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atlabeth · 3 years ago

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nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

#mike munroe #mike munroe x reader #mike x reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn #until dawn fic #mike until dawn #sadie writes #i always get so insecure when i post things that arent for atla #then i remember that. this is my blog and i can write what i want #lol

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renneiscent · 2 years ago

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You Are All That Matters

I hope this makes sense and apologise for bad writing and messy grammar. Anyway, it’s getting near the end thus I have important question. Did you already prepare for the worst?

Warning: Violence, blood-loss mention, stabbing.

Chapters: 17/?

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There are some days that I always think I’m just an ordinary person. In fact, I always think that I’m too ordinary. There is this thought that I used to have in my mind that God didn’t create me by His own hands just like whatever bible said, but instead He used the already existed template to make my figure. I don’t have much talent or skill, I have no unique or distinctive feature on me. I’m average in everything. I’m anything but special.

Since I was in still school, I always believe that the main characters are not just something you found in book, movie, theatre, or even game. The truth is there will be always main character and supporting character, even here in reality. Life is like enormous stage for something like school drama. There will be beautiful person as the princess and her charming prince who is going to be main characters, the evil antagonist with their grumpy assistant, the villagers who support the plot and are not able to talk if the spotlight didn’t turn on them, or even the tree which just stand idly watching the chaos right there.

It’s been forever that I never thought I’m the main character even in my life. I always thought I’m just supporting character which even if I hadn’t been there, no one would have noticed. But for once, my life has been changed. For once, many people notice and interact with me. For once, some people really need me in their lives. For once, someone said that I’m important and cannot lose me.

Everything in my life turned upside down because someone from the other side of this world sent my number. It’s funny if you think about it. How one encounter can affect everything in your life, how one choice can change the whole route in your direction, how something as small as the butterfly wings can ultimately cause the typhoon halfway around the world. How my life is completely changing because someone here is just randomly involve me in her disappearance.

And then you came into my life and everything change.

“I never want to kidnap or kill you! But why you confront me and treat me as a murderer!? I already forgave you for ruining my plan but this is what I got!?” the gripping of his hands around my neck is tighten even more.

In the split of seconds when I was too stunned because of someone who I thought is my friend trying to strangle me, I finally managed to come back to this bitter reality.

“I’m not going to die here,” I say to myself since I’m not able to say it to this motherfucker above me. I’m sticking into his gunshot wound with my fingernails, pressing it hard and deep on his flesh and making him scream in pain and loosening his strangle on me. I use this opportunity to poke his eyeballs with my fingers and kick him away on the chest. I immediately crawl as far as I could and try to get up. I have no idea where should I go, I cannot even think clearly but the most important thing right now is I need to stay alive!

“Where do you think you are going!?” he snatches my ankle and makes me fell to the ground.

I try to kick him in the face few times but it misses, instead my phone is thrown away from my jacket’s pocket because of my rapid movements. My phone makes me remember with the swiss army knife that I bring this whole time which I have been keeping inside my pocket. I quickly grab the knife inside my jean pocket and pull out the knife then intend to stab him in his shoulder right away.

“Such a sneaky little girl, aren’t you?” he sneers while gripping my wrist firmly; making me hard to stab him, while his other hand right now is strangling me again.

I grunt of pain around my neck and my wrist. The gripping on my wrist becomes more firm than before and makes me drop the knife beside me, Richy of course didn’t miss this chance and let go his hand off my wrist and move it to my neck, pushing me hard to the ground even more; another round of strangling me to the death.

“Why…are…you…doing…this?” I whisper painfully, the oxygen capacity which I need is slowly decreasing but I still managed to think. I try to distract him with asking stupid and cliché question while my hand is sneakily reaching the knife.

“Because you make me pissed off! I tried to warn you over and over again, I told you my secret and you treat me as murderer!? Do you think I will let you walk out without getting some lesson, huh?” he threatens, his eyes are going darker and darker in every second.

“Shut…up…!” I state while swinging my hand which finally managed holding the army knife and try to stab him again. I’m not going to let every of your plans go your way!

That’s what I thought. But… who am I joking to anyway?

I will never be the main character. I'm just a supporting character who helps someone's storyline. I’m just a supporting character who helps Hannah’s case. It doesn’t matter if I hadn’t been here all along, someone would take my position. Why am I working too hard for someone I never meet before? Why am I letting myself involved in this long nightmare? Why am I taking this stupid and reckless route? Why am I managed to sacrifice myself like this?

I cough in reflex; there is pain I can feel around my stomach area, it feels like the shirt and my jacket are damped because of something. Is it raining? But there is no water coming at all.

“Oh no no no…” Richy stutters then gets up from me. He puts his hands back of his head, the expression of him shows that he is panic.

What makes him so panic like that? I take a glance to the spot where he’s been looking. Ah, it looks like I’m the one who got stabbed here. With all of these adrenaline rushes, I did not notice that. So I assume what my clothes feel damped is my blood? Wow, I never thought that a small knife can hurt someone like this. My brother will pay for this.

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening… I’m not the murderer, I’m not… this is not my fault!” Richy mutters before proceed to run away to the forest.

“Where are you going?” I try to get up and yell at him but neither of those things I can do. My voice is hoarse because of the strangulation I just had and my stomach is stabbed with my own weapon. This supporting character is getting really bad situation right now. Dear God above there, you are such a sadistic writer, don’t you think? Putting me in this miserable scene when no one here to save me?

I giggle thinking about it, but even my laugh didn’t help but hurt me so bad. I’m carefully lying on the ground and staring at the sky above me. Now, what should I do? Waiting for my own death while star gazing? But there are not stars at all, only the moon that is hiding behind the night’s clouds. Why tonight’s sky looks so sad and lonely?

I cannot allow you to put yourself in danger.

My ears suddenly rung with those words, I scoff remembering when Jake keeps saying that thing in every risky situation. Both of us are just two stubborn people who willing to die for each other. And it looks like that I’m finally the winner. I think I’m the winner.

“I’m so stupid, I should take defence class.” I shut my eyelids tight, preventing to let the tears stream down on my face. But I failed, so I just let myself started crying. Quietly. In the middle of this unknown place. All by myself.

Waiting for who will come first… my death or the person I deem important?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood mc #duskwood jake #duskwood family #everbyte game #everbyte studios

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butterysalt · 4 years ago

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I’m Not Going Anywhere | Sherlock x Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: After John beats up Sherlock for being gone for the past two years, you help tend to his wounds back at Baker Street.

Word Count: 1,405

Contains: Slight post-Reichenbach angst, injury

A/N: Other fics are in the works I swear,,, Creative energy is at a small low right now. But I still wanted to be somewhat active so I pulled this one from the old archives. Personally, this one isn’t a favorite of mine. Hope you’ll enjoy either way. :)

You and Sherlock took a cab back to Baker Street. The flat still needed to be cleaned up after sitting idle for so long. The occasional sheets of dust that weren't cleaned by Mrs. Hudson remained thick on the surfaces of shelves and furniture. Generally everything there was left untouched. No one could bear to see themselves throw any of it out. A part of Sherlock Holmes lived within everyone whether or not he was still around.

You briskly wiped down the old green couch with your hand and led Sherlock to sit on it. He groaned lowly in pain as he carefully leaned back into the cushions. You frowned watching Sherlock’s sore expression. His eyes were shut tight and he hissed quietly, an arm clutching his ribs.

John did quite a number on him. It was your job to watch over him while Sherlock was gone but you supposed that no amount of pampering and comfort could bring anyone complete peace after losing their best friend — someone that meant so much to John. But you didn’t doubt that Mary would help bring him around with time. They were Holmes and Watson after all. They always figured it out no matter how much they’d like to deny it.

Sherlock eventually opened his eyes again and found you staring. He made an effort to straighten his back and relax his face as best as he could in his condition. He flashed a sarcastic smirk. His voice came out quiet and tired. “Don’t worry. I’ve looked worse.” There was that infamous wittiness you remembered so dearly.

You fought back the smile trying to creep on your face and shook your head at him. You went to the bathroom to grab some first-aid supplies. You returned to the living room with a bowl of cold water, some towels, and a first-aid kit. With everything on the coffee table beside the couch, you just stood in front of him expectantly. No words had to be exchanged for him to understand that you were waiting for his permission to help him. He smiled a little at your old habit. Always the sweetheart. Sherlock nodded lightly and you sat yourself down on a soft spot next to the detective.

His eyes followed your hands as you wrung out a small towel in the water. You dabbed the cold cloth along his long face, being sure to avoid touching the cuts and green bruises. Sherlock inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and relaxing under your care. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach seeing how calm he was with your touch. How he could fully trust you and be himself in your proximity.

Even when he was wounded and struggling to keep himself together, his mind was still racing as fast as ever. You swore you could hear how loud his thoughts were bouncing around in his head. Suddenly, the curly-haired man sighed heavily, “I thought I told you to take care of him when I left.” He was referring to John.

“I did, Sherlock.”

“Not well enough, surely,” he perked his eyebrow and immediately winced from it. You blew air in your face, huffing at his comment. “I did the best someone could do when their friend disappeared off the face of the earth for two years.” Sherlock was silent hearing this. Afraid you had struck a nerve, you scanned his face, searching for any signs of vulnerability. But he looked overall unconcerned so you decided to continue.

“He has been quite well, actually, aside from tackling you at dinner. He met Mary a few months ago and really felt something special with her… He was actually trying to propose tonight,” you said pointedly, pausing your sanitizing to give him a sharp look. Although his eyes were still shut, his lip twitched from the feeling of your gaze.

“John hasn’t been the same as before but let’s face it, no one is. We’ve all been doing the best we can; I’ve been doing the best I can.” The subtle shaking in your voice didn’t fly past him. It was safe to say that he was a big reason for your internal disturbance. He peeked an eye open and analyzed your expression.

You were focused solely on taking care of his injuries. Your brows furrowed down in concentration and your jaw clenched and unclenched ever so often. In your eyes, you were troubled. Conflict flashed and swirled within them but Sherlock could see how you suppressed those thoughts.

He knew you spent these last two years blocking out everything and marching forward. All this effort to keep yourself functioning. To keep living each day one second at a time. If it were otherwise, you would have cracked under the overwhelming pressure a long time ago. Anyone would do so. And yet here you were, still putting others before yourself like always.

Your hand accidentally brushed the cotton pad over his cheekbone. He hissed sharply and pulled his head away. You mumbled a quiet apology, “Sorry.” Your gentle hands carefully caressed his face and pushed his hair away. Along the way, you ran your fingers through his wavy locks. Sherlock leaned into your hand from the sensation.

He was reminded of how much he missed your tenderness. No matter how many harsh jabs you tried to throw at him, you were too good for him. It was a known fact to Sherlock — and one he did not choose to argue with.

His pale hand trailed along your waist as you leaned forward to patch up his wounds. Your mind was too busy to register his fond touch. Sherlock absentmindedly messed with the material of your clothes. He was soon engrossed in the feeling of the fabric wrinkling under his rough fingertips. You were still wearing your formal attire from the restaurant and Sherlock had to admit, it was a good look on you.

“You clean up nicely,” he commented. His soft tone shook you out of your immersive state. You pulled your hands away from his cuts and looked at him, baffled. “Was that a compliment I heard?” Sherlock made a small smirk and shrugged. You narrowed your eyes down at him. “...Odd hearing that from you.”

“I’m a changed man.” He smiled at you and you willingly returned it. The detective was all patched up now but you found yourself resistant to leaving that spot on the couch. Sherlock was humming deeply under the slow circles of your fingertips in his hair. You felt your chest heaving up and down as your eyes flickered along his beautiful features in the room’s dim lighting. You were his peace as he was yours. “You have no idea how much I've missed seeing your annoying face.”

“Well that's not a very good compliment,” he mumbled, on the brink of falling into a sweet slumber from your ministrations. You snorted at his casual humor, trailing your fingers around his jaw. “Yep. Definitely missed that.” He grinned in response and covered your warm hand with his, getting lost in your eyes.

You continued to trace his features, delicately dancing around his wounds. Sherlock’s colourful eyes pierced through you and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were blown, dilated. You could feel the vibrations of his heart pulsing through his body and over to yours when you touched him. The way he remembered to stop and breathe and all the tension in his body left when you were with him. And that’s when the realization finally settled in.

Sherlock is back. It's really him. A tear slipped from your eyes and a strangled noise gurgled in your throat. You pressed a hard kiss on his hand and curled up into his chest. He was shocked, jumping at first, startled by your sudden movement.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around your figure and rubbed your back comfortingly. He hushed you, now being the one to run his fingers through your hair. “I really did miss you, Sherlock,” you hopelessly cried into his shoulder. “It’s been so long. I’ve been so worried, you idiot.” You weakly pushed his chest but ultimately ended up hugging him.

He smiled admirably at you, pulling back briefly to return a kiss of adoration on your forehead. Then he pulled you tighter into his form, holding you more securely as he whispered into your ear. “It’s alright. I’m home now. I'm not going anywhere.”

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #sherlock imagine #sherlock drabble #sherlock #sherlock holmes #angst #old writing #drabble

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kyloswarstars · 4 years ago

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ROOMMATES • Part 8

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.7k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The day in the zoo was sad and great and irritating and left you with a faint emptiness. Eric kept a physical distance ever since. His hand didn’t brush yours randomly when you met in the hallway. He didn’t stand close to you at the check out when you went grocery shopping together. His feet didn’t accidentally pump into yours under the dining table when you had the roommate gatherings. He didn’t sat down next to you on the balcony, he didn’t bump into you when you got out of the bathroom and he certainly did not press his side to yours anymore. His thigh, his arm, his shoulder wasn’t burning against yours, the magnetising pull just eradicated as if you had never felt it at all.

Your bodies didn’t touch anymore and that made sure that none of all those times, you had wondered if it had been on accident, had been on accident. It had always been on purpose. Eric had wanted to be close and now he didn’t want to anymore. And the weirdest thing of it all was that you still wanted to be close.

The weeks went by. Chicago finally decided that it was time for all the stuffy air to vanish. With one big, biblical doomsday thunderstorm the sky cleared itself with heavy rain and sent all the heat it had held to the future. Stored it for next summer. It was still warm, still summer but it slowly came closer to its end, moving on from the start, moving on from you moving into this apartment.

You stared at the walls in the night. There was still the knocking. Every single night, his knuckles morsed ‚GN‘ and you returned it. That was the closest your hands got – six inches divided by a wall.

While Eric remained this physical distance, his eyes didn’t stop staring at you. And lacking his side pressed against yours in the most random situations, you stared right back. Whenever you sensed his eyes on you, you were drawn to them immediately. As if the magnet had been shoved into them, now that is wasn’t in your thigh anymore.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. A good mantra to repeat when you worked on the study. For a few days you had to repeat it almost every minute to concentrate. But the more time, days and then eventually weeks passed, it got easier. Peter had still been on your mind now and then but he just wasn’t worth it. And, even without Eric stating the obvious back at the zoo, you knew it. It was summer break still, but as soon as the new semester would start, there would be no time to think about a guy anymore. Not about Peter and not about Eric.

With that you fully regained the realistic side of your mind. You concentrated on your beloved constant in life called mathematics. You tidied your room, threw out stuff you didn’t need anymore. You made pizza with Eric for all the roommates, he didn’t press himself next to you at the countertop but instead let you knead the dough on your own. Eric occasionally searched for a conversation and it was all still very sincere, way too friendly for the guy who had argued with you for more than two years in your classes. But no. physical. contact.

Reality. You focused on it and decided it was time to call your brothers. During the summer break your contact always faded a little, giving the fact that Cole had to be at every party, Levi saving his ass and leading a group of volunteers at the sea turtle rescue centre and you being wrapped up in whatever went through your mind.

It surprised you that both of them actually accepted the video call. Instant homesickness greeted you. Especially from Levi’s window. He was sitting in the kitchen, your mom cooking dinner in the background.

„Honey!“ She blurted over the boiling pots. Levi didn’t even have the chance to say hello. Cole, in his window, rolled his eyes. „Didn’t I and your father tell you to at least text once a week? So we know you didn’t fall of the earth’s surface, yet?“

She joked a little but you heard the seriousness in her voice. And it instantly made you feel guilty, knowing very well that a simple one word ‚alive‘ message would be enough for them. And you didn’t know why it was so hard for you to simply do that.

„I pledge improvement.“ You promised and tried to stick to it this time.

„Levi, move! Before dad comes around and threatens Y/N to fly up there every week to make sure she’s okay.“ Cole was laughing and Levi left the kitchen on his order.

„So you are alive,“ Levi stated. With him and Cole it wasn’t that much guilt anymore. Still a little but less than with your parents.

You affirmed and then lead the conversation in a different direction, tricked them into telling you about their summers without having to talk about yours.

Cole got drunk every second day, Levi got his ass home whenever he couldn’t walk straight anymore. No surprise. Levi gave a detailed report about the current numbers of turtle nests and the amount of baby turtles they expected to hatch. It was Levi’s first summer break since he had started college. Instead of freaking out like Cole and running to every beach gathering he could find, he sticked to be the responsible volunteer he was and cared for the turtle protection. It made you proud. Cole, was still on the team too. Only on the afternoons, though. After he had slept off his hangover and before he made sure to get a new one.

Brothers.

At the end of the call your dad fetched Levi’s phone, who sat on the porch by now, and stared at you for a second. He wasn’t as carefree anymore. A few years ago he would just blurb about everything that came to his mind. Now, he thought more about the things he said and what to hold back.

„You need more sleep, honey,“ he said, looked at you with a caring smile and ended the call. I know.

Shortly after the beeping of your phone, indicating the finished call, a knock on your door made you turn to it. By now you could tell apart your roommates by the rhythm of their knocking.

„Are you ready for the store?“ Eric peeked his head in and you wanted to say no but couldn’t. The golden rules of this household were sacred.

„Yes,“ you said instead and followed him outside to his car, parked right in front of the building. A rare parking spot – luck had to be fully on your side to find it free.

Uncomfortable memories of going to the grocery store and the aftermath of it accompanied you once again. This time, nothing would happen, you told yourself. No-one would see you and even if someone did, there was no chance for Peter to reach out to you again. Every possibility had been eliminated by Eric and you.

Eric pushed the cart, you loaded everything in. No blueberry fight, pizza wasn’t on the menu tonight and chocolate pretzels were fully stocked. No repeating of that awful day!

Eric came to stand next to you in front of the snack shelf, within a good distance of course. He grabbed a huge bag of chips, threw it in the cart and waited for you to continue. You stared at the chips in the cart.

„Not on our shopping list,“ you mumbled and almost would’ve returned them to the shelf but Eric grabbed the bag in time to save it from your hands.

„We will need it later,“ he said, his lips pulled in a honest smile.

„Why? What is later?“

He still held the bag of chips with one hand and pushed the cart down the aisle with the other. When he passed you, he dramatically stared at you for a second. „Big time cinema!“

Eric’s silly wide eyes made you laugh – and wish for his arm to actually brush you by accident. Just this one time. It didn’t. He was adamant to not touch you.

/////

With ‚big time cinema’ he meant Toy Story. So it was indeed big time cinema. And big was also the fact that you found yourself watching a movie. With Eric. In his bed. His laptop on his desk played the movie, you laid next to each other, backs propped on a lot of pillows and the bag of chips between you. He didn’t touch you and that gap between you could easily fit Christina if she was there.

At first you shook your head at his suggestion to watch a movie with him in his room. When he went for a good old debate on why you shouldn’t, you surrendered and hoped the dining table full of roommates didn’t make any remarks. No-one did. Christina only wiggled her eyebrows and hid her grin behind a spoon full of veggies.

But now you were here, on Eric’s bed, wearing some joggers and a hoodie and laughed at the screen whenever Rex the tyrannosaur had something to say.

„As a kid I always wondered if my own toys were alive as well when I wasn’t around.“ Eric mumbled with some chips in his mouth.

„Same,“ you whispered. „I wanted them to be real so bad!“

„Right? I wanted my toy cars to be real so they could drive to the kitchen and get me snacks.“ A single chip has fallen down on the way from the bag to his face. You were fast to steal it from the mattress and shove it in your mouth.

Eric turned to you, gasped and whispered in fake consternation: „Don’t you dare!“

You laughed once more. „I remember you saying that we will need this bag of chips. Not only you.“

He was quick to drop it and smiled at you as he placed the bag in the gap between you again. After having a huge bowl of veggies with noodles you still managed to kill the whole bag of chips with Eric. He was a little sad when he stared into the empty bag. He crumpled it up and tossed it into a corner of the room.

The positive side of running out of chips was the newfound silence and therefore finally understanding every word that was spoken in the movie.

„How are you, Y/N?“

There his question was again. In the zoo wasn’t the only and last time he asked. He kept asking whenever he pleased. And he wanted you to answer sincerely, you knew that. And you did, every time. The first time in long that you answered that question in full honesty. And he did as well, whenever you applied the question on him.

It was a lot easier now to answer him. „I feel good.“

„Yeah?“

„Yeah,“ you turned to see his face, the movie still playing in the background but of no importance for the moment. „I feel more like myself again. I understand now that my troubled thoughts about Peter are not worth it. That he’s not worth it but I am. I don’t care about him anymore. Not one tiny bit.“

Your words made his tensed face ease up a little. His lungs let out a breath he must have held. „Good,“ he smiled. He smiled and smiled and smiled. Then he turned to face his laptop again.

„What about you? How are you?“

„I feel more than good now,“ he stated which made you feel even better.

The movie continued playing. Woody and Buzz fought at the gas station. They eventually fell out of the car and were left behind. You were partially concentrating on the scenes, the Pizza Planet truck, when you noticed Eric’s hand moving closer to yours. Your hand, as well as his, was laying flat on the mattress. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it coming closer in ultra slow motion. Did he think you wouldn’t notice? Did he think you would scare away if he moved his hand faster? What did he think?

You took smaller breaths and tried to concentrate only on the movie but Eric’s hand was still getting closer. It was closer than your knuckles at night, when they knocked ‚good night’. Your eyes shifted between the screen, his hand, your hand. All while you didn’t turn your head. This stupid little heart inside of your chest quickened. It activated the butterflies in your stomach, sent them flying through your whole body. Excitement over the almost physical contact was rushing through you.

When his pinky spread out and ever so slightly brushed yours, he waited. For you to draw back, to possibly shout at him for what he was doing. You didn’t. You didn’t look at him, knowing very well that Eric wasn’t looking at the movie on his laptop at all. He kept his finger steady against yours, didn’t dare to move it or to breathe. You didn’t breathe either. Instead you linked your little finger with his, tying them like a knot.

Both of you exhaled at the same time. No one said a word. You still stared at the movie and sensed Eric’s head returning to the screen as well. All the butterflies gathered in your hand and made it tingle. They demanded for more. More than this simple but electrifying knot of your pinkies.

You couldn’t bring yourself to take his full hand, though. A million thoughts were running through your brain and all of them were leading back to this tiny touch. You were scared he would break the physical contact again if you searched for more. Unsure as to why he even had closed the gap and reached out after weeks of adamantly making sure no accidental body contact happened.

You were irritated. And you were… happy. And you stopped breathing once more. Eric stopped your train of thoughts abruptly.

He started to intertwine his fingers with yours. Just the way he had tried to in the furniture store. Back then you had drawn back but this time you didn’t. You welcomed his fingers between yours. When they were perfectly locked in place, you squeezed them shortly, causing Eric to sigh in relief. He grabbed onto your hand and held it tight, not giving you the choice of letting go anymore. Never would you have let go of his big hand entangled with yours. This pure feeling of holding his hand almost made you burst because it silenced the oppressing feeling of homesickness. It captured those butterflies and turned them into a vibrant, positive version of that doomsday thunderstorm from a few days ago. If holding hands could make you feel that way… what would a kiss feel like then?

That thought made your head turn to look at him. You just stared at him as he watched the movie with a grin on his lips. When the closing credits appeared on the screen, reflecting in his eyes, Eric turned to you again.

„I don’t want to leave just yet,“ you said, not really sure why this honest admittance sent heat to your cheeks.

„Okay,“ he whispered and leaned forward to start Toy Story 2 without letting go of your hand. When he pushed himself back into the pillows, he entirely closed the space between your bodies this time. He placed the bundle of hands that wouldn’t let go off each other, on his abdomen and just like that you laid next to each other. His thumb brushed over yours while the second movie unfolded in front of you. A smile was chiseled into your face. You noticed Eric shifting at some point and placing the bundle of hands on his chest. You noticed the movie's noises fainting after a while, your eyelids grew heavy. A wave of Eric’s sent was pushed over, calming you and dragging you into a sheltered sleep.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

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stressedoutcanary · 4 years ago

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Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 3]

What this includes: Violence, a combo of angst and fluff, and just to be on the safe side I’d say language.

Word count: 3.1k

A/N😋: I am so glad it’s finally finished, now it won’t be sitting in my drafts staring at me all day. Also forgive me for any mistakes, half of it is written at 3 AM

Part 1 , Part 2

•°•°•°•°

“This is it”, you breathed out, stopping your bike near a bush making sure that place was obscure enough. You placed the helmet on the handle and hopped off the bike. After taking a few steps forward and scouting the area, you clicked your comms back on.

“O care to give me the layout of what I am getting myself into, ‘cause we all know the last time didn’t go so well”

“Nightwing said you might call me for backup and now I owe him 20 uggh! Anyways onto the problem at hand, I’m picking up a few heat signatures from the basement area and the schematics of the building indicate a vent on the other side which might help you get in.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

There was no reply on the other end and you assumed she was looking into it. To your bad luck, it was far from it. You heard an all too familiar grunt and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting that it was an open line.

“(Y/N), I thought I made myself clear”, Bruce’s modulated voice came through which low-key made you want to strangle him with your bare hands.

“Oh come on B! Didn’t Alfred teach you that listening in on other people’s conversations is bad manners”

“We are 10 minutes out you will not be going in till we get there”

‘Like Hell I won’t’

“Hello? B? Your voice is breaking up. I can’t hear you! there is some interference in the signal. Batman?”

“Don’t- ” you clicked the comms off before he could finish his sentence and breathed a sigh of relief. ”Note to self after what you just did, avoid showing your face to anyone in the fam for at least a week.”

Snooping around, you came across the vent Babs told you about and you smirked to yourself, “Bless those idiots who decided to make an excess amount of vents throughout Gotham, plus no dumbass to shoot open the lock on any door, huh I’d say it’s going pretty good for me.”

After going through a very, very dusty vent, you silently dropped down to floor behind a goon and cleared your throat to draw his attention. As soon as he turned around, his jaw was met with your right hook, making him plummet to the ground. Grabbing him by the collar you inched closer to his face, which was yet again fully covered by a white mask.

“Alright no-face, tell me where Pyg is right now”, you made use of your deep modulated voice, making the man dart his eyes towards the far right corner of the room. You knew what that meant and without wasting any more time, you knocked him out and scurried over, finding a heavy door at the end. Somehow managing to push open the door, you were faced with a circular stairwell leading down.

“Well Oracle did say she got heat signatures down in the basement.”, you sighed and started taking calculated steps, making sure to check for any traps. ‘Why keep only one person to guard your supersecret creep-house? Either Lazlo is way too overconfident or way too crazy... Probably both.’, you thought, wheels turning in your head, hoping to make sense of the situation. As you went down, you could catch a faint sound of music. ‘Is that Opera?! Well at least it fits his M.O.’

The end of the stairwell opened into a large room. You hid behind one of wooden crates as your mind swiftly accessed the grim ambience; Pyg was sharpening his knife swaying along with opera music playing in the background but Jason was nowhere to be found. Your breath hitched and your blood ran cold, it felt as if the world around you was spinning.

‘What if... what if it’s too late’ Crouching down on the ground with your back to the crate your took in several deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t think like that, not when you’re so close. You wiped the stray tear which escaped the tightness of your cowl and had trailed down your cheek. You tried to focus instead of jumping to conclusions.

You frowned upon noticing something odd on the wall in front of you, placing your palms on it, you gave it a slight push. To your surprise it paved way for an attached corridor which clearly didn’t come up in the schematics Oracle told you about. You slipped into the corridor, making sure that nobody saw you. Your feet froze for a slight second on the sight you were met with; cages like prison cells lined up in a row with people inside of them.

“The people who went missing”, you whispered to yourself, still reeling in the shock of it all. Upon hearing a familiar groan you sprinted across the pathway to the source, eyes scanning every inch of the person you found, the person you were here to rescue. You fumbled with the lock for a while, muttering curses under your breath until it clicked open. You dashed to his side and took a batarang out to cut the binds he was in.

“Jay if you die on me again, I swear I will kill you.”

“Been there, done that princess and honestly not a fan of it”, Jason croaked out, his reply came out weaker and voice barely above a whisper. It made your heart clench in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. You lifted your head up, you gave him a soft smile, gently brushing off the matted hair on his forehead,

“Jason I..”

‘Just tell him you love him you coward, It’s really not that hard’

“Jason I’m glad you’re okay”, you blurted out in way which was far from normal but he seemed way too tired to noticed.

‘COWARD’

“How did you get free?”, he inquired, thankfully interrupting your internal yelling.

“I didn’t? I literally just walked in here to get you out.”

“But I thought-”, Jason looked utterly confused as he rubbed his wrists to ease the pain caused by the rope.

“Well long story short. You got captured. I was saved by Harley and Ivy, had a nice chat with them, and then I might have been responsible for Batman’s high blood pressure, and then I emotionally blackmailed Nightwing into giving me your location and then here I am”

“Wha...Yeah I will just pretend I totally understand whatever the hell you just said.”, Jason sighed, he tried to stand up but his feet wobbled and if it wasn’t for you catching him on time h would’ve staggered to the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mmhmm”, he hummed lightly leaning his weight on you. “Just a little dizzy, probably from the dehydration, It could also be because of the blood loss from the stab wound I got”

“The WHAT?!”, you looked at him like he was crazy.

“Oh yeah I think I kinda forgot to tell you that the creepy dude tried to cut me open but my armor got in the way so he stabbed me instead and went away saying he had to sharpen his knife or something like that”, he started to slur and you knew you had to get him back to the cave as quickly as possible. You helped him get up on his feet, slinging one of his arms over your shoulders and wrapping one of your arms around his waist.

“Oh my God! Jay, you don’t just bring this sort of thing up in casual conversation!”, you shook your head and started taking small steps with him towards the way you came from. Suddenly a loud crash was heard followed by a couple of screams making the both of you share a nervous glance.

“What was that?”

“Only one way to find out”, you said as you walked through the door back into the large room.

It was pure chaos, more like a free-for-all. Nightwing jogged up to you.

“We did say we were 10 minutes out didn’t we?”, he gave you a bright smile and swung Jason’s free arm over his shoulder to help you support him better.

“Good, now since you are here, hold him”, you shifted Jason’s weight towards Dick.

“Hey-”

“Don’t even”, he glared daggers at his elder brother, “What are you even doing? I feel like a baby being passed around”

You ignored Jason’s whining in the background and fixed your gaze on the one person in the room who would soon face your wrath. The rest had already cleared up the goons and Pyg was the only one left. You narrowed your eyes and cracked your knuckles, making your way over to him.

By the time you reached Pyg he was already backing away from Batman and one murderous looking Robin, turning around he tried to make a run for it but was ultimately met with your fist, a sickening crack was heard and no one was quite sure whether it was from his mask, his jaw or both. Pyg was out cold and you shrugged at the duo in front of you while Dick and Jason made their way over.

“Remind me never to get on her bad side ever again.”, Jason whispered as both the boys looked completely terrified of you. You walked over to Bruce and held out your hand. He didn’t seem to catch the drift, for being the world’s greatest detective, he was quite dumb sometimes.

“The keys to the batmobile, unless you want Mr. surprise-I-got-stabbed over here to bleed out.”

After placing Jason into the passenger seat you hopped into the driving one.

“Also there are people in the back, you know, the missing ones, so good luck with the clean up I guess.”, you called out before before closing the hood of the batmobile.

You were on the road heading straight for the cave when you realized Jason wasn’t answering your questions anymore.

“Jason?”, you stole a glance at him and he was as pale as a ghost, “Shit!”, you yelled as you jammed your foot on the accelerator.

•°•°

Jason woke up to the dull beeping of multiple monitors and by the looks of the place, he concluded he was in fact in the batcave. As he regained some control over his senses, he saw you sitting on a chair beside his bed. You were sound asleep but he could see worry etched on your face even in your slumber. Looking at you, Jason wished he had the courage to say what his heart felt instead he just went ahead taking your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze. You stirred awake at that.

“Hey! You’re up!”, you stood up abruptly and hugged him tightly. To him it felt as if you were actually afraid of what might happen if you let go of him.

“I told you I don’t do dying anymore. It sucks.”

You finally pulled away from him, a smile tugging at your lips. Jason glanced at your hand, taking it in his once again, he ran his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“I knew you had a mean right hook, guess I just forgot how mean”, Jason said smirking at you. You didn’t pull away from him as he had expected in his head instead you just scoffed at the statement.

“The next time you forget that, allow me to give you a reminder by demonstration Bird-Brain”, you called him by the name you often used back then. At first it was to annoy your very annoying best friend but then it stuck around but hadn’t used that nickname ever since he came back. You both realized that. A silence fell over the once playful conversation, his eyes found the celling and yours found your lap. After a while you cleared you throat to get his attention and he looked at you, his expressions were borderline unreadable.

“Jason I-I should go now, but don't worry I’ll get Alfred back here”, You got up and moved towards the door of the med-bay, scrunching your eyes shut you released a shaky breath.

‘It’s now or never (Y/N)’

“Jason when you get better, there is this place I have been meaning to take you to, with me of course.”

“Sure I’ll go”

“So tomorrow sounds good?”

“Tomorrow sounds good”, he repeated after you breaking into a grin. Your cheeks flushed and you had to take a sharp turn to hide the blush on your face. You mentally smacked yourself for behaving like a teen asking her crush out on a date for the first time.

•°•°

The next night Jason met you on the roof of the Wayne tower.

“Please tell me this isn’t the place you wanted to see with me”, he chuckled behind you and you turned around to give him a quick hug.

“It’s not that bad of a place, plus I can throw you off here too if you get on my nerves”, you laughed at his faux scandalised face.

“You wound me”

“In case you forgot you are already wounded, drama queen, plus its your lucky day, this is not where we will be spending our evening. Just follow me and don’t get lost on the way”, you winked and jumped off the edge, him following the suit.

When you both reached the place you had in mind, the place Jason cherished when he was Robin, the expression on his face was priceless. It was like a mixture of awe and surprise with a hint of sadness.

“How did you find out about this?”, Jason inquired after a while of reminiscing.

“Gee how indeed, ‘cause it cannot be the fact that I am detective who’s life is influenced by at least a dozen detectives and it’s most definitely not the fact that for me, you aren’t that difficult to figure out”

“Touché”

Jason chuckled at your usual playful sarcasm, his eyes were twinkling with something which felt more than just momental adoration and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile of your own. You made your way over to him, looking at the visible skyline for a brief moment, Jason watched as you sat down on the ledge with your legs dangling off, patting the space beside you gestured him to join you.

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here for a while, so might as well sit down and get comfortable”, you shrugged as he nodded and sat down beside you, placing his elbow on his bent knee. You both enjoyed the few minutes of comfortable silence, watching cars pass by below and the moon lit starry sky above.

“I am starting to see why you liked it here”

“Yeah...”

“Alfred told me”

“Huh?”, Jason looked at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words.

“After you...were gone, Alfred told me, he told me that this was your happy place, though I still can’t believe you had a favorite gargoyle”, stifling a laugh you somehow managed to continue, “Anyway so as I saying, ever since I found out about it, I used to come here every night when I got free from patrol, come to think of it I still do, sometimes”

You could feel his heavy gaze boring into you making you immediately regret bringing up this conversation.

“Why?”, he finally inquired. You didn’t know whether to feel relived or be tense, but it was now or never, releasing a shallow breath you glanced at him, words flowing out on their own accord.

“Even back then I knew everyone dies at some point and all we can do is try and find some meaning in it, in the memories they leave behind and I guess me wanting to be here, it was a part of me trying to do that and it made me feel somewhat connected to you so I kept doing it; Coming here, spending any time I could spare and leaving before the crack of dawn and before I knew it, it had become a habit.”

“So you did miss me”, he gave you a sad smile and wrapped his hand around your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze.

“Of course I did you dumbass, I was best friend.”, you gave him a nudge and leaned your cheek on his chest, sighing deeply.

“The reason I avoided you after you came back was because I was scared”, you whispered, hoping it would sound less real that way. Jason pulled back a bit to take in your features and you could hear the strain in his voice, a hint of sadness in it.

“Scared of me?”

“Jason I wasn’t scared of you, I can never be, I was scared for you. I was afraid of losing you again. Every time you come back I lose you all over again and I am honestly tired of it and I thought that maybe if I kept my distance I--”

“Won’t get hurt again?”

“Yeah, something like that”

A moment passed where no one spoke anything, both of you running the scenarios of what might happen next in your brains. An idea clicked in your head and you abruptly got to your feet startling Jason in the process. Offering him your hand and a sheepish smile, you got him to his feet.

“I am tired of being scared Jason. I want this. I want us and for that I am willing to take a chance, are you?”, he stepped closer to you, his scent invading your senses.

“For you (Y/N), anything. You should know that by now, plus I feel the same way, I have for a while now”, Jason breathed out as he pulled you in for a deep kiss leaving you dizzy for a while after you pulled away for air. Placing your foreheads together, you found yourselves grinning like idiots yet again in the two successive nights. Jason’s stomach growled, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Hungry?”

“You really gotta ask?”, raising an eyebrow, he tried to look offended but ultimately melted against you as you pressed your lips on his for a brief moment.

“I know a place”, you murmured, lips brushing against his and before he could register what was happening you already had a grapnel gun in your hands, smirking as you jumped off the ledge.

“Last one there is a rotten egg hoodie!!”

“Hey! But I don’t even know where it is!”

“Not my fault Bird-Brain!”

Jason jumped on after you, smiling to himself. Both of you were thinking the same thing ‘maybe this was finally the start of a new chapter; something new, something scary and something beautiful altogether’

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @ladyperceval

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sinisterlyhan · 4 years ago

Text

02.5. bang chan / 5497 words

dom!chan who goes soft because he loves mc, fluff, daddy kink that stopped mid-way, a little size kink + corruption kink, virgin!female reader, unprotected sex but reader is on birth control, the littlest amount of cockwarming at the end

chan's eyes have gone darker. it was different than the gaze you saw when you were still kneeling between his knees with an incredible size in your mouth. it was smug back then, a flicker of triumph washing over with each blissful lick of your tongue.

they were more mature now, the inky blackness of his eyes an intriguing storm you somehow felt as ease looking into. it was enticing—chan was enticing.

the way he could look as if he was completely ready to devour you whole, to give you the best fuck of your life, but he would also make sure each part of you would be taken care of with the utmost attention and respect was beyond your imagination.

he brought you up from the ground, his torso leaning down so he could place his hand on your waist. effortlessly, he hoisted you up with your help and set you down on his lap, your legs straddling his abdomen where his shaft shamelessly poked at your entrance.

chan could see the way your eyes swirled with excitement you didn't know how to express properly. and while it was, undeniably, adorable, it was ultimately a very huge turn-on for him to see you so helpless in such dirty desires unless prompted to speak and act by him.

he smiled, it was not so much a soft smile but a mockingly degrading one. he stroked your cheek then, his thumb traveling to your mouth pressing against your lower lip, dragging it down until a whimper left your lips when he glided his thumb between your teeth.

"oh, baby girl." he admired the way your tongue curled around his tongue, your teeth trying hard not to accidentally clamp down on his skin. his cum was still staining your lips, and he pushed the taste against your tongue to clean it up. "you are basically useless without daddy's help, aren't you?"

your hands flew up to grab his wrist, your verbal agreement came out strangled because of the way his thumb was forcing your mouth open. gentle praises left his lips when he soon removed his finger, his eyes fixed on trail of saliva.

and that was when he leaned in to kiss you, his plump lips eager and delicious. you reciprocated immediately, your eyes shutting tight and your hands flying up to grip his shoulders for support.

oh, chan had wanted this for so long. years after years, he waited for the day he could wipe those lipsticks off your face like this. albeit, you were not wearing any at the moment, but the faint taste of honey chapstick was good enough for him.

a moan escaped to his mouth when he brought his hands to your ass and guided you to grind down on his length. you could feel his shape with your heat, a sensation much more different than when you could feel his size in your mouth. chan continued to push you down on him, finding it hard to stop himself as his arousal started to drip from his chest again.

oh, but cumming from this would be such a waste if the real thing was only two thin fabrics away.

pulling away from your mouth, his lips attached to your jaw as he kissed you up your face before leaning close to your ear. a whisper left his lips, causing your moans to cease and a shudder to run down your sensitive veins.

"can i make you feel good?"

you tightened your grip on his shoulders and nodded, "yes."

"full sentence, baby girl," he warned, giving your ass a squeeze.

"yes–yes. i want daddy to make me feel good, plea–please." you said shyly, not daring to look in his eyes as a blush crept onto your cheek.

chan couldn't even bring himself to scold you for not making eye-contact at this point. even the way you stutter out your desire overwhelmed his senses, the affection blossoming in his chest made him both want to pepper sweet kisses all over your face and fuck you so relentlessly that euphoria becomes the only emotion you could feel.

and so he acted on his affection. he took your shirt off in a blink of an eye, throwing it on the floor somewhere as his eyes landed on your perky breasts. he stared at it, adoring the way they simply sit so perfectly before him, then he allowed himself to touch you after leaning in to catch your lips again.

chan's hands have never been more ghostly than before.

ghostly not in a way where his hands were cold and unsettling. his big hands were attractively rough and warm, covering all surfaces of your neck and your breasts when he clamped over them after asking for permission through a delicate touch.

he was twisting and pulling at your nipples, pinching lightly and flicking them like little toys. and it was a fascinating feeling, like a serotonin boost, to have your boobs be fondled and paid such delicate interest to because masturbating had only given your breasts the aid of one hand and about fifty percent of your concentration.

"sit up," chan commanded after he pulled away.

you did as he told, bringing yourself up and waiting patiently as he pulled your shorts and your panties down, revealing your naked body to him fully. he leaned back to give your body an overview after he helped you out of your clothes and you wanted to clamp your legs shut in embarrassment. but it seemed chan had already planned for this and therefore, placed you in such a position where your legs were spread on each side of his thighs.

"ah!" you squealed when chan brought his hand over to cup your heat, the tip of his fingers dipping into your soaked lips, and you felt yourself clench around nothing just from the expectation of having him fully shove his digits inside you.

the excitement and slight unfamiliarity of having someone else's finger get so close to a place so private were, overall, more welcomed than you thought. especially when the person was bang chan out of everyone else that could have been in this position—a kind friend, a comfortable friend, a damn sexy friend.

"can i?" he whispered, tilting his head up to look at you, his eyes careful and wide as his fingers patiently awaited your approval.

"yes, you can." you nodded in anticipation.

chan slid in two fingers from the get-go, his heart jumping faintly as you gasped an quick intake of breath and your eyes rolled up to stare at the ceiling, like you were trying to understand the blissful feeling his mere fingers were creating for you.

he went slow, sliding in and out of your heat, watching with intrigue as you shuddered and moaned under his touch. it was just to make sure he wasn't going too much for you the first time, and because he learned that there was a special kind of seduction from being slow and sensual during such intimate act.

it was the thoroughness of it. the idea of being so intimate with someone that you could feel them from inside out—their warmth, their tightness, their love spots. and when realize you could imprint yourself on both their body and their head on the unimaginable pleasure you made them feel? god, that just made it all the better.

it was just the right amount of affection with enough amount of possessiveness woven into the equation.

"ahh, chan—" you called, lowering your head to the nape of his neck to hide away as you felt his fingers press against your wall and gather up your slickness in a beckoning movement. the squelch of his thrusts heating up a heavy blush all over your body, you were embarrassed but so, so greedy for more as well.

he paused his movement, his brows furrowing at the sound of his name. while mindful about the fact that he has gotten quite into character, and you should be addressing him by the title established previously, he didn't hate hearing that. no, not at all.

if anything, hearing his name coming out of your mouth in such a lewd way was all he ever wanted. it aroused him, he was probably leaking from the tip at this point. it was his name that came out of your mouth and nobody else's, after all. somehow that ticked him off his possessive edge.

upon the small moment of him pausing the movements of his fingers, your impatient self has decided to take it upon yourself to feel some kind of satisfaction and started lowering yourself on his fingers, whimpering as you fucked yourself on those long digits.

chan noticed it since he could feel his fingers disappearing into your hotness ever so often. his eyes were so focused on the way your expression scrunched and you gasped with each fall of your thighs, trying so hard to get more of him inside you but also being tired from moving so much.

you weren't used to it, he could see from the stuttering of your movement, but still, your neediness overrode your inadequacy and you clawed at his shoulders to get what you wanted.

fuck, needy and useless. what would he do with you?

(a lot of things. but most of all, he wanted to fuck you so well that your brain short-circuits and his name becomes the only thing you could utter. just the word 'chan' over and over again.)

"someone is greedy, hmm?" he mused, thrust his fingers up into your core and earning a squeal from you. he leaned close to your chest then, nudging his chin against the middle of your breasts and smiling as he whispered. "but fingers are no good. let me show you the real deal."

your eyes widened in surprise when he pulled out of you and grabbed you by your waist. he tugged you down onto his lap, letting you sit on him and having your core meet the bulging of his naked shaft. you looked at him, your brows furrowing shyly as your jaw dropped in a moan when he shifted his hip so his skin ran along your slit.

chan was teasing your desire, enticing you to want more, and you did want more.

he wasn't being too rough with the humping, but he did nudge up against your heat once or twice as he guided your hips along his dick, letting your dripping essence sweeten him up thoroughly. and that—oh, the way he felt so long and big underneath you stirred up so much aching inside you; that was a sensation you have never experienced before and would likely never forget.

"chan–chan, i–" you sucked in a deep breath when you felt him stop. and when he looked up at you softly, hoping your next words would be a plead rather than a request from a sudden change of mind, you suddenly found it harder to verbalize your wants.

"i feel empty," you said instead.

he raised a brow, the previous concern gone in a second when he realized that he had made you aroused enough, to a point where you were forced to acknowledge the need to have your cunt be filled. now he was just lustful, knowing he finally got the chance to stick himself inside of you.

"huh?" he asked, lifting you up before his hand reached down to his cock. he grabbed it before directing his tip to your lips, running it up and down your slit lightly just to watch you squirm in excitement. "you want this, hmm? you want chan to fuck you?"

"y–yes." you nodded.

"full sentence, baby girl," he said again, his voice much lower upon the second warning. "you need to start using your words."

"yes, i want chan to fuck me." you whined, your legs shaking slightly at the way his kept ever so slightly poking at your entrance, threatening to insert himself but not enough to make you taste the sweetness of his stretch. "please, chan, i need you."

you gasped his name again, twice, and he licked his lower lip at the feeling it gave him.

oh god, he might have just discovered something incredible.

he hoisted you up suddenly then, and he turned you on your back as he pinned you down on the couch. he got on top after shaking his pants off completely, his lips finding yours once again for a bit of preparation.

you returned his kiss, your back arching off the couch surface when you felt his hand grip your thigh to drag them to his back. and when he once again poked his member at your entrance, he pulled away from the kiss and looked down at you.

"remember you can stop this anytime you want, okay, baby?" he said, nodding at you when you did so eagerly.

"oh wait!" you said before he could actually enter you, and you pursed your lips sheepishly when he eyed you with concern. you laughed lowly, shy and just downright loveable in his eyes. "can you take your shirt off too?"

chan huffed out a loose laugh, his eyes crinkling into bright little moons before he gladly did as you asked. your eyes shamelessly trailed down his pale body, passing this promising arms and toned chest, then to the freckles on his sides and finally his v-line.

you only broke out of your trance when he reached down to kiss the tip of your nose, laughing at you when you shook your head and stuttered to explain your staring.

god, how could you be this adorable? how could you be so loveable yet so goddamn arousing at the same time?

you bit your lower lip, giving his arms a squeeze. "sorry if i ruined the mood a little," you said. "it's just warmer like this... and i... i feel more comfortable not being the only one completely naked."

"oh no, of course not, baby." he kissed you to reassure you that everything was okay. "you are doing very well, actually. and it's never bad to say what makes you comfortable, okay?"

you looked at him, his kind eyes close and welcoming. your chest ached a little at how gently he was treating you. this swirling feeling, the kind that made you feel like you were twirling on water and flying as light as air in the clouds, this kind of safety and happiness were nothing anyone has ever given you before.

and it touched you, even more, when you knew chan could have easily just fucked into you and call it a night. he could have been so much rougher with you, focusing solely on fulfilling his own desires instead of taking the time to prioritize yours. and he could have just asked you for permissions once and neglect it, instead of asking in between multiple times and making sure you knew you had the ultimate control over this situation.

"thank you for being so patient with me when you don't have to," you croaked out then.

he broke into a soft smile, one hand reaching up to stroke your hair. somewhere down the line he almost forgot this was your first time, and that made it all the more precious to him and gave him all the more reasons to be as tender as he could with you despite that scorching hotness in his chest.

"always," he hummed, his hair falling slightly over your eyes as he leaned in to judge your nose. "unless you want otherwise then i will gladly do that as well."

you smiled, tightening your legs around his hips and pulling him to you. chan hummed in amusement, seeing that you were hinting at him to start giving you what you both wanted, and he squeezed your cheek out of pure affection before he said, "this is going to hurt a little so tell me if you want me to stop."

with a nod from you, he pushed himself into you. the first gasp came from him, surprisingly. it was a very soft gasp that he chocked out of his lips as soon as he tip brushed past your entrance and went deeper into your hole. and then yours erupted in small painful whimpers that chan tried his best to kiss away.

he was big, really big. your legs stretched and bent automatically and your hands gripped at his arms at the feeling of his dick sliding so slowly into you. chan leaned down to kiss your cheeks, his hands stroking your side and your hair to calm you down until he finally bottomed out inside of you.

the painful part was over, he thought, now he could move. but then you suddenly clenched around him on impulse, and he groaned out loud at the feeling, his hand going down to press on your tummy so you wouldn't move around so much.

"oh fuck–baby girl, you need to relax a little–"

you were tight. really, magnificently tight and small. your walls were clenching at the sudden stretch, sticking to him to both swallow him up and to keep him in place. even with the slickness of your essence. the pressure of his cock being squeezed all over was overwhelming his senses and he moaned into the crook of your neck when you suddenly relaxed and did the same thing again.

fuck, fuck, fuck! he knew he promised himself to be gentle with you, but oh, imagine the impeccable friction you two could cause if he was to fuck you fast and hard? to have your walls sticking to him every inch of the way as he desperately ruts himself into you?

how should anyone expect him to successfully hold himself back from you?

"are you feeling okay?" he asked, his voice low and moany. "because i feel fucking good, you're making me feel fucking good with how tight you are."

"y–yes, i–" you sucked in a quick breath. "chan, please move."

he hummed, taking himself out slower than wanted because your cunt was literally sucking him in place, and he moved back in just the same way; same pace and same tightness.

but that didn't mean you couldn't feel the pleasure from him rubbing against your walls. in fact, you could feel very thoroughly all that he was making you feel. his length, his girth, his strength as he thrust into you hard and slow—it was hot, it was exciting, it was mesmerizing.

your walls were slowly relaxing the more chan moved inside of you. it was starting to get easier for him to move in and out, and taking your gentle moans as verbal cues, he finally picked up his pace and started to thrust into you a bit faster.

he kissed you to drown out your moans, and also just for the sake of kissing you. the hand that still laid on your tummy from a minute ago when you were sucking him in unconsciously pressed down on your skin, and chan let out a satisfied groan against your mouth at how he could feel the little bumps of his dick with each thrust against your small body.

"ugh, you're so fucking small!" he complimented, although it did sound more like a laughable mockery than anything else. and you whined in faint agreement, liking the fact that you appeared so much tinier under his weight much more than you expected yourself to.

it was like your mind was screaming at him to manhandle you, to move you around and press you against places, which you supposed he has been, alongside taking care of you like you're his literal love.

his hand moved up to your throat and wrapped itself around it so he could use it as leverage to move faster and still pin you on the couch. you arched your back at the sudden change of speed, opening your mouth to let out a quiet and breathless moan.

and chan stared at how you threw your head back to gasp for air, his grip not loosening with how much loved hearing your choked moan mixing with the sharp intake of oxygen.

god, he wondered if it would feel the same when he fuck your throat while you laid on your back like this, his bulge taking up space and blocking the air from flowing in properly. your little mouth would do such a great job, he could already tell.

he could do that, perhaps somewhere down the line. but you couldn't handle him all right now, understandably. even then, though, with the amount that you could, you were making him feel the best he has ever experienced. imagine if chan trained you enough to take all of him, with his huge cock and his preference for a much rougher, eye-rolling, and mouth-drooling sex.

just to be able to lose himself completely and do whatever he wants with you was a thought arousing enough for him to get washed over with pleasure.

he leaned down to your neck, his hand sliding to the side to expose your skin. you widened your eyes when he licked a long strip along the middle of your throat, then he angled his head to plant a kiss on the side before he clamped his teeth down. you whined at the way his teeth grazed against your skin, sucking and leaving dots of black-purple hues.

hickeys. chan was leaving hickeys, possessively.

he wasn't sure when exactly you would be going on a date with whoever that nameless boy was, frankly he couldn't give two shits. he only cared to mark you enough that the cherry bruises would still be permanent when that boy does what he told you to be prepared for.

chan wanted that little frat boy to know someone had done something to you already, something unbelievably good and better than whatever he could provide. and he wanted these marks to remain as a memory you couldn't forget when you've got another man's dick inside you.

or just don't have anyone else inside you, chan could totally get around that as well.

"baby, i'm gonna move faster, okay?" he mumbled against your neck, kissing it when you nodded.

you hugged him to your neck, your hand squeezing the tense muscles of his back occasionally as a way to praise him aside from letting your needy voice does all the job. your feet felt up his back upon the dazed feeling of him rapidly thrusting into you, an unplanned movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.

his hand went to your thigh, pulling your leg up easily and propping it on his shoulder. and the next thrust he made after your hole has narrowed its path for him, his tip finally met the slick spot within. it was one hit, but the adrenaline rushed up to your brain, and your legs jerked at the ecstatic feeling that coursed through your veins.

"chan!"

oh he knew. he knew he found your g-spot so he had quickly held onto your leg and pressed himself against your body in order for him to ram against it repeatedly. your breasts bounced with each heavy, quick thrusts, your erected nipples poking against his hot skin and adding to the sensitivity.

to add to the sparks blasting off in your abdomen, chan moved a hand down to your clit and he pressed his fingers against it for a reaction. you gasped, and he smirked, his hand rubbing and adding pressure to the sensitive bud.

the friction was starting to sound wet and squelchy the quicker he moved in and out of your cunt. and the knot that has been building up inside you was finally taunting you of your climax, bringing soreness to your hole and making you see blurs of his face. you were close, and it was an unfamiliar feeling since you have never made yourself orgasm before.

"chan, i think i'm gonna–mmm." you pursed your lips together, unsure how to say it.

he brought his hand over to your face then, his fingers wet from turning circles on your clit previously. letting your leg fall off his shoulder, he opted to spread it out more by pressing against your inner-thigh before he snapped harshly against you once, feeling you clench around him at the impact.

"i see, does my baby want to cum?" he asked, smiling like he wasn't just trying—still trying—to bring you over the edge by pounding hard into you.

you nodded, a movement that sparked quite the infuriation when he has repeatedly told you to use your words before. frowning, chan abruptly grabbed you by the throat and mercilessly snapped his hips against yours to prove a point. he breathed into your ears then, sounding rather angry but it could also just be him trying to suppress his own sounds because of how hard you were squeezing his cock

"what did i say about using your words, baby girl?" he growled under his breath, abusing your wet hole with a massive amount of strength so he hits your spot hard.

your eyes were starting to blur at the feeling. it felt good, it was better than anything you could have done to yourself, but a part of you wanted something else. you wanted company before you lose your head and burst into a jittery climax, the kind that wasn't heavy growling and hands around your throat.

it wasn't like you were scared of orgasming. you just thought you would feel different—better—with the softer kind of intimacy when you do; it was the passion and the love you have been aching for since you knew what sex was. and you didn't want to have your years of daydreaming about interlocking hands with someone just to end up in you climaxing alone.

"chan, chan, i'm close–please–"

he wasn't responding to you, getting a little too immersed in giving you the littlest amount of punishment his heart was willing to allow for your first time. just a hint of his roughness, nothing too painful, and all he did was grunt with his head hidden at the crook of your neck, drowning in the blissful way his cock kept sliding into your wetness, engulfing him in incredible warmth.

but you thought he was mad at you for not using your words like he told you three times ago, and something about that made your chest spin with a surprising ache.

"i'm sorry, chan, i'll speak from now–ahh, i'm going to–" you mixed in an uncontrolled cry, feeling your climax nearing. your hands moved to his hand, desperately gripping at his fingers as you whimpered. "mmm–chan, please–please hold my hand."

upon hearing that, he quickly perked his head up. your mouth was opened as you let out gentle, sob-like breathes and you were looking at him with a glimmer of tears. he softened, his heart melting tragically in a moment of weakness.

"hey, hey, i'm here," he whispered, removing his hand from your neck so he could lace his fingers through yours and he placed it to the side of your head, feeling you loosely hanging on him.

"oh, my sweet baby." he kissed your eyes, hoping to get rid of the unfallen tears by letting you know his affection was all yours to keep, and then he moved down to your lips and kissed you carefully.

he continued to move, not stopping the pleasure for the world. you squeezed his hand with a moan after a moment. "oh god, i'm close, please."

"cum for me, baby girl," he broke away to say, his lips tracing the surface of yours ghostly as he increased his speed to bring you over the edge.

the intoxicating punches against your love spot pushed you off when you made eye-contact with chan, his eyes flaring with a somewhat animalistic glare. your mind spiraled into a frenzy as your toes curled and you moaned, loudly without care that anyone passing outside the apartment floor might hear you.

chan grunted at the clench, feeling your hot essence slipping between his shaft and your walls. his own high was building up, he could feel it. and when he buried his head to your chest, fucking into you so he could chase his own release, you reached your free hand to the back of his head and stroked his hair, calming yourself down.

"fuck, i'm gonna cum–are you on birth control, baby girl?"

you sucked in a breath at what he was insinuating, and you nodded. "yes, i am."

"i am going to cum inside you, okay?"

"okay," you breathed out.

chan grunted then, snapping his hips against yours a few more times before he paused. his cock pulsated, twitching as his high skyrocketed, and soon enough he released his load into your cunt with a final moan.

your cum mixed together, thick and warm around his shaft. after filling you up, he continued to rock himself into you to soothe the high down and to fuck the dripping cum back inside your hole for a while before he collapsed on top of you.

he nuzzled his cheek against your breasts, bringing your intertwined hands down to kiss the back of your palm and feeling you breathe under him. there was solace in the silence of your panting, hearing it slowly come to a peaceful halt while you both drowned in each other's embrace.

the attachment he felt towards you has only magnified during this intimate encounter. for the first time, he didn't think about rolling over to the other side after he's done, for the first time he wanted to keep being near someone, he wanted to remember how great it felt to love you with such passion and care.

"was that okay, (name)?" he asked then, looking up at you with shy anticipation.

you pursed your lips. did he need to ask? like all the clenching and the whimpering and the slickness of your walls weren't indications enough that he made your first time an absolutely phenomenal experience.

"yes, yes it was," you said softly, nodding at him. "god, i think you just boosted my standard sky high."

he laughed nervously, not quite liking the connotation behind you still having a standard. did that mean you still planned on laying with someone else? someone who wasn't him? he tightened his arms around you unconsciously at the thought.

your phone rang suddenly then, a notification popping up. releasing your hand from chan's, you reached over and flipped it up. you sighed a little in annoyance. "oh, it's him again," you said, a bit of laughter in your voice. "nice timing, right after everything."

before you could bring the phone to your face and give the boy a reply, chan lifted himself up slightly and reached over to press your hand down. he interlocked your fingers again, his face leaning close and staring into your confused eyes.

"are you really still going to go out with him?" he asked lowly, his finger drawing circles at your side. "are you still going to let him fuck you?"

"i–" you gasped in a breath, one which he kissed away.

his slowly moved his lips against yours, his teeth nibbling on your lower lip and poking a tongue into your mouth when you opened yourself completely for him. it was one hell of a kiss—passionate and sensual, slow and hot. and he made it so much more memorizing when he nudged himself against you, the tip of his cock sliding further inside and staying within.

"chan–"

"i'm gonna ask you again, baby girl." he pulled away, gently sliding into you to remind you how he felt. "are you still going to let him fuck you?"

"i..." you pursed your lips together, trying to hold back a soft whimper. "what do you want me to do then?"

"me," he replied. "just me."

you frowned at him, causing him to laugh.

"okay, okay," he said, clearing his thoughts and looking into your eyes carefully. "i... i like you, a lot. and i don't want you to be with anybody else."

you blushed, a smile blossoming on your cheeks at the confession. you tightened your grip on his hand, a fit of giggle leaving your lips. "that's... that's sudden."

"yeah, i know," he shrieked, hiding his face in your neck. you could feel his lips quirking up, and it made you feel great.

"but, uh, how about i ditch him and go on a date with you instead?" you suggested.

"that would be great." he nodded lazily.

you sighed contently then, staring up at the ceiling. and chan laid his comfortably on your shoulder, his chest heaving with yours and his cock still stuffed inside your hole.

you two were probably going to stay like this for a while.

#stray kids dark hours #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #skz dark hours

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, can i request 16 and 46 for the prompt thing with a S/o with low self steem with Bo? Please and sorry for my english 🥺🖤

OOOH ANGST!!!! I love it thank you! and honestly your English is perfect :) It’s like these 2 sentences were made for a reader x bo scenario!

So I went a little wild with this that’s why it’s a bit longer (1k plus words) but I really love how it turned out.. also Bo maybe says ‘I love you’ for the first time when he’s sober :o hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

THE KITCHEN FLOOR

WORD PROMPT: “I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me” AND “Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Today was just one of those days.

You felt your mind weigh heavy on everything you did. It badgered you every second of the day, pounding your self-esteem lower and lower with every glance in the mirror and every tug of your baggy clothes. You couldn’t escape the constant hounding and you felt almost uncomfortable sitting in your own skin; as if bugs were crawling on top of you, and as if a fire was set beneath your feet and every moment you struggled to hold yourself away from the burn.

Bo was at his dingy garage all day and Vincent was in the basement making more creations for the town, and honestly, you never knew where Lester was at any given moment but he defiantly wasn’t in the house. This left you all alone in the reticent home, just your thoughts and heartbeat. Sure you could go down to the basement to have company with Vincent, but he never liked to be disturbed while working, and you could go to the gas station but something was blocking you in the house; your demons wanted you away from the sunlight and easing voices of the people you loved, they wanted you all to themselves today. You let them win today for you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

As the sun faded behind the native Louisiana wood that surrounded Ambrose the voices became deafening, and Bo’s absence was louder than the voices at times. Skull crushing and heart aching. You didn’t care if it was his yelling or large footsteps creaking on the hardwood, you just needed to hear something else besides the twisted thoughts that were burning, and chugging along like a freight train threatening to run itself off track and kill the engineers.

Bo will never love you... Bo has never thought you were beautiful... Bo hates you... hates your body... hates your love... Bo just wants some skinny perfect woman... one from his trophy wall... one better than you... one to satisfy his every need better than you ever could...

Tears stung in your eyes painfully, as you tried to make yourself busy with dinner. Every cut of a vegetable and every stir on the bowl was becoming a burden, you felt the lump in your throat build and tears spilled out in a stream much to your dismay. Anger, frustration, sadness and pain became all too much for your psyche to handle, and in an outburst you pushed everything off the counter, carelessly letting dinner go to waste and everything around you crash and clang against the linoleum.

Silent sobs sealed your airway and you sank to the floor slowly with your back scraping against the fridge, raking your shaky hands through your hair, tears falling wherever they pleased. Breathing seemed fleeting at this point, you felt as if you were drowning in the ocean, all alone, with sharks circling you, taunting your demise. The sobs began to become more painful and broken wails hung in the humid Louisiana air, the force and strain made it feel like you were vomiting but betrayed the fact that your throat was closing against the laments.

Suddenly there were heavy footfalls coming towards you, it was clear as day who they were from; the give away was that the gate was a little unbalanced from the apparent stiffness Bo had always carried in his right leg. The steps stopped for a moment as he was taking in your balled up shaking frame under the flickering fluorescents of the old house. Food, utensils, bowls and plates were all scattered around you like war zone debris, and you were the broken soldier in the middle waiting for the end. You knew he was standing there but you didn’t care; he was never one for comforting you, why would he care tonight?

“Baby... Baby girl wha- shit” Bo stuttered but quickly came to encase you in his muscular arms, groaning as he sat in front of you, his legs caged you, feeling every sob, every painful sharp inhale. “Shhh, shhh, baby it’s ok” he cooed, trying to be soothing though it went against his gruff nature.

His warm body caging you and the unmistakable smell of gas, cigarettes, and some sort of sweet undertone to his cologne that you just couldn’t place, made your body ease enough to catch a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Opening your swollen eyes with a sting, you were somehow surprised to meet his worried stormy blues, eying you like a hawk; his intensity made you force your eyes closed, jerking your head downwards and off to the side, not wanting him to see you so broken. Stifling your cries by biting your lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste along the soft flesh, letting whine escape.

His rough fingertips gingerly caressed your wet chin, commanding you to look up at him; though Bo’s fingers were gentle, his blanketing dominance coated every movement he made effortlessly. Once again your eyes met; pain and concern clashing.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” He spoke softly letting his cigarette stained breath ghost over you. The question brought a new set of tears that started to swell up, teasing to fall through wet lashes. Bo didn’t force you to speak and he just let you catch your breath and collect your thoughts, studying every part of your face as if it was new to him. Checking for any apparent injuries that might be causing the sobs; at least that he could fix that, but no, these wounds were behind the skin, in the deep tissues of your heart and brain, strangling them.

“Bo... I just-” You weakly strained against the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry” pulling away from him you saw something dangerous flutter behind his eyes; Bo was full of his own troubles and insecurities too, and your choice of words fueled something under the surface of him, some deepness he wasn’t ready to face yet. His touch became a little tighter, slowly and agonizing like a python, squeezing the truth out of you. Your apology was out of your embarrassment for him having to see you like this, but he thought it was for cheating on him or harming someone he loved; ultimately resulting in your slow painful death.

Before allowing his anger rise you quietly cried “Bo, baby, I’m just having a bad day... the voices in my head just wouldn’t shut up... I-I just broke” He relaxed his grip slightly and pulled you against his chest with a huff, relaxing around you. Bo was no stranger to the way you felt, he had ended up on the exact spot on the kitchen floor many times before, he was probably drunk when it happened, however, but he understood. In a strange way, you mirrored him like broken glass glued together.

Clutching his coveralls like holding onto a lifeline you stained them with tears, as he moved his hand to cradle your skull closer to him if it were possible, carding his hand through your hair, and his other hand snaked around your waist. His warmth was welcomed but dangerous and painful, loving a broken soul like his hurt all too much; behind every kiss and pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was better off with someone else, and think about the day he doesn’t come home. Bo’s love was addicting and one day you knew it would be ripped away and you would be left scratching and clawing for any remnants that could be salvaged.

“I- I want you to be happy... even if it’s not with me,” weeping and shaking you let your insecurities come to the light allowing Bo to see the sick but not unfamiliar thoughts. “I’m fucking broken... I’m nothing you should have, just damaged goods... You can find someone much more beautiful and stronger... I’m not what you want”

Spilling your guts like a wounded animal begging to live Bo’s hands moved to your shoulders, now pushing you away to look at him with authority oozing off, it made you stop; thinking he was going to lose his temper, and you just waited for the yelling or for him to drag you to the bedroom. The yelling never came. The forceful grip of his large hands never appeared. Just his eyes hardened on you, the blue becoming dark and foreboding, like the black sea that has swallowed a thousand ships.

“Please don’t say that about yourself. Please don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...” He begged then allowed his fortified walls to come down for a brief moment worried you would shatter him completely, “You’re my everything baby... Why don’t you see that?” his voice broke at the vulnerability. The knights were down, off their posts and able to rest after 20 some years of being serviced, taught and berated. This was like a searing knife to his core, slipping between the bones and waiting for it to be yanked out and have him bleed out on the linoleum, alone. “I- I love you.”

Those words, the three words he spoke echoed loud and clear in your brain. The only time he had ever said it was after 5 beers and sloppy sex. Bo was sober tonight and he was painfully aware of it. He said it without flinching or moving his gaze from yours. This is the moment you waited for, after almost 2 full years of rage, blood, tears, love, fights, and pain; it was out there crystal clear. Of course, you had hoped it would be on a scenic hill looking out at the night sky, with your fingers interlaced and shallow breaths matching each other in perfect harmony; not on the cold floor with glass and destruction around you, brokenly clutching one another. However, you were going to take what you could get.

Tears began to flow again but for a whole different reason, as you cupped his strong square jaw, running your thumb on the long jagged scar he carried with grace. “Bo Sinclair, I love you too.” He crashed his lips against yours, his hands were everywhere on you, he craved you, he needed you as much as he did the oxygen to breathe.

#my writing #asks #request #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #angst #horror #slasher #slashers #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher fandom

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krnsluvvie · 4 years ago

Text

look my way!

summary: you’re in love with one of your best friends, great. the fear of rejection and despair bring you to the very edge of cowardice and before you know it, you’ve lost him to someone who was a bit braver.

pairing(s): iwaizumi hajime x reader, platonic matsukawa x reader, platonic oikawa x reader, platonic hanamaki x reader; Seijoh 3rd years besties w reader (basically a friendship fic with angst in the background lol)

genre: angst, fluff, crackheadassery

word count: 8.7k

warnings: unspoken feelings, reader is a coward, gratuitous amount of hugging for no apparent reason

a/n: GRRRRR i hope you’ll enjoy reading!

( *L/N = last name, F/N = first name)

masterlist

───────────────────────────────────

The grand doors to the Aoba Johsai High School barely scrape your elbow as you run through the gap straight to your class, running late and soaked in the rain.

Morning was pretty eventful to say the least - not only had you wrongly set the alarm (somehow changing AM to PM) and completely forgotten to do some revising, but you also had not checked the forecast beforehand to prepare yourself for the brutal attack of raindrops that came your way. Bothered? Perhaps, but you couldn’t afford a walk back home for the umbrella, for you’d be more late than you already are.

As you set foot into your classroom, everyone turns their head towards you, all kinds of expressions visible on their faces — from astonishment to disgust - all of it and all in-between.

You simply ignore their gazes as you take a seat behind the only person you’re relatively close to — Iwaizumi. You both share a friend circle: there’s Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s childhood friend whose annoyance pushes all of you onto the edge of a cliff, Matsukawa and Hanamaki whose jokes and presence make your life a little bit brighter. As much as you love all of them equally, there’s a different feeling when it comes to Iwaizumi. It was felt back then and it is felt now. And frankly said, you don’t really know where that leads you.

You and Iwaizumi talk sometimes - although it revolves mostly around schoolwork (as you both have the exact same classes). But it’s enough for you. It always is. Your friends pointed that years ago - how you seem to ‘favor’ him. You smacked the back of their heads.

“L/N,” Iwaizumi turns around to greet you, only to be met with a frown and wrinkles across your forehead… oh, yes, and the badly camouflaged dark circles that lay beneath your tired eyes. You’re standing there, messenger bag draped across your body, your hair wet and the droplets dripping all over the uniform jacket.

Before neither you nor Iwaizumi could say anything, the teacher enters the classroom. You raise your hand almost immediately and excuse yourself to the restroom. He quirks up an eyebrow at you and upon noticing your horrendous state, he curtly nods. You were quite lucky to have him arrive a tad later than usual.

Now that you’re standing in front of the mirror, you notice just how horrible and indecent you look. You subtly shake your head and wash your face under the running tap water, not caring if it would wash off the half-assed attempt at masking fatigue. It was snippets like this when you realized how grateful you are for the times your mom still had the urge to wake you up at exact hours repeatedly, every day; it became your habit. So, it was the hunch, the inkling that something wasn’t right when your alarm didn’t go off like it normally would. You jerked up so fast it could’ve given you whiplash.

The universe seemed to hate you and you knew it. But somehow still, your luck has pushed forward and through, and instead of being soaked wet from top to bottom, you ended up with only the upper part of your body. The weather must’ve had mercy on you as well, as it started raining half-way on your way to school.

You splash your face with water. Over and over, and over again. It won’t alleviate the heat when you think back to your luck. You might be lucky… but not in the ways you want to.

---

“I heard your morning was rough,” is the first thing Oikawa says to you as you enter the gym. Why you thought becoming a manager was a good idea is beyond you. You thought of quitting numerous of times but then there was this small voice in the back of your mind telling you to just ‘suck it up and enjoy it while you can’ (with the addition of ‘it’s the last year with your friends before you part ways’ that has been bothering you for some months now). You were holding on because you didn’t want to let go of them completely, not yet. It might’ve been only 3 years since you’ve gotten to know them, but the way they’ve grown on you is just baffling. Baffling, yet plausible.

You set your mouth in a straight line and nod regardless.

Oikawa’s teasing smile disappears from his face, “Did I say—”

You sharply inhale and shake your head. “It’s all good. If you need anything, just call me or something.” Oikawa catches your wrist before you can go any further and looks you deadly in the eyes. You hate this look so much because it’s a way of getting information out of you (in your case, it’s your love life that they love to interfere in for no apparent reason). “Is this about Iwa-chan again?”

As if on cue, Matsukawa and Hanamaki appear by each of Oikawa’s side and look at you expectantly. Cool, what are you supposed to do now? Lie? “Of course not. I just really had a shitty morning. You even said it first.”

“Okay,” Oikawa hums. You notice how both Matsukawa and Hanamaki are staying eerily quiet. “And you were avoiding him for what reason, then?”

Of course you weren’t going to lie?! Because they would have called your bullshit out anyway. “I wasn’t avoiding him…” Oikawa sends you a glare and you subconsciously wince.

“I just needed some time figuring stuff out, I think.”

Matsukawa puts a hand on your shoulder, “L/N, how long have you liked this guy?”

“Imagine liking Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki butts in. Oikawa fist bumps him and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Are those really the ones you’ll be spilling your guts to regarding your love life? Crazy shit.

“Uh, um, since first year, I believe?” You might’ve told them that you had a crush on Iwaizumi but you never specified since when and how big of a crush it was.

When those words rolled off your tongue, you knew that it barely was a crush anymore.

And it seems like the guys knew it, too - you could tell especially by their widened eyes. You check the time on your left wrist and leave no room for any of them to comment anything by yelling, “Practice starts in 10!” And so, you shake off the grasp Oikawa had on your wrist and get into the ‘indifferent L/N’ mode.

You notice Iwaizumi making his way into the gym, changed into his sports clothes and you can’t help but feel the fluttering slowly increase in your stomach. Why is it so intense today? You accidentally lock eyes with him and you turn your gaze away so fast you would have snapped your neck.

---

Practice felt insufferably long. You noticed the team’s improvement as a whole, except —as much as you don’t like to admit it— Iwaizumi who seemed a little bit more aloof than usual. His spikes, though, were as powerful as ever, you noted. As you shouldered all the necessary bags and helped the team with cleaning the equipment, Iwaizumi tapped on your shoulder, sweat trickling down his temples. His cheeks were reddened from all the jumps and spikes. “Can we talk later? I’ll… wait for you.” You widened your eyes. Your mind was screaming at you to say No, or even some type of excuse - as long as you didn’t have to face him. Much to your dismay, “Yes,” was what you let out while walking forward to the exit to the secretary. You couldn’t afford looking at him directly, who knows what would happen then, had you had stolen a glance.

On your way back to the gym to retrieve your belongings, you met Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki by the exit. You sent them a glare and went past them. “You shouldn’t waste your time. Do it while you still can.” Oikawa said as he left. Matsukawa and Hanamaki sent you a sympathetic smile before following right after him. “You’re not waiting for Iwaizumi?”

“He said he was gonna talk to you!” The thought of strangling Oikawa felt just right at the moment.

So, this is it.

Iwaizumi is looking anywhere but at you. Honestly said, if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve deemed him as the silent and shy type of guy who would shut his mouth rather than voice his own opinions. But, you do know him better and you know that’s exactly what he’s not and, you can’t help but feel envious at the thought - he was never the type to not call out any of you guys’ bullshit.

So, it doesn’t surprise you when you hear him say, “L/N,” you sharply inhale. “Is there something wrong? Or, like, did I do something wrong?”

You draw your bottom lip between your teeth. You want to blame all the feelings on him; it’s his fault for being the way he is, his fault for acting the way he does, his fault for making you fall head over heels for him - a fact you never dared voicing out until recently. Ultimately, you shake your head and say, “What makes you say that?”

Mental facepalm.

Iwaizumi laughs, you can’t really tell if he meant it or if it was done out of a sarcastic manner, “Hm, aside from avoiding me all the classes and glaring at the back of my head all day, I don’t think anything in particular happened.”

You let a small smile overtake your features. “Oh, well, I did have a shitty morning. But at the same time I don’t want to blame it all on it and I’m sorry it came out the way you perceived it, and-”

Iwaizumi catches you by your shoulders and looks you so tenderly in the eyes you feel like melting from it. You look away as he says, “L/N, you’re ranting.”

You steal a glance at him and notice how his hair is messy from practice and how his cheeks are still pink-dusted. You slowly feel the redness wash over your own cheeks and you ignore the warmth that leaves you when you push Iwaizumi away. “You dumbass, you didn’t do anything wrong, so it’s all good.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side. You sure? You nod and make your way towards the school gates. “Iwaizumi,” you call out, “I glare at you every single day. I’m baffled you realized now!” He catches up to you and ruffles your hair.

“Oh, you’ll be regretting those words.” He slings an arm over your shoulder as you two walk the same path home. Your heart beats a little louder and you internally berate yourself for that. You keep reminding yourself that the boundary between you two must be visible. And even if you crossed a millimeter, you’d be sure to compensate for it - whether that took lunch break spent under the bleachers, or missed practice because you ‘felt sick’ that day.

You were a coward. You were such a coward.

---

Three months later, you’re found in the library with Matsukawa. He needed help with explaining some school stuff you understood and thus, how your study date was born. You prop your chin in the palm of your left hand, the other hand twirling with a pen you found in your pencil case. You look into the distance and your gaze lands on the huge bookshelves, and you wonder if you could find an interesting book to read.

“- do I use a comma here or not?” Matsukawa asks. You hurriedly turn to him, your face softening as you ask him to reiterate the question. You knew it was probably a bad idea to stay after school and help your friend - since you’ve been unfocused and grumpy the whole school day; this session would only add more fuel to the fire. But, then you thought back to all the times when he helped you and you felt bad for not doing anything in return.

“Uh, let me see,” you say as you grab his textbook to go over the sentence he was struggling with. Matsukawa immediately retrieves the textbook from your hands and, with a puff, closes it. Not so softly.

“L/N,” Matsukawa sighs, you notice how his hands are folded atop the textbook. “Just why are you doing this to yourself?” His voice is soft despite what he’s said. “Mattsun, we’re not here for—”

Under the intense stare he gives you, you recoil and say, “I mean, he’s going out with someone already, no? Why would I ruin that now?”

Matsukawa massages his temples and looks you dead in the eyes, his hands clasping over yours. “L/N, you’re being ridiculous now. Just look at how miserable you are!” He fixes his gaze elsewhere, the grip he has on your hands tighten a bit and you sigh in relief. He’s telling you he’s here for you. “It hurts seeing you like this, you know? The guys might not show it but, they’re hurting as much as you are. But you know it’s not our thing to say nor even our business to interfere in.”

You grin, “Fancy of you saying this while interfering in my nonexistent love life.”

Matsukawa snickers and lets go of your hand. “It’s not that nonexistent.”

You’ve always known that out of all the guys, you were a tad closer to Matsukawa. How it came to that point, you don’t really know but even without having to say it out loud, you both knew you could trust each other. You give him a smile and a reassuring nod. You’re here for him, too.

Later that night, you receive a message from Iwaizumi. The temptation to ignore it was so strong yet, somehow, you find yourself clicking on his contact and read over the message.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> L/N! emergency! what do I wear on a formal date, the first or the second one? respond asap pls

You regret… You regret clicking on the message because it hurts - knowing there’s someone who can potentially make him happy, someone that Iwaizumi will come home to, someone that can be his forever. Above all, though, what hurts the most is that you brought all this pain upon yourself.

You look at the attached pictures: in the first one, Iwaizumi’s wearing a basic black suit, with a white dress shirt underneath the blazer and dark pants that reach above his ankles. The second is more ‘daring’ - he’s sporting a blue jean jacket with a hoodie beneath it and black jeans. You snicker at it, is this really what he considers wearing to the aforementioned formal date?

To: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

< iwaaaaa ur not serious about the second one r u?

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Lmao who do you take me for? Ofc not!

To: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

< what was the reason then ?!?!!

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Bored and wanted to talk to you.

Before you could respond, though, another notification pops up on your phone, signaling someone’s messaged you, or more like, the group chat.

From: Oikawa [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> lmaoooo yall heard? iwa-channn is going to a wedding. now place ur bets on how long it will take him to fuck sumn up

From: Makki [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> five dollars for less than an hour

From: Mattsun [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> Stfu (read: 5 bucks for less than two hours we gotta have faith in him cmon)

From: Iwaizumi [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> Just why.

Oh, this is the formal date? They must’ve gotten real close if Iwaizumi will be his date’s date.

You click on the chat with Iwaizumi.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> And the guys, I guess.

Another message incoming.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> Lol, don’t you just love jinxing yourself?

You send him laughing emojis. You two end up texting for some more minutes before that turns into a call and just hearing him talk about something that makes him happy is enough for you. You notice that whenever it comes to Iwaizumi, everything suddenly seems sufficient.

You both end up talking about miscellaneous things - one of them being his date. He tells you about how he met her (through Oikawa as the date attends the same class) and what exactly led to the point where they were now. You knew he was seeing someone but hearing it directly from him made you want to rip your hair off and yell slurs at yourself, and cry into your duvets and —

And what? You need to face the reality - you’re too late now.

“L/N?” Iwaizumi asks through the phone, his voice sounding weary and tinny. You rub your eyes and yawn. “Iwaizumi, we should go to sleep. I wouldn’t want to run late to tomorrow’s date!” You try to sound as cheerful as possible. Your voice cracked at the last bit but it seems that Iwaizumi brushed it off as drowsiness. “Right. Well, thanks for talking to me, dumbass.”

“Who are you calling a dumbass? Look at you, thanking your friend for talking to you. That’s ridiculous.”

“Look at the ungodly time, dumbass.” You do, the clock reads 2:32AM.

“Shut up, just sleep.” And you hang up.

You notice another message.

From: Iwa-shit (do not interact)

> I meant it, L/N. Thanks

You smirk.

To: [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

< five dollars it will take less than thirty minutes

From: Oikawa [Seijoh’s mightiest third years]

> GASP game on b

A day after the date, you all gather at your and Iwaizumi’s joined desks. “So,” Oikawa starts, scrolling on his phone through the numerous posts. “Little birdie posted something and tagged Iwa-chan in it! Let’s see!”

Oikawa places the phone in the middle for everyone to see and clicks on her latest post.

The caption reads: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it took him 28 minutes to bang his head into the stand!’ Oikawa scrolls through the pictures where the said stand was not as straight as it should be. More pictures show him standing next to his date, his smile vibrant and eyes twinkling with happiness. You notice how Iwaizumi’s smile grows bigger each time Oikawa swipes to the left. It is a sequence where he and his date look at each other with so much adoration you have to bite the inside of your cheek to not break down right then and there.

“I can’t believe you dragged my girlfriend into this.” Oikawa visibly gasps, quickly stealing a glance at you and you dare say you caught the slight look of pity in the pools of his eyes. You look away. Even Hanamaki —who enjoys teasing the hell out of you— sends you a look of indescribable mix of emotions and you just brush it off by rolling your eyes at him. You can’t lie that the tears pricking your eyes aren’t present because oh, well, they are.

“Congratulations!” You find yourself saying a tad louder than you intended to. The three of them look at you with widened eyes, quizzical looks on their faces. You lock eyes with Matsukawa and you nod, silently telling him that you know, you know, you know.

The ambience in the classroom gets a little bit more suffocating. “If you’ll excuse me,” you say as you make your way towards the restrooms. Why can’t you just be happy for him? Why do you hold on to something so… trivial? Do you want to lose what you already have? You repeatedly splash water over your face.

I’m a mess, you whisper to yourself as you notice the puffy red eyes and run your hands along your cheekbones. You’re ready to curse the universe for treating you like shit because as much as you are aware of the situation, you don’t deserve to feel this way.

However, despite all of this, you know that in the end, you have no one but yourself to blame.

---

Seconds, hours, days, weeks go by and graduation seems closer than ever. Naturally, all of you have become more busy with preparing for the exams. As much as you hate to admit it, you miss them.

It felt good the first few days; you had them off your back and you didn’t have to deal with their bullshit you’ve grown accustomed to (for some reason, and very much to your dismay). But recently, you’ve been feeling empty and you haven’t been talking that much - though, not that you minded. Typically, you four would spend the sunny afternoons in your backyard, black-tinted sunglasses protecting your eyes from the scorching hot sun. You would stuff yourselves with too much ice cream, jelly sticks of all flavors and too many yogurt drinks that had no right tasting so good.

Once inside the house, Oikawa would lie on the table, fanning himself with the poor excuse of a textbook, Hanamaki and Matsukawa would solve like one and a half math problems and then rest on the table, too, cheeks pressed against the cold surface. Iwaizumi would prepare snacks and you’d help him with that.

You’d notice the way he talks so mindlessly when it came to the things he liked: it being volleyball or Agedashi Tofu. You’d play some music in the background as the two of you would work on preparing the snacks. You’d feel just how dangerously close you two are when he leans over your body to retrieve a cup from the shelf. You’d be hyper aware of everything and that was one of the things you loved and hated simultaneously.

So it was quite a surprise to get a call in the middle of your study session.

You slide to the right with your thumb, accepting the call. “L/N! My favourite person!”

“Cut the bullshit, Oinks. You need something?” You press the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you decide to cut up some fruit. “Actually, I don’t need anything.” You frown, then why did he call you? To waste your precious time? “I just wanted to let you know that the guys will be picking you up in,” a momentary pause, “like five minutes because we’ve missed you and you deserve a break from studying.”

You nearly yell at him but instead, you say, “I hate you.”

“Aw, I can feel the love!” You roll your eyes. Then comes silence. The sweet, bitter, hung-up-in-the-air silence that circles around you in vexing motions, driving you crazy.

“Look, about Iwaizumi’s relationship-”

You gasp, “Iwaizumi.” You mockingly repeat. Oikawa sighs on the other line. Right, no time for jokes. “L/N, his girlfriend makes him really happy. I honestly don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you don’t know either, “but I know you’re a good person and you wouldn’t want to ruin that. And, I know you hate people who pity you but I still feel the need to apologize-”

“You’re so embarrassing, I can’t believe you. Why should you apologize for something that was not even your fault?”

“Hm, kinda like a best friend’s duty, I dare say.” You laugh - this one’s legitimately genuine. “You can be, uh, bearable sometimes.” Oikawa guffaws so loudly you have to put your phone away from you to not get an ear-rape. “I’ll use that against you, ugly.”

“Just say you love me and go,” You jokingly say, not expecting the latter to say the words.

“Now, say it back,” he whines. All you let out, though, is an incomprehensible screech and a ‘See you there!’, and end the call.

Subconsciously, you might just have said them.

The doorbell resounds throughout the whole house and you run to the front door, peeping through the hole to see who decided to pay you a visit. You see Hanamaki and Matsukawa waving at you.

You open the door, the wind sending a refreshing swoosh to your hair and you smile upon seeing the two boys before you. “You look kinda scary when you smile,” Matsukawa says as you threaten to hit him with your palm outstretched. Hanamaki doesn’t seem unfazed by your antics as he asks,“Oikawa probably called you, no?”

You nod and get out of the doorway so that they can enter the house. “As usual, make yourself at home and you can steal some cut fruit in the kitchen.”

Five minutes later, you descend the stairs in your jogging pants and short-sleeved shirt. They didn’t tell you where you were going so you went with something casual yet comfortable.

Putting on your shoes, you lock the front door and catch up to the two that went ahead. You notice how both of them are wearing casual clothes as well - but unlike someone, they had the formality to at least wear jeans. You’re walking by Hanamaki’s left side, flanking him with Matsukawa on the other. “So, where are you two dragging me?”

Hanamaki turns to you and with a saccharinely sweet smile and elbows you lightly in the ribs. “It’s a secret~” You return the gesture with a little more strength than you wanted - hence, Hanamaki unintentionally pushing into Matsukawa’s side, nearly flying him into the fence of someone’s house if he hadn’t braced himself for the impact.

“Wow, L/N, if you’re mad, just tell us, damn,” Hanamaki rubs his ribs, dramatically hissing in pain. You roll your eyes but apologize regardless. “You good, Mattsun?” He nods at your question and you send him a contrite look of sorts.

“Is it just me or have you gotten a bit more aggressive?” Hanamaki nudges into your shoulder and you send him a questioning look - brows furrowed and a bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Huh?”

Hanamaki sighs, “I don’t know, ever since Iwaizumi announced his relationship or whatever, you’ve been tense around him… avoiding him, too.Us, too… kinda.”

You look into the distance, noticing a building that you know all too well, “You know, Makki, you seem to notice a lot of things despite your unattentive nature.”

“I am,” Hanamaki inhales theatrically, “offended.”

“As you should be, honestly.” Matsukawa elbows him in the ribs. Hanamaki turns to him, “Just because L/N hurt my ribs from the left side doesn’t mean the right side needs to be damaged, too!”

“You spend too much time with Oikawa,” You tsk, letting out an airy laugh.

“Don’t tell me we’re gonna have to sit through Oikawa’s karaoke session again,” You slap your forehead. You knew that the two boys you are currently with didn’t propose this idea - if anything, they must’ve been forced into this… as would be you and Iwaizumi. Of course. It’s a tradition after all.

“Yep,” Matsukawa shrugs. “But look on the bright side, you can yell whatever to appease your anger you’ve been bottling up.” You glare at him and he raises both of his hands up in mock-surrender.

Hanamaki catches your wrist and motions Matsukawa to enter the building first. He complies. “Listen, we just want the squad back on its good terms, so we’ll hope you’ll talk it out today.” You slowly nod, ready to take off to the building behind Matsukawa. “One more thing,” Hanamaki loosens the grip on your wrist. “Remember that Iwaizumi was a friend first before he was your first love.”

You stiffen. Were those the words you’d always needed to hear but they’d never occurred to you? Iwaizumi was a friend first before he was your first love.

Something clicks.

How could you have been so selfish; wallow in your self-pity, run in circles because all you could do was to remind yourself that this was your fault, your reality now? How could you have been so reckless, risking years of friendship on the line?

“You coming?” Hanamaki yells, palms cupped around his mouth. You nod, slowly reaching the building.

---

Five karaoke sessions (and a very enthusiastic Oikawa-singing) later, you plump down on the couch, wiping the perspiration off your forehead. It’s tiring - watching Oikawa giving his all to convey the right feelings into the song. You must admit, he sure is passionate; it’s almost as if you were watching him play volleyball - except with a mic in his hand instead that he wouldn’t throw around… hopefully.

As the song nears its end, you all let out a breath of relief, a mix of annoyance, boredom, and tiredness hanging in the stuffy air. You let yourself sink further into the sofa, hoping it could swallow you whole and erase your existence.

Okay, maybe you should tone down being so pessimistic.

“How was I?” Oikawa asks, eyes sparkling. His hair is unkempt from all the unnecessary movements he made during the climax of the song and his cheeks are painted a rosy hue - you note even with the flashing lights casting every color across his face.

You smirk, “Not bad.”

Oikawa frowns at your response, tightening his grip on the mic. “What do you mean ‘not bad’? After everything I’ve done for you? I see how it is, you’re gonna hear me sing again—”

You steal a glance at Iwaizumi. You notice how he’s staring at the door, probably wishing he were anywhere else but here. Hanamaki comes into your line of sight and you motion him to do anything to catch Iwaizumi’s attention, thus Hanamaki getting buried alive as he slaps the back of Iwaizumi’s head. He glowers at Hanamaki, already rolling up his sleeves.

Hanamaki points in your direction and you catch Iwaizumi’s green eyes that glisten a little bit brighter in the excessively flashing-lit room. With your thumb, you point to the exit and he nods, a look of relief washes over his features.

Once outside the suffocating room, you inhale the fresh air. Summer is just around the corner and even though it was your favourite season, you can’t help but indulge yourself in the chilliness before it changes its course for the next three months.

“Uh, good day, yeah?” Iwaizumi shoves his hands into his jeans’ front pockets, admiring the gravelly ground. He’s put some distance between you two.

“Sure, if being forced into this activity with Oikawa is a good thing.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, “It’s our thing, L/N, and you know it.” You nod and purse your lips in a straight line because well, he made it awkward for no reason. Or was it you for saying something so obvious?

“How are the exam preparations coming along? Dream college or something like that?” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, looking past Iwaizumi’s shoulder at passersby.

“Could be better but so far no mental breakdowns.” You can hear the sarcasm laced in his voice as he speaks. “Was thinking about sports science ‘cause you know, it hurts me to watch athletes injure themselves.”

“Hajime, you’re a good person.” The words tumble out of your lips before you can stop yourself; it felt too unnatural to not say it. Iwaizumi barks a laugh. “You, too, F/N.”

You grin, “Obviously.” If you truly meant it or not, you didn’t know.

Comfortable ambience surrounds you both as you let the wind carry out the unsaid words.

You were never a person of many words - you’ve alway been a little too blunt, a little too hotheaded, a little too selfish. Although in most of the cases you were not aware, it was about damn time you got your head out of your ass and looked around yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hoping it would cover all the damage you caused (and fully knowing that would not be the case).

Iwaizumi looks up, eyes searching yours. He quirks his eyebrow in a silent question.

You reconsider your words. “I’m sorry for not spending that much time with you. I know we’re not bound to each other or anything but I just felt like… maybe it was better for the both of us? I mean, we’re graduating in less than two months and … yeah.”

“Oh, so that’s why. I thought you were avoiding me,” he scratches the back of his neck, tilting his head. “You also haven’t been showing up to practice anymore so I thought…”

Right. Of course.

“Well, I managed to lure this first year into taking over my duties for the time being that I figure my shit out, you know?”

Iwaizumi mock-gasps you. “You’re so irresponsible.” You roll your eyes as some sort of retort.

“Come here.”

You look up in horror; his arms are outstretched and there’s an evil smile strewn across his face. “What do you want to do, Iwaizumi.”

“Dumbass, just give me a hug,” he says as he steps forward and catches you off-guard by encircling his muscular arms around your shoulders, squashing your face in the crook of his neck. He pats your back in a steady rhythm, your arms unmoving by your sides. “Come to practice and let that first-year breathe, will you?”

You let a small smile snake its way onto your face. “After all, this is what you say?”

“Priorities,” he hums, holding you still in his embrace. You groan in pseudo-annoyance as you lightly punch his stomach to get him away from you, only to no avail. “Cute of you to even try, now hug your friend back or I’m not letting you go.”

You sigh, “Everyone sounds like Oikawa, just how much extra time have you all been spending together?”

“Maybe if you had tagged along, you would have sounded just like us, too.”

“Is that really a win?” You say as your arms weakly encircle his waist, ghosting over it. “Now, let me go, you sap.”

Iwaizumi infinitesimally tightens his grip around your shoulders. “I would never.”

You flutter your eyes close against his shirt, your forehead pressed against his shoulder. You notice it was quite similar to something you had with Matsukawa - some kind of reassurance that they were here for you no matter what. Whether Iwaizumi meant it in that sense or not, you let yourself drop your build-up guard as you snuggle deeper into the comfort of his embrace and mutter a ‘thank you’ you hope he caught.

---

“Hajime!” You look up, your hand with the pen halting on the clipboard sitting on your forearm.

The person in question runs up to the girl and hooks her hands around his neck as he twirls her around in front of his teammates that look surprisingly apathetic.

“She keeps coming to his practice, why does he act like it’s always the first time?” You hear Kunimi mutter by your right and you send him an eyebrow raise to which he responds with a scowl. You wince. Kids these days.

Kindaichi bows and apologizes on Kunimi’s behalf. You wave him off with a half-smile and ruffle his hair, saying how great his blocks were.

“I will do my best!” He says as he dashes off onto the court, meeting up with the rest of the teammates. You catch Oikawa’s concentrated face as he gives the second years some advice on spiking. You smile fondly to yourself; there truly was not a better captain; leader.

“L/N-san,” the first-year tugs at your jacket, you nod in acknowledgment, prodding her on. “I’ll have to go now, so if you'll excuse me.”

“Of course! Thank you so much for helping me! Have a great day!” The first-year bows and leaves the gym with a wave. You reciprocate it with an added smile.

The girl from earlier approaches you in light-weight steps, her uniform neatly ironed, you noted. She has her hair in a high ponytail and you notice how stunning she is. “These guys can be really mean on the court, no?”

It takes you embarrassingly long enough to understand that she’s talking to you. “Oh… uh, yeah. They can get aggressive.”

“How long have you been a manager?” She suddenly asks, eyes sparkling with interest.

“Ever since I became a first-year, so three years now.” You answer, noticing how she’s clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I can’t even imagine how bad must it be for your mental health to deal with these brats.”

Oh. “Hm, if you’re used to hearing their bullshit everyday, I’m sure you’d be just fine.” She laughs genuinely. You subconsciously tighten your hold on the clipboard.

“Maybe,” she mutters, her gaze landing on Iwaizumi who spikes the ball set to him specifically by Oikawa onto the opponent’s court, adding a point to his team.

“Honestly I admire you for that.” You stay still because… what else is there to do? “As much as I’ve always wanted to be one, I don’t think I’d be good at it, and it’s too late for me, anyway.” She dry-laughs, the sadness clearly woven into her voice.

“I can show you some things if you want. It’s mostly paperwork but there’s also—” (the habit of talking before thinking was getting out of hands now)

She eagerly nods as you hand her your clipboard you’ve been writing into the whole time. The coach sends you a questioning look but you wave him off, mouthing ‘okay’, ‘no problem’ and everything in between.

As you two work in silence - you showing her the basics and the fundamentals, and her nodding everything off and asking questions (which reminds you of the first-year that you were lucky to find because, let’s be real, who would be so excited over taking the responsibilities?), you both don’t notice Iwaizumi watching you two interact, thinking how two of his favorite people are conversing.

And that’s how he gets zonked. In the head. By Oikawa.

Before you could run off to check up on Iwaizumi, she catches your wrist. “He’ll be okay in no time.”

You let your jaw drop. “W-what…”

“Just look at him, this happens all the time, don’t worry.”

“But it’s my responsibility—”

“Look out, L/N!!!” You turn towards the voice, for the first time in your life catching the ball... with your face. And as you hit the ground, blackness is the only thing that surrounds you.

Your head is spinning, the pain pounding against your skull. You’re lying on a bed, the headrest slightly raised. You bring a hand up to your face, feeling just how much it is swollen beneath your fingertips. “You’ll be okay,” the nurse says, cleaning up the supplies. “It’ll take some time healing; you got a pretty severe hit.”

“Yeah,” you let out, defeated. “What about Iwaizumi?”

“Ah, yeah, he’s just left. He’s okay, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You let out a sigh of relief. Just what the hell happened? You throw a forearm over your forehead and flutter your eyes close, indulging in the way the mattress beneath your body feels nice. Before you know it, you slip into the dreamland.

;

The practices have been less and less rigorous, considering the fact that the third years prioritized their decent marks rather than ‘some hobby’ (“L/N! How could you say that!” Oikawa whined on one fine day, tugging at your sleeve. Iwaizumi sent you a glare that day.). After all, they could’ve retired after losing to Karasuno but Oikawa was rigid, and someone had to lead the team for the little time that they had left.

You also have been seeing Iwaizumi’s girlfriend come to his practices, cheering him on or completely shattering his ego. They fit one another really well; she was there to ground him if he got too aggressive. Their natures seemed to clash in the right way. You swallow the bile rising up your throat.

No.

“L/N!” You turn to the voice, noticing it was her. You wave at her. This has become some kind of routine you both fell into, with the rest of the team as well. “How’s school?” She asks out of the blue and you weigh out the options: to answer or to digress. Why would she start a small talk, considering you two aren’t relatively that close yet?

You ignore the nonsensical thoughts your mind loves conjuring up.

“Good.”

She nods, averting her gaze as she bits on her bottom lip. You two watch the game before you.

(Eventually, these little small talks turn into full-on hangouts on Fridays with the guys tagging along. And maybe, maybe your assumptions were wrong, after all.)

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe we’ve made it.” You sniffle into your sleeve as you hold tightly onto the tube with the graduation certificate in it. The school gymnasium is teeming with sweaty bodies of graduates, holding onto their own tubes. Everyone’s chattering so loud it makes your head turn.

Oikawa nudges your shoulder and with a blinding smile says, “We really did, L/N-san.”

You grin and turn your body to him, catching him off-guard as you hug his middle, fake-sniffling into his uniform. “Don’t pry my hands off, this is my love language.” Oikawa gasps but you can feel him lean into the embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey,” you lift your shoulder he’s resting his chin on. He hums in acknowledgement. “You did really well, Oikawa-san. I respect you so much, Oikawa-san. You have worked very hard-”

Oikawa jerks away from your warmth, holding you by your shoulders at an arm’s length. “You mean this, L/N-san?” He challenges you.

You flick his forehead. “Obviously not. Except the last part.”

Oikawa gets into a ranting mode as you look around the gymnasium, spotting numerous familiar faces. You send them a smile and a wave. On the other side of the gym, you spot Iwaizumi with his girlfriend by his side. Their arms are locked as they converse with Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

You notice the way Iwaizumi snakes an arm around her waist, probably trying to keep her as close as possible. Ah yeah, of course. Iwaizumi has always been a little too overprotective when it came to the people he cared for. You smile upon the fact; he was a bit too good for this world, although it might not seem so to strangers. But that was the beauty of it all, how only you — among the others he cared for— could see his true colors.

“L/N?” You look up. “Are you sure you’re fine? I mean it makes me really sad just seeing you so… sullen.” The tears are pricking your eyes. Why is Oikawa being like this?

“Tooru, I hate you so much.” You grab onto his jacket as he instinctually grabs a hold of your shoulders, slamming you against his chest. “Why are you like this.”

He tsks, “No, why are you like this?”

You let yourself indulge in the warmth and comfort of his embrace, tuning the world out for a second. “Thank you for the years. I mean it.”

“Now, now, why are you such a sap? Look,” he points behind you, “Mattsun and Makki are here!”

You scramble away from his hold, patting at your uniform as you pretend everything prior to this was just a hallucination, an illusion. “You two, can you believe this? L/N is so emotional it makes me cry, too.”

You grumble in embarrassment. “Let me be. I do have the right to be emotional. How are you not crying? You won’t get to see me anymore.”

Hanamaki joins the conversation. “I think that’s why none of us are crying.” Oikawa barks a laugh as he steadies himself on Hanamaki’s shoulder. You turn to Matsukawa, expecting some sort of back-up. “I mean, he didn’t lie…”

You pout. “Betrayal.”

“I knew you always had a favorite!” Hanamaki exclaims with his arms crossed over his chest. Oikawa stops laughing, already rolling his sleeves up, albeit unsuccessfully. “Unbelievable. I thought we didn’t play favorites?”

“We don’t!” You exclaim with as much rage.

Matsukawa steps into your personal space as he engulfs you in a bear hug, carding his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to lie to them,” Matsukawa says as he too-sweetly smiles at the remaining boys.

“Scandalous,” Oikawa says, hands already clenched in fists by his side. Hanamaki catches him by his middle. “Losers.”

You snake your hands into the inside of Matsukawa’s jacket and tickle him. “Ow,” He jerks away from you and sends you a glare. You only smile in return.

“You know,” Hanamaki starts, “you have never given me a hug.”

You widen your eyes because first of all, he’s absolutely right and second of all, why did he have the need to say it out loud and so… straightforwardly? Does he have no shame? You also hate the fact that your brain tends to short-circuit every time someone’s being too explicit and your body reacts a tad faster before you can realize it - naturally, your cheeks redden and you bring the tube to your cheeks to soothe the redness that is not going away. “Takahiro, shut!”

He shrugs. “For real, Oikawa hugs you like, all the time. Matsukawa does, too, which is surprising,” Matsukawa yells ‘Hey, I can be nice!’ , “and god, don’t get me started on Iwaizumi.

It’s as if Oikawa was made for this. His ears perk up at the mention of his childhood friend as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “What?” You roll your eyes, wishing for some silence, freedom, ‘get me out of here’s.

“You were saying, huh?” Oikawa leans into Hanamaki, their shoulders bumping. “Get off me, you creep.”

Oikawa has this whole ‘lost-puppy-in-the-streets’ look going on and you almost give in to the temptation to comfort him. But bruh, nah, he’s a big boy. “Anyway back to our Iwaizumi!

“We all know he’s not affectionate, right, he’d punch us in the guts and say something like, I don’t hate y’all. But!” You flinch upon the raised voice. “When it comes to our not-that best and not-that impressive and stupid and dumb—”

“We get it!” You say, looking awfully bothered by it (not that it actually bothered you, haha, nope).

“He’s kinda soft. It’s totally different with his girlfriend but yeah.”

The rest of you eye each other. This was so not happening. “Did you just analyze this whole meaningless shit,” Matsukawa deadpans.

“Had to justify my lack of L/N Hugs.”

You slap your forehead. “Hanamaki, what the fuck even--” In that exact moment, you’re thrown in Hanamaki’s way, his arms instinctually wrapping themselves around your shoulders as you try stopping the momentum that could possibly make you both fall onto the hard, stepped-on by not-clean shoes and totally not-dusty ground.

“Is this a new way of hugging or something?” A voice asks from behind you and Hanamaki in each other’s awkward embrace. There stands Iwaizumi with his girlfriend by his side, an ever-so-wide smile strewn across their faces. “At least I got my hug.” Hanamaki unwraps his arms around you, completely disregarding you as he drops you to the ground.

“I feel so used.” You wipe at your metaphorical tear in the corner of your eye. As you’re about to hoist yourself up, a hand appears before you.

Without any second thoughts, you take it and with the person’s help, you lift yourself up from the ground. “Thanks, ‘Zumi.”

“Hm, you never gave me a nickname.” It sounds like he’s pondering over the words except he just accidentally said them out loud. You notice your friend group a feet away, chattering animatedly with other classmates, Iwaizumi’s girlfriend somewhere in the far corner chatting with her girl friends. Great, you two, just what you wanted.

You swear to god that you caught the three close friends of yours sending you unsubtle glances, making gestures, clowning, whatever. You shake your head.

“Something on your mind, L/N?” You divert your gaze to the ground. After all this time, why does your heart skip a beat faster whenever you’re the only ones around?

“I,” you start, fiddling with your fingers, the tube safely tucked under your arm. “I never got the chance to properly thank you for the years.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. A second, two, three pass by. He’s waiting. “Uh,” you straighten your back and hold the tube with both of your hands to stop them from shaking so damn much. At this point they could become engines with which you could drive around the neighborhood. “I told the guys already,” you point at them with your thumb, “so don’t feel special or anything.”

He smiles and that encourages you to keep going. “Well, I don’t think you know but I’m like, the biggest fan of you.” He sends you a knowing look. Oh, so you’re a fan of him?

“Of you all. And I might not have shown it as much but it’s the truth. I can’t even imagine how hard you all must’ve worked to get where you are. Your strategies, your excellent thinking, your intelligence, your view on things - it’s all so impressive to me and I wanna let you know that whatever you’ll choose in the end, just know this high school time was crucial to your growth.”

Silence. Did you say something wrong? Maybe it’s taking him some time to absorb, digest the whole word vomit you just let out. What’s filtering anyway.

“L/N, you know,” Iwaizumi averts his eyes to the high ceiling, the sunlight smiling down on you two. “I don’t think you should be saying this to me.”

You shake your head. “I promise I’ve already told him and I’ll let him know later again, but now, this,” you gesture to the air between the two of you, “is about you so stop selling yourself short. I thought you were over this.”

Iwaizumi quirks his lips up in a half-smile, eyes sparkling with an emotion you could actually tell - gratefulness. “See, I didn’t lie when I said you were a good person.”

You shoot him one of your best smiles, “Could say the same about you, sir.”

“Hey, you two! You going?” Oikawa yells from the other side of the room, pointing at both of you. He’s nearing the exit with the rest of the third years, still facing you. You give him a thumbs up and the last thing you see is the undoubted significant smile that had no ulterior motives. “So, we going?” Iwaizumi points to the exit, the hall slowly but surely emptying each passing minute.

“You go ahead, I still have something left to do.” Iwaizumi looks suspicious but after relentless bickering, he gave up and said he’d be waiting outside, somewhere near the school, you’ll find him eventually.

As you’re left alone in the emptied gym, you cannot help but think of the times when you first got to know the guys that you now call your best friends.

Awkward, embarrassed, clueless.

You were reluctant to join, for: firstly, what did you know about volleyball? Secondly, you were really not looking for any friends, so how come it ended up the way you didn’t plan to, yet you were never more grateful? What would’ve happened had you not decided to join the volley club as a manager?

You’d like to believe you were in-one-way-or-another lucky. You never questioned your luck, never questioned your fate. You believed in the universe - although you knew it had a very obvious, blatant dislike to you. Ignoring all of that, you went with the flow.

People come and go. Friends come and go. You are aware.

These lingering feelings? It hurts.

It hurts but that’s only because you were never brave enough to let them out. This was a choice you could’ve chosen. You didn’t have to wait for a miracle to appear in front of you and make you say all the words you’d always felt too scared to say.

Hadn’t it been for Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki, would you have been able to even fall in love with Iwaizumi in the first place?

Right, you did attend the same class but would the bond have been as strong as it is now?

No matter what, Iwaizumi was a friend first and although it hurts, you need to move on. One way or another.

“C’mon, L/N! We won’t get to any food if we dilly-dally any longer!” Iwaizumi shouts to you from the other side and you bite your lip to prevent the megawatt smile from spreading across your face.

It hurts.

It hurts so much, but the least you can do is to cherish him in the ways you can.

Cherish him as a friend.

118 notes · View notes

oo-hazel-oo · 3 years ago

Text

The Lucky Batch

hey y’all! i’ve been working on this for a hot minute — turns out i am incapable writing anything shorter than 5,000 words, so sorry in advance for how long this got. a huge thank you to @cosmicghostie for being the ultimate writer's cheerleader and to the rest of the lucky batch for giving me such amazing characters to work with! you all genuinely brighten my day, so i hope this brightens yours! ♥︎

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lucky: a few days in the life of Clone Force 37’s unofficial therapist

content warnings: blood/injury, weapon use, lots of emotional distress (but also some fluff to make up for it!!)

Thumbs didn’t know when he had become Clone Force 37’s unofficial therapist. It just kinda happened.

His original role as the squad’s battle strategist shifted after he realized that his usual skill-set wouldn’t be helpful to a squad who typically threw strategy out the window.

Yet even without a set strategy, the unconventional group somehow had a relatively high success rate when it came to their missions. Thumbs had assumed it was their unpredictability that gave them an advantage. Or the fact that each of them had unique abilities, unlike any soldiers he had ever met.

However, the longer he was with Clone Force 37, the more he started to notice just how special his batch-mates were.

The twins, Foxy and Pepper, had caught his attention first. Both were skilled in their own ways, but what stood out to Thumbs was how each was fiercely protective of the other. He wasn’t sure what the pair had gone through to end up on the Clover, but he couldn’t help but notice the weight of Foxy’s quiet around strangers or the subtle promise behind each sticker that Pepper placed. Thumbs knew more than anyone, love was always accompanied by fear.

He saw this fear in Master Kenhla, every time she glanced towards the two padawans she had come to mentor. Despite her powerful posture, Thumbs could see how she carried the galaxy on her shoulders; not so that she could manage more, but so her brothers could bear less.

Brothers like Rane and Skip, who had lost everything, everyone, before finding their place with the Lucky Batch. Or Sparks and Ryder, both of whom blamed themselves for tragedies of the past.

They all had lost so much… Yet, by some miracle, they had found each other.

Thumbs would do anything to make sure it stayed that way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This particular day had started normally, which for Thumbs meant wincing as three screaming forms barreled towards where he sat knitting at the back of the ship. He set his needles down, knowing he would not be getting back to work anytime soon.

“Here we go,” he mumbled under his breath as his batchmates shouted from across the hull.

“THUMBS!!!”

The small stampede, which was revealed to be Sparks, Ballast, and Luna, raced towards him, each one attempting to outpace the other.

“Oh Maker, Ballast, what did you do?”

The batcher in question skidded to a stop, mock-offense written across his face. “I didn’t-”

Thumbs gave each of his batch-mates a once-over, scanning them for injuries. “Should I get Pepper? Is anyone hurt?”

“Not yet,” the two mechanics both mumbled under their breath.

Thumbs sighed in equal parts relief and exhaustion. Ballast and Sparks had been ‘friendly’ rivals for as long as he had known the pair. Unfortunately for him, their rivalry often extended outside the realm of mechanics and into the everyday affairs of the Lucky Batch, with Thumbs usually acting as the chosen mediator of these disagreements.

Sparks pointed at Ballast, pleading his case. “He ate all the cookies Jack made me!”

“You’re overreac-”

“And drank all my caf.”

Now Thumbs understood the near-murderous look on Sparks’ face.

His brother had always done so much for the batch and asked for very few things in return, one of those things being his morning cups of caf: a simple but necessary pleasure that allowed him to function throughout the day.

Thumbs brought his attention back to the pair in front of him, wondering whose word to trust more. Then he brought his gaze down, to a much more reliable source.

“Luna, what happened?”

The padawan looked up nervously, her eyes partially hidden behind choppy bangs. Thumbs smiled when he noticed she was wearing the mittens he had knit for her. He had originally made pairs for both her and Brisk while they were stationed on a colder planet, but now Luna liked to wear them for fun, claiming they made her look like an ewok.

The young girl shrunk from the attention that was suddenly on her, moving closer to Ballast’s side.

“I…”

“What happened is he drank all my caf.” Sparks stepped forward, jabbing another accusatory finger towards Ballast. “The caf that prevents me from strangling my brothers when they get on my nerves.”

Thumbs spoke up, attempting to diffuse the rising hostility. “I thought you didn’t even like caf, Ballast. I always see you drinking that tea Jackal likes.”

The mechanic shifted on his feet nervously. “Well, I…”

Thumbs looked towards his brother curiously, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Something about the whole dispute seemed off, almost like Ballast was covering for someb-

“Wait,” a small voice piped up from behind the three brothers. “B-Ballast didn’t take your caf, I did.”

“You-” Sparks spun towards the voice with an instinctive glower before recognizing its source. His features softened almost instantly. “What?”

Luna shrugged sheepishly. “I wanted to see if it was good… It was! And Master Ken said I was exceptionally energetic during our training afterwards.”

Thumbs fixed his gaze on Sparks expectantly, curious how he would react to the young batcher’s confession.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, wringing her mittened hands. “I know I should’ve asked.”

Sparks cleared his throat awkwardly as he waved off her apology. “No, it’s uh... It’s fine.”

Luna’s expression remained uncertain and Ballast elbowed Sparks in the side, urging him to reassure the young girl.

“Really, I mean... I shouldn’t even be drinking that much anyway,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.

Ballast grinned at Sparks, eating up the moment.

Thumbs couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto his own face as well. For a squad of soldiers who had fought countless battles and overcome powerful enemies, they sure did surrender fast when it came to their padawans. No one onboard the Clover was immune to their effortless charm.

Luna eventually looked up at Thumbs, seeking his own approval, which he happily granted with an encouraging thumbs up.

There was a welcome moment of silence before Sparks’ head jerked upwards once more.

“Wait, what about my cookies?”

“Hmm...” Ballast looked to the floor dramatically, feigning deep thought. “You mean the chocolate chunk cookies with sea salt and a fine caramel drizzle?” He smirked before continuing. “I have no idea.”

Sparks took two threatening steps towards Ballast and within seconds the two of them were chasing each other throughout the Clover with Luna giggling in their wake.

For the clones, who quite literally were forced to grow up too fast, the padawans’ presence reminded them of what a childhood should be. It kept them grounded, desperate to preserve that feeling for the young girls for as long as they could. And if that meant that Luna could get away with stealing Spark’s caf, then so be it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That evening’s supply trip was supposed to be easy. A quick in and out operation to gather necessary materials for the coming weeks. But it had already been three hours since Ballast, Sparks, and Foxy’s expected return and no one on the Clover had received an update on their whereabouts.

Thumbs wasn’t someone who paced often. While the rest of the galaxy seemed to be in constant motion, Thumbs always tried his best to remain still at its center. But the longer he waited for his batchmates’ return, the more he felt like he was spinning off his axis, unable to stop the repetitive trajectory of his feet throughout the hull.

He wasn’t even aware of his own movements until they were interrupted by the sound of distant yelling. Strained shouts echoed from outside the Clover’s walls, nearly imperceptible amidst the intensifying wind. Their tone, panicked and desperate, was more bone-chilling than the rain that had started to fall around them.

Storms had always scared Thumbs. He hated seeing flashes of lightning, understanding that the explosion of thunder would follow, but never knowing when. Deep down he knew that thunder was harmless, that lightning posed the greater threat, but at least it was quick, unexpected, gone in a flash. Thunder was slow, deafening, inevitable.

When the Clover’s ramp finally lowered to reveal a bloodied Sparks cradled in Ballast’s arms, he knew that the lightning had passed.

This was the thunder.

Thumbs watched in silence as his brothers stumbled into the hull of the ship, a trail of mud and blood left in their wake. Ballast and Foxy eased Sparks onto the closest bunk, removing his armor to better assess the injury. Luna and Brisk dashed into the room, their eyes widening at the horrific sight. Luna’s breaths came in labored bursts as she called for Pepper, tears streaming down her face.

The squad’s medic came running, following the worried gaze of the two young girls who stood near the bunks. He spared a brief glance at Foxy before quickly donning a pair of gloves and shouting orders to nearby batch-mates. Hearing the commotion, Master Kenhla arrived and immediately ushered her padawans out of the room, not wanting them to witness the sight of their brother in pain.

While before Thumbs had been unable to sit still, now he felt frozen, cold as the ice on Hoth. His brothers were right in front of him, yet he felt as if he were watching the scene unfold from millions of miles away.

He kept thinking back to that morning — Sparks had been fine, albeit cranky over his lack of caf, and now…

Thumbs hated it. He hated how things could change so quickly.

He watched as Ballast, usually explosive in his mannerisms, now held Sparks’ hand in his own, whispering words of comfort as his brother lay motionless on the cot.

Thumbs suddenly felt sick to his stomach, a shrill ringing filling the air around him. The echoes of a memory that had been stagnant for years, forced into the depths of his mind, suddenly emerged:

An argument, a battle, another brother gone. A hand desperately squeezing his own before going limp, devoid of all life.

Another hand, this one from the present, landed on his shoulder, dragging him out of one nightmare and into another. A voice was speaking, asking if he was alright, telling him to sit down.

Thumbs’ guilt only increased. Hands that should be helping his fallen brother were instead on his own shoulders, urging him towards the nearest seat. He shrugged them off with an uncharacteristic roughness, finally taking a few shaky steps towards Sparks.

He had almost made it to the bunk when the same pair of arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him back.

“Thumbs, stop,” the voice urged. “You need to let Pepper help him. There’s nothing you can do.”

He knew the words were supposed to be comforting. He had spoken the same ones to almost every soldier who had come to him burdened with the invisible weight of survivor’s guilt. Sometimes it was what they needed to hear; other times, it wasn’t.

The last thing Thumbs saw was an oxygen mask being lowered onto his brother’s face before eventually succumbing to the arms around him, letting himself be removed from the scene.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thumbs woke up the next morning with a headache.

Foxy, who had been the one to escort him out of the room the night before, filled him in on what had happened during the supply run.

Apparently as the trio had made their way back to the ship, bandits had intercepted them. The ragtag group of thieves were lacking in both numbers and artillery and hadn’t been particularly difficult to subdue. Sparks had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught in the unforgiving crossfire of a supply trip gone wrong.

Thumbs wished he had been there. Maybe then he could’ve shouted to his brother in warning or pulled him out of harm’s way. Stars, he would’ve jumped in front of the deathly bolt himself if it meant Sparks was still standing at the end of the day.

The two of them had grown close over the past few months, especially after Thumbs learned the story behind Sparks’ name. He could tell that his brother’s outwardly gruff attitude was just a shield used to protect the sensitive, guilt-ridden soldier beneath. Even one offhand criticism of his work as a mechanic could bring him back to the accident and a past he wished desperately to forget.

Because of this, Sparks would often work through the night, losing himself in the wires and circuits of the ship to ensure he didn’t make the same mistake twice. Thumbs was always at his side reminding him to take breaks, to drink water when he was thirsty, to eat when pangs of hunger hit...

But there was little he could do for Sparks now as he lay unconscious in the hull of the Clover.

Pepper had done everything he could, luckily managing to stabilize their brother within a few hours of the incident. Sparks was slowly showing signs of improvement — he had even woke up briefly in the early hours, mumbling something about watering Percy, before slipping back into the depths of unconsciousness.

Percy was the name of one of Sparks’ plants, something Thumbs discovered after walking in on his brother affectionately repotting it in a moment of assumed privacy.

He smiled at the memory, shaking his head in disbelief. It was just like Sparks to be worried about keeping his plants alive while he was barely clinging to life himself.

With nothing to do but wait until his brother woke up, Thumbs made his way into the hull of the ship where he found most of the batch engaged in a lively game of Dejarik. It was a tradition, meant to keep the batches' spirit alive when faced with tough times.

He almost started towards them when he felt a presence to his left, distanced from the laughter of the others.

Thumbs’ gaze landed on Ryder as he stared out of the cockpit window absent-mindedly, though he knew from his expression that his mind was anything but absent.

Thumbs approached slowly, not wanting to startle the squad’s weapons specialist.

“Hey Ry, you alright?”

Ryder glanced up, a flash of surprise illuminating his expression, before looking back down, his face once again shrouded in darkness.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” A barrage of laughter sounded from the other side of the room, where everyone was still gathered. “Think I’m gonna go for a ride though.”

“Oh, okay…” Thumbs replied, wanting to say more to his obviously-distracted brother. “Mind if I tag along?”

“You always do,” Ryder said, shooting him a small smirk.

“Hey!” Thumbs laughed, punching his shoulder lightly.

Ryder chuckled, nodding for Thumbs to follow him to the far corner of the hull. Once there, he opened the weapons cabinet, extracting a couple blasters and holstering them on his form.

Thumbs looked at his brother questioningly.

“Just in case,” Ryder said, carefully checking over his chosen artillery.

Thumbs nodded quickly, admonishing himself for not thinking more practically, especially after what happened with Sparks. It was a dangerous thing to give the galaxy the benefit of the doubt.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The planet they were currently docked on was beautiful. The hues of its rolling hills were softened by the dying light, the gentle breeze transforming the tall grasses into golden waves. The sky’s colors evolved with each passing minute, all evidence of the previous night’s storm lost to its changing shades.

It was Thumb’s favorite time of day. At dusk the light never seemed harsh; it was sympathetic, understanding. It hovered, never fully settling, like a cloud. But dusky light was also ephemeral. Thumbs wished he could freeze it, trap it in a jar and release it when he needed its soft companionship.

He knew too many people like dusk: perfect, until they were gone.

“It’s pretty here,” Thumbs eventually broke the silence, a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” Ryder replied as his eyes traced the horizon, “It is.”

“That why you’ve been coming out here so often?”

Thumbs knew his brother liked to take his speeder out on rides whenever he needed a break from the confines of the Clover. He would even accompany him from time to time. But recently he had been escaping much more frequently and Thumbs couldn’t help but worry that something else was going on.

Ryder chuckled lowly. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“Hey, you’re kinda hard not to notice.” Thumbs smirked, gesturing a hand towards his brother’s head: “Ya know, cause of the hair.”

Ryder grinned, blowing a stray strand out of his face. “Yeah, sure thing curly.”

Thumbs ran a hand through his own coily locks with a shy shrug.

The two brothers fell into a comfortable silence as fireflies blinked to life around them. Thumbs pretended they were shooting stars, closing his eyes and wishing for the speedy recovery of Sparks back onboard the Clover.

After a while, the air seemed to become heavy and Thumbs could tell that Ryder needed to get something off of his chest.

His suspicion was confirmed when he heard his brother sigh deeply, preparing to speak.

“Lately…” he started, tugging on the end of his turquoise braid. “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

Thumbs nodded and moved to sit beside him in a subtle gesture of comfort.

“About them?”

Ryder nodded, knowing Thumbs was referencing his past squad.

“I’ve been having the dreams again.”

Thumbs’ face fell. He remembered the night he found out about Ryder’s nightmares as if it were yesterday.

He had been awake in the hull of the ship, too afraid that something bad might happen if he allowed himself the privilege of closing his eyes. Ryder had started tossing in his sleep, muttering the names and numbers of unfamiliar clones. Thumbs shook his brother awake, eventually guiding him outside of the ship when he struggled to regain his breath. The two of them had sat on the Clover’s ramp until long after the sun rose, each finding comfort in the other’s presence.

Since then, the nightmares had decreased, but every now and again they would return. The guilt would return.

“In the dream, I’m back on the venator,” Ryder described, his voice hoarse. “First there’s the flashing lights. Then voices, their voices, but they eventually fade away and then there’s just static. For a moment, everything is quiet, just a faint buzzing...”

Thumbs gave his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, letting him know he was still there, still listening.

“And then I’m in the escape pod. As I’m drifting away, I look back towards the ship, but it’s not the venator anymore. It’s the Clover.”

He paused, swallowing thickly.

“And then it’s just gone. Swallowed by fire.”

The unsettling images unearthed feelings that Thumbs never had the courage to voice out loud, but the anxious thrumming of Ryder’s fingers on the side of the speeder reminded him of his current task: to show his brother that he was there for him now, regardless of what happened in the past.

“Ry, I know there’s not a lot I can say. But know that they would’ve been so proud of you, of the soldier and brother you’ve become,” Thumbs reassured gently. “We all are.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryder mumbled.

Thumbs frowned, knowing his brother wasn’t convinced.

“Well, this was supposed to be a surprise, but it looks like you need it now.”

Thumbs pulled out the pack he had brought with him, rifling through it until he found a small bundle. He nervously presented it to Ryder, who observed the way it had been carefully packaged in colorful gift wrap and adorned with stickers, most likely donated by Pepper.

“I made this for you,” Thumbs spoke as Ryder opened the parcel. “It’s a blanket, obviously, but it’s… Well, it’s got a little more to it than that. Each row of stitches is made of yarn from all the different places we’ve been to as a batch. Thought it could be cool to see how far we’ve all come. But I also know how important it is to you that we honor our pasts, so down here,” Thumbs pointed at the bottom left corner, “I stitched in the names of CT-2019 and CT-1882. And over here is General Lyle’s.”

Thumbs looked up at Ryder, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, not really, but I thought maybe it could help you sleep at night.”

There was a long moment of silence as Thumbs began to doubt the impact of his gift. The whole idea was starting to sound stupid now. Maybe if he had-

“I… Thank you, Thumbs.” Ryder finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly. “Really. It’s- It’s perfect.”

Thumbs grinned, glad to see the glimmer of hope return to his brother’s eyes. “Of course, anything for my vod.”

Ryder held the blanket close, tracing his finger over the carefully stitched names of his old squad. His eyes scanned over the various colors and textures that Thumbs had incorporated, recognizing yarn from planets they hadn’t been to in years. How long had his brother been working on this?

He was just about to ask when a subtle movement drew his own gaze downwards. Thumbs was quietly bouncing his right leg, a nervous habit that Ryder had picked up on throughout their time together. He doubted that Thumbs was even aware of his own anxious mannerism, but Ryder could tell that something was on his mind.

“Hey, vod?” Ryder placed the blanket down, his focus now on his brother.

“Yeah?” Thumbs replied, still staring straight ahead.

Ryder thought back to something his companion had told him just moments ago, something that had made him feel important, valuable, seen.

“People notice you too.”

Thumbs chuckled, thinking back to when he invited himself to join Ryder on his impromptu speeder trip just hours before. “Yeah, I guess my constant pestering makes it hard not to.”

“Yeah...” Ryder continued, almost hesitantly. It would be harder getting through to his brother than he thought. “But we also notice why you do that.”

“And why’s that?” Thumbs asked casually, not quite sure where Ryder was guiding the conversation.

“Because you care.”

At this, Thumbs finally met his brother’s eyes, confusion painting his features. The words were simple, yet something about them did not fully compute.

“No matter how many idiotic things we pull, you’re always there for us.”

Thumbs held his brother’s gaze, considering his words intently, before looking down to his feet. He frowned before mumbling something, barely audible above the light breeze:

“Not when it counts.”

The words sliced through the air, contrary to the soft tone in which they were spoken. Ryder couldn’t help the immediate snap of his head towards his brother.

“What do you-”

“Yesterday, with Sparks,” Thumbs interjected, his voice gaining strength. “No amount of pestering could’ve helped him.”

There was something about the way Thumbs was speaking — something that Ryder had missed before, something familiar — that was unravelling with each passing moment.

“But he’s okay now, he’s fine,” Ryder tried to console, his brow furrowed.

Thumbs scoffed. “That was just luck. I heard what Pepper said: If his injury had been just an inch to the left…” He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly.

“Well, luck is kinda our thing,” Ryder said, repeating words that Pepper had spoken to him when he first joined the batch.

“But I don’t want it to be!”

Ryder looked up in shock. In the entire time he had known Thumbs, he had never once heard him raise his voice. But shock soon turned to concern when he noticed the tears streaming down his brother’s face.

“I don’t want to rely on luck,” Thumbs choked out, his voice softening. “Not… not when it comes to the people I care about.”

Helplessness.

Ryder was well-acquainted with the feeling — the image of his former general on the other side, the wrong side, of an escape pod window, forever etched into his memory. He tried to think of something to say that could comfort his brother, but the only words that came to mind were the ones Thumbs had already spoken to him moments before.

The whole batch knew that Thumbs had always struggled to take his own advice and that reminding him to do so never seemed to have an effect. It was unusual to see him in such a vulnerable state, something the former-strategist was well aware of as he avoided his brother’s gaze, shame written across his tear-stained features.

Ryder cringed at the sight, knowing he would need to take a more unconventional approach to offer his brother reassurance, one that would hopefully provide him with a fragment of control in a galaxy that seemed to feed on chaos.

Ryder nodded once, steeling himself, before reaching down and pulling his twin blasters out of their respective holsters.

“You know,” he started, attempting to keep his voice level, “I got these from CT-2019 and CT-1882. They were graduation gifts.”

Thumbs turned his head curiously, wiping away a stray tear in the process. A small part of him fought back the urge to smile: unlike his brother, he had been given craft supplies and a book for graduation.

“I could teach you how to shoot ‘em, if you want.”

Thumbs looked towards his brother incredulously.

“Ry, I’ve shot a blaster before...”

Ryder exhaled breathily, a playful grin gracing his features. “Ah, not ones like these. These here are DC-17 hand blasters.” He held his weapons in front of himself reverently. “They’re more powerful than your standard blaster, more efficient too.”

Thumbs hesitated, his confusion at the sudden shift in topic still evident, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, sure.”

Ryder spent the next few minutes guiding Thumbs through the best way to handle the blasters — helping him correct his stance, improve aim, and prepare for recoil. The process was strangely reassuring, giving Thumbs something tangible to hold onto, something he could control.

“Hey, Ryder?” Thumbs asked, looking down at the weapon in his hands, the echoes of its former owners serving as a comforting reminder that those who were gone could still protect their brothers who lived to fight another day. Maybe when Thumbs was gone, he could do the same.

“Thank you.”

Ryder had just begun to respond when a noise sounded from behind them.

Thumbs startled and spun on his heel, impulsively throwing the first thing he could think of towards the nearby bushes: Ryder’s blaster.

He mentally facepalmed as his brother jumped off of the speeder, aiming his remaining blaster towards the sound. He held out a hand as he crept closer to the bushes, silently telling Thumbs to stay back.

A tense moment passed, before a tooka revealed itself from behind the bush.

Thumbs sighed in relief before looking up at Ryder guiltily.

“Probably not the best use of the blaster,” he said with a cringe.

“What, you wanted to shoot it?” Ryder questioned breathlessly, a smirk growing across his features.

“No, of course not!” Thumbs smiled, relieved that his brother didn’t seem upset over his moment of panic. The tooka sauntered up to him, rubbing its head against his legs.

Ryder retrieved the discarded blaster and walked back towards the speeder, the remnants of a smirk still visible on his face. “Well, looks like good things can come from bad luck.”

“Yeah,” Thumbs huffed, looking down at the small animal by his feet. “Guess so.”

And maybe that’s what Clone Force 37 was: a group of outcasts who were all in the process of turning their histories with bad luck into good things — good luck.

“C’mon, hop up,” Ryder said as held out an arm. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Thumbs let himself be pulled into the speeder, the firm grip of his brother’s hand a silent reassurance: I’m here for you.

He leaned back, his eyes reflecting the stars that had started to appear above. He wondered how many of them he couldn’t see, how many millions of lives were being lived just out of his view.

Thumbs glanced over to the brother at his side, thinking about how lucky he was to have crossed paths with him, with all of them, in a universe of infinite proportions.

“We should probably pick up some caf for Sparks on the way back… I know he’ll want some when he wakes up,” Thumbs spoke, laying all the way back in the speeder.

Ryder nodded in agreement as they lurched forward. The sun had finally disappeared from view and the two soldiers soon became mere silhouettes against the dimming night sky.

But anyone familiar with Clone Force 37 knew that they were so much more than two small blips on the horizon:

They were brothers.

And Thumbs was positive that nothing in the galaxy could ever change that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

@the-lucky-batch @lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @foxlock @maygalodon @mango-peachjuice @radbatch @letsunity @burnthashbrown27 @generaltano @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @namesmox @monako-jinn-stories @longearedowlfromouterspace @lusiawonder @just-another-dreamerr

#the lucky batch #clone force 37 #fam force 37 #cf37 thumbs #cf37 sparks #cf37 ryder #cf37 ballast #cf37 luna #cf37 foxy #cf37 pepper #cf37 kenhla #cf37 brisk

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reallifesultanas · 4 years ago

Text

Portrait of Turhan Hatice / Turhan Hatice portréjra

PS before reading: Sorry that I did not use Hande Dogandemir as Turhan, but she is just not Turhan for me. She is an amazing actress and a pretty woman, but she was nothing like Turhan. Meanwhile Yasemin Allen in the ultimate Turhan for me, so yeah...:D

Origin and education

Turhan Hatice was a Slavic woman of Russian descent, born around 1627. She was captured by the Tartars from her homeland, the Russian steppes, so she came to Istanbul as a child in the second half of the 1630s. Here, of the many slaves, she had a relatively fortunate fate, for she was bought by a pasha from slave traders. Later the pasha gifted her to Burnaz Atike Sultan's service. We are un such a lucky situation that we know some hints about Turhan’s appearance. They say she was very white skin, had blue eyes, brown hair (others suggest she was blond), and was tall.

Atike Sultan, who was the daughter of Ahmed I, noticed the beauty and talent of the girl, so she paid special attention to her education. Based on the subsequent relationship between the two, we can guess that Atike treated the girl very well, and practically a very close, fraternal relationship developed between the two women. Atike was also almost a mother figure to Turhan’s child as well, which makes it clear that the relationship between the two women remained very close throughout their lives. Turhan, with such a background and education, was a very special gift to Atike's younger brother, the new Sultan Ibrahim I. According to others, Atike gave the girl to Kösem Sultan and eventually she introduced her to Ibrahim.

Her life with Ibrahim I

We do not know the order in which Ibrahim’s concubines were given to him, presumably the mothers of the three eldest children, Turhan Hatice, Hatice Muazzez, and Saliha Dilaşub became Ibrahim’s concubines roughly at the same time. However, Turhan was the first to become pregnant and give birth to a boy in January 1642. We would think that, as the mother of the heir to the throne, she received particularly great respect and special authority. However, none is true. The relationship between Ibrahim and Turhan soon deteriorated greatly. And in general Ibrahim's concubines could not really gain power for themselves because of their mother-in-law, Kösem Sultan. Turhan Hatice probably had another daughter shortly after Mehmed, Atike, but they probably had no more children together. This is not surprising, since there was an open conflict between Turhan and Ibrahim before or around 1645, after which both Turhan and her son were pushed into the background.

The wet-nurse of Prince Mehmed and her son were very much liked by the sultan, who constantly spent time with the nurse's son, Osman, considered him as his own son, while he pushed away Mehmed. Raising a slave’s son as his own caused a huge anomaly in the harem and triggered a lot of rumors. Turhan could not tolerate the humiliation of her son, the heir to the throne, so some said she directly questioned Ibrahim. Others say she sent the wet-nurse out of her service, who in turn complained about Turhan’s behavior to the sultan. Either way, Sultan Ibrahim became angry and his anger was directed at Mehmed. He staged a huge scene, then tore Prince Mehmed out of his mother's arms and threw him into a cistern. The child suffered severe head injuries but survived the incident without permanent damage after the servants rushed to his rescue immediately. For the rest of his life, Mehmed had a scar on his forehead due to this event.

The following years were about dread and humiliation, as Ibrahim became more and more insane, committed more and more inexplicable things, and married one of his young concubines, whom he raised above everyone else. Kösem Sultan and her followers at one point tried to dethrone the mad Sultan to replace him with his son, Mehmed, but to no avail. Lots of heads fell to dust after the rebellion, Kösem Sultan herself was exiled too. We don’t know how Turhan lived through this period, but given the events, she could probably have worried a lot about her son’s life. The relationship between Turhan and Mehmed was very close, perhaps one of the closest during the period of the Sultanate of women. This strong bond may have been formed in the period of common suffering from Ibrahim's madness.

The resurrected hope

In August 1648, Ibrahim was finally dethroned and locked up by the Janissaries and Kösem Sultan. Soon the statesmen flocked to the palace to take Prince Mehmed to the Janissary Mosque to be proclaimed Sultan there. Kösem Sultan did not allow this, did not hand over her grandson. She argued with the statesmen for hours before it was finally agreed that Prince Mehmed would be proclaimed sultan within the palace, as tradition requires. Turhan could finally know her son was safe, she might think everything would be fine, but it didn’t happen that way.

The statesmen asked Kösem Sultan to become a regent to Mehmed IV, as Mehmed’s own mother herself was too young for the role. The statesmen expected Kösem Sultan to prepare and educate Turhan and Mehmed for the task ahead of them, but Kösem Sultan thought otherwise. She wanted to lead the empire, like a monarch. The reason for this was presumably the execution of Ibrahim. The statesmen seem to have executed the former sultan without the consent and knowledge of Kösem Sultan. Kösem Sultan for that reason refused to work with the statesmen, and we can also deduce from the events that she may blamed Turhan also.

Kösem Sultan completely excluded Turhan from political life, but what was an even bigger problem that Mehmed was excluded too. In addition, she did not allow Turhan to act as a legitimate Valide Sultan either in the harem. Kösem Sultan, for example, did not allow Turhan to send away the mother of Ibrahim's other children (except Hümaşah, who herself also hated). With this, she further degraded Turhan's role as a Valide Sultan. She also did not give Turhan the salary of Valide Sultanas (3,000 aspers), she only received 2,000 aspers per day, while Kösem Sultan herself received 3,000 aspers per day as if she was the Valide Sultan. We can accept that the experienced Kösem Sultan did not want to let the inexperienced Turhan, whom she considered unfit, be near the political arena. However, it is undeniable that Turhan had the right to lead the harem, Kösem Sultan, however, refused to let her do so.

Turhan then began to stand up for herself and, with the support of Chief Eunuch Uzun Suleiman Agha, she created her own harem staff and began to control arbitrarily. At the same time, of course, Kösem Sultan did not leave the matter at that, and she also had a harem staff out of her own people. In the end, there was chaos in the harem, people didn’t know which leaders to listen to, to whom to obey. The harem thus split in two, some serving the "Great Valide," Kösem Sultan, while others served the "Little Valide," Turhan. There is no doubt that Turhan was in a better position in some aspects because the most influential eunuch, Suleiman, was on her side.

The rebel

There is a lot of legend and half-information about the year 1651. It is so certain that no one liked the monopoly of Kösem Sultan. Over time, all the statesmen turned against her and wanted to remove her from power. Kösem Sultan's only support was coming from some corps of Janissaries, who, whatever happened, supported her. Turhan took advantage on the fact that Kösem did not have any men in the divan. Turhan, with the help of Suleiman Agha, was able to contact the statesmen and immediately gained the support of some of them. Legend has it that Turhan herself directed the pashas against Kösem Sultan. In practice, however, we do not have sufficient evidence. Nor can we rule out that it was not Turhan who used the pashas against Kösem Sultan, but the pashas used Turhan. Either way, their common goal was to get rid of Kösem Sultan.

By then, Turhan was no longer just worried about Kösem Sultan humiliating her within the harem. The information came to light that Kösem Sultan wanted to dethrone Mehmed and replace him with Saliha Dilaşub's son, Suleiman. That would have meant Mehmed's confinement and death. After all, when Ibrahim I was executed, it was argued that if there was already a sultan (Mehmed), then the existence of the other sultan (Ibrahim) had become obsolete. Others say Kösem Sultan never wanted to do that, only the pashas made Turhan to believe it. Nor can we rule out that Turhan herself invented this excuse to legitimize the removal of Kösem Sultan.

Kösem Sultan was finally strangled during a coup in September 1651 and power passed to Turhan Hatice. Turhan’s role in the events to this day is questionable. I don’t want to go into the details because that alone is worth a post. So a post will be made soon where I will put together a bunch of information about the events around the assassination of Kösem Sultan. In any case, the Pashas and Turhan were able to twist the events so that the Janissaries who supported Kösem Sultan were used as scapegoats, and they were executed. Meanwhile, Turhan and the statemen quietly organized the funeral of Kösem Sultan.

The long-awaited role?

Given her son’s youth, Turhan Hatice became regent, at just 25 years old. She accompanied her son to every important meeting and followed the events behind curtains. More than once she spoke very wisely in the divan. Once Gürcü Mehmed Pasha refused to follow the proposals instructions of Mesud Efendi, appointed by Turhan. Gürcü Mehmed Pasha demanded that his words should be accepted because, as he said, his beard had also whitened in the service of the state so he knowns better. Turhan replied, "Really, pasha! White beards and black beards are not the issue. Sound policy comes not from age but from intelligence. Whatever [Mesud Efendi] says, do immediately; listen to him and discuss everything with him. I warn you, do nothing contrary to his views!" Turhan’s performance within the divan shows well that many did not take her seriously because of her youth, but she did her best to carry out her opinion.

Although she tried to look strong from the outside, Turhan never wanted to do everything by just herself, we know from her letters that before many important events she asked the opinion of the people she valued. From these requests for help, it becomes clear that Turhan was a very respectful woman who loved to keep the formalities as appropriate. In addition, it is clear from her letters that most of the time she was aware of exactly what she should do, she simply wanted confirmation before taking action. These little things suggest well that the image of a cruel and power-hungry woman painted by the world about Turhan may not be real.

Another case that well illustrated Turhan’s personality and political attitude was when the Crimean khan passed away. Turhan then wrote a letter to the Grand Vizier, “You’ve requested a sword and a robe of honor for his successor. From what I hear, it is customary rather for the Tatar Khan to send [gifts] to the sultan. It’s true I’ve never witnessed such a thing but that’s what I hear. Now you examine the kanunnames and act accordingly.” This case shows that Turhan was well acquainted with etiquette, yet she didn’t want to tell off pashas not knowing it. Instead, she asked for confirmation from an outside source so the pashas take her seriously. This also clearly shows the impression of a clever but conflict-avoiding person who, although in a higher position than anyone around her (except her son), did not act rude. In another case, the Grand Vizier did not buy enough wood for the Old Palace. Then Turhan wrote him that, "There is not enough firewood in the Old Palace to boil soup! What’s the reason for this? Is it not a royal palace?".

The greatest task of Turhan's regency was to find a suitable Grand Vizier. Due to the change in the geopolitical situation, the early 1650s were very chaotic, and the Grand Viziers were constantly dismissed because none of them were fit for the task. Many blame Turhan for the economic and political crisis, but this is not valid. Turhan tried to find the most suitable statesmen, but there were not too many suitable persons. Turhan finally resolved the crisis in 1656 at great risk. Köprülü Mehmed Pasha was an extremely unpopular pasha with few supporters but blessed with a genius mind and with a difficult nature. Turhan thought she would be able to break out of the chaos with the help of the pasha. However, Köprülü was well aware of how risky it was to take up the position of Grand Vezier, so he had a condition. He only took the position if he was given a relatively free hand. In practice, of course, this did not mean that he did not report or that he did whatever he wanted, but rather that he took over the regent duties from Turhan. He consulted with Turhan and Mehmed throughout and acted with their approval.

The beloved Valide Sultan

We don’t know what Turhan felt and what she thought with the end of her regency. However, events suggest that she preferred to perform the duties of the Valide Sultan over the duties of the Regent. She continued to support her son in everything, she paid special attention to his education and also consulted regularly with Köprülü, so contrary to popular belief, she did not completely withdraw from politics. In addition to administering politics and harem, she finally had time to embark on her philanthropy and her vast architectural projects. She did her first construction project back in 1652/3, but it was just a fountain in Beşiktaş. She began her first project of real significance in 1658 when she established two fortresses on the Dardanelles. These fortresses were very important from a military point of view, as it made it possible to defend the Bosphorus. This project has increased the popularity of both Turhan and Mehmed. This was soon followed by the construction of the deservedly famous New Mosque. The complex was started by Safiye Sultan in the late 1500s, but with the loss of Safiye's power, the project was halted, and then several fires destroyed its surroundings, so it was almost completely destroyed. So this is what Turhan Hatice started again. By 1665, the complex was completed, with a mosque, school, fountain, library, and market (now known as the Spice Bazaar or Egyptian Bazaar nowadays). After the complex, Turhan embarked on several smaller projects, one of which was the construction of a water network to help people on a pilgrimage to Mecca get water. In addition, the temples of several newly occupied/recaptured areas were converted into mosques and given the name Turhan Hatice.

With her constructions, charity, and because of the relatively peaceful period, Turhan became a favorite of the people. People loved and respected her and her son. Mehmed had grown up enough to rule for himself so far, but he continued to seek his mother’s opinion in everything and considered her an equal companion in both life and politics. Mehmed was not preoccupied with politics, he usually left it to the Grand Vizier and his mother. It is no coincidence that the people believed that the two pillars of the empire were none other than Köprülü and Turhan. The relationship between Turhan and Mehmed is considered one of the closest mother-son relationships in the history of the Ottoman Empire. Turhan never wanted to dominate her son, she never controlled him or interfered in his private life. Yet she would have had the opportunity to do so, as a rival soon appeared in Mehmed's life.

The combined presence of the Valide Sultan and an influential consort did not bring much good in previous decades, so one would expect that this was no different for Turhan. However, Turhan accepted her son’s chosen one, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş, and tried to cultivate a respectful relationship with the woman. She never tried to limit Emetullah’s influence even in the political arena. And Emetullah thanked her mother-in-law this with similarly respectful behavior. Only one case is known is when Turhan confronted Emetullah Rabia Gülnüş. For the sake of Emetullah's sons, she wanted Mehmed to kill his half-brothers, who had lived in solitary confinement for years and tried to persuade the Sultan to do so. The sultan may have been inclined to do so himself, but Turhan's powerful action prevented the execution of Princes Suleiman and Ahmed.

Turhan also maintained a close relationship with her foster sons and never left them alone from then on. Fearing that Emetullah would eventually reach her aim, Turhan took the two princes with her everywhere when she left the capital. Turhan could also be similarly close to one of her foster daughters, Fatma. Since Fatma was buried in the Turhan complex, many believe that Fatma was the daughter of Turhan, however, this is unlikely. Fatma presumably orphaned and was then taken care of by Sultans Turhan and Atike. So when the girl died at the age of seventeen, Turhan arranged for her funeral as if she had her own daughter.

Turhan’s generosity is also mentioned infinitely many times by foreign sources. They were not persuaded to highlight how much she had done for the permanent abolition of the law of fratricide and that she had also stood up against her own son in favor of her foster sons. In addition, we are left with an event of much lesser significance that, regardless of its significance, gives us an insight into Turhan’s personality. The French ambassador reports that Turhan once went to Edirne with a huge escort, with her foster sons and part of the harem. When they reached a bridge, one of the ambassador's men was just there and saw that the door of Turhan's carriage was open. The man threw himself on the ground in fright, lest he be accused of trying to see the Valide Sultan. However, as he was throwing himself to the ground, his gaze collided with the eyes of the veiled Valide Sultan. Turhan then stopped the car and said to the man, "Don't be afraid, son," and gave him 160 aspers.

Last years

In 1681 Turhan's health gradually began to deteriorate. Ambassadors write as "her condition has greatly deteriorated and there is no hope of treatment." We don’t know exactly what Turhan’s illness was. She finally died in 1683 in her late 50s, in Edirne. Since Turhan had stipulated that she wanted to be buried in her own mosque complex, her body was transported to Istanbul. Along the way, the coffin was surrounded by ice day and night to protect the body. Alongside the caravan carrying the coffin of the Valide Sultan, the people cry out loud and the whole empire mourned. According to descriptions, people sobbed and said that the strongest pillar of the state had left the Empire. Turhan was eventually buried in her own complex. Her tomb is one of the largest and most classy of all, indicating that it was built in honor of a powerful Valide Sultan. Her son and several descendants were later buried here. With her death, she became the longest-serving Valide Sultan ever, with 34 years of reign.

Turhan is one of the most misunderstood characters in the Sultanate of Women. Most see her as a violent, willful, and power-hungry woman, blamed for the death of Kösem Sultan, even though Turhan was not like that. She was a mother who was forced to raise her son alongside a crazy, dangerous father; she was a woman who never received love and respect from her child’s father; still she became a powerful woman who always helped the fallen; the only one in the Sultanate of Women with whom her son shared his power equally and who, nevertheless, never tried to exaggerate or control her son. With the death of Turhan Mehmed IV's reign was also sealed. The sultan's reign and recognition were largely due to the character and presence of his mother. As Turhan was no more, Mehmed’s popularity declined, he made more and more bad political decisions. As a result, in 1687, after a rebellion, he handed over the throne to his half-brother, who could survive largely by the grace of Turhan.

Used sources: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; M. Özgüleş - The women who built the Ottoman Empire: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnüş Sultan

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Származása és neveltetése

Turhan Hatice orosz származású szláv nő volt, aki 1627 körül született. A tatárok ragadták el szülőföldjéről, az orosz sztyeppékről, így került gyermekként Isztambulba, az 1630-as évek második felében. Itt a sok rabszolga közül viszonylag szerencsés sors jutott neki, ugyanis egy született szultána, Burnaz Atike szolgálatába került. Valószínűleg egy pasa vásárolta meg a lányt rabszolgakereskedőktől és ő ajándékozta Atike szolgálatába. Turhan külsejéről annyi információnk van, hogy kék szeme volt, barna haja és az átlaghoz képest magas volt.

Atike szultána, aki I. Ahmed lánya volt, felfigyelt a lány szépségére és tehetségére, így kiemelt figyelmet fordított oktatására. Kettejük későbbi kapcsolata alapján sejthetjük, hogy Atike igen jól bánt a lánnyal és gyakorlatilag egy nagyon szoros, testvéries kapcsolat alakult ki a két nő között. Atike szultána szinte anyafigura volt Turhan gyermeke számára is, ami egyértelműsíti, hogy a két nő viszonya igen szoros maradt egész életükben. Turhant, magasrangú oktatása alkalmassá tette arra, hogy Atike egyenesen öccsének, az új szultánnak I. Ibrahimnak ajándékozza trónralépése után. Mások szerint Atike Köszem szultánának ajándékozta a lányt és végül ő mutatta be Ibrahimnak.

Élete Ibrahim mellett

Nem tudjuk, hogy Ibrahim ágyasai között milyen sorrendiség állt fenn, feltehetőleg a három legidősebb gyermek édesanyja, Turhan Hatice, Hatice Muazzez és Saliha Dilaşub nagyjából egyszerre lettek Ibrahim ágyasai. Turhan volt azonban az első, aki teherbe esett és fiúnak adott életet 1642 januárjában. Azt gondolnánk, hogy a trónörökös anyjaként különösen nagy tisztelet kapott és kiemelt hatalommal bírt. Azonban egyik sem igaz. Ibrahim és Turhan kapcsolata hamarosan nagyon megromlott. Hatalmat pedig Ibrahim ágyasai nem igazán tudtak szerezni maguknak, anyósuk, Köszem szultána miatt. Turhan Haticének valószínűleg Mehmed után nemsokkal született még egy lánya, Atike szultána, azonban valószínűleg nem volt több közös gyermekük. Ez nem is meglepő, hiszen 1645 előtt valamikor volt egy nyílt konfliktus Turhan és Ibrahim között, mely után Turhan és fia is háttérbe szorultak a háremben.

Mehmed herceg szoptatósdajkája és annak fia ugyanis nagyon megtetszettek a szultánnak, aki állandóan a dajka fiát, Oszmánt babusgatta, saját fiát, Mehmedet pedig csúnya kisbabának tartotta, eltaszította magától. Az, hogy egy rabszolga fiát sajátjaként neveli hatalmas anomáliát okozott a háremben és rengeteg pletykát indított útjára. Turhan nem tűrhette fia, a trónörökös megalázását ezért egyesek szerint kérdőrevonta Ibrahimot. Mások szerint a szoptatósdajkát küldte el szolgálatából, aki pedig elpanaszolta Turhan viselkedését a szultánnak. Akárhogyan is, Ibrahim szultán éktelen haragra gerjedt és dühét Mehmeden vezette le. Hatalmas jelenetet rendezett, majd kitépte Mehmed herceget édesanyja karjából és egy ciszternába hajította. A gyermek súlyos fejsérüléseket szenvedett, de maradandó károsodás nélkül túlélte az esetet, miután a körülöttük lévő szolgálók azonnal megmentésére siettek. Mehmed homlokán élete végéig ott volt az ekkor szerzett sebhely.

A következő évek a rettegésről és megalázásról szóltak, hiszen Ibrahim egyre őrültebb lett, egyre többször követett el megmagyarázhatatlan dolgokat, ráadásul feleségül vette egyik fiatal ágyasát, akit ezzel mindenki fölé emelt. Köszem szultána és követői egy ponton megpróbálták trónfosztani az őrült szultánt, hogy helyére fiát, Mehmedet ültessék, azonban nem jártak sikerrel. Rengeteg fej hullott porba, Köszemet magát is száműzték. Nem tudjuk, Turhan hogyan élte meg ezt az időszakot, de figyelembe véve az eseményeket, valószínűleg rengeteget aggódhatott fia életéért. Turhan és Mehmed között nagyon szoros volt a kapcsolat, talán az egyik legszorosabb a Nők szultánátusának időszakából. Ez az erős kapocs is talán a közös szenvedésben és hányattatott időszakban formálódott.

A feltámadó remény

1648 augusztusában végül a janicsárok és Köszem szultána trónfosztották Ibrahimot és elzárták. Hamarosan az államférfiak a palotához sereglettek, hogy elvigyék Mehmed herceget a janicsár mecsetbe, hogy ott szultánjukká kiáltsák ki. Köszem szultána ezt nem engedte, nem adta át unokáját. Órákon át vitatkozott az államférfiakkal, mielőtt végül megegyeztek volna, hogy Mehmed herceget a palotán belül kiáltják ki szultánná, ahogy ezt a hagyományok is megkövetelik. Turhan végre biztonságban tudhatta fiát, azt gondolhatta, minden rendben lesz, ám nem így történt.

Az államférfiak felkérték Köszem szultánát, hogy legyen ő a régens IV. Mehmed mellett, mert úgy gondolták, Mehmed édesanyja maga még túl fiatal ehhez a szerephez. Az államférfiak azt várták Köszemtől, hogy felkészíti Turhant és Mehmedet a rájuk váró feladatra, Köszem azonban máshogy gondolta. Maga kívánta vezetni a birodalmat, egyeduralkodóként. Ennek oka feltételezhetően Ibrahim kivégzése volt. Az államférfiak ugyanis úgy tűnik, Köszem beleegyezése és tudta nélkül végeztették ki a volt szultánt. Köszem ezért pedig nem volt hajlandó együtt dolgozni az államférfiakkal és az eseményekből arra is következtethetünk, hogy Turhant is hibáztatta.

Köszem Turhant teljesen kizárta a politikai életből, ám ami még nagyobb probléma volt, hogy Mehmedet is. Emellett a háremben sem hagyta, hogy Turhan jogos Valide szultána szerepében tevékenykedhessen. Köszem például nem engedte, hogy Ibrahim többi gyermekének anyját elküldjék a palotából - kivéve Telli Hümaşaht -, amivel Turhan szerepét tovább degradálta. Emellett nem adta meg Turhannak a Valide szultánák 3000 asperes fizetését, csupán 2000 aspert kapott naponta, míg Köszem maga napi 3000 aspert kapott, mintha ő lenne a valide szultána. Azt elfogadhatjuk, hogy a tapasztalt Köszem nem akarta a tapasztalatlan, általa alkalmatlannak ítélt Turhant a politika színterének közelébe engedni, azonban az tagadhatatlan, hogy Turhannak joga volt a hárem irányításához. Köszem azonban ezt megtagadta tőle.

Turhan ekkor elkezdett kiállni magáért és a főeunuch Uzun Szulejmán Aga támogatásával létrehozta saját háremszemélyzetét és önkényesen elkezdett irányítani. Ugyanakkor természetesen Köszem sem hagyta annyiban a dolgot és saját embereiből ő is rendelkezett háremszemélyzettel. A harc vége az lett, hogy a háremben káosz uralkodott, az emberek nem tudták, hogy mely vezetők szavára hallgassanak, kinek engedelmeskedjenek. A hárem így ketté szakadt, egyesek a "nagy valide szultánát", Köszemet szolgálták, míg másik a "kis valide szultánát", Turhant. Kétségtelen, hogy Turhan bizonyos szempontból előnyösebb helyzetben volt, mert a legbefolyásosabb eunuch, Szulejmán az ő oldalán állt.

A lázadó

Sok a legenda és félinformáció az 1651-es évről. Annyi bizonyos, hogy Köszem egyeduralma senkinek sem tetszett. Idővel az összes államférfi Köszem ellen fordult és el akarták őt távolítani a hatalom közeléből. Köszem egyetlen támasza a janicsárok néhány hadteste volt, akiknek bármi történt is, élvezhette a támogatását. Köszemnek nem lévén embere a divánban, Turhan előnybe került. Turhan ugyanis Szulejmán Aga segítségével kapcsolatba kerülhetett az államférfiakkal és néhányuk támogatását azonnal megszerezte. A legendák úgy tartják, hogy Turhan maga fogta közre a Köszem ellen lévő pasákat és őket irányítva kelt fel Köszem ellen. Gyakorlatilag azonban nem áll rendelekzésünkre kellő bizonyíték erre. Azt sem zárhatjuk ki, hogy nem Turhan használta a pasákat Köszem ellen, hanem a pasák használták Turhant. Akárhogy is, közös volt a céljuk, megszabadulni Köszemtől.

Turhannak ekkor már nem csak az volt a gondja Köszemmel, hogy a háremen belül megalázta. Olyan információk keltek szárnyra, melyek szerint Köszem szultána trónfosztani kívánta Mehmedet és helyére Saliha Dilaşub fiát, Szulejmánt akarta ültetni. Ez egyet jelentett volna Mehmed elzárásával és halálával. Hiszen Ibrahim kivégzésekor is arra hivatkoztak, hogy ha már van egy szultán (Mehmed), akkor a másik szultán (Ibrahim) léte okafogyottá vált. Mások szerint Köszem sosem akart ilyet tenni, csak a pasák hiteték el Turhannal. Azt sem zárhatjuk ki, hogy maga Turhan találta ki ezt, hogy legitimizálja Köszem eltávolítását.

Köszem szultánát végül egy puccs során 1651 szeptemberében megfojtották és a hatalom Turhan Haticére szállt. Turhan szerepe az eseményekben a mai napig kérdéses. Nem kívánok részletesen belemenni az eseményekbe, mert ez önmagában megér egykülön posztot. Hamarosan készül tehát egy poszt, ahol a Köszem meggyilkolása körüli eseményekről tudott információkat egy csokorba fogom fűzni. Mindenesetre a pasák és Turhan képesek voltak úgy csűrni-csavarni az eseményeket, hogy a Köszemet támogató janicsárok legyenek bűnbaknak kiáltva, ők pedig csendben megszervezték Köszem temetését.

A régóta várt szerep?

Fia ifjúkorára való tekintettel Turhan Hatice lett a régens, mindössze 25 évesen. Minden fontos gyűlésre elkísérte fiát és függöny mögül követte az eseményeket. Nem egyszer igen bölcsen fel is szólalt, melyekről leírás is fennmaradt. Egyszer Gürcü Mehmed Pasa elutasította, hogy kövesse a Turhan által kinevezett Mesud Efendi javaslatait. Gürcü Mehmed Pasa követelte, hogy az ő szavait fogadják el, hiszen mint mondta, szakálla is az állam szolgálatában fehéredett meg. Turhan erre úgy válaszolt, hogy: "Igazán Pasám? Fehér szakáll vagy fekete szakáll, nem ez a lényeg. Az igazság és a jó megoldás nem kor vagy szakáll-szín függvénye, hanem intelligenciáé. Bármit is mond Mesud Efendi, tégy annak megfelelően, hallgass rá és mindent beszélj meg vele. Figyelmeztetek, semmit ne tegyél Mesud Efendi szavai ellen." Turhan divanon belüli fellépése jól mutatja, hogy fiatalkora miatt sokan nem vették komolyan, ő viszont mindent megtett, hogy foganatosítsa szavait.

Bár kifelé igyekezett erős lenni, Turhan azonban sosem akart mindent maga intézni, leveleiből tudjuk, hogy sok fontos esemény előtt kérteki az általa nagyra tartott személyek véleményét arról, hogy hogyan kellene eljárjon. Ezekből a segítségkérésekből egyértelművé válik, hogy Turhan igen hagyománytisztelő nő volt, aki szerette, ha megmaradnak a formalitások, ahogy az illendő. Emellett az is kitűnik leveleiből, hogy legtöbbször pontosan tisztában volt azzal, hogy mit kellene tennie, egyszerűen csak megerősítésre vágyott, mielőtt lépéseket tett volna. Ezek az apróságok jól sejtetik, hogy a világ által Turhanról festett kegyetlen és hataloméhes nő képe talán nem valós.

Másik eset, amely jól mutajta Turhan személyiségét és politikai hozzállását az volt, mikor a Krími kán elhunyt. Turhan ekkor levelet írt a nagyvezírnek: “Egy kardot és ruhát kértél tőlem az új kán tiszteletére. Azonban abból, amit hallottam úgy tűnik, hogy inkább az a szokás, hogy a tatár kán küld ajándékot a szultánnak, miután elfoglalja a trónt. Igaz, személyesen sosem tapasztaltam ilyesmit, mégis ezt hallottam. Ezért beszélj a megfelelő tudósokkal, kérd ki a véleményüket és tégy javaslatuk szerint." Ez az eset iválóan mutatja, hogy Turhan jól ismerte az etikettet, mégsem akarta erre alapozva megmondani, hogy mit tegyenek az államférfiak. Inkább rávezette őket, hogy talán nincs igazuk és egy külső forrásból szerzett megerősítést saját szavainak. Ez alapján Turhan okos de konfliktuskerülő személy benyomását kelti, aki bár magasabb pozícióban volt, mint bárki más körülötte (kivéve fiát), mégsem utasított, hanem kért. Ismert persze olyan eset is, mikor hatalmát kihasználva szidott le egy nagyvezírt, miután az hibát követett el. A vezír nem intézett kellő mennyiségű fát a Régi Palota számára. Ekkor ezt írta Turhan: "Nincs annyi fa sem a Régi Palotában, hogy levest tudjanak főzni! Mi erre a magyarázat pasám? Az talán nem egy birodalmi palota?". Turhan tehát egyáltalán nem volt muja, ha szükséges volt hangot adott elégedetlenségének és vasszigorral is képes volt rendben tartani a pasákat, ha arra volt szükség.

Turhan régensségének legnagyobb feladata az alkalmas nagyvezír megtalálása volt. A geopolitikai helyzet változása miatt az 1650-es évek eleje nagyon kaotikus volt, a nagyvezírek pedig egymást váltották, mert egyikük sem volt alkalmas a feladatra. Sokan Turhant hibáztatják a gazdasági és politikai bizonytalanság miatt, azonban ez nem igaz. Turhan igyekezett a legalkalmasabb államférfiakat megtalálni, ám nem volt túl bőséges a választék megfelelő személyekből. Turhan végül 1656-ban hatalmas kockázatot vállalva oldotta meg a krízist. Köprülü Mehmed Pasa rendkívül népszerűtlen, kevés támogatóval rendelkező, de zseniális elmével megáldott pasa volt, nehéz természettel. Turhan úgy gondolta, hogy a pasa segítségével képesek lesznek kitörni a káoszból. Köprülü is jól tudta azonban, hogy mennyire kockázatos a pozíció elvállalása, ezért volt egy kikötése. Csak akkor vállalta el a pozíciót ha relatíve szabadkezet kap és senki nem szól bele döntéseibe. A gyakorlatban ez természetesen nem azt jelentette, hogy nem számol be arról, hogy mit fog csinálni, hanem inkább azt jelentette, hogy átveszi a régensi feladatokat. Turhannal és az egyre idősödő Mehmeddel végig konzultált és jóváhagyásukkal cselekedett.

A nagytiszteletű valide szultána

Nem tudjuk, hogy Turhan mit érzett és mit gondolt a régensség végével. Az események azonban arra utalnak, hogy szívesebben végezte a valide szultána feladatait, mint a régensi feladatokat. Fiát továbbra is mindenben támogatta, különös figyelmet fordított oktatására és Köprülüvel is rendszeresen egyeztetett, tehát a közhiedelemmel ellentétben, nem vonult vissza teljesen a politikától. A politika és a hárem igazgatása mellett végre volt ideje, hogy belekezdjen jótékonykodásába és hatalmas építészeti projektjeibe. Első építkezési projektjét még 1652/3-ban csinálta, ám ez csupán egy kút volt Beşiktaş-ban. Első valódi jelentőséggel bíró projektjét 1658-ban kezdte meg, ekkor a Dardanellákon létesített két erődöt. Ez az erőd igen fontos volt katonai szempontból, hiszen általa védhetővé vált a szoros. Mind Turhan mind Mehmed népszerűségét megnövelte ez a projekt. Ezt hamarosan a méltán híres Új Mecset építtetése követte. A komplexumot még Safiye szultána kezdte el építeni az 1500-as évek végén, azonban hatalma elvesztésével a projekt félbemaradt, aztán több tűzvész is pusztított a környezetében, így szinte teljesen megsemmisült. Ezt kezdte tehát Turhan Hatice újra. 1665-re a komplexum elkészült, mecset, iskola, kút, könyvtár és piac (ma Fűszerbazárként ismerjük) is találhatóak voltak benne. A komplexum után Turhan több kisebb projektbe is belefogott, egyik volt például egy vízhálózat kiépítése, mely segítette a Mekkába zarándokoló emberek vízhez jutását. Emellett több újonnan elfoglalt/visszafoglalt terület templomait is mecsetté alakították és Turhan Hatice nevét adták nekik.

Építkezéseivel, jótékonykodásával és a relatíve békés időszakkal Turhan a nép kedvencévé vált. Az emberek szerették és tisztelték őt, akárcsak fia. Mehmed eddigre felnőtt annyira, hogy maga kezdhessen uralkodni, ám továbbra is mindenben kikérte anyja véleményét és egyenlő társának tekintette mind az életben, mind az uralkodásban. Mehmedet nem foglalkoztatta a politika, ezt általában inkább a nagyevezírre és édesanyjára hagyta. Nem véletlenül vélte úgy a nép, hogy a birodalom két oszlopa nem más, mint Köprülü és Turhan. Turhan és Mehmed kapcsolatát mai napig az egyik legszorosabb anya-fiú viszonynak tekintik az Oszmán Birodalom történetében. Turhan sosem akarta túlragyogni fiát, sosem irányította vagy szólt bele a magánéletébe. Pedig lett volna rá lehetősége, hiszen Mehmed életében hamarosan felbukkant egy rivális.

A valide szultána és egy befolyásos ágyas együttes jelenléte nem hozott sok jót a korábbi évtizedekben, így azt várhatnánk, hogy nem volt ez másként Turhan esetében sem. Turhan azonban elfogadta fia választottját, Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşt és igyekezett tiszteletteljes kapcsolatot ápolni a nővel. Sosem próbálta korlátozni Emetullah befolyását még a politikai színtéren sem. Emetullah pedig ezt hasonlóan tiszteletteljes viselkedéssel hálálta meg anyósának. Egyetlen eset ismert, mikor Turhan szembeszállt Emetullah Rabia Gülnüşsel. Emetullah fiai érdekében szerette volna, hogy Mehmed megölesse féltestvéreit, akik már évek óta elzárva éltek és igyekezett erre rábeszélni a szultánt. A szultán talán maga is hajlott erre, azonban Turhan erőteljes fellépése megakadályozta Szulejmán és Ahmed hercegek kivégzését.

Turhan nevelt fiaival is szoros kapcsolatot ápolt és innentől kezdve sosem hagyta őket magukra. Tartva attól, hogy Emetullah végül célt ér, Turhan mindenhová magával vitte a két herceget, ha elhagyta a fővárost. Turhan emellett hasonlóan közel állhatott egyik nevelt lányához, Fatmához. Mivel Fatmát Turhan komplexumában temették el, sokan úgy vélik, hogy Fatma Turhan lánya volt, azonban ez nem valószínű. Fatma feltehetőleg elárvult és ezekután Turhan és Atike szultána viselte gondját. Így amikor a lány tizenhét évesen elhunyt, Turhan úgy gondoskodott a temetéséről, mintha a saját lánya lett volna.

Turhan nagylelkűségét a külföldi források is végtelen sokszor emlegetik. Nem győzték kiemelni, hogy mennyit tett a testvérgyilkosság törvényének végleges eltörléséért, és, hogy saját fiával szemben is kiállt nevelt fiai mellett. Emellett egy sokkal kisebb jelentőségű esemény is ránk maradt, amely jelentőségétől függetlenül betekintést enged Turhan személyiségébe. A francia követ számol be arról, hogy Turhan egyszer Edirnébe tartott hatalmas kísérettel, nevelt fiaival és a hárem egy részével. Amikor egy hídhoz értek a követ egyik embere épp ott volt és ijedten látta, hogy Turhan kocsijának ajtaja nyitva van. A férfi ijedten vetette a földre magát, nehogy azzal vádolják, hogy megpróbálta meglesni a Valide szultánát. Lehasalása közben azonban tekintete összeakadt a Valide szultána elfátyolozott arcából kilátszódó szemeivel. Turhan ekkor megállíttatta a kocsit és kiszól a férfinak: "Ne félj fiam" és 160 aspert adott neki.

Utolsó évei

Turhan egészsége 1681-ben fokozatosan romlásnak indult. Követek úgy írnak róla, hogy "állapota nagyon leromlott és nincs remény kezelésre". Nem tudjuk, hogy pontosan mi volt Turhan betegsége. Végül 1683-ban hunyt el Edirnében. Mivel Turhan kikötötte, hogy saját mecsetkompelxumában akarja, hogy eltemessék, testét Isztambulba szállították. Az út során a koporsót jéggel vették körbe éjjel, nappal, hogy óvják a testét. A valide szultána koporsóját szállító karaván mellett a nép lerótta tiszteletét, és halálakor az egész birodalom gyászba borult. Leírások alapján az emberek zokogtak és azt mondogatták, hogy az állam legerősebb pillére távozott az élők sorából. Turhant végül saját komplexumában temették el. Türbéje az egyik legnagyobb és legnívósabb mind közül, jelezve, hogy egy nagyhatalmú valide tiszteletére épült. Később fiát és több leszármazottját is ide temették el. Halálával ő lett a valaha volt leghosszabb ideig uralkodó valide szultána, 34 évnyi valideséggel.

Turhan az egyik legfélreismertebb karaktere a Nők szultánátusának. A legtöbben erőszakos, akaratos és hataloméhes nőt látnak benne, őt hibáztatják Köszem szultána haláláért, pedig Turhan nem ilyen volt. Egy anya volt, aki kénytelen volt fiát egy őrült, veszélyes apa mellett nevelni; egy nő volt, aki sosem kapott szeretetet és megbecsülést gyermekének apjától; egy nagyhatalmú asszony lett, aki mindig segített az elesetteken; az egyetlen a Nők szultánátusában, akivel fia egyenlően osztotta meg hatalmát és aki ettől függetlenül sosem próbálta meg túlragyogni vagy irányítani fiát. Turhan halálával IV. Mehmed uralkodása is megpecsételődött. A szultán uralkodását és elismertségét nagyrészt édesanyja jellemének és jelenlétének köszönhette. Amint Turhan nem volt többé, Mehmed népszerűsége csökkent, egyre több rossz politikai döntést hozott meg. Ennek eredményeképp 1687-ben egy lázadás követően átadta a trónr féltestvérének, aki nagyrészt Turhan kegyéből maradhatott életben.

Felhasznált források: A. D. Alderson - The Structure of the Ottoman Dynasty; L. Peirce - The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları; M. Ç. Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; G. Börekçi - Factions and favourites at the courts of Sultan Ahmed I (r. 1603-17) and his immediate predecessors; S. Faroqhi - The Ottoman Empire and the World; C. Imber - The Ottoman Empire 1300-1650; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; F. Suraiya - The Cambridge History of Turkey, The Later Ottoman Empire, 1603–1839; Howard - A History of the Ottoman Empire; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery; M. Özgüleş - The women who built the Ottoman Empire: Female Patronage and the Architectural Legacy of Gülnüş Sultan

#turhan hatice sultan #turhan hatice #turhan #ibarhim #ibrahim I #kösem #Mahpeyker #mahpeyker kösem #burnaz atike #atike sultan #Mehmed IV #emetullah #emetullah rabia #emetullah rabia gülnüş #emetullah rabia gulnus #saliha dilaşub #Hatice Muazzez #telli hümaşah

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moonlayl · 3 years ago

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One of the most wildest takes i’ve ever come across after joining fandom, was that the loved ones of a problematic fav are actually the ‘bad guys’ or the ones in the wrong for having ‘negative’ reactions to the crimes committed by the fav.

Fans’ ability to do insane mental gymnastics to make out the villainous characters into the only possible victims and every other character is suddenly the bad guy, is awful, and so frustrating. (And this is coming from someone who DOES love villains/antagonists/characters who end up doing awful things)

Let’s look at the Umbrella Academy for example. Vanya, literally slits her sister’s throat after losing control of her powers, and then leaves her for dead. She doesn’t call an ambulance or call for any type of help. Just...leaves her there to die. If it weren’t for the brothers who happened to be searching for them, Allison would’ve died. And, the brothers find out that Vanya’s out of control powers, that almost killed Allison, and actually ended up hurting other people, will be the reason the whole fucking world is destroyed within DAYS. I’m not saying Luthor was necessarily RIGHT, to lock up Vanya, but also the amount of hatred this character got for doing so, even though it was a pretty logical action to take, was baffling. From what Luthor knew, Vanya was going to kill everyone in like a day. From the information he had, locking her in that vault would make her unable to use her powers. That’s what they thought. He had a pretty normal reaction given the circumstances. Let’s see, lock up Vanya, who almost killed Allison, is supposed to destroy the world, and might accidentally kill us all, in a vault where she can’t use her powers, or risk everyone, including 7 billion people, dying. I GET that Vanya didn’t have bad intentions. I GET, that her horrible childhood played a huge part in how things turned out, and that her inability to control her abilities aren’t her fault. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s completely shitty to expect people she hurt to just roll with it and be loving angels. Like, was Luthor supposed to go “hey, Allison’s in there, dying, and she likely won’t be able to speak for a long time, and you left her for dead, also you might destroy the whole world tomorrow, but that’s okay because i love you and i’m here for you”???? How is THAT realistic? Yeah, him not locking her up probably wouldn’t have caused her to lose further control, but he had no way of knowing, and it’s really unfair to expect people who were hurt to easily forgive and accept the person responsible for that hurt. Are some people capable of putting that aside, and comforting those who hurt them? Yes, definitely. But it’s unfair to expect it of them, and being reasonably upset/angry isn’t some sort of moral failing.

Another popular example is ROTS. Anakin (who is one of my fav characters) LITERALLY helped slaughter all the Jedi, and stood by as order 66 was executed. He joined the Sith, and he murdered INNOCENT children, dude strangled his own pregnant wife, but yeah sure, Obi-Wan leaving him burning after giving Anakin multiple warnings to stop fighting is the bad guy. Obi-Wan, who lost EVERYTHING in the span of a few hours, his home, his family, and was betrayed by the closest person to him, is the bad guy for not helping Anakin in the end. It’s “Screw Obi-Wan for adding more pain to poor Anakin’s life”. That’s the tragedy, right? Instead of you know “Anakin lost everything he tried so desperately to save because of his own choices, without realizing it before it was too late”. Like, I’m not saying Anakin is an awful character that shouldn’t be liked. I get that shit happens to people to make them hurt others. But it’s ridiculous to blame every single person in the world and not the person who made the ultimate mistakes. Did Obi-Wan and the jedi contribute to Anakin’s fall in the end? Yes, but without realizing it, and it was never their intention. They couldn’t have known. And Anakin made his own choice in the end.

Also, let’s look at SPN. Jack, destined to destroy the whole world, accidentally kills many innocent people, and kills Mary, but Dean wanting to lock him up where he can’t hurt anyone, and not willing to call him family after Jack killed his mom, is suddenly the bad, abusive guy??? Even after being told by Chuck, someone they thought was good, that Jack needed to be die for the world to be safe, Dean is still the bad guy for wanting to do what’s safest for everyone, and wanting to avenge his mom since apparently know one else sees her as a victim of Jack? And it’s worse, because the fandom actually blames Mary for being killed.

A fourth example. In Agents of Shield, Fitz knocks out Daisy, restrains her, and then literally cuts into her neck to retrieve her powers that she didn’t want. he violates her and continues to work as she screams and begs him to stop. He hurts her and betrays her trust completely. He risks permanently paralysing her from the neck down, AND he also threatens an injured Elena, and programs a robot to shoot Mack, yet Daisy being angry and locking him in a cell, after he literally tortured her and acted like a hydra agent, makes her a hardass unlikable bitch?? Mack, who got shot by a man he considered a friend, telling Fitz he’s fucked up, is the bad guy? Really? Mack and Daisy are the awful ones in that scenario, and not Fitz, the man who hurt them both and traumatized them? And it’s worse, because Fitz’ justification afterwards is “Daisy wouldn’t have agreed”. He didn’t even ask. And he continued to defend his actions, and tried to guilt trip her by bringing up past issues that weren’t actually comparable at all.

Why are certain characters expected to be all understanding and forgiving, and expected to just accept those who hurt them with no hard feelings, and hated for not doing so? Why aren’t those characters allowed to have human reactions, but when the faves constantly hurt others, suddenly a character’s background and trauma can excuse it??? It’s so frustrating interacting with fandom like that.

And it’s even worse when the characters that ARE capable of that level of understanding and forgiveness, are treated like the only good characters, even though usually the problematic favs that they forgive do nothing except continue to hurt them and are undeserving of that forgiveness.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 5

First

Pretending to be perfect would be so much easier if she was actually perfect.

Now, Ladybug absolutely knew that she didn’t need to pretend anymore. In fact, there was no way in hell that she would be able to keep up the act…

And so she’d told herself that this was fine, that she was okay with the fact that she was going to be incorporating her life as ‘Ladybug’ more into her actual life.

She’d tried. She really had. She’d worn her normal clothes for the first few days while she was unpacking…

And then she’d sat down next to Carapace on that couch to talk to him like normal humans do… only to find herself falling right back into her persona the moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d pulled her ‘scared civilian smile’ to her face and lied about her progress on her room for seemingly no reason.

That night she went to the store to buy herself red and black dresses to match her usual Ladybug aesthetic.

They’d believe that she was just wearing the casual clothes as temps while she was settling in, probably, it wouldn’t take much to convince them that she actually acted like Ladybug at all times.

Now, she knew that this would only work for a limited amount of time. No one could be perfect forever, and the resident human disaster would have an even harder time keeping up the charade…

But she could keep it up for a while, and ‘a while’ was all she needed.

After all, she suddenly had a proper motivation to find out who Hawkmoth was (she hadn’t really cared before, things were always fixed at the end so she wasn’t all that concerned about it), and Ladybug was never one to do things half-ass.

She had to change everything about herself, though, because she couldn’t concentrate on Hawkmoth if she was constantly worrying about maintaining her facade.

She considered ‘Ladybug’s’ general traits and how to convince everyone of it:

Probably a narc, has her life together, perfect…

Yeah, that would probably be enough for now.

She started by learning the law. She found some cheap copies of law textbooks online.

(And promptly found out by reading them that many of the sites she’d used to buy them were technically illegal. She wrote out an apology in Google to the DGSI agent that might be watching her computer. Did they care? Probably not, but she figured there was no harm in being safe.)

Next was getting her life together…

Difficult, but she figured she’d be able to do it. People did it all the time, right?

… not right.

She stared at the article she found on getting your life together in a few simple steps. She was not at all fond of being called out for all her bad habits and coping mechanisms so bluntly...

Still, it was worth a shot.

She searched through her boxes and pulled out a whiteboard. She pushed a couple pictures of her civilian friends off of it, there were more important things to be doing (also the whole ‘secret identities’ thing…), and started making a schedule for herself.

Ladybug blocked out time for work, working out, and cooking/eating healthy food. It left… very little time to find Hawkmoth…

Unless…

Coffee! The ultimate ‘I have my life together’ drink AND it added a few hours to her day! It was perfect!

Speaking of perfect, she was now going to have to be perfect pretty much all day.

She wouldn’t get a break as a civilian because she worked with models and fashion designers and kwami knows that even perfect isn’t enough for them most of the time.

Even her room wasn’t safe, Chat had proved that by walking in and watching her faceplant (it was a good thing he was stupid or else that might have actually ended up being a problem).

No, the only times she could be herself was when she was 1) texting her civilian friends or 2) walking to and from work.

She was beginning to think this was a lot more trouble than it was worth…

Whatever. She was doing it anyways. Nothing, not even logic, was going to stop her from maintaining her ‘Ladybug’ persona.

She nearly dropped her coffee (which was mostly sugar and milk, let’s be honest) when she heard a knock on her trapdoor.

“Come in!” She said, pulling an earbud out of her ear.

Chloe poked her head through. “The akuma can fly.”

Ladybug fought the urge to groan. She looked down at the empty page in her sketchbook. Gabriel Agreste, the bastard, wanted a design by the next day and he didn’t grant extensions for akumas.

But she supposed saving Paris was slightly more important than her work --.

Wait, if she didn’t save Paris then she wouldn’t have to turn in her assignment…

She saw Tikki giving her a disapproving look, no doubt aware of where her thoughts were currently heading, and rolled her eyes.

She took out her other earbud and got up. “Alright. Tikki, spots on. Is it really a two person job?”

“Master Fu says so.”

“And Chloe says…?”

“Chlo -- I say that it’s a man made of sand. Guess how hard it’ll be.”

“Mr. Sandman, man me a sand…” mumbled Ladybug absently.

Chloe frowned a little bit. “Did you say something?”

She blinked a few times and then smiled. “Just that Master Fu needs to relax a bit more. We’re very obviously overcompensating.”

“True.”

Ladybug pushed open the attic window and they both flew out into the night --.

Wait, night? Wow, it was a lot later than she thought it was. She was soooo screwed on this deadline.

But there were bigger problems: there was a guy floating around on a pillow.

“The Sandboy just checked in! Now nightmares can begin!”

She rolled her eyes under her mask and looked at Chloe. “What does he do?”

“Creates nightmares. Obviously.”

They came to a stop a few buildings away and watched as sand slowly sprinkled down from the pillow that Sandboy was currently riding. The houses that he passed over erupted with screams.

Wow, the sand was really pretty, actually. Ladybug took note of the colors and the way it shone in the night. Maybe she could model the dress after it… she could do those colors, a bit of glitter…

Chloe nudged her shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking about what to do…” … for her assignment, but Chloe didn’t need to know that.

“Got any ideas?”

She forced herself to focus on Sandboy. “His cloud is shaped like a pillow, that’s probably the akuma. It also looks like the glitt -- sand -- the SAND is what causes the nightmares, so we should avoid that.”

Chloe nodded a little bit. “Obviously. What should we do?”

“Knock him off.”

“You’re so smart, I wonder how I’d never thought of that,” she said sarcastically.

“You ASKED me what we should do! I answered --!”

“Hello, ladies!” Said Sandboy as he came around the side of the roof.

Chloe scoffed. “Go back to saying your lame rhyme, will you? We’re in the middle of something!”

Sandboy frowned, his expression a combination of shocked and offended. His voice was much higher when he spoke next: “You think my rhyme is lame?”

“Yes.”

Sandboy looked at Ladybug for confirmation, and Ladybug just shrugged and nodded.

“Ouch,” said Sandboy. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again he’d deepened his voice: “We’ll see how lame you think I am when you’re fighting your worst nightmare!”

Ladybug and Chloe immediately jumped away, because usually people say that when they’re about to attack, and the sand nailed the roof right where they’d just been.

The two women met eyes briefly and an understanding passed between them.

“Still lame!” Taunted Chloe.

Sandboy gasped indignantly and floated after her. Chloe smiled and started flying away.

“I mean, honestly, who thought of that? What’re you ‘checking in’ to? Work?”

Sand barely missed Chloe and she took out her spinning top to get away faster.

A piece of sand hit her spinning top. Ladybug and Chloe gave pause. Would that count? Well, it didn’t matter, at least. The solution would be the same: keep running.

Chloe must have come to the same conclusion, because she shook her head and continued…

Except her strides were much slower now.

Ah. So it did matter.

Chloe whimpered a little bit.

Ladybug winced. Great. So it had taken away her powers, probably, or at least her speed. She needed to wrap this up…

She forced herself to fly faster and she launched herself at Sandboy’s back. He happened to glance back and see her, which wasn’t great as he ascended sharply.

Her hands managed to catch the pillow, and she held tight even when she got a facefull of sand.

She felt flames lap at her ankles and a strangled scream escaped her lips. Ladybug didn’t care how she went out for the most part, but it was not going to be through burning to death. She forced herself to not pay attention to the fact that the fire was travelling up and catching on the hem of her dress and it was creeping along her --!

Nope! Not paying attention!

She swung her legs back and forth a few times to wobble the pillow underneath him until he inevitably lost his balance and fell over the side.

That was the good thing.

The bad thing was that the pillow was apparently Sandboy powered and now Sandboy and Ladybug were both plummeting towards the flames far below. Ladybug flapped her currently burning wings and couldn’t help but mumble a curse when she realized that they definitely didn’t work as well when they were on fire.

As it was, she managed to slow her fall and miss the bulk of the flames by inches.

Still hurt like hell when she hit the ground, though.

She rolled around on the concrete streets to smother the flames and didn’t relax until she knew for sure that they were gone.

That done, she allowed herself to relax with a still smoldering pillow. She probably would have rested her head on it if she wasn’t somewhat worried that some leftover sand would touch her face and she’d have to deal with more fire.

Still, it was over… that was nice…

A foot nudged her side.

She blinked the pain from her eyes and looked up at Chloe…

Chloe pulled the pillow from her weak grip and tore the case.

The akuma fluttered out of the pillow.

Ladybug forced herself to her feet before she was ready.

“Can you hit the akuma or do you need me?”

Chloe scoffed a little, and then paused. She considered for a minute before saying, “Yeah, it’s not like I just faced one of my worst nightmares...”

“Losing your powers is one of your worst -- know what? Doesn’t matter. You can’t even hit it without your powers,” said Ladybug.

Chloe frowned.

Ladybug ignored this. She pulled her yoyo from her waist and tossed it at the butterfly. The akuma gave a pitiful squeak as it was sniped out of the air.

Instantly, her pain melted away. She breathed a sigh of relief. Much better.

She slowly walked over to Sandboy, who was apparently just a kid.

Annoyance flared in her. Hawkmoth was going after kids? This one looked like a toddler!

She forced herself to relax and brought a smile to her face. “Hey, what happened?”

“I watched a scary movie and had a nightmare…” explained the kid.

She nodded a tiny bit and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Would you like one of us to take you home? We can read you a bedtime story and keep the akumas away…”

PleasesaynoIhaveworktodopleasesaynosaynosay --.

“Yes please!” The kid sniffled and wrapped his arms around her.

Noooooooo...

Chloe spoke up after a second’s hesitation, her expression thoughtful: “You were working on something before we left, right, ‘bug?”

Ladybug blinked behind her mask. “Yeah…?” Was Chloe really going to offer to help?

“Ha! Sucks! See you tomorrow!” Chloe smiled and stuck her tongue out at Ladybug, then took off.

Yeah, she should have expected that.

She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the kid. Whatever. She could go read him a story and get him to bed, it shouldn’t take long…

“Where do you live?”

“I don’t know.”

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen

#a miraculous tiktok account #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #adrien agreste #chat noir #nino lahiffe #carapace #alya cesaire #rena rouge #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

Text

Virgil Hugs

@tsarinatorment asked:

Hugs #33: ‘picking them up’ hugs with Virgil&Scott

Consequently, we have a sop fest of total fluff. There is so much fluff, there is fluff on the fluff. I ran out of time - it is now well past midnight on a work night, so this isn’t as long as I would have liked, but it is enough, I hope.

Gonna add this one to the Hugs series I think :D

Many thanks to @tsarinatorment and @janetm74 for the read throughs and support.

I hope you enjoy it :D

Send me a Touches Game Ask

-o-o-o-

Virgil hugs came in many flavours.

So, okay, Scott was the eldest and technically speaking, he was the least likely to need any hugs from his younger brother. In fact, Scott took pride in branding his own big brother hugs because, let’s face it, he was the eldest and nobody wanted to knock him off that throne. Virgil had been quite adamant about it on several occasions.

So only Scott could give the eldest brother hugs and they were very useful for distressed younger brothers, sad younger brothers and even on those occasions where the hug turned into something that could more be considered strangling younger brothers.

Scott wielded his hugs just like any other tool in his arsenal. Expertly and precisely. But it had long been declared that Virgil gave the best brother hugs and if he was honest, Scott was quite happy not to compete.

What exactly made Virgil hugs better than any other Tracy hugs had yet to be determined. The fact that Virgil was the biggest brother probably helped. Not the tallest. Scott and John were still discussing that title. No, his sheer mass enabled the biggest, warmest, softest, cosiest hugs of them all. Virgil was just buff and meaty.

Scott groaned. Meaty. That was a Gordonism, a subject that required a whole other essay to discuss. His fish brother had a way with words that sometimes curdled the stomach.

But hugs, yes, Virgil with his well worn ever so soft flannel and big meaty…Scott groaned again…arms gave the best hugs.

But, as stated previously, they came in many flavours.

The most common was the fond hug. An arm would snake around the victim brother and literally drag him into Virgil’s embrace. You could be standing alongside him, politely minding your own business and for some reason the engineer would just reach out and grab. Occasionally the arm wouldn’t make it all the way around and Virgil would clamp onto a body part and yank. Arms, chunks of uniform or clothing, a random ribcage. There was the time Virgil had actually pulled Gordon out of the pool by one leg. Possibly in revenge. But after Scott had suffered a cardiac arrest, Gordon had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Virgil on the grass. It had cumulated in laughter and a pile of noogie to Gordon’s hair, grins all round.

Yes, his brother had a hug zone around him and if you stepped into it at the wrong time, you were toast.

One of Scott’s favourites was the ones that defied gravity. Those big arms were strong and, on occasion, a little over enthusiastic. Ribcages creaked, hoarse voices begged to breathe, and feet left the ground.

Yes, even Scott had been tackle hugged and picked up off the ground and spun around. It had been after a particularly long deployment in the Airforce. He had been out of contact with his family for a long time. The day he finally got home, Virgil had barrelled into him in the farmhouse hallway, grabbing and lifting both him and his bags off the floor in an excited embrace that spun them around almost twice.

Scott had dropped his bags in surprise and squawked. His uniform bunched up against the ribbons on his chest and the world went around.

“Virg, my god!”

Dropped to his feet once more, he found himself wrapped in a brother who seemed much bigger than he had been when he left.

And he was clinging.

“Virgil?”

His brother cleared his throat, face buried in Scott’s jacket. “Missed you.”

Scott had returned the embrace wholeheartedly.

No words were possible after that as the two youngest realised their biggest brother was home and all hell broke loose as they and the rest of the family congregated.

But the genuine love in Virgil’s eyes as he stepped back to let the ratbags in on the party had stayed with Scott for a very long time.

Of course, there were other hugs that were much less joyous. Ones where everything was dark and hurting and Virgil would pick it up like he had radar or something. Could be linked to his legendary medic-sense. After all, mental health was exactly that. Just another form of health.

There was the time Alan vanished. Up and completely disappeared. This is a somewhat challenging thing to do on a rather singular rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Scott had been on the verge of calling John for a location, but a hand had landed on Scott’s tense shoulder and squeezed gently. They had been standing out on the balcony. Virgil gestured quietly and, looking up, Scott saw the tiny figure of his littlest brother curled up on the cliff just below the roundhouse.

There had followed a mad rush up the peak to make sure Alan was safe, find out what was wrong…because something was definitely wrong…and fix it.

Turned out some asshole online had been bullying Scott’s little brother, ruining the game contest he had been so excited about three days earlier.

Scott saw red and deployed John. The culprit had been found and eliminated.

Very eliminated.

John particularly hated online predators.

But after that conversation, Scott had turned around to find Alan curled up in Virgil’s arms sobbing.

Jammed up against the wall of the roundhouse, Virgil himself had wet eyes and was combing his fingers through Alan’s hair. As Scott sat down beside them on the floor, Virgil pulled Alan in a little tighter. The engineer buried his face in his little brother’s hair and closed his eyes.

In those moments it was like his brother was bleeding something of himself into the person he was hugging. His expression almost willing comfort into Alan.

Of course, Alan eventually dove in for a Scott hug as well, the thirteen-year-old dragging both of his brothers into a comforting pile that was able to push away the nasty experience and eventually bring back their confident little brother. But it was Virgil who performed the hugging first aid while Scott hunted down the person responsible – whether it be via John or other means.

It seemed to be their roles in the family.

And it wasn’t limited to family.

Out in the field it was more caring hands and reassuring touches and words, but it was Virgil’s way of comforting the injured. If he had time, he would talk with the rescuees. Warm and kind words asking gentle questions about their lives, distracting them from the bleeding, the screaming and the horror.

And ultimately holding those they couldn’t save, giving parts of himself to make those last minutes a little less terrifying.

It was after those rescues, those moments, when Scott would have to hunt Virgil down. Sometimes he would find him at the piano pounding emotion into the keys. Other times locked in his studio.

They had a running tally of how many times Virgil had had to replace the lock on that door. Scott rarely took ‘no’ for an answer when he knew a brother was in distress.

But the worst times often led Scott on a hunt across the Island to a remote beach, cliff or other lonely landform. Thunderbird Five’s scanners had been used several times. Times where Virgil was determined to be alone to suffer by himself.

Sure, Scott could respect that…if that was what Virgil needed.

It wasn’t.

Because the hug machine that was his brother needed hugs in return.

Sure, he had methods to refuel other ways, but honestly, these were the times Scott felt a direct transfer of energy was warranted.

Those were the days he would hunt his brother down, grab him and hold him until the trembling stopped. He would sit with Virgil staring out across the ocean either just being quietly beside him, or answering the raging questions of injustice.

Those were days he would drag him back to the couch and they would fall asleep together in front of a movie neither of them was watching. A hand or an arm continually in contact.

Those were the days where touch was needed to give back what was so freely offered at all other times.

Scott’s hugs may be tactical but they were no less full of love.

And love his brother, he did.

Ever so much.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy

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kyloswarstars · 4 years ago

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

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