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neteluvr-library · 1 year ago

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okay im back for my weekly read through of cardigan!! idk why i choose to do this at 11 pm at night but that's when im most unhinged so its kinda funny letting my unfiltered thoughts through??? but don't worry im only doing two chapters today bc i really want to do the last three chapters together!! NOW THAT WILL BE INTENSE. i love DBTAC sm. It's literally one of my favorite taylor songs ever bc of u--i slept on lover before but its one of my favorites now. I never really paid to the lyrics because simply because I didn't know this song when you first posted, but now I am so appreciative of the lyrics because it flows so perfectly with the story. so I'm very excited to read this chapter ):

He couldn’t say no to you, he realises. He would follow you anywhere in this world, do anything you asked of him, regardless how stupid or reckless or crazy it was. He would always follow you, for the rest of time, and he was happy about it.

No because Neteyam is such a lover boy. everything in his DNA is fierce and i think that's very applicable to the way he loves. I don't think he could do anything half-assed which is why I love the way he loves atan ):

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction.

I literally thought she was going to die I was like no way this just happened how fucking unfortunate 😃 BBYGIRL IS FINALLY LIVING HER LIFE NOW THIS???? atan will not get a break for the next year or so for her life-

You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world.

NO BC I KNOW ATAN FELT SO NUMB IN THIS MOMENT 😭 but also i was and still am living for the angst please its just too good

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough.

This entire chapter was anxiety-inducing like it literally felt like something out of the movie contagion or any other pandemic movies (very weird considering we lived throughout a pandemic) but the whole sequence of atan (PLEASE I JUST TYPED ATAN AND IT GOT CORRECTED TO SATAN LMFAO) studying her samples in the lab adds to the anxiety and was a genius move on your part. it was easy to imagine in my head because you were so descriptive but also it's shows a lot about atan's character and how strong she is (despite the fact she doesn't believe). like most people would freak out, rightfully so, but she just goes straight into action to figure out what is going on. (LOL soon you'll get better just started playing now).

...like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago

one thing that blows my mind is that avatar literally takes place only 150 years after the year 2000 which is the year i was born in so it's like not even that far off (is that a covid reference lol) from our current timeline. like yeah I'll be dead but my grandkids and even great grandkids will be alive in 2100) i really hope we don't end up like them lmfaoooo..

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE I: DENIAL

I LITERALLY LOVED THIS SO MUCHHHHH ITS LIKE A MOVIE SEQUENCE!!!! going through the different stages of grief always hits in literature, but i think you captured it so well in a way that was entertaining to read, but also cathartic? (but I'll elaborate more on that in seven)

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight.

NOT THE XANAX 😭 POOR ATAN!!!!! she is going through it rn.

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

EASTER EGG!!!!! and i'm literally just catching this now 😭 obviously i know what its implying but im kinda disappointed i didn't notice until now? i need to be a more careful reader bc sometimes i skip over details like this that set the stage for something else. honestly i think i just focused on the bolded words instead of everything but like DESCRIBING BODY LANGAUGE AND ACTIONS IS JUST AS IMPORTANT FOR CONTEXTS AHHH i will do better. but also, you're a mastermind because you already had this planned 😒

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

LITERALLY LOOKING BACK I DIDNT KNOW WHAT WAS GONNA HAPPEN BUT I STILL DIDNT EXPECT WHAT YOU DID i literally thought everyone was being sus for no reason

...if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here.

I'm sure he was...lol

...like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you

so dreamy ): i love the idea of plants being like friends you can spill your secrets to and they have open ears that don't judge you

You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud.

GOD so most of the times i can't relate to romance stories because i have only had one failed relationship and honestly i haven't been truly in love, but i do know what its like to have a soulmate like that (one of my best friends) so it warms my heart to know neteyam has someone like that and by relating it to my experience i think it really clarified just how strong their bond is and made me realize that damn you only get that type of love (whether platonic or romantic) once in your life so you should hold it tight when you do find it

...but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds.

Reading this little portion made me think about how different Atan, Vol, and Vi are (they have a lot of similarities tho). They're all fierce and multi faceted characters but I specifically thought about Atan and Vol because you wrote that Vol was more selfish in nature at the beginning of Cruel Summer and then compare her to Atan, who is selfless from the beginning. I've always appreciated your female characters, and i know each one has bits and pieces of you, but I just love how you're able to write so many different female characters without them being too "Mary Sue" or having the same personality. it's great that each one of Atan, Vol, and Vi are easily distinguishable from each other.

The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life.

There is definitely a different type of pain that comes from grieving something that is alive and in front of you. it must make atan feel so helpless and lost ):

“Did you tell her?”

I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT I ORIGINALLY THOUGHT!!! GIRL BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE TIME I THOUGHT NETEYAM WAS GOING TO CONFESS HIS LOVE FOR ATAN AND THATS WHY EVERYBODY WAS SO SECRETIVE LMFAOOO IT JUST MADE SO MUCH SENSE IN MY HEAD like yeah neteyam loves atan and wants to say sorry and confess and that's why everybody is so jumpy because he wants them to keep it a secret so atan doesn't fight out but neteyam was too stubborn to actually do it ... silly me. but next time i won't be so silly and will be on guard for any sus actions...

You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

Me except instead of being in an Avatar body, its reading Avatar fanfics because I want to avoid any responsibilities I have (lowkey supposed to be writing my personal statement but i chose to do this instead AHAHAH)

...discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one.

And to that I question: what draws the distinction between the two? i think that would be an interesting conversation lol

Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach.

So claim your woman . So, how i pointed how the difference between your female characters, I also want to point out the difference between your Neteyams. Mainly this Neteyam and Cruel Summer Neteyam. Sure, they were both selfess and put their obligations first but it's interesting how they diverge and are almost like opposites? but i love how Cardigan Neteyam goes against his obligation while Cruel Summer Neteyam ultimately succumbs to it. like okay, the circumstances are different but its interesting because it shows how you can characterize Neteyam in different ways (even MiM Neteyam is completely different). this fandom was literally given CRUMBS but they have managed to keep him alive through the 8734987349 different variations and characterizations of him and i love it. James cameron slept on neteyam. I feel like he give us was like a blank canvas almost. Like neteyam has defining traits, but you can take the defining traits and completely change who is with each version of him. okay that got a little long whoops....ALSO PLS I NEED YOU TO DO A NETEYAM POLL of which neteyam is their favorite 😭😤

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.”

Classic love triangle moment lol...CUE THE DRAMA

GEEZE THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR. i feel like im picking up on so much insight that i didn't before so i actually really love rereading. though i try my best to annotate anything my mutuals post IT TAKES UP SO MUCH TIMEEEEE i just love writing every little thought

lllicit Affairs | Chapter VI: Death by a Thousand Cuts

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have a dark secret that would change everything between you - and neither of you are willing to share.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, Lo'ak x reader, jealous!Neteyam, both main characters thirsting for each other, mentions of lab work, disease, blood, cursing.

Word Count: 7,2k words

A/N: Chapter 6 is the chapter that sets EVERYTHING in motion for what's to come. There is a LOT to come, a lot of drama and angst, maybe some smut (? 😉) and this chapter is meant as a stepping stone to the beginning of the end. Also, realised I forgot to ever mention, that if the dialogue is ever italicised, that usually means the conversation is in Na'vi, I don't know how I have never made it clearer, but here we are.

Thank you so much for everyone who's been reading and asking to be tagged, I never expected this to gain any traction and I am so grateful for people enjoying it x

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave you too much but it wasn't enough But I'll be all right, it's just a thousand cuts

One second.

“Just one second, Neteyammm!”, you whined, as he was trying to remove the blanket from your currently very comfortable and very warm body.

“It’s late, come on! Early bird catches the worm, isn’t that what you people say?”

“Nobody says that, I don’t know who told you this lie.”

“It was you!!” he says, and he’s laughing at your whinging while trying to remove the blanket. He’s not trying that hard, considering he would make an easy job out of the task if he used a tenth of his actual force, but he couldn’t bear the thought of bringing you any unnecessary distress. You had enough of that in your life, and he wanted to be a source of comfort for you, a shelter in the storm.

You scooted on one side of the bed close to the edge, and left a big gap which you brought to his attention by patting it aggressively.

“Press the button on the audio player and lay with me, please? I don’t feel like going out today.”

A song he liked came on, one that he’s heard you play before and there was no doubt in his mind that he liked it better when you sang it. He circled the bed and lay in it, next to you, in the dark.

“Thank you, light of my life.” You attached yourself to him, arms sprawled across his bare chest and legs carelessly placed on top of abdomen and hips, and sighed contently. He could feel your warm breaths on his neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head to you and placed a small kiss on top of your head and listened to the soft tune filling up the room.

“Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you”

“You’re annoying.”

“I know I am, but you love me anyway.”

I do, Neteyam thought. I really do…

Things happen in life sometimes, and it makes you lose your ability to react. There was no reaction, definitely no overreaction. You stared at the vial of blood that shattered all across the floor, all across you and your mind was blank. Almost robotically, you made your way to one of the benches and got some paper rolls and the IMS laying next to it. You carefully cleaned all of it, and spit whatever made its way to your mouth to the floor to be removed. When you were sure everything was gone, you went to the sink and removed your goggles and gloves, and scrubbed yourself clean. You felt yourself moving, picking up a bucket of water with some floor cleaner, felt yourself adding disinfectant to it and moping thoroughly, but it was like an out-of-body experience. Like you were merely a puppet executing orders from above. Cleaning everything took about an hour, after which you made your way back to your room slowly, deliberately.

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night looking over everything you and the rest of the scientists have ever found out about this virus. You didn’t know its way of transmission. Maybe you had nothing to worry about, maybe it’s not by blood. You knew it’s not by air, you’ve seen plenty of people infected whose family was fine. So even if you do get infected, the people at the lab should be fine. Your friends would be fine. He would be fine.

Next, incubation period. That’s a tough one, in-vitro studies show it takes the virus anywhere from 2 to 12 months to show symptoms. You don’t know how that changes in humans. You don’t know any of this shit for humans. You could be perfectly fine, you could die within the month. The thought made your blood run cold.

You sat in your chair for the remainder of the night. Unmoving, unthinking.

That’s how Norm found you.

“Hey, Ace. What are you doing up?”

You scrambled for a lie.

“Just woke up, actually. Listen, if you are going to check on the boy, can you please bring my supplies to the tent and tell the Sullys I won’t be in today? I was too exhausted to run any experiments yesterday so I will do it today.”

“Oh… is everything alright? You haven’t missed a day in the village since you got your Avatar.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just worried about the boy and want to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later, if possible.”

“Alright, I can bring you back some of his blood to run as well?”

“NO!”

Norm’s eyes widened in shock at your response and you knew you fucked up, you knew you slipped up. Calm yourself…

“It’s just not necessary at the moment since I have other blood and I don’t want to overwhelm him, if it’s not imperative. I will retrieve some blood when I check on him tomorrow.”

Norm looked at you with a concerned look, but eventually relented.

“Ok, whatever you think, Ace.”

“Thanks, Norm.”

“Let me know what you find tonight. I’ll tell Jake, but they might not be happy with you.”

“You can explain it’s an emergency, I’m sure they’ll understand.”

You struggled to get up and get your legs to not want to collapse beneath you. Eventually, you made your way to the sink and washed, you scrubbed your face as hard as you could without removing a layer of skin, and your teeth until you felt the familiar taste of metal coat your teeth. You hoped that maybe you tried hard enough, the last 6 hours can just be erased from your life, from world. You hoped it could undo the damage that would plague you for the rest of your most likely very short life.

Luckily, most scientists seemed to be out. Claire was teaching Na’vi kids English at Grace’s old school that Jake deemed fit to be reopened, Max left with Norm to check on the situation of the village, and most of the Avatars would be out on missions or training with Jake. You made your way to the quiet halls to one of the labs, and prepared for your long day ahead. This will be hard to do by yourself, but not impossible.

First step, respiratory fluids. You remove a sterile cotton swab and swab your pharynx as thoroughly as possible and place it in a tube. That’s easy enough. Next comes the blood. Finding a vein has always been hard for people to do on you, and it’s not gotten any easier in time, so after poking yourself a few times in the wrong place, you manage to get enough blood to run experiments on.

Hours of sample preparation, incubation, pipetting and running went by at an excruciatingly slow pace, like the universe was revelling in making every second of torture last forever. You thanked your lucky stars of the progress made in lab equipment and that you didn’t have to spent days on one PCR, like your mum was saying it had to be done back on Earth about a century ago. Regardless, it took most of the day for you to do everything you needed, check for all the proteins and markers you knew were deregulated with this virus, and by the early hours of night, you were done.

Aș people were starting to return to the hub as another day was nearing its end, you retreated back to your bedroom to work on the data analysis. You did not want to see anyone, did not want to speak to anyone until you knew at least some things. The less you talked, the less lies that had to come out of your mouth, and that seemed ideal to you.

Inputting the data and having to wait on some software to give you your literal death sentence felt so tragic is was almost comical, and you had to stop and ask yourself if you were some serial killer in a past life to warrant all the pain and misery life seemed adamant to throw at you. For the first time in so long you couldn’t even remember, things were going… well. You were strong, and doing well, and lived outside of the walls of this lab. You had a chance at something more, you had a chance at maybe one day healing and working through your issues and maybe even coming out the other side a better, healthier version of yourself. You had a chance at love.

And there it was… positive. One second.

THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF STAGE I: DENIAL

Your blood became poison in the span of half a day, but at least you now knew it wasn’t transmitted through air. That means no one else would have to suffer because of you. The thought made you weirdly calm, and you realised you didn’t care about your own health all along. No, you weren’t sad anymore, just relieved. A wide smile appeared on your face at the results, and you jumped out of the chair with enthusiasm at the great news. Everybody would be ok. Norm, Max, they would all be ok. You will handle all the virus experiments and blood samples from now on. They wouldn’t have reason to doubt you or question you, not when it made most sense anyway, since you were always in the village and knew the protocols and techniques the best, anyway. You would go on the same way as you had, and no one had to know or suffer because of your mistakes.

With those thoughts still floating in your mind and a Xanax on your tongue, you made your way to the comfortable bed and crashed without a dream in sight.

You were up before dawn again, and ready to get started on your day at the village. You were looking forward to gun training with Jake, and finally putting those years of practice to good use. You found Norm deep in thought in the link room, and he didn’t register you walking in until you patted his shoulder and he jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, Ace. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I noticed. Why so jumpy, Norm?”

He gave you the quickest look known to man then quickly busied himself with literally anything else. “No reason, just focused on the task at hand.”

“…turning on the linkpod?”

“No one likes a smartass, you know?”

“So how was the village yesterday? How is the boy?”

“He’s alright, still not great, but his vitals are stable for now.” You noticed he did not answer your question about the village, and found slight panic rising in your chest.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen in the village?”

“No, Ace, everything’s fine. You don’t have to worry about everything, you know. How did the experiments go yesterday?”

“The virus is not airborne, it seems to be transmitted by blood, so we need to be very careful handling samples.”

“We always are. But good work, good to have some concrete evidence finally. I’ll look over your analysis soon.”

“You know, I’m not quite done with it, so maybe wait and we can look over it together?”

“Sure, that makes sense.”

You didn’t buy Norm’s pathetic attempts at deflecting the subject of the village, but you did not want to fight him so early in the day, so you guess you had to find out what happened for yourself. You woke up in your Avatar body soon enough, and could already tell the village was already awake and buzzing with the perspective of a new day. The guitar sitting on the ground next to your sleeping mat caught your eye, and you smiled softly at the memory which now seems a life away. Your fingers lingered on the chords and you strummed it gently a few times, enjoying the sounds that seemed to settle in your heart. Adjusting your braids in the small mirror you brought with you a few weeks ago, you made your way out of your tent and straight into Neteyam’s chest with a loud thud.

“What the fuck?” You say, indignantly and then look up to find Neteyam watching you with an unreadable expression adorning his beautiful face.

“Hi.” He says, and tries to muster a small smile.

“Hi…? Is there any particular reason you have decided to attack me first thing in the morning?”

“I was just coming to get you, I heard the guitar playing. I didn’t think you would be running straight into me. Are you ready? We can spend the morning tracking a herd of Talioang that the hunter party spotted a few clicks south of the village. It will be good practice for you.”

“…alright? Can I get some food first? I’m famished.”

Neteyam shifted uncomfortably in front of you and looked… nervous, you realised. What the hell was going on with everyone?

“I have food that Ma packed for us, we can eat in the forest? I’d really rather get a move on as soon as possible, this will most likely take most of today, anyway.”

“Is there a particular reason you seem so eager for me to leave? You and Norm have both been acting weird today, and you are both terrible liars.”

Neteyam gave you a hard look. “Let’s go, Y/N. Unlike what you like to think, you don’t need to know everything, and not everything concerns you. Let’s go, now.” Nothing’s changed, you realised bitterly. Last night was just a fluke and you hated yourself in that moment for letting your guard down.

“You can be a real dick sometimes, Neteyam.” You said and took off without looking at him.

You ran for about 5 clicks without checking behind you, knowing full well he was following you, your hearing being one of the many senses that heightened in this body. You stopped suddenly at the sight of a huge footprint, one you could identify as the Sturmbeest, or a Talioang, like it was known to the Na’vi. Soon enough, you saw the ground littered with them, and began carefully tracking the beasts.

“Alright. How far would you say they are and which direction?” Neteyam asked, approaching you slowly. He was back to teaching mode, and you tried your best to learn, instead of recoiling and telling him to go to hell, which is what you really wanted to do.

You touched the ground and felt it with your fingers, trying to assess the moisture level and deepness of the mark. You thought about for a while.

“I’d say they’re quite fresh. Maybe this morning? Taloioang move slowly, about 1 click every hour or two, so I’d say we’ll find them about 2 clicks east?”

He didn’t even have to touch the ground to be able to assess it. He was impressive.

“Good. Let’s go. We shouldn’t run, they have good hearing and the wind is blowing east, which means they’ll be able to smell us if we’re not careful. We will take a roundabout way and approach them from the south.”

You both made your way through the forest and it was your turn to follow him, although you stayed close behind and tried to look around you and pick up on clues, tiny sounds and movements, trying to learn, trying to see. “Eyes on the tracks, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told. Eventually, Neteyam let you deem the appropriate time to stray from the tracks and move south to avoid being spotted. Soon enough, you saw the herd of prodigious beings, bathing in a shallow lake. You made your way slowly, sneaking on the ground, with Neteyam close to you, and you felt his arms grazing your sides every inch of the way.

The herd was protecting the calves, 5 in total, playing and splashing in the clear water. You watched in amazement, just enjoying the view of these seemingly ferocious beasts that in the moment, felt more like a family watching their children play at the local pool. You couldn’t believe the beauty and mild predisposition, the complex nature of these animals whose equivalents were long gone on Earth, long decimated by humans and their needless desire for wealth and acquisition, for mindless cruelty. You felt your stomach drop at the realisation that soon, this could be Pandora, if you didn’t fight will all your being in the upcoming war.

You felt a sudden gentle pressure on your lower back, a pressure you quickly identified as Neteyam’s hand and you shuddered at the touch. He neared his mouth to your ears, and you felt his warm breath tickling your neck, a sudden warmth pooling in your lower abdomen.

“You’re not allowed to kill anything yet, but I want you to show me how you would go about it. Show me your bow work, how would you aim from this position.”

You slowly removed your bow from from your person and sat up, in a now crouched stance, and loaded the arrow, doing your best to accommodate for the uncomfortable position you were in and the tight space you were sharing with another person. You held your breath, engaged your core, and aimed as if you were going to release your arrow on the target about 300m away. Neteyam’s large hand touched your upper thigh, by your left hip and squeezed gently. Your arm dropped suddenly and snapped your head in his direction. He didn’t react to your sudden snap, instead talking lowly, so as to not give your location away. “Your leg is not in a position by which you can maximise release. You will have more power in the shot if you place this knee on the ground and lean into it.”

You wanted to take that hand and either break it or redirect it on other parts of your body that felt like they would explode if they didn’t feel him, have his touch provide the relief that was desperately yearned for, needed. You wanted to scream at him or make him coax the screams out of you like a war-cry, wild and desperate. You wanted to kill him, you wanted him to kill you, slowly and painfully, taking his time on your body until you were falling apart at the seams around him. You hated him, you loved him. You hated him.

You gave him a hard look, an angry look directed at your thigh, and he removed his hand from you. You wondered if he knew, knew what he was doing, wondered if he felt the same way, if he too was struggling to catch his breath at the torture of knowing he can’t have you, claim you, right now, right in this second, right here. You hoped he did, hope it ate him alive, the yearning and the desire. Because that’s what it was doing to you, what he was doing to you. You turned your attention back to the herd and adjusted your position based on his advice. He was right, you could tell right away, as you felt a lot more power when aiming the arrow this time.

“Much better. We can go now, we will give the location to the hunting party and the will be able to secure us dinner for a couple of weeks from the back of a couple of Ikrans.”

You made your way out of their surroundings, and slowly started walking back to the village. After about half an hour, he stopped on a rock and removed the food he was carrying in a pouch. You didn’t join him, preferring to keep your distance and thus a clear mind, not being able to afford being weak around him anymore.

“I thought you were famished.” He says, with a slight smile. You shook your head and turned around, taking in the views of the forest, distracting yourself with the flowers reaching out their neon green tendrils towards you. You kneeled next to one, and touched them gently, enjoying the way they cupped around your hand and tugged, like they were urging you to come closer so they can spill their long-forgotten dreams to you. You heard him sigh loudly.

“Sorry for being a dick. Just had a fight with mum and dad, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I am sorry. Come eat, please? I don’t want you passing out on me, you’re not as easy to carry as you used to be when you were human.”

You remained on your knees still, focused on only the plants and your gentle tug-of-war. You knew how much pressure Neteyam was under, has been for pretty much his entire life. A prodigy created… or made, no one could really know for sure, he began training when most babies learn to walk, and speak, and play. He has never had a childhood the way Lo’ak, or Kiri, or Tuk, or pretty much any other Na’vi children did, mostly fleeting moments of bliss in between a lot more moments of stress and struggle. He never complained, though. Not out loud, not to anyone else but you, once he realised you were a safe haven from the storm. You didn’t pass judgement, or make him feel bad for sharing his feelings, and he felt like he could tell you all the hardest truths his heart has always craved to speak out loud. You have always wanted to protect him from the world, a world that demanded so much of him, that asked for a sacrifice of which it was undeserving. Being Olo’yektan, leading the people, being the one person everyone relied on was a great honour, a great achievement - one you didn’t think he wanted, but was never given the chance to decline.

“What happened?”

You walked slowly towards the rock he was laying on, and sat at its foot, crossing your legs on the slightly damp grass. You grabbed a piece of jerky from the pile of food and slowly chewed through it, humming in appreciation at the smoky taste and rich flavour of the meat.

Neteyam grimaced and didn’t look at you, choosing to focus instead of his arm guards, picking at something that was clearly not there. “More sacrifices I need to make in the name of the future, of the people.”

“I see you still haven’t learnt to say no, even after all this time apart.”

Neteyam’s hand froze in midair, his eyes widening slightly - it was the first time you brought up the year apart. He braced himself for what he thought was the beginning of the end, of you finally demanding answers he didn’t think would ever satisfy you, but no other words left your lips.

“I can’t say no. I owe my parents everything I have, everything I am. This village, this life, is all I know. My dad gave up on everything he knew to stand up for our people, to make sure we’d get a future worth living, a family worth saving, a world still worth fighting for. He became Olo’yektan despite all that stood against him because he loved my mum, loved us, even then, even before we were born. My grandpa died defending this village, watching home tree get decimated in front of his eyes, with only the people’s safety on his mind and tongue. I see that bow that my mum cherishes like a gift from Eywa herself and I want to be worthy of it, someday. And if it means giving up some things, maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be.”

“Maybe whatever you’re giving up is making room for something ever better, Neteyam. Sometimes we want something so bad, we can’t see the forest for the trees.”

He looks at you confused for a second.

“That’s a saying. What I’m trying to say is maybe you are over focused on something you want right now, that you think is the best thing for you, but maybe you just are not focusing on the bigger picture. Maybe in the future, whatever you’re giving up now will make room for something that was much better for you all along.”

Disappointment filled his chest at your words. Neteyam looked at you with deep sadness marking his features, and he could see you were trying to think of things to say that could make him feel better. In all honesty, he wanted - needed - you to tell him to be selfish, and trust his gut, and follow what he knew was right in his heart, but he also knew that being selfish is not a trait that came naturally to you. You have always respected the deep bond Neteyam had to his family and his people and you always used to tell him how proud of him you were for how strong he was, for the lengths he was willing to go to to protect and nurture those bonds.

You felt an overwhelming sense of grief at the realisation that you will never get to see him become Olo’yektan, see him become the man everybody knew he was. He would never be yours, and although that painful conclusion had settled in your soul and had time to scar in all the time you knew him, a new wound, deeper, bloodier, deadlier, tore your heart apart at the thought you would not even be able to watch from afar. You would have been satisfied with scraps, just watching him rule, and be, and love someone else and imagining it was you. You never thought you’d get more than that anyway, never had any delusions for more. The scraps would have been enough, and now even those were brutally taken from you, like everything else in this life.

You needed to leave, now.

“Should we head back? It’s getting late.”

You walked back in deep, uncomfortable silence. Eclipse made the nature shine and glimmer with colours your sadness dulled to muted tones. There was light coming from the village and you realise how badly you wanted to be alone, in your tent and read, or watch a movie or a show, and ignore this world for a little while while you licked your newly-opened wounds. Tonight was a communal dinner around the big bonfire in the centre of the village, and you felt grateful your presence would not be missed in such a crowd. You’ve come to love these dinners, another one of the many ways the tribe connected to the village and to each other, but tonight you couldn’t entertain even the thought long enough to count.

“Can you please tell your family I am sorry, but I will probably head to bed early. I’ll be early for breakfast tomorrow, I promise.”

“I can do that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded absentmindedly and closed the flap of the tent shut.

Neteyam watched as you left him, still reeling from your conversation. Much like you, he just wished to hide in his family’s tent and pretend for a night things are different, that they are better. Actually, if we are talking about wishes, he wishes he could be in your tent. In all honestly, dealing with you on a day to day basis, seeing you, your body, touching it more and longer than he knew he reasonably had to, was making him think thoughts he knew he had no business thinking. In his wildest dreams, he’d be in your tent and making your eyes roll back in the way that drove him crazy. In his wildest dreams, he’d be coaxing sounds out of you that only he would ever hear. In his wildest dreams, your hands all over him would heal him and break him at the same time. He was desperately in need of some relief, and he loathed all decisions in his life that lead to you not being able to be the one to provide it for him.

He made his way to the bonfire, and greeted all of the Na’vi that respectfully bowed their heads at his arrival. He saw his family at the centre of the crowd, where they normally sat, and joined them silently. They all gave him uneasy looks - all but one. Lo’ak was blatantly glaring at the older Sully, a look of disappointment and disgust marring his normally kind face that reminded Neteyam so much of their dad.

“Did you tell her?”

Kiri elbowed Lo’ak in the abdomen, but he didn’t flinch. He did not even bother to acknowledge Kiri, or the low hiss escaping their mum’s lips - his eyes were still boring into Neteyam, unwavering.

“No.” Neteyam’s expression darkened and in a split second, he became the warrior his dad moulded him into. “And you will not, either, Lo’ak. Do you understand me?” Lo’ak had to look up to look at his brother who was now dangerously towering over him.

“Oh, the mighty warrior giving out orders, what else is new?”

“Lo’ak, that’s enough.” Neteyam heard Jake intervene, and he eventually had to physically put his body in between his two sons, who still refused to look away from each other.

“Fnawe’tu (coward).”

Neteyam watched his brother turn his back on his family and walk away from the feast, and although he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he knew deep down that Lo’ak was right.

You were almost robotically flipping through the directory of movies and tv shows on the laptop that you had with you in the village, not quite ready to go back to the lab and have to deal with the consequences of your newly acquired “condition”. You had all night to do experiments, and lie to yourself that you were fine until you eventually succumbed to a Xanax-induced blackout. You wanted to be in this body just a little while longer, because, in this body, it was easy to forget the realities of your actual life.

You saw a five-fingered hand emerge from the entrance to your tent, and you laughed incredulously at the clown you loved, who seemed to have a knack for improving your dour mood.

“I am here to bother you.” You got up and started making your way towards the entrance of your tent.

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner?” You say, laughing and pulling Lo’ak by the hand, so he stumbles unattractively into you.

You wrap your arms around him and hug him gently. “Skxawng.”

“I should, but I am here instead. We haven’t had movie night in so long.” He lay on your sleep mat and you hissed for him to move over. “You’re getting way too comfortable hissing at people.”

“Not people, Lo’ak, you!” You smiled saying that, knowing you were quoting Kiri, and he groaned exasperatedly.

A few more weeks passed, and you felt the discrepancy between your bodies become more pronounced than it had ever been. It turns out, the incubation period of a Na’vi virus in a human is not long at all, and roughly around last week, you began displaying symptoms. You were taking every drug under the sun to try to soften them, but you had seen one too many good Na’vi people die due to this to know what was lurking underneath the comfortable cushion of drug-induced health. Despite all that, you felt on top of the world in your avatar. You were continuously improving, and, with a little bit of luck, will be completing your first kill soon - the first stepping stone to becoming Taronyu, hunter. If you do that successfully, you will be taking your Iknimaya with other Na’vi apprentices, and finally get your own Ikran. You were buzzing at the thought, and the image of you flying in the sky was enough to push any other worries out of your mind.

After that weird day that ended with Lo’ak in your tent watching Friends together and teaching him the chords to a song you both loved, things went back to normal, sort of. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that the Sullys were hiding something from you. They exchanged looks, and avoided certain subjects, and you were starting to be worried they guessed you were ill, and were tiptoeing around the subject so as to not upset you. That was a good theory, although it could not explain the heavy tension between Neteyam and Lo’ak that also started that night.

You saw them bicker and fight your whole life: two opposing personalities, both of whom had misunderstandings about the other. Neteyam could never understand Lo’ak, understand that, despite being the chieftain’s son and the grandson of the Tsahik and former Olo’yektan, people still looked at him like he was not quite full Na’vi. His eyebrows and five fingers made his appearance uncanny enough to always attract whispers and looks, and despite Lo’ak’s apparent devil-may-care attitude, he cared. Neteyam could also not understand anyone who wished to live freely and discover themselves, make decisions and choices that would lead to a happy, fulfilled life, rather than a proud and accomplished one. Finally, Neteyam did not understand that skill and tenacity doesn’t come easy to everybody, and the weight of living in his shadow was bearing heavily on his baby brother’s back.

On the other hand, Lo’ak never tried to understand the burden Neteyam had to carry, because, in his desire to not appear weak, he took it in strides and never complained. Lo’ak never fully understood the downfalls of what being “the perfect son” brings: no freedom, no childhood, no time, no fun, no choice. He only ever focused on the positives: praise from his family and clan, skill and composure, the title of future Leader of the Omatikaya. He will also never be able to understand the depths of Neteyam’s love for him, who, despite all their differences, would be willing to sacrifice everything, even his own life, to make sure his baby brother would never having to experience these burdens.

This tension felt like more. More than you’ve ever seen, not mended in time, they were always glowering at each other and only speaking to each other if prompted or forced by their increasingly frustrated family. You tried to talk to both of them individually and ask, but you were promptly sent on your way each time. You could tell Lo’ak was itching to spit it out, but every time he got close, he flashed you a look of hurt and fear, and moved on.

Eventually, you stopped worrying about it. It will come out in time, and you had better things to worry about. Your training became brutal after that day tracking Sturmbeests. Neteyam would come to your tent before dawn, sometimes having to wait for you while you woke up in your Avatar body, and you were always gone past eclipse. You were tracking, joining hunting parties to learn, working on shooting arrows while on Pa’li or in nearly impossible positions (he made you shoot targets hanging upside down from the branches of trees, seriously) and working on guns and practicing with Jake and his soldiers. Jake made you his second-in-command during these sessions, and you enjoyed having the roles reversed and having to watch Neteyam squirm every time you touched his arm, or waist, or thighs, in order to adjust his shooting form. You also taught Lo’ak, sometimes late in the nights, where he would sneak into your tent and ask you questions about guns that he hoped would bring him in his father’s good graces for once in his life. You loved teaching them, and you felt powerful with all the eyes on you, trying to absorb every piece of information coming out of your mouth.

“In your hands, you are holding a sub machine-gun.” You said and you made your way through the 10 soldiers in your midst. “It can fire up 600 rounds per minute. You have a button on the side of the weapon, as you can see right there”, you stopped and show everyone on your own weapon, “that allows you to choose between semi automatic and fully automatic. What’s the difference, Lo’ak?”

“A semi-automatic guns fires one shot when you pull the trigger, a fully automatic gun fires continuously until you release the trigger.”

“Tsantu (good guy)!” you said with an intimate smile. Lo’ak was making amazing progress, and you were proud to be even a small reason why.

Neteyam gave Lo’ak a hard look as he answered your question. He was angry with his brother because of his recent attitude, he thought. That’s the reason. Not at all because you were smiling at him with that dazzling smile that used to be reserved for him years ago, definitely not because he knew Lo’ak was sneaking in your tent at night and doing Eywa-knows-what, a fact which kept Neteyam up nights with images he would do everything in his power to be able to erase from his brain. Neteyam was exhausted. He hasn’t slept since this thing started, not until Lo’ak returned to his tent after his meetings with you, and he was able to look at him in the dim light of the night and gauge for himself if his brother was flushed, or panting, or extra happy for one reason or another. Despite never seeing anything that he could deem suspicious, the images of his baby brother taking for himself what was his, what should be his, haunted him and made him sick to his stomach.

Coward. Lo’ak words rang in his ears incessantly throughout each day, never being able to fully block them out.

Neteyam saw you move from Lo’ak and towards him, and tried to remember what they were talking about. Sub-machine guns, right.

“Now, SMGs are best used in tighter quarters or close to mid-range. The spread will make it inefficient for long-range. If you find yourself on the back of your Ikran shooting at a plane or Valkyrie, make sure you close the gap between you or use your bow, instead.”

“An SMG will have a lot of recoil, making it harder to shoot accurately, but there are a few tips you can use to make to improve your aim and accuracy.”

“First. Always fire in short bursts, if you are firing on automatic mode. A few shots at a time will make sure the kick is not unmanageable. Two, account for the kick and adjust your aim to compensate. Think of shooting an arrow and how you always take the wind, its direction, speed and power in consideration before you actually release. It’s a similar principle. The recoil will make the gun kick upwards, so always aim slightly lower than what you want to hit. Three, don’t aim for the head. Leave that for a bow or an assault/sniper rifle with a scope. Aim for the abdomen and chest, since that is a wider target and more likely to hit. Everyone on the same page?”

Neteyam was forever in awe of you, but it was particularly impressive watching you now. You were confident and powerful and knowledgeable. Neteyam felt bad admitting it, but you were a much better teacher than their dad ever was. Toruk Makto had many incredible qualities, but his patience was definitely not amongst them, and his lessons tend to get a bit derailed by his inability to understand that Na’vi are not predisposed to guns or understanding Sky People technology. You were calm, and kind, and funny, and you made it easy for everyone to follow your instructions. In the span on a few weeks, all of the Na’vi and Avatar soldiers training for the upcoming war became better at pretty much every aspect that they were training in, and I think everyone felt just a bit more comfortable about the conflict that was soon to befall them, with you by their side.

After the lesson was complete, you left alongside Lo’ak, sparing one last look in Neteyam’s direction. He was already watching you, and you saw a fleeting angry look that was quickly replaced with an expressionless mask. He was getting good at that, you thought.

“Do you want to do anything? If I have to listen to Kiri talk about all the new types of flowers and plants and shit she keeps finding in the woods, I will lose my mind.”

“Be nice.”

Kiri has been particularly hyperfixated on her newfound discoveries recently, and you tried your best to pay attention to every time she was describing them, in detail, but in reality you were always so exhausted by the time dinner came around that you were only assimilating about a tenth of all the words coming out of her mouth. You felt bad, and made a mental note to dedicate a couple of days to your friend that you saw less and less each week.

“Your Iknimaya is getting closer and closer each day, how do you feel?”

“Honestly I haven’t thought about it that much, just taking it one day at a time.”

“I think you should start thinking about it, cause it’s going to happen. You’ve managed to blow everyone’s expectations out of the water. It barely been two months since you got your avatar body, not even my dad did this so fast. You were made for this, Angel.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were grateful for Lo’ak’s faith in you, but with everything happening in your human body, it felt pointless looking towards the future.

“You will be one of us, soon. I’ve had dreams about this my whole life, you know? It’s like I manifested your Avatar, Norm should be thanking me.”

“Lo’ak…”

You didn’t like the turn this conversation took, and felt an uncomfortable twinge settle in your chest at his words.

“There are perks that come with being an Omatikaya, you know? You can make your bow out of the wood of the Home Tree… and you can choose a mate.”

Fuck.

Neteyam was making his way back to the village with the rest of the soldiers, casually chatting to one of the Avatars returning with them. He wasn’t paying attention to the way until his body knocked into one of the Na’vi walking in front of him. Utsou was staring intently at a scene unfolding in front of him, a scene that turned Neteyam’s blood to shards of glass, leaving cuts and bruises along his entire body. It was you, smiling, running your hand up and down Lo’ak’s arm whilst his hand was cupping your face and caressing your cheek. It was such an intimate interaction, it felt wrong to everyone there to even be able to witness it, and Neteyam felt himself becoming nauseous. With the image now seared into his memory and rage turning his breaths to pants, he turned around and left everything - everyone - behind.

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @hayhay9091

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snelbz · 4 years ago

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter Three}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta sat across the kitchen table in Azriel and Elain’s kitchen, looking at her sister.

“I mean, I just don’t get it,” Nesta continued, shaking her head. “Me and Cassian… Why didn’t they choose you and Azriel? You’ve been together forever and want a big family.”

“You’re second guessing taking care of Nyx?” Elain asked, with no judgement, just curiosity.

“No, of course not,” Nesta began, sighing. “It’s just… Me and Cassian?”

“They did try to set you two up all those years ago,” Elain said, propping an elbow on the table and dropping her chin in her hand.

Nesta raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And how well did that work out?”

Elain rolled her eyes, but sighed. “Feyre was right though,” she said, looking at the letter from Rhys and Feyre, laying face down on the table. Nesta had brought it over for Elain to read, which had just made them both start crying over again. “You have the fiercest heart. Nyx needs you in his life.”

She blinked away the tears lining her eyes again. Silently, she wondered when she’d be able to think about her sister, about Rhys again, without dissolving into tears. She knew it would be a long while.

Finally, she said, “I know he does. I just don’t understand why Cassian has to be involved. That’s not going to be a healthy environment for him to grow up in.”

She could already see it, she and Cassian at each other’s throats. He knew how to get under her skin, loved to do it, did it as often as he could. It would be all Nyx saw as he grew up, his guardians screaming at each other.

“He needs to be somewhere happy and loving and peaceful. Like here, Lainy. He’d flourish here, with you and Az and Seph.”

Elain gave her sister a long, wistful look. Her eyes were soft and misty when she said, “We’re just learning to take care of one, Nes. I can’t… We can’t take on another infant. And, besides, it wasn’t what Feyre and Rhys wanted.”

“They probably wrote that the second they got engaged,” Nesta said, knowing that wasn’t true. “They didn’t know what they wanted.” Elain glanced at the open letter that sat on the table between them. “I read it. They knew exactly what they wanted for Nyx in case something happened to them, and I think that they were right. Just because you and Cassian can’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not a good idea.”

“The lawyer will disagree with that,” Nesta muttered, remembering Tarquin’s words from their meeting. I tried to advise them against this. She shivered. “The thought of living with Cassian and playing house has me nauseous. And pissed off. So pissed off that I’m nauseous.”

Elain sighed again. “He really is a-.”

“A good guy,” Nesta interrupted, letting her head fall into her hands. Her fingers tugged in the roots slightly. “I know. You keep telling me that. Feyre always told me that. Everyone keeps telling me that. But the two of us?” She looked up at Elain, letting her see into those eyes that matched Feyre’s perfectly, letting her see the slight panic in them, letting her see everything. “We aren’t compatible. Everything about him, it throws me off.”

A cry from down the hall had both of the women standing, but when Nesta realized it was Nyx, she hurried out of the kitchen. In a flash, she was in the spare room, crossing to the small crib Elain and Az had set up for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant.

Nyx’s blue eyes were wide and he let out another tortured wail and Nesta tried to soothe him before he was even in her arms. “It’s okay, bubba,” she cooed, holding him against her chest. He kept crying, though the volume of his screams lessened. Instead they were more akin to what Nesta would have almost called sobs.

“It’s been a long day,” she breathed. “I think we should go home, yeah?”

She gathered his diaper bag from where it laid on the bed and when she entered the living room, Elain was sitting on the couch, reading over the letter again. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna get him home,” Nesta said, softly. She repeated, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”

Nodding, Elain folded the letter back up and wiped at the tears on her face with the back of her hand. “Right.” She held the letter out to Nesta, who took it, careful not to jostle Nyx who had finally quieted down, though Nesta could tell he was still awake.

His little hand was pressed to the side of her neck, and she could feel it moving gently.

“Call me if you need anything,” Elain said, carefully hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of Nyx’s head. “Az and I will help you move what you need to into the house, so don’t hesitate to ask.”

Nesta could only nod, still unsure of how she was going to do this, how she was going to live her life, while also taking care of the far more precious one in her arms. She silently left, driving home and getting Nyx inside and settled, letting him sit in the Bumbo seat she’d found in the kitchen atop the counter while she cooked dinner.

After putting him down for bed, Nesta found herself sitting on the balcony off of Rhys and Feyre’s old bedroom. She looked out into the small wood that made up their backyard, over the pool and chairs that had been set up for the approaching summer, but her eyes were drawn up to the stars that Velaris was famous for.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, not sure if she was admitting it to herself or to Rhys and Feyre, listening to her wherever they were. “I’m so scared I’ll do something wrong.”

The sounds of crickets and other manner of nighttime creatures were the only reply she received.

“I know you believed in me, in us, but I don’t. I want to make you both proud but I don’t know if I can do that. I just need something to tell me that I’m not making a huge mistake and-.

She softly gasped as a shooting star went blazing across the sky, a second one following it right after.

Her lip trembled as she nodded up at the night sky, understanding, knowing who had sent those stars. She almost felt like she could feel them there, as if they were telling her that it would be hard, but she could do it.

And she… she didn’t have to do it alone.

Cassian wasn’t at Az and Elain’s for thirty seconds before he crossed to the mini-fridge Azriel kept stocked in the garage.

“There’s no way they thought this was a good idea,” he said, pacing around, Azriel silently watching him. “It’s a sick joke, just like all of this is. There’s another letter somewhere that says just kidding, wouldn’t that be funny though?”

He cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go.

“I mean, Rhys and I always messed around and shit, but…this is too far,” he went on, tossing the can in the garbage and reaching for another one.

Azriel crossed his arms as he said, “Too many of those and you may think it’s funny, too.”

Cassian shot him a look as he drank from his can. “This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.”

Azriel took a deep breath before saying, “Did you stop to think that maybe they knew exactly what they were doing?”

Cassian said nothing as he propped himself on a stool and shook his head. Azriel didn’t push him. Eventually, Cassian said, quietly, “I want to help Rhys. I want to be the man that he thought I was. I mean, shit, he left me in charge of his child. And I would die for that child. But, Nesta was right, you know? I have no idea how to take care of a kid, especially one as young as Nyx.”

“You think I did, when Seph came along?” He asked, leaning back against the workbench. Cassian was as comfortable in this garage as he was his own, had created just as many beautiful things here as he had in his own cramped space. But he focused on Azriel’s words, sighed as he listened to his brother.

“I was scared shitless, but that didn’t mean a thing to her, or to Elain,” he went on. “Because they both needed me. They needed me to get my shit together and figure it out, and that’s exactly what I did.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his feet, at his dirty work boots and silently drank from the can in his hands.

Azriel crossed the garage and pulled out a beer of his own, cracking it open and taking a drink. “So read the books, do the research, go online, do whatever you have to do, but Cassian, listen to me.”

His brother rarely used his full name, so he looked up at him, nor expecting to find the tenderness on his face or the silver lining his eyes.

“If you think for one second that Rhys and Feyre didn’t know what they were doing, you’re wrong. No one loves that little boy as much as you do. Yeah, you’re probably going to fuck up once or twice, but it’s okay.” Azriel placed a hand on his shoulder. “It happens and as long as you learn from it, that’s all that matters.”

Cassian wiped at his eye with the back of his hands. “I’m fucking scared, man.”

“I know you are,” Az replied, his voice dropping, almost gentle. “Not to mention we’re all still hurting. But you and Nesta are going to be fine, Nyx is going to be fine.”

Cassian clamped his eyes shut. He groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad, I know I can learn to take care of Nyx, but Nesta? They expect me to live with Nesta?”

Azriel actually hesitated. “Yeah, that sucks.”

Cassian, despite himself, laughed quietly. “Yeah.”

“But, believe it or not, I think she’d be good for you,” Azriel said, keeping that quiet tone.

“Now you’re trying to set us up?” Cassian asked, wiping at his eyes and the tears that had nearly fallen.

Azriel shook his head. “No. But, Nesta Archeron gets shit done. And she loves Nyx, too. The two of you together….different parenting styles? Yeah. But, you’d be surprised at how well two opposites balance each other out when it comes to parenting.”

Cassian thought of Azriel and Elain. They were both gentle and kind, but they were pretty opposite, too.

“And if it’s a complete failure?” Cassian asked.

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian. At last, he said, “It won’t be.”

Cassian wanted to believe him, wanting to feel confident in the words Azriel said, but even his third beer hadn’t lifted his confidence.

He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling, at the garage door that was raised to allow the cool, night breeze in. “I have to live with Nesta Archeron. The Mother thinks she’s funny. The Cauldron is laughing at me. Fate is rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally.”

“No,” Az chuckled. “I think that might be Rhys.”

Cassian snorted, but the door to the house opened and Elain stuck her head out. She smiled softly at Cassian, who raised his drink in greeting. “I thought I heard you out here. You gonna stay for dinner?”

His alternative was grabbing something from a drive through or searching through his fridge for something that wasn’t completely freezer burned, so he smiled and said, “Sure, Lainy. Thanks.”

She beamed at them both and the door clicked shut behind her as she turned to go back to the kitchen. Cassian looked over at Azriel to find him still smiling like a fool at the door.

He sighed quietly as he realized he would probably never have that, would never have someone he could stare after and gaze at as fondly as Azriel did Elain. Not if he was to spend his life shackled to someone who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

As soon as he thought the words, he chastised himself, stepping out into the driveway. She was just as miserable about the whole ordeal as he was. But for Nyx, they could try and make it work. They would make it work. They would do what they had to.

He sighed, gazing up into the night sky.

Shaking his head, he wondered if there was some sort of afterlife. If there was, he wondered if Rhysand and Feyre were somewhere in the sky, looking down at him, trying to encourage him, trying to get a message to him during this horrible, hectic, anxiety-ridden unknown time.

He hoped they were.

He could use it.

That encouragement.

That love.

Cassian began raising his can to his lips, but then he froze.

A shooting star shot across the night sky.

Then another.

Cassian’s hand fell back to his side as he stared at the bright Velaris starlight, completely in awe.

They were watching, they were there with him. They were there with all of them.

Of course they were.

Cassian swore under his breath as he fully gave into the ridiculous notion of moving in with Nesta, of co-parenting with the most frustrating, stubborn woman in Prythian.

But for Nyx, he would.

For Rhysand, for Feyre, he would.

#life as we know it #snacmc lawki #nessian #nessian contest #nesta archeron #cassian #snelbz tacmc collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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argylemikewheeler · 3 years ago

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July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he wished some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift. Fucking off and being a better piece of shit son just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So don’t call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was sure his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um, puzzles to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we can’t . So, that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is more than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially his familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green dash barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded cool in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like everyone was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I have to show you all my inventions! Camp was the best four weeks of my life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa! Girlfriend ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just Steve that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s super smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I just saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the Chief now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not... looking at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car could speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was upset that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.” Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since no one else in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright-- Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they weren’t dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected: his sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike-- just Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he really was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly: do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re never early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t have to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy. Doctor doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t too comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just was . Rather than being cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in: In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole… thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything to forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but instead seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to obscure the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well are you seeing someone, Jonathan? -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will needed to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little understanding between best friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too everything to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the disgusting amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress. Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No-- no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s nothing . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even see us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I meant what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I meant because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

#stonathan #jonathan byers x steve harrington #byeler #will byers x mike wheeler #byler #finally reposting in a way that isn't a random post with a link alksdja #prompts #my fics

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shyficwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 6

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: Peter works on cracking your shell and Rocket just still doesn't like you. Oh, and Fury pays a surprise visit and you accidentally poison Yondu- Oops!

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I think I knew from the moment I read this post I knew I needed to include something like it in this fic, especially knowing one of my readers had also suggested somewhere that they thought it'd be cool to see how the Guardians reacted to Terran food lol

Word Count: 5,617

You came back inside through the back door more than half an hour later, having decided to run a quick coat of stain over the bed frame pieces. The sooner you applied the stain, the sooner it would dry, the sooner you could apply the varnish. Not that you were in a hurry or anything... You just got excited over having a project, that's all. You totally weren't stalling on going back in the house, or anything.

Peter was sitting in the kitchen with Gamora. The others had seemingly all dispersed by now.

Peter looked slightly disappointed. "Saved you some cookies."

You were slightly taken back in surprise. "Oh, you didn't need to."

"You bought them, I wasn't just not going to save you a couple." Peter said with an odd look. "Anyway, thought you said you were coming back?"

You grimaced slightly and accepted a biscuit from the package in Peter's outstretched hand. "I did come back... I just got caught up with something."

Peter eyed you for a moment, as if he were considering something. He tilted his head, a slight smirk forming. "Are you shy or something?"

You blinked at him. "What? No-"

"Kinda seems like you are. I mean, before you avoided us because you were all cranky and hated us, but you don't seem nearly as cranky today. Heck you even seemed to almost like us today. So the only reason I can see for you to still be avoiding us is that you're shy."

Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, but after a moment's thought, almost seemed to agree with him and turned her expression to you. She didn't think he really believed you were shy. Rather, she figured he was accusing you of being shy to make you come clean about the real problem. He did similar stuff like this all the time to trick Rocket into talking when something was bothering him. She often wondered where he learned it from, until she witnessed Yondu doing the same to Peter one day after he and Kraglin joined their group.

You shook your head at them. "No. That's absurd."

Peter nudged Gamora in the arm. "That's cute. I think she's shy."

"I'm not shy. That's dumb. My line of work doesn't exactly mix with shy." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Methinks you protest too much," Peter teased in a sing-song voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning to Gamora. "Is he always like this?"

Gamora half smiled. "Yes... but he might stop if you told us why you keep avoiding everyone."

You sigh. "Look, it's just going to take some time. I'm not trying to avoid anyone, well, not anymore. Just... being around and interacting with a bunch of people is just... not something I'm used to."

"So you are shy." Peter said, his grin almost smug, but mostly teasing.

You sigh in Gamora's direction and she grins sympathetically. "I'm sorry about him."

Before you could respond again you heard a knock at the door.

You looked towards the sound in confusion at who it might be, because you never got visitors. However, you quickly switched to alarm when you realized you had a house full of aliens and no idea who was at the front door. You look out the kitchen window, but you couldn't see a vehicle.

They knocked again.

You turned back to Peter and Gamora. Preferably you'd want to tell them to get everyone to the cellar, but you were concerned on time and knew the curtain was open on the front door window and didn't want to risk whoever it was seeing a bunch of figures fleeing to behind the staircase to the cellar door. You directed Peter to go upstairs and make sure whoever was up there stayed and remained quiet, while you directed Gamora to head into the sitting room, close the door, and do the same while you checked the front door.

Another knock.

You looked at the window of the front door. It was the type of glass where it distorted finer features of subjects, but even with that obstacle, whoever was there seemed to be purposefully standing to the side so they couldn't be seen.

Once Peter and Gamora were out of sight you kept a hand on the knob and tentatively asked, "Who is it?" You eyed the small table by the door where you kept one of your issued guns well hidden. Just in case.

"Fury and Agent Hill. May we come in?" His tone was slightly sarcastic on the second line.

Dammit Fury. You rip the door open. "You ever heard of calling first?"

"No." Fury said flatly, then more sarcastically, "Nice to see you too." He looked around as he entered, seemingly expecting the house to be teeming with more life than it currently seemed. "Where are your charges?"

"I wasn't expecting company. I hid them," you say almost irritably, walking to open the sitting room door, telling those inside that it was alright, it was just Fury. You walk over to the stairs and look up to see Peter peering over the railing and nod to him in a gesture that meant that he and anyone else up there should come downstairs.

When you turn back to Fury he was smiling.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course it was a test, and you complain as much. "Everything's a test with you, isn't it?"

"Not everything," he said. "You should have been expecting us for a weekly check-in."

"You neglected to mention that," you said, slightly embarrassed because you honestly should have expected check-ins even without being told.

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind." Fury said with a wry smile. He knew full well he didn't mention it.

You roll your eyes. "Nothing slips your mind," you confronted, turning now to Maria. She only offered a smile back that clearly said, 'Perhaps if you hadn't been so cranky last time...'

Peter came down the stairs with Mantis, Rocket, and Groot and everyone filed into the sitting room. You caught sight of Kraglin and Rocket again and still had to cover you mouth to fight from laughing before you turned away and tried to keep your face serious. This, of course was much to Kraglin's chagrin and Rocket's annoyance. Yondu noticed and gave Kraglin another strange look, which Kraglin only responded with a shake of his head and an expression that read, 'Please, don't ask.'

Fury spoke when everyone was settled. "This is just a routine check-in. So far your situation has not changed. As expected, NOVA is still trying to make negotiations on your behalf. We're just here to see how everyone is settling in, make sure there are no concerns or problems we need to know about."

"I got a concern," Rocket spoke up.

"If this is about the crib, we don't want to hear it." Maria replied semi-sternly.

Rocket deflated slightly before saying, "I have another concern."

Fury looked unamused, but before he could ask Rocket to elaborate, Rocket was already going into about how you were a dick and how you tossed him outside like a rag doll.

"You were attacking him," you said angrily, gesturing to Kraglin. "Was I just supposed to let you?" Of course the little shit would try to make you look bad to your boss while leaving out the part he played in the situation.

Rocket went on to say that you just had it in for him, and Mantis, who wanted to both try and calm the situation and also defend you, shyly spoke up and said, "Maybe she would like you better if you hadn't tried to poison her?"

Fury and Maria exchanged looks, hers a mix of startled surprise, Fury's one of surprised concern. Surely if there had been an attempt on your life from one of these people, you would have reported it. They turned back, Maria saying, "Excuse me?"

However, she was drowned out by Rocket saying, "That was after!" as if that were a valid defense. "And she wouldn't have died!"

"Yeah, she would have just shit herself half to death. So much better." Peter said sarcastically.

"Why do you care? She bit you!"

This earned raised eyebrows from Fury and Agent Hill. You purposely didn't meet their gaze, embarrassed.

Peter, who felt guilty at the way Rocket was doing you, then stood up for you, "In her defense I did almost break her nose." He caught the expressions of Fury and Agent Hill and added, "We were drunk, it was all just a misunderstanding," as an explanation before realizing he wasn't exactly helping either.

There was more bickering, mostly Rocket saying how much of a dick you were, and others scolding back that Rocket had been the one to start it, then he brought up how instead of helping untangle him and Kraglin you just laughed your ass off, and then others said more things that weren't really helping and everyone was talking over each other while Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassed frustration and you rubbed a hand down your face.

"Enough!" Fury said firmly, breaking up the squabbling. "We are not here to listen to petty grievances." He gave the group a stern look. "First off," he looked directly at Rocket, "do not try to poison my agent again. We can just as easily put you in a cell for the duration of your stay on Earth, but I think you'd agree this is a much better venue."

Rocket grumbled something about how'd he'd just escape, but Fury ignored him.

Fury looked at you. "And you- Do try and refrain from getting into fights with your charges." He nodded towards Peter to indicated he specifically meant drunken fights and biting. His tone was as if he was incredulously scolding a child who didn't normally do naughty things, but had suddenly decided to moon traffic. He actually hadn't expected to hear of this behavior from you. You were one of his best agents. He had the humorous thought that this group's dysfunction might be contagious.

You look down and nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now does anyone have any real concerns? Is everyone healthy? Anyone gotten sick? Are the food rations sustaining?"

Peter spoke up, afraid that Rocket would start in again. "We're all fine here. Don't listen to Rocket, he's just cranky and still adjusting. She's been a good host."

Fury grinned slightly as he looked at you. "I'd take that as a glowing review, seeing as it came from the man you apparently bit."

You felt your face grow warm and you didn't meet his gaze. You had a feeling he wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

Mantis spoke up again, now excitedly. "Oh yes! She's been very kind! She gave me this bear!"

Oh geez. Of course she'd bring up the bear. You covered your face for a moment and wondered if she ever put the thing down.

Fury looked at the stuffed toy in amusement. He could tell it wasn't new. It was in nice condition, but worn more than what would happen with a week's worth of use. Meaning, he felt you likely hadn't gone out to buy it, he had a feeling that it more than likely came from inside the house, which, if his suspicions were correct...

"Nice to see you're making friends." he said with humor in his voice, only briefly meeting your gaze before you broke it again.

Fury kept the rest of the visit brief, asking a few more questions before he clapped his hands together and said. "Alright, I believe we're done here. If nobody has any further questions, we'll be seeing you all next week. You know how to contact us if there are any problems-" he turned and gave a pointed look at Rocket, clarifying, "any real problems."

"Same time?" you ask.

"We'll see," replied Fury, turning with Maria towards the door when no one spoke up with any further concerns.

You frowned. Clearly he intended to make the next visit a 'surprise' as well. You probably shouldn't be surprised, but you didn't exactly like the anxiety attack he gave you with this 'surprise visit,' and you weren't looking forward to another one.

Rocket watched Fury and Agent Hill as they left, biting his tongue. He considered shouting out after him that you wanted to put them in chains, but of course he knew that him simply seeing the chains wouldn't be enough proof. If he called you out now, you'd probably just make something up, or maybe you had them hidden so if anyone went to look they wouldn't find them.

No. He couldn't say anything yet. He was going to bide his time. He had a suspicion he might find answers in the attic. Why else would you have told Groot there were monsters up there to keep him out, if there wasn't something you were trying to hide?

He only needed to find time to get up there when no one would notice.

At the door Fury pushed a button on his key fob and his vehicle shimmered into place as the cloaking disengaged. You looked unamused and both Fury and Maria nodded in goodbye as they departed.

You shook your head with a sigh and closed the door.

***

"I think that went well," Maria said as she buckled in. "No one's been killed yet."

Fury let half a chuckle and just looked at her before driving away.

***

Some time after Fury had left and everyone had supper you decided to treat yourself to some reading. You decided to curl up on the armchair, something you hadn't done since the Guardians first arrived. This was because you wanted to, definitely not to prove to Peter, who was sitting with Yondu at the table, that you weren't too shy to stay in the same room with other people without coercion.

You were sat curled in the armchair reading a horror novel when Kraglin walked into the room, catching your attention. Of course, when you saw it was him you were unable to hold back your snickers, though you tried to hide them behind your book.

Kraglin's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not that funny!" he groaned.

Yondu, who was growing more curious and amused asks, "What's so 'not funny' that she laughs every time she sees yer face, boy?"

Kraglin gives him a pitiful look, but before he can open his mouth to again beg him not to ask Peter answers for him, retailing the whole embarrassing story while giggling, to Yondu's delight as he starts laughing right along with Peter once he gets to the part about Rocket getting tied to Kraglin's butt.

This, of course, makes you laugh harder, and you're now shaking behind your book.

Kraglin looks like he wants to die before his expression switches to mischievous. Sure, you said you weren't ticklish the other day when Mantis was trying to make you laugh, but he was sure that was obviously a lie. He also knew from dealing with a bratty Peter through the years just how to teach you a lesson. Kraglin approaches you. "You think that's funny? I've give ya something to laugh at, brat!" he says, lunging for one of your feet and scribbling his fingers over the bottom.

This lasts all of half a second before you let out a high squeak, which is then followed by an "OOF!" by Kraglin when your other foot connects with his ribcage.

"Ow! You kick hard!" Kraglin whined, rubbing his ribs where you had just donkey-kicked him.

You blushed slightly, peering over your book. "Yeah, well... I suppose it's in your best interest if you don't try that again." You try to sound intimidating, but it comes out sounding more squeaky than you'd have liked.

"Yeah, no shit." Kraglin replied, still rubbing his ribs as he walked over to sit on the far end of the couch, as if afraid to sit too close to you now.

You muttered into your book, "I'm not even ticklish."

Kraglin just rolled his eyes at you, picking up the remote to turn on the television.

Peter and Yondu just kept laughing.

***

The next morning the novelty of having encountered Kraglin and Rocket tangled up had mostly worn off. Mostly. You didn't burst out laughing every time you saw them anymore, but Kraglin was still slightly annoyed that you still couldn't glance at him without cracking a smile. If you had just been happy to see him he wouldn't have minded, but because he knew it was only a result of yesterday's incident, it was slightly embarrassing.

However, it did make him feel a little better to tease you and Peter for jumping when the toaster popped.

You were buttering your toast when Yondu pulled a jar from the pantry. "What're these?" He hadn't tried much Terran food yet, aside from the few times you had cooked and when Peter beckoned him to try something, and today he was feeling adventurous. Might as well. He had the feeling they were going to be here awhile.

You look over to see him already opening the jar of pickled jalapeños and your eyes widen slightly. "Those are jalapeños. I recommend trying one if you haven't eaten them before, they're hot."

"They ain't hot, the jar's cool?" Yondu said, spearing three slices of jalapeño on a fork. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it. It was only Terran food, after all. What's the worst that could happen?

Seeing the oncoming tragedy that was more than likely about to happen in his mouth you tensed, "No, that's not what-"

Too late. He already ate them.

It was maybe five seconds before his mistake hit him. To his credit, he swallowed, but he also immediately closed the jar. "What the hell!?" he said, looking at you as he tried to suck air into his mouth to cool it down. "What the hell are these things?! My damn mouth is on fire!" He wasn't panicking, to your relief, but he also wasn't happy.

Peter laughed at him. He had thought he remembered jalapeños from when he was a kid, his grandpa would put them in his tacos. However, he didn't try to further warn Yondu with you, wanting to see what would happen. He wasn't disappointed even seeing Yondu glare at him for laughing as he sucked air through his teeth and wiped his now running nose on his sleeve.

You look at Yondu half-apologetically. "I tried to warn you! I told you they were hot- I mean spicy, that's why your mouth burns. Um... here..." You pull down a glass and pour him some milk. "This will help."

He eyed it. "What is it?" He thought it looked like the same white liquid Peter and Kraglin would pour into what Peter called cereal, but he had never bothered to ask them what it was.

"Milk." you answered, getting a very strange look from him in return, a mix of 'What the fuck?!' and near disgust.

Peter spoke up from the table. "It's from a cow. It ain't hers, dude. It's fine."

Your eyes widen, scandalized, as you look to Peter. "Excuse me?"

He looks at you apologetically. "Sorry, I know this is normal here, but uh, on most other planets... you won't really find 'milk' ...unless you're uh, feeding a baby."

A high, "Hmmm..." is all you respond, not sure what else to say to the implication that the blue man thought you were somehow offering him your milk. Your eyes were still wide and you could feel your face growing warm at the uncomfortable information but you still offered out the glass, setting it on the counter between you. "Well this is all I have to offer for the burning. Otherwise you're going to have to wait it out." You cross your arms over your chest self-consciously.

Yondu looked like he was considering for a moment, before hesitantly reaching out to take the glass.

"Drink it slow, it will help with the burning." You then add, mildly scolding. "Next time listen."

He grumbled, but took the glass and sat down at the table next to Kraglin to drink it. Kraglin covered his mouth with his fist, trying not to laugh and looking like he wanted to say something, but Yondu glared at him, grumbling. "Not a word."

Kraglin managed to giggle out a, "Yes, sir." before returning his attention to his cereal, a new food Peter introduced to him a couple days ago that actually wasn't half bad.

Everything was fine for about half an hour or so. You finished your toast and had some juice, and the guys had finished their food as well and the four of you sat in the kitchen talking. Well, they were talking, you were mostly sitting and listening, mostly just making an effort to sit for more than five minutes so Peter would stop giving you that look that said, "Ha, knew you were shy," that he had recently taken to giving you.

Then Yondu suddenly bent slightly and held his stomach with a stifled grunt.

You raised an eyebrow, as did the other two. "You ok?" you asked, seeing his pained expression.

Yondu glared then tensed again, grunting out a "Dammit." before pushing his chair back and making his way quickly from the kitchen without another word.

The three of you shared confused glances.

Then you heard the bathroom door loudly close, and not too long after that began to hear loud noises of the... smelly variety.

Peter half-stifled a laugh, saying. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, I guess."

You could hear the sound of the toilet flush a bit later, but Yondu didn't return. Instead you started to hear the "smelly" noises again, followed by muffled cursing.

Gamora entered the kitchen, holding her nose. You knew that wasn't a good sign regarding the smell of your hallway, and you were only grateful it hadn't made it into the kitchen yet, though you were now less than eager to leave and risk facing it.

"Is he alright?" she asked Peter.

"He'll be fine." Peter laughed in response, receiving a look from Gamora as she sat next to him, no doubt seeking a reprieve from the odor.

A few minutes passed and he still remained in the jacks, but the smell had its own travel plans.

"Oh hell," you choke out, seemingly the first one of the four of you (aside from Gamora from before) the smell decided to assault. You motioned to Peter. "You- windows- help- please? Now?" you say, gagging as you stood and made your way to open the closest window.

"Right behind you!" Peter said, standing and quickly making to open any window in the kitchen he could find. Kraglin stood with Gamora and they left the kitchen, stating that they were going to open the windows in the sitting room and see if that might help. You could hear gagging from the hallway when they left the kitchen. Peter made his way further down the room and gagged as he opened the back door, a cloud of stink having unfortunately pooled down that way as it was the end closest to the bathroom.

He braved the stink just long enough to shout, "Damn, man! What did you eat!?" He only got a, "Oh, grow up!" in response from Yondu from behind the bathroom door.

You exited the kitchen from the other end to open the front door, coughing as your fears were confirmed and the smell was much worse outside the kitchen. You wondered if you should open the upstairs windows as well.

This thought was confirmed when you could hear the sounds of Mantis gagging at the top of the stairs and Drax asking if an animal had died in the house, then going on to confirm it wasn't Rocket as he was with him and Rocket indignantly yelling, "Hey!"

You made your way upstairs, Peter taking your lead and following to open the windows upstairs to help air the house out.

Yondu had only just exited the bathroom when you came downstairs, not looking too pleased. However, he only made it about a meter outside the door before wincing as a cramp told him he wasn't actually finished and spinning on his heels to return to the toilet.

Now Peter actually seemed mildly concerned. "Dude, you ok in there?" he called from a 'safe' distance from the door, as if anywhere was safe from the smell anymore.

There was only more embarrassing noises in response to Peter's question.

"Yondu?" Peter called out.

"Leave me alone, boy! Can't ya see I'm a little busy at the moment?!"

"I can definitely smell it!" Peter shouted back.

"I'm gonna head outside," you choke out, looking at Gamora. "Care to join?" It was less of an invitation and more of a hint. If you value air, maybe get out of the house.

"Way ahead of you dorks!" Rocket called as he ran out the front door with Groot clinging to his back, gagging.

Everyone else followed out the front door, not willing to risk walking toward the back.

"Fresh air!" Peter cried out once he was outside in such a funny way you couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head despite sharing the same sentiments.

After a couple moments of taking in the fresh air, you decided to walk around back. While you were out here you might as well fix the swing.

"Where you going?" Drax asked after you.

Before you could answer, Peter replied in teasing voice, "She's running away 'cause she's shy." Gamora elbowed him and told him to quit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't turn back, flipping him the bird. "I am not. Knock it off."

"Then you won't mind if we join you then, huh?"

You shrugged as you continued walking. "I don't care what you do." you say flippantly, turning the corner of the house.

Peter grinned mischievously. "Oh! So you won't care if I do this?" He jogged after you and all the others heard was a squeaky yip that likely came from you, Peter crying "Ow!" and you responding with, "Then quit that!"

Drax called out, "Mister Fury said no fighting!" as the rest of them followed after the two of you.

"Then Gamora, please come get your child!" is what response came from around the wall.

Drax gave a confused look to Gamora. "Does she really think Quill could be your child?"

Gamora shook her head. "No, Drax. She's just insulting Peter for acting like a child."

You glared at Peter as he rubbed his arm.

"Did you really need to punch so hard?" he asked, laughter in his voice despite the pain.

"Don't startle me next time." You warn, crossing your arms and turning back to keep walking.

Peter smirked. "Oh sure. 'Startle.' Looked a lot more to me like that tickled."

You look back to him with a glare.

Peter held up his hands in a defensive gesture and laughed, and you saw the others rounding the corner and decided to just walk away and let him live for now. Definitely wasn't because you were slightly worried he might try to prove his theory in front of all the others.

You unlocked the shed, grabbed the items you needed from where you had placed them on the workbench the previous day, and shut the shed door and locked it back up all before the others really got near. You hadn't told anyone about the bed frame yet and you didn't intend to, at least not until it was finished.

You dropped the chains by the old swing and walked back towards the shed to grab the ladder leaning against the back wall so that you could cut the old rope away from the large eye hooks drilled into the branch that had been embedded in the tree so long they were now a permanent fixture.

On your way back with the ladder Kraglin asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Fixing the swing," you say, not looking at him as you set up the ladder.

You grab the two lengths of chains and start to ascend the ladder when he speaks again. "Would ya like some help with that? Those chains look heavy."

They weren't. Well, they were heavy enough to support a person, but not heavy enough, or you weak enough, that you couldn't hoist them up the ladder. "I think I can manage," you say, slightly irritated. Last thing you wanted was some "Let the man do the lifting" crap.

"It's just that-"

You look sharply at him, "Just what?"

"Nothin' ma'am." His voice cracked as he spoke and you turned back to carrying the chains back up the ladder.

Rocket, who kept an eye on you the moment he saw the chains, but tried not to make a show of it, came over and stood next to Kraglin, Mantis following close behind.

"Are you fixing the swing?" Mantis asks shyly.

"Yep." you say, clipping one chain to the eye-hook with a locking carabiner.

"I'm sorry I broke it."

You don't look down, reaching up to attach the other chain as you say, "Already told you, wasn't your fault. The rope was old. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so if she breaks something you'll replace it." Rocket said bitterly.

You climb down the ladder and look at him in annoyance. "There's a difference between the rope snapping on her, and you almost throwing the remote through the TV screen during a tantrum."

"I was not throwing a tantrum!" Rocket said indignantly.

"Close enough. Fighting with Peter over it, better?"

Rocket doesn't answer, just crosses his arms and glares at you before taking off. Truthfully, he was less mad about that and more surprised that he saw the chains were being used to fix the swing instead of being used to tie him or his team up. But this didn't mean you still weren't a dick. Just because he was wrong about this one thing, didn't mean he was wrong about you probably hiding some dark plans or something. He just had to find it. He certainly wasn't grasping at straws or anything just 'cause he didn't like you...

You reach down and pick up the wooden seat of the swing. You cut off the rope still attached to the eye hooks running through the board and repeat the same process to attach the chain as you had above.

When you were finished to turned to Mantis and said, "Wanna try it out?"

She giggled excitedly and nodded before hopping on the swing.

You smile and pick up the scraps of rope you had thankfully tossed out of swing-range and noticed Kraglin was gone. So was your ladder.

You turned to see him returning it back to where you had gotten it from and you called after him, "You didn't need to do that!"

He replied back with, "I know!"

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the shed to toss the scraps in the rubbish bin, wondering how long it might take for the house to be inhabitable again.

Gamora and Peter watched as you had finished repairing the swing and smiled. Peter internally noted that you seemed to have a soft spot for Mantis. Of all of them, her and Groot always seemed to get your softer side, even when it was obvious you were trying not to make it obvious. He grinned, sure that there were some advantages to be had from that.

By the time you had met back up with the rest Yondu could be seen exiting the house from the back door and walking towards the group, no doubt also seeking refuge from the smell.

Peter grinned cheekily and asked, "Everything come out ok?"

Yondu just glared at him before grumpily turning to you. "I think that milk stuff ya gave me went bad."

Peter spoke up, "Inside of you, maybe. Kraglin and I ate it and we're fine."

Kraglin nodded in agreement, saying he felt fine. He then suggested that maybe it was those spicy things he ate that didn't agree with him.

Your eyes widened and you crossed your arms nervously. You remembered how Rocket had attempted to poison you with the xanti-berries, and think you just realized what happened. You had accidentally actually did what Rocket had tried to do to you, to Yondu. You wince and say, "I'm sorry."

Noticing your change in expression, Yondu asks, "What?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, "I didn't even think that the milk might make you sick."

Yondu made a grouchy face but said, "Whatever. Guess I know now."

Rocket, who had been listening in not too far off came up and said, "So when I try to do it to her, I'm an asshole, but when she actually poisons him, everything's just dandy!?"

You narrow your eyes but before you can spout off Yondu speaks up irritably. "If I didn't even know it would happen, how the hell is she supposed to know, Rat?"

"Yeah, she was only tryin' to help him." added Kraglin. "Ain't her fault."

Rocket huffed and skulked away. "Whatever," he said, waving you all off, "Screw you all."

"Ignore him." Peter said, annoyance clear in his voice, and changed the subject to something less likely to piss everyone off.

Eventually you all were able to re-enter the house again without gagging.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #yondu udonta #nick fury #peter quill #rocket raccoon #kraglin obfonteri #drax the destroyer #gamora #groot #mantis #surprise #earth is space australia

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reallifesultanas · 3 years ago

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A Valide titulus / The Valide title

The title of Valide was the title of the mother of the Sultan. However, this seemingly logical title has also undergone many changes over the centuries of the sultanate. In this post, I would like to introduce this change and introduce the mother of the sultans from Osman I to the last sultan Mehmed IV's mother.

Valide Hatun

In the early centuries, the title of Valide Sultan did not yet exist, instead, Valide Hatun was in use. Valide was practically the address of the mother, and Hatun was the respectful address of the women, practically something like "My Lady." Thus, mothers were often called Valide Hatun even when their sons were not yet sultans, merely the governor of provinces. The mission of Valide Hatun began long before their son ascended the throne. At that time, these women were still simple concubines living in the sultan’s harem. During this time, their primary task was to take care and raise their children, and later accompany their single son (there could be no more sons because of the one-concubine-one-son law) to his designated province. In the province, it was the job of Valide Hatun to control the court of the young prince and begin to form a harem for his son, disciplining his concubines and grandchildren. If the Valide Hatun had daughters, they also went to the designated province with their mother and younger brother.

Valide Hatun was at the peak of her position when her son was young, so she could deal with all sorts of matters with relative freedom in the province. A great example of this is an account of Selim I’s mother, Ayşe Gülbahar Hatun. Ayşe Gülbahar held a weekly audience in Trabzon, Selim’s provincial post, where everyone listened to her words with great respect. As Selim then grew older and more and more mature, his mother became more and more relegated to the background. It was the same, of course, with all the other Valide Hatuns.

When their son ascended the throne, it became their job to control the harem, to keep it in order. They had no political influence, except in a few exceptional cases. Of course, in addition to their duties, the Valide Hatuns did a lot of charity and, if they had the time, also set up construction projects. In practice, charity and construction have been their right since their sons were escorted to the province. This is why most of the future Valide Hatuns have construction in their sons' former province.

Naturally, as time went on, the tasks of Valide Hatun also became more difficult. Previously, the Ottoman Empire was smaller, the capital and the Sultan's palace were more modest, so it was relatively easy to keep the harem in order. However, after the conquest of Constantinople, the mighty Old Palace became the home of the Sultan’s harem, which was a real little town in the city (you can read more about it here). In parallel with the move to the Old Palace, the political influence of Valide Hatun also increased. And pretty slowly the peak of Valide’s power also shifted. They could no longer live their most influential period in the provinces, but in the capital, during the reign of their sons.

A list of de facto and classic Valide Hatuns, complete with mothers who did not survive until their son's rule:

Halime Hatun, the presumed mother of Osman I. There are many legends circulating about her, so some claim she was a Seljuk Princess, but there is no evidence to suggest this. She was more likely to be a simple commoner or a child of an influential family. It was not typical for beys and rulers of that time to marry slaves or to keep a harem in the classical sense. We don't know anything about Halime's life, how many children she had when she was born when she died ... It's not even certain that she was the mother of Osman I.

Malhun Hatun, mother of Orhan I. Orhan was the first sultan in the classical sense, but even he formed a transition between the true sultanate and the earlier tribal system. Malhun Hatun was said by some to be daughter of an influential tribe, others say she was the daughter of a sheikh. Either way, she was certainly the lawful wife of Osman I and she gave birth to the later Orhan I. She is considered the mother of the Ottoman Empire and the Ottoman family. The date of her birth, the exact number of her children are not known, but we know that she died before 1324. This is indicated by the fact that her son built a complex in 1324 in honor of Malhun. Since this date coincides with the beginning of Orhan's reign, it cannot be ruled out that Malhun passed away much earlier. It is possible that before this date simply Orhan, being not yet a ruler, did not have the opportunity to build anything for his mother’s memory. So, finally, after he ascended the throne, he was able to embark on building a complex as soon as possible so that he could finally pay his respects. Either way, it is likely that Malhun had no control over his rule as she was not alive.

Nilüfer Hatun, mother of Murad I. Nilüfer was the first to rise from a slave to the rank of sultan's mother almost without a doubt. We know that she became Orhan's concubine after 1324, as she is not listed in a report from 1324, which mentions Orhan's other main concubines (who gave birth to children) or his wife. Nilüfer's child, Murad, was born in 1326, but the woman's first mentioning was not made until 1331 when she greeted a certain traveler named Ibn Battuta on behalf of Orhan in Nikea. Based on this and Murad's year of birth, we can calculate that Nilüfer may have been born around 1300, but rather after that. She died in 1383, so she survived the enthronement of her son. And with that, she became the first Valide Hatun in the history of the empire. She ruled for 21 years, however, we do not know much about her actions.

Gülçiçek Hatun, mother of Bayezid I. Contrary to legend, Gülçiçek was a slave, perhaps of Greek descent. It is not known when she became Murad I’s concubine, but her son was born in 1360. We don’t know much about Gülçiçek’s life, the exact number of her children. What is certain, however, is that she reached her son’s reign and during these years she had a mosque built in Bursa. With this, she became the first Valide Hatun to have a mosque built. The time of her death is not known either, so it is not clear that she was alive at the end of her son's reign when Bayezid I was captured by Timur Lenk in 1402. Gülçiçek was buried in Bursa in her own complex.

Devlet Hatun, mother of Mehmed I. Devlet was also a woman of slave origin. In her case, there is no doubt about that, as there is evidence available. She is listed in the records of one of her foundations as Daulat bint-i Abd’Allah, meaning she was the daughter of a non-Muslim and non-Turkish man. We don’t know much about her life, for there was a legal wife in Bayezid I’s life who was much better known, so Devlet didn’t really get into the spotlight. After the abduction and death of Bayezid I, the empire operated under interrgnum rule, so the sons of Bayezid divided the empire together. This ended in 1413 when Devlet's son Mehmed became monarch after defeating his brothers. However, Devlet was not able to enjoy the Valide Hatunship for long, as she died in January 1414 and was buried in Bursa, just after a year-long tenure.

Emine Hatun, Murad II's supposed mother. The identity of Murad's mother is still disputed to this day. In terms of her origins, Emine was a princess of Dulkadir, the child of an influential family. She officially married Mehmed Çelebi in 1403, when the Ottoman interregnum began. Their marriage was purely political, as Mehmed tried to gain - successfully - the support of the Dulkadir family, who eventually became key figures in his enthronement. In addition to Emine, it also arises that Murad's mother was the daughter of a family of noble descent called Şehzade Hatun. But it is also possible that an unnamed and insignificant slave was Murad's mother. We don't know when Emine or Şehzade Hatuns died.

Hüma Hatun, Mehmed II's mother. There are also many legends around Hüma, some say she was a Byzantine princess, others say she was a simple slave, but Venetian and Hungarian origins also arise. Most likely, however, Hüma was a simple slave, as her name suggests. She is mentioned in the records of one of her foundations as "Hatun bint-i Abdullah", which was one of the usual names for women of slave origin. We know very little about Hüma's life, which was not helped by the fact that her son Mehmed refused to ever talk about his mother. What is certain is that in 1343 she followed her son Mehmed to Amasya, where the sultan appointed Mehmed as governor. The next year Sultan Murad became depressed and resigned from the throne, so in 1344 Mehmed took over. At that time Hüma became Valide Hatun, but instead of the young sultan, the Grand Vizier ruled. So there was no real power in the hands of Hüma either. Then, in 1346, Sultan Murad returned, and Mehmed's brief reign came to an end. Hüma spent the next few years in Bursa, and her life from here on again was a set of question marks. Some say she died in 1449 before Mehmed could ascend the throne in 1451, others said that mother and son had arguments, which is why Hüma never followed her son to the conquested Constantinople and therefore never became Valide Hatun to her adult son.

Gülbahar Hatun, Bayezid II's mother. In the case of Gülbahar, too, a foundation document has survived, which clarifies that she was a woman of slave descent. Her origin was Greek or Albanian. In 1455/6 Bayezid was appointed by his father, Mehmed II as governor of Amasya, so Gülbahar and Bayezid traveled there and remained there until 1581 when Mehmed II died. During this time, Gülbahar was very active in Amasya. She held huge fortunes and also dealt a lot with local politics compared to her predecessors. Gülbahar was a rather strong-willed woman who certainly easily coped with the rule of the huge Old Palace after her son's accession to the throne in 1581. Her strong personality is well illustrated by one of her letters, in which she rebukes his adult son, Sultan Bayezid, for not visiting her often enough. In his letter, she writes, "My fortune, I miss you. Even if you don't miss me, I miss you ... Come and let me see you. My dear lord, if you are going on campaign soon, come once or twice at least so that I may see your fortune-favored face before you go. It's been forty days since I last saw you. My sultan, please forgive my boldness. Who else do I have beside you ... ?" Gülbahar's other letters also show that she often advised her son on political matters as well. She eventually died in 1492 after 11 years of rule and was buried in Istanbul. Gülbahar was the first Valide Hatun to rule in Istanbul and to have a significant influence on her son and politics as well.

Ayşe Gülbahar, mother of Selim I. Ayşe Gülbahar is mentioned in one of her foundation documents as "Hatun bint-i Abd-us-Samed", which was a typical mention for Christian-born Balkan and Anatolian converts. Based on this, it is probable that Ayşe Gülbahar was an Anatolian or Balkan slave who then became the concubine of Bayezid II. Ayşe Gülbahar, as I mentioned above, had high-arching eyebrows like angular hats over her dark, deep-set eyes, she shot daggers at those who prostrated in deference to her. Certainly the similar features of her son, Selim I was inherited from her. Ayşe Gülbahar gave birth to her only son Selim in 1470, with whom they lived in the harem of Bayezid until Selim became governor of Trabzon. In Trabzon, Ayşe Gülbahar had great influence, but as her son became more and more mature, she became more and more relegated to the background. Ayşe Gülbahar did not reach Selim's reign as she died in Trabzon presumably sometime before 1511. In 1514 her son, Selim had a complex built in Trabzon in memory and honor of his mother.

Valide Sultan

During his reign, Bayezid II created the title of Sultan (Sultana), which his daughters could use. Thanks to the rank of Sultan, the female members of his family rose well above the other Hatuns (women). However, Bayezid did not extend the title to his own mother, Gülbahar. Selim I's mother, Ayşe Gülbahar, died before Selim ascended the throne. Thus, in the end, it was Suleiman I who extended the title of Sultan to his mother. Thus, not only his aunts, sisters, and daughters could hold the title of Sultan, but also his mother, Ayşe Hafsa. With this, Ayşe Hafsa became the first Valide Sultan. However, this change in responsibilities did not mean anything. The Valide Sultan was still responsible for keeping the imperial harem in order after her son ascended the throne, supervising the sultan's family (concubines, children). As much as the remit remained the same, so much changed in the addressing. Previously, Valide Hatun was a respectful address for mothers, so they were already called that in the provinces. Valide Sultan, on the other hand, was clearly only a title reserved for the sultan's mother.

Murad III brought a huge change for the rank of Valide Sultan. Until then, Valide Sultan was only a respectful name for the sultan's mother, there was no official, legal title for it. By official, legal title, I mean, such as the Grand Vizier or the Chief eunuch. These positions had specific responsibilities and were not just addressing, but real titles, positions. It was Murad III who, on his accession to the throne in 1574, made the title of Valide Sultan a registered, official and legal title. This was a huge step forward for the Valide Sultan of all time. From then on, her role became official. She was not only the sultan’s mother but a person in her own right as Valide Sultan. Previously, the Valides signed their letters and foundation documents as the mother of the Sultan XY, but from then on they could sign them as the XY Valide Sultan.

The changes created by Murad III practically lasted until the end of the empire’s existence. Though the Valide Sultan over time lost the prominent influence she represented in the 16th and 17th centuries. In the 16th and 17th centuries, the power of Valides reached unprecedented levels. Due to unfit sultans, child sultans, and the evolution of the geopolitical situation, several of them were de facto or official regents. After the end o their regencies, their primary role was to keep the sultans’ harem in order, but they also paid special attention to charity and politics. In the 16th and 17th centuries, no Valide Sultan could be found without a political role.

List of Valide Sultans, supplemented by mothers who did not survive their son's reign:

Ayşe Hafsa Sultan, mother of Suleiman I. Ayşe Hafsa was the concubine of Selim I, who gave birth to at least three children. We don't know much about her early years. Hafsa was the first slave to hold the title of Sultan after her son, Suleiman, ascended the throne. The rule of Ayşe Hafsa was quite similar to her predecessor, Gülbahar. Hafsa led Suleiman’s harem in the Old Palace, creating a balance between her son’s concubines, paying attention to the well-being of her grandchildren, and doing plenty of charity. Hafsa was loved and respected by all, she was one of the most adored Valide Sultans. She was politically minimally active, had her own men, and when her son asked for her opinion, she tried to help him. However, Hafsa never wanted to overrule her son, so she didn’t even deal with politics more than necessary. She was Valide Sultan for 14 years, and after her death in 1534 she became the first slave-origin woman to receive an imperial burial. A longer biography is available at link.

Hürrem Sultan, Selim II's mother. Hürrem was a woman of Ruthenian origin who gave birth to six children to Sultan Suleiman I. Hürrem played a real form-breaking role, as she was associated with the abolition of several previous rules (one-concubine-one-son, marriage of sultans, residence of concubines) and associated with the creation of several new roles (Haseki Sultan title, harem leadership, sending princes alone to the province, etc.). However, Hürrem never saw her son Selim II to became a sultan, as he ascended the throne in 1566 and she died in 1558. A longer biography is available at link.

Nurbanu Sultan, Murad III's mother. Nurbanu was a slave of Venetian origin who then became the concubine of Selim II and gave him several children. We do not know much about her early years as she came into the public consciousness when in 1566 Selim ascended the throne. Nurbanu is a special woman in several aspcts: she was the first to hold the rank both of Haseki Sultan and Valide Sultan; and she also was a legal wife. To show his respect for his mother Murad III created a real official title out of the Valide Sultan title, making Nurbanu the first to wear it. Throughout her life, she did a lot of charity, building projects, and also had a huge influence on politics, her son asked for her opinion on everything. She was a Valide Sultan for 9 years from 1574 until her death in 1583. A longer biography is available at link.

Safiye Sultan, Mehmed III's mother. She was a concubine of Albanian descent, raised and taught by Suleiman I's granddaughter, Hümaşah Sultan. She gifted the girl to the later Murad III, with whom she had several children. Safiye reached both hell and heaven as she had a privileged status as Haseki Sultan and then was exiled and then became a legal wife. She reached the peak of her power as Valide Sultan when she ruled instead of her son Mehmed, who was unfit to rule. She was not popular at all, there were several uprisings against her persona, during which several of her supporters were executed. Safiye was the first Valide Sultan (and probably even the first Valide) to survive her sultan-son. This created an unusual situation, and it was not clear to her grandson Ahmed I what to do with his grandmother. Eventually, due to her unpopularity, Safiye was sent to the Old Palace, which has become the palace for the family of the deceased sultans so far. The influential Safiye, who had previously ruled the empire, found it difficult to bear this and felt it as an exile. It was for this reason that, in revenge, she completely damaged the Sultan's harem in Topkapi Palace, making her own return permanently impossible. Seeing her grandson and the rule of two more sultans, she finally died around 1620. A longer biography is available at link.

Handan Sultan, mother of Ahmed I. Handan was a slave of Bosnian origin who was raised and educated by Selim II's daughter, Gevherhan Sultan. Handan could not prevail at a young age as her tyrant's mother-in-law, Safiye suppressed all of Mehmed III's concubines. Handan found herself finally in the spotlight in 1603, when Mehmed died and the son of Handan, ascended the throne. The young sultan, Ahmed, was only 13 years old, so regents were needed beside him. Sultan Ahmed had two regents, his mother Handan and his teacher. Handan was an unofficially appointed regent but practically ruled instead of her son for months, attended audiences, organized political cleansing (to get rid of Safiye Sultan's men). Handan's life ended quite early, and due to her death in 1605, she became one of the shortest reigning Valide Sultans, with only 2 years of reign. At the same time, we must not forget that she was the first female regent of the empire. A longer biography is available at link.

Halime Sultan, mother of Mustafa I. Unlike Handan, Halime, who was also Mehmed III's concubine, was intolerant of Safiye Sultan's bullying and she tried to pick up the fight with her mother-in-law. Her ambitions were also shared by her son, Mahmud, who repeatedly spoke openly against his grandmother and father, the Sultan. The battle between Safiye and Halime ended in the summer of 1603, when, under pressure from Safiye, the sultan executed Mahmud. The life of Halime was spared, but soon her other son, the toddler Mustafa was separated from her. Mustafa struggled with serious mental problems, which is why it was surprising when, after Ahmed I's death, he was finally chosen as heir. Ahmed was the first sultan not to execute his brothers when he ascended the throne, and this led to a change in the order of inheritance. From then on, it was not the sultan's son who followed the sultan on the throne, but the eldest living prince. Due to Mustafa’s tragic mental state, Halime ruled instead of him as the first official regent. In times of political instability, Mustafa was dethroned but was soon proclaimed sultan again. This made Halime the first Valide Sultan to be the Valide Sultan twice with the same son. After Mustafa's second dethronement, mother and son continued to live in isolation for many years. A longer biography is available at link.

Mahfiruz Hatun, mother of Osman II. Mahfiruz was Ahmed I's concubine, who, although was the eldest son's mother, was not Ahmed's favorite concubine. We know quite a bit about Mahfiruz's personality and actions due to her early death. Not living long enough to see her son's accession to the throne in 1618, she never became Valide Sultan. Her name also suggests this, as she was buried as Mahfiruz Hatun, not as Mahfiruz Sultan. A longer biography is available at link.

Kösem Sultan, the mother of Sultans Murad IV and Ibrahim I. Kösem, of Greek descent, found herself in a rather volatile political and geopolitical situation when her partner Ahmed I passed away. During the chaos of inheritance, she lost her eldest son, whom Osman II executed. Osman soon suffered a similar fate after being brutally murdered by rebellious Janissaries. The chaotic period ended in 1623 when Kösem's son Murad has proclaimed a sultan at just 11 years old. Kösem ruled as regent instead of him for many years, then when her son became old enough to rule, she retired. Kösem did a lot of charity during her Valide Sultanship and sought to be a political adviser to his son. Murad - not having a living son - was succeeded by his younger brother Ibrahim, who was also the son of Kösem. Ibrahim was mentally ill, like his uncle, so instead, Kösem ruled as an unofficial regent. Due to her two sons, Kösem was practically Valide Sultan from 1623 to 1648, so for 25 years. Eventually, Ibrahim was dethroned and replaced by his six-year-old son, Mehmed IV. The pashas asked the experienced Kösem Sultan to teach the young sultan and his mother Turhan Hatice to rule. And until then they asked Kösem to rule as a regent again. However, she acted differently and began to rule violently. This ended with her execution in 1651. She was the first and only Valide Sultan to be executed. A longer biography is available at link.

Turhan Hatice Sultan, Mehmed IV's mother. Turhan, of Russian descent, had a rather difficult youth as the concubine of the mentally ill Ibrahim I. The difficult period finally ended in 1651, when Turhan became the official regent to her son. She performed this task for only a few years and then handed over power to the Grand-Vizier. Throughout Turhan's life, she was politically very active, her son regularly sought his mother's opinion, and many times Turhan ruled by herself as her son did not like to rule. During her life, Turhan defended with all her might his foster sons, whom Mehmed wanted to execute at one point in his reign. Turhan Hatice was a truly respected and beloved Valide Sultan, who did a lot of charity and also carried out monumental constructions during her long reign. She was the longest reigning Valide, having held office for 32 years. At her death in 1683, the whole empire mourned and the people believed that the empire had lost its last strong and stable pillar. Unfortunately, they were right, Turhan's son was soon dethroned because he was unable to rule properly without his mother's advices. A longer biography of Turhan Hatice is available at: link.

Saliha Dilşub Sultan, Suleiman II's mother. Saliha Dilaşub, like Turhan and Ibrahim I’s other concubines, experienced rather confusing times in her youth. It is likely that Kösem Sultan wanted to use her and her son during a coup against Mehmed IV and Turhan Hatice in 1651. The coup was unsuccessful, Kösem Sultan was executed, however, Mehmed and his mother forgave Saliha and her son Suleiman. Moreover, Turhan protected Saliha's son throughout her life. Saliha Dilaşub lived in the Old Palace for almost forty years, separated from her son during the whole reign of Mehmed IV. Finally, after the dethronement of Mehmed in 1687, Saliha was able to leave the Old Palace to became a Valide Sultan to her son. Unfortunately, however, she did not enjoy this for long, as she died only after 2.5 years of rule. Her reign thus remained relatively gray, and although her philanthropy is known, she did not have time to activate herself politically. A longer biography is available at link.

Hatice Muazzez Sultan, Ahmed II's mother. Along with Saliha Dilaşub and Turhan, Muazzez was also the concubine of Ibrahim I and had a rather hard youth. We know very little about Muazzez's life, presumably, she had a daughter besides Ahmed. She spent 40 years in the Old Palace. During Mehmed’s reign, she barely met her son Ahmed. In September of 1687, a huge fire destroyed the Old Palace, and Muazzez, fearing the fire had a heart attack and died a few days later. Barely two months after her death, Saliha Dilaşub, who was "imprisoned" along with her, was able to leave the Old Palace, as her son Suleiman II became the sultan. Muazzez's son Ahmed II succeeded Suleiman in 1691. A longer biography is available at link.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş Sultan, mother of Mustafa II and Ahmed III. She was a woman of Greek descent who from a slave became the last influential woman of the Sultanate of Women. She was both a Haseki and Valide Sultan in her life, so she held the two most important titles of the era. In her youth, she had a huge influence as a favorite and was very active politically. When her partner, Mehmed IV was dethroned, Emetullah was forced into the Old Palace, which she could only leave in 1694, when she became a Valide Sultan to her son Mustafa II. She raised her former influence to even higher levels, having an amazing influence on political life and her son. Unfortunately, this aroused the disapproval of the pashas. Finally, her son was dethroned in 1703, and also Mustafa soon died of natural causes. Emetullah mourned her son and then, learning from her mistakes, throughout the reign of Ahmed III's, she remained in the background and worked closely with the pashas. Lots of charities, construction can be linked to her. Due to her two sons' reigns, she was a Valide Sultan for a total of 20 years. A longer biography is available at link.

Saliha Sultan, mother of Mahmud I. She was a woman of Serbian descent. As the concubine of Sultan Mustafa II, she had no prominent influence but had the opportunity to learn a lot from her mother-in-law, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş. She gave birth to her son in 1696, and soon after, in 1703, Mustafa was dethroned and so she moved to the Old Palace. There, however, she did not accept her exile, she constantly was building relationships. In 1730 she was finally could leave Old Palace as her son, Mahmud I, ascended the throne. She was a Valide Sultan for 9 years and similarly to her predecessor, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, she gained amazing power. Everyone was trying to get into her graces to ensure their own advancement. They tried to win over the influential Valide with gifts. During her tenure, she embarked on several smaller construction projects, so there are several fountains she built in Istanbul. One such is the Azapkapı Saliha Sultan Fountain, the most beautiful water architectural monument in Istanbul.

Şehsuvar Sultan, mother of Osman III. She was the concubine of Mustafa II, but she could enjoy the spotlight for only a short period. Her child was born in 1699, and in 1703 she found herself in the Old Palace after the dethronement of Mustafa II. Like Saliha, Şehsuvar could no longer raise her son as the princes were taken to Topkapi Palace. Finally, in 1754, she was able to find herself on her son's side again when Osman became the new sultan of the empire. Osman, who had barely been able to meet his mother for decades, refused to immediately hold the coronation ceremony, as he only wanted to spend three days with his mother. Şehsuvar's reign was quite short, as she was a Valide Sultan for only 1.5 years. She died in 1756. No political, charitable or construction projects took place during this time. In some political cases, however, her role is possible, so she cannot be considered completely politically inactive.

Mihrişah Kadın, was Mustafa III's mother. She was the concubine of Ahmed III, and gave birth to three sons with quite large age differences (1710, 1717, 1728). After the dethronement of Ahmed III in 1730, Mihrişah was moved to the Old Palace, where she died two years later, 25 years before her son's accession. During her lifetime, she had some minor construction projects though she could never have been Valide Sultan.

Rabia Şermi Kadın, mother of Abdul Hamid I. Şermi was Ahmed III's concubine, with whom she had only one child, in 1725, Abdul Hamid. Şermi died in 1732, more than 40 years before her son accession. During her short life she could not leave a deep mark on history, she only had a single fountain built. Her son later named one of his children, Rabia, in her honor, but the little girl died shortly after her birth.

Mihrişah Sultan, Selim III's mother. Mihrişah was the concubine of Mustafa III. It is an interesting coincidence that Mustafa's mother was also called Mihrişah. The beautiful Georgian slave became the concubine of Mustafa in 1757. She had three children, but only Selim reached adulthood, as her two daughters died as infants. We don't know much about her youth, but she certainly had great wealth even then, because according to surviving documents, the sultan himself owed to her. After the sudden death of her partner in 1774, she was exiled to the Old Palace, from where she could only return 15 years later when her son Selim ascended the throne. Mihrişah was a Valide Sultan for 16 years alongside Selim. During these years, she strongly supported her son’s innovations. The renovation of the harem of Topkapi Palace can be linked to her name, but she also had several construction projects. Mihrişah and her son were very close to each other, they discussed everything and according to some Selim visited his mother every morning. Regardless, Mihrişah did not use her influence, did not interfere in politics, but rather spent her time in religion and charity. She died in 1805.

Sineperver Sultan, Mustafa IV's mother. In 1774 she became Abdul Hamid's concubine and in 1779 gave birth to her son. So far, Sineperver has buried a son. Because of the tragic memory, she asked for prayers for Mustafa's health after his birth and she paid the debt of prisoner so they could be released. Her prayers were heard, Mustafa reached adulthood, so did Sineperver’s daughter, Esma Sultan. Her other daughter, Fatma, on the other hand, died as her first child, Ahmed. In 1789 Abdul Hamid died and Sineperver moved to the Old Palace. She was able to leave it in 1807, when her son, Mustafa IV became sultan. Unfortunately, Mustafa's reign was rather short, he sat on the throne for barely 1 year, then he was dethroned and soon executed. Sineperver dedicated her remaining years to her only living child, Esma Sultan. She died in 1828.

Nakşidil Sultan, Mahmud II's mother. For a long time there was a theory that she was a distant relative of Josephine, Napoleon's wife. But it has now been proven that she was a slave of Georgian descent. She gave birth to her son Mahmud in 1785 as the concubine of Abdul Hamid. Unfortunatelly Abdul Hamid died in 1789 and Nakşidil moved to the Old Palace. In 1808 her stepson, Mustafa IV ascended the throne. He then executed his predecessor Selim III and also sent assassins against Nakşidil's son Mahmud. Nakşidil hid her son, so he survived and soon became a sultan in a coup. In return for Mustafa IV's attempted murder, Mahmud executed his half-brother immediately after his accession to the throne. Nakşidil moved back to Topkapi Palace during a huge ceremony. She was the last Valide to travel from the Old Palace to Topkapi in such way. One reason for this was that the dynasty began to favor other imperial palaces over Topkapi. (Actually it was Nakşidil whose idea was to change palace.) In the early years of Mahmud’s reign, he regularly consulted with his mother. The Valide Sultan did a lot of charity and also had smaller to larger construction projects. Nakşidil was a Valide Sultan for 9 years since she died of tuberculosis in 1817. Her son Mahmud, her daughter-in-law, Bezmialem and her grandson Abdulmejid also died of this disease.

Bezmialem Sultan, mother of Abdulmejid I. The woman of Georgian descent became Mahmud II's concubine in 1822. Bezmialem was raised by Mahmaud II’s half-sister, Sineperver’s daughter, Esma Sultan. Maybe that’s where her sophistication and intelligence comes from. In 1823, she gave birth to her only child, Abdulmejid. In 1839 Mahmud died and Abdulmejid became sultan. After her son's accession, Bezmialem ruled as Valide Sultan for 14 years. Abdulmejid was only 16 years old when he ascended the throne, so his mother helped him a lot in the early years. There was a very close link between mother and son, often corresponding with each other, letters never written by secretaries but by themselves, with their own hands. When the sultan left the capital, he always made his mother the head of the capital for the duration of his absence. Bezmialem was a dedicated philanthropist that the people loved immensely. She also made her construction projects known as well as her political influence. Bezmialem died of tuberculosis in 1853. Her son was shocked after hearing the news. After the death of his mother, the sultan spent an astonishing amount of money on the funeral.

Pertevniyal Sultan, mother of Abdulaziz. She gave birth to her only child, Abdulaziz in 1830 after becoming a concubine of Mahmud II. She was either Kurdish or Romanian descent. After Mahmud's death in 1839, Abdulaziz's brother Abdulmejid ascended the throne. Then in 1861 Abdulmejid also died and Abdulaziz followed. Pertevniyal was Valide Sultan for 15 years, during which time she gained amazing influence and wealth. She had unlimited power on her son, which she regularly used to influence the ruler. During her reign she repeatedly hosted influential guests in the harem. One such occasion almost ended in a diplomatic scandal as she slapped the French guest. However, in addition to her strong and sudden nature, she did a lot of charity and built. Pertevniyal's son was dethroned in 1876 and locked up in Topkapi Palace. A similar fate awaited Pertevniyal. Abdulaziz couldn't stand the confinement and cut his veins with scissors. The possibility of murder also arose, but all doctors who examined Abdulaziz's body ruled out this. Pertevniyal was shocked. The ascension of Abdul Hamid brought some relief for her as he loved Pertevniyal very much and he took care of the woman. For the rest of Pertevniyal's life, she retired and raised, taught children entrusted to her care. She died in 1884.

Şevkefza Sultan, mother of Murad V. She, a Georgian woman became Abdulmejid's concubine in 1839. In 1840 she gave birth to her son, Murad, who was soon followed by a little girl who died early. Şevkefza is a relatively gray character in history, having been Valide Sultan for only 3 months as her son was very quickly dethroned because of his mental condition. After Murad V's dethronement in 1876, Şevkefza wanted to put her son back on the throne in a coup, but Murad showed no interest. Şevkefsa finally died in 1889 from some kind of neck cancer.

Tirimüjgan Kadın, mother of Abdul Hamid II. She was a beautiful woman of Armenian descent who became a consort of Sultan Abdulmejid in 1839. Her son Abdul Hamid was born in 1842. Beside him, she had two other children, but they died early. Tirimüjgan was a woman with poor health, though she nevertheless tried to give everything to her son. She was finally died in 1852. She entrusted her son to Nergisnihal Hanım, one of her servants, who remained with Abdul Hamid for the rest of his life. In addition, Tirimüjgan was close to the Sultan's other concubine, Perestu, so that the Sultan eventually left Abdul Hamid to Perestu's care. Perestu had already raised another orphaned child, Cemile Sultan, as she had no children of her own. Cemile and Abdul Hamid eventually grew up in the same household. When Abdul Hamid became Sultan in 1876, he nominally gave Perestu the rank of Valide Sultan, making her the last great Valide of the empire. Abdul Hamid nicely asked Perestu not to interfere in politics, which she agreed happyly. Perestu's life was charity as she was a kind nature who was not a fan of politics anyway. She died in 1904 after 28 years of rule.

Gülcemal Kadın, mother of Mehmed V. She was a woman of Bosnian descent who had three children from Abdulmejid. She died of tuberculosis in 1851, and her children were raised by Servetseza Kadın. Mehmed ascended the throne in 1909, but Servetseza did not survive until that day because in 1878 she died.

Gülüstü Hanım, Mehmed VI's mother. Gülüstü came from an Abkhazian noble family and became the concubine of Sultan Abdulmejid in 1854, and in 1861 she gave birth to her second child, a son, Mehmed. Not much time was given to her and her children, having died out of cholera in 1865. Her little daughter was entrusted to the care of Verdicenan Kadın, and Mehmed was raised by Şayeste Hanım. Şayeste was also a descendant of an Abkhaz noble family, but she had a hard time coming out with Mehmed. Mehmed left his foster mother's mansion at the age of 16 with three if his faithful servants. Although the relationship between the two of them was not perfect, Mehmed later took care of Şayeste because he was grateful to her for raising him. Mehmed became sultan in 1918, while Şayeste died in 1912, so she never became Valide. However, judging by the relationship between the two of them, probably she would not have been a Valide even if she was still alive when Mehmed ascended the throne.

List of the Valides based on their tenure:

Turhan Hatice Sultan 34 years 11 months 2 days

Rahime Perestu Sultan 28 years 3 months 11 days

Kösem Sultan 24 years 10 months 29 days

Nilüfer Hatun 21 years

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş 20 years 9 months

Mihrişah Sultan 15 years 6 months 9 days

Pertevniyal Sultan 14 years 11 months 5 days

Bezmialem Sultan 13 years 10 months

Ayşe Hafsa Sultan 13 years 5 months 19 days

Gülbahar Hatun 11 years

Nakşidil Sultan 9 years 25 days

Saliha Sultan 9 years 1 day

Nurbanu Sultan 8 years 11 months 23 days

Safiye Sultan 8 years 11 months 7 days

Gülçiçek Hatun 3 years 1 month 4 days

Dilaşub 2 years 1 month 27 days

Hüma 2 years 1 month

Handan Sultan 1 year 10 months 18 days

Halime Sultan 1 year 6 months 26 days

Şehsuvar 1 year 4 months

Sineperver Sultan 1 year 1 month 29 days

Devlet Hatun 6 months 18 days

Şevkefza Sultan 3 months 1 say

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Valide rang a mindenkori szultán édesanyjának rangja volt. Azonban ez a logikusnak tűnő titulus is rengeteg változáson ment át a szultánátus évszázadai során. Ezen posztomban szeretném bemutatni ezt a változást és megismertetni az szultánok édesanyját I. Oszmántól az utolsó szultán VI. Mehmed édesanyjáig.

Valide Hatun

A korai évszázadokban a Valide Sultan titulus még nem létezett, helyette a Valide Hatun volt használatban. A Valide gyakorlatilag az édesanya megszólítása, a Hatun pedig az asszonyok tiszteletteljes megszólítása volt, gyakorlatilag olyasmi, mint az "Asszonyom". Így a Valide Hatunt már akkor Valide Hatunnak hívták gyakorta, mikor fia még nem volt szultán, csupán provincia irányítója. A Valide Hatun feladata már jóval azelőtt elkezdődött, hogy fia trónra lépett volna. Ekkoriban még csak egyszerű ágyasok voltak ezek a nők, akik a szultán háremében éltek. Ez idő alatt gyermekeik ellátása és nevelése volt az elsődleges felataduk, majd később egyetlen fiukat (nem lehetett több fiuk az egy ágyas - egy fiú törvény miatt) elkísérték annak kijelölt provinciájába. A provinciában a Valide Hatun feladata volt, hogy a fiatal herceg udvartartását kézben tartsa és elkezdje fia háremének kialakítását, az ágyasokat és unokákat fegyelmezze. Amennyiben voltak lánygyermekei a Valide Hatunnak, akkor ők is anyjukkal és öccsükkel tartottak a kijelölt provinciába.

A Valide Hatun egyébként pozíciójának csúcsán akkor volt, míg fia ifjú volt, így annak provinciájában viszonylagos szabadsággal foglalkozhatott mindenféle ügyekkel. Erre remek példa egy I. Szelim édesanyjáról, Ayşe Gülbahar Hatunról írt beszámoló. Ayşe Gülbahar hetente tartott audienciát Trabzonban, Szelim provinciális posztján, ahol mindenki hatalmas tisztelettel hallgatta szavait. Ahogy aztán Szelim egyre idősebb lett és egyre jobban beletanult az uralkodásba, anyja mind inkább háttérbe szorult. Ugyanígy volt ez természetesen az összes többi Valide Hatunnal is.

Mikor fiuk trónra lépett a Valide Hatun feladata lett, hogy a háremet irányítsa, rendben tartsa. Politikai befolyásuk nem volt, néhány kivételes esetet leszámítva. Természetesen feladataik mellett a Valide Hatunok rengeteget jótékonykodtak és amennyiben volt rá idejük, építkezési projekteket is létrehoztak. Gyakorlatilag a jótékonykodás és építkezés onnantól kezdve jogukban állt, hogy fiukat elkísérték provinciába. Emiatt van az, hogy a legtöbb majdani Valide Hatunnak fia egykori provinciájában van építkezése.

Természetesen ahogy az idő haladt a Valide Hatun feladatai is nehezedtek. Korábban az Oszmán Birodalom is kisebb volt, a főváros és a szultáni palota is szerényebb volt, így a háremet is relatíve könnyű volt rendben tartani. Konstantinápoly elfoglalása után azonban a hatalmas Régi Palota lett a szultán háremének otthona, ami egy valódi kis város volt a városban (bővebben itt olvashattok róla). Párhuzamosan a Régi Palotába költözéssel a Valide Hatun politikai befolyása is egyre növekedett. És szépen lassan a Valide hatalmának csúcsa is áthelyeződött. Többé már nem a provinciákban élhették meg a legbefolyásosabb időszakukat, hanem a fővárosban, fiuk uralma alatt.

A de facto and klasszikus Valide Hatunok listája, kiegészítve azokkal az anyákkal, akik nem érték meg fiuk uralmát:

Halime Hatun, I. Oszmán feltételezett édesanyja. Sok a róla keringő legenda, így néhányan azt állítják, hogy Szeldzsuk hercegnő volt, azonban nincs erre utaló bizonyíték. Valószínűbb, hogy egyszerű közember volt, vagy egy befolyásosabb család gyermeke. Az ekkori bégek, uralkodók ugyanis nem volt jellemző, hogy rabszolgákkal házasodtak volna vagy a klasszikus értelemben vett háremet tartottak volna. Nem tudunk semmit Halime életéről, arról, hogy hány gyermeke volt, mikor született, mikor halt meg... Még az sem bizonyos, hogy ő volt I. Oszmán édesanyja.

Malhun Hatun, I. Orhan édesanyja. I. Orhan volt az első klasszikus értelemben vett szultán, ám még ő is átmenetet képezett a valódi szultánátus és a korábbi törzsi rendszer között. Malhun Hatun egyesek szerint befolyásos törzsből származott, mások szerint egy sejk lánya volt. Akárhogy is, bizonyosan I. Oszmán hites felesége volt és ő adott életet a későbbi I. Orhannak. Őt tartják az Oszmán Birodalom és az Oszmán család anyjának. Születési ideje, gyermekeinek pontos száma nem ismert, ám azt tudjuk, hogy 1323-ban halt meg. Erre utal legalábbis, hogy fia 1324-ben építtetett tiszteletére komplexumot. Mivel ez a dátum egybe esik Orhan uralkodásának kezdetével, az sem zárható ki, hogy Malhun jóval előbb elhunyt. Lehetséges, hogy egyszerűen fiának - lévén nem volt még uralkodó - nem volt lehetősége adózni anyja emléke előtt. Így végül trónra lépése után tudott leghamarabb belefogni egy komplexum építésbe, hogy végre leróhassa tiszteletét. Akárhogy is, valószínűsíthető, hogy Malhun, fia uralmát nem, vagy alig érte meg. Ebben az értelemben pedig ő sem viselhette a Valide Hatun rangot.

Nilüfer Hatun, I. Murad édesanyja. Nilüfer volt az első, aki szinte minden kétséget kizáróan rabszolgasorból emelkedett a szultán anyjának rangjára. Mindemellett azt is tudjuk róla, hogy 1324 után lett Orhan ágyasa, ugyanis nem szerepel egy 1324-es jegyzékben, mely említi Orhan többi fő ágyasát (akik gyermeket szültek a szultánnak) vagy feleségét. Nilüfer gyermeke, Murad 1326-ban született, ám a nő első feltételezett említésére csupán 1331-ben került sor, mikoris egy bizonyos Ibn Battuta nevű utazót üdvözölt Orhan nevében Nikeában. Ez alapján és Murad születési éve alapján úgy kalkulálhatunk, hogy Nilüfer 1300 körül születhetett, de inkább utána. 1383-ban hunyt el, bőven megérve fia szultánná avanzsálását. Ezzel pedig ő lett az első Valide Hatun a birodalom történetében. 21 évig uralkodott, azonban nem tudunk sokat cselekedeteiről.

Gülçiçek Hatun, I. Bayezid édesanyja. A legendákkal ellentétben Gülçiçek rabszolga volt, talán görög származású. Nem tudni mikor vált I. Murad ágyasává, de fia a későbbi I. Bayezid 1360-ban született. Nem sokat tudunk Gülçiçek életéről, gyermekeinek pontos számáról. Az azonban bizonyos, hogy megérte fia uralkodását és ezen évek során építtetett egy mecsetet Bursa városában. Ezzel pedig ő lett az első Valide Hatun, aki mecsetet építtetett. Halálának ideje sem ismert, így az sem világos, hogy megérte e fia uralmának végét. I. Bayezidet ugyanis 1402-ben elkapta Timur Lenk és az ő fogságában hunyt el hamarosan. Gülçiçeket saját komplexumában helyezték örök nyugalomra Bursában.

Devlet Hatun, I. Mehmed édesanyja. Devlet szintén rabszolga származású asszony volt. Esetében ehhez kétség sem fér, hiszen bizonyítékok állnak rendelkezésre. Egy alapítványának irataiban úgy szerepel, mint Daulat bint-i Abd'Allah, ami annyit jelent, hogy egy nem muszlim és nem türk férfi lánya volt. Nem sokat tudunk életéről, ugyanis I. Bayezid életében jelen volt egy hites feleség, aki jóval ismertebb volt, így Devlet nem jutott igazán a reflektorfénybe. I. Bayezid elrablása majd halála után a birodalom interrgnum kormányzásban működött, tehát Bayezid fiai megosztva a birodalmat együtt uralkodtak. Ennek 1413-ban lett vége, mikor Devlet fia, Mehmed testvéreit legyőzbe egyeduralkodó lett. Devlet nem sokáig élvezhette azonban a Valide Hatun rangot, ugyanis 1414 januárjában halt meg és Bursában temették el, mindössze 1 év Valideség után.

Emine Hatun, II. Murad feltételezett édesanyja. II. Murad anyjának kiléte a mai napig vitatott. Származását tekintve Emine egy Dulkadir hercegnő volt, befolyásos család gyermeke. 1403-ban ment hivatalosan is feleségül Mehmed Çelebihez, mikor az Oszmán interregnum elkezdődött. Házasságuk tisztán politikai volt, ugyanis Mehmed így próbálta megszerezni - sikeresen - a Dulkadir család támogatását, akik végül kulcsfigurái lettek szultánná válásában. Emine mellett felmerül az is, hogy II. Murad anyja egy Şehzade nevű szintén nemesi származású család lánya volt. De az sem kizárt, hogy egy névtelen és jelentéktelen rabszolga volt Murad anyja. Nem tudjuk, hogy Emine mikor hunyt el.

Hüma Hatun, II. Mehmed édesanyja. Hüma körül is sok a legenda, egyesek szerint bizánci hercegnő volt, mások szerint egyszerű rabszolga, de a velencei és magyar származás is felmerül. A legvalószínűbb azonban, hogy Hüma egyszerű rabszolga volt, erre utal ugyanis neve és az, hogy egyik alapítványának irataiban "Hatun binti Abdullah" néven szerepel, ami a rabszolga eredetű ágyasok egyik megszokott megnevezése volt. Hüma életéről nagyon keveset tudunk, melyen az a tény sem segített, hogy fia II. Mehmed elutasította, hogy valaha is anyjáról beszéljen. Annyi bizonyos, hogy 1343-ban követte fiát, Mehmedet Amasyába, ahová a szultán nevezte ki Mehmedet mint helytartót. A következő évben II. Murad szultán depressziós lett és lemondott a trónról, így 1344-ben Mehmed vette át a feladatait. Ekkor Hüma Valide Hatun lett ugyan, de a fiatal szultán helyett elsősorban a nagyvezír uralkodott. Így pedig nem volt valódi hatalom Hüma kezében. 1346-ban aztán Murad szultán visszatért, és Mehmed rövid uralmának vége szakadt. Hüma a következő éveket Bursában töltötte, élete innentől pedig újra kérdőjelek halmaza. Egyesek szerint 1449-ben meghalt mielőtt Mehmed trónra léphetett volna 1451-ben, mások szerint anya és fia összekülönböztek, emiatt nem követte Hüma sosem fiát az időközben elfoglalt Konstantinápolyba és emiatt nem lett sohasem Valide Hatun felnőtt fia mellett.

Gülbahar Hatun, II. Bayezid édesanyja. Gülbahar esetében is fenn maradt egy alapítványi okirat, ami egyértelműsíti, hogy rabszolga származású nő volt. Esetében felmerül a görög vagy albán származás is. 1455/6-ban Bayezidet édesapja kinevezte Amasya kormányzójává, így Gülbahar és Bayezid oda utaztak és ott is maradtak 1581-ig, II. Mehmed haláláig. Ezidő alatt Gülbahar igen sokat tevékenykedett Amasyában. Hatalmas vagyonokat tartott kezében és elődeihez képest sokat foglalkozott a helyi politikával is. Gülbahar meglehetősen erőskezű nő volt, aki minden bizonnyal könnyedén megbírkózott a hatalmas Régi Palota irányításával fia 1581-es trónralépése után. Erős személyiségét jól mutatja egyik levele, melyben fiát - a már szultán Bayezidet - korholja, amiért az nem látogatja meg elég gyakran. Levelében így ír: "Mindenem, hiányzol. Ha én nem is hiányzom neked, te nagyon hiányzol nekem... Gyere, látogass meg, hadd lássalak. Drága uram, hamarosan hadjáratra mész, kérlek gyere előtte egyszer-kétszer, hogy lássam drága arcodat mielőtt elhagyod a várost. Már negyven napja nem láttalak. Drága szultánom, bocsásd meg nyersségem, de kim van nekem rajtad kívül...?" Gülbahar más leveleiből kitűnik az is, hogy gyakran adott tanácsot fiának politikai ügyekben is. Végül 1492-ben halt meg 11 évnyi uralkodás után és Isztambulban temették el. Gülbahar volt az első Valide Hatun, aki Isztambulban uralkodhatott és akinek jelentős befolyása volt fiára és a politikára is.

Ayşe Gülbahar, I. Szelim édesanyja. Ayşe Gülbahar egyik alapítványi okiratában "Hatun binti Abd-us-Samed" néven szerepel, ami tipikus említés volt a keresztény származású balkáni és anatóliai áttértek számára. Ez alapján valószínűsíthető, hogy Ayşe Gülbahar anatóliai vagy balkáni rabszolga volt, aki aztán II. Bayezid ágyasa lett. Ayşe Gülbaharról, ahogy fentebb is említettem feljegyezték, hogy hegyesen ívelt fekete szemöldöke volt, mélyen ülő fekete szemekkel, amelyeknek egyetlen pillantásával ölni tudott, ha valaki felbosszantotta. Minden bizonnyal tőle örökölte ezen tulajdonságát I. Szelim. Ayşe Gülbahar 1470-ben adott életet fiának, Szelimnek, akivel Bayezid háremében éltek egészen addig, míg Szelim nem lett Trabzon kormányzója. Trabzonban Ayşe Gülbahar nagy befolyással bírt, ám ahogy fia egyre jobban beletanult az uralkodásba, egyre inkább háttérbe szorult. Ayşe Gülbahar nem érte meg Szelim uralkodását, még Trabzonban meghalt feltehetőleg 1511 előtt valamikor. 1514-ben fia, Szelim Trabzonban építtetett egy komplexumot anyja emlékére és tiszteletére.

Valide Sultan

II. Bayezid uralkodása során - nem teljesen tisztázott, hogy mikor - létrehozta a Sultan (szultána) titulust, melyet lányai használhattak. A szultána rangnak köszönhetően családjának nő tagjai is jóval a többi Hatun (asszony) fölé emelkedtek. A titulust azonban Bayezid nem terjesztette ki saját édesanyjára, Gülbaharra. I. Szelim édesanyja, Ayşe Gülbahar pedig azelőtt elhunyt, mielőtt Szelim trónra lépett volna. Így végül I. Szulejmán volt az, aki kiterjesztette a szultána titulust édesanyjára is. Így nem csak nővérei, húgai és lányai viselhették a szultána rangot, de édesanyja, Ayşe Hafsa is. Ezzel Ayşe Hafsa lett az első Valide Sultan. A feladatkörökben ez a változás nem jelentett azonban semmit. A Valide Sultan feladata volt fia trónra lépése után a birodalmi hárem rendben tartása, a szultán családjára (ágyasai, gyermekei) való felügyelés. Amennyire változatlan maradt a feladatkör, annyira változott meg a megszólítás. Korábban a Valide Hatun az anyák tiszteletteljes megszólítása volt, így már a provinciákban is így szólították őket. A Valide Sultan viszont egyértelműen csak a szultán anyjának fenntartott megszólítás volt.

Hatalmas változást hozott III. Murad uralma a Valide Sultan rang számára. Addig ugyanis a Valide Sultan csupán egy tiszteletteljes megnevezése volt a szultán anyjának, nem volt hivatalos, bejegyzett titulus. Hivatalos, bejegyzett titulus alapján azt értem, mint amilyen például a Nagyvezír vagy a Fő eunuch volt. Ezek a tisztségek meghatározott feladatkörrel bírtak és nem csak megszólítások voltak, hanem valódi titulusok, tisztségek. III. Murad volt az, aki 1574-es trónralépésekor a Valide Sultan titulust egy bejegyzett, hivatalos ranggá tette. Ez hatalmas előrelépés volt a mindenkori Valide Sultan számára. Innentől szerepe hivatalossá vált, nem csupán a szultán anyja volt, hanem saját jogán Valide Sultan. Korábban a Validék leveleiket, alapítványi irataikat úgy jegyezték, mint a XY szultán anyja, innentől kezdve azonban XY Valide Sultanként írhatták alá.

A III. Murad által létrehozott változások gyakorlatilag a birodalom fennállásának végéig megmaradtak. Ugyanakkor a Valide Sultan idővel elveszítette azt a kiemelt befolyást, amit a 16. és 17. században képviselt. A 16. és 17. században ugyanis a Validék hatalma sosem látott szinteket ért el. Az alkalmatlan szultánok, a gyermek szultánok és a geopolitikai helyzet alakulása miatt többük volt de facto vagy klasszikus értelemben vett régens. Régensségük lejárta után, alapvető szerepük továbbra is fiuk háremének rendben tartása volt, ám emellett kiemelt figyelmet szenteltek a jótékonykodás és politika felé. A 16. és 17. században nem találni olyan Valide Sultant, akinek ne lett volna politikai szerepe.

A Valide Sultan rang viselőinek listája, kiegészítve azokkal az anyákkal, akik nem érték meg fiuk uralmát:

Ayşe Hafsa Sultan, I. Szulejmán édesanyja. Ayşe Hafsa I. Szelim ágyasa volt, aki legalább három gyermeknek adott életet. Korai éveiről nem tudunk sokat. Hafsa volt az első rabszolga, aki a szultána rangot viselhette, mikor fia, Szulejmán trónralépése után ezt engedélyezte neki. Ayşe Hafsa uralma meglehetősen hasonlított nagynevű elődjéhez, Gülbaharéhoz. Hafsa irányította Szulejmán háremét a Régi Palotában, egyensúlyt teremtett fia ágyasai között, odafigyelt unokái jólétére és rengeteget jótékonykodott. Hafsát mindenki szerette és tisztelte, ő volt az egyik legimádottabb Valide Sultana. Politikailag minimálisan volt aktív, megvoltak a saját emberei, és ha fia kikérte véleményét, igyekezett segíteni őt. Azonban Hafsa sosem akarta felülbírálni fiát, emiatt nem is foglalkozott a szükségesnél többet a politikával. 14 évig lehetett Valide Sultan fia mellett, és ő lett az első rabszolga eredetű személy, aki birodalmi temetést kapott 1534-es halála után. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Hürrem Sultan, II. Szelim édesanyja. Hürrem ruténiai származású nő volt, aki hat gyermeket szült a szultánnak, I. Szulejmánnak. Hürrem igazi formabontó szerepet töltött be, hiszen envéhez fűződik több korábbi szabály megszűnése (egy ágyas - egy fiú, szultánok házassága, ágyasok lakhelye) és új szerepkörök betöltése (Haseki Sultan rang, hárem vezetés, fiai egyedül provinciába küldése stb). Ugyanakkor Hürrem sosem érte meg, hogy fia II. Szelim 1566-ban trónra lépjen, mert 1558-ban elhunyt. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Nurbanu Sultan, III. Murad édesanyja. Nurbanu velencei származású rabszolgából lett ágyas volt, aki több gyermekkel ajándékozta meg II. Szelimet. Korai éveiről nem tudunk sokat, akkor került be a köztudatba, mikor 1566-ban II. Szelim trónra lépett. Nurbanu több szempontból véve is különleges nő: ő volt az első, aki egyszerre viselhette a Haseki Sultan rangot és lehetett hites felesége a szultánnak, majd férje halálával, fia tróra lépésével Valide Sultan is lett. Hogy anyja iránti tiszteletét megmutassa III. Murad valódi hivatalos titulust kreált a Valide Sultan rangból, így Nurbanu lett ennek első viselője. Élete során rengeteget jótékonykodott, építtetett és a politikára is hatalmas befolyása volt, fia mindenben kikérte véleményét. 1574-től haláláig, 1583-ig, tehát 9 évig volt Valide Sultan. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Safiye Sultan, III. Mehmed édesanyja. Albán származású ágyas volt, akit I. Szulejmán unokája, Hümaşah Sultan nevelt és taníttatott ki. Ő ajándékozta a lányt a későbbi III. Muradnak, akinek több gyermeket is szült. Safiye ifjú korában megjárta a mennyet és poklot, volt kiemelt státuszú Haseki Sultan és volt száműzött asszony is, majd hites feleség. Hatalmának csúcsát Valide Sultanként érte el, amikor gyakorlatilag fia, a meglehetősen alkalmatlan III. Mehmed helyett uralkodott. Egyáltalán nem volt népszerű Valide, több felkelés is történt személye ellen, mely felkelések során több kegyeltjét is kivégezték. Safiye volt az első Valide Sultan (sőt valószínűleg az első Valide), aki túlélte fiát. Ezzel pedig szokatlan helyzet állt elő, unokája I. Ahmed számára nem volt egyértelmű, mihez kezdjen nagyanyjával. Végül népszerűtlensége miatt Safiyét a Régi Palotába küldték, ami az elhalálozott szultánok családjának helyt adó palota lett eddigre. A korábban a birodalmat irányító, befolyásos Safiye nehezen viselte ezt és száműzetésként élte meg. Épp emiatt bosszúból teljesen megrongálta a szultán Topkapi Palotában található háremét, amivel végleg ellehetetlenítette saját visszatérését. Unokáját és még két szultán uralmát megtapasztalva, 1620 körül hunyt el. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Handan Sultan, I. Ahmed édesanyja. Handan bosnyák származású rabszolga volt, akit egy született szultána, II. Szelim leánya, Gevherhan Sultan nevelt és taníttatott. Handan fiatal korában nem érvényesülhetett, zsarnok anyósa, Safiye ugyanis elnyomta III. Mehmed összes ágyasát. Handan végül 1603-ban került a reflektorfénybe, mikoris III. Mehmed meghalt és örököse, Handan fia lépett trónra. Az ifjú szultán, Ahmed csupán 13 éves volt, így szükség volt régensekre is mellette. Ahmed szultánnak két régense volt, édesanyja Handan és tanítója. Handan nem hivatalosan kinevezett régens volt, ám gyakorlatilag hónapkig fia helyett uralkodott, meghallgatásokon vett részt, politikai tisztogatást szervezett (hogy megszabaduljon Safiye Sultan embereitől). Handan élete meglehetősen korán véget ért, 1605-ös halála miatt az egyik legrövidebb ideig uralkodó Valide Sultan lett, mindössze 2 évnyi uralkodással. Ugyanakkor nem felejthetjük el, hogy ő volt az első női régense a birodalomnak. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Halime Sultan, I. Musztafa édesanyja. Handannal ellentétben, Halime, aki szintén III. Mehmed ágyasa volt, nem tűrte Safiye Sultan zsarnokoskodását és igyekezett felvenni a harcot az anyóssal. Ambícióit fia, Mahmud herceg is osztotta, aki többször beszélt nyíltan nagyanyja és apja, a szultán ellen. Safiye és Halime harca 1603 nyarán zárult le, mikor a szultán, Safiye nyomására kivégeztette Mahmud hereceget. Az összetört Halime életét megkímélték, ám hamarosan elszakították tőle másik fiát, Musztafát, akit évekig alig láthatott. Musztafa komoly mentális problémákkal küzdött, ezért is volt meglepő, mikor I. Ahmed halála után végül őt választották örökösnek. Ahmed volt az első szultán, aki trónralépésekor nem végeztette ki fiú testvéreit, ez pedig az öröklésirend megváltozásához vezetett. Innentől nem a fia követte a szultánt a trónon, hanem a legidősebb élő herceg. Musztafa tragikus mentális állapota miatt Halime uralkodott fia helyett, első hivatalos régensként. A politikailag instabil időkben Musztafát trónfosztották, ám hamarosan újra szultánná kiáltották ki. Ezzel pedig Halime lett az első Valide Sultan, aki ugyanazon fia mellett kétszer is Valide Sultan lehetett. Musztafa második trónfosztása után egymástól elzárva élt tovább anya és fia hosszú évekig. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Mahfiruz Hatun, II. Oszmán édesanyja. Mahfiruz I. Ahmed ágyasa volt, aki bár a legidősebb fiú anyja volt, nem ő volt Ahmed kedvenc ágyasa. Mahfiruz személyéről, tetteiről meglehetősen keveset tudunk korai halála miatt. Nem érte meg fia, II. Oszmán 1618-as trónralépését, így sohasem lehetett Valide Sultan. Erre utal neve is, hiszen Mahfiruz Hatunként temették el, nem pedig Mahfiruz Sultanként. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Kösem Sultan, IV. Murad és I. Ibrahim szultánok édesanyja. A görög származású Kösem meglehetősen ingatag politikai és geopolitikai helyzetben találta magát, mikor kedvese I. Ahmed elhunyt. Az örökösödési káosz során elvesztette legidősebb fiát, akit II. Oszmán végeztetett ki. Hamarosan Oszmán is hasonló sorsra jutott, miután fellázadt janicsárok brutáisan meggyilkolták. A kaotikus időszaknak 1623-ban szakadt vége, mikor Kösem fiát IV. Muradot tették meg szultánnak, mindössze 11 évesen. Kösem régensként uralkodott fia helyett hosszú évekig, majd mikor fia elég idős lett az uralkodáshoz, visszavonult. Kösem rengeteget jótékonykodott Valide Sultansága alatt és igyekezett politikai tanácsadója lenni fiának. Muradot - nem lévén élő fia - öccse Ibrahim követte a trónon, aki szintén Kösem fia volt. Ibrahim mentálisan beteg volt, hasonlóan nagybátyjához, így helyette Kösem uralkodott nem hivatalos régensként. Két fia mellett Kösem gyakorlatilag 1623-tól 1648-ig, tehát 25 évig volt Valide Sultan. Végül Ibrahimot trónfosztották és helyébe gyermekét, IV. Mehmedet ültették. A pasák a tapasztalt Kösem Sultant kérték fel, hogy tanítsa be az ifjú szultánt és annak édesanyját Turhan Haticét az uralkodásra. Amíg pedig ez megtörténik, Kösem újra régensi pozícióban találta magát. Ez azonban más volt, mint a korábbi régensségei, meglehetősen megváltozott a szultána és erőszakosan kezdett uralkodni, melynek 1651-es kivégzése vetett véget. Ő volt az első és egyetlen Valide Sultan akit kivégeztek. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Turhan Hatice Sultan, IV. Mehmed édesanyja. Az orosz származású Turhannak meglehetősen nehéz ifjú kora volt a mentálisan beteg I. Ibrahim ágyasaként. A nehéz időszaknak végül 1651-ben szakadt vége, mikor Turhan lett a hivatalos régens fia mellett. Ezt a feladatot csupán néhány évig látta el, majd átadta a hatalmat a fővezírnek. Turhan élete során végig politikailag igen aktív volt, fia rendszeresen kérte ki anyja véleményét, sokszor pedig Turhan maga döntött, lévén fia nem kedvelte az uralkodást. Turhan élete során minden erejével védte nevelt fiait is, akiket IV. Mehmed ki akart végeztetni uralkodásának egy pontján. Turhan Hatice rengeteget jótékonykodó, igazán tisztelt és szeretett Valide Sultan volt, aki monumentális építkezéseket is eszközölt hosszú uralma alatt. Ő volt a leghosszabb ideig uralkodó Valide is, hiszen 32 évig volt hivatalban. 1683-ban bekövetkezett halálakor az egész birodalom gyászba borult és úgy vélte a nép, hogy a birodalom elveszítette utolsó erős és stabil oszlopát. Sajnos igazuk volt, Turhan fiát hamarosan trónfosztották, mert anyja tanácsai nélkül képtelen volt megfelelően uralkodni. Turhan Hatice hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Saliha Dilşub Sultan, II. Szulejmán édesanyja. Saliha Dilaşub hasonlóan Turhanhoz és I. Ibrahim más ágyasaihoz meglehetősen zavaros időket élt meg fiatal korában. Valószínűsíthető, hogy Kösem Sultan egy puccs során őt és fiát szerette volna felhasználni IV. Mehmed és Turhan Hatice ellen 1651-ben. A puccs nem járt sikerrel, Kösem Sultanát kivégeztették, IV. Mehmed és anyja azonban megbocsájtottak Salihának és fiának, Szulejmánnak is. Sőt, Turhan egész életében védelmezte Saliha fiát is. Saliha Dilaşub majd negyven éven keresztül élt a Régi Palotában, fiától elszakítva IV. Mehmed uralkodása során. Végül Mehmed trónfosztása után 1687-ben Saliha elhagyhatta a Régi Palotát, hogy végre fia oldalán Valide Sultan lehessen. Sajnos azonban nem sokáig élvezhette ezt, hiszen nem sokkal később, mindössze 2,5 év uralkodás után elhunyt. Validesége így viszonylag szürke maradt, és bár jótékonykodása ismert, politikailag nem volt ideje aktivizálódni. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Hatice Muazzez Sultan, II. Ahmed édesanyja. Saliha Dilaşubbal és Turhannal együtt Muazzez is I. Ibrahim ágyasa volt és meglehetősen hányatott ifjúkor jutott neki. Helyzete később sem változott, hiszen végig a Régi Palotában töltötte IV. Mehmed uralkodását, alig találkozva fiával, Ahmeddel. Muazzez életéről nagyon keveset tudunk, feltételezhető, hogy Ahmed mellett volt egy lánya is. 1687 szemptemberében hatalmas tűzvész pusztított a Régi Palotában és Muazzez attól rettegve, hogy elevenen elég, szívrohamot kapott és néhány nappal később elhunyt. Alig két hónappal halála után a vele együtt "raboskodó" Saliha Dilaşub elhagyhatta a Régi Palotát, hiszen fia II. Szulejmán lett a szultán. Muazzez fia 1691-ben követte Szulejmánt, II. Ahmed néven. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş Sultan, II. Musztafa és III. Ahmed szultánok édesanyja. Görög származású nő volt, aki rabszolgából lett a Nők szultánátusának utolsó befolyásos asszonya. Élete során volt Haseki és Valide is, a kor két legfontosabb rangját viselte és a legjobbaktól tanult. Ifjúkorában, IV. Mehmed kedvenceként is hatalmas befolyással bírt és politikailag is igen aktív volt. Mikor kedvesét trónfosztották Emetullah a Régi Palotába kényszerült, melyet csak 1694-ben hagyhatott el, mikor Valide Sultan Emetullahból fia II. Musztafa oldalán. Korábbi befolyását még magasabb szintekre emelte, elképesztő befolyással bírt a politikai életre és fiára, amely felkeltette a pasák rosszallását is. Végül fiát trónfosztották 1703-ban, majd hamarosan természetes okokból el is halálozott Musztafa. Emetullah meggyászolta fiát, majd tanulva hibáiból, másik fia, III. Ahmed uralkodása során végig a háttérben maradt és a pasákkal szorosan együttműködött. Rengeteg jótékonyság, építkezés köthető nevéhez. Két fia mellett összesen 20 évig lehetett Valide Sultan. Hosszabb életrajza itt érhető el: link.

Saliha Sultan, I. Mahmud édesanyja. Szerb származású nő volt, akinek II. Musztafa szultán ágyasaként nem volt kiemelt befolyása ám lehetősége volt rengeteget tanulni anyósától, Emetullah Rabia GÜlnüştől. 1696-ban adott életet fiának, majd nemsokkal később, 1703-ban Musztafa trónfosztásával a Régi Palotába költöztették. Itt azonban nem fogadta el háttérbe szorulását, folyamatosan kapcsolatokat épített. 1730-ban végül újra fellélegezhetett, ugyanis fia, I. Mahmud trónra lépett. Fia mellett 9 évig volt Valide Sultan és hasonlóan nagynevű elődjéhez, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşhöz elképesztő hatalomra tett szert. Mindenki az ő kegyeibe próbált férkőzni, hogy önmaga előrejutását biztosítani tudja. Igyekeztek ajándékokkal lekenyerezni a befolyásos Validét. Uralkodása során több kisebb építkezési projektbe belekezdett, így Isztambulban több általa építtetett kút is fellelhető. Egyik ilyen, az Azapkapı Saliha Sultan Kút Isztambul legszebb vízi építészeti emléke.

Şehsuvar Sultan, III. Oszmán édesanyja. II. Musztafa ágyasa volt, akinek még annyi rivaldafény sem jutott, mint Salihának, ugyanis elő gyermeke 1699-ben született, majd 1703-ban már a Régi Palotában találta magát II. Musztafa trónfosztása után. Hasonlóan Salihához, Şehsuvar sem nevelhette tovább fiát, hiszen a hercegeket a Topkapi Palotába vitték. Végül 1754-ben újra fia oldalán találhatta magát, mikor az III. Oszmán néven a birodalom új szultánja lett. Oszmán, aki évtizedek óta alig találkozhatott anyjával elutasította, hogy azonnal megtartsák a szultánná avatási ceremóniát, ugyanis három napig csak az édesanyjával kívánt időt tölteni. Şehsuvar uralkodása elég rövid volt, ugyanis csupán 1,5 évig lehetett Valide Sultan, mert 1756-ban elhunyt. Ezidő alatt sem politikai sem jótékonysági vagy építkezési projekt nem történt. Néhány politikai ügyben azonban sejthető a szerepe, így nem tekinthető politikailag teljesen inaktívnak.

Mihrişah Kadın, III. Musztafa édesanyja. III. Ahmed ágyasa volt, aki három fiút is szült a szultánnak meglehetősen nagy korkülönbségekkel (1710, 1717, 1728). III. Ahmed trónfosztása után 1730-ban a Régi Palotába költöztették Mihrişaht, ahol két évvel később, 25 évvel fia trónra lépése előtt meghalt. Élete során néhány kisebb építkezési projektje volt még úgy is, hogy sosem lehetett Valide Sultan.

Rabia Şermi Kadın, I. Abdul Hamid édesanyja. Şermi is III. Ahmed ágyasa volt, akinek egyetlen gyermeket szült, 1725-ben, Abdul Hamidot. Şermi több mint 40 évvel fia trónralépése előtt halt meg, 1732-ben. Rövid élete során nem tudott mély nyomot hagyni a történelemben, egyetlen kutat építtetett. Fia később az ő tiszteletére nevezte el egyik gyermekét, Rabiának, ám a kislány nemsokkal születése után meghalt.

Mihrişah Sultan, III. Szelim édesanyja. Mihrişah III. Musztafa ágyasa volt. Érdekes egybeesés, hogy Musztafa édesanyját is Mihrişahnak hívták. A szépséges grúz rabszolga 1757-ben lett Musztafa ágyasa. Három gyermeke született, ám közülük egyedül Szelim élte meg a felnőttkort, két lánya csecsemőként elhunyt. Fiatalkoráról nem sokat tudunk, de minden bizonnyal már ekkor is nagy vagyonnal bírt, ugyanis fenn maradt dokumentumok alapján maga a szultán is tartozott neki. Párja 1774-es hirtelen halála után a Régi Palotába száműzték, ahonnan csak 15 évvel később térhetett vissza, mikor fia, Szelim trónra lépett. Mihrişah 16 évig volt Valide Sultan fia, Szelim mellett. Ezen évek során erőteljesen támogatta fia innovációit. Az ő nevéhez köthető a Topkapi Palota háremének felújítása, de több építési projektje is volt. Mihrişah és fia igen közel álltak egymáshoz, mindent megvitattak és egyesek szerint Szelim minden egyes reggel meglátogatta édesanyját. Ettől függetlenül Mihrişah nem használta ki befolyását, nem avatkozott politikába, inkább vallással és jótékonykodással töltötte idejét. 1805-ben hunyt el.

Sineperver Sultan, IV. Musztafa édesanyja. 1774-ben lett Abdul Hamid ágyasa, majd 1779-ben adott életet fiának. Eddigre Sineperver eltemette már egy fiát. A tragikus emlék miatt Musztafa születése után imákat kért fia egészségéért és minden adósság miatt börtönben ülőnek kifizette adósságát, hogy szabadon bocsáttassanak. Imái meghallgatásra leltek, Musztafa megérte a felnőttkort, akárcsak Sineperver lánya, Esma Sultan. Másik lánya, Fatma viszont első gyermeke, Ahmed sorsára jutott és gyermekként elhunyt. 1789-ben Abdul Hamid meghalt, Sineperver pedig a Régi Palotába költözött. Innen 1807-ben távozhatott, mikor fia, IV. Musztafa szultán lett. Sajnálatos módon Musztafa uralma meglehetősen rövid volt, alig 1 évig ült a trónon, majd trónfosztották és hamarosan kivégezték. Sineperver hátralévő éveit egyetlen élő gyermekének, Esma Sultannak szentelte. 1828-ban halt meg.

Nakşidil Sultan, II. Mahmud édesanyja. Sokáig tartotta magát a teória, hogy Napóleon feleségének Josephinnek távoli rokona, mára azonban bebizonyosodott, hogy grúz származású rabszolga volt. Abdul Hamid ágyasaként 1785-ben adott életet fiának Mahmudnak, ám nem sokáig élvezhette a szultán ágyasaként őt megillető figyelmet. Abdul Hamid 1789-ben elhunyt, Nakşidil pedig a Régi Palotába költözött. 1808-ban mostoha fia, IV. Musztafa lépett trónra, aki elődjét III. Szelimet meggyilkoltatta és merénylőket küldött Nakşidil fia, Mahmud ellen is. Nakşidil elrejtette fiát, így túlélte és puccsal hamarosan szultán lett belőle. Mahmud trónra lépése után azonnal kivégeztette féltestvérét, IV. Musztafát. Nakşidil fia trónralépésével hatalmas ceremónia során költözött vissza a Topkapi Palotába. Ő volt az utolsó Valide, aki a szokásoknak megfelelően így utazott a Régi Palotából a Topkapiba. Ennek egyik oka az volt, hogy pont az ő javaslatára a Topkapi helyett más birodalmi palotákat kezdett előnyben részesíteni a dinasztia. Mahmud uralkodásának korai éveiben rendszeresen konzultált édesanyjával. A Valide Sultan sokat jótékonykodott és voltak kisebb nagyobb építkezési projektjei is. Nakşidil 9 évig lehetett Valide Sultan, mivel 1817-ben tuberkolózisban meghalt. Fia, Mahmud, menye Bezmialem és unokája, Abdulmejid is ebben a betegségben haltak meg.

Bezmialem Sultan, I. Abdulmejid édesanyja. A grúz származású nő, 1822-ben lett II. Mahmud ágyasa. Bezmialemet II. Mahmud féltestvére, Sineperver lánya, Esma Sultan nevelte fel. Talán innen ered kifinomultsága és intelligenciája. 1823-ban adott életet egyetlen gyermekénetk, Abdulmejidnek. 1839-ben II. Mahmud meghalt és Abdulmejid lett a szultán. Fia trónra lépése után Bezmialem 14 évig uralkodott Valide Sultanként. Abdulmejid csupán 16 éves volt, amikor trónra lépett, így anyja igen sokat segítette a korai években. Igen szoros volt a kapocs anya és fia között, gyakran leveleztek egymással, mely leveleket sosem titkárok írták helyettük, hanem önmaguk, saját kezükkel. Amikor a szultán elhagyta a fővárost, mindig anyját tette meg a főváros fejévé távolléte idejére. Bezmialem elhivatott jótékonykodó volt, amiért a nép mérhetetlenül szerette. Emellett építkezési projektjei is ismertté tették, valamint politikai befolyása. Bezmialem tuberkolózisban halt meg 1853-ban, fia pedig összeomlott a hírtől. Anyja halála után a szultán elképesztő mennyiségű pénzt költött a temetésre.

Pertevniyal Sultan, Abdulaziz édesanyja. II. Mahmud kurd vagy román származású ágyasa egyetlen gyermekének, Abdulaziznak 1830-ban adott életet. II. Mahmud 1839-es halála után Abdulaziz bátyja, Abdulmejid lépett trónra. 1861-ben aztán Abdulmejid is elhunyt és Abdulaziz következett. Pertevniyal 15 évig volt Valide Sultan, mely idő alatt elképesztő befolyásra és vagyonra tett szert. Fián korlátlan hatalma volt, melyet ki is használt, rendszeresen befolyásolva az uralkodót. Uralma során többször látott vendégül befolyásos vendégeket a háremben. Az egyik ilyen alkalomnak majdnem diplomáciai botrány lett a vége, mert felpofozta a francia vendéget. Lobbanékony természete mellett azonban rengeteget jótékonykodott és építkezett. Pertevniyal fiát 1876-ban trónfosztották és elzárták a Topkapi Palotában. Hasonló sors várt Pertevniyalra is. Abdulaziz nem bírta elviselni a bezártságot és egy ollóval felvágta ereit. Felmerült a gyilkosság lehetősége is, de az Abdulaziz testét megvizsgáló összes orvos kizárta ezt. Pertevniyal összetört. Egy kis enyhülést hozott számára II. Abdul Hamid trónralépése, aki nagyon szerette Pertevniyalt, így gondoskodott az asszonyról. Pertevniyal élete hátralévő részében a gondjaira bízott gyermekeket nevelt, tanított és visszavonultan élt. 1884-ben halt meg.

Şevkefza Sultan, V. Murad édesanyja. A grúz nő 1839-ben lett Abdulmejid ágyasa. 1840-ben adott életet fiának, Muradnak, akit hamarosan egy kislány követett, aki korán elhunyt. Şevkefza viszonylag szürke szereplője a történelemnek, mindössze 3 hónapig volt Valide Sultan, mivel fiát igen gyorsan trónfosztották mentális állapota miatt. V. Murad 1876-os trónfosztása után Şevkefza szerette volna fiát puccsal visszaültetni a trónra, de Murad nem mutatott érdeklődést. Şevkefsa végül 1889-ben hunyt el valamilyen nyaki daganat következtében.

Tirimüjgan Kadın, II. Abdul Hamid édesanyja. Örmény származású, gyönyörű nő volt, aki 1839-ben lett Abdulmejid szultán kegyeltje. Fia Abdul Hamid 1842-ben született meg, két másik gyermekét pedig korán elvesztette. Tirimüjgan beteges nő volt, aki ettől függetlenül igyekezett mindent megadni fiának. Végül a halál 1852-ben elragadta. Fiát Nergisnihal Hanımra, egyik szolgálójára bízta, aki élete végéig Abdul Hamid mellett maradt. Emellett Tirimüjgan közel állt a szultán egy másik ágyasához, Perestuhoz, így végül a szultán Abdul Hamidot Perestu gondjaira bízta. Perestu akkor már nevelt egy másik elárvult gyermeket, Cemile Sultant, lévén neki magának nem volt saját gyermeke. Cemile és Abdul Hamid végül egy háztartásban nőttek fel. Mikor Abdul Hamid 1876-ban szultán lett névlegesen Perestunak adta a Valide Sultan rangot, amivel ő lett az utolsó nagy Validéje a birodalomnak. Abdul Hamid nyomatékosan megkérte Perestut, hogy ne avatkozzon politikába, amit az asszony szívesen teljesített is. Perestu élete a jótékonykodás volt, kedves természet volt, aki nem rajongott egyébként sem a politikáért. 1904-ben halt meg 28 évnyi uralkodás után.

Gülcemal Kadın, V. Mehmed édesanyja. Bosnyák, nemesi származású asszony volt, aki három gyermeket szült az uralkodónak, Abdulmejidnek. 1851-ben tuberkolózisban halt meg, gyermekeit Servetseza Kadın nevelte fel. Mehmed 1909-ben került trónra, Servetseza azonban nem érte meg ezt a napot, mert 1878-ban ő is meghalt.

Gülüstü Hanım, VI. Mehmed édesanyja. Gülüstü abkház nemesi családtól származott és 1854-ben lett Abdulmejid szultán ágyasa, majd 1861-ben életet adott második gyermekének, egy fiúnak, Mehmednek. Nem sok közös idő adatott meg neki és gyermekeinek, lévén 1865-ben kolerában meghalt. Kislányát Verdicenan Kadın gondjaira bízták, Mehmedet pedig Şayeste Hanım nevelte fel. Şayeste is abkház nemesi család sarja volt, azonban nehezen jött ki Mehmeddel. Mehmed 16 éves korában elhagyta nevelőanyja lakását három hű szolgálójával. Bár kettejük kapcsolata nem volt felhőtlen, Mehmed később is gondoskodott Şayestéről, mert hálás volt neki, amiért felnevelte. Mehmed 1918-ban lett szultán, míg Şayeste 1912-ben halt meg, így sosem lett Valide. Azonban kettejük viszonyából következtetve valószínűleg akkor sem lett volna Valide, ha még életben van Mehmed trónra lépésekor.

A Validék listája, uralkodásuk ideje alapján:

Turhan Hatice Sultan 34 év 11 hónap 2 nap

Rahime Perestu Sultan 28 év 3 hónap 11 nap

Kösem Sultan 24 év 10 hónap 29 nap

Nilüfer Hatun 21 év

Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş 20 év 9 hónap

Mihrişah Sultan 15 év 6 hónap 9 nap

Pertevniyal Sultan 14 év 11 hónap 5 nap

Bezmialem Sultan 13 év 10 hónap

Ayşe Hafsa Sultan 13 év 5 hónap 19 nap

Gülbahar Hatun 11 év

Nakşidil Sultan 9 év 25 nap

Saliha Sultan 9 év 1 nap

Nurbanu Sultan 8 év 11 hónap 23 nap

Safiye Sultan 8 év 11 hónap 7 nap

Gülçiçek Hatun 3 év 1 hónap 4 nap

Dilaşub 2 év 1 hónap 27 nap

Hüma 2 év 1 hónap

Handan Sultan 1 év 10 hónap 18 nap

Halime Sultan 1 év 6 hónap 26 nap

Şehsuvar 1 év 4 hónap

Sineperver Sultan 1 év 1 hónap 29 nap

Devlet Hatun 6 hónap 18 nap

Şevkefza Sultan 3 hónap 1 nap

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justmypartner · 3 years ago

Text

Still Breathing: Chapter 6

Summary: AU | When a case goes sideways, Hailey wakes up in the hospital with a revelation that leaves her evaluating her life. While she recovers at Med, she meets Jay, an aloof, yet intriguing patient that catches her by surprise. The two get to know one another as they take on the task of rediscovering what it’s like to truly live, and eventually learn their lives intersect in more ways than one.

Writer’s Note: Hi!! Oh man am I excited about this chapter. It’s sweet and flirty, but also pretty angsty, so you’re welcome and I’m sorry? I’ve hit a good spot with writing this story, so I will probably be posting more often. I still can’t promise weekly updates, but I will do my best. Thank you so much for the kind words on this story. It truly means a lot. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3 or below

“Hailey?”

“Hello?”

It wasn’t until a coffee cup was being raised in front of her face that she pulled out of her absent stare.

“Sorry,” she shook her head, blinking her eyes back into focus. “Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile as she reached out to grab the cup.

Everything had been a blur since that last dance with Jay the night before. When the song ended and she finally worked up the nerve to pull away from him, she desperately tried to swallow down her emotions with the rest of the bottle of wine. Not long after, when she couldn’t get her mind to shut off, she told him she was beat and asked him to drive her home.

She then spent the rest of the night stuck in that moment in his arms, debating whether or not she was falling in love with him, or the moment. Then, every time she closed her eyes she saw his beautiful emerald eyes and his infectious smile and she knew the question was rhetorical.

She woke the next morning with a text from him asking to meet at what had become their coffee shop. She had the weekend off. She knew he knew that, so she had no real excuse to blow him off. So, she compartmentalized everything that happened the night before and agreed to meet him there.

“You okay? You seem off this morning,” he posited, taking a sip as he eyed her from the opposite end of the table.

There he was reading her like a book, the way only he seemed to be able to do.

“Yeah, no matter how much red wine I have, I always feel it the next morning,” she lied, taking a large swig of her coffee as he nodded, eyeing her carefully as she did so.

“Sorry,” he offered, the slight pout on his face expressing his empathy.

“Thanks,” she replied quietly.

“So, I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to run something by you.”

“Okay…” she said, a resistance in her voice.

“How would you feel about sneaking into a college party with me tonight?”

“Why on Earth would we do that?” she breathed out a laugh with the question.

“I’ve never been. It’s on my list.”

“You’ve never been to a college party before?”

“Nope. I enlisted right out of high school, then my active duty filled the education requirement for the academy. Never even stepped foot on a college campus until I was a cop and needed to for a case,” he said with a shrug.

“You’re not missing much. I only went to maybe one party in my undergrad years, wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Yeah well, my brother spent all of his college years partying. Figured I ought to see what the hype was all about. I was waiting for fall to come around so I could blend in with of all the incoming students, but I only want to go if you agree to come with me.”

“Fine, but only because it’s on your list… You’re going to have to do something about this look though,” she said, waving a hand in front of her as she gestured to his outfit.

“My look? What about you? You’re the one who dresses like a cop.”

She scoffed, taking one of the sugar packets on the table and flinging it in his direction. He flinched, a sneaky grin on his face as he laughed at his own joke.

“I can still wear my hat, right?” he asked once the laughter died down, a serious look overcoming his face.

“Yeah. I actually think I still have a U of C one you can borrow.”

“Cool.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a hat.”

“You don’t want to. The chemo has thinned my hair out so much. I just haven’t had the courage to shave it all off yet.”

A sad look overcame her face, and she quickly adjusted it when she noticed his eyes dart away timidly.

“Actually, I have been wondering since we met, are you a brunette or a red head?” she questioned, trying to divert the mood.

“Oh, that’s a surprise.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his now intentional pattern of aloofness.

“One day, I’m going to be the one to surprise you.”

He gave her a disbelieving nod as he brought his cup to his mouth, concealing the smile she knew was breaking out across his lips.

— — — —

Later that evening when she had just finished clasping the back of her last earring, there was a knock at the door. She made her way downstairs, hurrying to answer it.

Jay stood on her doorstep in a maroon button up, dark jeans, and his usual ball cap. In the time she’d known him, it was always t-shirts and henleys, so to see him more dressed up had her heart racing in an entirely new way.

As distracted as she was by his appearance, it didn’t stop her from noticing the way his eyes trailed up and down her body. She wore black jeans, black leather boots, and a silky blue tank that cut a little low. It certainly wasn’t her typical attire, but she knew it was basic enough of a look to blend in with every other college girl at whatever party they wound up at.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his mouth falling slightly agape as he seemed to force his eyes to train on hers.

“Wow yourself,” she told him, stepping aside so that he could come in.

Once the door was closed, they stood before one another in her foyer, both still silently gawking at one another for a minute longer.

“So, what do you think? Do I look like I should be at a college party?” he asked after clearing his throat, holding his arms out as he sought her approval.

She pursed her lips to the side as she eyed him up and down, taking a little more time to do so since he had granted her his permission.

“I don’t know I feel like it just needs-“

Her eyes fell to the top of his shirt where the top button was secured. She stepped forward, her hands moving to unbutton it and expose a little more of his chest. Her breath became shallow with the proximity. She pulled the collar out a little more once the button was popped. Doing so exposed a gold chain she’d never noticed before, one with a small medallion attached that rested in the contour of his chest. She noticed the way his jaw tightened as her fingers brushed his skin when she picked it up to inspect it further. She rubbed a thumb over it in her hand, an inquisitive look on her face as she did so.

“Do you always wear this? I’ve never noticed it before.”

“It’s my brother’s. He gave it to me a few weeks ago. It’s St. Luke, the patron saint of doctors and surgeons. My mom gave it to him when he first told her he wanted to be a doctor. He thinks it’ll somehow help me, I’m not so convinced, but it reminds me of her so I wear it,” he explained, only his mouth moving as she still inspected the small medallion in her hand. She smiled, releasing it as she took a step back, folding her arms over her chest.

“You know, the more I learn about your brother, the more I think I might like him more than you,” she told him smugly.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he spat, squinting his eyes at her jokingly.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me go get your hat.”

She momentarily disappeared upstairs, pulling the hat from her closet before descending the stairs once more.

“Here,” she told him. He grabbed it, holding it in his hand as he peered over at her with a look of patience.

“Right, um let me get my things and we can head out,” she said, turning around to grant him the moment he was silently asking for. When she came back, his hat was swapped out and he wore a shy look on his face.

“Thanks,” he told her, and she knew it wasn’t just gratitude for the hat.

— — — —

Even a block down the street from the house they could hear the music and voices of a hundred or so college kids. It was enough to send shudders down Hailey’s spine, a reminder of why her first college party was also her last.

“You sure you wanna do this? Can’t we just go get plastered at a bar and call it a night,” she offered, looking up at him in the dim light of the street.

The look he sent her was one of both amusement and certainty, and she knew his decision on the night’s plans was unwavering.

“Fine, but you’re my designated driver. The only way I’m getting through this is with booze running through my veins,” she sang.

“I didn’t plan on drinking anyway.”

The comment was enough to stop her in her tracks. She sent him a look, silently questioning the statement as a smirk grew on his face.

“I mean I’m going to have a beer or something, but I’m not supposed to get hammered or anything. I’ve already got enough chemicals in my body trying to kill me.”

She nodded, and they continued their slow pace towards the house. Another reminder of what seemed like many lately that he was living on numbered days. She just wasn’t sure what that number was. Her face fell, and she focused her attention on each step she was taking, trying to pull herself out of the instant sullen mood she’d fallen into.

“Alcoholic,” he mumbled under his breath, causing her to kick at him playfully with the tease. It was just what she needed to smile again, but not quite enough to keep that reminder from plaguing her thoughts.

Once inside, they were met with the overwhelming smell of beer, musk, and weed.

“How many of these kids do you think are underage?” he whisper yelled into her ear as they brushed through the crowd blocking the entrance.

“All of them,” she returned, shaking her head at the thought of a time when she was one of the many carefree kids they were surrounded by.

They found the drink table. Jay went for a can of cheap beer and Hailey poured herself a couple of shots of tequila. The smitten look and prideful smile he gave as he watched her down the first two were enough to make her do a third. It was going to be a long night with him looking the way he did, let alone with him looking at her like that. She knew she needed to be loosened up to get through it.

By her fourth shot she was in the middle of a crowd of people, her hips doing most of the work as she danced to whatever song was playing through the speakers. Jay opted out, claiming he was much more a slow dancer than a party dancer.

She’d been alone for a while, a couple of young guys dancing alongside her before getting the cold shoulder and moving on. Even when the guys approached, it didn’t stop Jay’s eyes from keeping a determined stare. She pretended she didn’t notice, but he kept a watchful eye as she swayed to the rhythm of the absurdly loud music.

About an hour had passed. Hailey watched as Jay broke his stare, moving to play a few rounds of beer pong. She laughed when she watched him swap his beer for soda water when the other guys weren’t looking. Not that it mattered considering how good he was at the game. Hailey had kept her eye on him every so often as she danced with various groups of soured sorority girls.

Eventually, the strands of hair by her face were stuck on with sweat, and she had lost sight of Jay for about 15 minutes. When she finally found him again, he was leaned against a wall, some young college girl standing only inches away from him, hung on his every word.

She blamed it on the booze, but it sent a heat rising in her. She couldn’t blame the girl, he looked damn good, but she couldn’t help but envy how oblivious the girl was to what it meant to be close to him.

She watched from the other side of the party, the low light seeming to only shine on the two of them in that large room of people. Her jaw was clenched and she thought about going over and pulling him away, being close to him in a way that had been stuck in her mind since the night before.

She then watched as he said something that sent the girl running, and a smile came across her face. She made her way over to him, his eyes lighting up when he saw her.

“You must really know how to sweet talk a girl,” she teased, practically having to scream over the noise.

“You would know,” he said it in a way that caused her cheeks to become even warmer than they already were.

“What’d you tell her?”

“She asked if I would go to her um… what’d she call it? Formal or something? She said it was some sorority thing. I told her I couldn’t because I have chemo that day. She thought I was kidding and then, well you saw the rest,” he chuckled, both of them looking over Hailey’s shoulder as the girl found some other guy to mingle with.

“You look like you’ve had fun,” he told her, instinctively bringing a hand to brush the slightly damp waves out of her face. “Why don’t we go outside for some cool air?” he offered. She nodded, grabbing a bottle of water on her way out.

The backyard was unexpectedly empty. It was a charming little courtyard with a few tiki torches keeping it dimly lit, and a big porch swing hanging from the large tree in the corner. Hailey made her way over, plopping down on the swing less than gracefully as she opened the water, her weak attempt at sobering up a bit.

“What do you think of your first college party?” she asked him as she tried to settle herself onto the swing.

“Overrated,” he said simply.

“Told you,” she returned, swallowing down a large gulp of the water.

“I kinda like seeing you like this,” he told her, laughing at the way her short legs swung back and forth to move the swing.

“I kinda like seeing you in general,” the words came out before she could fully process, and she squinted her eyes closed tightly, cringing at how forward her boozed up brain was making her.

He leaned against a tree across from her, crossing his arms as he snickered at her words. She laughed too, shaking her head as she took another pull from the water. He brought one of his hands up to readjust his hat as he watched her. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him. The pop of his collar, the way his eyes were still so vibrant in the low light. He was a sight to be seen, but it seemed like every time she looked at him like that lately, it only reminded her just how short her time with him could be.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her veins, or maybe it was that thing that the shooting awoke in her, but she felt like she needed to tell him how she felt. No matter how much time they had left. Then her brain dwelled on that. Time. What did his prognosis look like? She’d never asked him. Never had the courage to ask him. But in that moment? Hammered Hailey was just about ready to ask, do, and say anything.

“How much time do we have left?” she broke after a few moments of being lost in her jumbled, tequila ridden thoughts.

“If you’re ready we can go if you want. We don’t have to sta-“

“No. I mean how much time do we have left,” she repeated, her eyes glossing over in a way that made the sight before her look like the view through a rain coated window.

His face was twisted in confusion, then it softened as he realized what she meant, and dropped immediately into a pain inducing look of sorrow. He walked over, grabbing the swing to stop it from moving before falling down next to her. He let out a sigh, bringing an arm to rest on the bench behind her back as she felt him looking over at her. She sniffled, fidgeting with the bottle in her hands before she brought her eyes to meet his.

“Why now? Why wait until now to want to know that?” he asked, the words coming out benignly.

“Because I want to tell you something, and if I’m going to tell you, I need to know first.”

“If I tell you, will the answer change your mind about whatever it is?”

“Maybe,” he kept his eyes on her, somehow knowing she wasn’t being truthful, somehow pulling the truth out of her with one look. “No,” she looked down into her lap, took a breath, and reset their gaze. “I just need to know.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes moving to stare straight ahead as she kept hers on him.

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, taking a beat before continuing. “If this chemo does what it’s supposed to do, if it shrinks the tumor enough, I have surgery, go a few more rounds of chemo, and I could be in the clear. If it doesn’t? Things only get worse, and… I don’t know exactly how long, but the doctors give me a 30% chance of 5 more years.”

Silence fell upon them. Her gaze pulled away from him. They both looked straight ahead, not even daring to look at one another as Hailey let the news simmer. There was a pain in the back of her throat as she tried to hold back the sadness that plagued her body. It was a heaviness that started in her chest, extended up into her head, and burned the back of her eyes with a pain she hadn’t experienced before. She pinched at her temples with one hand as she kept the tears from streaming down her face. The only sound that surrounded them was the loud bass and indistinct voices coming from inside the house.

“Change your mind?” he finally asked. She could tell he’d turned his head back to face her, but she couldn’t find it in her to look back.

She shook her head, her stare still avoiding him as she closed her eyes. The tears that had built up spilled out and rolled down her cheeks. She groaned, those tears falling down hopelessly despite her best intentions.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked, his voice was hopeful and quiet, and it only broke her heart even more.

She shook her head again, sniffling as she wiped the tears away.

“It’s a surprise,” she eventually told him, her voice raspy. She finally turned to face him, forcing a smile through her hurt as she jumped from the swing.

“Hailey-“

“I think I am ready to go home,” she told him, resting a hand on his knee briefly before making her way around the house and out to the street, not even glancing back to see if he was following her.

The ride home was quiet. His eyes kept tied to the road, and hers roamed out the passenger window. The same magnetic like force that seemed to always pull them together was somehow pushing them away in that moment. She finished the rest of her water. It wasn’t enough to sober her up completely, but she wasn’t quite as foggy as she’d been back at the party.

When he pulled up outside of her place, he told her a short and quiet goodnight as she hopped out. She returned his farewell, flashing him a fake smile as she closed the door and headed up towards her place.

She walked up to her stoop, trying to focus on her steps to keep from stumbling over. She was still somewhat drunk, but she was also just overwhelmed by the emotions weighing her down. Her brain kept replaying what he said. A 30% chance of 5 more years with him, or an unknown chance of a lifetime. The idea of each scared her for different reasons, but there was only one that seemed impossible to accept.

There was the sound of a door shutting behind her, and she spun around. Her face fell into a frown as she saw him jogging towards her. He got dizzy just from standing, the last thing he needed to be doing was running after her.

“Jay, woah,” she called out, reaching her arms out towards him when he was close enough to touch.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he assured through winded breaths.

“Did you forget something or-“

“Look, I don’t know what you were going to tell me earlier, but I have something I need to tell you,” he interrupted, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to restabilize his breath.

She looked up at him, a blend of confusion and expectation on her face. His head was tilted toward the ground, and she could just make out his eyes from underneath the brim of his hat. They were glossed over and they avoided hers as he seemed to prepare whatever it was he had to say.

“I don’t know how much time I have left. That’s my truth, and it’s scary and frustrating, and probably a little unfair, but every time I think about it, all I can think about is how I want to spend every minute of whatever it is with you. It sounds crazy because we haven’t even known each other that long, but… there’s something here. It’s something I’ve known for a few weeks now, but if I’m being honest it’s something I knew somewhere in my mind from the moment I stepped on that damn elevator,” he said it with a sense of urgency and passion that broke her heart in an entirely new way that night.

That pain of holding back her tears returned as the words cut straight to her heart. Then he reached out and wrapped his hand around her forearm, allowing it to slowly slide down until it was grasping her hand in his. She shuddered at the touch. At the electricity that seemed to jolt through her body with his fingers against her skin. There was a reluctant and almost fearful look on his face as he did so, and she just squeezed his hand back, allowing him to know it was okay. He then grabbed their joined hands with his other, stepping forward as he brought them to rest on his chest.

“Hailey, I need to tell you this, and I hope it doesn’t scare you off I just...” he cut himself off, his eyes falling to the ground once more. He inhaled sharply, bringing his eyes back up to hers and peering into them with the same desperation and fire she carried in hers.

His mouth parted and the words left his mouth as if time had slowed down. It was one sentence, six simple words, but she could have sworn the world stopped spinning when he said them.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead fic #justmypartner fics #collection of Em’s fics

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oscar-lettjohanssonloveme · 4 years ago

Text

A Woman Like You pt. 3 (Diane Sherman x socialphobist!reader)

as i promised, there is chapter 3 whoohoo

request: need another part to a woman like you 😌

warnings: social anxiety i guess

here is pt two: https://littlejeaniehugsbumblebees.tumblr.com/post/640358893165363200/a-woman-like-you-pt-2-diane-sherman-x-reader

google translate- :’)

To say Y / N hadn't socialized in college would have been a lie. There were 1 or 2 students with whom she got along well.

One of them was Wylan Montgomery.

Wylan was a tall, slender man with sandy hair. Y / N couldn't tell if she thought he was pretty with his pale skin, but what she did know was, that she didn't find him attractive. But she liked him. Wylan didn't speak much as he was also more of an introvert and lived in his own world. Often Y / N and Wylan studied together in the library, checked each other's homework or discussed books. Nothing special, actually, but there was one thing that Y / N really appreciated about her friendship with Wylan: the weekly chess game.

Y / N loved chess. It was a strategy game, that wasn't about communication with the opponent at all. A game, that could be played in complete silence and the only important thing was concentration.

Wylan and Y / N had a tradition of meeting in the library every Thursday afternoon to play chess together.

Their game could take hours and it was not uncommon for Wylan and Y / N to be the last in the library by the end of the evening.

And when Y / N and Wylan were sitting in the library in the back corner by the window on this rainy Thursday and had been playing for an hour, Y / N couldn't have imagined how this afternoon would end.

"Damn it," Wylan muttered quietly as he stared strained at the chess board. Y / N, who was just as focused as he was studying the board, lifted her eyes to meet the blond boy in the face.

His green eyes literally jumped over the board as he nervously chewed his lower lip, as he always did when they were playing.

It was Wylan's turn and he'd been sitting there for 3 minutes without having done anything. Just like Y / N, he considered every step he took, not just in chess, but in real life as well.

Y / N looked back at the chess board and let her eyes wander over the black wooden figures she was playing with today.

She heard Wylan exhale loudly as he reached out to put his white pawn on E4.

How predictable, thought Y / N. She leaned forward to take the time to consider her next move. Wylan was a good player, but transparent as he often used the same strategy and the game was also relatively early on.

"Mister Montgomery?" Suddenly called a female voice that made Y / N flinch. Both students immediately raised their heads to look at the woman, who owned the voice. Professor Sherman came running out from behind a bookcase.

"I've been looking for you for 20 minutes .. Your roommate told me you were probably here," she explained with relief when she recognized Wylan at the table.

"Professor Wright sent me, he's been waiting for you for an hour."

Y/N looked confused away from Diane, who was ignoring her, to look at Wylan's face. The blond man seemed just as confused as she was when suddenly his eyes widened and he let out a quiet "fuck".

"Do you know where he's waiting for me?" He asked, turning to Diane, who shrugged.

"His office, I assume."

"Uhm okay, thank you".

Wylan stood up and gave Y / N a pleading look.

"M'sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay," Y / N replied and looked back at the chess board.

"I also have a lot to do."

He smiled wryly before turning and jogging out of the library.

Y / N looked back at the chessboard and started packing up while trying to ignore the fact, that Diane was still relatively lost across the table.

"Do you really still have a lot to do?", The professor suddenly asked and Y / N immediately raised her head to look at her confused.

"Excuse me?"

"If you want, I'll play with you-"

With narrowed eyes, Y / N looked into Diane's face and watched the professor chew on her lower lip.

"Is that pity?" Y / N asked skeptically and Diane quickly shook her head.

"Oh no," she said. "It was just an idea."

"Well, I've already started cleaning up, I-"

"So far you have only taken the rook off the field, it was on B5", Diane interrupted her and looked at the rook in Y / N's hand.

"But the game has already started", Y / N tried to get rid of her professor. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because Y / N didn't want to, on the contrary, she would have loved to play with her. But Diane was a stranger and to Y / N all strangers were her enemies.

In her mind she ran through all sorts of scenarios of how it would all work out.

Y / N's hand would probably tremble so much when placing the figures that she would knock over the other ones.

Maybe she was sneezing or something like that, maybe she would accidentally touch Diane. Maybe Diane was the kind of person, who talked a lot while playing and stared hard at Y / N while concentrating. On the other hand, chess was a game, that required a lot of concentration and nobody could blame Y / N if she kept silent while playing. And even though Y / N was afraid, that she might breathe too loudly, she knew, that she would regret it, if she would reject Diane.

"All right," Y / N finally uttered with a sigh and immediately regretted it. Damn it.

Diane smiled at Y / N's words before taking a seat across from Y / N at the table.

"Great," she muttered and Y / N put the black rook back on B5.

And then they started playing.

The next 3 hours were filled with a pleasant silence and concentration, for which Y / N was very grateful. So Diane wasn't the kind of person who talked a lot while playing. And that nobody spoke was not at all uncomfortable. Even so, Y / N tried to imagine that Wylan was sitting across from her and not her literature professor. But it was impossible; Diane's fingers were much slimmer than Wylan's. Then there was the cinnamon scent of her perfume, which replaced Wylan's aftershave, and at last there were the reddish-brown hair tips that slid onto the chessboard every time the professor leaned over to grab the figures.

Y / N didn't even look at the clock during the entire time and didn't even notice that the whole game lasted 3 hours. She hadn't noticed either, that it was already dark when she finally put Diane in check and she muttered:

"check

For the first time since they started playing, Y / N carefully raised her eyes to Diane to take in the expression on her face.

The woman frowned at the game board while her chin rested on her palm. Y / N noticed, that she was wearing the dark blue cardigan, as she often did in her seminars, and for whatever reason, Y / N liked this cardigan.

"Shit," said Diane finally, leaning back in her chair.

"You actually won."

"Well then, checkmate", Y / N muttered before reaching for her bishop to knock over the white king.

Meanwhile, the professor's brown eyes were still running over the field to analyze the entire game again.

"It's crazy," she finally said, leaning forward again to lean over the board.

"I've never met someone, who plays as subtly as you do."

Y / N lifted her gaze from the king to look straight into Diane's eyes.

Bad idea. Eye contact was disgusting and Y / N immediately blushed before glancing quickly at the lamp on the table.

"To be honest, I assumed you would win," she explained, staring into the bright light. Diane must have turned it on when it got dark.

"Why did you think, I would win?" Diane asked confused and Y / N could feel her gaze on her.

"I don't know," she replied and shrugged her shoulders.

"I played black-"

"Oh come on, you can't be serious"

"It was just a premonition, one of us had to win anyway and I just assumed you would be the one," Y / N tried desperately to justify herself before looking back at Diane, who was slightly confused and shook his head with a smile.

"You're weird," she muttered and Y / N felt a small sting in her chest. She hated it, when she was called that. As a social phobist, her greatest fear was, that people would perceive her that way. All she wanted was to be seen as normal, not as a weirdo.

For a few seconds she involuntarily lost herself in Diane's brown eyes and in these seconds her head was completely free of all anxious thoughts. To be honest, there was nothing left in her head. She could just stare. Diane finally cleared her throat and Y / N immediately averted her gaze in shame.

"I should go now, it's late and I have to go home," explained Diane as she got up.

"I have to go too," said Y / N quickly as she started clearing the board.

"Uhm, thank you, Miss Y / L / N," Diane said sincerely and smiled gently.

"It was great fun."

Y / N only nodded briefly and continued to collect the pieces from the board while listening to Professor Sherman's footsteps moving further and further away.

---------------------------------

It's like that with social phobia (at least for me): When I meet people and I'm very nervous in this situation qnd the meeting can be as relaxed as possible, but in the end only the things that stick in my memories is that, that were not perfect . Please don't get me wrong, shortly afterwards I am always very relieved, because all of my bad fears (like that I'm breathing too loudly) have not come true, but the more I think about this situation and how well everything went, I notice that it was still not perfect. There are little things that bother me: a confused look, a long moment of silence, the fear, of having laughed too loudly or the fact, that I accidentally touched the person I met while running.

I just want to do everything right and in no case overreact or do too much. And these little things that I mentioned above make me feel, that what I've done was too much and I decide to do less next time. Saying less, laughing less, just less.

And in the end, I really only have the things, that bothered me and after a while that's all I can remember.

That's why Y / N could only remember the moment, when Diane called her "weird". It was actually nothing, but Y / N feared nothing more, than the judgment of strangers and Diane's testimony hadn't really helped her, on the contrary, Y/N hated her literature professor now and had decided to skip the next seminar with the excuse, that she was sick.

And somehow she felt sick too. Y / N was of the opinion, that no one could understand her better than herself. She knew exactly what she had experienced. She knew, why she was the way she was and just the thought of talking to someone about it, made her tired. And when Diane called her weird, she realized again, that people can't help but judge. Advantages and clichés change our view of things so much and Y / N knows that, because she was not better.

To make matters worse, she had had to stare into her professor's eyes for a few seconds too long. Diane had to hate her, even though she'd said thank you for the game at the end. But as I said, over time that faded and the only thing that Y / N left of the afternoon was the moment, Diane called her weird and the brown color of her eyes, in which Y / N had lost itself a little too long.

Those were the things that were "too much". And at night Y / N lay with her head buried in the pillow, repeating this mantra in her head, which she always said to herself, when she had spent the day outside of her comfort zone:

"I hate people. I hate people. I hate people."

Sometimes Y / N's comfort zone was only the radius of her bed and then she hated getting up early. There was also her annoying roommate Andrea, who often dragged strangers into her room during the day and Y / N hated people. However, Andrea was also one of those people, who preferred to spend their nights in strange beds rather than their own, which is why Y / N was often alone at night.

It was Monday afternoon and Y / N had been in bed all day reading some stupid book. Probably no one had noticed, that she was missing from Diane's seminar today, she was practically invisible.

And when there was a knock on the door that afternoon, Y / N assumed, that it was Andrea who had forgotten her key again.

Y / N was wearing leggings and sweather and still she felt naked when she climbed out of bed to open the door, which was because she wasn't made up. When she opened the door of her room and saw who was standing there, she wanted to slam the door again.

"P-professor Sherman," she stuttered awkwardly, staring into Diane's slightly smiling face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, I just wanted to see if everything is okay with you," replied Diane with crossed arms. Y / N frowned.

"Do you visit all of your students, who are sick to see if they are okay?"

"I uh- No".

Diane shook her head.

"May I come in?"

Y / N's eyes widened slightly.

"That's not a good idea," she said quickly.

"It'll only take a moment, so please."

Y / N took a second to think about it. She hated Diane, this woman had destroyed Y / N's comfort zone and didn't have to do much to get it. Y / N was so emotional and so vulnerable that a little "weird" was enough to make her insecure.

"Okay," she finally said, nodding before turning to let the woman in.

Now she noticed, how chaotic the whole room was and she was immediately ashamed when she pushed Andrea's shirt aside with her foot, before she sat on the edge of her bed. Diane had closed the door behind her and crossed the room to take the chair at Y / N's desk, which was next to the bed.

"So, how are you?" Asked Diane, sounding a little uninterested, if Y / N could tell.

"I'm okay."

Y / N shrugged.

"I'll be honest," Diane began, staring lost at the chess board, that was on Y /N's desk.

"When I found out today, that you called in sick, I was initially concerned, that it was because of our chess game."

Y / N's eyes narrowed. Damn it.

"Why should I call in sick about it? It was nothing," she lied and Diane nodded quickly.

"I know," she muttered, pensively lifting a black pawn off the board to turn it between her fingers.

"That was, to be honest, the best chess game I've ever played with anyone."

Y / N snorted and shook her head.

"Then it seems like, you've never played with good players, I'm actually really bad," she said with a wry smile.

"It doesn't really matter," muttered Diane.

"I was just afraid, you'd called in sick, because you might find it strange to play chess with me, as your professor."

"And you thought the situation would improve, if you just visit me, as your student, in my room?", Y / N replied confused and Diane just shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess- Uhm, it would be nice if you go now", Y / N explained and got up, because she wanted to go to the door to open it, but when she made the first step, Diane suddenly grabbed her wrist and Y / N immediately whirled around to face her. She stared into Diane's eyes, which looked up at her with concern.

"Are you depressed?" She asked quietly and Y / N decided to hate her even more. Diane found her weird at first and now depressed. Then there was her tight grip on Y / N's wrist, Y / N hated body contact.

"What the hell, no," she hissed and pulled her arm free from Diane's grip. With quick steps she ran to the door to open it again.

"I think you should really go now, I don't want anyone to see me in the dorm with you."

Diane stared at Y / N for a few seconds, before finally getting up and walking to the door as well.

"I'm sorry, that I bothered you," she muttered without looking at Y / N.

"Get well soon, Miss Y / L / N."

With that she stepped out of the room and Y / N immediately locked the door behind her when she felt tears sting her eyes.

I hate people.

#diane sherman x reader #diane sherman #diane sherman imagine #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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extratragic · 4 years ago

Text

scars

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warning: hints at jj being abused for 0.01 seconds.

word count: 2165

summary: whenever you get a scar, it appears on your soulmates skin. your soulmate has a lot of scars.

a/n: i’ve been obsessing over soulmate au’s for a bit so here’s this. lowercase is on purpose cause i did this on my phone. also, i have like 3 topper fics in my drafts soo... should i post them?

“another one?” rafe asked, rubbing the scar on your eyebrow.

at this point, you probably had over thirty scars on your body. your soulmate was either reckless as hell or loved to do things that hurt him.

“there’s three. that one, one on my stomach, and one on my shoulder,” you sighed.

you and rafe once thought that you were each other’s soulmates. it was when you were fourteen and he was sixteen, but still. rafe had a crush on you, and when he kissed a scar on your shoulder and it didn’t go away, you both knew that the two of you weren’t meant to be. it was wishful thinking for both of you, considering rafe didn’t have the same scars, but it was worth a shot.

he had a simpler soulmate tie than you, his being the name of his soulmate on his wrist once he turned 18. it would’ve been a lot easier if he figured that out a few years earlier.

“he better be on his knees healing you,” rafe laughed.

you grinned and punched his shoulder. rafe had been your best friend since you were six years old, and the friendship never wavered, even after the sad truth of not being soulmates.

“we’re gonna miss the ferry if you don’t hurry your ass up,” you told him.

he rolled his eyes, mocking you as he followed you onto the ferry. it was finally summer break and you were going back home to the outer banks after your first year of being at chapel hill. you’d been home plenty of times over the school year, but now you could finally stay for months without worrying about going back so soon. plus, you spent spring break in the bahamas with the cameron’s, so you hadn’t been to an outer banks party in a while.

“what if it’s a pogue?” he teased you.

“then i hope it’s john b,” you shot back at him.

rafe didn’t have a good relationship with the pogues, and he especially didn’t like that his younger sister dated (and is currently on a break with) one of the most well-known pogues. you had a decent relationship with them. though the only ones that you ever spoke to were pope, john b, jj, and kie.

“honestly, if i do find him this summer, i just hope that it’s not one of your party friends,” you sighed.

“speaking of parties, there’s one at the boneyard tonight. sarah and john b are apparently getting back together and she wants us there,” he said.

you groaned and looked up at him with a frown. “do we have to?” you asked. sure, you missed obx parties, but it was your first day back home and you wanted to sleep.

he grinned and pinched your cheek, making you slap his wrist. “ow,” he hissed, watching the skin redden. you grinned proudly and he glared at you. “we’re going,” he stated.

jj maybank was standing at the keg with pope heyward, handing out plastic cups with beer in them to everyone who walked over. rafe was waiting across the beach with topper and kelce so that he wouldn’t feel tempted to fight jj.

your choice. rafe was a lot better at controlling his anger, but you didn’t want to risk anything by bringing him to the boy he used to fight almost weekly.

“hello, boys. i’ll take two cups, please,” you told them.

“coming right up. how’s chapel hill?” pope asked.

“it’s a constant party with the kook prince. where did you end up going to school?” you asked him.

“SEC. plenty of scholarships,” he grinned.

you grinned, taking one cup from jj’s hand when he held it out. “thanks, jj,” you said.

he nodded in response, keeping his head down. you looked at pope and he shrugged, handing jj another cup. jj quickly filled the cup and handed it to you.

pope looked down at his blonde friend and then looked at you. he noticed how jj’s eyes widened when he saw you coming closer, and he saw the way his eyes focused on the scar on your rib cage. it was the same one that jj had, one of the few scars that his soulmate gave him. he also saw the smaller scar by your bellybutton, one that was still red and healing on his best friends skin.

“crazy scar. what happened?” pope asked, pointing to your rib cage.

you smiled sheepishly and blushed, making pope grin.

“topper was teaching me how to surf a while ago. we were still on the sand but some kid ran past and stepped on my board and i fell onto a rock. no stitches but a lot of blood,” you answered.

pope chuckled and nudged jj who finally looked up at you. he had a soft smile on his face and your sheepish smile turned into a grin.

“i’ll see you guys around,” you said before walking away.

“you see maybank? he has the same eyebrow scar,” rafe asked you.

“i saw him earlier but he kept his head down most of the conversation. besides, jj used to fight with you a lot, maybe he fights with someone else now. eyebrow cuts aren’t that rare,” you said.

“do you even have any oddly placed scars?” he asked.

you pursed your lips, having to really think about it. “i mean, there’s the rib cage one. oh! and there’s the one right above my ass. i think the rest are decently normal.”

rafe smirked and turned you around so he was looking at your back.

you gasped and quickly turned around when he tried pulling the waistband of your shorts back to see the scar.

“i’ll kick your ass if you do that dumb shit again,” you told him.

he only grinned.

“hang on, why were you by jj? i thought you were staying away from him tonight,” you asked.

“i went to get a refill. nothing happened, mom,” he answered.

“y/n!” sarah screamed before you could respond.

you and rafe turned towards her voice, eyes widening when you saw her sprinting towards you. rafe stood behind you and put his hand on your back to keep you from falling when his younger sister almost tackled you.

“oh, my sweet y/n. i missed you,” she sighed.

you looked at john b and he grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

sarah was wasted already.

“hey, princess. did you pregame a little hard?” you laughed.

she hummed and nodded, still wrapped around you like a koala. you held onto her, though. after knowing the girl for almost your entire life, you were used to her drunken state and being able to hold her up.

“did you miss me?” she slurred.

“i missed you so much,” you laughed.

sarah cameron has two drunk personalities. she was either extremely affectionate and touchy, or she was annoyed and angry. her high personalities were different, though. apparently she was feeling affectionate tonight.

“how are you and john b?” you asked.

“we’re great! i just needed to be dicked down i guess,” she said.

you laughed loudly and rafe groaned. john b blushed and pulled sarah off of you, letting her wrap her arms around his waist instead.

“i should get her out of here. it was, uh, good to see you guys,” he said, nodding awkwardly.

you and rafe waved to them and they left. you were giggling at the way sarah was trying to kiss john b but he was pushing her face away.

“well, we know that your sister is getting lucky. now we need to get lucky,” you said.

“with each other?” rafe asked.

“nope. i’m gonna search for my soulmate. what scar should i focus on?” you asked.

he looked over your visible skin, which was a lot considering that your outfit consisted of a black bikini top and denim shorts.

“those two,” he pointed to the one one on your rib cage and your newest abdomen one, “and the eyebrow.”

“i’ll text you later if i don’t see you,” you told him.

he nodded and you kissed his cheek before walking away.

almost two hours later, you were sitting around a bonfire with kie, pope, jj, and a few tourons.

kie was flirting with a touron, and doing an amazing job. seriously, her flirting skills were so good that you were sure she could flirt you into bed if she wanted to. sarah had drunkenly told you one night that kie might be bisexual, telling you that kie’s had a few female one-night stands.

power to her.

jj sat beside you, pope on his other side. the three of you were drinking quietly, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing and the heat from the fire.

the party had died down some, enough so someone turned the music down some and you weren’t bumping into someone every second while walking through the crowd.

you shivered when the wind blew harshly, hitting your skin and causing goosebumps to appear.

“shit. hey, jj, do you have a hoodie or something that i can wear? i think rafe took the car and my clothes are in there,” you asked. rafe texted you about an hour ago that he was leaving with a touron. since he didn’t bring you his keys, he probably took the car.

the blonde nodded and stood up, not saying a word as he motioned for you to follow him.

you stood up and wiped the back of your shorts before following jj. he led the two of you to john b’s van and slapped his hand on the back door.

“if you rabbits are in here, i’ll kill you!” he yelled.

you laughed softly and he opened the door, sighing happily when he saw that no one was inside.

“is it a common occurrence to find sarah and john b in here?” you asked.

jj grimaced and nodded. “we catch them all the time. it’s really gross. i’ve learned to hide my things underneath the seat, but i don’t think pope or kie have caught on,” he told you.

another laugh fell from your lips and jj grinned at the sound. he could listen to you laugh all day, especially if he was the one making you laugh.

he pulled out a grey hoodie and handed it to you before taking his t-shirt off.

your eyes focused on the jagged scar on his rib cage, but they widened when you saw the scar beside his bellybutton.

“jj...” you trailed off, almost dropping the hoodie in your hands.

he looked over at you and followed your gaze, seeing that it was focused on the two bigger scars on his abdomen.

“you okay?” he asked nervously.

he hated his scars. well, he hated most of his scars because he only had them because of his dad. he didn’t want to get his hopes up earlier when he saw the scar on your rib cage and he still wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

“jj, come on. i know you’ve seen my scars. we have the same fucking ones,” you said.

you were scared. finding your soulmate was always a scary thought for you. there wasn’t really a reason why other than your anxiety about if they didn’t want to be your soulmate.

he sighed and sat down on the floor of the van, looking at the ground.

“maybe... maybe not the exact same,” he said.

did he not want to be your soulmate?

“wh... what? are you serious? what the fuck are you doing to get a scar right here, maybank?” you asked, grabbing his hand and putting it on your newest scar.

you were pissed. there was no way that you were letting this boy go without a fight.

his fingers gently traced over the straight line, then moved up to the jagged one that you gave the both of you. he smiled softly and looked up at you.

“i’m scared,” he said quietly.

“yeah, me too,” you agreed.

he grinned and you sat beside him, throwing your legs over his and leaning against the back of the passenger seat. you gently took jj’s wrist in your hand, lifting his arm closer to you. there was a burn scar on the side of his wrist, the exact spot where your hair straightener scar was.

“can i...” you trailed off.

jj nodded and you softly kissed the scar, then pulled your lips from his skin to watch. when the scar slowly faded until it was gone, you slapped the blonde’s arm.

“hey! what was that for?” he exclaimed.

“jj, i’ve given you ten scars max! i can’t even count how many i have because of you!” i snapped.

he grinned, grabbing your cheeks in his hands. “one less,” he said, kissing your eyebrow.

you hummed and leaned closer to him. “you got a lot to make up for, maybank,” you said.

“glad to kiss them all away,” he said.

#obx jj #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #soulmate #soulmate au #college au #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks

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sanstropfremir · 3 years ago

Note

would love to hear ur thoughts re. these street woman fighter's performances and who you would personally vote as the "better dance crew" in how they interpreted each other choreos and the song.

this was for their first elimination round (ep4) and it was interesting to hear from the judges + why they gave the points they did. (i'm not entirely sure if you're watching the show's episodes. they are roughly 2 hours long. so if you would like more context, pls let me know! i wrote brief comments underneath each one as well as the winners [spoilers ahead!]. assuming you are not: for this mission, each crew is paired with another crew and they have to choreograph one of the soloist songs. songs were "split" into two parts: part one [would be one song] and part two [another song]; one crew would choreograph one part and follow the other's crew choreograph for the other part.)

1. boa - eat you up (want choreo) + better (ygx choreo). dance crews: ygx vs want

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gCfK_qWAhM0&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: ygx. boa gave 151 pts to ygx and 49 pts to want (the biggest gap in points between crews), sharing that although want choreographed eat you up, ygx was more cohesive (pointing to how want wore hats and it was messy). additionally, ygx had better stage presence and was able to capture the camera more. also, because ygx is the only crew to have a b-girl and use it in their routine, the judges applauded want for doing the best they can.

2. cl - doctor pepper (wayb) + hello bitches (prowdmon). dance crews: prowdmon vs wayb

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEEpZ9SrvaE&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: prowdmon. judges shared that doctor pepper's routine is a trademark of wayb and that they should have been the standout. however, they felt like prowdmon did it better.

3. hyuna - crazy (4minute) (coca n butter) + i'm not cool (hook) + lip and hip (hook). dance crews: hook vs coca n butter

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e1ikpPKEA30&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: hook. the two dance crews are VERY different in terms of style. coca n butter is described to be more hip-hop while hook is definitely more reflective of the current/newer trends. (when hook was first introduced in the show, they were known as the crew who was famous only for tiktok dances.) the judges shared that hook was more fun and interesting, given their stylistic choice of wearing the pink wigs. whereas it seemed for coca n butter, they felt like something was lacking (they showed something but it didn't feel they did.)

4. jessi - what type of xx (lachica) + nununa (holybang) + gucci (holybang). dance crews: holybang vs lachica

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtZzI11oyqc&ab_channel=MnetTV

winner: lachica. (this was the only battle where both crews came in v close pts. whereas for the other crews, there were huge point-gaps.) judges had a hard time choosing, sharing that for lachica they were more detail-oriented while holybang had better teamwork.

imo, i agree with the judges' choices. though i would have to say i think wayb did their routine (doctor pepper) better than prowdmon. they stood out to me then, but when it came to the second part (hello bitches), prowdmon was better. i loved lachica's performance - it was v clean + reminded me of something a kpop group would do (which like, the crew largely works with kpop acts like chungha, boa's better, etc. so it makes sense).

this was LONG. thank u if u do read it and post! i miss the kingdom "era" when u would post weekly reviews. the two are v different but this new mnet competition show is the only one i'm invested in. i'm not sure if it's big internationally? i know it is v popular in korea right now. while i've only seen i-fans talk about the show as it relates to chaeyeon (want) because she's an idol. - swf (streetwomanfighter) anon :]

omg this is so long and well organized, forget me writing reviews anon you should do it!! i'm not currently watching the full episodes but i've been catching the few clips that pop up in my youtube recommended occasionally, so i definitely don't have all the context but i'll take a crack at it!

ok so my assumption/from what i can tell, they have a bit of leeway to alter the competing group's choreo as needed to better suit numbers and formations. i also went and found the individual versions of these because why did they make them so small on the split screen, don't they know i'm old and wear glasses. also: MNET FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY STOP MOVING THE FUCKING CAMERA. WE DO NOT NEED SCROLLING VERTICAL BOOM SHOTS OF THIS. just keep the same lens at eye level it's really not that hard. this is like, one of the worst possible ways to shoot dance it is SO annoying. ok i'm done bitching about that let's go.

1. boa - ygx vs want i agree with the big point gap on this one, and i think want made a couple of choices that were not cohesive enough, and obviously they also got set up to fail by ygx. actually i think both groups made choices that were not particularly good, but ygx had more of the skills to back up what they were doing than want did. breaking is very difficult and requires a lot of upper body strength and a higher centre of gravity, which are two physical traits that are less common in women. personally i wouldn't have tried to break to better because although boa songs do have more of a beat than other idol music, it's still not at all the right type of music for breaking. it's gotta be fast, breakers rely on speed, because it's all about momentum; they're literally throwing themselves around the stage. here's the final from battle pro 2019 for example. the music is basically beats only; heavily lyric based music, like idol music, is bad for battling in general because there isn't a lot of consistency. i have more to say about this but i'm getting off track. basically by choosing to handicap the other team (because they don't have a bgirl at all) they shot their own bgirl in the foot because the song is too slow to properly show off her skills. i applaud want for making bold choices, like the hatwork and attempting the breaking, but ultimately when combined with their styling the performance looks disjointed. also they have some formation cohesion issues that make it look a bit like they'e struggling to keep up, even with their own choreo.

2. cl - prowdmon vs wayb i agree with the judges, i think prowdmon bodied the wayb choreo. i actually thought that was their choreo at first. they have the best presence that i've seen of all the groups and the performative "hard bitch" attitude fit in with their genre setting. wayb had several mistakes and synchronization issues that in my opinion made them look sloppy in comparision to prowdmon, who were sharper and had two more people to put into formations. 3. hyuna - hook vs coca n butter ok personally i don't like either of these choreos, but i'm agreeing with the judges here, i think hook's was the mildly more engaging. i can tell that they're very young and do mostly short form tiktok content because i see a lot of eye catching moves, but i don't see a lot of strong connective tissue between those moves. they have good ideas but they also really struggle with putting people into formation and balancing it out well. it doesn't help that they're a seven member crew going up against a four member one, so they have three extra people to figure out what to do with. there's a lot of empty space where there are members waiting in position for a group formation. it also doesn't help at all that they (mnet) appear to just be rawdogging the songs together without any kind of mixing, which is a huge detriment to groups that have to choreograph for two in their section. i'm not cool and lip and hip have two totally different feels and kudos to hook for at least trying to get them to at least visually be cohesive when mnet is go girl giving us nothing sonically. coca n butter has much more of an old school hip hop style, so putting these two up against each other was (probably a random lot draw) an interesting choice. personally i would have been more interested to see hook against want with the boa tracks and ygx against coca n butter with the hyuna tracks. however, i think the reason why coca n butter's stage felt like it was lacking is because they tried to emulate hyuna, without having the stage presence or the weirdness of hyuna. it feels like they're trying too hard and there isn't really any personal character in the piece, versus with hook, who embodied hyuna's weirdness a little more authentically and took a completely different direction. 4. jessi - lachica vs holybang lachica took this one easily, although their formations were a bit wonky for nununana, they covered it fairly well and i think they managed the best transition between songs (between nununana and gucci). they were sharper with good stage pictures and had a good gimmick with the double fringe on the gloves and hats. holy bang had some issues fitting their extra person into the what type of x choreo, but they did well with their own choreo. however, like with coca n butter and hook, because lachica took a new visual spin, this felt too derivative of jessi, so it wasn't that interesting for me to watch. i do think they are one of the groups on the stronger end of skills and presence. --- as far as visually what performances i liked the best, since would this even be a writeup by me if i didn't talk about design, here's a quick breakdown:

prowdmon - got some rudimentary setpieces, got a theme, got some fun variations on a uniform look; excellent for what i assume was limited budget capacity and also it's a dance crew show.

lachica - great continuity of effect in costuming with the fringe, and using the gloves as a mouth/lip effect was one of the most interesting choices of these routines.

hook - the pink wigs and the black latex on the checkered floor was a nice gimmick that was a bit of a nod to hyuna's weird without being too derivative. i'm not expecting a whole lot because these are dance crews but i think this was a decent amount of styling effort.

want - they made a bold choice with the hats and even though it didn't quite pay off for them i still respect it.

coca n butter/ygx/holybang/wayb - ygx and wayb did basic hip hop type styling and while it's absolutely fine, it's just boring. holybang went for a directly inspired jessi look, and although yes bodysuits, overall it wasn't that interesting either. coca n butter get props for doing a costume change and actually incorporating that into the choreo but it feels too much like it's trying to be hyuna weird with the caution tape strapped over their tits and asses.

---

as a final note/question to you, my lovely invested swf anon, what's the format of the show? are there stages like this every episode to review? if these were from the fourth one only, is there anything worth me reviewing in the first three? i'm not particularly interested in the aggressive competitive nature of the show and editing so i don't particularly want to watch the full two hour episodes, but if you think it's worthwhile for me to review stuff then i will. otherwise if there's a set structure (like with kingdom) i can seek out the stages specifically and review them if i know what i'm looking for.

#street woman fighter #swf #swf reviews #i dont really know what the international reception is. the very few people ive seen talking about it on twt #have been insane kpoppies disrespecting boa. so not the best ifan showing so far #am i back in my review era already???? we shall see #(while i still have like EIGHT different asks left. if you wonder why im taking so long to get to some of them. that is why)#(OH plus the first half of the stylings post. and the fabled fave choreos post. so many things in my drafts rn)#(but also please dont stop sending me questions it makes me very happy. the gerbil in my brain is just slow)#dear anon who just asked me about red lights and kink. mwah you are welcome to slide into my dms anytime you like #wait by putting kink in the tags did i just invite a bunch of pornbots onto this #whatever lmao #might need to start a new organizational tag for this because it's only kpop adjacent. thoughts for later #text #answers #ngl these group names are gonna drive me insane. why are all dance crew names so fucking weird

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kyber-crystal · 4 years ago

Text

Always Close By

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.1k hehe kinda long

Summary: In which even the mightiest of superheroes aren’t immune to sickness, and when Steve falls ill, you end up babysitting him.

Warnings: none, just steve being a big baby ahaha

Sleep had never really come easily to you. Your insomnia had been a consistent issue since before you first joined the Avengers, so days like these in which you mindlessly wandered around the compound downing two or three cups of coffee and eating granola bars weren't uncommon.

You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night yet for some reason, weren't feeling drowsy like you usually did when you stayed up. This time Sam and Bucky were also awake with you, and the three of you switched between playing Mario Kart and Animal Crossing to kill time.

One by one the rest of the team began to wake up and you and Wanda decided to start preparing breakfast. After everyone had finished eating you'd noticed Steve still hadn't come out, and decided to go check up on him.

"Steve?" you knocked carefully on his bedroom door as to not disturb him. "It's time for breakfast."

You didn't get a proper reply but heard a light groan in response, deciding to go inside after several more attempts.

He was buried under his covers, forehead glistening with a cold sweat and his dirty-blonde hair disheveled. When he looked up to meet your gaze you noticed his cheeks were flushed a bright red from heat, and were immediately concerned at the sight.

"Hey," you said softly, carefully approaching him. "You okay?"

Steve just shivered and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Don't know."

You brought a palm up to his forehead and were alarmed by how hot it felt, hissing at his feverishness as you pulled your hand back. "You're burning up."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he chuckled, but his laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I'm, just, fine."

"You're coming down with a fever," you stated. "I thought you couldn't get sick."

"Apparently, I can," he coughed, "But it's just a simple flu. I'll be back to normal before you know it. We have our weekly sparring showdown tonight, right? I can't miss out on that."

Despite the calm tone in his voice, you still weren't convinced. The thermometer read a whopping 105.6 degrees and from what you knew, that meant you had to get medical help right away.

"No, you're not. Your body temperature is abnormally high. You're staying in bed," you ordered, then sighed. It was hard not to go soft at those puppy dog eyes, but you knew denying him from being able to do any strenuous physical activity was for the best.

"Can you please speak more quietly," Steve whispered, "I have a migraine."

"I'm sorry," you were quick to lower your voice, "hey...how did this even happen to you? Did you eat anything weird?"

"Food poisoning?"

"No, that can't be. We all ate takeout together for dinner last...shit, shawarma." Your eyes widened in realization. "Dammit, it is."

"Language," he said weakly.

"You're staying in bed for today, alright?" you gave him a stern look.

"I'm not completely disabled, I can stand. Just let me go get some breakfast and afterwards I'll come right back to bed."

"Fine."

You gripped his forearm to help him stand up and his arm immediately went around your waist. You weren't sure whether the heat radiating off him was from his fever or from the way he generally made you feel. Brushing the thought off, you helped him to the kitchen.

"Damn, Cap. What happened?" Sam raised a brow at his friend's appearance.

"I think Tony poisoned him," you shot the billionaire a death glare. "I knew something was up with that shawarma place."

"Then how come none of us are sick?" Tony questioned. "We all had the same thing."

"No, we didn't. Steve and I were the only ones who specifically ordered the chicken shawarma. You guys took kebabs."

"Then why aren't you sick?"

"I don't know."

Steve pulled up a chair to the kitchen island, immediately laying his head on the cool marble counter and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Cap, you think you can try and stomach this? You need to eat or your condition will get worse," Pepper urged as she pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and French toast towards the super-soldier. He pulled himself back up into a sitting position and took a bite out of his toast, but quickly set it down after a wave of nausea washed over his body and he bit back a gag.

He tried to stand up and stumbled, but you and Bruce were quick to catch him by his shoulders.

"Cap? Are you okay?" the scientist asked gently. "Steve."

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping your waist tightly as he grew lightheaded, the world around him beginning to spin rapidly.

You lowered his head onto your lap as Wanda gave you a cold towel, and you pressed it to his sweaty forehead as you ran your other hand through his hair.

"We should get him back to his room, then I'll go get the treatments," Bruce explained as you tried to pull him back up, which was a lot harder than it seemed. "Then we'll figure it out from there."

"Jeez, how heavy are you," you said as you tried helping him to his feet. "I swear you're twice my weight..."

"172," he replied plainly.

"Feels a lot heavier than that. Thought you were at least 200 with all that broad muscle," you grunted as Bucky came forward to help you, and Steve slung his arms around both your shoulders.

Once you led him to his room, Steve lazily crawled back into bed and you pulled the covers over him. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, breathing steadier than before though it still sounded somewhat plugged.

“You sure you’re okay staying here with him?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “If you’re tired too, I can step in if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But thanks,” you yawned, waving him off. “Now go and...kick Sam’s ass in Mario Kart so I can face off against you later.”

“You got it,” he ruffled your hair before leaving the room.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, and sighed. 9:17.

I know I had a workout video scheduled to be posted, guys, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to have it up today, you typed out a quick message to your Twitter. Steve’s sick and I’m having to take care of him. Hope you all understand <3

Almost immediately, the replies came flooding in.

Awww we love a supportive teammate/gf

Couple goals uwu

Get better soon, Cap!

You smiled to yourself, setting your phone on Steve’s nightstand and running your hand through his hair again. He did look rather peaceful while asleep - and not to mention, flawless, with a face looking like it was sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Times in which you saw him in a state like this were extremely rare, so you treasured every little moment you got. Between co-commanding missions with you, filing reports, and countless meetings with SHIELD officials (you let him doodle on your hand as he half-listened to the lectures), he was restless.

You didn’t know when or how you fell asleep, but when you woke up streams of bright light were filtering in through the windows, the sun high in the sky. You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed, gently laying Steve’s head against his pillow before standing up and shuffling down the hall to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” you rubbed your eyes with your sweater’s sleeve. “How long was I out for?”

“1:45. You want lunch? You hardly ate in the morning,” Rhodey pushed a plate towards you. “You’ve been asleep for roughly four hours, Y/N.”

You pulled your phone out again - the weather outside was apparently a breezy 68 degrees. The fact that it wasn’t even hot outside, but Steve was sweating profusely, made you concerned.

You let out a satisfied sigh as you bit into the sandwich (courtesy of Vision’s cooking), practically inhaling it in just a couple of bites. “Did any of you guys come down with symptoms...?”

“No, but you’ve been exposed so I’d advise that you take this,” Bruce handed you a small, blue pill. “It should keep you from catching Steve’s bug.”

You nodded and swallowed the pill down without even bothering to drink anything. “Alright.”

Just five minutes passed before your phone buzzed on the table. You were quick to answer, holding it up to your ear.

“Y/NNNN.”

“Steve? What do you need? Are you okay? When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago...I threw up and then went back to bed, but I couldn’t fall back asleep-”

“Oh, god. Hold on a second, I’ll be right there,” you promptly ended the call and got out of your seat, pushing the chair in before rushing down the hall to his room.

The super-soldier was sitting up in bed when you arrived, sweat streaming down his forehead as he leaned against the headboard, cheeks flushed a bright red. “Y/N-”

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, I’m here, what do you need? Water? Ice?”

“I feel horrible.”

You brought your hand up to his forehead again, and immediately jerked it away. “You’re still running a really high f...dammit, have you taken any medicine?”

“No...”

“Stay right here, I’ll go get some-”

“Don’t leave me,” he begged hoarsely as he reached out to grab your wrist. You felt a twinge in your chest at that damn pleading look in his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

You let out a sigh of defeat. “...I’ll have Bucky bring the medicine then, okay?”

“Mhmmm.”

It turned out, taking care of a sick super-soldier was a lot more difficult than it seemed. You initially thought that with the serum in his veins, that Steve couldn’t get sick - but for some reason it only amplified his symptoms. Damn that shawarma.

After alerting FRIDAY, Bucky appeared holding a glass of ice water in his metal hand and a small bottle of some medication in the other.

“How ya feelin’, punk?”

“Hey, jerk...” Steve said weakly, “Why is there two of you standing in front of me?”

“He’s getting worse, Y/N...” he looked genuinely worried, his gaze flickering between you and Steve. “...I gotta go now so I won’t get sick...but Y/N will take care of you. Got it?”

“Mhmm.”

As soon as Bucky left you popped open the bottle. “Hey. Drink this.”

“It smells disgusting,” Steve scrunched his nose up in distaste.

“You need to or you’ll only get worse. Now come on,” you urged. He turned his head away to avoid drinking the strong-smelling liquid. “Stop acting like such a big baby. For Odin’s sake, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Do you want to keep feeling like this?”

“No.”

“Then drink the medicine! It’s not that hard.”

“No.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said sternly. “Drink. It. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

Your sudden firm tone of voice took him by surprise. “Fiiiine.”

He took the bottle from your hands and tilted his head back, gulping it down within seconds. As soon as he finished he made a face.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was.”

You pulled your chair closer to his bedside, propping your hand on your chin as you observed him. “Still feeling nauseous?”

“Mhmmm.”

“If you throw up, you’re gonna have to take this all over again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“No..I don’t wike it.”

You chuckled lightly. “I know. It’s for your own good, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s wait for a bit, and if you’re feeling well enough, I can make some onion soup for you, okay? How does that sound?”

“Amazing. I love your soup. Why don’t you cook more often?”

“Just never really considered it,” you shrugged.

Steve rubbed his eyes, subconsciously reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He then lifted your hand up to his face and pressed your palm to his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch.

You swallowed hard as you allowed yourself to stare again at his messy-haired, exhausted figure. Your chest ached. The things you were willing to do for him... god, you loved him so much...

“...Why are you staring?” he mumbled, glancing over to meet your worried eyes. “What’s that look on your face? Y/N...are you okay?”

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed together and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe what you said at all. “Sure you are.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You’re acting like these are my final moments and that I’m going to die soon. Stop worrying so much.”

“This is coming from the person who waited eight hours straight for me to undergo surgery after that Belarus case?”

“Uh huh.”

Several moments passed in silence before he spoke up again. “Thanks for taking care of me...I’m sorry for being a big baby. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “you’re not a burden at all.”

You ended up watching The Empire Strikes Back that afternoon, his head in your lap and you running your fingers through his soft hair. At one point in the movie he began to drift off, and you carefully slid yourself out of bed.

He stirred awake again, reaching for you. “Y/NNNN.”

“I’m gonna go make the soup for you. Rest up and if you’re feeling well enough, then shower and come out to the kitchen, okay?”

“Alright.”

“He doin’ better?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow at you.

“Fever’s gone down a bit but the nausea’s still there,” you exhaled as you began grabbing the necessary ingredients, “hey, uh, Pietro, can you go down to the cellar and grab some white wine?”

The speedster nodded and in a flash, he had the bottle in his hands. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s Cap right now?” Sam questioned.

You heard the water running and replied, “Taking a shower. He’s been sweating like the Amazon.”

With Pietro’s help and your additional powers, you finished up the soup that was supposed to take an hour in just twenty-five minutes. By the time you were setting the bowl along with some bread onto a plate, Steve was hobbling into the kitchen, hair wet and messy with a towel hung around his neck. The tight T-shirt he changed into showed off his toned figure, and you almost dropped your glass of water at the sight.

His eyes immediately lit up upon seeing the food, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I know.” You winked and took a seat next to him. The team smirked at the flirty exchange.

Surprisingly enough, he had the entire thing finished under five minutes so that you had to give him a second serving, which he basically inhaled in two giant gulps.

“You were hungry, huh.”

“After throwing up yesterday’s dinner, yeah.”

You shot Tony a pointed glare. “Thanks a lot, Stark.”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, and held his phone up. “Look, I called them earlier while you were asleep and they gave us a full refund.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

Steve’s migraines started acting up again and you were forced to help him back into bed (with Bucky’s assistance, of course). After spending all day hovering over him, you fell asleep as well, a mere thirty seconds after he did.

...

When you came to the next morning, you felt an arm tighten around your waist and a sleepy groan coming from right next to you. You slowly opened your eyes and realized you were curled up against him with a hand resting against his chest, your legs intertwined together as he held you tightly to him. A breath of relief escaped your lips when his face no longer looked alarmingly pale and his cheeks weren’t bright red.

Steve woke up a few seconds later, giving you a sleepy smile as his grip around you tightened.

"Mornin', doll," he said in a husky voice that made you almost swoon. But then he too, realized what was going on and quickly snapped out of it. "What- oh my God, I’m sorry-”

“Are y’all fully dressed in there? Wanda made her famous French toast feast for breakfast so if you don’t get yo asses out here I’m eating your food!” Sam yelled as he pounded on the door.

"Just a minute!” you shouted back in reply as you and Steve sprung apart, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of clothes before heading to the bathroom to change.

“What the hell, Y/N, you actually slept for sixteen consecutive hours? I’ve never seen you do that before?”

“Huh? What time is it?”

“8:07. And why are you wearing Steve’s shirt?”

“What do you mean? I’m not...” you trailed off on your sentence and looked down to see that you were in fact, wearing one of Steve’s shirts. “...Oh.”

“Did you two...”

“No!”

“Cute,” you heard someone chuckle lowly from behind you and turned around to see a smirking Steve with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So I see now that you’re okay, you’re acting all cocky again, hm?” you raised an eyebrow at the super-soldier. “Guess those meds finally wore off.”

He just chuckled in response and pulled him towards you, engulfing you in a tight, hug.

“Let me go!” you squealed, squirming against his tight grip as the team watched in amusement. “I need to eat breakfast! Let me go!”

“Only if you say the words, sweetheart.”

“Let me go right this instant! I’m serious!” you began laughing uncontrollably. “Steve! Let me go!”

“Not until you say it.”

“Fine! I love you and you’re my favorite Avenger!” He released you from his arms and you brushed your shirt off. “There, happy?”

Steve laughed again, that same damn smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you could get flustered, Y/N.”

“I’m not flustered,” you muttered.

“Your face is like a tomato!” Peter exclaimed. “You wouldn’t look like that if you weren’t. Mr. Stark, looks like I owe you twenty.”

“Peter, did you make a bet with Tony again?” You frowned.

“Yep! We bet when we’d finally figure out you liked Cap and he bet within the next week, while I said three weeks.”

“Oh my god.”

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