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svt-luna · 3 months ago

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𝜗℘ IF ONLY

❛ 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺? 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘬𝘯��𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦. 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪’𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪’𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦— 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺. ❜

timeline: 2017 & 2018

synopsis: A moment of vulnerability, a confession left unanswered, and a heart quietly breaking— If only things had gone differently, but some stories take time to unfold.

warnings: cursing, crying, misunderstanding, drinking, angst, drunk confessions, rejection, sad!Luna, confused!Jeonghan, heartaches, talks about embracing the pain, unrequited love (?), a somewhat hopeful ending

surprise! my first ever one-shot in the Luna-verse, I really hope you guys like it! Also… I am so sorry for making this sad and angsty. A lot of you have been asking me about how Jeonghan rejected Luna ever since I posted the Group Ships… so here it is, but I promise it gets better from here. Luna and Jeonghan’s story is very very interesting so keep a lookout on that 🤍 (p.s. I made myself cry writing this.)

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

If only she wasn’t the way she was, that is what Luna thought growing up.

Luna had always found it difficult to make friends. From a young age, she was used to the way people looked at her— peers who seemed to keep their distance, children her age who were either too intimidated by her or too quick to judge. The few times she had tried to approach someone, their hesitation or outright dismissal had stung.

But with time, Luna learned to accept it. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, convincing herself that she didn’t need to fit in with the rest. Even as a child, she’d find comfort in the quiet, the solitude that followed her like a shadow.

That sense of isolation followed her into her teenage years, long after she had moved back to Korea to chase her dream of becoming an idol. At just fourteen, she had thrown herself into a world where competition was everything.

It was hard enough to adjust to the grueling training regimen, but there was something even more challenging— forming connections.

Surrounded by other trainees, Luna had hoped that maybe here, in the shared space of hard work and ambition, she would finally find people who understood her.

Instead, the distance only grew.

The girls she trained with didn’t just avoid her because of her looks. They avoided her because of her talent, her skill, and her determination.

Luna was better than them, and they knew it.

Every time she entered the practice room, Luna could feel the stares. Her sharp movements and flawless execution stood out, but not in the way she had hoped. It didn’t make people want to get closer to her. It made them wary as if they were afraid her presence alone was a threat.

Luna never intended to intimidate anyone; she simply wanted to do her best. But no matter how hard she worked, it seemed to push people further away.

Luna had taken it as a compliment as she got older. But back then, it was suffocating, watching the others group together while she was always left on the sidelines, untouchable, unapproachable.

If only she could have done something differently.

If only people could see beyond her cold exterior.

If only people weren't so quick to judge.

As she grew older, she tried to find some comfort in the idea that perhaps this distance was a compliment. If they were intimidated, it meant they saw her as someone to be taken seriously, someone skilled enough to be a rival. And rivals didn’t need to be friends, right?

But even as she told herself this, the isolation lingered. There were times when the silence became suffocating, and she wondered if anyone would ever approach her without that look in their eyes.

No one ever did.

Not until Jeonghan.

She remembered the first time they met vividly like it was etched into her mind.

It was her first day at PLEDIS after she had transferred from YG Entertainment. She had expected it to be just like the others— people watching her from a distance, maybe a polite nod or two but no real effort to get to know her.

But Jeonghan had been different from the start.

While the other trainees kept to their familiar circles, glancing at her curiously but saying nothing, Jeonghan had walked right up to her. His messy swept hair was already growing since then, and there was a smile on his face— easy and warm as if they had known each other for years.

“Hi,” he had said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Jeonghan. What’s your name?” he’d said with a casual smile like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth disarmed her and made her wonder why he didn’t hesitate like the others.

Luna had blinked, momentarily stunned by his straightforwardness. She had been so used to people shying away from her that for a second, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I... I’m Jiyeon,” she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small. “Or Luna… you can also call me Luna.”

“Jiyeon or Luna,” Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. “Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know.”

That was it. No fanfare, no awkward small talk— just a simple greeting, but it had meant the world to her.

It still does.

Jeonghan was the first person to make her feel like she wasn’t an outsider in the cutthroat world of trainee life. From that moment on, he became a constant presence in her life.

He became her first friend within the company and her first proper friend ever. The one who cheered her on during monthly evaluations when no one else would.

His voice would always rise above the whispers of competition, “You’ve got this, Nana-ya!” he’d say, his voice full of encouragement.

And when she did well— when she ranked first during one of the most intense evaluations— it was Jeonghan who was the first to congratulate her, beaming with pride as if her success was his own.

If only she had realized back then just how important he’d become to her.

Jeonghan became her anchor, the one person she could count on when the loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. He was the first one to truly see her—not just as another trainee, but as someone worth knowing.

Jeonghan was her first friend, her first best friend, but he was also the first guy she ever liked.

As time passed, it became clearer. Jeonghan wasn’t just a friend to her. Luna didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but one day, she realized that her feelings for Jeonghan had shifted.

It wasn’t a loud, thunderous realization. It crept in like a slow sunrise, soft and warm.

His easy smiles, the way his hair would fall into his eyes, the effortless kindness he showed not only her but everyone around him. It was the way her heart would flutter when he smiled at her, the way she would find herself glancing at him in the practice room, admiring his soft features, the way he moved with effortless grace… it all felt different.

It made her heart ache, a tender pull that grew with every interaction.

Jeonghan wasn’t just her best friend— he was someone she cared about, someone who had become more important to her than she had ever anticipated.

It started innocently enough, a soft crush that lingered in the back of her mind, growing stronger with every passing day.

Back then, Luna had convinced herself it was just admiration. After all, Jeonghan was everything she wasn’t— outgoing, charming, and effortlessly kind. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, and for someone like Luna, who had always been hard to approach, that was something she admired.

But it wasn’t just admiration. She knew that deep down.

If only she could stop herself from liking her best friend.

It terrified her.

Cause just like every first crush, it came with fear.

Fear that he wouldn’t see her the same way.

Fear that their dynamic would change, and the closeness she cherished would slip away.

As a trainee, Luna had done her best to suppress those feelings. She’d bury herself in practice, pushing herself harder and harder, hoping the exhaustion would numb whatever emotions were swirling inside her.

But Jeonghan always seemed to break through that wall. He was the one who encouraged her when she doubted herself, the one who praised her when she felt like she wasn’t good enough, and the one who always made sure she never felt alone.

He had this way of showing up exactly when she needed someone, even when she hadn’t realized she needed anyone at all.

If only it were simple.

If only her heart didn’t race every time he smiled at her during practice, or when he pulled her aside after evaluations just to tell her how well she’d done.

If only she could keep it all together like she wanted to. But every time they stood next to each other on stage, every time they shared a laugh behind the scenes, every time he gave her that gentle, knowing look that only he could, her feelings for him grew stronger, despite how desperately she tried to push them away.

And yet, she knew she couldn’t say anything.

From their trainee days to their debut, Luna kept those feelings locked inside. She’d convinced herself it was better that way. After all, they were in the same group now. They were members of SEVENTEEN, a team. If anything were to happen, if her feelings were ever discovered, it could ruin everything they had worked so hard for.

The thought of jeopardizing that terrified her. That is the last thing she wanted was to complicate things—for herself, for Jeonghan, or the group.

So, for years, Luna held back.

She smiled when Jeonghan smiled at her, laughed when he teased her during practice and pretended it didn’t hurt when he leaned a little too close to one of their other members, playfully tugging on their sleeves the same way he did with her.

Luna tried to delude herself into thinking that her feelings would fade sooner or later.

If only it did.

The feelings persisted, gnawing at her every time they shared a moment. And as much as she tried to hide it, there was no denying the truth: she had hard fallen for him.

Soon, she had become a master of hiding her emotions, of keeping her heart carefully tucked away.

By 2017, she had gotten so good at it that even she almost believed she didn’t care anymore.

Almost.

But it all came crashing down one late night in June, in the quiet of their shared dorm floor. The group had just come home from a long day, having performed at ‘Music Bank’, and the exhaustion clung to them like a heavy fog.

But for Luna and Jeonghan, the night was far from over. It had become their little routine— after a long day, after all the noise and chaos of performing and smiling for the cameras, they would retreat to either Jeonghan or Luna's place, pour a few drinks, and talk.

Tonight was no different.

The apartment was dimly lit, casting a soft glow around the living room where they sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, with half-empty glasses between them. The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the city lights, and the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of their glasses as they took small sips.

The rest of the members were asleep or off doing their own thing, leaving Luna and Jeonghan in their own little bubble, just as they always had been.

Jeonghan had been talking about something— Luna wasn’t sure what exactly, her mind was too clouded with the effects of the alcohol and the way he was looking at her, that soft, knowing gaze he always gave her when he thought she was overdoing it. His now blonde hair, now tousled from the day, framed his face as he watched her with that same concerned look he always gave her whenever they drank together.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know,” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but amused. He leaned forward, reaching for her glass as if to take it from her, but Luna pulled it back with a childish pout, cradling it against her chest.

“I’m fine,” she whined, her words slightly slurred, but playful. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing at him with a half-smile. “We are so busy nowadays that we never get to just… talk anymore. I miss this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Luna nodded, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. The room felt heavy with unsaid words, with all the things she’d been holding back for years. And yet, there he was, sitting across from her, calm, composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

He was so infuriatingly perfect— always knowing what to say, how to make her feel safe, how to make her laugh, how to keep her at a distance just enough that she could never cross that line.

Jeonghan shifted beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for her glass again, gently prying it from her hands this time.

“Nana-ya, you’ll get hungover if you keep this up,” he said, his tone more serious now. His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass, setting it aside, and she hated how even that small touch made her heart race.

If only if her heart stopped doing that.

“I don’t care,” Luna murmured, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she realized. She slumped further into the couch, her legs stretching out in front of her, her head turning to rest on the cushion behind her.

She watched as Jeonghan stood up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning down to gently take her hand, pulling her up with him.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he gently tugged her toward her bedroom.

“I’m not tired,” Luna whined again, stumbling slightly as she followed him, her body swaying from the alcohol.

She felt warm all over, not just from the drinks, but from the way Jeonghan was guiding her with such care, as if she were fragile, something to be protected. His hand was steady, firm but gentle as it held hers, and Luna found herself hating it. Hating how easy it was for him to be like this. How perfect he was.

“We can talk more in the morning. You need to rest.” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but insistent. He led her into her bedroom, helping her sit down on the edge of the bed.

Luna shook her head, her vision blurring slightly as she stared up at him. “You’re too good to me, Hannie,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out without her even realizing it. “You’re… too perfect, it’s annoying.”

Jeonghan paused, crouching down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees as he looked up at her with that same gentle smile. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face

Luna's heart clenched. She hated it. Hated how effortlessly he could make her feel like this.

“You make me feel things,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan blinked, his smile faltering slightly, but before he could say anything, Luna let out a frustrated sigh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He stayed quiet, his hands gently resting on her back, his touch light, almost hesitant. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push her away, didn’t ask her to explain. He just stayed there, holding her, letting her lean on him as the weight of her words hung in the air between them.

“You’re too perfect,” she repeated, her voice muffled against his shirt. “And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way.”

Jeonghan's brows furrowed as he heard her words, the frustration lacing her voice, and something in his chest tightened.

He had a feeling he understood what she meant— he wasn’t oblivious, after all. He’d seen the little signs, the lingering glances, the way her gaze softened whenever he was near. But even with that knowledge, there was a part of him that needed to hear her say it outright. To confirm what he had long suspected but never dared to address.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but probing, hoping she would clarify even though he already had an inkling.

Jeonghan’s heart beat a little faster, anxiety swirling in his chest. He didn’t move, his hands still resting lightly on her back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her shirt. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the weight of her leaning against him.

Luna pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her expression a mix of frustration and something else— something raw, something vulnerable.

“I hate you,” she muttered, her words slurred but filled with emotion. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

Jeonghan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. “What do you mean ‘feel like this’?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, a little more uncertain.

Jeonghan knew, of course, he knew, but hearing her say it— he needed that.

Luna huffed, her frustration growing as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull herself together.

“Since we were trainees, Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice rising just slightly, her words tumbling out faster now as if she couldn’t stop them. “You were always so... nice to me. Too nice. And you were always there, cheering me on, helping me, making me feel like I wasn’t alone. You made me feel so pretty… so loved… so feel special.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He listened, his heart pounding in his chest as she continued.

“And I hated it. I hated how much I needed that. I hated that every time you smiled at me, I felt something. Something I wasn’t supposed to feel.” Luna’s voice cracked, her frustration turning into something more fragile, more pained. “It’s been the same since we were trainees. And even now... even now, you’re still making me feel this way. And I don’t know what to do with it anymore.”

Jeonghan stayed silent, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of her words sinking in, each one hitting him like a stone, and yet... it wasn’t surprising. Not really.

Jeonghan was good at reading people, he had always sensed it— this undercurrent between them, something deeper than friendship, something unspoken that lingered in the spaces between their interactions. But hearing her admit it, hearing the depth of her frustration, her hurt... it made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Jiyeon-ah...” he started, his voice soft, but before he could say anything more, Luna slumped forward, her body going limp as the alcohol finally took over. She had passed out, her breathing evening out as she leaned against his chest.

Jeonghan froze for a moment, blinking down at her in surprise. His heart was still racing, his mind spinning with everything she had just said, but as he looked at her now, so peaceful in her sleep, all that frustration and pain gone from her face, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him.

She looked so fragile in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made something deep inside him stir. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he sat there for a few minutes, watching her, his hand lightly brushing the hair away from her face as she slept. His heart ached for her, for the weight she had been carrying for so long, for the feelings she had kept hidden all these years.

If only things had been different.

If only he had realized sooner.

Jeonghan let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing through her hair one last time before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was light, barely there, but it was all he could offer at that moment.

“Goodnight, pretty angel,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he slowly pulled away.

He stood up, carefully laying her down on the bed and pulling the covers over her, making sure she was comfortable before stepping back. He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the mess they had left behind in the living room— the half-empty glasses, the bottle of soju, the scattered snacks. With one last look at Luna, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jeonghan made his way back to the living room, his mind still spinning from everything that had happened. He cleaned up in silence, his movements slow and methodical as he cleared the table, washed the glasses, and wiped down the counter. His thoughts kept drifting back to her words, the way she had looked at him, the raw emotion in her voice.

By the time he finished cleaning, the apartment was quiet again, the night settling in around him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, his hands resting on the back of the couch as he stared at the empty space where Luna had been sitting earlier.

If only he had known earlier.

If only things were simpler.

The next morning, Luna woke up with a pounding headache and three immediate regrets.

If only she didn’t remember what she said to Jeonghan last night.

If only she hadn’t drank so much.

If only she drank more— enough to forget.

But she remembered everything. Every. Single. Thing. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that Jeonghan did too.

Luna stayed in bed longer than she should’ve, staring up at the ceiling as her mind replayed the previous night’s events on an unrelenting loop. The hazy confession, the way her voice had trembled when she told him she hated how he made her feel—her heart sank deeper with each flash of memory.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget, but it was useless. The image of Jeonghan’s face, so soft and caring as she spilled her heart, refused to leave her mind.

Her schedule wouldn’t let her wallow in bed, though. Today was packed with activities: music shows, interviews, rehearsals, variety show tapings, and a radio appearance in the evening.

All of them required her to see Jeonghan.

Dragging herself out of bed, Luna’s stomach twisted at the thought of facing him. How was she supposed to look him in the eye after what she said?

She could still feel the weight of his gaze from the night before, the warmth of his hands guiding her to bed, the way his lips had brushed her forehead so tenderly. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it, but now all she felt was dread.

She couldn’t avoid him. Not when their schedules were so packed together. And yet… If only she could. She pulled on her clothes, barely paying attention to what she was wearing, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of how to survive the day without falling apart in front of him.

The day started with a soundcheck at a music show. Luna moved through the motions, greeting staff, warming up her voice, and running through their choreography.

All while keeping one eye on Jeonghan.

She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her. She could feel it— the way his gaze followed her across the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to look out for her, but today it was different. His eyes lingered too long, his expressions too soft, too thoughtful.

And yet, she refused to meet his gaze. Whenever he moved towards her, she skillfully maneuvered herself away, pretending to be busy talking to another member or reviewing notes with their staff. When he tried to catch her between breaks, she’d feign exhaustion, lying down in the waiting room, headphones in, eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t disturb her.

He didn’t. But he watched.

During the interview portion of their music show appearance, she stood sandwiched between Mingyu and Wonwoo, grateful for the buffer zone. Jeonghan was on the other side of the group, but still, she felt his eyes on her. Every time the camera wasn’t focused on them, he’d glance her way, and she’d pretend not to notice.

The weight of it was suffocating, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of performances and obligations. She danced, smiled for the cameras, and laughed when appropriate, all while dodging Jeonghan’s attempts to talk to her. When they left the studio for rehearsals, she managed to stick close to the other members, always positioning herself away from Jeonghan without making it too obvious.

But he was relentless. Subtle, but relentless.

For two days, she avoided him with increasing skill. If he took a step toward her, she’d suddenly have a question for staff or be deep in conversation with another member. If he tried to speak to her during breaks, she’d claim she was too tired or needed to use the restroom.

Thankfully, their schedules were so packed that it was easy to stay busy. The exhaustion from back-to-back schedules worked to her advantage— no one questioned why she was too tired to chat during their downtime.

No one, except for Jeonghan.

He never pressed her. Never forced her into a conversation. But Luna knew. She could see it in the way his eyes would flicker with something unreadable when she ducked out of his reach, the way his expression softened whenever she pretended to be preoccupied.

Jeonghan wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly what she was doing.

And he let her.

But there was no escaping the fact that the more she avoided him, the more she felt the tension building between them. It was like a taut string, pulling tighter with each passing day, each fleeting glance, each unspoken word.

And the worst part? She knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, she’d have to face him.

There was only so much running she could do before everything came crashing down again.

And it did.

Three days after her drunken confession, Luna found herself in the worst possible scenario— alone with Jeonghan.

It had been a long day of grueling practice, the kind that left everyone too exhausted to talk, but not too exhausted to finally notice the tension between the two of them.

Luna was desperate to get to her room, hoping to avoid another awkward interaction. She quickened her pace as soon as they entered the dorm, hoping to reach the elevator before anyone could catch up to her— before he could catch up to her.

One thing about Luna is that she hates elevators— she got stuck alone once when she was a child. From then on she never took it alone… till now, that’s how desperate she was.

She must have jinxed it.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped in quickly, but a second later, Jeonghan slipped in behind her. The doors closed, trapping her in the small, suffocating space with the one person she had been desperately trying to avoid.

“Fuck my life,” She cursed under her breath.

Where were the other members? Normally, someone would’ve joined them, but tonight, it was just the two of them. Jeonghan must’ve said something to the others, some quiet, strategic whisper to give them privacy.

Luna sighed audibly, her shoulders tensing as she avoided looking in his direction.

The silence in the elevator was unbearable. She could feel Jeonghan’s presence beside her, calm and unhurried.

She hated how composed he always was— how nothing seemed to faze him. Luna, on the other hand, felt like she was barely holding herself together, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweaty as she stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to reach her floor as quickly as possible.

But Jeonghan didn’t speak. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. He simply waited, giving her space, like he always did.

If only he wasn’t so perfect.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Luna broke the silence. "Just spit it out already," she muttered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

She knew he had something to say, something he’d been holding back for the past three days. It was the thing she had been dreading ever since she confessed her feelings to him— the thing she had been running from since their trainee days.

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, almost tender when he finally spoke. "You’ve been ignoring me."

He didn’t sound angry or hurt, just… understanding.

And Luna hated it. He was too perfect, too kind, too gentle for her own good. How could she not fall for someone like him? How could she not hate him for making it so easy?

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Luna could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the elevator doors, counting the seconds in her head, hoping this would all be over soon. But the words were clawing their way out of her, demanding to be spoken.

"What do you want me to say, Han?" Her voice was sharp, and defensive, as if she could protect herself with her words. "That I lied? ‘Cause I didn’t."

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time in three days. The impact of it hit her like a wave— his warm, concerned gaze, the softness in his expression, the way he looked at her like he saw straight through her defenses.

"If only it was," she added quietly, her voice breaking just a little at the end.

Jeonghan stepped forward slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His hands found her arms, his touch light, barely there, as if he was afraid to hurt her. He gently caressed her skin, his thumb tracing small circles against her sleeve, soothing in a way that only made everything worse.

"Jiyeon-ah..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying her name out loud might shatter the fragile moment between them.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Luna knew him all too well.

She knew him inside and out— knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t just concern. There was something else there, something that made her stomach twist painfully.

A twinge of regret. Sadness.

She already knew what he was going to say.

And she dreaded it.

"I…" Jeonghan hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he prepared to speak, his gaze never leaving hers. "I care about you so much, you know that, right?"

Luna nodded in defeat, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions at bay. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

"But… we can’t do this." His voice was soft, so gentle as if he was trying to let her down easy. "It wouldn’t be professional. And it wouldn’t be fair to the others, to the team. We’ve worked so hard to get here, and… we can’t risk that."

There it was.

The polite rejection.

The one she’d expected but had hoped would never come. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs. She went numb, her mind buzzing with a kind of dull, painful shock.

She had prepared herself for this. She knew it was coming. But still, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

She couldn’t hear anything else.

The world around her became a blur, Jeonghan’s words fading into the background as her mind shut down, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricting as she struggled to keep herself composed.

If only she could forget this moment… this feeling.

At that very moment, something in Luna’s brain snapped— a survival instinct, a deep-seated need to protect herself from the pain that had just hollowed her out.

A switch flipped, and determination settled over her like a mask. She forced a giggle, light and airy as if nothing had happened. As if her heart wasn’t hanging in tatters inside her chest.

She could see Jeonghan’s face soften, but not in relief. No, his eyes were filled with something else—pain. He knew her all too well. Knew this was her defense mechanism. Her way of pretending everything was fine.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to say something, maybe to stop her from pretending and shutting him out but Luna was faster.

"It’s fine," she said, her voice calm, steady. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I was drunk and being stupid."

There it was.

The first lie.

And then, with a forced chuckle, she gave him the second, her all-time favorite lie, one she had practiced in front of a mirror countless times just in case this moment ever came.

"It’s a little crush. It’ll go away soon."

Luna had become so good at pretending, at brushing off her own heartbreak as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

She waved her hand dismissively as if her heart hadn’t just been ripped to shreds and thrown at her feet. As if she wasn’t praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole so she could disappear from the sheer embarrassment of being rejected.

"I’m sorry for worrying you," she said, her voice light, too casual. "You know me. I didn’t want to come off as weird and I’ve been missing my parents lately… Plus, with our schedule being so crazy, I’ve just been all over the place."

She was explaining herself, making excuses for her vulnerability, for the way her feelings had slipped through the cracks in her armor.

It was easier to blame it on something else— on homesickness, on stress— than to admit what was really happening inside her heart.

She saw Jeonghan frown, saw the worry deepening in his eyes as he tried to get a word in, but she was already moving, already pivoting away from the conversation.

"We’re okay." She cut him off, a little too cheerful. Her firm voice cutting through as if to reassure Jeonghan or more so to reassure herself. She stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something she’d done a hundred times before but this time it felt like a goodbye. "Don’t worry about it."

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and without waiting for a response, Luna slipped out, leaving Jeonghan standing there, stunned and silent.

The moment the door to her apartment clicked shut behind her, the facade crumbled.

Luna’s breath hitched, and she locked the door with trembling hands. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything she had been holding back crashing down on her in one violent wave.

She pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the floor, squeezing her eyes shut as silent sobs wracked her body. The room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that only amplified the buzzing in her ears, the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

She had known it would hurt, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

For years, she had kept her feelings carefully hidden, burying them deep inside her chest where no one could see, not even herself sometimes.

Luna had told herself it was better this way, safer. But now that it had all come out— now that she had laid herself bare only to be rejected— it felt like everything she had built around herself was crumbling.

All the walls she had put up, all the armor she had worn, were useless now.

If only she hadn’t said anything.

If only she had kept quiet like always.

If only she hadn’t let herself hope.

Luna was angry— at the universe, at herself because she couldn’t find herself to be angry at Jeonghan. It was not his fault after all. It’s not his fault he didn’t feel the same way, he didn’t do it on purpose. In the same way, she didn’t fall for him on purpose.

However, she was angry that she had been stupid enough to believe, even for a second, that he might feel the same way… even a little. Angry that she had let her guard down. Angry that no matter how hard she tried to let go, her heart had latched onto him with a vice grip that wouldn’t loosen.

Her thoughts spiraled, wild and desperate as tears streamed down her face. She had tried for so long to suppress her feelings, to push them down, to keep them from surfacing. But now, they were all spilling out, every fear, every insecurity, every moment of doubt.

Years, she thought, choking on the sobs. Years of holding this in, of pretending I was okay… all for what?

Luna had always known that liking Jeonghan would lead to this.

It had been inevitable, she supposed.

A quiet, creeping sense of dread that had lived in the back of her mind ever since they were trainees. She had always feared that this would be the outcome, that her feelings would only ever be one-sided, that the day she confessed, everything would fall apart.

But she had never expected it to hurt this much.

Her heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, she wished she could rip it out of her chest just to make the pain stop.

The rejection wasn’t even the worst part.

No, it was the fact that Jeonghan had been so kind about it.

So understanding.

So… perfect.

Luna hated that about him.

Hated that he had been so gentle, so considerate when he let her down.

It would’ve been easier if he had been harsh if he had given her something to be angry about. But instead, he had given her nothing but soft words, valid excuses, and apologies.

The buzzing in her ears became a dull hum as the last of her sobs faded, and in the silence, her body slowly went numb as she curled up on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she let the pain settle deep within her heart.

Luna didn’t push away the pain this time; she allowed it to consume her, to wrap itself around her heart like a vice.

Every ache, every sharp sting of rejection, she accepted it— because maybe if she let herself feel it fully, let herself drown in it for just this moment, her heart would finally learn.

Maybe this time, the hurt would leave a scar deep enough to remind her, to teach her, that hoping for more was futile. That loving someone who didn’t feel the same way was a battle she was always destined to lose.

Maybe, she thought, maybe this time, my heart will finally take the hint and move on.

But deep down, Luna knew better.

She had tried to move on before— countless times—and it had never worked.

No matter how much she wished for it, her heart had always found its way back to Jeonghan. Always.

And now, as she lay there, broken and exhausted, she realized with a painful clarity that this wasn’t the push she needed to forget him.

No.

This was only the beginning.

It was still painful, though.

Knowing that the first guy she had ever liked— the first person she had truly opened up to— would never see her the same way.

Jeonghan had been the first person to approach her, the first person to become her friend, the first person she liked, and now, he was the first person to break her heart.

If only things had been different.

Life, however, moved on.

The next day came with the same grueling schedule and the same routines. Music shows, interviews, practice sessions, and variety show appearances all blurred together as if nothing in her world had been torn apart the night before.

Luna didn’t allow any cracks to show; she was an expert at wearing her mask by now. She laughed with the other members, joked with the staff, and smiled for the fans— all while something heavy settled deeper within her chest, like a stone she couldn’t quite shake off.

With Jeonghan, it was as if nothing had ever happened. No awkward tension lingered between them, no strained silences or hesitant interactions. He treated her the same way he always had— kind, supportive, teasing her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Jeonghan was worried, of course.

Luna could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual, the subtle softness in his voice whenever he spoke her name. But he didn’t push. He didn’t force her to talk about what had happened that night, didn’t ask for explanations or demand a conversation she clearly wasn’t ready to have.

Luna spoke to him like she always did, her tone light and unbothered.

Not once did she avoid him because, in her mind, avoiding him would only prove that she wasn’t okay.

And she desperately needed to be okay.

She couldn't allow anyone— especially Jeonghan— to know the truth despite knowing he probably already did.

That her heart still beat just as fast when he smiled at her, that every casual touch sent a familiar warmth spreading through her chest.

No, she wasn’t going to let anyone see that she was still hurting.

Not again.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Luna realized quickly that nothing had changed with her feelings.

They hadn't diminished, they hadn't been pushed away. If anything, they only grew stronger the more she tried to bury them.

So, she made a decision: she would lock them up deep down in her chest, chain her heart, and throw away the key.

It was better like this. Safer.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Because no matter how far Luna thought she’d thrown the key, somehow, in some twisted cosmic joke, it landed straight into Jeonghan’s hands.

Unbeknownst to her, he had already begun to notice the cracks beneath her carefully crafted facade, the moments where her smile faltered just a little too long, or when her gaze lingered on him longer than she intended.

Jeonghan, who had always been so attuned to her, had found the key she so desperately wanted to hide.

And little by little, without her even realizing it, he was using it to unlock the very heart she was trying so hard to protect.

A year had passed since that night.

A year since Luna had bared her soul, and Jeonghan had rejected her.

It was 2018 now, during the filming of the music video of their song ‘THANKS’ and the air was thick with a quiet intensity as the members pushed through a grueling day of shooting.

But even amidst the rush and exhaustion, Jeonghan couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed Luna from a distance, as they often did.

She was talking animatedly to the camera set up for their ‘Inside SEVENTEEN’ behind-the-scenes footage.

Luna’s laugh echoed faintly across the set, and Jeonghan couldn’t stop noticing the smallest things about her.

The way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled— an indication that it was real, genuine, a smile that Jeonghan hadn’t seen in far too long. He noticed how her hair danced in the light breeze, strands occasionally kissing her face before she absentmindedly brushed them away.

Her smile stretched wide, almost reaching her ears, a sign that today, she was happy. Genuinely happy.

And Jeonghan was thankful for that. He’d worried about her for so long.

Luna turned toward him then, catching his gaze. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she smiled at him—soft, warm, real.

Jeonghan returned it with a smile of his own, but the second her attention shifted back to the camera, where she began laughing about something with Dokyeom who sneaked up on her from behind, his heart twisted in a way he hadn’t expected.

Jeonghan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her confession every day since it happened. Because he had. It had haunted him, followed him into every quiet moment, and lingered in every glance they shared.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it— about her. He hadn’t stopped worrying about her since that night, either.

The truth was, he admired her— he always had.

Jeonghan admired the strength she had to smile and laugh even when she must’ve been hurting inside.

He admired how effortlessly beautiful she was, today, yesterday, and every day in between.

He admired how she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders but never let it dim her light.

But as Jeonghan watched her now, laughing freely with Dokyeom, something sharp and bitter jabbed at his chest.

It was innocent, of course. Luna and Dokyeom had always been close. Their laughter was nothing more than friendly.

But that didn’t stop the sudden realization from slapping Jeonghan across the face: he couldn’t keep this lie up any longer.

The lie that he had been telling himself since the night Luna confessed to him.

When she had stood there, vulnerable and raw, spilling her heart out, he had been scared.

He’d made excuses— talked about professionalism, about the team, about the risks. But deep down, they were just that— excuses.

He had lied, not to her, but to himself.

Because he felt the same.

He always had.

And he’d been too scared to admit it, too scared to face what it would mean to let himself fall for her.

If only he hadn’t lied.

If only he hadn’t been scared.

If only he had the courage to do what his heart had been telling him all along.

But the sight of her laughing with someone else, even if it was innocent, hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The thought of someone else making her laugh like that, of someone else being the reason behind those genuine smiles— he couldn’t handle it.

Jeonghan couldn’t let someone like Luna go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands were clammy as he fidgeted with the hem of his top, his leg bouncing anxiously. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it felt like it might burst out. There was a smile creeping up on his face, a warmth spreading through him, and for a moment, Jeonghan wondered if he was going into cardiac arrest.

But then, no… this wasn’t heart failure.

This wasn’t a symptom of physical pain.

This was him falling for Bae Jiyeon.

It wasn’t fear.

It was exhilaration.

It was the undeniable truth that he couldn’t keep hiding anymore. He was falling for her— had been for a long time, but now, it was clear as day. The thought of her with anyone else made him feel like he’d lose a piece of himself.

And there was only one way to fix that.

Jeonghan wasn’t discouraged by his mistakes from the past. No. He was determined now— more than ever.

Determined to make this right, to tell her what he should’ve said a year ago.

Determined to hold onto her before it was too late.

With the key to Luna’s heart, which she had thrown away in her desperate attempt to lock her feelings deep inside, now firmly in Jeonghan’s grasp, he was determined to unlock a future they both had wished for but were too hesitant and scared to reach.

Jeonghan is determined to do anything to turn the if only into an unequivocally so.

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syndrossi · 11 days ago

Note

You brought up this AU idea from way back where Jon and Rhaegar were born earlier as Aemon and Jocelyn's sons, and thus Rhaenys' little brothers. How old would that put them compared to Daemon? Would he like having more cousins? For that matter, would Rhaenys like having little brothers? Would Aemon live in this AU, or would we get child!King Jon? (The sheer panic, lmao.) If so, would Viserys become his regent? I was just wondering about it and could not resist the curiosity. How do you think things would have changed in this sort of verse? 🤔

I sort of like the idea of them being right around Daemon's age, plus or minus a few years. I'm sure he would be thrilled about having cousins his age, too. Rhaenys is cool, but she's a girl and older. The age gap between her and Daemon is pretty significant in terms of being peers. Rhaenys meanwhile may find it a little disappointing at first. I expect she had dreams of her own that she might be queen someday after her father, long before she got her cold shot of reality at the Great Council. Twin brothers pushes her back behind both of them in the succession.

But Rhaenys is also a seven or eight-year-old, so it's not like politics and the succession are the primary things on her mind when the twins are born. Twins are fun, and the boys are cute/sweet, so I'm sure she warms up to them quickly and bossily assumes control over their education even though she's pretty much a child herself (Jocelyn, amused, lets her). She probably wishes at least one of them had been a girl, especially when she has to deal with the brat pack that is Viserys, Daemon, and the twins running around like hooligans at Dragonstone or the Giant's Toe.

If Aemon dies at his usual canon time and the twins are roughly Daemon's age, then Jon would be thirteenish, which isn't TERRIBLE. (The other alternative is the twins being born much later, aka when Rhaenys is married. Jocelyn gets pregnant, Aemon dies shortly after their birth, and chaos ensues. They'd be contemporaries of Rhaenyra in this case, and I expect Jaehaerys betroths Rhaenyra to Jon and plans for Baelon, and later Viserys, to be Jon's regent.)

Or my soft heart wins out and Aemon gets to live, who can say! That could be an interesting inversion--where Baelon dies, and it's Aemon who has to live on, only unlike Baelon, he has no enemy to strike down in vengeance, since it was sickness that took him. Viserys and Daemon both leaning on him in their grief, Daemon claiming Vhagar(???) instead.

It's hard to say what changes, exactly, without settling on some details! Is this a setting with or without warlocks (aka with or without messy Essos politics)? Does Aemon live or die? Are the twins contemporaries of Daemon or Rhaenyra?

I do think that Jaehaerys is faced with an interesting, difficult choice in the case of Aemon dies + the twins are babies. Because he has a grown son as a very valid alternative, even if standard male-preference primogeniture dictates that Jon and Rhaegar should be above Baelon in the succession. Then again, he did not immediately declare Viserys his next heir after Baelon's death, which shows he was open to Aemon's line stepping back into the position, even if the rest of the realm wasn't.

Things are much more stable if Aemon doesn't die (obviously) or if the twins are born earlier and Jon becomes a thirteen-year-old heir to the Iron Throne. Jaehaerys would have had enough time to get a sense of Jon's capability and know that he's an excellent option.

Otto's not sitting nearly as pretty as in canon (the daughter of a second son is no worthwhile match for the king's heir or his spare), so he may be driven to more desperate measures in his grasping for power.

(I'll bet the twins are Corlys's #1 fans. It is likely joked that no one was more excited when he wed Rhaenys, not even Rhaenys herself.)

#resonant asks #don't make me come up with a name for this au flavor

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trials-of-a-spirit-worker · 1 year ago

Text

Spirit Work Basics

You voted, I listened. I meant it. So buckle up as we go through the basics of Spirit Work.

I've touched on this on other posts but I'll make a massive post here. This is not going to explain everything and will still be pretty broad. Cause I do not have the time, the knowledge, nor patience to try and explain EVERYTHING.

But I do hope it helps.

Look under the tags advice, spirit communication, spirit work for more detail.

So hello, I'm Sol. I've been working with spirits since I realized I was speaking with them. I had the gift since I was a young child, first spirit I saw being my grandfather on my father's side shortly after he passed away. He was a pastor, supposedly, I was doing the best I could to repeat his favorite verses despite me being a small little shit. I don't remember the verses, I do remember speaking to him a lot however.

Which is where we'll begin, how to speak to spirits.

Maybe she's born with it? Maybe it's insanity~♪

Well, how do we begin with speaking with spirits? There's a number of ways, actually. Some do have the natural ability, like myself but that shouldn't discourage people who are newly trying and don't have that natural affinity for it. Spirits can and will talk to anyone if you open yourself up. Just takes a bit of work. But Sol, you may ask, how do I do that?

If you've been on witchblr for a bit you know what I'm about to say next: Yup.

Meditate.

Now listen, meditation is a way to open yourself up to the spirits around you or just at least signal "hey, I'm open to talk to." It gives you a good sense of your own energy and the energy around you. Meditation doesn't have one look either. A lot of people can't just sit still and kept their legs crossed or be on their knees with their eyes closed (I see you ADHD/ADD people). Hell, my lazy ass will meditate lying down.

Literally the definition of Meditation: to engage in mental exercise (such as concentration on one's breathing or repetition of a mantra) for the purpose of reaching a heightened level of spiritual awareness. transitive verb. : to focus one's thoughts on : reflect on or ponder over. (merriam webster)

It's pretty broad, right? Hell, you can even work out and meditate. I do it all the time. Cause I focus on my breathing and the feeling of energy through my body. Basically you can get creative with it.

While you're meditating, make sure you're feeling your own energy. This can come in a number of ways; waves, your heartbeat, a feeling of something cloaking you etc. While you have that feeling down, envision an opening, whether its a door, or just acknowledging you're reaching out to the other side. Whether or not you get an answer back, you are putting yourself out there and that's half the battle done. Just be sure to know how to close yourself and ward your body. Spirit work and opening yourself like that is no joke and I'd like you to be safe.

To do that, just envision whatever you had opened closed or recede back or whatever you used that worked for you.

Signs to Look for

Some of the more common tells of a spirit hearing and trying to communicate are of the following:

Small echos/voices in the back of your head

Random thoughts that may not be your own

Knocks or things shuffling

Strange dreams

Small phantom touches

Feelings of being watched

And Many More!

"But Sol," some of you might say, "that's really fucking vague and could just be explained away."

Yeah...welcome to spirit work. You thought this shit was easy?!

You have to work on your discernment. It is a skill needed for this type of work.

Seems counterproductive, but it's not! See, if every bump and noise was reported as ghosts or spirits, well...we'd be even less believed than we already are. When doing spirit work, or ghost hunting, you are stuck with the burden of proof and it's a huge burden to have. This is why people ask for repeats of actions, to speak again in recorders and other things. We're asking for repetition, because science is prevalent, especially in spiritualism and occultism. We have to be our own skeptics so when we have something that can't be explained away, we truly have something to celebrate.

Tools on the Job

No one said you had to do this all on vibes. No shame in using tools. I'll more than likely take the time to make specific posts about each tool in the future cause this post is already really long but I'll give you a nice rundown of basic tools.

By the way anyone who tries to shame you for using tools or says "only trainee or baby witches use this or that" are tools themselves (not the good or useful kind) and should not be given the time of day. Tools are fine. Use them for help if you need it because that's what the fuck a tool is for.

Now these aren't all the tools you can use but I'll give you some well known ones. I've seen witches get real creative and it's honestly super cool watching them use strange things that you'd never think about as a witchcraft tool. But that's what makes it so fun.

Tarot cards

Tarot is something I often use. 78 cards all with different meanings. There's many many ways to interpret them and multiple themes that many of them have.

My best advice for these are to just look up the overall meanings both upright and reversed just to have a general consensus of each card. Play around with them a lot, and interpret them the way you would as if you were making a story with them. You can also use them for spirit communication.

Calling forth a spirit allowing them to touch the deck (just leave it for a moment and allow them to influence the deck as it were before doing the spread). Holds a lot of power in your hands but is a little slow.

Pendulum

A pendulum is usually a crystal tied to a string or a chain that can be swung over a board of either yes or no or maybe for its options. Sometimes there is a mock ouija for the pendulum to spell out things as well.

Cool thing about a pendulum is it can be anything that swings if you wish. Some people I've seen take off their necklace and use it as a pendulum just fine. Just have a singular point and you can get to work anywhere with it. Please make sure to ward yourself from invading or malevolent spirits when you do this though.

Lots of pendulum or spirit boards exist and have different templates as well.

This is more of a call and response type of device to use. Especially when you feel a spirit present Still has a fair bit of control in your hands.

Ouija board

The infamous kids game works around the same way a pendulum does, except there is a planchette that slides over the board. This is a call and response based tool much like a pendulum. However, it is a little easier for the ghost to manipulate and control. Which is where all the stupid stories of ghosts completely taking over and fucking up shit takes place. Also, half of the biggest problems are just humans being humans which means victims of groupthink. So... stupidity. Someone freaked so you all freak...the energy gets bad and shit happens. Do your best to remain calm and just work through it.

Also no. ZOZO XOX 2O2O etc does not want your ass. Many spirits claim that shit to get a rise out of you anyway. Guys...no, I swear it does not happen. This is main character energy that none of us have...or want! Even if a demonic entity came in to fuck with you, there are plenty of other ways to do it. Be fucking for real.

Please remain kind and courteous to who you contact. Do not let your paranoia about this tool make you do stupid things. Always say goodbye when you are finished. Try and stay as calm as you can.

Never. Ever leave the planchette on the board unattended. Lest you get an unwanted guest or one that'll overstay their welcome.

Crystal Ball

Crystal Balls are a good way to detect energies. This is normally used in a private setting cause it desires a lot of concentration. Now, I'm admittedly not that knowledgeable in this because I don't use my crystal ball often.

Also, your crystal ball doesn't have to be clear. Mine is obsidian and I love her.

When having your question, focus on it and concentrate. Make sure it is open ended. I mean you can have yes or no, but it's gonna be a bitch to decipher a yes or no answer.

Close your eyes and let the answers come to you in the forms of images and colors and such, examine all you can as just let your intuition work.

Sounds simple but its a rather interesting art form to work on. Symbols and such can confuse you and it's heavy on your interpretation. I'm sure there's books and stuff out there for a general view of this symbol you see might mean this or that but...largely, this is a true test of how you read your intuition.

I'd do it more, if I wasn't closeted and lived with nosy closed-minded people.

C'est la vie.

One important thing though...don't leave your ball uncovered. Especially if it's clear. That's how you end up with burned shit. Those bitches are like mega magnifying glasses. And it happens faster than you think. Science is scary.

Mirror/Water Scrying

Mirror and water scrying is kind of the same as a crystal ball except it's a quicker and often less expensive way to work on your divination.

Some people have a specific mirror that they black out and scry that way. Others have a scrying bowl made for divination alone. It's just as good. You can use any bowl or mirror however. Just be sure to cleanse the area before you start and after you're done.

Some thank the water used for divination before putting it down the sink or in the earth. But that's more of an individual's choice/belief/faith than anything else.

Lots of occultism and spiritualism has a thing with mirrors being portals, openings, etc to the otherside and can bring some unwanted visitors.

And as someone who now sleeps with their mirror facing the wall now, I will say I believe a lot of what people say on that.

I want a goodnights sleep damnit.

Just be sure to cleanse your tools after use. Better safe than sorry.

ETC.

There's a lot of creative ways people can use these tools and magic. So don't think of magic as a recipe for how to be a witch or do witchcraft. That's half the fun of witchcraft.

Discovery.

Finding ways to do things, to hear, to see, to communicate. Yes there are certain tools that work better than others but, we as individual people also work in different ways.

There's a psychic out there who reads asparagus like bones. There's someone who will scry with a puddle on the ground they found. People have their own methods and ways to work their magic and we should learn from them. So if you have some non normal tactic or even something unsual, embrace it to the fullest.

I divine with music. If you ask me it's Apollo's influence. My spirits communicate with music.

When I meet people and get a good vibe on them a song comes to mind, and even if I forget your face, your voice, who you are, that song will remind me what I think of you. Songs pop up in my head when people associated with it are close.

I'm not going to say I'm the only one in the world who does this, cause that would be some bs. But its my tactic and its natural.

Do what is natural for you and not what other witches say you should do.

Even me, I beg you not to try and emulate or follow my advice down to a T if it doesn't work for you. Don't force it to work.

I am just one person, one voice spouting some advice. Take what you can from it, take what helps and work your own path. And then in turn do the same. I'm a path offering person not a director. But that's...just...me...

"But Sol, how do I speak to spirits?"

Talk.

Yeah, that simple. Talk.

This can be in a lot of forms. Some write and burn letters to ancestors, or past family members. Set up a placement for talking to them. Admittedly, a lot of spirit work and communication is experimental. We just warn you over some things because they've happened enough for us as a collective to go ah, a pattern.

I have urns at home so it's pretty easy to say hello in that case.

I am NOT telling you to go into a graveyard and just go wussap. No. Some spirits don't want your tomfuckery. Also if they're feeling really chatty all at once you might get overwhelmed and you will not have a good time. Read the dead room.

Open yourself up. WARD YOURSELF FIRST! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS. But yeah open yourself up. Learn how to open your pathways and close them first. That comes with meditating. Yes, this is why damn near all of us nag the shit out of y'all about meditating.

Just talk and listen. It won't happen immediately. It takes time and a careful ear. Remember signs to look for. You might spot them before you hear them. Small instances of shadows out the corner of your eye. A touch from nowhere, a shiver down your spine. Other things going off or being moved, etc. Slowly, someone or something will receive your message and try to respond in kind.

When you get these small responses, just keep calm and say hello or acknowledge what they've done.

"Oh, someone's here"

"Hello there"

"Are you still here?"

It'll be awkward (try to remember where you are, don't be a weirdo in public), but overtime you'll get better at it.

Conclusion!

Like any skill, spirit communication takes practice.

There are a vast plethora of ways to communicate with tools that I haven't mentioned as well, like automatic writing which is a pretty good beginner way to jump in.

Just have a pen/pencil on paper, write what comes to mind. Its a good way to practice hearing and catching signs as well.

And something I will never stop saying is you don't have to take this journey alone! Especially if you don't want to. Find someone experienced to start this journey with. Someone who calms you, who can support you. Support and asking for help is good. Last thing any of us want is for you to get hurt or scared out of doing this if this is something you really want to do. So call us, talk to us. Confide in more experienced people.

So many times on this site and other places, we are begging to form this beautiful network so we can help one another, give advice, hang out etc.

We are right here, just reach out for us. You'll get a hand back in kind.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #spirit work #witch community #spirit witch #advice #witchcraft basics #witch tips #witchcraft tips #witchcraft for beginners #baby witches

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holymaccaronii · 7 months ago

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“From a very young age, Adam had always behaved as an introverted and shy child that craved the idea of keeping his life slow and simple. His high intellect was quite notable since his early years, but he only showed interest towards a compact area of hobbies consisting of reading, writing, and occasionally if he felt inspired enough, sketch drawing. His biggest dream had always been to publish a book or novel of any sorts, of any kind, he just wanted to see his name as the author of some book for sale in a small library around the corner of the street. He never managed to finish any of his projects however, and he blames his first breakup during adolescence to have taken all of his light and motivation away ever since. Sealing all strong feelings inside his heart, he recurred to keep all of his verses and stories to himself in a small, miserable book that could hardly be closed shut.

To worsen the matter, his dreams were seen further out of reach after he was forced to join the [REDACTED] project, making him begin an exhaustive process of preparation that would allow him to survive after the population was massacred, with his hopes and dreams as a price to pay.”

Aaaaand we begin the survivor concept design reveal with this guy! (excuse his face, just like the others he has seen the horrors).

Adam is supposed to take Ted’s “place” in the group, making him the youngest and the protagonist too. To explain a bit about the dynamic that I have liked so far for the survivors, they are young adults that got their dreams taken away by the war that eventually led AM to kill everyone. I like to imagine that all those 750 humans on the moon were either important people or the most intelligent YOUNG minds the government could find in the least time possible. So along with many other teens (at the time) he was forced to begin training for this project and dedicate the rest of his life to the restoration of Earth (supposedly). Adam’s name is based off Adam from the Bible, referencing that he was the first human to set foot on the newly born Earth/nature created by BE.

About his suit, this is supposed to be the design the humans used during cryogenic sleep. This could be considered an accurate representation of Adam right after exiting his capsule, except for the small detail that he’d have his head shaved (LATER ON BE GIVES EM HAIR OKAY).

Each survivor has a dream they abandoned for the sake of this project, each survivor has a dream that could only be lived in a simulation at this point… perhaps the Earth has something to offer for them?

[This lore/dynamic might stay as canon, but is still considered a wip].

#ihnmaims #am ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #ihnmaimsplanbau #ihnmaims oc #ihnmaims au #ihnmaims am #be ihneaimc #ihneaimc #i have no eyes and i must cry #adam ihneaimc

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loves0phelia · 7 months ago

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Hi! can i request miguel x model reader. She’s apart of the spider verse but does modeling on the side nd she’s really famous :-)

Canon

Summery: Being a model and a spider woman makes your life really complicated.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: violence/fighting, angst, grammar mistakes

A/N: This is probably not what you had in mind at all but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx

You always liked modelling. At the age of 3, you dressed up as Cinderella and walked in your aunt’s May living room, moving your small hips side to side and flipping your hair. At the age of 5 Aunt May brought you shopping and every time you tried on a new piece of clothing you came out of the dressing room to show it off.

At the age of 7 your parents learned about your new passion and being the greedy people that they were, they started hiring agent after agent to control your every move.

Your aunt tried to talk them out of it but they never stopped forcing you into gigs that you shouldn't have been in. You thought they only wanted to make your dream of becoming a model come to life but they only wanted the money. They pushed you around every stage and you became successful but you never knew until you grew up and picked up a journal your parents were hiding in their offices and saw yourself on the front cover.

You didn't know how to react when they died during a plane crash on their way to Japan to make a deal with your modelling career. You thought being thrown around by your parents was a normal childhood, you were lost.

When you got bitten by the spider that turned you into the one and only Spider-Woman of your universe. Your life took a drastic turn.

The freedom of being a spider person brought you so much happiness. Aunt May had taken you in after the passing of your parents and now that she was in charge of you, she made sure you would only model if you desired to. Nobody would force you.

Since it was still your dream and you didn't experience the real pleasure of your passion you decided to start from scratch. You forgot your old professional life, the life your parents forced on you and started fresh. You got yourself a new agent that became your best friend. You told her absolutely everything. And you learned to be confident.

You saved the city at night and lived your dream during the day.

What was supposed to be a normal night of patrolling and chilling at the top of a building turned into a multiverse mess?

Your Hair was flowing in the air as you hung upside down eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich when your spidey sense started tingling. Your head snapped towards Times Square and you saw lightning bolts strike multiple times. Some were electric blue and some were neon yellow.

You ditched your lunch and quickly pulled down your mask. With your purple-ish webs, you swung to the scene.

The guy had his hood up but you could see his glowing skin through the vest he was wearing. It was like his veins were filled with electric fuel. He was absorbing every possible electricity making everyone scream in fear. New York was usually intensely bright and now every light was fading. Your senses were tingling every time a civilian was getting close to being struck with a lightning bolt so while trying to understand what he was, you saved every passing stranger.

“Hey, you might want to stop doing that!” You shouted over the afraid people after putting down a small child into his mom's arms and tried to reason with the electric thief.

“I don't know what is happening. Everything feels so different here.” The guy growled and continued absorbing with his hands when he started yelling in pain. His body glitched like television static. He stopped and breathed heavily as if this pain had angered him.

“What the fuck” You whispered and curiously your hand lifted to touch a metal pole that was vibrating with electricity.

A bright orange web caught your wrist and pulled you away. you looked at where it came from and saw a portal. After a couple of seconds, the web shone brighter and made a pulsing sound and a Spiderman came through it. his web was still attached to you when he spoke.

“Do not touch that, you could get electrified” He said calmly, almost too calmly.

“Who the hell are you? How did you come through that? Do you know that guy?” you rambled out your question and he groaned under his mask.

“basta con las preguntas! (enough with the questions)” After having an A + in Spanish during high school you were confident you understood what he had said.

You rolled your eyes underneath your mask and went into action. You disconnected every powerline above the buildings and found an underground entrance to stop any power under there to try and make him weaker. You came back up and you saw that the other spider man was about to get struck and he did not react a little bit. Your senses screamed at you.

You caught his waist with your webs and tugged him to you making his back contact with your chest. He was so tall you couldn't even see when the bolt that was previously about to hit him, exploded on the ground.

“Do you not have spider sense or what? You could've died and I don't even know you!” you screamed and let him free of your webs. With a frustrated sigh, he called out to a girl named Lyla. Your brows Furrowed, now who the hell is Lyla? you thought.

“What in the...” you whispered when a small lady appeared by his shoulder.

“Call for back up”

“magic words?” she teased and leaned closer to his face. You just stood there completely confused.

“Now. Lyla” Even with his mask on, you could see his grumpy expression.

“You got to say them” She smiled brightly, unfazed by his grumpiness.

“call for backup, please”

“Yeah, I already did 5 minutes ago” She laughed at him and disappeared into thin air.

“UGH, you always do this!” as if on cue the same orange portal from earlier opened 5 meters away from you and a pregnant spider woman riding a motorcycle came through it.

“And I thought I was special,” you said before you three turned back to face the villain.

“It's time you go back to earth 199999,” The blue spider said, once again your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is Earth 199999?

Knowing it wasn't time for questions, your webs came out of your wrist attached to the arms of the electric creature trying to restrain him from using his powers. but he was too powerful and it was useless. His arms ripped apart your webs making his electric blue fuel travel to your wrist, frying your left web shooter. Even though you had less power now, you noticed how the lightning reached for something in the air. In almost a second a helicopter came crashing down at the speed of light.

with only one wrist to shoot your webs, you managed to catch it, all on your own making a bouncy platform of web between the buildings. You rushed to the door and pulled it open.

The civilians thanked you for saving their lives and quickly ran away from the scene.

“He's unbeatable!” the pregnant woman who tried wrapping her webs around him screamed.

slowly you looked around trying to find a solution. you blocked out every noise and your eyes landed on a fire hydrant.

“Move away!” you screamed at the two spiders and they looked at you like you were crazy, but seeing you had a plan, they dropped what they were doing.

with your force, you pulled away from the ground the red fire hydrant and water splashed everywhere. Left, right, up, down, and on the villain. He screamed and glitched again as the water came in contact with his skin. He yelled in pain as if water burned like acid.

The flashing lights of Times Square stopped and everything became bright again as he fell to the ground. Smoke was coming out of his body and his skin stopped glowing and went back to its original color.

“He's not defeated, we have to send him back to his original earth so his Spiderman can deal with it,” The man said before tapping down on the watch tied to his wrist. A portal opened in front of us and the villain was pushed back into his universe.

“It can't be that easy, right?” you were standing there as if nothing had ever happened it seemed impossible.

“It is that easy. He was in the wrong universe and by sending him back, his very own Peter Parker would take care of him” Both of them started walking away and you stayed behind so unbelievably confused. Peter Parker? That kid you knew in high school? Peter Parker?

“what about her?” you didn't hear when the woman spoke to Miguel.

“she found the solution and she did all that with one web shooter” she added to her previous sentence.

“She's careless, she was almost electrified. If I wasn't there this earth would have fallen to the ground” he grumbled.

“Remember the time when you saved Gwen and you were almost attacked by that thing made out of paper because you weren't paying attention?” she reminded him.

“We all make mistakes, Miguel. We need someone like her in the team.” without saying one more word she walked through the portal while he stayed behind. He turned around to look at you. Your arms were at your side and you watched the damage the villain left in your city.

“y/n,” he said gently and you jumped before turning.

“how- how do you know my name” You touched your face to make sure your mask was still on. It was.

“I am Miguel O'Hara. Leader of Spider Society and dedicated to the security of the multiverse” You looked up at him as he spoke.

“I know all spidermen and spider women of every universe, including you. This watch will allow you to travel between the earth's freely” he extended his arm towards you with the orange band in his hand.

you took it from his hand and put it on your wrist. it glowed blue then yellow and red as it was adapting to you.

—--

A few months later you settled in Earth 2099 at the Spider Society, you learned you were far from being the only Spider-woman. You managed to continue working in your universe but it was really difficult. And you were also informed about canon events.

“Miguel?” you knock and enter his lab. His big platform was up in the air as he worked on whatever he needed to work on.

“I'm just letting you know I'm going back to my universe for a few days. My agent told me I have an important gig with Vogue” You smiled as you yelled up. Vogue was always your biggest company deal.

his platform began getting down. “Are you sure modelling is a good idea? Now that your spider woman, one of your fans could discover your identity” he did not look at you once which was odd for Miguel. Usually, he had no problem talking to you. Maybe he was just grumpy today.

“It will be fine. I had no problem before”

“Are you sure you can trust everyone who knows about your identity?” he asked, now you were confused.

“Of course, only my aunt May and my best friend know about me” he shook his head disapprovingly but let you go back home anyway. the entire time while getting photographed for the cover, you wondered why he was asking such questions. You continued your day full of autographs and interviews and you had a lot of fun.

“I'm home Aunt May” You entered your house and heard nothing but the TV playing.

“May?” you asked louder and made your way to the living room.

You saw her sitting there emotionless and bells tingled in your head. You knew something bad happened. Your eyes shifted from your aunt to the TV she was so concentrated on and saw yourself beside a picture of you as spider woman. You grabbed the remote and lifted the volume.

“An anonymous source just confirmed to us, that the well-known model Y/n Y/l/n is the vigilante that has been roaming our street. She is the one who has killed various civilians instead of saving them! She is the killer who has been terrorizing our lives!” on cue a loud knock came to the door.

“Police!” your heart pounded in your ears and your aunt stood up. Her hands came up to your face and she held your cheeks gently. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You have to go. Leave, and don't come back. They can't find you” she said in a gentle voice and the police officers were beginning to try forcing the door open.

your feet were frozen in place but she grabbed your spider suit that was sitting on the couch and pushed it in your hands.

“Go. I love you Y/n” She kissed your forehead and as a tear left your eye you clicked your watch to open a portal and disappeared inside of it. You were sobbing and you fell to your knees. Who could have betrayed you? Why would they call you a killer? you've never killed anyone all you did was protect your city, your universe.

a hand came to your shoulder and you turned to see Miguel standing over you. He looked at you with pity.

“You knew that was gonna happen didn't you?” you let out another sob before he nodded confirming your assumption.

“Why didn't you tell me?! Everyone thinks I'm a killer, aunt may is in trouble. I could've stopped it” You were angry at him.

“I tried mi vida, I tried to warn you by asking if you were sure but it didn't work and I couldn't tell you directly. it would have disrupted the canon and, It's my job to assure the canon stays intact.” he sinks to his knees next to you and holds you against his chest.

his lips connected with your forehead in a comforting manner.

“What am I going to do? I have nowhere to go, no more dreams, no more job. I knew a secret identity and fame wasn't a good match but I didn't think it would go that way. My life is gone ” You wiped your face but it was useless since your salty tears were still coming out of your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” he whispered in your hair. Even though it had angered you that he didn't warn you clearly about what was going to happen, you knew he had no choice.

Just like you have no choice but to stay here on Earth 2099 with him.

At the same time in every other universe you existed in, you were choosing Spiderman over modelling out of love.

Even though being a model was everything you ever wanted. You would have ended up choosing Spiderman even in this one.

#miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara angst #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x reader fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse

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blackbird-brewster · 4 months ago

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Mom!Em Fic Recs

@bau-babygirl requested: Fics featuring Emily as a mom [X]

JJ/Emily + Kids

[Find all of these and more fluff in my Domestic Jemily collection on AO3]

Mother's Day by w00t4ewan (me) Rated: G || WC: 715 Summary: Henry helps Emily surprise JJ on Mother's Day

Dreams Do Come True by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 2000 Summary: Emily and JJ take Henry to Disneyworld on their first family vacation.

Breakfast by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 840 Summary: Emily tries to let JJ sleep in and winds up with her hands full of a certain toddler.

Love is an Open Door by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 1010 Summary: Emily and Henry work together to plan an unforgettable evening for JJ.

Jemily Ficlet Archives by w00t4ewan Rated: M || WC: 31,000+ Summary: An unrelated collection of Jemily ficlets and headcanons which were originally posted on my tumblr and up until now hadn't been shared on AO3.

Sand by @otahkoapisiakii (Phoenix_Falls) Rated: G || WC: 2630 Summary: JJ and Emily incorporate Henry in their wedding ceremony

Steps by Phoenix_Falls Rated: G || WC: 4670 Summary: Modified prompt from tumblr: "you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby"

Darwin by Phoenix_Falls Rated: G || WC: 831 Summary: Henry has an odd nickname. Likely takes place in the same verse as Steps, but 11 years later Mittens and Hats by @velutluna Rated: G || WC: 1944 Summary: JJ and Emily take their sons for a walk in a winter wonderland.

Perfect by velutuna Rated: G || WC: 660 Summary: A perfect evening at the home of the Prentiss-Jareau family.

Happy Birthday! by @ellegreenawayslover Rated: G || WC: 2028 Summary: Emily’s feelings during her birthday, her feelings years ago, and how she finally is truly happy with her life and how it turned out.

Morning Cartoons and Middle Names by @vhsrights Rated: G || WC: 2634 Summary: A shift in the numbers on his digital clock indicated that the time had arrived. 7:15 am. No sound of an alarm echoed through the upper floor of the Prentiss-Jareau house. There was pin-drop silence, and then the quiet chaos began.

Bonus: My Master List of MomEm Headcanons & Fanworks

Other Fics: Emily + Kids

A Year in the Life by @gaelic-symphony (thelarkascending) Tara/Emily || Rated: T || WC: 8455 Summary: Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

handprints on my soul by @prrentiss (unitchiefprentiss) Tara/Emily || Rated: T || WC: 32,000+ Summary: tara and emily after the events of just a dream. Maternal Instinct by thelarkascending Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1207 Summary: Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange Halloween Interlude by w00t4ewan Tara/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1573 Maternal Instinct by thelarkascending Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1207 Summary: Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange

Bluey Mom by @alexblakeisgay (ArwenLalaith) Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 2713 Summary: The adventures of Emily Prentiss as she navigates running the BAU, being a wife and mother, and her relationship with gender.

Oh, My Darling Clementine by ArwenLalaith Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 930 Summary: Emily Prentiss is not above bribing her toddler daughter to get her to call her Mama…

Book Ends by ArwenLalaith Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 18,500 Summary: Emily's life revolves around Lux - her four year old autistic daughter. She hasn't had a relationship since she got pregnant and certainly isn't looking to start one when she meets Alex Blake: phenom children's author.

Alex's life since her husband left and her son passed has revolved around writing and little else. She's been a recluse for years when her agent finally convinces her to make an appearance at her latest book launch. Little does she know, she's about to meet a four year old girl that will change her life....

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #jemily #tara lewis #temily #alex blake #cm fic recs #cm reference #cm fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #reply post #momily #momem #the life and times of emily prentiss #masterlist

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kerubimcrepin · 6 months ago

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Liveblog: Wakfu Season 1 (episodes 1-9)

NOTE: I will be doing rewatch liveblogs of multiple episodes per post, because the focus of this blog isn't on the Wakfu cast, and I am not as well versed in their characterisations, so I won't even have much analysis to show you. Sorry ^^;;

Episode 1 - The Child from the Mist

I promise not to get sappy, but seeing season 1 after all these years does make me quite emotional. Ah, how the time flies.

Thank god I'm not a Yugo lore blog. I'd have to translate this too, as if I didn't go through enough psychological trauma. 💀

The sheer Bitch Olympics that would happen if Ruel opened a restaurant and you-know-which-three-men entered it, would cause at least 5 casualties.

I need this so bad. You have no idea how much I need this.

Episode 2 - Yugo the Eliatrope

I hang onto every mention of Bonta like a lifeline. I know Ruel might be lying, but imagining him having some marginal connection though like, Ruel's buddies knowing some people who know buddies of Jurgen-Crepins, is making me giddy.

Remember this tree. It will be important later.

Episode 3 - The Black Crow

Guys I think Ruel likes Bonta.

Anyway now I'm imagining the Bitch Olympics that would happen if he tried to haggle with Kerubim. Pangaea would explode.

I like to imagine this is the sort of life that would await Kerubim, had Lou not been smart enough to flee from the relationship.

[remembers Joris canonically does cartography as a hobby] I think I hauve covid.

Also yes, this episode is the return of the one and only Grav'Mar'Av.

Episode 4 - The Ugly Pageant

[linguistics major voice] It's just that y'know I really wonder what Ecaflip tongue is like and and. Personally, I think Joris is fluent in Ecaflip tongue, but can be a bit rusty at reading and writing it, while—— [I am forcefully taken off stage by the police]

Episode 5 - The Magnificent Five

One of my life dreams is writing a fic that's set during the Wakfu manga, or shortly after it, with Joris on the ship from the manga, or with the Wakfu cast being quests at his home.

The reason I want to do this, is that political discussions between Evangelyne and Joris would go so hard, whether they agree or disagree. They're both the sort of person who can masterfully turn every innocuous topic to Ogrest's Chaos/Monarchy/Climate Change/War. That, and I am a big believer in Evanglelyne&Joris&Amalia friendship (since Amalia and Eva probably had known him as kids, due to politics.)

Episode 6 - Vampyro

I think everyone who wears an enchanted cape to look cooler is a bit of a try-hard edgelord. Sorry not sorry, but this applies to Julith as well.

Episode 7 - Poisonous Beauty

[approaches mic yet again, more haggard, obviously beaten] Rabies confirmed to exist in Krosmoz.

Episode 8 - Xav the Baker

This moment is so important to me. You have no idea how important it is. Yugo and Eva both know that there's not much that he can do to bribe her. And its hilarious.

[puts on tinfoil hat] We know that Chtibrout Town and Xav the Baker are in Amakna. This means that this town is very famous for its baking — enough for a foreign king to be interested, and for a person from Bonta to come to compete here.

That, or this line of thinking is just a sign of my declining mental state.

Episode 9 - Ruel's Bag

The map lore deepens.

A third underwear pervert has hit the pentagon.

#krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #wak1 #ro liveblogs dofus

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the-guilty-writer · 2 years ago

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I'd Better Ask Emily

Request from anon: Hear me out😅 Spencer Reid x daughter!reader where the reader is a lesbian but is to scared to tell Spencer and Spencer someone find out by accidentally reading her diary or something?

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

Summary: When Spencer goes looking for your school notebook and accidentally reads your diary instead he goes to the BAU bisexual badass for help.

A/N: I really wanted to do this justice so there's angst and fluff and bisexual Emily Prentiss because she had more chemistry with women than any male love interest. I’m also a sucker for Reid and Prentiss friendship so there is a good chunk of it in here.

CW: reader is gay, Emily is bi, let’s be honest everyone on the team is a little fruity, suggestions that Emily wasn’t supported, coming out of the closet, reader goes to social justice march.

---

“And my math homework is on the table for you to check over!” It was a Friday morning and you were in a rush to get out the door. There was a social justice march beginning at the national mall in half an hour and your AP government teacher had convinced the principal to cancel classes so every student could participate. Plus you were getting extra credit.

“What about your reading summaries?” Your dad asked you. Spencer always proof-read your graded assignments, per your request. It helped to have his genius input, though sometimes you wondered if he went easy on you. Since you were a child, you’d never made a craft or drew a picture or wrote something that your dad didn’t love.

“In my notebook on my desk,” you said hastily. “Bye, love you!”

“Love you too. Don’t get-” The door slammed shut. Spencer sighed. “Arrested.”

He made his way to your room. For the most part you were tidy, but your desk was a mess. Colored pens and highlighters, loose leaf paper with to-do lists, a stack of books that was falling over onto the jumbled surface. Spencer began to sift through the clutter, fixing the stack of books, putting your writing utensils in a pile, looking around for your notebook- but of course you hadn’t clarified which notebook. By the time he was done sorting through the mess there were five of them total. He began to read through them, trying to identify which one you wrote your reading summaries in.

It was down to the last two. Spencer grabbed the next one in the stack and opened to a random page:

I’ve never been one for poetry, but I find myself wanting to write verses on how her eyes crinkle when she laughs and the way her hips sway as she walks.

That sounded English-y and promising. Spencer kept reading.

I imagine her skin is soft, like velveteen, and her hair like expensive silk. The smell of her perfume is that of vanilla and honey; it reminds me of summer.

The sound of her voice is like a siren’s music. When she calls my name I can’t help but get up from my spot in the cafeteria and-

Wait.

There weren’t cafeterias in the book you were reading for school.

Spencer read the passage back again and again. He couldn’t help himself- he flipped to the front page to start from the beginning and finished reading the entirety of your diary in two minutes. There were entries spanning over two years, but one thing stuck out to Spencer more than anything else:

You talked about girls.

You talked liking girls.

Of course the diary contained passages on other things, like the day you visited your dream school and a cute dog you had met at the park… but you were dreaming of cute girls. And you never told him.

Spencer closed the diary and put it on your desk. His only thought: I’d better ask Emily about this.

---

Emily added a small amount of creamer to her coffee and went to sit down at her desk, highly regretting that she’d put her paperwork until the last minute again. The stack of files on her desk was beginning to rival Hotch’s, and that was not a competition she wanted to win. She sat down at her desk and opened up a file, pen in hand ready to go when-

“Um, hey Emily. Can I ask you something?”

If it was anyone but Spencer, she probably would have told them to ask her during the lunch break she wasn’t going to take, but there was a hesitancy in his voice that made her stop. Emily knew she looked like she might bite someone if they bothered her- Morgan had already gotten a taste of her mood that morning- but Spencer never seemed to notice when her annoyance rose to the surface. If he was uncomfortable it was because he had his own problem. He needed her help.

And she needed his speed reading to get through all the files on her desk.

“Morning, Reid,” she said, her annoyance turning to concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Well, I- uh- I kind of saw something I shouldn’t have this morning and I wanted to ask you about it.” He rubbed his neck nervously.

Emily tried to keep a straight face as she thought of every embarrassing teenage incident captured on video or sin-to-win photograph that could possibly be out there for Spencer to come across.

“What is it?” Emily asked, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

“You like women romantically, right?”

Okay… that didn’t rule out embarrassing adolescent mistakes or weekends in Atlantic City.

“Yes.”

“Because I accidentally read (Y/N)’s diary this morning and she writes a lot about being attracted to girls but she hasn’t told me yet and-”

“You read your daughter’s diary?!” Emily wasn’t sure if she was more shocked that Reid would do such a thing, or relieved that her privacy was still intact. “Reid-”

“It was an accident!” he said. “I was looking for her reading summaries for school and she told me it was in the notebook on her desk and then I just saw it…”

Emily hoped the devastation on Spencer’s face was for the right reasons.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

Yeah… it was for the right reasons.

Emily sighed, leaning her elbows on her desk. “I’m sure that you demonstrate your open-mindedness at home-”

“I do.”

“And I’m sure you tell (Y/N) that you love her no matter what-”

“All the time.”

“But that doesn’t make it any less scary.”

Spencer didn’t respond.

“Coming out isn’t easy. No matter how sure you are that you will be accepted there’s always a little bit of doubt. There’s always the fear that it’ll change the fundamental way a person loves you and that you’ll never treat them the same.” Emily pushed away memories- memories filled with pain and relief and anxiety and frustration. The only thing that eased the thoughts were that she knew you wouldn’t have to go through what she did; not with Spencer as your dad. “She’s probably feeling really afraid, even if she doesn’t show it.”

“How can I make it better?”

Spencer’s genuine love for you- a love that every child should get to experience- made Emily feel as though she was falling apart and being put back together again all at the same time.

“Just let her know you love her,” Emily said. “A little goes a long way.”

---

As you walked up to the door of the apartment you felt like you were floating on cloud nine; for two years you had been crushing on this girl you shared classes with. You knew she was openly and unapologetically gay- making it a point to post pictures of herself on social media with pride flags and holding hands with her now ex-girlfriend. They had broken up about eight months ago and ever since then you’d hope that she would notice you. For three months the two of you had hung out in group settings- getting to know one another with other people there as a buffer- but you’d gathered your courage today to ask her out on a date. And she said yes.

“So I guess the march was good?”

You were so distracted from the events of the day you hadn’t even noticed your dad was home.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, startled. “It was good. Really good. Lots of… social justice and things.” You cursed yourself for not having a better answer. You should have been good at faking feelings and answers by now, having been raised by a profiler. Even then, Spencer always saw right through you.

The high you were on came crashing down- your dad always saw right through you. There was no way you could go on a date, let alone your first date, without him catching on. Discomfort grappled with your stomach and anxiety bubbled in your chest. You tried to reach for the courage you had earlier, but it was gone.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Your dad walked over and put a gentle hand on your arm.

“Uh-” You swallowed. “Yeah- yeah, I’m fine.”

Your dad suddenly looked weary. It was the same look when he told you he was going to miss your tenth birthday because of a case, or when he got a call that your grandmother’s medication wasn’t working as well as they had hoped.

“(Y/N),” he started. “I love you. I really hope you know that. And I’m glad you had a good day.”

“I love you too, dad,” you said, waiting for him to break bad news. But it didn’t come. He just gave you his awkward tight-lipped smile before tucking your hair behind your ear and turning away.

There was something about the gesture and the words that called the courage back to you. Well, some of the courage.

“I’m going on a date,” you blurted. Spencer turned back to you. You tried to look for clues on his face or in his body language that would tell you what he was thinking or feeling, but you were too caught up in your own head to make sense of any of it. “I asked someone out on a date and they said yes.”

Your father smiled wide. “That’s great, honey! Is it anyone I know?”

“Oh- um-” Spencer didn’t know many of your friends in person, but he knew them from what you told him, and what Garcia could dig up on them. “Yeah. They’re in some of my classes.”

You waited for your dad to call you out on the vagueness of your language, but he didn’t. He only continued to smile and encourage you to go on- is it a study date or a real date? Real date. Weekend or after school? Weekend. Are you taking the metro or do you want him to drive you? Actually it was a walkable distance.

The more you talked, the more excited you got. You were still careful to control your language, but the bravery was beginning to grow. You thought about taking a deep breath, but you didn’t. Instead you just said, “And she’s a girl.”

The world stilled for just a moment- your heart which was beating fast with excitement was now racing with panic. Your stomach was in knots and you felt your hands begin to shake. “I’m gay, dad.”

Spencer placed a gentle hand over yours, stopping it from quivering. The look in his eyes couldn’t be described as happy, but it wasn’t sad. No… it was peace. It was content.

“I know,” he said.

“You- you do?” The weight began to lift off your shoulders, but it was replaced by a bit of shock.

“Yes.” Spencer smiled. “Next time you should clarify which of your notebooks you wrote your assignments in.” Both of you chuckled, and you felt your body unwind as tension left your muscles. “And if it’s any consolation, I think your poetry is great.”

You smiled. “You always love everything I write.”

Your dad pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you.”

There was no more tension now- no more fear and no more doubt- just you and your dad being excited about your first big crush and your first big date. And it didn’t matter that it was with a girl. Spencer would always love you no matter what.

"So," he said. "What are you going to wear?"

You thought about the clothes you had, but none of your outfits seemed just right.

"I think I might go shopping for something new," you said.

Spencer smiled. You had a shopping buddy- the same one since you were little.

"So I guess I'd better ask Emily."

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader #emily prentiss x platonic!reader

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handspunyarns · 1 month ago

Text

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-One

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 8K

chapter summary: Marathel awakes from surgery, struggles with her feelings for Din, and tastes her first ice cream

warnings:  angst, mention of female bodily functions and medical issues, past abuse, mention of murder and infanticide, mental illness, English and Mando’a cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter

Marathel, wake up.

Marathel was dreaming, and she knew it. She’d been dreaming this same dream for quite some time. And now, a new dream section had been added. Knowing that it was a dream, however, did not assuage her fear or her misery.

In the new part of the dream, which now served as a new beginning to her original dream, she was staggering through the Hold grounds, surrounded by a sea of Dahls, all growling and chattering, saying horrible things to her — saying that she was a whore, that she was a murderer, that it was all her fault that all the boy children were dying, and that she deserved all the anguish she was suffering.

In her dream, Marathel could only speak the Oldtalk, which the girls all learned in the kitchen as the women spoke to each other, an almost secret language to separate themselves from the men, who only used the Oldtalk for pejoratives and cruelty.

As Marathel stumbled, tripping over the blood-hungry Dahls and the corpses of boy babies, she began the apology verse of the only song, brokenly wailing, “Rwy’n wethi tir’ch … Rwy’n  … daererth … {I broke your heart … trust … broken …}”. She ran forward to pick up a boy-child before a Dahl could get to it, but it was ripped from her hands, and she cried out,  “Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal’wch … {Stop! Stop! No, DON’T! Stop, please …}” and began to cry.  She then whimpered,  “Th’ych’lyth, Din Djarin … gaal’wch, gaal’wch th’ych’lyth … {Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}”

But Din Djarin would not come back to her and he never would. The Dahls continued to tell her that while filling her head with other horrible things: that it was her fault, that this was all she deserved, that they, the Dahls, were the only ones who ever loved her, Din Djarin did not love her, he’d never loved her, that she was theirs and theirs only.

“ Dwy’ti'n ryl’uff wrtha ei.  Dwy’tu’ar!  Na, nid.  Th’ych’lyth, Din … gaal’wch. {You are lying to me. Liar! No, don’t. Come back to me, Din … please.}”

But Din Djarin did not come back to her, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words. She was now in a pit of despair so deep that not even the Mandalorian would be able to pull her out. Finally, she dropped to her knees and allowed herself to be swallowed up and drowned by the Dahls.

Marathel, you need to wake up now.

Then, Marathel knew she was back in her original dream. The dream she’d been having since she and Din began the journey back to Unmanarall.

She was standing in a small, dark place, whispering, pleading for forgiveness, “Rwy’n wethi tir’ch … Rwy’n  … daererth … {I broke your heart … trust … broken …}”. There was an open doorway before her, leading to somewhere outside where the sun was bright, but she was in deep darkness, far from the door.

We must leave, she heard Din say, before hearing his heavy boots walking on a metal floor. His silhouette filled the open doorway, and she could see Grogu just over his shoulder, looking away from her.

From her place in the darkness, she cried out,  “Gorau! Gorau! Na, NID! Gorau, gaal’wch … {Stop! Stop! No, DON’T! Stop, please …}” and began to cry.  She then whimpered,  “Th’ych’lyth, Din Djarin … gaal’wch, gaal’wch th’ych’lyth …{Come back to me, Din Djarin … please, please, come back to me…}”

But Din kept walking, through the doorway, into the sunlight, away from her, taking Grogu with him, leaving her in darkness. You will see us again, she heard him say placatingly, as if she were only a child who dropped her honey stick in the sand. Then, they disappeared into the bright sunlight.

“Dwy’ti'n ryl’uff wrtha ei!  Dwy’tu’ar!  Na, nid.  Th’ych’lyth, Din … gaal’wch! {You are lying to me! Liar! No, don’t. Come back to me, Din … please!}”

But Din and Grogu were gone, and she was alone in the darkness. The voices of the Dahls kept on, filling her heart and her mind and her soul with their foul words.

Marathel, wake up. Mando is worried about you.

“Dwy’tu’ar!” screamed Marathel.

“Whoa, okay, crankybritches, calm down. Take a deep breath through your nose … in … and out. Again, in … and out.”

Marathel began to understand that she was waking up, and she could see sunlight filtered through her eyelids. She obediently breathed in and out through her nose as she had been directed. She cracked her eyes open, squinting against the brightness. She was lying partially upright on a pillowy surface in a white place, which confused her, as her last memories had her lying twisted on the hard, rocky ground. Marathel turned her head, and could just see a person-shape through her blurry vision.

“That’s good, Marathel, keep breathing through your nose, in and out, deep breaths.”

Marathel blinked several times and rubbed her eyes until she was able to focus on the person, a woman, sitting next to her. Marathel opened her mouth and said, “You are very pink.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, yes, I am. Quite pink. Anything else?”

Marathel frowned. “Your hair is very blue.”

“Very good. I’m a Zeltron; have you ever heard of Zeltrons?” Marathel shook her head no. “Good. That way, I don’t have to tell you that everything you’ve heard about my people is exaggerated. My name is Siewan. Do you have any idea where you are?”

“No.”

“You’re on Canto Bight.”

Marathel took another deep breath and looked around the room. “This is not … a wedding chapel, I don’t think.”

Siewan laughed again. “Another good observation. Canto has more to offer besides casinos and wedding chapels. You’re in a medical center. You were in very bad shape when you came in. Do you remember anything about that?”

Marathel shook her head again. “No. I was … elsewhere. But who brought me …?”

“Does a Mandalorian sound familiar? With a little boy?”

Tears filled Marathel’s eyes. “He came back? He came back, he came back …” She began to weep.

Siewan gently took Marathel’s hand. “Yes, he came back. But what I need to know, honey … did he do anything to hurt you? Is he the reason why you’re hurt?”

“NO. Never! He saved me, he rescued me, he took me away from that horrible place; is he here? Is he still here? Is he all right? Where is he? Where’s Grogu?”

“Okay, honey, you need to breathe now, breathe. In and out. Breathe in … breathe out. He’s still here, so is his boy. Desperately worried about you.”

Marathel continued crying. “I need to see him, please, can I see him? Please?”

“You’ll see them both, but right now you need to breathe. You just had a procedure done, and you were under anesthesia for quite a long time. Since you don’t respond to bacta, they had a hard time keeping you properly sedated, so they gassed you up good and proper. You need to clear that stuff out of your lungs. Once you’ve settled a bit, we’ll take you to a room where you can see both of your fellas. Now, keep breathing, and eat some toast.”

Marathel dutifully took the proffered toast, and took a bite. It tasted like nothing — certainly not like bread — but she ate it anyway, and sipped on the sweet juice Siewan gave her. In between sips, Marathel would take another deep breath. “What … procedure? What did they do to me?”

“You had a D&C. Do you know what that is?” Marathel shook her head. “Well, I’m going to let the surgeon explain all the technical details, but among other things, a D&C removes all the horrible bleeding and clots of a really bad menstrual period. Your condition was quite severe. Has your cycle always been like that?”

“Yes, it’s always been …” It suddenly occurred to her that Din had to care for her while in that state. That he had to … never, never … a man? Helping a woman with her cycle? Ashamed, she began to cry again, and she could not seem to stop.

Siewan clicked her tongue, and said, pityingly, “Oh honey, they gassed you up bad, didn’t they?” She pulled up Marathel’s surgery notes on her tracker. “That gas, it will mess up your emotions right into hyperspace. Oh, and then they gave you a double dose of hormones to hopefully chill out your endometriosis, so you are just one hot mess.”

“My — my endo-what?”

“Your endometriosis.” Siewan looked back up at Marathel, who looked lost and confused. A torture cult, thought Siewan. Abused since childhood. She looked at the half-healed wound down Marathel’s forehead, considered the whip marks on Marathel’s back and Din’s horrific description of her brutal rape, and put some more pieces together. “We’re all here to help you, Marathel. You’re not alone, and you are safe here. I know you’re scared and confused, and that’s okay. But my job and the job of everyone here is you make you feel better and keep you safe. Pinky swear,” said Siewan, holding up her little finger. Marathel, confused, just looked at the nurse, who laughed. “Don’t leave me hanging, Marathel, pinky swear!” Marathel tentatively reached out with her own little finger, which Siewan grabbed with her finger tightly as she whispered, “Pinky swears are the strongest promises in the galaxy. So I promise to do my best job by you, and you promise to do your best to get better. Okay?”

Marathel tearfully nodded. “Okay. But … can you tell me why I have a horrible-smelling cold wet towels on my feet and face?”

Siewan laughed again. “Sweetie, on top of everything else, you got the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen. And since you don’t respond to bacta, we had to improvise. Those towels are soaked in an acidic fruit tea to help the heat and swelling. Some old-fashioned Moorjahone remedy. Apparently , sunburn’s a real issue there — but then they have three suns, so there you go. If we were on my home planet, we could have used hyigin plant leaves on you. Finish your toast and juice, and we’ll get you moved to your room, okay?”

Marathel nodded and ate the second piece of toast. It didn’t taste any better than the first piece, but it felt good to have something in her stomach. The juice was very sweet and reminded her of the sweet melon Cobb had bought her at the market. The memory sparked a tiny bit of joy within her heart, making her wonder if Din would be taking her back to Tatooine. She must have smiled, for Siewan said, “Well, it looks like you’re feeling a bit better. And I just got a page that you have your room assignment, so, we’re gonna motor.” The nurse laid Marathel flat on her gurney and deftly straightened out the tangle of IV and oxygen and blood transfusion tubes along with the sheet and blanket covering her.

“But what about Di-… I mean, the Bounty Hunter … will I get to see him?”

“We’ll grab him on the way. Oh, and … by the way, the little boy … he’s not exactly supposed to be on the ward, so I’ve asked your … Bounty Hunter to keep him concealed in that bag he carries out in the hallways. But he can be out in your room so long as the kid goes undercover when my boss shows up, cool?” Marathel nodded, face full of nerves and hope. Okay, there is a lot more going on between these two than I first thought. I don’t think it’s anywhere near as complicated as Mando says it is — certainly not from Marathel’s side of things.

Din, meanwhile, had been nervously waiting close to five hours for what he’d believed would be a two-hour procedure. He understood bacta tanks, not surgery. Grogu had been so fractious it was a struggle to get him to eat something that wasn’t the childcare’s pet lizard. Both their nerves just seemed to be completely frayed.

Din did take an opportunity to send Captain Teva some of the holos he took, slingshotting the message around a false sub-ether address some four systems over. An old trick, but still useful. He also spent some time reading over some forms that Karga had sent regarding the idea that Din had set into motion a couple weeks ago, just before Marathel dropped her bombshell that she wanted to return to Unmanarall.

Din sighed, his mind relentlessly mocking him with the memory of his original intentions. The plans he had made had been wishful thinking anyway — but to have them completely dashed as they had been was still painful. And now Karga was getting pushy, wanting answers that Din didn’t want to consider quite yet.

Then he finally heard the heavy doors that led to the surgical ward open, and his heart and stomach switched places as he wavered between anticipation and dread.

As Siewan pushed the gurney through the door from recovery to Marathel’s room, she spied Mando standing next to a wall, silently watching them approach. He gave some pats to the side of the bag he carried, and then appeared to hook his thumb on the strap; as they got closer, Siewan could just see Grogu’s tiny green hand clutching the large gloved thumb through an opening at the top of the bag. That is the most darling thing I’ve ever seen. And I can just tell by the way Mando’s standing there that he loves this woman. I wonder why he can’t see that?

Before they even reached him, Marathel was already extending her hand out towards him, quietly crying again. Din fell into step beside the gurney, allowing Marathel to clutch his hand tightly. By the time they got to her room, she was openly sobbing, holding his hand in both of hers against her cheek — unfortunately , the one covered by the fruit tea towel — as she cried. Siewan said, “Marathel, honey, you need to take a breath. And I need to borrow Mando for a moment. Mando, we need to shift her to the bed. You get her head, I’ll get her feet.” Din disengaged his hand from Marathel’s and helped Siewan move her into the bed, stepping back so that the nurse could get her tubes and bags and blankets arranged. Once Marathel was comfortable, she said, “Okay, I’m going to let you rest, Marathel. Lunch will be coming around in a little while. This is the secure ward, so your door will automatically lock. Each person who needs to come in here will announce themselves on the intercom before they can enter, and only those of us with the proper fob…” —Siewan held up her wristband— “… can open the door. Okay?” Marathel nodded, sniffling. Siewan patted Din’s bag, saying, “Okay, take care of her, big guy.” On a whim she patted the top of Mando’s helmet. “You too, Mando.” Siewan grabbed her chart tracker and left the room, closing the heavy door. There was a definitive click as the lock engaged.

Din turned back to Marathel. She sobbed once more, swiping the towel from her sunburned face. She then sat up and grabbed at him, pulling him down so he was half-sitting on the bed, hugging him hard and whimpering I’m so sorry over and over.

He let her clutch at him, swallowing a few tears himself. Grogu crawled out of the bag, now wailing as well, crying Mama until she scooped him up against her with her injured arm, ignoring the pain it caused her, peppering her boy with kisses.

Din, for his part, allowed one of his arms around her shoulders to help her stay upright … but that was all … and Marathel noticed. Forcing herself to calm down, she let go of Din and wiped her eyes. She felt a cloth being pressed into her hand, and she made herself chuckle. “How many of these have you given me?”

“Quite a few.”

“I really should start giving them back.” Marathel blew her nose, trying to smile.

“Yeah, no thanks, you can keep it now,” said Din, trying to be lighthearted. Marathel smiled wanly and leaned back in the bed, partially on her side, gazing at Grogu, who was now saying bad daws, bad daws repeatedly. “He’s saying …” began Din.

“… Bad Dahls, yes, Grogu, the Dahls were very bad.”

Din tilted his helmet. “How is it you always know what he’s saying so easily?”

Marathel shrugged, and said, “I’ve had a lot more practice with toddler talk than you, I think.” Marathel watched Din slide off the bed and pull up a chair alongside. “The Dahls … I didn’t know it was them, Din; truly, I didn’t. I didn’t realize they had such a power over me. And you … I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you were dragged into this. And Grogu, too. They’ve had a hold on me for such a long time … I guess I could no longer tell. It’s all my fault, and I’ve hurt you …”

“It’s all right, it’s not your fault …”

“But it is, it is. Even Rodanthe had a hold of you, and I didn’t know. She …” Tears spilled over again, and she turned her face into her pillow. Grogu patted her cheek, quietly saying sad Mama.

Din put his hand on the bed, saying, “Don’t … don’t talk about it right now, Marathel. Not until you’re stronger. You’ve had a rough time. You had surgery …”

“I know. Siewan told me.”

“… and you should rest for now. And breathe. The surgery nurse told me they had to use a lot of anesthesia on you, and it’s affecting your lungs.”

“Siewan told me that, too.”

“Well then, what do you need me around for?” teased Din, shrugging.

Unsure if he was joking, Marathel looked into his visor, tears threatening again. “Please don’t make fun like that, please, please.”

Din immediately leaned forward and gently patted her leg. “I’m sorry, Marathel. Of course, I’m not going anywhere. Besides, Grogu doesn’t show any signs of wanting to leave.”

Marathel looked down into the crook of her arm, where Grogu continued to stroke her face with loving touches, healing her sunburn and her cheekbone. Marathel leaned back against her pillow and closed her eyes, thinking, Din’s only calling me Marathel. Not mesh’la, not ner kart’a, not even ma’mwsh ha’laa. Just Marathel. Rodanthe untied us … and it seems that was the only thing holding us together, besides Grogu.

How long will I get to hold on to this little boy before I lose him, too?

The whispers of the Dahls came back into her head, and she clenched her hands into fists, willing them away. Once the whispers went silent, Marathel sighed and stared off into space. Din sat quietly, wondering if she was deep in thought, in pain, or simply being still. Her hands were still curled into fists, so he reached over and gently took one of her hands in his, straightening out her fingers and examining the spirals of metal encircling her fingers. He could see that several were crimped and bent out of shape, pinching her skin. As he carefully removed one and began reshaping the metal back into place, Marathel said, “Din?”

“Yes, Marathel?”

Her eyes closed and another tear spilled over. “How do you do it?”

Din tilted his helmet. “Do what?”

“How do you kill people and not have it destroy your soul?”

Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa. Din sighed, and said, “You did what you had to do, and it was no less than any of those men deserved.”

“But the children ...”

“That was not your fault.”

“But ...”

“It was not your fault,” said Din firmly. “What you need to remember is that some people ... don't deserve to breathe your air. They don’t deserve to be walking on the same ground as you.”

Marathel frowned and asked, “Does that work?”

Din shrugged. “Usually.” He knew, though, that murder — even for revenge — would be hard for Marathel to cope with, but he was unsure what would help her.

They stayed quiet for some time. Din carefully replaced the reshaped splint on her trembling finger, and removed another. Marathel cradled Grogu, and she indulged her family fantasy briefly before remembering that Din had had to care for her in the most intimate way. Yes, he’d rendered aid for her wounds the first time they’d left Unmanarall, but — Marathel wondered how a man existed like this one, so far outside her scope of what men were like that she could barely comprehend it. “Din, I …”

Din looked back up at her and waited. But she wouldn’t finish her sentence, and instead closed her eyes again. “What is it, Marathel?”

He watched her brow twitch before she answered, “You had to … tend to me again. And this time, you had to … but men don’t …” Her face flushed almost as red as her sunburn had been. “I’m so sorry …” she whispered before turning her face to the pillow.

Din leaned closer to her. “You needed help.”

“It’s so shameful …” She began curling up tighter on herself.

“It’s all right,” he said emphatically, gently squeezing her arm.

Marathel turned back to Din with dismay. “Oh, no, did Grogu ...?”

“Grogu was concerned, yes, but he seemed to accept my explanation…”

“Your explanation?”

“Of what was happening to you. He took it quite well, all things considered. I thought I would bungle the whole thing.”

Perplexed, Marathel asked, “What did you tell him?”

“That women, uh … have to prepare a place inside them, for a baby to implant and grow …”

“No ba,” sadly said Grogu, patting Marathel’s belly.

“ … but if the woman has no ba — as the kid says — then she … sheds the blood and tissue from her body. Now, you …”

“Hurt Mama.”

“That’s right, Grogu, I told you that hurt Mama has a hard time, and she needed a doctor to make it better. So … that’s what we did,” said Din with a chuckle, hoping that his misadventure would lighten her spirits.

“Men learn of such things on other planets?”

Din petted Grogu, who purred sleepily. “Some men do. I think they should.”

Marathel’s face was less red by now, but she still had an attractive blush in the fullness of her cheeks. She looked down at Grogu, snuggled up tight against her, with Din’s large hand on his little head, mere inches away from touching her. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Grogu sadly muttered, “No Patu Mama ba …” before drifting off to sleep.

Marathel looked up at Din, who grunted and said, “He asked me if you and I could have a baby. I told him no of course, since you can’t …”

“… and you’re shooting blanks.”

“Not … quite in those words, but yes.” He sighed. “I think that’s what he found most upsetting, besides not being able to help your pain.”

No babies for us, ever, Grogu, I’m sorry … thought Marathel, before amending her thoughts: But Din could possibly be fixed. He could possibly have children of his own. Not that any child would replace Grogu, but … his life will now continue beyond you, Marathel, you stupid useless cunt. You will remain nothing, not a mother, barely a woman, barely a person, barely even fit to breathe air on any planet, just like the men you killed and the babies that died and the women that will die because of you …

Somehow, it got through to her that Din was calling her name. “… what?”

“You keep … going still, checking out, clenching your hands into fists. Do I need to find the nurse? Are you dizzy? Nauseated? You had a concussion …” Marathel shook her head but stayed silent. “Marathel, I understand that it’s hard for you to comprehend your actions in the Hold. No one is ever going to blame you for what happened there.”

“They already do. I killed them all. I’m the one responsible …”

Din lifted his hand from Grogu’s head, and cupped her cheek, and his touch nearly made her faint, her heart hurt her so much. He said, “The Dahls killed the children. Not you.” He felt her trembling beneath his hand. “Marathel … are the Dahls still in your head?”

She nervously nodded. “Yes. I can hear them, even this far away. Louder than ever before. Can’t you hear them?”

“No. Not since I had the … not since Rodanthe died. Marathel, you need help. You need…”

“All I need is …”

Before Marathel could finish, there was a click and a tinny voice coming through the intercom. “Siewan here. I have a couple of people and your lunch with me, Marathel. May we come in?”

“Just a moment,” called Din as he picked up the dozing Grogu and put him in his bag. “Yes, please, come in.”

There was a long pause. “I need Marathel to answer, please, Mando.”

“Please come in, Siewan.”

Siewan and company entered, and Siewan looked vexed. She raised her perfect blue eyebrow and said firmly, “Marathel is my patient and I communicate with her. She will speak for herself. Do you understand?”

Din stared at Siewan, completely abashed. Then he understood that Marathel needed to be in control of her care, so he nodded with deference and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

Siewan turned to Marathel with a smile, then puzzlement. “What the … no more sunburn? How’d you manage that?” She noticed Marathel glance at the bag on Mando’s lap. “Marathel, this is nurse Ya-Bito,” she said, and a lovely woman with green skin smiled. Her teeth were not so lovely, and reminded Marathel of the large fish that would take enormous bites out of other fish and swimming children. “She’s going to take over for the next shift. Anything you need, you ask her. We have your lunch here – it's a bland diet, sorry. And this is Doctor Dine’; she’s the one who did your procedure, and she’d like to talk to you for a little bit. Mando, this is girl stuff. Scat.” Din immediately stood and stepped out, still holding Marathel’s finger splint in his hand. After the door closed behind him, Siewan grinned and said, “Damn, he just does what you say, huh?”

Ya-Bito nodded and said, “Wouldn’t mind one like him, no.” The doctor coughed, reminding the nurses to have a bit of decorum. She invited Marathel to go ahead and eat while they spoke to her. Marathel lifted off the cover of what Siewan told her was pureed chicken stew. Marathel thought it was an odd color — quite more yellow than she made stew — but she obediently sipped from the bowl while the doctor talked to her about her condition and asked questions. Marathel was not exactly vague with her answers but she didn’t exactly offer a lot of information, either.

The doctor did her best to communicate to Marathel the nature of her reproductive and menstrual troubles, but Marathel wasn’t interested in hearing about that. All she really wanted to know was when she could leave. The doctor informed her that she needed to stay at least one more night; they were concerned about potential infection, since Marathel didn’t respond to bacta and they had rely on old-school antibiotics.

“Mando — and company — will be allowed to stay with you, if you’re worried about being alone here,” said Siewan.

But that wasn’t Marathel’s worry, because this wasn’t the place that Din was going to leave her behind. That place was elsewhere, according to her dreams and the chattering of the Dahls. She knew, she knew, that he needed to keep moving for Grogu’s safety as well as his own, that Din had his own agenda to complete that had nothing to do with her, an agenda that she kept upsetting because of her very presence … so the voices in her head kept telling her.

Someone was patting her arm. “…what?!”

The other three women glanced at each other. The doctor said, “I was saying, Marathel, that I believe you should speak to a couple of our therapists. You have experienced much trauma, and I believe you need help to process that trauma.”

“I don’t understand the point of that,” said Marathel.

“The point is to help you heal, Marathel.”

“I will heal, but it will take only time. No words can fix what’s been done to me.”

“Talking about trauma can help …”

“Talking does nothing. Talking is just … words. And words always lead to lies,” firmly said Marathel, hoping that she had ended the conversation. She may be as dumb as anything, but these women before her were no Eliadu and Cieroprac. She doubted they had serums or potions to make her speak her mind, and there was no way she would willingly speak of her past life again. She had to tell the Reconstructionists, she’d had to tell Din, she’d had to revisit her shameful existence far too often and it did no good whatsoever! She simply wanted to forget and go far away from the Dahls and not have to hear them anymore. They couldn’t talk to me on Tatooine. I won’t have to hear them there. I will make my days busy so I won’t have to think. I will be still and not think.

“We’ll try again in a little while, Marathel. Eat your lunch, and if you’re still hungry, we can get you something else. I want you to take a walk this afternoon, as often as possible, actually. But eat first,” said the doctor. She and Siewan left the room, leaving only Ya-Bito, who was looking at Marathel impassively, her startling teeth bared.

“Yes?”

“Where is the fork, Marathel?”

Marathel looked up at the nurse, but was unable to hold her gaze. “There was no fork.”

“There’s always a fork, Marathel. I used to work dietary when I was in nursing school, and I wrapped possibly a million of those cutlery sets before I graduated.” Marathel stared at the empty bowl on her tray, her left hand under the sheet, next to her leg … clutching the fork, pressing the points of the tines deeply into her thigh. Ya-Bito sighed and sat down. “If we believe that a patient is hurting herself, we have to, we must, pull her off the floor and into a three-day hold in the psychiatric ward. That’s not a good place for someone as fragile as you obviously are… we do our best, but psych’s not always so great. I can hear you cracking up like an ice floe in spring.

“I know that fork is keeping you together right now. So let me make a deal with you. You can keep the fork until you’re done with your lunch. After that, I’m coming back in, I’m going to remove those IVs and the catheter and I’m going to send you and Mando on a little walk — you need to walk; you’re on a lot of opioid painkillers and that’s going to stove you right up — but when I do that, I want the fork back. And if you can do that, I won’t report this. Can you do that, dear?

“Believe me, I know, I know, the fork is helping right now. But you can’t keep doing that. This is one of the reasons why we all think therapy is a good idea for you. I promise, it’s better than a fork in the thigh in the long run. I swear.”

Marathel’s throat swelled with tears again, and she croaked, “Pinky swear?”

“Absolutely,” said Ya-Bito, holding out her pinky for Marathel to link with her own. “Do we have a deal?” Marathel nodded. “Good. Finish up your lunch. Buzz when you’re done. Did you want to be alone, or did you want Mando back in here?”

Marathel blurted, “I’d like him back …” before falling silent with a blush.

Ya-Bito chuckled and patted Marathel’s leg. “Press your call button when you’re done,” she said as she opened the door and saw Mando just on the other side. “Where the hell have you been? Get back in there,” said Ya-Bito, teasingly. He stepped aside to let her through, and she left.

Din sat down and pulled out an awake Grogu. Din noticed that Marathel still had part of her lunch, so he held Grogu on his lap. “You still have food to eat. No, Grogu. Not yours. Try the ice cream, Marathel.”

“Ice cream?”

“Ice cream.” Din picked up the container and peeled off the lid. “Here.”

Wondering what in Frith Din was talking about, she took the container from Din and almost instantly dropped it back into his gloved hands. “Frith! It’s cold!”

“I said it was ice cream.”

“I don’t know what ice cream is!”

“It’s … it’s … ice cream. Frozen sweet cream with salt and … whatever else is in ice cream. Just eat it, I think you’ll enjoy it.” He handed her the container and the spoon.

Marathel put a cautious spoonful in her mouth and was at a loss of what to do with whatever this foodstuff was, but it hurt her teeth. “Ai! So cold!” She dropped the container and spoon on her tray. “It’s soft, but now it changed … it’s like … laegg … maybe. Oh, I don’t understand what this is!”

Din sat there, silent, wanting so much to burst out laughing, remembering her limited scope of the galaxy. He had to bite his lip and bounce Grogu on his knee just to keep his mouth shut. “Did you not have ice or cream on your planet? You must have had milk of some kind; you had cheese.”

“Well, yes, milk. That’s what laegg means. But ice or cream, no.”

“What animals did you have that produced milk? Cream comes from milk.”

“We had cwagylans. They are … smallish animals, smaller than Dahls, but a similar-shaped head, and horns.”

Din pondered for a moment, and pulled out his holopad and did a search. “Goats? Did they look like this?” He held up the screen to her and she nodded. “Okay … it says here that goat milk doesn’t separate easily, so … well, that explains that. But ice … you never saw frozen water on Unmanarall? It never got that cold?”

“Sometimes, a few times, it became terribly cold. Once, my little stream stopped flowing and it became hard to the touch. It burned my fingers to touch it, but it turned back into water when the sun came out.”

“That’s ice, Marathel.” He finally let himself chuckle. “You have a lot to learn about ... food and ... well, everything, I suppose. Did you not like the taste of the ice cream?”

“I didn’t notice the taste. I think I was too surprised by what it was,” said Marathel, embarrassed.

“Well, give it another try.”

Marathel picked up the container again, and ate another spoonful, rolling it around on her tongue to avoid her teeth, pondering the flavor. “It’s sweet, but that’s about it, really.”

“That looks like plain ice cream. It comes in many flavors.”

“It does?” Din nodded. Marathel ate another spoonful. “Do you like ice cream?”

“I do.”

“Then you should have some,” said Marathel, holding out the container to Din.

He gently pushed it back towards her, saying, “That’s yours; you enjoy it. What else you got up there?” Marathel held up a piece of fruit. “That is a yellowfruit. Make sure you eat that; they were a treat where I came from.”

Marathel sniffed the thick-skinned yellowfruit, then went back to the ice cream. “You mean on Nevarro?”

“No … Aq Vetina.”

“Aq Vetina. It’s a pretty name. Is it a pretty planet?”

“I don’t remember. I was only a child when … I left.”

Marathel tilted her head. “And you’ve not gone back since?” Din shook his head. “You should take Grogu there. Show him where you came from.”

Din shrugged and replied, “Hand me the yellowfruit, I’ll peel it for you.”

She did, and watched as he split the skin and peeled the outside of the yellowfruit back, revealing a whitish-looking fleshy inside. Din broke off a small piece and gave it to Grogu, who happily mashed it into his mouth. Marathel smiled, and took the fruit back, taking a bite. She nodded, saying, “Hmm. I like it. It’s soft, like the ice cream. It’s … I can’t think of a word?”

“Creamy?”

“That’s a word? I suppose it works,” she said before eating the rest of the ice cream, and then the yellowfruit.

Yes, creamy, suddenly thought Din, like how your skin felt when I first touched it, that’s how I remember it, at least. He watched her carefully wipe her lips with a napkin. She sat quietly for a few moments, gazing off into the distance, and then she placed a fork back on the tray. When did she have a fork?

“I’m supposed to call nurse Ya-Bito when I’m done,” said Marathel sheepishly, leaning back on her pillow, her hands folded primly in her lap. “They want me to walk.” Din nodded, still wondering what the deal was with the fork. He reached over and found the call button for the nurse, pressed it, and then put a protesting Grogu back in the bag.

“I should get him something to eat …” began Din as the door opened and Ya-Bito stuck her head in.

“I’m done with lunch,” said Marathel, holding up the fork and placing it back on the tray.

“Excellent. Would you give us a few minutes, Mando?” He nodded and left. “So …did the fork help?”

Marathel shrugged. “A little.”

“Talking is better.” Marathel didn’t respond, so the nurse went around to the other side of the bed to check the hanging bags for Marathel’s IVs. “The doctors want you to drink as much water as possible, but we’re also going to keep you on fluids because you got so dehydrated. We think you’re good on blood now, though.”

“I didn’t use to be.”

“What was that?”

“I used to have a terrible bleeding condition. I’ve lost all my blood before.”

Ya-Bito looked at Marathel’s face. “You’ve suffered greatly.” Marathel didn’t respond. “Siewan believes that you’re heartbroken as well. I agree with her. Does it have something to do with that Mandalorian and his little boy?” Marathel nodded and sniffled. “He cares for you greatly.”

“No. He feels responsible for me.”

Ya-Bito shrugged. “That’s part of caring for another, especially someone as fragile as you at the moment. Let him carry you for a while until you can walk on your own.”

Marathel, puzzled, said, “I thought you wanted me to walk.”

“I do. What I meant, though, is allow him to help carry your sadness, your hurt, until you have the strength to do so yourself.”

Marathel drew a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. “My hurts should not be his burden.”

“He seems more than strong enough, and — dare I say — willing to take those burdens for you.”

Strong, yes, willing, no. He will leave me behind as soon as he is able. As he should. He was untethered, and he is now free of me. “I’d like to walk now … can I do that?” Ya-Bito nodded, and removed the synth-blood line, then asked Marathel to lay back so she could remove the catheter. This startled Marathel greatly; she had no idea such a thing existed, much less was inserted inside her. Ya-Bito patiently explained its purpose and exactly how it worked, which eased Marathel’s mind. Ya-Bito then helped her sit up on the edge of the bed to put on another gown to wear as a robe, and a pair of soft socks that had anti-slip treads. “Oh, I like these,” said Marathel, testing them on the floor. “I like these socks very much.”

Ya-Bito laughed and said, “I’ll make sure you get a few pairs before you leave. Now, can you stand?”

Marathel carefully stood, only a bit wobbly, and took a couple cautious steps. “I feel pretty good. May I use the necessary?”

“Vac-tube’s right in there,” said the nurse, pointing to a closed door. “You probably won’t tinkle anything; it’s the removing of the catheter that makes you feel that way. And here …” She handed Marathel a pair of absorbent, stretchy, disposable underwear. “You are spotting a bit, which is completely normal, so you might want to wear these.”

Marathel looked back at the bed; there was a pad there with some blood on it, but not much at all. She went into the little room and saw not only a vac-tube but also a fresher. She hoped she could use it later. She tried to use the vac-tube, but Ya-Bito had been correct; she hardly had any piddle at all, just more an urge than anything else. Marathel pulled on the absorbent underwear and instantly hated them, but decided they would do for now, until she could wear her regular clothes again … She then remembered that she left her bag behind on Unmanarall. Oh … dank ferrik, as Din and others would say! I have no clothes, nothing! What am I going to do?

Marathel stepped out, worried, and as she was washing her hands, she looked at the mirror and remembered her clam shell pendant … which was now missing from around her neck. “Oh, no,” she cried.

“What is it?” asked Ya-Bito, who was replacing the large absorbent pad on the bed.

“I had a clam shell … a pendant … around my neck, and it’s gone …”

The nurse came over to her, patting her shoulder. “I don’t know, but I will find out for you. Okay? What is lost will be found. Now, let’s go walk.”

Marathel nodded tearfully, and wiped her eyes. As she walked to the door, pulling her IV stand, there was a knock on the door. She cautiously opened it slightly, and Din was on the other side. “Oh …”

“You’re standing; good.” He came in, noticing the distress on her face. “What is it?”

“My clam shell … the one Grogu gave me …” Marathel began to cry again.

“Oh, I have that …” Din dug it out of his pocket and placed it over her head.

Ya-Bito smiled and said, “Lost is already found.”

“They made sure to give it to me before you went into surgery; I’m sorry it slipped my mind.” Marathel dropped her head and clutched the clam shell, sniffling. Din kept his hands on her shoulders. He clicked his tongue and said, “Ma’mwsh ha’laa …”

Marathel gasped, her tears forgotten, and she looked into Din’s visor. “Did you say ma’mwsh ha’laa?” Or could it have been my mesh’la?

“Of course I said ma’mwsh ha’laa; you’re always going to be ma’mwsh ha’laa to me.” After handing her yet another cloth to dry her tears, he said, “Now, do you feel up to walking?” Marathel nodded and smiled — an actual smile, Din noticed — so he held the door open for Marathel, and she stepped out into the corridor. “Which way should we …?”

“First of all, please …” Marathel guided his arm so that she could hold his forearm, just like Cobb had when he’d led her to the courtyard.

“Well, when did you learn about that?” asked Din.

“Cobb taught me.” Din made a hmm noise and they started slowly walking, Marathel guiding the rolling IV stand alongside her.

After a few meters, Din felt the need to place his hand over hers on his arm, which cheered him as well as her. “Am I walking too fast?”

“No, this is just fine. Where’s Grogu?”

“Back in the childcare center. He kicked up a fuss but was distracted by a cup of ice cream. Food seems to be a good currency for him.”

Marathel frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I can use food to make him do what I want.”

She smirked. “Boys are the same all over. Promises of sweets always worked in the Hold. Girls only wanted a hug, or praise. Or safety. Which was impossible to give,” she said sadly. Din patted her hand, and they walked in silence for a while. “I’m glad to have my clam shell back, but I’m also upset because I left my bag behind.”

“I picked it up. It’s on the Razor Crest. Your blanket is being laundered courtesy of Grogu’s childcare assistant. They’ve been very kind.”

Marathel had to take an extra breath to control her emotions. “... Thank you, Din.” She let out a long wobbly exhale. “So, you went to the hut?”

“I did.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry about your kinswomen. Ni ceta. Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, and Hylma – I recited the Manda’lor death chant in their honor. They were good women.”

“They were all good to me in their own way. Hylma was the only one I didn’t truly know. I helped at her birth, but why she would be willing to help me at all; I have no idea. And I’ll never know.” A thought occurred to her. “How did you learn their names? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“When Grogu and I arrived back at Unmanarall, we went to to Hold first. Well, what was left of the Hold. I seem to recall thinking that Marathel doesn’t mess around when I saw that building blown to bits. I was impressed. You’re dangerous, woman.”

Of all the things Din might have expected Marathel to do at that moment, it sure wasn’t laughing.  “Cobb said the same thing,” Marathel said as she chuckled.

Unsure of how he felt about that, Din asked, “Why did he say that?”

“I threw a mug at his head.  He deserved it.  He was being a … what did you call him?  Oh yes, a menace.” Marathel chuckled some more.  “Oh, that’s not quite true.  I was asleep, and I was very groggy when I awoke, but he was there in my room and he startled me. So, mug to the head.  He managed to duck, though!  Oh, goodness…” Marathel continued to laugh.  “Then, another time, he came into my room while I was sleeping to measure my foot so he could find some shoes to borrow …”

Well, now I’m peeved, thought Din.  Cobb was just hanging out in her room? Touching her bare feet while she was sleeping?  What else did that handsy son of a bitch touch?

Marathel turned her head to look at Din, who was not looking at her.  Her brow furrowed.  “Are you … angry at me for speaking about Cobb?”

“… No.”

“I think you are.” Din didn’t reply, so she decided to change the subject. “There’s another thing I must apologize for. I’m so sorry, Din.”

“Why?”

“Some time ago, I thought to myself, that Din Djarin never does anything I say.” Marathel chuckled. “But the truth is … you did everything I ever asked of you. Except leave me behind. Twice, now, you’ve come back.”

“The third time’s the charm,” said Din, who regretted it instantly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean. Perhaps … it’s for the best?”

Before Din could answer, a man and two women rounded the corner right in front of them. Marathel had no idea who they were. The man wore an odd uniform; it was orange with white straps and a white woven thing on his chest. The two women wore nearly identical pants and jackets of a brownish green. All three looked quite stern. The man nodded at Din, saying, “Mando.”

Din sighed deeply, muttering, “Captain Teva.” Hearing the name Captain Teva instantly filled Marathel with terror, and she thought, there are Captains elsewhere? Are there Bishops and Dukes too? How does Din know another Captain?

This new Captain, of whom she was already afraid, turned to her and said, “Marathel ap Bishop, we need to have a chat.”

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-One point Five ->

#din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #mando angst #din djarin angst #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories #din djarin x fem oc #din djarin x plus size!fem oc #din djarin x reverse age gap oc #plus size reverse age gap

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youcouldmakealife · 11 months ago

Text

LBTE: Jared (173-174)

In which we prepare for the end by going back to the beginning.

If you'd like to follow along, the series page is here.

Final LBTE the day after tomorrow -- the epilogue itself is tomorrow.

173. Lodestar

He’s already talking about taking next year’s rookies under his wing — taking them out for lunch, inviting them over to play video games, making sure they feel welcome.

Jared terrifying the rookies might put a crimp in Bryce’s rookie mentoring plans.

And — fuck, is Jared going to have to host shit? Jared doesn’t want to host shit. Letting people into his space sounds horrible. Hopefully they’ll get a pass, since there’s no way the team could all fit in their apartment, let alone significant others and kids. They had a few preliminary discussions about getting a house after they re-sign this summer, but no way is that happening if it increases the likelihood of Jared having to endure guests.

Refusing to buy a house solely so no one makes him host anything is the most Jared thing possible.

You’re co-hosting a wine night with me he receives from Stephen, who continues to have the uncanny ability to say the thing that Jared would like to hear least. Jared guesses Gabe told him the news.

Wine nights happen when the Canucks are on the road. Jared replies, rather than ‘I would rather die’, just in case Stephen takes him literally.

Very smart not to tell Stephen your worst fears: he’ll make them happen. Also: you’re co-hosting a wine night with him. It’s inevitable. The rookies may fear Jared, but the WAGs will love him.

The Scouts are flaming out against the Kings, earlier than their typical Stanley Cup Final choking.

This is the Red Wings’ year. So Kings vs Red Wings in the WCF (yes, this 'verse shunted Detroit right back to the west when they finally thought they were safe), then Red Wings vs Lightning in the Finals. Sorry Seb.

Bryce is, but he’s been busy with other things — getting a crash course on what’s involved in wearing the A from Gabe, babysitting the Kurmazov spawn while Dmitry and Oksana pack up their own place for the offseason, bringing some of their extra food over to Elaine’s, and somehow coming home with more shit than he left with, though thankfully all the childhood shit Elaine’s unloading on him is nonperishable.

Seriously, Bryce is 100% living the dream. Mentoring, babysitting, hanging out with his mom.

In one of the boxes is a battered stuffed bear with a bow tie that Bryce greets like an old friend, and now sits with the minor Winnie the Pooh collection in the sulking room. He doesn’t fit thematically, but Jared figures he gets extra points for making Bryce’s eyes light up. His name’s Mr. Bear. Bryce was apparently not a creative child.

Because Bryce was Bear, the Mr. was included to avoid confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asks.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Bryce says.

“Is it your shoulder again?” Jared asks.

“It’s not my shoulder,” Bryce says.

“Is it somewhere else?” Jared asks.

Jared is not a very good listener when he’s panicking.

He’s suddenly terrified Bryce is going to propose or something. Demand they get married again, but in public this time. Fuck, Jared doesn’t want to marry Bryce again. He embarrassed himself in front of enough people last time, and is frankly extremely grateful no video evidence exists. He can’t deny that he cried if there’s a video of him doing exactly that. Not that he’d cry, but—

You’d fucking cry, don’t start.

Also if Bryce knew he could make everybody hold a party for his relationship with Jared? On one knee in a second flat. So Jared will just…never mention the existence of vow renewals in his presence. And quit bugging Gabe and Stephen about when they’re getting married so Stephen doesn’t snap and mention it himself.

Bryce hasn’t shown any signs of stopping to breathe, but Jared doesn’t interrupt him, knows Bryce won’t be able to gather the threads back together if he does, and, more than that, that he’s nervous about this for some reason. Nervous about telling Jared this.

Bryce rambles when he’s nervous and when something’s really important to him. This is both.

Mostly he’s trying to figure out how Bryce did all this without Jared knowing. Like, Jared knew Bryce was keeping busy, but how did he miss a whole ass project? Bryce did financials? He talked to Marc Lapointe?

He had a lot of spare time. Especially during road trips. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep it on the DL, considering.

“We started in like, January,” Bryce says. “I wanted to have like, a real idea before I told you, make sure I was still like, serious about it. And everyone says to do the research so, like, mom and I did the research. Gabe and Stephen helped too. Stephen was only like, kind of mean about it. Though he kept saying shit about my hair.”

“Babe, saying you have Disney prince hair isn’t an insult, I told you that,” Jared says.

“He says it like an insult,” Bryce says.

Because he’s offended that your hair just DOES that. Stephen is very vain about his own hair, he hates having a competitor.

(It does not just DO that, there is great time and financial investment involved in Bryce’s terrific hair)

“He says everything like an insult,” Jared says. “That’s just the way Stephen communicates.”

“He’s nice to Gabe,” Bryce says.

“Have you ever met anyone who isn’t nice to Gabe?” Jared says. “Even I’m nice to Gabe.”

Er. Nice(r).

But seriously, who’s mean to Gabe? Stephen will kill them.

“I wanted it to be like, fully planned out before I told you,” Bryce says. “You’re always so like — you always think shit through, you know? So I wanted to make sure I thought everything through first. And that took like, way more time than I expected it to. And help. This stuff isn’t like, my thing, you know? But it matters to me, so.”

Bryce trying to make sure he got ahead of every road block and set back so it would be perfect by the time Jared found out about it kills me a little.

“It isn’t?” Bryce says. “I mean, I know it isn’t, I just — you don’t think it’s dumb?”

“Of course I don’t think it’s dumb,” Jared says, and it kind of breaks his heart, how relieved Bryce looks.

Mine too.

“I just don’t want anyone thinking they can have hockey or love but not like, both,” Bryce says. “Like, I’d be a fucking mess without you, and I was kind of a mess without hockey too, and I just��“

Bryce going from someone who can’t even say the word gay out loud to willingly becoming the face of an organization meant for LGBTQ youth athletes — this boy.

“I can’t believe you made a secret club just so you could hang out with your mom,” Jared says.

That’s just a BONUS, Jared.

“I’m not—“ Bryce says. “It’s not a secret club!”

Note there is no denial about the hanging out with his mom part.

“You can join the club,” Bryce says, then, quickly, “But you don’t have to or anything. I know you’re not a joiner.”

“Obviously I want to join your secret club,” Jared says.

“Really?” Bryce asks.

“Duh,” Jared says, kicking Bryce’s foot, and Bryce kicks him back, grinning.

Jared’s evolution has been subtler, but of course he makes an exception for Bryce.

Bryce goes to grab his laptop with this jaunty little trot Jared doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do before, and he smiles down at his hands so he isn’t grinning at Bryce when he returns, just in case Bryce thinks he’s laughing at him.

Another evolution: Jared’s awareness of how easily Bryce’s feelings are hurt, and his efforts to make sure he isn’t the one doing it.

“We can take a break,” Bryce says quickly. Jared decides it wouldn’t be constructive to point out they haven’t actually done anything, form-wise. Certainly wouldn’t get either of them what they want, unless what they want is to be frustrated by bureaucracy.

Excellent work NOT cockblocking yourself with forms, Jared.

For the second time Jared gets to see the jaunty run. It’s a little dorky, but Jared won’t tell Bryce that. If he does, he’ll never see it again, and he’s already fond of it.

Jared getting to see parts of Bryce nobody else does, and being SO SO fond of them.

Jared decides to speed up just a little. If Bryce is going to put on a show, he doesn’t really want to miss it.

Like, yes, this is about sex, but also very much a dynamic that plays out across their relationship, which is great, because Jared doesn’t mind that Bryce is the better player/higher profile/bigger name. In fact, all the extra stuff Bryce deals with because of that is shit Jared is very glad not to deal with. But he loves getting to sit back and watch Bryce do his thing.

174. Starstruck (Redux)

There are so many callbacks in this part it might be easier to point out what isn’t one. One of the great things about doing this liveblogging (I reread the first 102 before I restarted this endeavour) — everything is very fresh when it’s time to wrap things up.

It’s also a really nice way for me to come to terms with finishing things — I get to go back and honour every part of the process, which helps, because this part always hurts. This series has been in my life so long it’d be a first grader by now, so it's been particularly hard to say goodbye to it.

It always feels a little strange now, travelling commercial. Well, strange is putting it nicely. Terrible. It feels terrible. Jared has had five hours of sleep and his Starbucks is burnt and his husband is wearing a toque indoors ‘so people won’t recognise me, J’. He looks ridiculous, and if his coffee’s burnt he can’t taste it, probably because there isn’t much coffee involved in that concoction.

Who says Jared isn’t a morning person (everyone who’s met him, and many would say he’s not an afternoon, evening, or night person either)

“You’re that guy from the Canucks, right?” she asks, inexplicably looking at Jared rather than Bryce.

Guess you should have worn a hat like your genius husband, Jared.

“My friends all think you’re really cute,” she says, then runs back to her group without asking for an autograph or anything, greeted with yells and cheers like she just scored them the OT winner.

She is a god among them.

“Don’t look so douchey in my hat now, do I?” Bryce asks.

“You still do,” Jared says. But he looks like a douche with a good idea.

Shoutout to the time Jared wrote a heartfelt card on his first anniversary that used the word ‘douche’ twice.

“I packed an extra,” Bryce says. “Just in case you changed your mind.”

Jared continues to underestimate how often they’ll be recognized, particularly in Vancouver. Bryce prefers to be prepared so he doesn’t have to take pictures and sign shit when he’s just trying to get a coffee.

Once the plane door shuts, Jared rips the hat off his head. “Is it fixable?”

“I don’t know how you can say I’m vain about my hair,” Bryce murmurs. Jared would tell him it’s because he is, but Bryce is fixing his hair for him at the moment, so it doesn’t seem like the most opportune time to argue.

Jared’s less vain about his hair and more vain about his so called dignity, and messy hair is not dignified. But then, neither is Jared, a lot of the time.

Training with you. I come back to Canada in June.

Absolutely not. Jared texts back.

Chaz and Raf already said OK. So did Arvan. So I’m coming.

Too bad Jared texts back. You’re not invited.

“What’re you so happy about?” Bryce mutters.

Julius officially in the crew and Jared is visibly delighted about it.

“Jared!” Bryce says, grabbing his arm.

There’s a few instances of physical communication between the two of them in this part. Big because it’s always in public/in front of others, and that’s something they’re only recently grown comfortable with.

“Did you know Julius was coming?”

“What, Julius is coming to train?” his dad asks. “That’s news to me.”

“I didn’t mention training,” Jared says.

“Shit,” his dad says, and Jared snorts.

Jared got his terrific lying skills from the best.

“Great,” Jared says. “Wonderful. I’m so happy to be home.”

“We’re as happy to have you as you are to be here,” his dad says.

His chirping skills are mostly from his mom, but sometimes Don comes through.

“Is that where Erin’s taking Bryce?” Jared asks.

“As far as I’m aware,” his dad says.

“Well,” Jared says. “Then I guess that’s where I’m going.”

These two. Two planets orbiting one another.

“I tell you I’m proud of you yet?” his dad asks.

“Not in as many words,” Jared says.

“Well, I am,” his dad says. “Proud of Bryce too.”

Look at Don growing too!!

“Me too,” Jared says. “Next season he’s going to — actually, I’ll let him tell you about it over brunch.”

“The charity thing?” his dad says, then, “Shit.”

“Oh for—“ Jared says. “Come on.”

Elaine got ahead of herself, she’s sorry!

Ashley has a ring on her finger. Grace doesn’t, but judging by Raf going red and hissing ‘shut up’ when Jared asks him about it, that’s changing very shortly.

Raf’s trying to find the perfect moment. Chaz did it in their living room and almost wiped out on one of Maia’s toys when he went to kneel.

“You're pregnant," Bryce says.

"No," Ashley says. "Okay, yes, but—"

Everyone had a couple beers (or spritzers) but her over the afternoon. Bryce noticed, Jared, of course, did not.

“To keep the numbers even we thought that maybe Bryce could be on my side?” Ashley asks. “And you two could partner up. But we don’t want to do that if you’re not—“

“Can I wear a suit that matches the bridesmaid dresses?” Bryce asks.

Ash and Chaz worried he’d feel emasculated, being on the bride’s side. And once upon a time he would have, but now he’s just hyped about a pastel suit.

“So it was Chaz you were hiding it from,” Jared says.

Ashley’s mouth flattens. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It is an excellent instrument,” Chaz says. “You’re just haters.”

If he plays twinkle twinkle little star on that thing one more time…

(And it is always twinkle twinkle little star. Because that is all he knows.)

Jared leans over to Chaz as Bryce and Ashley put their heads together. “Did you steal a toy from your own child?”

“We’re teaching her to share,” Chaz mutters.

Can MAIA play twinkle twinkle little star? No! It’s wasted on her.

Raf proposes, but only after weeks of making everyone around him miserable. To the surprise of absolutely no one but Raf, she says yes. Jared would be more smug about calling it if he hadn’t been the only one blindsided by Raf asking him to be his best man.

Just wait until Jared remembers there’s a speech involved.

Jared’s volunteered to help, mostly to make sure that Julius doesn’t mistake Jared telling him he’s not welcome, and explicitly uninviting him, for actually not wanting him here.

Taking Jared at his word would obviously be a mistake.

“Oh my fucking god,” Jared mutters. Bryce had finally gotten rid of the convertible when he left Calgary, and Jared had figured that was that, because Vancouver’s the opposite of a good place for one. Maybe that was naive. “You’re too old for that car! Also too young!”

Bryce gets out of the front seat, sliding his sunglasses off and tucking them into his polo. He looks like bad porn. Right in front of Jared’s parents, too. Jared glowers at him as he walks up the driveway.

Jared’s anti-convertible gripe turning into ‘how dare you look hot enough that I now want to ride in your dumb car’. In front of his parents, to boot!

“Nice looking car, Bryce,” his dad says.

Bryce grins. “Want to come for a spin?”

“Watch my pots!” his dad says, then literally jogs down the driveway to get in the passenger seat.

Don has dibs though!

Jared exchanges a look with his mom.

“Well,” she says. “It’s nice to see he’s finally gotten over his Bryce related car trauma.”

Growth!

It’s another half hour before Bryce and his mom come back. It doesn’t involve anyone shouting ‘what a rush’ as they come inside, so it’s more subtle than his dad’s return

I love Don.

Jared scoots over, and Bryce lies down beside him. They don’t fit. They never have, really, but now Jared has to put his back against the wall, tangle their legs together so Bryce doesn’t topple right off the bed.

Back in Jared’s high school bed. Every time they do it gets more and more cramped.

“I thought we could get some pizza,” Bryce says. “Sit around at a park or something. It’s a nice day for it.”

“You got a blanket in the trunk too?” Jared says.

“Maybe,” Bryce says. “Not a Flames one, but.”

This boy. This ridiculously romantic boy.

“Absolutely,” Bryce says. As soon as they get outside he jogs ahead. Jared’s about to ask him what he’s in such a hurry for before Bryce opens the passenger door for him, and then he just has to stop everything, take a moment and watch him, golden in the late spring light.

Jared’s still so gone for him.

“You coming?” Bryce asks.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Yeah, of course I am.”

So gone.

#liveblogging the end

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