposed to feel like when she had first slept with Oliver. Of course she knew that it was exaggerated. She had had orgasms before, good orgasms even. What she was experiencing with Oliver was so much more than that though. It was breathtaking, souldcrushing and mindblowing. It was probably a thousand other things too, but those three words summed it up perfectly. With Oliver, everything was just more intense.

While the last trembles of pleasure were running through her body, Felicity pulled back just enough to look at Oliver’s face. He was smiling at her softly, nuzzling her nose with his for a moment. Pulling his fingers out of her core, he lifted them to his mouth and licked her juices off of them. His eyes stayed firmly locked on hers.

A low moan or maybe the quietest of a whisper escaped her mouth. She felt even more turned on than she had been seconds ago. She felt like it should be impossible, but it was still so very true.

Felicity hurried to capture his lips in another searing kiss. She could taste herself on his lips. The thought of how much she knew that he enjoyed it made her moan into the kiss. She tried to turn around, so she could press her clit against his cock and thrust against him. Oliver’s arms tightened around her waist to keep her in place.

Another moan escaped Felicity at the thought of having him thrust into her from this position. He would be able to go so deep and reach ever single sensitive spot inside of her. Her ass would rub against his groin. If she spread her legs, he would certainly get the sign and stroke his hand against her sex slowly, increasing her pleasure even more.

Felicity’s walls were clenching down on emptiness hard as her fantasy was making her so very ready for him. Moving her arms behind her, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants.

“These need to go off.”

“Gladly.”

Although she was sitting in his lap, Oliver lifted his hips off the bed easily and tugged his sweatpants and boxer briefs down in one go. Felicity grinned.

“Eager, Mr. Queen-Smoak?”

“Only if you continue calling me that, Mrs. Queen-Smoak.”

“Gladly, Mr. Queen-Smoak.”

Oliver released that sexy growl that always made Felicity’s toes curl. She stroked her tongue into his mouth and grazed her teeth against his bottom lip. Her hips lowered down onto his. His cock, hot and hard as she loved it most, resting between her slick folds.

They moaned into the kiss in unison, moving together slowly. The head of Oliver’s cock bumped against her clit every time he angled his hips forward. Felicity pressed her back closer to his chest, trying to get as close to him as humanly possible. If she could, she would just melt with him.

When she wasn’t able to take the teasing anymore since every cell in her muscle felt like it was on fire and each muscle was stretched to a breaking point, she reached between them. Her fingertips brushed against his cock. His warm skin felt like velvet despite the hardness between. She took hold of him a little more firmly to position him at her entrance, causing Oliver to gasp for breath and let his head fall back against the cushioned headrest of the bed.

Motivated by his reaction, Felicity decided to delay her plans of making him thrust into her. Instead, she stroked her hand up and down his length slowly, almost torturously slowly to be exact. She enjoyed the way Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut. He bit down on his bottom lip firmly, restraining himself from releasing a long moan.

Smiling, Felicity leaned her ears close to Oliver’s ear. She scraped her front teeth against his lobe before she whispered, “Don’t hold back.”

At that, Oliver’s eyes snapped open. The deep blue of his iris seemed to dig right into her head and probably even into her soul. It clawed itself around her heart and tightened its grip around it to a point that Felicity was sure her heart couldn’t jump out even if it tried to.

Felicity didn’t know if it was her gaze or something else. Either way, Oliver did what she had told him. He didn’t hold back any longer. Instead, he started thrusting into her hand slightly and didn’t bite back his sounds of pleasure anymore. He moaned out and released those little hisses and growls, spurning her on even more.

With a soft smile on her lips, Felicity just watched him. She doubted that anyone more handsome had ever been born. If their baby was going to be born and it turned out to be a boy, he might be even more handsome though.

Wrapped up in her thoughts, Felicity hadn’t noticed how close to the edge she had driven Oliver already. She was tempted to just continue with his treatments. She wanted to see him fall apart, see how his eyes turned hazy and his lips opened in wild panting. She wanted to feel his body trembling beneath her and feel his muscles shiver against her back.

Before she could do so, Oliver pushed her hand away and position himself at her entrance. He thrust up slightly, allowing just the thick tip of his cock to move inside of her wet core. It was enough for Felicity to lower her hips onto him, burying him inside of her completely.

Felicity had fantasied about what this would feel like before. Her fantasy didn’t live up to the reality though. Settled deep inside of her, he touched all those spots inside of her that felt like they had never been touched before. He stretched her inner walls, making them flutter around his hardness ever so softly.

They settled for a slow rhythm. Felicity’s back was arched slightly, lifting from Oliver’s chest. It only made her shoulder blades press more into his chest. Her head was placed against his shoulder. She could hear his erratic breath. It was ghosted over her the side of her face.

In the quiet of their home, their bodies moved together. They were completely in synch. Every movement of their hips matched the one of the other’s. Oliver moved his hands over her hips and her stomach. Felicity’s followed his there. She laced her fingers with his. That way, she felt anchored to him in all ways possible.

The long time of pleasuring each other before didn’t allow them to prolong this for too long. Rather sooner than later, they found themselves pulled to the edge. Felicity was panting so wildly that it made her chest hurt. The rhythm of her hips was uncontrolled. It was the same for Oliver. Felicity might not be able to feel much around herself, but she knew it was true.

With one final thrust, they came together. Their hands held onto each other firmly as he spilled into her. Her chest pressed to his back so close that she could feel his heartbeat against her ribs. They were both utterly and completely lost in each other.

As this ring has no end, my love is also forever. No words had ever felt truer.

* * *

Once Felicity had loosened her seatbelt, she kissed all three rings – her engagement ring and wedding band as well as Oliver’s wedding band – that she was carrying on a long necklace around her neck. Releasing a long breath that she didn’t know she had been holding, she let the ring disappear under the neckline of her dress. She could feel the cool metal in the valley between her breasts until it eventually took on the warmth of her skin.

Smiling nervously, she turned her head to look at Oliver. He was sitting in the passenger seat, looking at her with a soft and slightly calmer smile than Felicity herself could offer. His hand reached out, and he put it on top of her thigh, rubbing it up and down there slowly.

“You were right,” Felicity whispered. “Feeling those rings against my heart does relax me a little.”

Oliver smiled and squeezed her thigh gently, not saying a word. He had been the one who had suggested that she should take a long necklace with her and string all their rings onto it until they could carry them again once they had told their parents about their wedding. He had just known that she needed this little rescue rope.

“Now, do we want to go in?”

Felicity sighed, looking at the Queen Mansion. She had been there so many times, and the house had almost felt like home to her. It probably had felt like a home to her once in a while. Looking at it now, she couldn’t deny that she was slightly nervous going in there though. Telling their parents about their marriage was not a small thing after all.

“Let’s do this,” she said nonetheless. “We are together after all.”

Oliver smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. “I will do all the talking. All you have to do is be there and look pretty which comes naturally to you, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Felicity smiled. “My hero.”

Oliver winked at her before they got out of the car. They went over to the door of the mansion and stepped in. Oliver held the door open for her to go through first, and Felicity brushed her fingers against his forearm and the back of his hand. After all, she knew that this was the last opportunity she got to touch her husband until they had told everyone else about them.

The moment Felicity looked away from Oliver, who was winking at her encouragingly and looking ahead herself instead, Felicity snapped her fingers away quickly. She hadn’t known that Raisa was standing there and smiling at them before.

“Ms. Felicity. Mr. Oliver.”

Raisa’s voice didn’t sound surprised. She just smiled back and forth between the two of them. Her smile carried an almost knowing expression like she had all the information she needed to understand what was going on. It only made Felicity more nervous about all of this.

“Oliver just picked me up because my townhouse is basically on the way from his loft to here, and we figured that it would just be a good idea to drive together, so at least I could drink a little and- no, wait. I was the one who was driving, so he can drink and-“

Clearing his throat, Oliver stepped right behind Felicity, so his chest pressed into her back. He put his hands to her hips and lowered his lips to the shell of her ear.

“Felicity, we are going to tell everyone the truth now anyway,” he told her with whispered voice. “Stop making up senseless lies. You need your energy for when our mothers find out.”

Felicity put on a forced smile and walked past Raisa quickly. If she wasn’t completely wrong, she heard her chuckle before she turned to head down into the kitchen.

In the living room, Felicity and Oliver were greeted happily by their family. Donna had already arrived, so they were the last ones to join the party. They were hugged by Moira, Donna, Thea and finally Robert. The latter of them kissed Felicity’s temple and shared a meaningful look with her after looking down on her stomach.

Felicity couldn’t help but smile. At least one of the Queen Men did actually see what she was seeing there, no matter how small that belly might be yet.

Squeezing her hands, Robert eventually let go of Felicity’s hands and sat back down in the very same armchair where he had sat before. Felicity guessed that he wanted to enjoy the show of Moira, Donna and Thea finding out about the Queen-Smoak Baby that would soon enter this world. Little did he know that he was in for a surprise too, Felicity thought to herself.

“Now, let’s get you two a glass of champagne-“

“Not me,” Felicity interrupted Moira quickly before she could pour her a glass of it. “I’d be happy with some orange juice.”

“Of course.”

Moira didn’t even ask about it. She just poured a glass of champagne for Oliver and handed Felicity the glass of orange juice she had asked for. Felicity didn’t miss the quiet smile on Robert’s face as he sipped at his own champagne. After all, he was the only one except Oliver and Felicity in this room who knew the real reason why she wasn’t drinking any champagne today.

“Now let’s toast to this Christmas Morning,” Moira suggested, “and the fact that we still celebrate it together although it’s a much smaller round than we thought it would be earlier this year.”

Felicity bit down on her bottom lip and stared down on her feet, unable not to. As happy as she was that she and Oliver had finally found their way to each other, she really couldn’t deny that she felt guilty about the hearts that had to be broken for that to happen. It would have been a lot easier for everyone if they had just recognized their feelings for each other long before this.

Still, they all clinked their glasses before they took some sips. While everyone was busy with their drinks, Felicity shot a brief glance at Oliver. His eyes met hers briefly, and she could see him shrugging his shoulders. She knew that he had a plan how to tell their parents, but she couldn’t deny that she was a little worried that it would just take too long. She kind of just wanted to get it off her back.

“Oh, I haven’t gotten around to show you what Raisa found when she cleaned the attic,” Moira said. Putting her glass of champagne aside quickly, she grabbed Felicity’s hand and led her to the giant Christmas Tree that was decorated with baubles and other kind of decorations in red and golden colors. “Do you remember these?”

Moira pointed at three special baubles. They were painted in a golden tone, and a photo was placed on each. One was showing Oliver, one Felicity and the last one showed Thea.

“We made these with Raisa,” Felicity remembered and smiled softly. “Of course I remember.”

She turned her head back over her shoulder to look at Oliver, who was smiling back at her softly. She knew that he remembered as well as she did. Just like her, he had carried that memory close to his heart all those years.

“I know that you were kids back then, but I still thought that it was nice to use them again,” Moira said softly. “They remind me of the good old times. I know it might be a bit of a painful memory right now, but I do hope that you will get around doing something like this with your kids once the time has come.”

Again, Felicity shot a look back over her shoulder to look at Oliver. She was pretty sure that this would be the easier it would get to lead over to the baby they were having and the marriage they had decided to have with each other. Oliver just shook his head though, making her bite down on her tongue to bite back a sigh. She really didn’t know what else he was waiting for.

Moira clapped her hands together with a chuckle. “Now, that should be enough of the sentimental moments. I think it’s time to unwrap the presents.”

When Oliver winked at her, Felicity felt her heart skip a beat. She guessed that this was finally the moment that he would tell their families about everything that had happened in their lives lately. Although she had been impatiently waiting to get over with this, she couldn’t deny that she was growing even more nervous about it now that the moment was right ahead.

Technically, she knew that there shouldn’t be anything for her to be nervous about. Thea wouldn’t mind if she and Oliver got together. Moira and Donna would right out celebrate it after all these years that they had hoped for this to happen and they had been turned down. Even in their wildest dreams, she guessed that they hadn’t ever thought this day would come. Yet, here they were.

“So, I guess that we all have to search for our first gifts,” Oliver said with a long sigh, “and Felicity’s as well as mine just happen to be placed under the mistletoe together?”

Felicity bit down on her tongue, doing her best to hide her smile of amusement. After all, this had happened several times through the years. To the dislike of their mothers, they had always managed to get under the mistletoe and grab their gifts separately from each other though. They had grown up with their crazy obsession of hooking them up with each other long enough.

Donna and Moira shared a meaningful glance. While Donna was sitting down on the armrest of one of the chairs, resting one leg over the other, Moira stepped towards Oliver and Felicity. She set her glass of champagne aside once more. Reaching out her hand, she wrapped her fingers around one of their wrists and smiled at them.

“We all know that you have been through a lot these last couple of months,” Moira said, her voice as soft as Felicity had rarely ever heard it. “You two do know that Donna and I are just teasing you when we say that we think you would make beautiful babies or that we want you to be together or even when we place your Christmas gifts under a mistletoe.”

Felicity guessed she was right. If they hadn’t just been teasing, they would have never accepted Carter or McKenna to become parts of the family. Their teasing was quite aggressive though, at least at times.

“This year, we decided not to do anything like that out of respect of what you have been through.”

“Catch some rest, kids, before we start a new try,” Donna said with a smile and winked. “Just kidding.”

“Wo know that we don’t really stand a chance,” Moira added. “Just take it as a little inside joke of two old friends.”

In the back of the room, Robert was failing miserably to hide an amused smile. He was trying really hard to take some sips of his drink to distract him from his wife’s words. He had already caught his daughter’s attention though. Thea was looking back and forth between her father and the rest of the family with a deep frown, trying to understand what amused him so much.

Frowning deeply, Felicity turned her head and looked at Oliver once more. She guessed that his plans of pushing her under the mistletoe to find their gifts and kiss her there wouldn’t work as easily as he had planned it. For the first time, their mothers showed a little bit or remorse for all the pushing, shoving and teasing they had done through the last years, and it still turned out not to be exactly right.

Oliver hesitated, and she could almost see him playing their options through. She was sure that he knew as well as she did that just telling their mothers the truth wouldn’t be enough. They would think that this was an early April’s Fool’s joke or maybe a little revenge on all the teasing of the last years. They mothers would need visual proof that they were indeed together now.

Puckering his lips, Oliver turned towards Felicity. His gaze was meaningful, preparing her for whatever spontaneous solution he had just found, as he took the glass of orange juice from her. Together with his glass of champagne, he put it away on a close table. His eyes stayed locked with hers the entire time.

“Well, if they don’t push us down there this year…”

He quickly grabbed her hand and led her over to the place right in front of the fireplace where the mistletoe his parents always hid somewhere was placed. Looking at her intensely, he just waited until she gave him the most subtle nod of her head. With that, he wrapped his arms around her and bend her back until the only thing keeping her on her feet was the hold of his strong arms. The next moment, his lips pushed down on hers and everything around Felicity turned into a blur.

Felicity wasn’t sure if it was ever going to be different, and she knew with certainty that she never really wanted it to change. She loved the feeling of having everything and everyone around her disappear solely because Oliver’s lips were brushing against hers and his tongue was stroking against hers.

Felicity didn’t know how much time had passed when Oliver let go of her eventually. It could have been seconds, minutes or even hours. All she knew was that his eyes were looking at her intensely, and he was smiling from joy that, finally, the cat was out of the bag. From now on, they could kiss wherever they were and whatever they were doing because they were officially together.

Oliver brushed his lips against hers once more before he pulled her back into an upright position. His arms stayed wrapped around her tightly though, making sure that she wouldn’t move an inch away from him while they were looking at their families to see their reactions.

While Felicity felt her breath getting caught at the expressions in Donna’s, Moira’s and Thea’s faces, she could feel Oliver chuckling softly. The sounds weren’t audible, but she could feel the slight shaking of his chest. His lips brushed against her temple once more almost like he was telling her that just those facial expressions had been worth getting married.

As the silence continued, Felicity shot an insecure glance towards Robert. He winked at her and made a small gesture with his hand that seemed to ask them to talk about how this had happened. Maybe all the three women needed to stop staring at them like they were aliens was understanding how this had happened.

“Felicity and I discovered that we had feelings for each other a while ago,” Oliver said, rising to speak for them to Felicity’s relief. “Felicity and Carter had already broken up, but I was still with McKenna when it really hit us.”

With a low sigh, Felicity rested her head against Oliver’s chest and listened to the beat of his heart. She really wasn’t happy with how things had gone down with their engagements, but their cancelled engagements were more easily to accept than the thought of being married to the wrong people for the rest of their lives.

“Eventually, after some serious and much needed ass kicks, I finally realized that my feelings for Felicity were more than friendship and more than I had or could ever have with any other woman. McKenna, independent from myself, saw that too, and we agreed to cancel the wedding before it was too late.”

Felicity knew that Robert had pointed that out to Oliver before he had made his decision to cancel the wedding and that McKenna had come to the same conclusion around the same time Oliver had. It didn’t matter who had known it first though or how many times Oliver had needed to be told to cancel the wedding. At least to her, all that mattered was that he had eventually canceled the wedding.

“After my canceled wedding, we decided to give ourselves some times to find back to ourselves and let the situation cool down a little. We did go on a date very quickly though. It went great, and we eventually decided to be together because together is what makes us the happiest we could possibly be.”

Thea was smiling like a Cheshire Cat by now, looking back and forth between Oliver and Felicity. She was holding back on a squeal though it seemed to take a lot of her to do so. She was really excited about what she had just been told by her brother and the sister-in-law that she didn’t even know she had so far.

Donna and Moira on the other hand were still looking at them like they had just told them that they both thought they were adopted and were actually the children of some Mafia Bosses. Although, thinking about it, Felicity guessed that they would look less shocked about that.

“I knew about this by the way.”

Robert grinned happily and sipped at his champagne. Neither Donna nor Moira managed to even shoot him the briefest of glances though. They were looking like they were in deep shock about what they had just been told, or like they had just had a stroke. Maybe they needed to be resuscitated.

“Felicity and I are living together in her townhouse,” Oliver continued. He cleared his throat, showing the first sign of nervousness. “And we are having a baby.”

“Oh, this is a joke, right?” Donna asked, only partly convinced. “The pregnancy detail is just overdoing it a little and-“

“It’s no joke,” Oliver replied and shook his head. “Felicity and I are together, and we are expecting our first baby.”

Since Moira’s and Donna’s gazes both dropped down to Felicity’s lower stomach at that moment, Felicity quickly pulled the fabric of her dress closer over the small swell that had built there. Maybe seeing the baby bump, as barely visible as it was yet, was going to help them.

“Stop it,” Oliver whispered. “There is nothing to be seen there.”

“Of course it’s visible,” she told him in a whisper of her own. “Your dad can see it too.”

Robert nodded firmly. “It’s there, and, yes, I knew about this baby too.”

Donna and Moira exchanged a gaze of disbelief. They really couldn’t believe what their kids were telling them here. After all these years, it didn’t exactly surprise Felicity. The two old friends had probably long buried this dream of theirs.

Thea couldn’t hold back on her squeal now though. She released a loud chuckle, shaking her head. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as the chuckles seemed to make her stomach ache slightly.

“This is like a cheesy Hallmark Christmas Movie,” she said. “Just a thousand times better.”

“And this isn’t even everything.”

All eyes were turned onto Felicity as she finally found her voice. She angled her head back to shoot Oliver a quick smile. The warm smile he flashed her in addition to the rhythmic rubbing of his hand over the small of her back gave her the strength she needed to continue.

“Oliver and I got married in Las Vegas last week.”

Now, even Robert’s face showed surprise. This little piece of information was new even to him as it had been a well-kept secret between her and Oliver.

“I didn’t know about that,” he said. “Really?”

Felicity nodded her head and lifted the necklace she was wearing, so the three rings that were strung to it were visible.

“Oliver and I are Mr. and Mrs. Queen-Smoak now.”

There was a very long beat of silence. Felicity wondered if she should call a handful of ambulances, so everyone could be provided with medical care and some oxygen. She doubted that her mother or her mother-in-law were still breathing.

“Maybe we should have delivered the truth in smaller doses,” Felicity whispered to Oliver. “They are probably having a stroke.”

Thea was the first to snap out of her shock at Felicity’s words. With another loud squeal, she put her glass of champagne to the couch table and came running towards them. Her arms wrapped around Oliver and Felicity tightly as she hugged both of them at the same time.

“Congratulations,” she said, her voice still close to a squeal. “I am so happy for you guys, and I am so excited to be your baby’s godmother which I will be. You cannot stop me from that, no matter what. If I have to kill someone to get the title, I will do so.”

“We wouldn’t even try to do so,” Felicity said.

Thea pulled back a little, just to push Oliver away with one hand. She wrapped both of her arms around Felicity then, rocking her back and forth from side to side.

“Now, you are officially my sister.”

Felicity chuckled. “I always wanted to have a little sister, so I guess that’s great for both of us.”

Thea wanted to say something more, but Robert had already gotten up. Putting his hands to his daughter’s shoulders, he pulled her away from Felicity and almost pushed her into Oliver’s arms.

“Go and hug your brother now, Thea,” he told her with soft voice. “I need a moment with my daughter-in-law.”

While Thea grumbled a little when Oliver pulled her into his arms and rubbed the knuckles of his fingers over her scalp, Robert pulled Felicity against his chest. His grip was even stronger than Thea’s was.

“You have been part of this family since the first time you put your foot over the doorstep,” he whispered into her ear, “but I am still happy to welcome you into this family legally.”

Felicity chuckled. “I am happy to be part of it legally too. Officially a Queen now, I guess.”

Robert placed a firm kiss on her cheek before he pushed her an armlength away from her. He was still smiling all over his face, looking her up and down with an expression of almost disbelief. After all these years and despite knowing about her and Oliver before everyone else had, he couldn’t believe that he could really call her his daughter now.

He pulled her back against his chest and into another tight hug once more before he eventually let go of her and nodded towards his wife and Felicity’s mother.

“I guess I will check on the both of them now.”

Felicity nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her front teeth. Oliver quickly let go of Thea and wrapped his arms around Felicity from behind. His chin came to rest on his shoulder as they both looked at their mothers. Robert had stepped behind them and wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders, looking past them and the newlyweds.

“Who would have thought that we were actually going to be a family after all?”

Donna grabbed Moira’s hand firmly, anchoring herself to her. Her eyes were still directed at Oliver and Felicity though. With wide eyes, afraid to miss even the blink of an eye, she stared at the two of them. Her head turned from side to side slightly as she observed first one and then the other closely.

“This is not a joke, right?” she asked, completely flustered. “This is happening.”

Felicity smiled at her mother softly. Leaning back into Oliver’s arms, she turned her head to look at his content face for a moment. Still smiling, she looked back at her mother.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head. “This is the most real thing that has ever happened to me I guess.”

Oliver kissed the side of her neck in response to her words and tighten his arms around her. She could feel him smile against her pulse point before he eventually rested his chin on her shoulder again. Felicity guessed that he wanted to watch his mother-in-law’s reaction like Felicity was doing already.

“Oh my god!”

With a happy squeal that just seemed to sum up her mother the way she was perfectly, Donna flung her arms around her daughter’s neck. She swayed her from side to side with so much force that Felicity was almost sure some of her vortexes would dislocate.

Soon, much sooner than Felicity had thought, her mother let go of her and almost pushed her away. Putting her hand to her lower stomach instinctively, Felicity shook her head and watched her mother stepping towards Oliver. She should have known that she was written off, the moment her mother knew that Oliver was officially part of her family now.

“Son,” she said, stepping in front of him. Her hands framed his face and squished it together, making him look like a fish. “I am officially allowed to call you that now, right?”

“Absolutely,” Oliver agreed. He tried to nodded his head, but Donna’s grip seemed to be too firm for him to move easily. “Mom.”

Donna squealed once more. Just like with Felicity, she wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders now. She had to push up onto the tip of her toes, lifting even the high heels od her shoes a little bit off the floor, to fit her body against his comfortably. She swayed him from side to side like she had done with Felicity before too. As soon as she pulled way, she squished his face against.

“Oh, I am so happy. I have no words for it,” she said. “I might be a little mad that you chose to elope, but I am sure that I will be able to forgive you once Moira and I planned a real wedding party for you. Of course you need a traditionally Jewish wedding. Don’t worry though. I will take care of it. I know exactly what I am doing. It will be fabulous.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. She had known this would come, but she would talk herself out of it for as long as possible. With a baby on the way and the task of raising a newborn at hand, she got that they had a little bit time. Her mother certainly wanted to see her dressed in a long wedding dress with lots of tulle. She would wear it for her sake (probably!), but she would wait for as long as possible to give into it.

“Oliver, I already know that you are the best thing that has ever happened to Felicity. It won’t always be easy with her. She is stubborn and very driven at times, but I have trust that you have the patience to take her as she is and still love her with all of your heart. Like I said, it won’t be easy, and-“

“Mom.”

“-there will be times that you will feel like you need to scream and let out all of your frustration and-“

“Mom.”

“-just breathe. If just happens, you can always come to me, and I will be there for you and lend you an ear to listen. After all, I know how difficult it can be to live with Felicity and-“

“Mom.”

Felicity stepped between Oliver and her mother decidedly now. Putting her hands to her mother’s shoulders, she took a few steps forwards. Her mother had to take a few steps back in response. Effectively distancing her mother from Oliver, she leaned her lips against her mother’s ear.

“Stop it. Don’t scare him away.”

Turning back around, Felicity hurried back to Oliver’s side. He looked at her amusedly, knowing how to take her mother. Still, she brushed a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

“She’s already your mother-in-law, so all second thoughts are too late already. And for the record, if we get divorced, you can have my mom, but I want your dad.”

Oliver chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest tightly. His lips brushed against her forehead, and she could almost feel him an I love you whispering against her skin.

“Moira!” Donna’s excited squeal directed their attention back to her. “Our kids are together now. Or babies are having a baby.”

Finally, Moira seemed to realize that this really wasn’t a dream. She stepped towards Oliver and Felicity, reaching out her hands for them. Oliver and Felicity both placed a hand in one of Moira’s and looked at her expectantly.

“I couldn’t be prouder.”

That was all she said before she wrapped her arms around Felicity. Unlike her own mother, Moira was only touching her carefully like she was afraid that she could break her. She stroked a hand over the back of Felicity’s head and down her back, the same way she had already done when Felicity had still been a child.

“Oliver couldn’t have chosen anyone better,” Moira told her, “and I couldn’t be happier to call you my daughter, even legally now. You are going to be a great mom.”

Moira pulled back just enough to look at Felicity’s face. She brushed her fingers through her hair, looking at her intensely. Felicity almost felt like time was passing right in front of Moira’s eyes. It was like she saw her when she had still been a kid and had just entered the Queen Mansion after being taken away from her home one moment. Then, the next moment, a thousand different images of Felicity as she had seen her through the years were showing in front of her eyes. Eventually, it seemed to have come back to the woman in front of her though, her daughter-in-law.

“Thank you,” Felicity said, not knowing what else to say.

Moira smiled at her, brushing her fingers against her cheek for a moment. She turned toward her son then, pulling him into a tight hug too.

“Congratulations, Oliver,” she whispered and kissed his cheeks. “I admit that I wasn’t always happy with the decisions you made, especially when it came to women, but this is something I don’t only approve to but support with all of my heart. I think it makes all the wrong decisions before irrelevant. After all, it led you to where you have always been supposed to be.”

“I made the big hit,” Oliver said, his eyes locked with Felicity’s as he said that. “She’s the jackpot.”

“Yes, she is,” Moira agreed.

As soon as his mother took a step back from Oliver, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back against him once more. His arms wrapped around her waist and he bend her back like he had done before when they had revealed their relationship to the others. Just like then, he captured her lips in a gentle kiss that made Felicity sigh out against his lips.

Now that the secret was finally out of the bag, Felicity felt like a giant weight had been taken from the top of her chest. She hadn’t even been able to understand how much she had needed everyone important to her to know about her and Oliver. Only now, they weren’t living a dream anymore. They were living the truest of lives. Together.

Under the joint squeals of their mothers – a sound that Felicity had never believed could fall from Moira Queen’s lips – their lips parted. Oliver bumped his nose against hers playfully before he brought her back into an upright position. His lips brushed against hers once more, and he held out the flat palm of his hand.

“What-?”

Before Felicity could end her question, Oliver cocked his head. The look he shot her was enough for her to understand. She grinned, taking off the necklace and letting the three rings fall into the palm of Oliver’s hand. He quickly pushed his own wedding band onto his ring finger before he grabbed her ringers with his thumb and forefinger and pushed it down onto her finger. It seemed to be one of his favorite things to do now.

Smiling, Felicity straightened up onto the tip of her toes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him once more. Before her lips could brush against Oliver’s, her mother’s words distracted her though.

“Finally, our fondest hope for them came true.”

“It seems like all our attempts of marrying them off to each other were successful after all.”

“We both just knew what is best for them. We are their mothers after all. Mother’s always know best.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Moira nodded her head firmly. “I wished our kids were just a little less stubborn, so we could have planned their shared wedding these last months and not the weddings we did plan these last months.”

With a low grumble that only Oliver could hear, Felicity let her head drop against Oliver’s shoulder. He chuckled lowly in response and tightened his arms around her waist.

“We will never hear the end of it, will be?”

“No,” Felicity replied and sighed against his shoulder before she leaned her head back and looked at his face with a smile. “Wanna know the good thing about this, though?”

Oliver smiled back at her, and Felicity’s heart stumbled in response to how enamored he looked. She doubted that she would ever get used to the feeling it elicited from her when Oliver’s eyes were locked with hers. It made warmth and content spread in every cell of her body it seemed.

“What is it?” Oliver asked.

“We can roll our eyes about it together.”

At that, Oliver’s lips spread into an even wider smile. He lifted a hand and brushed the knuckles of his fingers against her cheek. Felicity leaned her face into the touch of his hand.

“Together,” he confirmed.

With that, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Felicity’s once more. Together was now the keyword to assure them happiness, just like it had always been. Only now they really knew how true it really was, and they would never forget it. Partly, because their mother probably wouldn’t allow them to forget it anyway.

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @arrowsalways @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @paarti12 @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @cutearrowgirl @mrt2501 @mecha1330 @arsipaci14 @mzminx @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @navyaarsha @fandoms-breathe-life @simone4mcswarek @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @itsmagnoliagirl @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @javinancupil @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @thats0klaroline @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @peterpanslostgirl666 @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @soaring-cities @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @felicity087 @i-claim-only-emily @pattid1 @westallenandolicityshipper @babyolicityandwestallen @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @olicity5ever @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @valery6488 @lemmyeatspeaches @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups

(If you want to be tagged or untagged, just let me know. :))

#arrow #olicity #olicity fanfic #olicity fic #Mothers know best

35 notes · View notes

ittakesrain · 4 years

Text

and now, an essay thing I have nowhere else to publish

One of my most vivid memories is of what happened one sunny April morning when I was sixteen. My parents had brought me to a random doctor’s office for a random appointment, and it pissed me off because I should have been in school. I should have been sitting in my AP chemistry class learning about radiation. It would require so much time to catch up on all of what I missed, and even though I was acing the class, the ever-present whispers of derisive thoughts emanating from my brain were particularly loud that day. Their volume increased until they were almost deafening, until I could barely hear the sound of blood rushing through my head, until I could barely concentrate on standing up, barely fight to stay on my feet as black spots clouded my vision. They told me everything would go to shit because I was going to fail chemistry and not get into college and never amount to anything. They told me I should have fucking been in class.

But instead, I was pacing in the waiting room of this strange, unfamiliar office, painfully cold as always despite my layers upon layers of clothing. I had my belt pulled tight, as it was the only thing holding my baggy 00 jeans onto my ghostly and withered body. I genuinely didn’t know why I was there, yet I had an overpowering feeling that something life-shattering was about to happen.

A nurse called me back. I followed her into an exam room. She instructed me to undress entirely and put on a gown. I did, and it finally hit me what was coming. Panicked apprehension coursed through my veins with every pained, frantic beat. She told me she had to get my height. I slid off the exam table to be measured, stood tall, steadying my shaky hands as they fell to my sides. Five feet.

Then, with nerves reaching an insurmountable level, she told me to stand on the scale. The heavy-duty, never-inaccurate, medical-grade scale. I stepped carefully onto it, as if I didn’t already know what it was going to say. A lifetime passed by in a second, my heart stopped as time froze. The machine beeped as it landed on what it had declared as my weight. I didn’t look, I didn’t look, I didn’t look. Nothing was happening. Don’t look, don’t look. But after I’d stood there forever and ever, holding the air in my lungs until it hurt, I looked at the nurse. She was staring at me. I breathed out. I looked at the scale. I sucked a lung-full of oxygen into my body involuntarily.

My heart leaped at the number, three pounds below what I’d last seen, and then plummeted into a free-fall. There was no derisive voice in my head telling me I wasn’t good enough. There was just a pitter-patter of words bouncing off the edges of my mind, echoing loudly between reverberating silence: Sick. Shame. Sick. Broken. Sick. Sick. Sick.

In the sheer terror of the moment, I had no idea how it had happened, how I’d gotten that way. But the truth was that I was nearly seventeen years old and I weighed sixty-five pounds. And at that point, I knew what I was doing and how I’d gotten that way.

It was simple in the most complex and intricate of ways: I had an eating disorder. And I’d had one for three years. It had been all I’d known for three long years. The gnawing, excruciating hunger that had long since dissipated into expansive internal emptiness. The bitter cold that lay so deep within me that it had settled permanently in my bones. The sheer, unrelenting anxiety, the weighted feeling of impending doom. I’d been trapped.

And in an eternity that lasted only three months, I was released into a freedom I hadn’t realized existed. I could write novels about what happened during those months, those wonderful, terrible, frightening, uncertain, beautiful months. And I will write those novels. But the point is that the identity I’d been chained to for so goddamn long would no longer be attached to me. Being reborn like that? It’s indescribable.

But it’s twelve years later. Twelve fucking years later. And I once again officially fall into the category of “someone with an eating disorder.” Instead of three years, it’s been three months. Instead of being grossly underweight, I’m just 25 or so pounds lighter. But the thoughts, the fears, the discomfort...it’s all there. Again. As if no time has passed. I’m afraid of jelly. I’m afraid. Of fucking. Jelly. I’ve arbitrarily attached emotion to jelly as if the main ingredient of the stuff is “paralyzing anxiety.”

I hate it. I hate that I’m doing this again.

It’s different now, though. I just keep telling myself to “cut the shit.” I’ve done it before. I’m no longer in the dark. I have knowledge. I’m well aware that I can be released into freedom, that the chains holding me to this identity are nothing compared to the supernova of resilience powering all that I am. But I feel too far gone. It scares me.

Not to mention, as I’m ashamed to admit, that I like my body better now. Superficial as it maybe be, it’s a relief to have gotten rid of all the weight I’d gained after getting on the new meds (which, by the way, are a literal gift from whatever god might be up there). I know I shouldn’t like the weight loss, but I do. I have a sick pride in it, just like how I’m stupidly proud of the fact that I was 65 fucking pounds two months before turning 17. With that at least it was because, after three years of suffering, that number was all I had to show for it. But now? I don’t know what the deal is. I guess it’s just nice to be able to be good at something again.

It probably also has to do with control again, with how I desperately want it. It just isn’t making me feel any closer to that elusive concept anymore. Like, why is it that when I’m waging war with myself over the simple act of sitting down to eat, I never have control over the outcome?

It probably has to do with how I was bored. How I wanted to be distracted, wanted something to focus on. How I was morbidly curious.

It probably has to do with the low self-esteem I’ve begun to wear even though it doesn’t feel right on me.

I keep telling myself that I just “went at this a little too hard.” That it was really just an attempt to lose weight gone wrong because my brain naturally just jumps to this shit when life gets stressful. A result of the fact that I’ve never known any sort of middle ground in regards to anything. I’ve never understood healthy dieting. If you want to lose weight, why not just stop eating altogether? It’s a miswired translation code in my head. I’ve never been able to fix it. I’ve only ever worked around it.

Maybe that’s the problem: I never got around to rewiring everything.

When I write, it’s to give people something they can read to understand something. Something they can read to be dragged down to the depths of my mind and come out with my feelings and desires, as fucked up and crazy as they might be, as souvenirs. I don’t think many people need to visit hell, though. I think it’s enough for me to do so.

Maybe writing this will help me rewire. Maybe afterward I’ll remember even more vividly how fucking insanely disgusting my eating disorder was at its peak. Maybe I’ll drag myself down to the depths of my former mind, the mind I used to try like mad to learn an entirely new way of looking at things, processing things, and understanding things. The mind I used to smash the title of “anorexic” into so many pieces that it no longer lingered above my head and next to my name.

I can’t fathom where in the fuck to start. But if my brain is made of wires, the wires are reduced to words. So let’s just call this a beginning.

#personal #thoughts #ed recovery #ed thoughts #eating disorder #eating disorder thoughts #anorexia

5 notes · View notes

platonicone · 4 years

Text

Devotion - Story of the Oracle and her Shield

Chapter 22 - Chains that binds us

Why is the price for doing the right things always pain? I wonder…

The Naga attacked, but the shield held it off. Instead of attacking again, the Naga started circling them patiently waiting for an opening.

Luna was quickly running out of energy and her barrier would disappear any second now. She knew the end was nigh.

A swooshing sound cut through the air and a spear impaled the Naga.

“Sorry, I am late,” said a familiar voice. Luna finally smiled upon hearing that voice.

“Aranea!” Luna had never been happier to see her.

Aranea leaped high and unleashed another powerful attack on Naga. Not wanting to fight two on one again, the Naga slither away.

“Are you okay, Luna?” Aranea asked, walking towards her.

“Thanks to you, now I am,” she replied happily. “How did you even find me here?”

“I had some help for Gentiana,” Aranea admitted while using an elixir on Luna. “My, my, who do we have here?” she wondered, looking at a man being cradled by Luna.

“He is Leon,” Luna said. Aranea just arched an eyebrow wanting to know more. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say he is a friend.”

“Just a friend? I wouldn’t say that by the way you are holding him,” she remarked with a wink.

“I think we should get out of here first and talk later?” Luna proposed.

“Are we taking him with us as well?”

“We can’t just leave him here. That would be cruel, don’t you think?”

Aranea saw Biggs and Wedge entered the scene from the corner of her eye. “What’s wrong with him? Why is he asleep in the middle of a battlefield?” Aranea inquired.

“I don’t know. I woke up and found him unconscious,” Luna replied.

Aranea kneeled down to check his pulse. “His pulse is weak.”

“Lady A and Lady Lunafreya, are you okay?” asked Biggs, closing in.

“Yes, but we have a guest who is not okay. We need to carry him out of here,” Aranea summed up the situation.

“Leave it to us, Lady A,” assured Biggs.

The whole entourage made their way towards the exit. Aranea clearing the path as the rest followed behind.

They were greeted at the entrance by Gentiana. “It is good to see the lady survive the trial of Ramuh.”

“Thank you, Gentiana, for bringing Aranea here on time. Without her aid, I wouldn’t be here.”

“She was already looking for you, I just pointed her in the right direction,” Gentiana replied with her eyes closed. “What happened to the visitor? Is he okay?”

"No, he is not okay. I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” she said with sadness evident on her face.

“He is not okay now, but he will be,” Aranea said reassuringly. “We need to go now.”

“Where are we to go?” asked Luna.

“Your brother dear was worried sick about you so he had sent me to find you and bring you back to Tenebrae. Based on a recent shift in weather we knew that Astral must be involved, and that meant you must be involved as well. We knew you were in this area in general, so we had the patrol set up. But it was Gentiana who showed us your actual location,” recapped Aranea.

“Hold on, why are we going back to Tenebrae? I need to go to Altissia to awaken the Hydrean.” Luna protested.

“Lady Lunafreya, your mortal body will not survive another covenant in this state. You need to recover your strength before you take on another Astral,” Gentiana said, even before Aranea could get a word in.

“Besides, I am under a strict order from your brother dear to bring you back to Tenebrae. Like it or not, that is what I intend to do,” Aranea said with her military tone.

“No, I need to go to Altissia. I don’t care what happens to me. It is my duty to awaken the Hydrean,” she refused stubbornly.

“The Empire knows that you are on the move. They have ordered the army to swipe through the entire Lucis to find you. It is not safe for you here anymore. Moreover, they know that you will go to Altissia to awaken the Hydrean so they have shut down all maritime and air travel to Altissia. Tenebrae is the last place they would expect you to be. You must return there at least until we find an alternative route to get you to Altissia.”

“But--” she said hesitantly before being cut off by Aranea, “Also, your friend needs a doctor’s attention so Tenebrae is your only choice at this point.”

“Fine,” she surrendered. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Biggs and Wedge will escort us to the train station. We’ll take a transcontinental railway, Magna Fortia, to Tenebrae.”

After looking at Leon, Luna inquired, “Can’t we just take the airship? It would be much quicker that way.”

“Unfortunately, that is not an option. All the ships were deployed to Lucis. If one ship suddenly makes the trip to Tenebrae then it would raise suspicion,” Aranea reasoned.

“Oh, I see,” she said with a hint of disappointment. “My life is in your hands, lead the way.”

The entire area was shrouded with dark clouds and torrential rainfall drenched every inch of dry land. Ramuh had truly awakened.

Aranea, Gentiana, Luna, Leon, Biggs, and Wedge embarked on a journey towards Magna Fortia. Being under the protection of Aranea, Luna did not have to fear the Empire. After about half a day’s travel, using various modes of transportation, they finally arrived at the train station around midnight.

Biggs and Wedge hauled Leon to one of the passenger compartments. Luna decided to stay in the same compartment.

Aranea, after taking care of some important business, boarded the train at the last minute. Biggs and Wedge went back to man the airship and would continue to follow the assigned route.

At midnight, the train left the station. “Get rest, we can talk about everything tomorrow. There is a lot of catching up to do,” Aranea stated, standing by the door. “My cabin is next to yours. Don’t hesitate to wake me up if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Aranea. I really appreciate everything you have done for me.”

“Mention not. Rest well princess,” she said with a wave and made her way to her own cabin. Luna stood up and gently closed the door. She came back and looked at Leon, peacefully sleeping. Just looking at his scars and bruises filled her eyes with tears. She was too drained physically and mentally to process anything at this point, so she forcefully averted her eyes from him. She sat on her berth with her back flushed against the cabin wall. She retracted her legs closer and wrapped her hands around them and rested her head on it. She looked like a small child badly in need of a hug.

As the train ran along the tracks, the rhythmic sound it made was oddly soothing to her. A lot had happened today. She was happy that she forged a covenant with another Astral and was now one step closer to fulfilling her duty. However, she was hurt by the fact that she almost traded Leon’s life for it. It was an emotional roller coaster for her. Subtle metronomic movement of the train combined with rhythmic sound soon puts her to sleep. The lights in her cabin were still left on.

She slept like a baby for a couple of hours. The vision of Ramuh attacking Leon mercilessly started haunting her dream world. Her refusal to fight, the stab of betrayal in Leon’s eyes, him getting rid of his rubber hazmat suit to accept his fate, Leon’s limp body bouncing off the wall, the blood on his face, his scream of anguish, it all hunted her. Ramuh hurled the lightning and Luna screamed and looked away, it was that moment when she woke up with a scream. Her breath was shallow, heartbeat through the roof, and she was perfusing heavily. It took her brain some time to realize the difference between dream and reality.

She looked at the clock and it was a few minutes past 2 am. She got up to turn off the light and returned to her berth. She tried to go back to sleep, but it would not come so easily this time. After tossing and turning for almost half an hour, she decided to take a little stroll in the train, thinking that some fresh aid would help her calm down.

She quietly opened the door and stepped out of her cabin. Much to her surprise, she saw a familiar face leaning against the railing, looking out of the windows at the tiny lights from a distant town.

“The Lady cannot sleep?” Gentiana asked, without looking at her.

Luna joined her by the railing and looked out of the window. Even though it was dark, you could see the general terrain passing by. “Yes, sleep is rather elusive tonight.”

“The Lady has been through a lot. Her mortal body would require rest to recover,” she pointed out in a soothing voice.

“Yes, I am aware of that, but the body does not heal well with a weary mind and a broken heart.”

“Perhaps your familiar could be of any assistance?” she asked, finally opening her eyes and looking at Luna.

“Gentiana, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What might the lady mean?”

“I had no problem sacrificing myself for the sake of my duty, but now I have started to sacrifice others for it too. This is a burden I cannot bear.”

“And yet, you did.”

“And I feel like a monster for doing it. Every time Ramuh struck Leon, I had wished it was me. Every time I heard Leon’s scream, I prayed that I would feel his pain. But no matter how much I wished or prayed; the reality was that it was I who had put him in that situation to begin with. It’s not fair that he has to suffer so that I can fulfill my duty,” she said as tears streamed down from her face.

“The Gods work in mysterious ways. Humans don’t live long enough to face consequences for all their actions. Hence, their karma carries over to their next life. What might seem like senseless suffering of an innocent often has an untold and a justifiable history behind it. The visitor’s suffering was part of his redemption. While it may seem like it was caused by your own volition, rest assure that you were merely a catalyst in the process. Ironically, it is because of you that he passed his trial. In your absence, he would have succumbed to the darkness as he did last time.”

“While your words may ease my mind, my heart will forever be scared.”

“Human emotion is something I’ll never fully comprehend,” Gentiana confessed.

After a few quiet moments, Luna spoke again, “Gentiana, what do the Gods have against Leon? When we fought against the Titan he said, ‘The Fallen has risen? How? He was erased. Matters not, for he shall fall again.’ I thought it was strange that Titan said that, but now his words carry a meaning that I do not understand. Even Ramuh spoke at length on how Leon had defied the Gods last time. What exactly happened last time?”

“The Lady need not concern herself with the trivialities of the past,” she shot down her curiosity with the coldness of Shiva. The way she said it would send chills down the spine of an ordinary human.

“It is too much of a coincidence that his journey to redemption is the same as my journey towards my destiny. I can’t help but wonder if I was part of this ‘last time,’” Luna persisted, ignoring her cold response last time.

“The lady is very perceptive,” she replied with her eyes closed. Gentiana stood straight, opened her eyes and looked straight at Luna, “We refer to ‘last time’ as Omen. Omen was a failed timeline where the prophecy failed and the world was plunged into the darkness. He failed us all and for that he must repent. I am not at a liberty to speak beyond this.”

“What was my relationship with him?” she asked with boldness unseen in her eyes every before.

“I cannot answer that. You must look inside to seek the truth,” she said, placing a finger at Luna’s heart. “But I can tell you this. Your tale is as old as time itself. Your fates have been intertwined for eons. How will your story end this time? I too am curious to find out.”

Gentiana turned around and swiftly started walking in the opposite direction.

“Gentian!” Luna called from behind.

“Yes, my lady?” she paused in her steps.

“Thank you,” Luna said with a bow.

“Anything to put my lady’s heart at ease,” she said with her usual eyes closed. “My lady, your burdens are many and your sacrifices are numerous. But if anyone can deliver our Star from impending darkness to the eternal light, it is you. Never forget that.”

Luna nodded in acknowledgement.

“What happens to Leon?”

“I had warned you at Taelpar Rest Area that a great tragedy awaits you. How you come out of it, is up to you.” Before Luna could ask anything else, Gentiana disappearing into the thin air, leaving behind small particles of ice lingering in the place where she stood.

Author's notes:

Please leave a comment if you have enjoyed the story so far. Would love to chat with some of my readers. Or at least say 'Hi' so I know someone is readying this. Thanks :)

2 notes · View notes

moonlit-seren · 5 years

Text

One Last Time || Mark Lee x Reader

Summary: After a failed confession, y/n seeks out help from Mark knowing full well her best friend’s feelings towards her. Unable to turn her down, he allows her to use him as a rebound for the night despite knowing that he’ll only get hurt in the end.

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Slightly suggestive towards mature themes, I guess? Haha... I dOn’T kNoW wHat I wRoTe...

Word Count: 2.6k

Key:

Y/n- Your name

Y/b/n- Your bias name

(If your bias is Mark, which is understandable ;p, then substitute the name of your bias wrecker or secondary bias since most nctzens, like me, seem to have multiple biases)

A/N: This was inspired by all the cliche unrequited love imagines I’ve found littering Tumblr and Wattpad, that I can’t seem to prevent myself from reading despite knowing that I’ll want to cry a river afterwards lol.

꧁Masterlist꧂

Feelings can’t be controlled.

They dictate the way our lives progress over the years and the seemingly little decisions we make on a daily basis.

Even when they appear to be under control, the moment a small hiccup occurs the tranquil stability crumbles and disintegrates within seconds of instantaneous chaos. Whether it be a friendly smile from an attractive stranger or a vicious breakup after a happy two years.

Sometimes people get lucky and their romantic feelings immediately get reciprocated, but others pin after another for years only to get rejected over and over again.

Unfortunately, that’s the way of life. Some get fairytale endings while others are left with agonizing heartbreak.

Happy ever afters have always been elusive, if they even exist at all.

•

“I’m sorry, I don’t like you the same way.”

That was all it took for the misplaced hope in y/n’s chest to dissipate as if there was a black hole sucking away all of her happy emotions into the depths of her stomach.

Unrequited love is never easy to handle, some are able to move past it quickly but others are left holding it dear and tricking their minds into ignoring the fact that their feelings are one sided.

The silence that followed the stinging rejection was great enough to hear a pin drop and clank softly on the snow covered ground which felt like it was spinning beneath the girl’s feet.

Y/b/n smiled apologetically, whispering a quiet ‘goodnight’ and closing the door, unable to look at the hurt expression adorning his close friend’s face.

Y/n blinked slowing as a light gust swept into her eyes, acting as the catalyst unlocking the flood gates which held back her tears.

Years and years of quiet frustration hidden by fake smiles and hollow laughs seeped out of her puffy eyes, as her vision blurred and a dry laugh slipped from her swollen lips, riddled with invisible bite marks from the nerve wracking hours she spent pouring over how to confess to her long time crush.

Unable to stand there, where her heart had dropped into the depths of her stomach and shattered, y/n ran from the doorstep. The ground was slick with glistening ice making navigation incredibly difficult considering the fact that tears were already blurring her vision.

Not knowing what to do, or how to cope with the heart wrenching emotions swimming in her veins, the heartbroken girl ran to the one place she knew was always safe, to the one person she knew who would always love her despite her affections toward another.

“Mark…Mark open up…” shouted y/n desperately, ignoring all the half-concerned, half-annoyed looks she was getting from the few passerbyers walking around the neighborhood she currently found herself in.

The door swung open a couple of second later, preceding the soft thunks of worried footsteps from inside the apartment. Mark poked his head through the door, hair ruffled from having been woken up from a nap, and eyes heavy with sleepy confusion.

Upon seeing the tears streaming down y/n’s face, he sighed already knowing the reason behind her grief. “Come here.”

Gently tugging the girl forward by her wrist, Mark closed the door and pulling his best friend forward to wrap his arms securely around her shaking form.

Y/n sobbed quietly into his chest, hands bunching up the back of his shirt as her shoulders heaved up and down with every wave of tears.

Pulling back a little, Mark reached up to brush a stray tear off of y/n’s cheek despite knowing that it would quickly get replaced by another. He gently removed her hands and slipped one in his own before walking off towards his staircase.

Y/n silently trailed after him recognizing the familiar route towards his room. Even once they reached Mark didn’t let go and instead lied down on the mattress before pulling her down next to him so that she was facing him.

“Wanna talk about it?” He whispered, gently stroking the stray hairs off of y/n’s forehead as his eyes bore into hers with loving concern.

Letting out a shuddered breath, y/n shook her head slowly, snuggling herself further into the warmth of Mark chest as he enveloped his arms around her once more.

No words needed to be said as no explanation was necessary. The pair had been friends since childhood and were able to read each other's thoughts with a single glance alone.

And due to all the years they had been friends, it was inevitable for the platonic love felt by one of them to fester into something more. Unfortunately, it was Mark who had fallen prey to the sick games played by fate as it controlled his heart strings like an invisible puppeteer.

It didn’t take long for y/n to catch onto Mark’s newfound emotions, feeling his lingering gaze when he had thought she wasn’t looking, and the soft kisses he left on her forehead in what was meant to look like nothing more than the love shared between siblings.

It was hard acting oblivious to the sweet smiles and hidden signs he sent her on a daily basis, as she didn’t want to hurt him in any way, shape, or form.

Maybe it was selfish for her to continue drinking in his affection like a morningly cup of coffee without reciprocating anything, actually, scratch that, it was selfish for her to bask herself in the gentle warmth he extruded but she couldn’t do anything even if she wanted to.

Her heart already belonged to another. Y/n didn’t know when it started, perhaps it was when y/b/n lent her his coat when she had forgotten her own a few months ago, or even at first glance like all the cliches.

Regardless, she was utterly smitten by him the same way Mark was smitten by her. It’s cruel had destiny had played out, leaving the two friends drowning in unreciprocated feelings and heartbreak.

It was moments like these where y/n’s heart stung the most, seeing the never ending love swimming in Mark’s eyes but she couldn’t help but be selfish as all humans are flawed.

“Why are you in love with me?” Asked y/n, finally addressing the elephant in the room, despite knowing that things would only spiral downhill from there.

Mark flinched a little at her bluntness, blinking slowly as he quickly stuttered out a rehearsed answer in denial. “W-well, you’re my best friend of cours-”

“Cut the bull crap,” y/n cut in, knowing that he knew exactly what she meant.

Mark sighed, exhaling deeply as if to mentally prepare himself for the unavoidable conservation he knew was bound to follow the first question.

“How am I not supposed to?” He replied softly, a rarely seen sad smile adorning his lips as his fingers started to absentmindedly draw small circles on y/n’s back through the worn, cotton material of her shirt.

“Just the sight of you brightens up my entire world and don’t get me started on the beautiful melody of your laugh, I swear I could listen to it all day like a broken record on repeat. Only a fool would be blind enough to miss the radiant perfection that makes up the unique masterpiece that is you,” he continued, overwhelmingly confident in the truth behind his answer because that’s exactly how he felt.

Y/n’s eyes softened in guilt as she asked the other question that has been plaguing her mind despite already knowing the answer to it. “Doesn’t it hurt at all?”

“Maybe, but I can’t force you to feel the same way,” he responded with an almost fragile smile, feeling bare as all the secret feelings he keep suppressed and hidden shakily slipped out into the open.

Something inside the girl broke a little more at Mark’s honestly, as all coherent thoughts slipped from her mind and she was left with her consciousness muddled with overwhelming irrationality.

If anyone asks what’s the strongest thing in the world that intoxicates a person into not being function logically the obvious answer would be alcohol or drugs, but they’d be wrong.

It’s emotions.

Whether it be the unforgiving fires of rage or the exhilarating bliss of happiness, they leave us blinded to the consequences of our actions until we plummet and crash from the euphoric high and are left to face brutal reality.

“Then lie to yourself,” y/n whispered, pulling back slightly to stare into Mark’s eyes. His face morphed in confusion, brows furrowing even more as y/n reached up to cradle his cheeks in her hands. “Tell yourself that I feel the same way. Be selfish for once.”

Mark’s eyes widen at the her words, reaching up to clasp his own hands around hers. He gently pulled them off, shaking his head with a sad smile. “You’re not yourself right now, sleep here, I’ll take the couch.”

But before he was able to get up, y/n quickly protested by pushing his shoulder down so that he was now laying on his back. Mind clouded with a drunken desperation, she swung her leg over his waist, sitting up so that she was straddling his hips. “No. Please, I’ve handled enough rejection today. Help me, just for tonight.”

“Y/n-” he began to protest, heart throbbing in his chest as y/n’s eyes watered again at the mention of her failed confession. He knew that she wasn’t thinking straight but didn’t know how to snap her out of her dark reverie.

“Just for tonight,” she begged leaning down so that her nose was only a millimeter from his. Her eyes boring into his, pleading as if he were the executioner beside her chopping block. Except it wasn’t her neck lined up with the ginting steel blade, but her heart.

The flimsy walls Mark threw up came crashing down at the broken expression y/n was wearing, hands gently reaching up to cup her face the same way she had only moments ago to him.

“I’m sorry, for no longer having the strength to stop this,” Mark sighed out gently bringing her closer so that their lips were nearly brushing. “But if you ever want me to, tell me and I will.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” y/n whispered back sealing the gap.

•

The sun filtered weakly through the blinds, bestowing it’s soft morning glory upon the littered articles of clothing lying hazardously around the room.

Near silent snores filled the peaceful atmosphere, stifling as a soft yawn replaced the sleepy constant.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open, gazing absentmindedly at the ceiling as he tried to blink out the sleepiness in them.

His mind seemed to function in slow motion, still thick with early morning haze as he started to recall the events of last night.

From the lustful and empty kisses, to discarded clothing and sweet, sweet lies. Each puzzle piece slowly clicked together as the full story unraveled inch by agonizing inch.

Groaning a little as the memories were being processed, something undeniably important started nagging at the back of Mark’s mind.

And moments later, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Y/n.

The soft creme sheets suddenly felt wrong on his bare skin as he realized what was missing. Or rather who he had forgotten about.

The unusual silence was explained when Mark turned around seeing nothing more than a neon pink post it note laying beside him.

Fear and dread crept up in his chest as his eyes landed on the messily scribbled message, which had most likely having been hastily thrown down before a swift escape

And unfortunately, he had every right to be afraid of it’s contents.

“Dear Mark,

I’m sorry for leaving so soon but I didn’t want you to expect anything from me if I had stayed. It wouldn’t have been fair for me to lead you on, not that I have been very fair to you lately. You’re the funniest, sweetest, most caring person in the entire universe and deserve someone so much better than a selfish, broken girl like me. I refuse to let myself be a set back in your promising life. Please move on and find your true happiness with another woman because I guarantee it isn’t with me. Thank you for being my best friend for so many years and for always being there. I love you and goodbye.

-y/n

“Goodbye,” Mark read aloud, eyes wide with a mixture of hurt, shock, and sadness. The word left a bitter and foreign taste in his mouth, for it had always been a taboo term between the two of them

Goodbyes seemed too permanent, as the pair were always confident that they’d see each other again. And farewells were habitually littered with ‘see you later’ or even a quick ‘Till next time’.

Suddenly, the reassuring feeling of knowing that they’d meet again didn’t feel as solid anymore. After all, goodbye meant forever in y/n and Mark’s vocabulary.

Something cool and wet slipped down the smooth expanse of Mark’s cheek, preceding a barrage of salty tears which trekked down the grief stricken lines of his face.

It already hurt enough being constantly rejected by the one who he truly loved, but now there was an added feeling of loneliness thrown into the chaotic mess that Mark felt in what remained of his once battered, but whole, heart.

And the agonizing feeling of abruptly being left alone felt like a pair of invisible hands choking out the last of his will to seek happiness or even to live.

All of a sudden Mark felt like the vulnerable teenager he was back in high school again, facing his very first heartbreak when he deluded himself into believing that he liked the prettiest girl in his grade in order to stop thinking about y/n.

It worked at first, and two long months had miraculously passed before that girl finally started to notice her boyfriend’s lingering glances at his best friend.

But regardless of his feelings for y/n, it had still hurt when his first love broke off their short relationship. And like that day many years ago, Mark once again found himself curled up in a ball under his covers, nose red and stuffy, and vision blurred with tears.

Though the pain of that heartbreak was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to over a decade of relentlessly pursuing someone who had never more than a foot away. Someone who’s heart felt like it was seas apart from his own.

If Mark could turn back time he would’ve done anything he could to prevent himself from falling for his best friend, even if it meant never having become friends in the first place or having said that first ‘hi’.

But no matter how hard he wished to go back to the past, nothing would happen. After all, humans were never blessed with the ability to control time just like how not everyone was blessed with that perfect romance found in story books.

There are no fairy godmothers in the real world, no kind hearted maidens who don’t care about appearances, no midnight balls where fated soulmates meet for the first time. Life is not a fairytale and dreams don’t always comes true.

But despite knowing that, Mark whispered out his final wish, letting the tear filled words linger hopelessly in the air.

“Come back to me, love...”

“I need you in my life…”

“Please…”

“Lie to me again…”

“One last time.”

#nct #mark #mark lee #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2018 #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #angst #nct mark imagine #nct mark oneshot #nct mark fanfic

2 notes · View notes

ladyjafar · 6 years

Text

Prologue – Summer of 2008, Istanbul, Turkey.

Ja’far never understood why he felt so pulled to Suleiman's Mosque. Ever since he was a little boy, every time he visited his grandmother, they always took a trip to the famous mosque built by the Ottoman Empire’s greatest sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent.

It was always the first and last thing he did, almost like he was saying hello and then goodbye to a place he had known before. But neither he or his parents had an explanation for it. Ja’far always got depressed leaving Istanbul, whenever the plane flew over the place he loved the most in the city besides his grandparent’s historical home in the heart of the bustling, ancient city quarter near the Topkapi Palace.

Every other summer – or when he decided – he always came to visit Nilüfer and his grandfather, who was also named Sulieman. He always loved being picked up by either of them, and carried around and hugged as a small child.

Years had passed since his parent’s death, and he was thirteen years old. At six, he had lost them both to a tragic fire that killed them both when he was visiting his grandparents in the summer. As a result, he was devastated.

Since they didn’t want to separate him from the country he grew up in, they allowed Hinahoho and Rurumu – very dear friends of Ibrahim and Sorcha – to adopt their grandson. Ja’far wasn’t unhappy, but at the same time he missed his parents very much and always had them in his own thoughts.

It was the summer before freshman year of high school, and Ja’far had been raised up a level and skipped the eighth grade entirely. His teachers sang praises for his academic work, and he smiled just thinking about going home and starting school, and meeting new people. Mystras, of course, would be in the same grade since he was an eighth grader when he was in seventh grade, as would Hakuei and Drakon. But his other friends would stay behind in middle school, much to his pain.

It was a late summer’s day, and his grandmother had cooked a good dinner for them both, since Suleiman would be working a little later than usual. It was his favorite, fish straight from the Black Sea with some saffroned rice and cooked lentils. He munched down happily on it.

"Ja'far, from the moment you were born, I knew your fate was already decided, like it has been in lifetimes before."

Emerald green eyes looked up from his dinner, the young teen curious. "Grandma, what do you mean?"

At thirteen years old, Ja'far was the spitting image of his long deceased mother Sorcha, Nilüfer thought with a pained look. Sorcha was her daughter in law, and easily one of the most beautiful women that Nilüfer had ever seen. Her grandson, Ja'far, inherited those delicate Celtic features, her pale blond hair, and stunning green eyes that seem to look into a person's very soul. Since he was a child, he had seen more than the human eye could. Nilüfer was sure he had the gift of second sight, albeit untrained, unlike her own gift.

Sometimes it pained her. She knew her youngest son would die if he moved away from Turkey, but it was his fate, as it was Sorcha's. She could not prevent that.

And now, she knew her grandson would face misery in his life time, but this time, he could keep it from happening, and possibly live the happily ever after he hadn't gotten in his last lives.

"There will be a man who will change your world, Ja'far. You will know him on sight, for he has lived with you before in other times, in other places. Your fate has bound you to him, for at a time, you were both apart of the same flow of energy, and each time you meet, it either will end in chaos or happiness. Before this, you were never happy - but this time." her eyes had taken on an almost eerie glow, blue eyes turning into a bright shimmering silver.

Ja'far had paled. Other lives? Chaos? Pain?

"Grandma?" he said, tone fearful. Her eyes focused back on him.

"This time, you can keep the king of your heart from destroying himself and others. He is a dominant creature that has always been the adventurer, the paragon in his very soul. You must not hasten to weaken for him, for each time it has ended in his death and your sorrow. Become his anchor, and he shall not be quick to folly as he has been before. His rash behavior is because of you fighting your own fate. Do not fight it, flow with it."

And with this, she had fallen into a dead faint on the floor.

Ja’far panicked, and he got down to check her pulse. It was strong, and she was breathing normally again, but she was asleep.

“Ja’far? What happened?” he looked up to see his grandfather, worried but trying not to show it in front of his grandson.

“S-she had a vision, and fell into a swoon.” he was choking back tears, from being scared or relieved his grandfather was there, he wasn’t too sure.

He sighed with obvious relief. “She’ll be fine, my grandson. Just needs some rest after she has her visions and you know it.” Suleiman picked his wife up – at sixty five years old she was still slim as a young woman, and still had a full head of deep, blue black hair.

“Eat the rest of your dinner, and I’ll join you. She’s left me something to eat as well, and you’ll tell me what she saw.”

Ja’far nodded numbly, not even sure he could eat the rest of his dinner.

King of your heart. Ja’far never revealed it, but he has had odd dreams where he was scurrying down a corridor, wearing robes that were far lighter than they looked.

And always, someone calling his name. It was a masculine voice, one that sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it.

Or sometimes, the dreams were in a tropical forest where he was running after someone during the night, laughter on the wind, and when he reached for the person’s back, he would wake up, the elusive, heady scent of the forest around him even after awaking.

Was that the man that his grandmother talked about? His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sun sinking into the waters of the Sea of Marmara beyond the window. The sound of laughter, the city at night and the smells from other homes didn’t faze him in his thoughts.

Who was he? The person who haunted his dreams and sometimes his waking thoughts. His heart almost hurt thinking about it, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

“She’s tucked into bed.” the sound of Suleiman’s voice startled his grandson out of his thoughts, and he refocused his eyes on him when he came back into the room. He settled across from the far younger man, his own plate on the table. A small cup of coffee was in his hand, and he placed it in front of Ja’far with a small smile.

“Baba?” Ja’far said with a small voice, and it made Suleiman’s eyebrow quirk.

“You haven’t called me Baba since you were very young, my little lion. Are you alright?” he reached over and placed his hand on Ja’far’s forehead, feeling to see if he was sick. Ja’far smiled weakly, the warm hand a comfort to him when he was a little shaky.

“Grandma had a vision of my… my past lives.” Suleiman’s eyes widened just the tiniest bit, but he didn’t say anything, silently encouraging his grandson to talk.

“She mentioned a man that will change my life, that I’m bound to for eternity. I have to change his fate for him – since it seems in other lifetimes I fought against my own. Almost as if….” he put his hand to his face in thought.

“…. as if I was too weak to tell him no.”

Suleiman nodded. “Ja’far, are you aware of the idea of kismet?”

The younger man shook his head in the negative.

“Kismet means fate in the old language, in it’s simplest form. It comes from Arabic in its roots. My grandmother always told me, nothing happens for no reason. Your fate – your kismet – is written on your forehead. If you fought against it, it could cause problems in one life into the next one.”

He seemed surprised, but he stayed quiet. Suleiman seemed worried since Ja’far, normally pale, was almost as white as a sheet of paper. But he kept on going.

“Some souls are bound to others, as your grandmother told you. Some live many lives, even hundreds, but only remember a few. Your soul either can go onto the afterlife if what you have done is completed, but if you have unfinished business, you are reborn, and live another life trying to finish what you started. It seems, my darling grandson, you need to save someone – and save yourself – from heartache before you can truly move on.” he smiled.

“Many people would tell me I’m either insane or heretical, depending on if a person believes in science or religion. But my grandmother, my mother, and your grandmother have always held onto that belief. Even in ancient Ireland, where your mother’s parents descend from, have a belief that the soul recycles itself into another life. It’s not an unusual idea, and not a new one.”

“If – If I find this person, what will happen?”

“Who knows, my lion. Maybe you will fix everything, maybe you will fail. But try your hardest to fight to fix your own fate, no matter what the person you are bound to does. Guide him in the right direction – I have a feeling this time around he will listen to you if you try hard enough.”

“I don’t know his name, and he’s already turned my life upside down.” Ja’far put his head on his arms, grumbling. Suleiman laughed.

“That’s the grandson I know and love. Be stubborn as a bull, and it will turn out alright. I have a feeling whoever he is, he won’t be able to cause harm this time around. You have your mother’s stubborn nature, but your father’s quick mind. They’d both be proud of you, I know it.” Suleiman ruffled Ja’far’s already messy light blond hair, and the boy just pouted at him.

“Baba! My hair is already chaotic, I don’t need you adding to it!”

Suleiman let out a hearty laugh, and Ja’far couldn’t help but let his own silvery laughter follow it into the night.

Autumn 2011, Hillsboro, Oregon.

“I cannot believe we’re already at our junior year.” Hakuei Ren squealed. “Two more years to go, and I can ditch this place. I’ll miss Lady Scheherazade, and a few other teachers like Mr. Ugo, but that’s about it.” At sixteen years old, Hakuei was the star of the drama department, with her wonderful acting skills and beautiful singing voice. Her parents wanted her to pursue a business career, since it was the family business, but all she wanted to do was sing on Broadway. She wouldn’t tell her family that, however, and took business classes to satisfy them so they would allow her to continue taking drama and being in school plays.

She was one of Ja’far’s best friends next to Mystras Leoxses, one of the baseball team’s best pitcher and batter. He was one of the few jocks that talked to Ja’far like he wasn’t a freak, and they even dated in the past. Ja’far still had the letterman jacket Mystras gave him their sophomore year of high school.

And there was also Drakon and his girlfriend Saher. Both huge high fantasy nerds, they always had dungeons and dragons games in the cafeteria when they had their hour lunch. They formed a bit of a ragtag group with other “outcasts” and weirdos, including Hakuei’s girlfriend Serendine, who was a childhood friend of Drakon’s, and Mystras’ younger brother Spartos, who was just as gay as Ja’far was. There were others, but Ja’far didn’t talk to them much even though they were in the club he was president of.

Well. Ja’far was the founder of the schools first “lgbt” club, a place for those who knew – or were questioning – their identities, and could talk to someone in a safe space without the fear of being outed or made fun of. He realized at a young age he wasn’t what people considered normal, since he was mainly attracted to men and never conformed to the typical idea of what gender was.

At fifteen, Ja’far was an advanced placement student who was well on his way to being valedictorian of his class. Many thought it was because he was extremely smart. He was, he wouldn’t lie about it to please anyone. But he was also a hard worker that wanted to get into a good university to study archaeology. He was fascinated with the history of the world, and he more than wanted to work with people all over to find new things and learn more about the world.

“You’ve scooched by without getting your aunt Arba as a teacher, too.” Ja’far teased his friend. Arba wasn’t a very well liked teacher at the school, since she was super strict in all of her classes. She was a the only AP chemistry teacher besides Ugo, who was also an advanced math teacher and the opposite of Arba, very well liked by everyone. Even if he was a huge dork and had a hard time talking to female teachers. Arba also taught most lower science classes and calculus, but tended to favor her advanced placement students and had a hard time helping students who had issues with the complex matters understand them.

“I hope I never get her for calculus next year. Precalc with Setta will be easy.” Hakuei smiled.

“He’s great! I had him freshman year. I took honors math in seventh grade so when I skipped up that grade, they let me take precalc with him. I liked Mr. Ugo for calculus and advanced chemistry, he makes it fun. And when we went on a field trip to Portland State last year, his friend Professor Solomon – he hates being called his last name so he let us call him his first name, which was weird since that’s basically my grandfather’s name – almost blew the lab up. He and Mr. Ugo were blue for weeks.” Ja’far let out a laugh. Hakuei grinned.

“She never tells anyone why, but she doesn’t seem to like Mr. Ugo, or whenever he brings up Professor Solomon or his wife Sheba and their four month old kid. She gets this nasty look on her face like she’s eaten something rotten or whatever.” Mystras put in. He had the bad fate to end up with her for chemistry one his sophomore year.

“Mr. Ugo subbed for first period when she called in sick, because last year he didn’t have a class first thing in the morning. I think that was the first time I had fun in that class, honestly. He brought them up and when a student mentioned it the next day, she got super pissed and it ended up with the poor girl getting a detention for ‘talking out of turn’.” Mystrasl looked annoyed. “Old bat. She’s too sour for her own good.”

“I hope she never hears you say that, Mys.” Ja’far leaned onto his dearest friend with a smile. “She’d get you in trouble.”

“Psssh. She can’t do nothin’.” he smiled engagingly at Ja’far, and he couldn’t help but give a faint giggle, which did nothing but encourage the red-haired teen.

“Cutest sound in the world when you giggle. Can I get more out of you?” he wriggled his fingers, and Ja’far backed away warily.

“Mystras it’s almost time for lunch to be over, please don’t.” he was still laughing, more out of how silly Mystras looked, hands out, fingers wiggling around a little bit. He was taller than most in the group, and a little more muscled by virtue of his hobbies, but with the almost evil grin on his face, it made him look so ridiculous that Ja’far couldn’t help but double over and weaken with laughter.

The bell rang, and an almost mass exodus of students got up from the tables, groaning and grumbling about going back to class.

“SAVED BY THE BELL!” Ja’far picked his book bag up, his jacket and tea mug and dashed away, much to Mystras’ grumblings of “No fair!”

Ja’far’s next class was advanced placement Middle Eastern history, a new class that was put in this year. It was more or less a test class, and Ja’far was more than excited for it. It got the required minimum of 100 students enrolled in the class, and -

His train of thought was cut off the moment he stepped outside, and a football landed square in his chest, knocking the breath out of him, and to the ground where he hit his head. A shout and some yelling followed as he fell to the ground, on the verge of a black out. Darkness seemed to seep up into his line of vision, eyes dazed when he saw a teen lean over him in worry, profusely apologizing for hitting him with a ball.

What didn’t make him black out was the football, it was the person swimming in his darkening vision. Dark skin, bright gold eyes and purple hair.

“Sinbad.” the name slipped unbidden into his mind. He didn’t know the person who was currently rushing him to the nurses office, since Ja’far could hardly walk himself. Whoever he was, he was trying to keep him awake until he got there, with the fear of a concussion on his mind, he tried to force his eyes open.

“What’d you do to him, dude?” a familiar voice came to his ears – that kid, Tess? He was on the football team and was rather kind to everyone, even him. Once Tess even fought off some bullies that tried to hurt Ja’far when he was a freshman.

“I tossed the ball too far and it hit him in the chest, hard. He fell to the ground and hit his head, hard. I’m not even sure he’s awake.”

“I-I am.” Ja’far managed to force out. Golden eyes looked down to him and he smiled weakly.

“I’m sorry.” He was, thankfully, long legged so he made it to the nurses office in a short amount of time. Ja’far was almost clinging to the boy, and due to his disoriented state, which the nurse was distressed at.

“Ja’far, honey, let the poor guy go, you’re strangling him.” Falan, the school nurse, tried to pry Ja’far off of the taller teen and succeeded.

“What happened?” she felt Ja’far’s forehead, took his pulse and checked other signs. Falan was a registered nurse and had some pretty cool – and legit – equipment in the school’s health office. A blood pressure sleeve was on his upper arm at the moment, trying to register it.

“Well...” the older teen looked sheepish. “I threw a football too hard and it hit him in the chest and knocked him over.”

“It was… an accident...” Ja’far said weakly. “Head hurts.”

“Do you feel tired?” Falan, with Sinbad’s help, got Ja’far to sit up.

“Only a little.” strength was flowing back into his body, and the blackness was going away. Falan looked relieved.

“No concussion, at least from what I can tell. Can you stand?”

Ja’far swung his legs over the bed he had been placed on, and even though he felt a little off, it went away quickly.

“Your balance seems fine. No nausea? Fuzzy vision?”

“I did at first, but not anymore, just a headache.”

“Hmm. I’m going to send you home. I know.” she saw the protest in Ja’far’s eyes rising. “It’s only the first day of school and you want to stay and go to all of your classes. But missing the first day won’t hurt you any, Ja’far. Have Mr. Akhtar escort you to the office, Ja’far.”

The kid had to have a name other than that. “First name?” Ja’far said in a confused tone.

“Sinbad.” Falan laughed.

“Here, let me get your bag. Good lord, this is heavy! How does a skinny kid like you carry all this?”

Sinbad. His name was the one that was trapped in his mind, and suddenly, all those dreams, of hot and steamy nights, a forest overlooking a vast, turquoise colored sea and even feelings of his own heart breaking in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. The sound of someone’s voice calling his name, almost as if he was being summoned to somewhere beyond this time and place -

“Ja’far? Ja’far!” the boy waved his hand in front of his face. “We need to get you to the office. You’re lucky I have a free period and no class.” He tossed a winning smile at the nurse.

“R-right.” when he felt Sinbad’s hand on his elbow, in an effort to help him along, he almost jumped back with a yelp. It startled him. He couldn’t fathom why, but the words his grandmother told him so long ago came back to haunt him.

“There will be a man who will change your world, Ja'far. You will know him on sight, for he has lived with you before in other times, in other places. Your fate has bound you to him, for at a time, you were both apart of the same flow of energy, and each time you meet, it either will end in chaos or happiness.”

“Do not fight your fate.”

“You’re rather quiet.” his voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You seemed noisy in the cafeteria when I was there at the beginning of lunch.”

“I also got hit in the chest and knocked over.” He said with a touch of dry humor. “Are you in the habit of people watching then?”

Sinbad grinned. “That’s more like it. You’re feistier than you let on.”

That, for some reason, annoyed the shorter teen. “You barely know me.”

“Seems like I’ve known you forever if I can annoy you so easily.”

There it was, a simple statement with a complex meaning behind it. Confusion ran rampant in Ja’far’s head. Did he feel it too? Or was it an innocent statement taken out of context by him?

“Can your parents pick you up? If not, I could probably take you home. I only have two classes after this and I can blow ‘em off easily. Parents let me borrow the family car for school today instead of my normal ride.” Ja’far’s eyebrow quirked up.

“You so sure your parents would let you ditch school?” Ja’far’s comment was met with a laugh.

“I have two free periods then two last periods. One’s just gym and the other is just a business elective.” he shrugged.

“Ah, so you’re probably going to be in the same class as Hakuei.” Ja’far opened the office door, and asked if he could call his mother, Rurumu. One short phone conversation and she gave her permission for him to leave school.

“Can you come get me?” he asked her. There was a short sigh on the phone.

“Unfortunately I can’t, since I’m about to head into a meeting and your father is abroad right now. Is there a way you can get home or at least stay at the nurses office until I am able to?”

“Someone offered me a ride...”

“If its alright with the school, I would say take it. I’ll write a form later if need be for it, but I am pretty sure my word will work just as well.”

After having a conversation with the front office worker, Irene, Ja’far was released to go home.

“You’re stuck with me, then.” he grinned, overhearing the conversation. Ja’far rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure I want you knowing my address.” Ja’far snipped with humor. Sinbad waved the semi-insult off.

“Nurse Falan would kill you if you stayed at school with a possible head injury. You need rest more than anything at the moment. C’mon, follow me. My car is parked in the student parking lot.”

The early September air was crisp with the coming cold, and when it hit Ja’far in the face he felt much better than he did before. Something about cold air helped his head clear much better than normal.

“You know for a family car that’s pretty nice looking.”

Sinbad opened the door to a sleek and shiny black car, placing Ja’far’s button covered backpack in the back of the car, and popping open the front passenger side for Ja’far to sit in. It wasn’t unusual for someone to have a car like this, since his own family had a car just as nice, but to let a kid drive it?

“Yeah yeah, Mom doesn’t like minivans and we’re a one kid family, so what’s the point?” he shrugged. “Normally I have a motorcycle, have since last June, but Mom insisted I drive something ‘nice’ to school, just in case I would get anything I can’t pack in a saddle bag.” he crinkled his nose, and Ja’far almost laughed.

“Mothers are always worrying over their kids. Can’t say I blame her.” He had settled into the seat comfortably, eyes closing a little bit.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now.” Sinbad smiled. “I need to know how to get you home.”

“I live in Dawson's Creek. You know where the Costco is? Here, let me put my address into the GPS here.”

“Ah yeah, that’s near the Intel campus my mom works on, the one that’s around Kohl’s?”

“Your mom works at Intel? What does she do? Mine does, but she’s a business manager for the company.”

“Mom’s a computer geek. She knows how to build them and is an engineer, probably knows more math than all of our teachers combined. I can’t say too much, its a secret you know?” he grinned. “Dad is too but he works on a different campus in Portland. They both don’t get home until late, so I’m generally by myself most of the time. Not that I mind. They’re good parents and trying to do their best.” Sinbad flushed realizing he talked a little too much.

Interesting. With his looks and how suave he seemed, Ja’far figured he was the bad boy type.

“Sorry about that.” he muttered. Sinbad felt strange, almost as if he’d known this person for a while, but he had only met him twenty minutes before. Was something wrong with him? Maybe it was because he was always a little weak for a pretty face, and he had to admit, Ja’far was very pretty, with delicate features almost like a girl’s.

That made his face feel warm.

“Oh it’s fine. Mystras always tells me I’m someone that people talk to, even if they don’t know me very well. I’m the elected mom friend of the group.”

A sheepish grin formed on Sinbad’s face. “Thanks. I have a feeling we’ll get along well. Ah, you’re not all that far away are you?” Ja’far had barely noticed they had left the school grounds and were near the house he lived in with his large adopted family.

“Anyone home? I know your parents aren’t but any siblings?” Sinbad asked when he stopped the car in front of the sprawling home. Ja’far shook his head.

“My siblings are all at school. Elementary or middle school, so they might be off soon.”

“Ahhh you’re the eldest sibling. Tough job. How many?”

“You’re awfully curious for someone I just met.” Ja’far laughed, wagging his finger at him.

“What can I say, it’s not every day I nearly knock someone out with a ball and take them home. Normally there’s a date somewhere in between.” he smirked when he saw a bright red flush show up on Ja’far’s pale skin.

Breathe, damn it! He internally thought. He felt a little funny inside, like he’s seen that somewhere before.

“I rendered you speechless, mission accomplished.” The banter left his lips easily, mischievousness shimmering in his bright gold eyes.

“You expect a reward for that?” his eyebrow went up.

“Hmm maybe?”

“I’m in danger when I’m around you.” he opened the door, pulling his bag from the bag in a fluid motion.

“Can I ask one thing?” Sinbad’s hand shot out to wrap around Ja’far’s wrist, keeping him there for a bit.

“And what’s that?” Ja’far was sure if he made any jerking motion, his wrist would probably snap, his grip was so strong.

Why did he feel butterflies in his stomach? And why wasn’t this alarming?

Almost as if it’s a game they have played before.

“Will you give me your number? So I can check up on you later.”

“Riiiight. Well you’re in luck, I actually have a phone, unlike half the people at our school. Hand me your phone.”

“That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.” Sinbad was surprised. Ja’far rolled his eyes, happy to have his hand back so he could enter in the information into the other’s smart phone.

“You’re the new kid, right? I remember overhearing from the principle early this morning we’d get someone in from L.A, and I’ve never seen you around before. I’ve attended Liberty since my freshman year. You’ll need someone to help you get around.”

“Great excuse. Huh, that’s an interesting last name.” When Ja’far handed his phone back, he had put “Aga” in the last name slot.

“My biological father was Turkish. That’s why my first name is so out of place with how I look.” his brilliant green eyes twinkled.

“Explains a lot.” he was curious about more, but he’d hold his tongue. “I’ll text you first. And see you at school tomorrow.”

Ja’far flashed him a smile, and fled into the house, heart still flying at a million miles an hour.

Ja’far placed his book bag on the wooden floor, and he sagged against the door, and his vision scanned what he could of the house.

He wasn’t surprised to see it empty. It was one pm on a Monday afternoon. His dad was abroad on a business trip to Norway, mom was at work and plethora of siblings at school…

Though he had to admit it was very lonely. Especially since he was gone -

Wait, that was a ridiculous thought, feeling? In his head. How could he miss someone he barely knew? But he admitted everything felt cold. The cab of that car felt warm, a cozy feeling of familiarity and the banter that went between them made him feel like they were old and very good friends.

Or lovers.

Ja’far shook his head of the notion, his cheeks extremely hot, the rosy blush staining his pale skin a brilliant shade of red. He’d call his grandmother later when he had the chance to, maybe to talk about it. In the last two years, he had shared every dream and every scrap of weird memories with her, and she understood what was going on scared her grandson a little.

He wondered…. Would he have another dream that night? They weren’t all the same. Some of them contained mysterious places with strange creatures, the feeling of cold steel in his hands, the laughter of others, and a warm feeling of companionship, or a terror he couldn’t explain, like something precious had been torn from him and he wouldn’t ever get it back.

The teen scrambled up the stairs, not in the least startled to feel his phone vibrate ten minutes after he sat down at his desk, with a message from a 714 number.

Miss me?

Ja’far huffed. What a cocky little shit.

How can I miss someone I barely know? He typed back furiously. It didn’t help that it was true. Not like he’d ever own up to it.

You should be keeping your eyes on the road if you’re still driving, anyways, not texting me like an idiot.

There! He’d leave him alone for a bit if he told him that, right?

You’re in luck, freckles, I’m just sitting at home ~ Thinking about you.

He was arrogant!

Why didn’t you just go back to school? They might be looking for you if you don’t go back?

Not one minute later, he felt his phone go off again, with a message from not just Sinbad, but it was a call from his mother.

“You doing okay? Still at school? I got out of my meeting.” her voice came over the line, and it soothed his frazzled nerves.

“No Mom, I’m home. A new friend drove me back. No one else could so he was more than okay with it.”

“Him? New friend? Oh was he cute? What’s his name?” the slew of questions came fast, and Ja’far couldn’t help but let a chuckle out.

“His name is Sinbad. Don’t tell him he’s cute, it might blow up his ego even more.”

“Sinbad? Did you manage to catch his last name?” there was a catch to Rurumu’s voice.

“It was… Akhtar? I hope I said that correctly, I heard it earlier but I think I messed it up.”

“Oh! He’s the son of one of our new workers, Esra! I got to meet her today and she’s a lovely woman. Sinbad’s hers and her husband’s only son.”

“Mom that name is like one in a million -” he was a little bemused by the whole situation. It felt like something was almost pushing them together, much to Ja’far’s annoyance.

“You sound flustered over the phone. You tired or fighting against liking him so much on the first day of meeting him?” on the other side of the line she grinned at the indignant squeaking that came from her son.

“MOM!”

“Oh fine, fine honey. I’ll stop teasing you – over the phone at least. I’ll be home a little early today, so we can all go out to dinner at Sherri’s. I love you.”

“Love you too Mom, see you when you get home.” he huffed.

The message that greeted him when he looked at the screen didn’t help at all. It completely disregarded his previous message.

Hey! Feel like carpooling tomorrow?

Mistake number one was about to be made.

Sure, it makes sure you get to school on time!

He could almost feel the smirk in the reply he got.

Aw! Freckles you do care~ It’s a date!

“It’s not!” Ja’far exploded, completely fuming. Normally calm, cool and poised, he was alarmed by all the reactions this one person got out of him.

He needed to calm down, so he decided to read. After looking over his bookcase, Ja’far pulled out an old, worn book, and buried his face in it. He had no homework that day, since it was the first day of the year.

It was something that was saved from the fire that consumed his old home, and it was leather bound with scorch marks all over it, and extremely thick. There was no title, and the pages were yellowed with time and use – stains here and there as well, but over all well loved.

The older pages were written in a language never used in this day and age, old Ottoman Turkish. Those dated back to supposedly the late 1600’s. It progressed to modern Turkish around 1928, and he could read both easily.

It was worn with years of use, some of the words almost rubbed out due to the years. But still legible.

Ja’far had no idea how old it was, but it held a lot of things, from recipes, magic spells to forms of fortune telling. Generations of women in his father’s family added to it lovingly over the years.

He was glad it survived the fire, since it was a precious family heirloom. Since Ja’far had no biological aunts, his older uncles had no female offspring and their wives didn’t want it, Ibrahim had gained the tome of old family knowledge, and now Ja’far had it. He hadn’t added a thing to it yet, but he had ideas he kept in a notebook to add one day.

Ja’far didn’t realize how much time had gone by until he heard the door slam and the various sounds of his siblings and Rurumu chattering downstairs. At some point he had turned on the lamp next to his bed, and was reading by its light.

“Hey honey, feeling okay?” Rurumu popped her head in. “Does your head hurt still? And are you up to going out?”

“Yeah, probably.” Ja’far looked up from his book. “’s not pie night, though, so why Sherri’s?” Sherri’s was a restaurant their family tended to favor.

“First day of school is a good day to go out and eat! And I don’t feel like cleaning up after you all.”

“Sounds like a plan.” placing the old tome down on the bed, he swung his legs over to get up and stretch.

“Meet me down stairs, we’re all headed out in the minivan!” with a smile, she walked down the hall to the stairs.

0 notes