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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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Walk Away - Tom Hardy smut

The one where Tom is your mentor and really shouldn’t feel this attracted to you.

Warnings: smut, age gap, famous!reader, mentor!Tom Hardy, breeding kink, risky sex, tiny insinuation of a size kink, (blink and you’ll miss), mention of a panic attack with barely any descriptions of it

Word count: 3k>

Tom’s P.O.V.

“Tom.” I stopped rubbing the sleep off my eyes the second my name fell from her lips. I didn’t need her to identify herself - I didn’t need to check the caller’s ID. I’d recognize her voice anywhere, regardless of just how groggy I was. But the tone in which she said my name, the tired, dead feeling shining through it, was what really startled me awake. “Tom, I need you.”

The desperation in her voice scared me, and I was out of bed before I could even realize what I was doing. “You’re home?” I confirmed, waiting only for the expected answer while I looked for my keys. “I’ll be there in five. Hang on tight.”

The night was cold, but I don’t think I would have noticed it if it wasn’t for the chill that had me freezing from the inside. I didn’t even consider changing out of my sleepwear - sweatpants and a loose shirt - mostly because I didn’t want to waste time on something so trivial, especially since it wasn’t that different from what I’d normally wear around her.

I’d known her for over four years now. I’d never witnessed this level of distress on her. In fact, she was never anything short of enthusiastic and happy, a bubble of sunshine that managed to energize everyone around her. For her to be this way, something big had to have happened, and it pained me to imagine just what could have been.

It pained me to imagine her suffering, and not being there to help. So I stepped on the pedal, driving madly, knowing my own heartbeat would only get back to a regular pace once I had her in my arms again, could smell her perfume as I buried my face in her hair.

She wasn’t by the door when I got to her house, so I let myself in with the extra key that I had, noticing all the lights were off. There was only one place she could be.

My feet took me there without even having to think about it, like there was some sort of instinctive calling from her body to mine. When I got to her bedroom, a dim light showed just how effective that connection was, as I pushed in to find her laying on her bed, waiting for me.

“What happened?” She sat up when I pushed the door open, quietly closing it behind me, and for a second there was no reaction as she took in my presence, like she needed time to realize I really was there. But then her eyes glistened, denouncing a flow of tears, and she just shook her head, as if asking me to contain my curiosity for just a bit.

“Can you just hug me?” She asked, and I felt my heart squeeze at the realization of just how unaware she was of my feelings for her. I’d do anything, anything for the woman in front of me. A hug was nothing, and I ached to have her in my arms anyway.

I sat by her side and immediately, she was on me, climbing on my lap until she could hide her face on the crook of my neck, and I froze only momentarily before wrapping my arms around her smaller body. Despite how wrong it morally felt - particularly when I remembered I wasn’t wearing any type of underwear - I couldn’t deny how right it was to both my heart and my body, how much it comforted me to feel her this close.

So there we stayed, for God knows how long. We didn’t speak - I was waiting for her decision to explain what had happened, and she clearly needed to come to terms with whatever it was. Just being there for her was enough for me, so I kept rubbing her back, eventually pulling away to press kisses on her temple, trying to ignore how her little sighs of comfort made me feel.

“I-I think I’m ready to talk.” The second I couldn’t feel her warm breath against my neck anymore, I felt cold again, but to my surprise, she didn’t climb down my lap, didn’t try to put some space between us.

Instead, her arms remained around my shoulders, fingers playing with the collar of my shirt, making me shiver every once in a while when her nails dragged along my flesh.

“Okay,” I encouraged, only because she seemed nervous to say whatever it was that she wanted to tell me, her eyes avoiding mine before she finally managed to meet my gaze again, after taking a deep breath.

“Shawn broke up with me.” A sharp inhale resonated throughout the room, and it took me a few seconds to figure out it had been my own doing. I’d never liked her boyfriend, not ever since she first told me they had been going out, and despite how hard I tried to hide it from her, she had always been aware of my true feelings for him.

Knowing he was the one to blame for her current state of mind only served to turn my concern into anger.

“Why?” That was the only thing I could think to ask, the only thing I could focus on as I struggled not to throw her on the bed and run out after him. But I’d never be able to leave her alone, especially not since she was so clearly vulnerable.

There was another second of hesitation before she finally revealed, “It was because of you, actually.” Now that froze me into a state of shock. I couldn't speak, couldn’t think, all I could do was stare down at the face of the woman I loved who looked like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me.

“What?” Her giggle made my heart skip a beat for a second. It felt good to know that she was already starting to feel better, it felt even greater to know that I was the reason for her laughter, even if I was still fucking confused.

“Don’t worry about it.” Now that just wasn’t good enough. I needed to know, needed to understand. How had I been the cause for their break-up? But she didn’t seem too eager to open up about this specific part of her day, and so I decided to break out the big guns.

I laid her down on the bed, hovering over her so our eyes remained connected. “Tell me,” I quietly begged, and although she still looked anxious, I knew she was close to breaking. “I really want to know.”

She sighed, eyes closing for only an instant and for that instant, I allowed myself to believe that she was breathing me in, appreciating the feeling of being covered by my much larger body, exactly like I did.

“He was jealous,” she finally admitted, but the frown in my face only deepened, asking her for more information. “He felt like I prefered your company over his, which to be fair, it’s the truth. When I’m with you, I never want to leave.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I just stood there, frozen, looking deep into her eyes, searching for any sign of mockery, but found none. She looked hurt, but not like she regretted what happened. It just looked like she needed me there.

And so I stayed. I laid down by her side on the bed and pulled her to me, so her head rested on my chest, and I thought. I thought long and hard about what she’d told me and about how I felt. I thought so much, in fact, that I could see a panic attack forming, as the weight of my feelings threatened to suffocate me, and before I could realize what I was doing, I was already sitting up on the bed and looking for my keys.

“Where are you going?” She rubbed the sleep off her eyes as she tried to understand what was happening, but to be quite honest, I didn’t understand it myself. I just knew I needed to get the hell out of there, or I would end up saying something I’d regret. “I’m so comfy, can’t you just stay?”

It was so hard to breathe that my chest heaved with the labour of getting each breath in and out, so I forced myself to focus on it, stopping only for a few seconds, but it was enough to have me spilling things I’d been managing to hide for years.

“Don’t ask me that. Please.” My voice sounded hoarse, like I hadn’t used it in too long. “Because I’ll stay, and it’ll only hurt me further.” That caught her attention, wiping any remnants of sleep from her in an instant.

“I wish I could walk away from you. Time and time again I wished for it, when you began dating that jerk, when I first realized I had feelings for you… but I just can’t. I’d do anything for you. All I can think about is you, all the fucking time. I want you so fucking much. I love you way too much. And being just your friend, your mentor, your confidant, is killing me.”

I closed my eyes to catch my breath, trying to focus, trying to make anything make sense again. In that time, I feared the worst. I thought about her leaving, her hand leaving a warm imprint on my face as she slapped me. I thought about her (rightfully, in my mind) accusing me of betraying her, calling me a monster, a pervert.

I thought I had imagined every possible scenario, but I was still surprised when I opened my eyes to find her seating on the edge of her bed, gaze resting on mine, licking her lips. “I wanna feel you,” she said, and my mind swirled with this unexpected outcome.

“Excuse me?” I scrambled to keep myself up, finding a hold in the back of a nearby chair, my entire body trembling with the effort to hold back, the effort to think and listen, instead of just doing what my instincts begged me to do - pounce on her and fuck her raw.

“I want you inside of me,” she calmly stated, like it was no big deal. It was clear that it was the best way she had found to ask me for what she wanted, but I just couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Y-you want me?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, understanding the delicate nature of this situation, anxious to not let it slip through my fingers nor hold it so tightly it would end up breaking and hurting me in the process.

I closed the gap between us, getting out of the bed to come stand in front of him, hoping the proximity would ease him the same way having his body near would calm me.

“I’ve always wanted you,” I confirmed, hoping he’d see just how truthful the statement was, needing him to see how much more I wanted to say. “But right now…” Without thinking, my hand reached out to fiddle with the edge of his shirt, the sight of the boner struggling against his sweatpants unmistakable to me. “Right now, I’ll do anything if you just touch me.”

A sharp exhale of breath, his warmth hit my face, giving me a taste of what was to come. But I wanted the real thing. I wanted to know how it felt from his lips, to have his tongue forcing my mouth open, making me forget my need to breathe.

“I need you.” I got what I wanted then. His face lowered to mine, mouth finally close enough for me to reach, after what felt like years of desire. And it was everything that I’d always imagined his kiss to be - overpowering, dominating and overwhelmingly him. I was instantly addicted.

When he finally allowed our lips to part, taken by his need to breathe, I slowly began to peel away my clothes, fingers trembling in quiet desperation for him to see this for what it truly was: the meeting of desire and lust after years of denial and repression.

“Please fuck me,” I pleaded as my naked body was revealed to him inch by inch, willing to do whatever would get me what I needed. “I swear I can handle you.” That last part was added almost as an afterthought, when I watched his hand curl around a tightness I’d never witnessed in real life before.

I knew what was going through his head - the fight between what was expected of us and what we wanted, our feelings and our professions, but nothing else mattered to me more than knowing he’d spear me open with his length.

“Lay down and spread your legs for me.” Just that order was enough to have me whining low in the back of my throat, but I did as he said, even held my ankles so his view of me would be unobstructed. But that meant I had to watch him as he knelt by the bed and took a hold of my legs, licking his lips in desire at what he saw.

“Please, please, fuck me,” I repeated, knowing I wouldn’t handle his lips on me right now. I needed his thickness, his hardness, I needed to be filled by him, to feel him inside of me.

“Let me just get a taste,” he tried to convince me, eyes focused on the apex of my thighs. I almost laughed at how it looked like his mouth was watering as he stared at my exposed pussy, but my need was far too great to allow me any sort of distraction.

“Later, okay? You can eat me out as long as you want, just… later.” That had his head snapping up, gaze at last meeting mine with a soft sentiment that I knew was at least half vulnerability.

My poor Tommy. Even after all of my confessions, he still couldn’t believe that what was happening was actually real. He still doubted I would want him in the morning, as something more than what I wanted him when I called him tonight.

“Touch me, Tom,” I quietly asked, raising his hand to where I was aching for him, rubbing myself with his thumb. “Touch me right here, please, I’m begging you.”

Hearing those words fall from my lips changed something in him. Where once he was hesitant, a sudden confident smirk, almost arrogant, slowly spread over his lips, taking over his entire aura.

Tom’s P.O.V.

“So needy for me…” I whispered as I witnessed the truth behind my statement. She was sopping wet, almost dripping down the duvet, and as much as I wanted to get my mouth on her, I could accept that we’d have the time to do that later.

I loved the idea of a later.

“I’ll take care of you, darling.” I whispered as I climbed up her body once more, occupying the space between her thighs like I was always meant to be there. “Let me take care of you.”

I brushed my lips against hers, relishing in this closeness, in the moment just before it all changed. I was sure she could feel the weight of my cock against her thigh, and it was probably what prompted her to wrap her arms around my shoulders, breathlessly telling me, “Yes. Yes, please.”

Hissing as I finally slid my length inside of her, I knew I was in trouble the second I bottomed out, biting on her shoulder to keep myself from groaning and drowning out her delicious little sounds. She felt too good. No one should feel this good.

A broken gasp (or was it a moan) called my attention, taking me from my efforts of restraining myself to her, completely. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I asked, brushing the hair away from her face as I watched her open her eyes and blink a few times, trying to keep tears from flowing down her cheeks. “Does it hurt?”

But she just shook her head, hands searching mine until she could lace our fingers together. “No,” she breathed, hips jutting up in a silent way of asking me to move. “It feels so good.”

I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort not to smile widely at her admission, finally allowing myself to slowly begin dragging my cock out of her tight channel before pushing it in again.

“It does?” I questioned, loving to hear her say it. “Well, I’ll always make you feel this good, baby. How does that sound?” She moaned out loud as I lowered my head to lave her breasts with attention, relishing in every little sound that escaped her beautiful lips as I pounded her on the bed.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, darling.” Another loud moan was all I got as a response, paired with her fingernails biting on the skin of my back. “My good girl, yes?” I insisted, rubbing my jaw against her neck, breathing her in.

I was drunk on her, on this entire experience, still not quite believing it was really happening. She was really here, getting fucked by me. “You’ll be my good girl? Just mine? Forever?”

A smile spread out over her lips, even as she threw her head back to moan a “Yes.” I chuckled against her chest, starting to suck little bruises here and there, wanting to see her all marked up on me, when she interrupted my plans with a breathless comment, “You talk dirty.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I chuckled against her lips, right as she started to convulse underneath me, clinging to my back for dear life. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Her nails scratched me as she found her bliss, and I wasn’t too far behind. As I started to pick up my pace, really milking her orgasm while searching for mine, it was her words that brought me to my ultimate release.

“C-cum inside, I want it inside of me.” I knew she wasn’t in any form of contraception, and I also knew this wasn’t the right time for either of us to become parents, but to say the idea didn’t arouse me was a lie.

Flashes of her young body with my baby in it had my cock twitching, the risk of getting my perfect future right then too exciting. She’d be the perfect mother, I just knew it. And the fact that she would take the chance of becoming the mother of my child right then affected me so much that even after I emptied myself inside of her, I was still hard.

Her fingers played with my curls as I rested my head between her breasts, breathing her in, trying to catch my breath. “I can’t believe I get to sleep next to you tonight,” she said, melting my heart right then and there. “I hate it when you’re away.”

I did too. But I’d never need to be again.

#my fics #tom hardy smut #tom hardy #smut #mentor au #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy reader #tom hardy reader insert #tom hardy reader inserts #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy oneshot #tom hardy rpf #rpf #tom hardy imagine

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guardianspirits13 · 3 years

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I wanna talk about Natsuo Todoroki for a second here.

tw// mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide

Natsuo visibly has the most emotional trauma out of anyone else in his family (Touya not included), and I really wanna talk about why that is.

For starters, we haven't seen him really smile since he was introduced in chapter 187. He's introduced as having a friendly, easygoing persona and it's easy to imagine this is how most people outside of his family know him. However, every time we see him appear since then, another layer of his trauma is revealed and expanded upon, and it cuts DEEP.

I think the main reason that Natsuo still seems so vulnerable compared to the rest of his family is different than what you'd assume. Fuyumi and Shouto both spend a lot of time around Endeavor, and have been in close proximity to his (relatively recent) decision to atone. They have seen his growth firsthand and come to terms with it. Rei has obviously taken a very different path to healing- not entirely voluntarily- but she has been working with doctors and therapists for years to change and recover and reconnect with herself and her children. Natsuo is off at college, and takes every opportunity he can to avoid Endeavor. He (understandably) wants nothing to do with him, and shows stagnant resistance to his attempts to atone.

The reason why Natsuo can't move on from the past is because his trauma didn't come from Endeavor. It came from Touya.

Now initially we were led to believe that it was simply Touya's untimely death that still bothers Natsuo, and it makes sense seeing how Endeavor drove him to the edge. Losing his best friend and brother as a young kid without parents to support him or any therapist to speak of can absolutely been the source of persistent emotional damage, but the more and more we learn about Touya's situation, the more evident it becomes that Natsuo's trauma is much much deeper than even grief.

Touya, as we know, was driven by an ambition instilled in him by his father and experienced extreme rejection sensitivity when those ambitions were no longer realistic. Touya's relationship with his parents could be described as insecure attachment, a psychological term primarily regarding how kids react and respond to their parents and other close relationships. As he was raised, Touya learned to equate his potential to be a hero with his personal worth and similarly confounded attention with love. The difference being, of course, that love is unconditional, but even attention was being continually directed away from him as a punishment for continuing to train and burn himself so he could once again become worthy in his fathers' eyes.

This is where Natsuo comes in. At first it was assumed that all of the Todoroki children were born out of Endeavor's strong-willed desire to have a child that could surpass All Might, but we learned that this isn't exactly the case. I'd argue that it was narratively poetic on Horikoshi's part once this was expanded upon. Fuyumi was born to support and encourage her brother, and that is the exact role she plays 23 years later, keeping her family together.

Natsuo's case is even more intersting.

It was bad enough if Natsuo was only born for the potential of his quirk, but it's even more sinister that the sole intent behind his birth was to discourage Touya from his ambitions. I'd say it was to replace him, but it was more to promote the idea that Touya was expendable than to raise aonther kid with the same ideals but the potential to actually achieve it, although that was definitely a secondary motivation.

The parallelism in this is how much Natsuo's life revolves around Touya. He was born because of Touya, he looked up to and took care of Touya as a kid, and the absence of Touya in the present continues to drive him and his decisions in life (but more on that later).

I continue to pray that we will eventually get more solid backstory on Natsuo and Touya's relationship as kids and where it cut off, wether on a bad note or not, but there are a few things we know for certain. One, Touya was mentally ill. Yes, he was rejected by his parents but he seems to have been particularly vulnerable to this compared to any of his siblings since he was the first of them and thus relied only on his parents for validation in his early years. He shows early signs of a variety of different mental disorders, particularly BPD, which I have previously written a whole analysis for on its own. Touya is shown self-harming both by the very nature of his quirk and even by very directly ripping his hair out. He was incredibly self-destructive.

This is why it is so much more concerning to me that Natsuo, who was AT LEAST four years younger than him, was his primary source of comfort. Natsuo was too young to have known anything more than 'my big brother is sad that daddy won't train him anymore' and he obviously wasn't equipped in any way to handle Touya's severe mental illness. Touya most definitely needed professional treaatment as his forms of coping were abnormal even for the neglect and rejection that he experienced. Natsuo comforted Touya through breakdown after breakdown, and more than that Touya relied on him and came to him voluntarily for support. Natsuo was the best option he had, and he took full advantage of that. The main source of Natsuo's trauma was Touya's reliance on him.

Not to say at all that this was in any way Touya's fault- he was mentally ill and desperately in need of some form of comfort to keep him sane; it was almost a survival method at this point since neither of his parents really acknowleged him at all anymore. Touya's instability hurt Natsuo more than parental neglect ever did, but it was the neglect that enabled it and striped Touya of the supportive atmosphere he would have needed at this point not only to prevent but to heal from the mental damage he had already suffered.

Natsuo dealt with this for years and you can see how much it hurt him to see Touya in so much pain, not only from Endeavor's rejection but from his own self harm as well. For Natuso to know that his brotherly love would never be the same as having loving parents; would neve be enough- but at least it was something so he continued to love and care about his brother for little in return- is indicative of the kind of character he is.

(Edit: After the events of chapter 302 we know that Natsuo's relationship with Touya wasn't perfect. I will elaborate more on this in a different post, but I just wanted to clarify that although we were shown a very high-tension scene between them, it is implied that this was a regular occurrence that Natsuo was usually more receptive too but tired out of, in addition to Touya's spiraling mental health. It fit with the natrative to show the tension Touya was feeling with his family from all directions, but Natsu and Touya clearly had a stronger relationship up to and before this point, evidenced by their sharing a room and playing together regularly.)

He is incredibly selfless, and it's interesting to note how many of his positive qualities as an adult stem from negative experiences as a kid. He never really felt love from his parents, so he relied on Touya (and likely also Fuyumi) for that as well. If he grew up learning he had to give love in order to recieve it back, it absolutely influenced who he became in the future, a solid example of this being the responsibility he feels to reach out and have a relationship with Shouto and further regrets that he wasn't able to help his abuse in the past either. Another aspect of his character that intruigues me is how gentle he is. Personality-wise he seems about as opposite as he could be from the awkward, stoic, emotionally-stunted person that is Endeavor.

There are a couple of reasons for this, beyond what I've already discussed.

One, he had little to no contact with elements of toxic masculinity growing up, especially not from Endeavor.

Two, most of the influence he did have growing up was from Fuyumi, who is established to have endlessly cared for him since he was a literal baby.

Three, he grew up in a household where almost everyone around him was in much more literal, immediate pain than he was so he developed a very strong sense of empathy that might also have been tied to early survivor's guilt.

Now I have one important distinction to make, and that's the temptation to label him as a 'softboy' or something of the like after seeing him caring for his family and more pointedly, watching him break down in tears during chapter 252. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with men being soft or vulnerable (on the contrary it's actually so so important and relevant that Hori is writing characters like this in a mainstream shounen manga but that's an essay for another time), it is unfair to label him as such based on a moment when his trauma is being exposed.

Because his truama stems from such a young age, there is a blurry line between just being born with more emotional intelligence and the situation he was in fostering those traits. You know, the classic nature/nurture thing. My point being, it's important to tread carefully when discussing the nature of his personality to avoid invalidating his trauma; I have no doubt that he is very strong for having survived these things, and the moments we see of him onscreen are definitely among his most vulnerable.

Another thing that people less familiar with Natsuo's character might assume is that he is hot-headed and argumentative. I thought that at first too- after all, he doesn't seem to shy away from yelling at Endeavor when given the opportunity. However, this doesn't seem to be the case at all.

The first real scene we see him in with Endeavor, the man walks into the room and Natsuo decides he can't handle it and goes to leave. However, Endeavor happens to be blocking the doorway. Endeavor physically stops him and provokes him to his face, asking him to say whatever is on him mind. While Natsuo is notably not confrontational, Endeavor is. I think it's fair to say that he felt at least uneasy at this gesture. Natsuo is very honest with his feelings, and it's obvious that he's pissed at the audacity of Endeavor to be so oblivious to his own son. This is presumably one of the first real interactions they've ever really had, and at this point Natsuo has been dealing with trauma (caused by Endeavor!) on his own for years, and Endeavor seems completely oblivious to his pain and dismmisive to the rest of the family's as well.

Again during the internship arc Natsuo tries to get along with Endeavor and this time he actually gives it a fleeting chance. Tensions are high, however, and the conversation very quickly becomes uncomfortable, at which point he leaves. It is continually implied that Natsuo is uncomfortable being around Endeavor because his very presence brings up painful thoughts and memories of a time when sharing the same space as him was a warning to run and hide. This is later directly confirmed by Natsuo as he says that every time he looks at Endeavor's face he remembers Touya and the pain he was in.

I feel like an important side note is that we have never seen Natsuo outside the context of his family, which is understandable, as the role he plays in the story directly relates to them. However, if you take a look at Shouto, even though his experiences have shaped him to become who he is, he definitely acts differently when Endeavor's not in the vicinity.

Back to Touya's death, it would be very rare that someone would mourn a death for an entire decade without finding closure unless there are other factors preventing it, and uncomfortably this seems to be the same thing for both Natsuo and Endeavor: guilt.

This is getting incredibly long already, but it's important to note that Natsuo probably felt an incredible responsibility to take care of Touya and protect him because of his empathetic nature. His love was never going to be the same as having loving parents. His encouragement was never going to be the same as having support from Endeavor. Even further than then neglect and abandonement, it was not being able to save Touya that really made Natsuo feel worthless.

He seems to try and remedy this inability to save Touya and diminish his guilt by doing everything he can to be better. He reaches out to Shouto to be a better brother, he consistently pushes his limits to entertain Fuyumi's notion of a happy family, and he's working hard towards a degree rhat will allow him to help people like Touya (and Rei) because he failed to do so in the past.

His bio mildly implies that he didn't have much of a direction he was heading in after high school, but Fuyumi's encouragement led him to seek out his current college career. This goes back to Natsuo's 'purpose' in a sense revolving arount Touya, from his birth to his relationship with him to his death, after which he lost his direction. They were always rather inseperable, so naturally their seperation hit Natsuo hard. He lost his direction in life so when Fuyumi encouraged him to rediscover it, he thought of helping people, because that's ultimately what he was born to do.

Thank you so, so much for reading this if you made it to the end! I clearly have a lot of thoughts on this. Let me know what you think about it as well, and hopefully we'll get more info on this soon in the manga :)

#bnha 203 #bnha spoilers #long post #natsuo todoroki #todoroki natsuo #bnha meta #mymeta #todoroki touya

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buck-nialled · 3 years

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All Shook Up - T. Holland (01)

NOTE: fuck it, let’s start a new series! a fifties au featuring poindexter!tom x cheerleader!reader, and also a meanie harrison. let me know if i should continue this!

TAGLIST: @niallberry @swiftmendeshoran @theshyspy @clarabsevero @golden-hoax @dudethisiswhyyoudonthavefriends @organicpurplepants @wowitsel @sunwardsss

CH I. LONELY BOY

“Hey Poindexter,” the brunette turns away from his locker, eyes scanning over all of the gelled haircuts and letterman jackets for the nasally voice no doubt summoning his attention. “Where’d ya get those glasses? Geeks “R” Us?” Tom only groans quietly to himself before facing his small cubicle once more. As he tried drowning out the shrill laughs coming from the clan of girls adorning poodle skirts congesting the tiled corridor, the boy takes a sharp inhale through the nose at the sight of a hand slamming the door to his locker closed.

“How goes it, Poindexter?” Tom had suffered enough regular visits from Harrison to know two things. One was to never make eye contact in fear of earning a shiner and a broken pair of specs to trash, and the second was how to ensure he would live another day. “I’m here for my fee.” The proximity between the two allowed Tom a deep whiff of the tobacco Harrison was chewing that morning. Pushing a gag back down his throat, Tom nodded and hastily swung his knapsack around to sift through it. A few moments of silence pass when Tom’s hand zips the first pocket to his bag back up and tries the next one.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Harrison tilts his head in a taunting manner, adding “you know what happens when you don’t have my fee.” Tom curls his toes as Harrison’s fist collides with the door of Tom’s locker a couple of times. The boy shivers at the memory of the last time his lanky body was crammed mercilessly and without regard into the small space. He missed three periods and was forced to wait for the janitor to pass by and hear him pleading for somebody--anybody--to set him free.

“I-I have it...I know I put it somewhere in here…” his trembling hands reached the zipper to the smallest pocket, which thankfully held enough for his lunch. Or, in this case, Harrison’s lunch.

“Ah, thanks, Poindexter.” Tom eyes the hand attached to the leather-clad arm snatch the bills from his scrawnier one. “Try to be quicker tomorrow, eh?” He can only nod in response, feeling the bell to first period vibrate his core. He trudges to first period with his head hung low, already suffering a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut that today would be no good. No day at school ever was for Tom. He accepted that from the very first day he stepped into class lacking a proper haircut and twenty-twenty vision, he would be the pet of every teacher and the butt of every joke, whether he liked it or not.

“I never liked fish stick Friday, anyway.” He says to himself before approaching his usual seat towards the front of the classroom. It was the desk every student feared; apparently, the wooden seat had a stigma for sticking out to the teacher, who would call on whoever sat in it. More recently, it had grown attractive to his peers’ eyes for being infected with “nerd germs”. Truthfully, Tom didn’t think himself all that smart compared to his classmates. The only difference he could academically between himself and those occupying the desks around him was that he put forth real effort into his assignments, especially those which excited him. Sometimes he becomes certain he missed a memo about only being excited over last night’s football game or the malt shop’s new jukebox.

On the way to his desk, Tom couldn’t focus his eyes anywhere except the bright red lipstick complementing Y/N Y/L/N’s lips. He supposes admiring her was an activity he and the rest of the school did enjoy together. And Tom could not blame anybody for their disposition towards the girl. Being head cheerleader with the niftiest poodle skirts in Midtown history were perks that drew eyes and fished for compliments, unlike Tom and his four-eyed, shaggy hair appearance. Tom’s quirked lips fell as he witnessed the sight of Y/N’s opening to chat with Harrison, who claimed the seat beside hers. He tried to pull himself away from the sight by finally sitting his rump down in the chair and reading the list of assignments written on the chalkboard by the teacher, but his ears refused to leave the conversation alone.

Amidst her melodious giggles, Tom heard Y/N and Harrison discussing the big football game tonight. “It’s gonna be bitchin’,” he caught Harrison’s deep voice poking through the rest of the pre-class chatter, “especially since I’ll have you cheering for me.”

“Alright class,” the instructor starts, before taking the roll of the class. Afterward, she sets her clipboard down and clasps her hands together. “Let’s get down to it. It’s time for the annual science fair!” A chorus of groans echoes throughout the concrete walls, but Tom straightens himself up in his seat. This assignment was his favorite of all his classes for many reasons. It was no surprise that each year he wins by a landslide in comparison to the other projects, but he also has the freedom to do it completely by himself.

“This year will be different from the last years, however, because you all will be partnering up with somebody else from this class.” Tom’s shoulders slump, his lips parting in surprise. He was preparing himself to be the last choice of everybody in the classroom. Though it was guaranteed that he would lead himself and his partner to a blue ribbon, nobody would risk social suicide to willingly choose him. “And, before you all flip your lid about who you want to partner with, I will be choosing them for you.” Another series of whines leaves many of the students, leaving the teacher to hush their protests and reach the jar of popsicle sticks located on her desk.

Her voice calling out a succession of names becomes muffled to Tom’s ears. He crosses his fingers beside his legs, scrunching his eyes closed and silently praying for somebody feasible to work with--or really, somebody who isn’t Harrison.

“Harrison Osterfield and…” Her fingers dip back into the jar, stirring the wooden sticks around in a manner Tom is sure is meant to torture him. “Jacob Batalon.” The brunette allows a relieved breath to seep past his lips and hears the two teammates celebrating behind him. Little did they know, Tom was having an internal celebration of his own.

“Y/N Y/LN…” All of the unsaid names in the class, Tom included, held their breath for the lucky person to be drawn. Tom eyes the instructor’s manicured fingers dive back down, swirling all of the possible partners around. Tom shuts his eyes and debates the possibility of his name being drawn. Would it be nice to work with a paper shaker who—more or less—presents herself as an airhead? Yes. But is it worth enduring a possible beating from Harrison if he stole his favorite cheerleader from him? Tom isn’t sure.

Luckily, he didn’t have to debate any further as the teacher drew the next stick, proclaiming, “Diana Ross.” Tom’s eyes darted around the classroom trying to spot Diana Ross in one of the desks, but only found other puzzled stares in return.

“Um,” a friend of Y/N’s who sat on the other side of her in the back of the classroom raised her hand, “I don’t think she’s in this class, Mrs. Weatherby.”

“Oh, my!” Mrs. W giggles to herself. “Her name must have gotten mixed up with your class by mistake. Thank you for correcting me, Barbara. Miss Y/L/N, your actual partner will be...Tom Holland.” Tom nearly gets whiplash from his neck shooting up at such a fast rate. The boy feels his cheeks go red as he turns around in his seat to send his partner a shy wave.

Barbara leans over to Y/N, her mouth agape. “Oh, my stars. You have to be partners with Poindexter?!”

Science class came to an end before Tom could even muster the courage to properly introduce himself to Y/N. In the classes that followed after, he was imagining every possible scenario of how working with the school’s queen would play out. She could leave him to do all of the work. Maybe she would actually give her input on parts of the project too. The worst scenario that came to mind featured Y/N hating anything Tom brought to the table and ultimately earning the two of them a big fat ‘F’ in Mrs. Weatherby’s grade book. By lunchtime, Tom felt sick to his stomach from the smell of lukewarm fish sticks and these various figments.

He approaches the table Y/N is sitting at with her fellow cheerleaders and leather jacket clan, clearing his throat before speaking. “Hey, Y/N.” The clatter of silverware on plastic trays halts as all eyes turn to scan Tom’s frame up and down in dislike. Y/N studies all of the expressions being delivered to her partner and scoffs.

“Hey, poindexter. What are you doin’ over here?” Her voice saying his—unofficial—name still cues him to gulp down his nerves.

“I came to talk to you about the project, so we can figure out what we’re gonna do.” Her friends kept glancing between the two, absorbing every detail of the conversation.

“Uh...okay…” Y/N concedes, standing from her seat at the lunch table. She wipes her hand down the front of her pink, poodle skirt before grabbing hold of her lunch sack and following Peter to an empty table nearby. He tries not to train his eyes on how her hands reach around toward her backside to smooth the skirt down again before taking a seat.

“So what do you want to do?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “What do you usually do?” Peter eyes her hands as they open the brown lunch bag, removing a sandwich and an apple.

“Well, last year I did a study on kinetic energy--”

“Cool, let’s just do that.” She decides, taking a bite from her sandwich.

“What? No. I just said I did that last year.” She rolls her eyes.

“Do you really think they’d notice if you did it again?” Considering he won with his presentation last year, Tom wouldn’t bet on sneaking past the teacher with the same exact concept.

“Yes.” The boy nods his head furiously. “Look, why don’t we just meet up later?” He suggests, only to receive a head shake.

“No can do. The cheerleading captain needs to be present for practice and the game tonight. Unless you want to show up and talk during the game.” She snorts, meeting Tom’s stoic expression.

“What’s so funny?”

“No offense, Poindexter--”

“Tom. My name’s Tom.” He interjects sharply.

“Right. Let’s be honest, you would never show up to a football game for enjoyment. You haven’t even been to one of ours.”

“You don’t know that!” The boy argues but slumps down in his seat as Y/N lifts an eyebrow.

“Really...do you even know our school’s mascot?”

“I...that’s irrelevant.” Tom disputes, face heating underneath her hypnotizing stare. “And for all you know, I could have come to a game to watch.”

“Nope. You haven’t.”

“Really, and how would you know?”

“Because I…” Y/N pauses spewing her argument. Tom sits patiently, eyeing the paper shaker whose mouth remained agape.

“Well?”

“B-because it’s my job as a head cheerleader to keep the crowd entertained at all times. That also includes knowing who’s in the crowd. And I’ve never seen you on our bleachers.”

“Well, you will tonight. Because I’ll be there. And we can figure out what to do then.” From what Y/N had heard of Tom around school, the boy didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. But something about keeping his word to this level seemed fanatical. Even picturing the lanky boy in his plaid shirt and specs slouching on the cool metal seats proved to be difficult for Y/N.

She narrowed her eyes, skeptical. “Whatever you say, Tom.” His name sounded foreign falling from anybody’s tongue except his parents. But he won’t lie, it made his insides flutter from her acknowledgment. He gazed at Y/N grabbing her lunch sack and departing from the conversation until she reached her original seat near her friends. She smoothed out her skirt once again before plopping down in between Harrison and Barbara and flickered her eyes up to meet Tom’s.

Immediately, both looked away. Y/N, to her lunch sack which she was now ripping open to occupy her eyes, and Tom down to his fingers. Seconds pass before Y/N slyly peeks up again, and notices now that the boy is sitting alone and without a tray or bag of food.

She leans next to Barbara’s ear, murmuring. “H-hey, does Poindexter always go without eating?” Maybe that’s why his arms never properly fill out the sleeves of his sweaters, or why his belt always needs extra notches from a pocket knife, she thinks to herself.

“Who cares?” Barbara inquires between obnoxious chews of her pink bubblegum. “Maybe it’s a new nerd diet or something.” Y/N only hums but feels her eyes narrowing down in suspicion yet again. Harrison nudges her shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.

“Will you wear my jacket tonight at the game? It’d only feel right to leave it in your hands.” The boy smirked, trailing his eyes up and down her figure.

“Absolutely.” A smile crawls onto her lips as she stares at his wandering eyes. She cannot fight the fact that hers want to do the same, and they flicker back over to where Tom was sitting, only to find the table clear.

She wonders if tonight will be the night she looks for his face in the crowd and finally finds it.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland au #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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gospelofme · 3 years

Text

47 Thoughts While Watching Part 1 of The Bad Batch season finale (spoilers ahead!!!!!)

“They’ll still come for you”. Ugh that sounds so sad. He’s confident about it too.

How did Echo get so good at ship repairs? Unless basic ship crap is mandatory for sudden repairs. Which I guess if you hang with Skywalker, that’s a requirement.

Aaahhh, the Kamino theme is memorable.

So I wonder if Rampart planned to leave Crosshair on Kamino all along?

I love the fact the Kaminoans kept secrets from the Republic/Empire. Like using their credits to fund their own projects.

I wonder how Omega knew about that platform….I didn’t think she’d ever left Kamino. Unless she went there with Nala Se for whatever.

Damn, I’d hate always getting wet when I go outside.

So the pad and lift are proximity sensor based. Not weight.

So the tubes aren’t documented on any schematics. So none of the blueprints that Tech has access to have them on there. That means one of two things:

- there are “official” and “unofficial” blueprints. Like some the Republic were given and the actual plans.

- Nala Se had the tube system built specifically for her.

Private research lab doesn’t mean secret…but still, why did she get a private one? Was it just to create the enhanced clones? Or was it used for more “off the records” projects?

And if there are other tubes that run throughout Kamino, and they’re all secret, WHY!? Like why do they exist? Surely the Kaminoans know they can just go wherever they want whenever they want because they fucking live there. Unless….they became prisoners in their own home….

About how uncomfortable Omega is having to go to the lab…

“why would I be?” He sounded like he rolled his eyes there.

The amount of salt that is being sprinkled by Crosshair right now.

“We didn’t have a choice?”

“And I did?”

Okay so when I first watched this episode, I thought that meant he no longer had his chip. But now I see it as Crosshair not having a choice because Hunter had committed treason by what his orders were telling him.

Also, I love the colors used in the control room. Idk why. They just all work. I think it’s because the rest of that place is so blinding with white light.

So how did they build the tubes under water….

“Most in Tipoca City don’t know about it.” So some do.

Omega sounds so sad. Honestly since I’m certain there were more than just five enhanced clones, since Nala Se said that that was all that remained, I wonder if Omega saw the clones that didn’t survive the experimentation.

About how Tech always looks like he’s texting. I’m waiting for him to take a selfie with Echo or something.

About Hunter still trying to convince Crosshair that this is all influenced by his chip. I think Crosshair knows he’s being used, but he (like the others in Clone Force 99) want some sense of normalcy. Like Echo said earlier, “we’re soldiers, what other path is there?”

Okay the alarm reminds me of the purge siren.

And the indoor alarm sounds like an airport alert.

About Echo taking charge, although I think he naturally is the next in command rank-wise. Do we even know the rank of Tech and Wrecker? What was Crosshair’s rank before?

Omega should’ve gone and tattled on them to Rex. Like “and then they just ditched me!! Again!! I know I have no combat training but still…”

Its pretty clear that Crosshair knows how the team is going to act. Like what tactics they’d use and decisions they’d make. Like on Bracca, Crosshair knew immediately the scanner frequencies were being jammed, because he had seen Tech use that trick before.

“We’re running out of time Commander” I have enjoyed that guy’s voice. It’s soothing.

The way Crosshair spits out “the Republic” makes me think there is something more than just the inhibitor chip at play. I wonder if he’s always harbored ill feelings towards the Republic. Cut had issues with the war that were so strong, he deserted. I wonder if Crosshair had similar feelings.

Wow he is really hurt about being left behind. And I can understand that. But Hunter did have a responsibility to Omega, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech too. He couldn’t risk them being shot and killed while trying to reason with someone who is shooting at him. Of course maybe if he had made more of an effort to get Crosshair to come with them…..of course I do think the Empire has done some brainwashing of Crosshair as well.

“I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you, what you never gave me. A chance.”

I think there is more to this than face value. It could very well mean he’s giving them a chance to join the Empire. But that whole conversion always used the term “choice”, not “chance”. “Chance” is used more as “an opportunity to do something”. That “do something” could be making a decision though. Like “I’m going to give you a chance to join the Empire.” But it could be “I’m going to give you a chance to get out of here.” Hunter didn’t give Crosshair a chance to prove he was loyal to them either. Plus the way the rest of Crosshair’s team reacted tells me they weren’t aware of their Commander’s intentions.

I love how Tech, Wrecker, and Echo are standing there like 😐

I thought it was interesting Crosshair decided to send Omega on a shuttle off world. Of course where would that have been? Just pick some random coordinates and say “good luck”? How would that be received by Rampart? Of course I don’t think he cared about Omega. That was just Nala Se and Lama Su really. And honestly, Crosshair was sounding like he’d actually thought about this. Like if Hunter wants to keep Omega safe, then he needs to realize that she won’t be safe with them. Especially if they’re being hunted. However there may have been an ulterior motive here too. With Omega out of the way, It will be like “old times” when it was just them. He probably feels like he was replaced by a kid.

The change in music though. The emotional, sweeping theme dropping down to a more sinister theme when Crosshair mentions their superiority over regular troopers.

“This is what we were made for.” What if, and hear me out…what if the enhanced clones were created specifically for the Empire. Their deployment during the Clone Wars could’ve been a testing phase. They may not have been prepared for the chance the inhibitor chips didn’t work. Crosshair had mentioned that Hunter couldn’t see the bigger picture. What if that is the bigger picture. That all of them were created to serve the Empire. Not the Republic. Which would explain Crosshair’s sudden disgust with it.

That reflection shot of Tech staring into the mirror. I like that shot. That’s really beautifully animated.

I have a feeling Crosshair knew his new squad wouldn’t listen to him. The “stand down” sounded like he was just saying it to say it. I don’t think he ever had respect for them, not after what happened with Saw’s fighters. They weren’t following him out of loyalty, but fear. And loyalty is a big deal to Crosshair. Honestly I think he had planned all along to kill his new squad. Like from the beginning. Which is why he was trying so hard to get his old squad members. The sooner he got them and convinced them to come to his side, the sooner he could shoot his new squad.

I have a feeling Crosshair know’s the reason why they were all created. Granted that could be brainwashing by the Empire to gain his compliance and loyalty. But something tells me that they were created specifically to become an elite squad for the Emperor.

Crosshair has some serious Anakin vibes when he’s telling Hunter to not become his enemy. And Hunter has some Obiwan vibes with the whole “we never were” line.

I do enjoy the weight they give Crosshair when Hunter flips him. Like the sound of him hitting the floor. He’s heavier than he looks.

Lmao that one TK trooper like “nope, imma get the fuck out of here.”

“Let the clones die together.” Yeah that bitch always intended to leave Crosshair on Kamino. Rampart never actually considered him important since he was the one that pitched the idea of an all conscripted trooper squad. He only had Crosshair as a part of it because Admiral Tarkin still liked the idea of clones. I think Rampart is going to try to climb over Tarkin on that Empire ladder. He didn’t mention to Tarkin that Crosshair was still on Kamino.

Aaahhh now the subject of the chip. Does he or doesn’t he? I think he does. The Empire wouldn’t remove it and take that risk of losing that compliance and blind loyalty. Plus the “does it really matter?” tells me he doesn’t know when, which he would if it was recent. He did have it in the first episode though. It showed up on the scanner and he did the whole “good soldiers follow orders.”

So I don’t think he was going to shoot Hunter. I think he feigned movement to make Hunter shoot him. He may not have thought Hunter’s blaster was sent to stun even. He may have intended to have Hunter kill him.

I do like how Hunter doesn’t hesitate to not bring Crosshair this time.

Damn the shots of the empty facility kills me.

Okay, so I know this was sad BUT the bombardment of Kamino was beautifully animated. Honestly. The underwater shots of the bolts hitting the support pillars. And it reminds me…Omega asked Tech about these the war was like and now she kinda knows. She’s never seen explosions like that.

Get ready for part 2

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @escapedthesarlacc @halzore @eyecandyeoz

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Charlie Chan. Who is fascinating, because he was created explictly to be an anti-Yellow Peril character. Unlike most Chinese characters of the time, he's both intelligent, physically capable, and unambiguously heroic. In the novels, he's simultaneously proud of being Chinese AND proud of being an American citizen. He gives orders and instructions to white people, and the narrative treats this as perfectly normal and acceptable. There's a bit in the first book, when an attempt to trap the..(1/2)

(cont'd)There's a bit in the first book where an attempt to trap the protagonist fails, because a message supposedly from Charlie clearly isn't because Charlie's English isn't broken, it's like poetry. Etc. The movies made him more stereotypical, & played by white actors in yellowface, but still, he's a heroic Chinese man, who is as capable and patriotic as any white man. Nowadays, he's thought of as racist caricature. Which he is, but still, it makes one think.

I'm not nearly as acquainted with Charlie Chan as you are (and I definitely suspected he was less racist in the original books because that's nearly always the norm when it comes to pulp characters) but yeah, that "Which he is" is forever going to be the most unfortunate and saddest part of it all when it comes to Charlie Chan. For all the virtues that can be bestowed on Charlie Chan, for everything great that the character had going for him and inspired, the fact that the least offensive image of the character I could find to put here for illustration's sake is from the Hanna-Barbera cartoon kinda exemplifies the big elephant in the room when it comes to Charlie.

Charlie Chan is a great example of two things: One is the way progress is never a fixed quantity and often what was progressive and forward-thinking in it's time can become something outdated and backwards and downright offensive given enough time, and the 2nd is my constant stressing that this is all the more incentive to reclaim the pulps and either highlight or fix aspects of them, instead of dismissing every aspect of them based on the preconception that everything about it's history is unforgivably bigoted and must be handled with the nuance of a sledgehammer.

I stress time and time again the need to highlight and understand the prejudices that went into pulps, because either ignoring them or wielding them as a weapon to attack them does no favors to anyone. The pulps weren't exceptionally bigoted - look at literally any medium in it's time period and you'll find bigotry and prejudice and hatred - and they were exceptional in the number of POC heroes and heroines. Pulps were a medium of experimentation and cheap entertainment that gave way to much, much more varied kinds of protagonists than were permitted in films, serials, novels, comics and radio serials of the day. Imagine if no one was allowed to bring up and discuss superheroes without mentioning the Superman Slap-a-Jap posters or the Captain Marvel story so horrifingly racist it was recounted by an American ambassador after it deeply offended a friend's son and a major influence on the 1950s anti-comic trials. "Pulp fiction had deeply, unforgivingly racist depictions that deserve intense scrutiny and cannot be ignored" and "Pulp fiction was significantly ahead of every other medium at the time in regards to authors and editors striving to publish stories about heroic POCs, this cannot be dismissed and is something that needs to be perpetuated" are not exclusive facts. "A product of it's time" is not an excuse and never was, but it's a fact nevertheless.

Every time someone speaks favorably of Charlie Chan in any capacity, they have to start with a long preface of everything positive that the character had going for him. Yes, he's a deliberate subversion of the Yellow Peril, he's a heroic protagonist, he's plump and good-natured and humorous but far from a joke, he's friendly and pleasant and well-educated and wise, he's a good dad and family man and a terrifically sharp detective who's so good at his job he gets called to solve crimes all over the world, and none of these traits are apparent to people who have to google the character and repeteadly see a white man in awful make-up into every single image of the character, who watch the movies and cringe at the broken English. It's hardly relevant in the face of all the Asian-American critics who acknowledge the character's virtues but rightfully point out that this fortune-cookie spouting caricature, acting subservient to whites and whose virtues are based around his proximity to a white American ideal, doesn't represent them and they shouldn't pretend it does.

Which isn't to say that to like Charlie Chan is "wrong", a lot of East Asians love Charlie and the character's obviously got fans in Asian Americans. It's a complicated subject and I obviously cannot begin to vouch in a subject so heavily based around perceptions I cannot experience. And I deeply detest the idea of speaking for others on their particular experiences on this kind of matter, which is something Americans do a lot everytime they talk about representation in media.

So instead, I'm going to tackle this on a roundabout manner by going on an unrelated tangent to bring up an example of representation that isn't quite representative of what it's supposed to be, has a lot of issues that have been dissected by critics among the people it was supposed to represent, and none of that stopped the character from being popular and beloved and from being claimed anyway. And it's a Brazilian fighting game character, which means it's completely within my ballpark.

Yeah, obviously Blanka doesn't look like anyone who lives in Brazil (whatever resemblance he bears to redheaded jungle protectors of Brazilian folklore is purely accidental). Obviously neither Jimmy nor Blanka are Brazilian names or even exist in the Portuguese lexicon. Obviously there are issues in Street Fighter's approach to representation across the board, sure, and I'd actually say Laura is much worse than Blanka in that regard (again, my opinion, obviously not universal), but the fact remains that Blanka is and has always been pretty controversial. Obviously there's Brazilians who took offense to Blanka and they weren't wrong to do so, and I obviously do not speak for everyone here, that goes without saying.

Obviously the idea that Brazil's major representative in a global cast of characters, the first big name Brazilian character in videogames, is going to be a freakish jungle monster who roars and bites faces has problems, as is the fact that all the others get to be regular people representing fighting styles from their countries while Blanka doesn't. None of the Brazilian SF characters represent Capoeira, which is kinda shitty to be honest. And there's a whole stereotype of Brazil as a backwards land of beasts and savages that Blanka's creation played into. There's no shortage of ground to criticize Blanka's representation and Ono actually apologized in an interview once, but then he learned one teensy little thing:

Street Fighter is very popular on Brazil. Would you like to leave a message to the fans from there?

"Ono: Yes, I'm aware. At the time of Street Fighter II a lot of the arcade machines produced went there, so I knew we had lots of fans there. A message to Brazilians, well, I'd like to apologize. I know Blanka's a weird character and I don't want any Brazilian to feel uncomfortable with that.

When Blanka was conceived, we knew there were forests in Brazil, and so we thought he could look like that. I was actually kinda nervous knowing I'd meet Brazilian journalists. Still, this is the first Street Fighter in ten years, so we'd like all fans to play, including Brazilians, which are many.

Thanks. Well, but you should know that Brazilians love Blanka

"Ono: Ah, good! I was scared of getting beat up if I ever went to São Paulo! (laughs)"

(That's from a 2012 tv special called The Greatest Brazilian of All Time where over a million viewers voted to elect whoever they wanted, and Blanka was going to win. He was polling ahead of Aryton Senna and PELÉ, fucking Pelé, yes this happened. He wasn't even disqualified for being a cartoon character, it was an open poll, he was disqualified due to canon stating he had been born in Thailand, which I think may have been retconned since then. Again, A MILLION BRAZILLIANS voted for this contest, and Blanka was going to win.)

Blanka is great and sweet and lovable, he made the best out of the incredible shitty hands fate dealt him and became a cool and strong green man who shoots lightning and flies, a self-taught warrior who rides whales and planes to fighting tournaments, and he loves his mom and friends and kicks ass and after he's done he dances in joy and gives the kids of his village piggyback rides, and Brazil loves him. He doesn't represent any existing person or fighting style, he's rooted in a negative stereotype and incorrect assumptions, he's not even really Brazilian, and he's our boy and nobody can take him away from us.

No criticism of Blanka, no matter how in-depth or even right it is, is ever going to affect that, because regardless of what was wrong or misguided and offensive about him, we claimed him and loved him so throughly that Capcom kept playing up Brazilian representation in every subsequent game post Alpha, and because of Blanka's impact and reception in such a big game, Brazilian characters have become a staple of fighting games, and that's how we got much more diverse representatives in those games. Fighting games have more Brazilian representation than LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE on media not produced here. It started as BAD representation, with way less thought put into it than Charlie Chan, and it still mattered to a lot of Brazilians who reclaimed it and made it better than it was ever intended to be, and as a response to it, it gradually became better.

Progress is not a fixed quantity, it's an uphill battle, and it's not unwinnable. Everything's gotta start somewhere.

The Good Asian is a ongoing comic that I think does the best job I've seen yet of handling an Asian American detective protagonist, which is not really a high bar in the first place, and more to the point, The Good Asian illustrates the 2nd part: the reclaiming. The Good Asian deals a lot with the realities that a 1930s Asian-American detective would run into, the strained circumstances and relationships between said character and the world around him, because it's born from an author who took a look at Charlie Chan and Mr Moto and the like and recognized the potential in those stories that could not be fulfilled in it's time period by the people writing said stories.

The Good Asian pays little reverence to Charlie Chan, but it acknowledges that it cannot exist without Charlie Chan, and it reclaims the Charlie Chan premise at the hands of someone more adequately equipped to tell a gripping story that goes places none of Charlie's contemporaries would ever go. Regardless of how good or bad of representation Charlie Chan was, Charlie Chan mattered and was beloved and inspired a better example for others to improve on or rebel against.

I desperately wish that I could google Charlie Chan without having to look at a guy in yellowface, and the ONLY way that's going to happen is if the character ever gets meaningfully brought back and reclaimed for good by people who can meaningfully tackle the character and present him as he should have always been presented.

And then, I imagine it would be a lot easier to show people on how swell Charlie really is. A true, positive role model and hero, who no longer has to look like a gross cartoon to be able to exist at all. Who can finally be what he was always meant to be, and always was deep down.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #charlie chan #detective fiction #the good asian #street fighter #blanka

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pinencurls · 4 years

Text

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

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It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert.

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him. . . . . .

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni.

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme.

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room.

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.”

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun.

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party.

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates.

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend.

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.”

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders.

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests.

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes.

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask.

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note.

“Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours.

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door.

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever.

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced.

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am.

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table.

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?”

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..”

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?”

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair.

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case.

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid.

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them.

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?”

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar.

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host.

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.”

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time?

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?”

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night.

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar.

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls.

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold.

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet.

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.”

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?”

“No Elle, of course I don’t-”

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet.

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.”

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?”

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee.

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . .

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.”

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.)

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.”

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself.

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?”

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table.

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.”

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-”

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.”

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?”

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room.

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?”

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode.

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus.

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides.

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head.

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended.

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both.

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick.

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following.

“Harry?”

“Ellie?”

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes.

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick.

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing.

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing.

“Oh- H, Sorry!”

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage.

“I’m so sorry Harry I-”

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!”

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little.

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different.

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me.

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back.

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . .

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.”

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily.

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy.

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry.

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into.

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter.

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night - incidentally beside Harry - I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock.

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him.

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies.

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again.

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?”

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.”

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile.

“What’s wrong?”

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts.

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.”

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up.

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one.

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.”

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?”

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket.

“I know exactly what you mean, H.”

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm.

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again.

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides.

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit.

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago.

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore.

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant.

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser.

“Then stay.”

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.”

. . . . .

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway.

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end.

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face.

“And you’re almost six foot!”

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.”

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough.

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.”

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again.

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks.

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry.

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again.

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm.

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine.

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side.

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before?

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa.

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen.

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.”

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention.

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.”

. . . . .

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all.

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already.

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all.

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden doors of Blondies.

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner.

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?”

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him.

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly.

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.”

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say.

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.”

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften.

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure.

“How do you mean?”

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-”

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.”

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry.

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all rather unsuccessfully.

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?”

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?”

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’”

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing.

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’”

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much.

. . . . .

Unknown Number

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago.

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone.

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up.

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.”

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all.

. . . . .

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!”

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?”

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?”

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends.

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years.

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?”

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.”

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us.

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.”

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech.

. . . . .

The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.”

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me.

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.”

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?”

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.”

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood.

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.”

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens.

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats.

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition.

. . . . .

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..”

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.”

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?”

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?”

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me.

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection.

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter.

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits.

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed.

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.”

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips.

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little,

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.”

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed.

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?”

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?”

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.”

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open.

“That’s the plan, love.”

. . . . .

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed.

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this.

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me.

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble:

“Breakfast?”

. . . . .

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed.

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes.

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner.

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares.

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!”

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him.

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.”

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands.

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion.

“What’ve got yeh bag for?”

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on.

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-”

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.”

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space.

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-”

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.”

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm.

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start.

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road.

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums.

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.”

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road.

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.”

. . . . .

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented.

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?”

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?” She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.”

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.”

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed.

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.”

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth.

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said.

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine.

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine.

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction.

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes.

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him.

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me.

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing.

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo.

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend.

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.”

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact.

Meet me at mine x

Harry

Okay - what was that about?

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?”

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.”

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec” before the line goes dead.

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly.

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me.

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.”

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?”

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.”

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me.

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.”

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange.

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a time I thought I could lose him.

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair.

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket.

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.”

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly.

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?”

“Eleanor would have a field day.”

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again.

“Oh yeah?” He teases.

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.”

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him.

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.”

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh…”

“Really..she’d be right about that?”

“I’m pretty sure-”

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep.

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.”

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder.

“I like you too H….just a little bit.”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear.

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession.

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs.

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.”

. . . . .

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!”

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand.

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun.

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north.

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him.

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer.

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest.

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning.

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group.

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him.

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy.

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear.

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction.

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!”

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going.

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips.

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done.

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?”

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven.

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces.

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.”

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object.

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven.

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand.

“Yes dear?”

“What was that?”

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-”

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?”

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.”

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin.

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?”

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little.

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter.

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second.

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?”

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”#dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes?#friends to lovers

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

“School Life:” A Hoodie Season AU Prequel

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Hwang Hyunjin (SKZ)

Genre: Married Life AU (Hoodie Season Prequel)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Mild Language

Summary: When Y/N is hired as the librarian at her former high school, she isn’t exactly thrilled to return. Of course, there’s also the issue of the persistent dance teacher who seems determined to win her affections.

Here’s a funny story: imagine promising yourself that you’d attend college, nail an awesome degree, and then find a job making six figures on an annual basis, only to return home with a teaching license to work at the same school that you attended when you were 16 while making less than acceptable.

Yeah, life had a funny way of making a joke out of itself, and the punch line is never really that good.

But there wasn’t time for me to complain about my prospects since I had been unemployed for six months with a lousy degree in literature that led to absolutely nothing. In desperate times, we’re often forced to do things that we hate, and I was certainly disenchanted with the idea of working in a high school library surrounded by horny and immature devils all the time.

“Good morning, Y/N!”

Oh, and I also had to deal with one of the most annoyingly persistent men on a regular basis. “What do you want, Hyunjin?”

Despite my dismissive tone, Hyunjin still leaned in across the check-out counter, and I could feel his eyes staring at my ass. “It’s my free period.”

“And?”

“And...you should come have coffee with me,” Hyunjin said, and I finally turned around to endure his flirtatious smile. It had only been two months since the start of the semester, and a grand total of two weeks since Hyunjin had first started trying his luck with me. But I was beginning to think that he didn’t know how to take a hint.

“I’m busy with paperwork,” I said, ignoring his crestfallen expression. However, in my defense, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I was far too preoccupied with my own self-loathing to entertain his advances.

“Again?” he pouted, giving me a look that I’m sure won the heart of any girl that he had the chance to impress.

It was too bad that they didn’t work on me.

“Bye, Hyunjin,” I said, giving him a cheeky smile before disappearing into my office.

The next morning, I noticed that Bang Chan, one of the upperclassman teachers, had arranged to pick up some books for his students. It required some set-up on my end with the computer system, and I was completing the necessary paperwork when Chan walked into the library. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Bang,” I greeted him in return. “I brought an empty cart for your request.”

“Perfect!” Chan smiled, walking around the counter to pull the cart towards the surrounding bookshelves.

I watched him from the corner of my eye while inputting the final codes for my spreadsheet. “Is this for a class project?”

Chan lifted his head from where he was examining a nearby book display. “Oh! Yeah, the kids like it when we do this kind of stuff. Well, I mean, they don’t like reading so much, but it’s better than tests.”

I nodded my head because I could certainly appreciate that considering some of the more stringent high school examinations that I recalled from my teenage years. “The school wants me to read you this long and boring list of protocols after you check-out something.”

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off with a chuckle. “Do you want to do it now...or?”

I grinned, closing out one of the tabs on my computer screen before joining Chan by the bookshelves. This close, I could appreciate the subtle scent of his cologne and his easygoing smile. “I think we can just skip it,” I said, raising a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

“You’ll let me off easy, Y/N?” Chan asked, turning around with a knowing look and I reveled in our simple flirtation.

“Since you’ve been so nice,” I said, breaking off when I heard the door to the library open again.

“There you are!” Hyunjin announced his presence, waltzing over to the two of us without a single care in the entire world. “How can I last all day without seeing this smile?”

I sighed when said smile disappeared. “What did you do before I came here?”

“It was a lonely workplace,” Hyunjin said, and I noticed the way that he had positioned himself between me and Chan.

“Anyway,” Chan continued, attempting to speak over Hyunjin despite his unexpected presence. “As a thank you, Y/N, would you like to come to the school’s basketball game this Friday? I coach the men’s team, and we’re undefeated this year.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s basically a tradition,” Hyunjin intervened, sending Chan a look. “The boys love the support from their teachers.”

“But Hyunjin, you don’t even-”

“You’ll come, right?” Hyunjin asked, interrupting Chan’s train of thought. In return, the older man merely shrugged before occupying himself with the task of stacking the books that he required onto the cart.

I studied Hyunjin’s beaming expression because, in all honesty, it was one of the very last things that I wanted to do, but it seemed unusually important - which meant that a small part of me was quite curious. “I guess I can try and clear some time,” I said with a shrug.

Hyunjin’s smile was impossibly large, and he leaned against Chan’s cart like he wanted to look as cool and laid-back as possible. “You know, Y/N,” he started. “I think you and I share a lot in common.”

“I doubt that,” I said with a tense smile.

“We both care a lot about our students,” Hyunjin said, and I tried not to laugh because Hyunjin couldn’t begin to imagine just how much I didn’t want this particular job on my resume. “We’re also good-looking people.”

The comment was shallow, and I didn’t feel that impressed by his attempt to compliment me. Meanwhile, Chan snorted around a laugh as he pushed his cart back, nearly sending Hyunjin sprawling into the floor. “I have things to do,” Chan said, excusing himself politely while a flustered Hyunjin tried to play off his decidedly uncool moment.

“If only your students were around to see this...” I trailed off with a distracted sigh, leaving Hyunjin behind spluttering out nonsensical words while I returned to the sanctity of my private office.

On Friday night, I parked my car near the back of the school before entering the loud and unusually crowded gymnasium where, for just a split second, I almost considered walking back out the door. It smelled like sweat and dirty laundry, and the bleachers looked uncomfortable, especially since everyone was forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “What fresh hell is this?” I grumbled, shouldering off my jacket since I definitely wouldn’t need it.

I proceeded to walk around the proximity of the gym, searching for familiar faces. I spotted Chan standing on the sidelines with another teacher (Changbin, maybe?) before I realized that someone was calling my name from behind me. I turned around to greet Han Jisung, one of the Freshman English teachers, and he pointed to a section where I recognized several other staff members. “You can join us if you want,” Jisung said and I nodded my agreement.

He led us through the crowd of eager fans, keeping an eye on me as I teetered precariously on the old bleachers wearing high heels that I definitely regretted. But at the very top, I could see some familiar faces, including one that appeared far more eager than the rest. “Oh, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “I’m glad to see you. It’s nice to have the teachers support our teams.”

“You never come to the basketball games,” Felix said, and Hyunjin shot him a silencing glare.

“What are you talking about, Felix?” Hyunjin asked with wide eyes. “I always support the school.”

“Sure,” Seungmin snorted as if he was simply placating Hyunjin’s obvious fabrication.

“Yeah, I heard it was something else,” I said, taking a seat next to Han before turning my attention to the game.

I wasn’t a big sports fan by any means, and I struggled to make sense of the chaos that included a bunch of teenage boys running up and down the court wearing their brightly-colored uniforms. Sometimes a whistle blew or the shot clock made a truly horrible sound when the buzzer went off to conclude the end of game-time. Otherwise, I felt utterly confused as I sat back and nodded when one of the other teachers surrounding me made a comment that I certainly didn’t understand.

When the game reached halftime, Hyunjin immediately stood up from his seat, starting down the staircase as he chanced a look back over his shoulder. “They have refreshments outside,” he said to me. “My treat?”

I placated him with a nod, following him into the slowly forming crowd attempting to migrate outside of the gymnasium where the smell of pizza and nachos was especially prominent. Hyunjin and I stood at the back of the line, and I swallowed down a feeling of claustrophobia. Meanwhile, I hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin was looking at me until he finally made his voice audible over the white noise of the surrounding crowd.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Hyunjin said, giving me, what I assumed, was his best attempt at a humble expression. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to offend you...”

“It’s not so much that,” I said. “But it’s tiresome to see you put so much effort into flirting with me.”

“Oh...” Hyunjin said, clearing his throat awkwardly, but he also seemed hurt by my admission. “I’m not, like, some kind of serial dater or something. I genuinely thought you were interesting when we met at the teacher’s conference for the first time.”

“You did?” I asked, studying this vulnerable version of Hyunjin with close scrutiny.

“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting the beanie hugging the crown of his hairline. “I’m kinda bad at this type of thing, but you’re different from the others. I think you and I both know that’s not always a bad thing, and I was hoping that you might at least give me one tiny little chance at a date.”

I gave him my full attention then, and I found myself taken aback by the look of earnest interest reflecting back at me in warm swirls of brown. “Okay,” I said, deciding that it couldn’t possible hurt to give him an opportunity. “But do me a favor and at least have a better excuse the next time you come into the library,”

Hyunjin had the decency to blush, and I couldn’t help but smile as we took another step forward.

It was Saturday evening when Hyunjin picked me up in front of my small apartment complex. I settled next to him in the front seat, smiling in his direction when he extended a tentative greeting. “How are you, Y/N?” he asked, and I was surprised to hear a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“I’m good,” I said. “But what’s this surprise all about, Hyunjin?”

“No spoilers,” Hyunjin said, and he seemed to regain some semblance of his former confidence as we drove down the crowded city streets in the direction of the main interstate.

“Well, I expect something classy since you made such a big deal about dressing up for the occasion,” I said, reaching down to smooth my hands along the hemline of my skirt.

“I don’t know much about you,” Hyunjin admitted. “But I had a friend give me some advice.”

“Dating advice?” I questioned, smirking in his direction. “You must not go on very many dates.”

“Not really,” Hyunjin remarked. “Despite what you might be thinking, it’s never been a big thing for me.”

I contemplated his words, watching as he drug his bottom lip between his teeth to worry the skin. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin said. “I guess I’m not very good at making connections with people. I’ve been told that I can come on too strong.”

I laughed at the honest assessment. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin agreed. “But is that okay with you? I mean, now that you know that I don’t have any idea about what I’m doing.”

“I think it’s more exciting,” I told him. “It also explains why you’re flirting was so over the top at the beginning of the semester.”

Hyunjin groaned as if embarrassed by the reminder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, reaching across the console to take his willing hand. “If you were quiet, then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Hyunjin let out a shaky exhale, studying me for a moment from the corner of his eye. “I want to make a better impression on you, Y/N.”

“Trust me,” I said with a smile. “The impression I already have of you is quite persuasive.”

Hyunjin nodded, and a comfortable silence proceeded before he fumbled with the buttons on the radio to allow some music to accompany the remainder of our drive together. It was something techno and upbeat - the kind of thing that just made sense to me because I knew that he was a dance teacher. But in any case, I only really started to pay attention when I noticed that we had somehow entered the more upscale part of the city.

Maybe Hyunjin was really doing his best to impress me.

“Here we are,” Hyunjin said, pulling into a parking spot lining the side of a very familiar building.

I realized immediately that it was the opera house which meant that the Hwang Hyunjin had brought me to a pretentious affair that certainly held no appeal to someone like myself. But I tried to keep my smile, nodding at him while he handed our tickets over to the attendant. Meanwhile, at the back of my head, all I could think about was the fact that Hyunjin might’ve been trying too hard with our first date. Especially as I observed the expensive theater.

“I heard it’s a classic,” Hyunjin whispered to me after we found our seats in the middle of the enormous crowd.

“Great,” I murmured back, trying not to feel so out of place.

Instead, I focused on the show in front of me, clapping along with everyone else because I had no idea when it was actually appropriate to do so. In fact, I was forced to laugh even though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, and I shifted uncomfortably when the older gentleman next to me started crying during one of the scenes. Apparently, the gathered crowd of patrons had rehearsed all of this before attending the show, and I was left pretending to understand the social cues that the others had already memorized.

It was actually rather draining, and I forced a smile at Hyunjin when he looked down at me. “You’re not having fun,” Hyunjin finally said during intermission.

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I wasn’t nearly as convincing of an actress as the people on stage.

Hyunjin sighed. “Honestly, Y/N, do you even like this?”

I swallowed hard, struggling under the scrutiny of his gaze. “It’s...alright?”

Hyunjin grinned, but it didn’t seem genuine. “Come on,” he said, rising from his seat. “I don’t think we’ll be missing out by leaving early.”

I reluctantly took Hyunjin’s outstretched hand, allowing him to pull me down the aisle before we trudged through the crowded lobby and into the refreshing night air. The parking lot was still full of cars, and Hyunjin had parked us somewhere near the back since we weren’t aware of the necessity of arriving to these shows several hours before start time. But I didn’t mind the walk because I was trying to think of something to say to a downtrodden Hyunjin who paused next to his car.

“Look,” I finally said with an endeared smile. “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

“I screwed everything up,” Hyunjin said, and I was sad to see that he was genuinely upset as he leaned against the side of his car.

“No, you didn’t, Hyunjin,” I tried to tell him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“I really like you,” Hyunjin said. “And this felt like my one opportunity to get something right, but I fucked up again.”

I took a deep breath, tilting my head to catch Hyunjin off-guard as I brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “I can tell you have a good heart, and that’s all I care about, okay?”

Hyunjin seemed completely taken aback, and I was worried that I had sent him into some kind of shock, but he allowed one hand to wrap around my waist as he brought us closer. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, and our second kiss was reciprocated by both sides - a tender exchange of out deepest feelings. “Does this mean that I might get a chance at another date?” he asked, looking at me with sincere brown eyes.

“I think you’re worth it,” I told him despite how cheesy it sounded inside my head.

“This makes us official, right?” Hyunjin asked, and I should’ve known better than to expect something normal with him. Doing things by the book with all the cliches involved didn’t really seem like Hyunjin’s kind of thing - and I liked him even more because of it.

“Yeah, if you want labels or whatever,” I grumbled, but his teasing laugh was the best kind of medicine. Needless to say, our first night together was perfect in every way.

#stayverse #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin fanfic #skz hyunjin #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids writer #stray kids marriage au #mostlycompetent

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catflowerqueen · 2 years

Text

Actually, as an addendum to my last Chicory post about Pizza really leaning into the janitor thing… I can think of a semi-plausible way for that to happen. I mean. It has them straddling the border between sheer obliviousness and denial, but…

Given how important the Brush and position of Wielder is, there have to be things like promotional materials, souvenirs, and, like, novelty brushes and things, right? Like, fake Brushes for kids to play with and pretend to wield (and Blackberry probably hates them, but there really isn’t anything she can do about it). So… Imagine a scenario where someone made giant fake Brushes for janitors to use in place of regular mops and brooms. Perhaps not even for “novelty” purposes, but because someone had the bright idea that literally everything in the Wielder Tower had to be art-themed or something. So Pizza is very used to wielding brushes as part of janitorial work.

I would also imagine that the colors and décor of the Tower—and possibly even Luncheon itself—change regularly just due to sheer proximity to the Wielder. That’s where they live, and likely where they would do a lot of their practice and experimenting. And since Pizza doesn’t have a transit card at the start of the game, they likely don’t get out too much and are used to fairly impermanent scenery.

Keeping that in mind… I could very easily see that, on the day of the color wipe, a somewhat more oblivious Pizza who genuinely thinks they made a cleaning mistake or something that wiped all the colors—perhaps spilling some sort of powdered cleaner, or laundry detergent, or actual flour or white powder that Chicory hadn’t felt like painting—comes across the Brush and mistakes it for one of their mops/brooms—because obviously Chicory would never let the actual Brush out of her sight, right? And with everything in black and white, it might genuinely be hard to tell that it isn’t one of their own tools. So they pick it up and commence with “cleaning”… and find that the color has returned. Sure, maybe it looks a little different than yesterday, but, remember, the Tower probably changes fairly often, so they assume that Chicory just did a little work on this recently.

So Pizza continues about their day, thinking that they are just doing the usual cleaning and not realizing that they are actually coloring things in on their own, and then heads outside.

And here is where the obliviousness/sheer stubborn denial comes in, when they see that everything else is also still in black and white and assume that either they or someone else just made a really big mess of powder/detergent/whatever. So then they just decide that, since they are a janitor—specifically the Wielder’s janitor, it is their job to clean up everything else, too, so that Chicory’s colors are visible again. And since, again, they don’t leave town much, they really don’t know/remember too much about the way that Chicory decorated the rest of Picnic (not to mention that Blackberry’s remnants probably would still have been around before the color wipe, even if things were in the process of fading naturally), they still don’t realize that they are actually putting their own colors and designs on display.

Well. Apart from places like the café or shops that ask you to design your own styles and things. They know they’re the ones doing that, but since a lot of those either have you do it in black and white anyways or specify that they use science to extract the colors and put them on food, they still don’t realize there’s anything special about it.

Anyone trying to call them the Wielder either gets brushed off (ha) or gets some sort of exuberant gushing over how “realistic” the “mop” must look since everyone keeps “mistaking it for the real Brush,” and, on the flip side of that, everyone else just thinks Pizza is being extremely humble or talking in metaphors when they call themselves a janitor, rather than a wielder. (And Blackberry and Radish are probably even more annoyed and confused by Pizza’s attitude than they were in canon. Like. Especially Blackberry).

Depending on how deeply into denial they end up being, the Brush can probably eventually start picking up some things and creating corruptions, but it is not going to be getting nearly the same extent because Pizza’s angst about art and “worthiness” would be far lower-key? At least initially. Like… more of it would probably come from dealings with the Art Institute and Radish, actually. Pizza would probably happily join classes at Clementine’s prompting, and then just see it as a way to get in some sibling bonding, and would only start becoming insecure when they hear that their paintings are getting put up in museums and different display areas, and then with the stuff Radish says and does. It would probably make them buckle down even more on the janitor issue, but in a less funny way and tone than before.

And I’m not entirely certain Pizza would ever realize they were holding the actual Brush the entire time. At least not until after everything was said and done and they were playing around with the new Brush they made—which they would know from the start was an actual Brush and not just a mop because they would have already learned about the Brush tree and the first Wielder and all that—and then realized that the colors and things being created were the same ones that were happening throughout the course of their “cleaning” earlier.

#chicory a colorful tale #just a janitor

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n-ctarinenga · 4 years

Text

Best Friend [ luke hemmings ]

surfer!luke au | pt.1 | word count: 5,222 | masterlist

If anyone had been your bestest friend in your life so far, it was definitely Luke Hemmings.

Since day one, when you ran into him looking at skateboards in your friend's store not far from Venice Beach, you've been somehow cosmically tethered to him.

What started out as an offer to help him pick a board and learn to skate, him telling you he's always been more of a surfer than a skater, soon turned into hanging out without your respective boards, going to shows together, being at the same parties, both of you being on your friend Michael's exclusive dinner party guest list, basically, you guys hit it off.

After hanging out with Luke more over time, you learned that he had moved to California after dropping out of university in Sydney, not happy with the path he could see his life was on and following his passions instead, which led him to the same place it led you when you left your hometown, California.

You had been one of the first true friends Luke had made after his big move, and even though you told him to lay off, he would often remind you that you were the one to help him settle into the life he has now, your friend group quickly adopting him not long before he ending up running the surf section of your friend's shop that you'd met him in all those years ago.

It started out like any normal day for you, getting up, getting ready, and heading to your job at the cafe you'd been working at for a few years now. It didn't take you long to make friends, evident by the way people greeted you like an old friend as they came in for their morning coffees or lunch break meals. You were a generally sociable person, and enjoyed the daily interaction with the regulars and new customers that would come through the doors.

It was just a little after the lunch time rush that Luke came strolling in the door, knowing well how busy you would be at the peak of rush hour.

"Afternoon handsome, what can I getcha?" You ask with a grin, leaning forward and putting your elbows on the counter to prop your head up on your fists as you looked to him.

Luke lets out a laugh as he copies your pose, him having to bend down a lot more because of his height, the small space of the counter meaning you were pretty much face to face with him.

"Coffee and a apple cinnamon muffin please, knucklehead." He responds, his accent all over the place as normal.

You give a nod and slap the counter as you push yourself up, walking to the espresso machine on the bench behind you.

"Michael came in today." Luke announces, still leaning on the counter.

"How is he?" You ask, scraping off the coffee grounds to make it level and putting it in to brew before turning back around to see him.

"Good, we've got dinner with him on Friday."

You raise your eyebrows with a nod, pleased at the news.

It wasn't unusual for you or Luke to make plans involving the other without them there, your friends joking you've been a package deal as long as you've known each other. Besides, how could you be upset considering Michael's food was involved?

"What's the theme this time?" You ask curiously.

Since Michael had become an apprentice chef at a local restaurant, he had been hosting dinner parties for his friends every couple weeks, his vegan cooking some of the best you'd ever had. To spice things up a bit, he started giving each night a theme, everyone showing up dressed in costumes to fit. It was one of your favorite nights of the week when it came around, and you were already excited at the thought of this Friday.

"Pina Colada, the song. Apparently dress code is hawiian shirts and lei's at the door." He says with a laugh.

You hold your tongue as you put the lid on his coffee, placing it on the counter in front of him.

"Go on, say it, I know you wanna." He sighs with a smile on his face.

"So are you looking forward to finally getting lei'd?" You ask with a sly smile on your face as you grab the apple cinnamon muffin from under the glass cover beside the till.

He groans dramatically, but his grin still covers his face. For the whole time you'd known Luke, while he had been on a couple dates here and there during your friendship, he hadn't been in an actual relationship since you met. Neither had you, the reason unknown to him, but it did mean you would casually poke fun at each other because of it.

"You're really on fire today y/n/n." You roll your eyes as you hand Luke his muffin and coffee, ringing up his order.

"You try getting sleep while Calum and a special guest is in the next room." You say with a raised eyebrow.

Getting what you mean, Luke laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a supportive squeeze.

"You're a stronger person than I am. But if you do want a break, my door is always open."

You smile at him, letting out a light sigh as you pat his hand, thankful for his offer.

"I appreciate it. Now go get back to work before Sierra kicks your ass." You smirk, referring to your other best friend, and his boss.

"See ya later, sweetheart." He says with a wink, picking up his food and walking towards the door.

"Will do, darlin'." You smile.

Feeling her presence behind you, you roll your eyes as you can practically already hear her comment.

"You guys are cute together." Ali, your workmate and committed work wife says as she returns from her own lunch break.

"Ma'am." You say in a warning tone, and she brushes you off with a light laugh.

"What? I'm right."

"Yeah, you are." You think to yourself.

With Ali back, you busy yourself grabbing a muffin, before you turn to walk out back and take your own lunch break.

After replying to texts and watching too many tiktoks while you ate, you went back out front until closing, where Ali offered to shut up shop so you could get home a little earlier since she lived closer than you did.

After thanking her so many times she broke and finally told you to fuck off, you offered to return the favour whenever she needed it and made your way back to the apartment you shared with Calum.

Calum was like a brother to you. Him being a year older and around you basically since you moved to California, as not only did you end up having the same friend circle, but his sister Mali was also your boss, being the owner of the cafe.

Sighing in relief as you pull your keys and lanyard out of your pocket, you unlock the door to your apartment and quickly regret it when you hear loud moans and banging coming from Calum's room yet again.

With a frown already set on your face, you refuse to put up with another night of disrupted sleep, putting your airpods in and turning them up before venturing down the hallway to your room.

Pulling one of your bigger bags from your closet, you set to work putting some things together in a makeshift overnight kit. Grabbing a couple outfits you could wear to work tomorrow depending on your mood and the weather, as well as all your other basic items, you write a post it note message for Cal, still being able to hear the sound of the action in his room over Awsten Knight loudly trying to drown it out.

"Safe sex or no sex, you two!!" You call out as you stick the note to his door.

You collect the last of what you'd need from the bathroom, before walking out and locking the front door again behind you.

The walk between your place and Luke's wasn't that bad, it's close proximity being one of the selling points to you when you and Calum were first looking for somewhere new after your last lease ended.

You already knew that Luke would be home at this time, him finishing an hour and a half before you and spending most of that time at the beach until it passed golden hour, which was just fading as you walked out of your apartment.

Climbing up the exterior steps that lead to his apartment unit, you could already see the light on through his window, his silhouette being framed for a moment as he walked past it letting you know he was home.

Readjusting the bag over your shoulder, you step onto the "welcome" doormat you brought him as a housewarming present, knocking twice, then once, then three times.

It only takes a second for you to hear his footsteps coming towards the door, and as he opens it, a smile appears on his face as he realises who it is.

"Hey stranger." He greets with a slight grin, but you could see he was slightly confused about why you'd shown up.

"Hey, do you ah, is that offer still on the table?"

Luke's face softens as he remembers what he told you earlier in the day, raising an eyebrow.

"He was at it again huh?" He asks, and when you nod, he shakes his head as he steps aside, letting you in.

"Of course the offer is open, but you are gonna have to help me cook dinner."

You smile as you look up at him while you pass through into his apartment.

"Sounds like a plan to me." You laugh happily, making yourself at home and dropping your bag at the end of the couch as you hear Luke shut the door behind you.

Turns out veggie stir-fry is on the menu for the night, one of your favorites. You both take a knife and chopping board each, chopping up ingredients and adding them to the fry pan before Luke takes it to the stove to get the garlic and onion started while you get going on the carrots and bok choy.

You and Luke move around each other easily, naturally. You'd been in his kitchen enough times to know where everything was, and even with music playing from the corner covering the sound of your movements, you both seemed to know where each was the whole time.

Taking a deep breath and inhaling the gorgeous scent of the cooking food, you lean up against the counter, crossing your arms casually and looking over to Luke.

He stood with spatula in hand, moving the food around while slightly swaying to the music. You felt a small smile come to your face, getting to admire him for a minute while he was distracted with the food in front of him.

There was a part of you that very much wanted to ignore and deny the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest around Luke, but an even bigger part of you that knew it was pointless to even try.

The feeling wasn't a stranger to you, in fact you'd been living with it nearly since the day you'd met him, even though it was a lot less back then, the seed was still planted.

But, you knew that the feeling would remain just that, a feeling. At this point in your life, you couldn't imagine what you'd do if you lost Luke. While yeah, he was your best friend, and you would regularly flirt with each other casually, there was still part of you scared that if you did let him in on the secret you hadn't told a soul, you would lose him completely. You knew the possibility of losing him was there no matter what, but you'd be damned if it was gonna be because of something you had done.

A change in song brings you back to reality, and your eyes snap to the ground, clearing your throat before speaking.

"So how have you been? We haven't caught up in a minute."

With summer fast approaching, this was peak season for Sierra's store, meaning you'd been missing out on both of your best friends lately to tourists and hobbyists coming out of hibernation.

Luke shrugs slightly, looking to you for a moment with a perplexed expression.

"It feels like we get busier every year, which I'm not complaining about at all, but it's just…. draining I guess." He sighs.

Frowning, you turn towards him more, waving slightly to let him know it's okay to keep going if he wants to.

"I end up missing things more than usual. Sleep mainly." He says with a hint of humor to his voice and a small smile on his face. "And the sea, and you, and the guys. All my favourites."

Never really being one to comfort with words, you place a supportive hand on his, as it rests on the counter beside the stove, propping him up as he stirred with the other hand. You let your thumb brush over the back of his hand, understanding exactly what he meant.

Luke smiles as he looks down, wordlessly moving his hand slightly so he can hold onto yours.

You ignore the way your heart skips a beat as you look up from your joined hands to his face, a kind smile on yours as you speak.

"We're not going anywhere hun. I know I won't be." You say softly, clearing your throat as you realise there's a small chance he could read into the last part of your sentence. "I'm pretty sure the sea isn't going anywhere either." You add on quickly.

Luke takes a deep breath, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he laughs, turning his attention back to the food as you slip your hand away from his.

"Yeah, good point."

You nod, holding your hands together in front of you and looking down at your socked feet against the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hey, uh, can you grab some plates? I think we're nearly ready to go here." Luke asks casually, diffusing the tension you could feel had built in the room.

You agree with a nod, moving around the kitchen and collecting together what you'd need. While Luke dishes up, grabbing you both drinks as well, you grab some cutlery and place mats for the table, setting them out and helping Luke carry everything the couple feet journey from the kitchen to the table before sitting down, taking a quick picture of your combined efforts before picking up your fork.

You both dive into the meal, singing your praises to his cooking skills as you complement the food in front of you. You smile as you see Luke turn a slight shade of pink as you do.

Distracted by your conversation, your empty plates sit on the table beside you as Luke pokes fun at you for what happened on some random day you'd mostly forgotten, one where you both had ended up nearly getting your friend group kicked out of a club a few months ago.

You're both laughing as you recall the details when Luke's phone starts vibrating closer to the edge of the table, him quickly catching it before it can fall.

"Shit, I'm meant to be calling my mum in ten minutes." He frowns, mad at himself for losing track of time.

"Okay. You get set up, I'll do the dishes, you should be good to go in ten if you start now." You say, jumping into action and stacking the dishes as he looks up to you to protest.

"You don't have to do the dishes, I'll just stack them and get to them later." He fights, but quickly loses the battle when you point to him, then his laptop, silently instructing him to get going.

He looks at you defiantly before deeply sighing and getting up, grabbing his laptop and setting it up on the other side of the open plan room on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You're too good to me." He sings while he does as he's told, you smiling to yourself as you run the water.

"Enjoy it while it lasts." You sing back.

The familiar chime of the Skype call ringtone emanates from the other side of the room, and you look over to see a bright grin covering Luke's face as the call connects.

Luke loved his family, and especially his mum. You knew he would still go through bouts of homesickness from missing them, which is why you knew any contact he did have with them was extremely important.

"Hey mum." Luke grins.

"Hi bub, how are you?" You hear his mum ask though the speakers.

You do your best to zone out of the conversation, wanting to give him privacy. Instead, you focus on the music still playing in the corner, though it's playing more softly than before.

Doing your best to stay quiet, your ears perk up as you hear your name from across the room.

Realizing it came through the speakers instead of from Luke, you fight your better judgment and try to eavesdrop, having no success when Luke starts to talk a lot quieter.

Why would Luke's mom ask about you? Sure you were best friends, but you didn't see yourself as that important.

Lost in your thoughts, you lose your grip on the plate in your hand, flinching as it drops back into the sink with a loud clattering noise.

"Are you okay?" Luke asks, bolting up with a concerned look on his face, ready to help in an instant.

Looking in the sink, you see the plate still fully intact and nod as you take a deep breath.

"Yeah it's all good, just lost my grip." You explain, giving him a thumbs up.

He examined you for a moment before sitting back down with his laptop, but instead of picking up where he left off, you hear his mom asking who that was, referring to you.

"Y/n is staying over, loud roommate issues." He explains with a slight laugh.

"Why are you hiding her?! I want to see the pretty girl I've heard so much about." You hear her reply, your cheeks growing pink as you do your best to smother a laugh at the light telling off he was getting.

Looking over to Luke, he raises his eyebrows at you, silently asking if you wanted to come over and say hi. Looking between him and the laptop, you silently mouth "you sure?" to him, receiving a small smile and a nod in return.

You dry your hands on a kitchen towel hanging on the oven door, nervously wringing your hands as you walk over to the couch, sitting down beside Luke and waving to the webcam.

"Hi Mrs. Hemmings, it's nice to finally kinda meet you." You smile as you laugh slightly.

"Nice to meet you too love! Luke's told me a lot about you, all good things I promise." She laughs lightly. Even through a screen, you could feel the warm nature of the woman who'd raised your best friend, though it did make sense his mom would be a sweetheart if he was.

"I'm glad to know I've made such an impact." You bump your elbow into Luke's arm, his head down as he laughs to himself, blonde hair falling over his face. "I promise Luke's done the same for you. I probably don't have to tell you how family proud he is."

His mom smiles, a sense of pride about her for a moment before she looks to the side of the screen where Luke would be.

"You wouldn't be able to tell with how he's trying to hide now." She teases, Luke shifting sideways so he's more in frame, your shoulders and knees now touching.

"I thought mums had to be nice to their kids in front of their friends?" He asks with squinted eyes.

"I don't remember that being a rule. Besides, you don't have the same accent I remember my son having so I'd say it's fair game."

"That's because I spend too much time with this one." Luke says, nodding his head towards you.

"Excuse me?" You say with a raised eyebrow. Luke just smiles at you, his teasing having the desired effect. You don't manage to hold onto your hard exterior for long, cracking and smiling back at him.

Liz laughs at the two of you, dispelling the moment as you both look back to her.

"Yeah we do spend a lot of time together." You say, Luke nodding in agreement as the three of you fall into easy conversation.

You end up staying for the whole video call, Liz asking you about your life, what you do, all the story details Luke had failed to tell her himself.

As you both say a lengthy goodbye, Luke promises to call Liz more between video calls, and you promise to keep an eye on him for her in the time in between those as well.

After closing his laptop, Luke leans back into the couch with a sigh.

"She likes you." He says quietly, looking over to you with soft eyes and a softer smile as you mimic his actions and lean back into the couch, turning your head to look at him.

"You think so?" You ask, just as quietly as he spoke.

He nods tiredly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, his hand squeezing your shoulder as your rest your head against his.

Ever since Luke had hit end on the call, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you, which you half blamed on the time, and half on stressing yourself out trying to make a good impression.

You can feel yourself falling asleep as you sit there, feeling comforted and comfortable as your breathing turns shallower, the scent of salt water and cologne clouding the front of your mind.

"We should probably go to bed." You suggest, right as Luke covers his mouth with his spare hand as a yawn escapes him.

"Good idea." He agrees.

He gives your shoulder another squeeze before you both get up, him moving to get you a blanket and pillow and you moving to get something to sleep in out of your bag.

Tiredly digging through, your hands pass your work uniform, toiletries, and a sweater, but not one of your old t-shirts you normally slept in.

Seeing the annoyed look on your face, Luke frowns slightly as he returns to the room.

"What's up?"

You groan as you sit back on your legs, gesturing to your bag.

"All I packed was my uniform for tomorrow and a sweater in case I got cold. I was in too much of a rush to get out of there I guess and didn't pack a shirt to sleep in." You frown, mentally scolding yourself.

"Hey, don't worry about it. You can just borrow one of my shirts." He says with a light shrug, like it's the obvious answer to the issue.

"Are you sure?" You ask, and he nods, placing the pillows and blanket down on the end of the couch.

"I'll go grab one and you can get dressed in the bathroom while I change in my room, then it's all yours." He says, and before he walks off, you call him back.

"What do you mean all mine?" You ask.

"You can have my room for the night and I'll take the couch."

You raise your eyebrow, standing up and crossing your arms.

"If you think I'm making you sleep on your couch in your own house then you obviously don't know me."

Luke sighs, well aware of your stubborn nature and already knowing he's fighting a losing battle.

"You must not know me if you think I'm gonna let you sleep on the couch." He responds.

You stare each other down for a minute, both of you not backing down on your point until you relax your face and stance, picking up your toiletries bag and shrugging.

"Guess we're sharing a bed then. I'm gonna go brush my teeth." You say casually, leaving Luke standing in the doorway of his bedroom open mouthed in shock.

As you stared yourself down in the mirror while you brushed your teeth, your internal monologue was punching you in the face repeatedly.

There’s a huge difference between passing out on the same couch together and actively choosing to sleep in the same bed together, and it was only one of those things you’d done with Luke in the past. Sure, there had been times where you had slept in Calum’s or Sierra’s beds, but with Luke, it had never been something to come up.

You remind yourself that it doesn’t mean anything. You and Luke are both grown adults, two stubborn grown adults, but adults all the same. You weren’t strangers to each other by any stretch, so you couldn’t figure out why the plan you’d put upon yourself made your heart beat a million times faster.

Little did you know, Luke was doing the exact same thing in the room over. As soon as you had stepped out of the room, his hands started to sweat. He was nervous, more so than he had been in a long while.

That was the thing that scared Luke the most about you, apart from the fact he’d seen you take down a man twice your size after getting cat called on Pasific Ave, was the special type of nervous that you made him without even trying. He knew the reason why it happened, not that he was willing to admit it to you, or anyone else but Ashton and his mom for that matter.

How was he meant to spend the night in the same bed as the girl he’s in love with, let alone fall asleep at all?

Mentally slapping himself in the face to make himself move, he pulls one of his favorite t-shirts from his closet, knowing that not only did you like it, but it was also one of the most comfortable things he owned.

To someone who hadn’t known Luke a while, they would be surprised to know how organized he is, clothing and home always organized just as well as the boards and gear he overlooked in Sierra’s store.

You rinse the toothpaste out of the sink, taking a deep breath as you hear Luke’s footsteps come closer. He knocks first, opening the door slowly just in case after you tell him to come in.

“Here, to sleep in. I know you like Guns n Roses.” He says with a cheeky wink as he hands you the shirt.

You scoff lightly as you take it, it being a running joke between you how much you disliked Guns n Roses, while he counted them as one of the all time greats.

“Thanks, you really know me.” You grin as you roll your eyes, lightly pushing him out of the bathroom and closing the door.

You hold the shirt up in front of you, looking in the mirror to see the difference in size between you and your best friend. While it fit normally on Luke, you could see it would graze your upper thighs, your height not all that different from his.

Taking your clothes off, you fold and stack them into a pile by the sink while you change your underwear and pull Luke’s shirt over your head, the smell of cologne and salt water hitting you again as you inspect yourself in the mirror.

Even though you had your reservations about the design on the shirt, you couldn’t deny it was one of the most comfortable things you’d ever worn.

Gathering your stuff, you open the bathroom door and walk back to your bag by the couch. Moving your uniform for the morning to the top, you put your old clothes in the bottom of your bag, calling out to Luke who must be in his bedroom.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” You call, zipping your bag again as you sit down on the couch to pull on your socks.

It was more out of habit than anything else, and consideration for the person you shared a bed with, knowing your feet always get freezing cold at night.

Luke walks out of his bedroom dressed in sweatpants and a black undershirt, pausing when he sees you. You see him take a deep breath in as you stand up, setting your bag back at the end of the couch again.

"Alright hun?" You ask, frowning slightly in confusion as he seems rooted to the spot.

He shakes himself out of it, nodding quickly before ducking into the bathroom. You stay in your spot, still confused as ever til his head pops out the door.

"You can head to bed if you like, I'll be there soon."

You nod as the door shuts again, ignoring whatever just happened as you walk to his bedroom, smiling at the sight of the glow in the dark stars you put up around the head of his bed still there from well over a year ago.

Walking over to what you could tell was the lesser used side of the bed, telling by just the lamp on the bedside table instead of the books piled on the other, you pull the bedding back, sliding between the cold sheets and letting your head fall back onto the pillow.

You let out a low groan as your body sinks into the bed, comfort washing over you as it felt like your bones sank back into the right place again after your long day.

As Luke walks back to the room, you're still lightly groaning, making him laugh as he shuts off the overhead light, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

"You okay there?" He questions, pulling back the bedding on his side and sliding in next to you.

"Your bed is so fucking comfortable."

Luke just laughs at you again, turning onto his side to look at you. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to level the playing field and turn on your side too, your breath catching in your throat as you do when you realise your faces are now only inches away from each other.

You both just lay there, smiling softly as you unapologetically take in his features so close, the curve of his nose, his lips, the shade of his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Stop being cute.” He laughs, pulling your hair over your face.

"I will when you do too." You fire back.

Luke just slightly shakes his head, letting out a deep breath before leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

"Goodnight, y/n." He sighs, and as your heartbeat rings in your ears, you slowly lean forward, returning the soft kiss to his forehead.

"Goodnight Luke."

taglist: @spicycal @softbabiestan

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings blurb #luke hemmings imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #surfer au #fanfic #imagine #blurb

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reallifesultanas · 4 years

Text

Portrait of Mihrimah Sultan/Mihrimah szultána portréja

Mihrimah was the most influential true-born sultana ever: she had the highest salary; she was a worthy child and descendant of her mother; she was a true charitable person who also had enormous political influence; her father’s partner and counselor for a lifetime; the only sibling ever to be an (unofficial) valide sultan to her brother; the "greatest princess" and matriarch of a dynasty ... She was a legendary persona, a unique princess.

Origin and early years

There is an amazing legend about the birth of Mihrimah Sultan. According to this, she was born on 21 March 1522, and for this reason the two mosques - built for her years later, designed by Mimar Sinan - were created so that on the princess's birthday, when the sun goes down behind the minaret of the Mihrimah Mosque in Edirnekapı, the moon just goes up between the two minarets of the other Mihrimah Mosque. An important part of the legend is that Mimar Sinan once had the opportunity to see the sultana and immediately fell in love for her. For this reason, his works of outstanding beauty and precision, the Mihrimah Mosques, are also seen as the embodiment of platonic love.

The legend is beautiful, but unfortunately not real. Mihrimah's brother, Mehmed, was born around October 1521, so Mihrimah could not be born in March 1522. Unfortunately, we do not have any evidence to know exactly when she was born. The discrepancies between the Islamic calendar and our calendar used today make it even more difficult to pinpoint. Most likely, in any case, she was born after August 1522, but definitely before 1523.

Although the date of her birth was unknown, the fact of her birth itself was distinctly extraordinary. According to tradition, if a concubine had given birth to a son, she could not return to the sultan's bed, so basically Hürrem, after giving birth to a son in the autumn of 1521, could no longer have been Sultan Suleiman's sexual partner. However, Hürrem not only returned to Suleiman’s bed, but became the sultan’s exclusive sexual partner and, after Mihrimah, she gave birth to four more children for the sultan. Hürrem had Mihrimah as her only daughter, while Suleiman already had a daughter, Raziye, who, however, died in an epidemic before Mihrimah was even born.

Mihrimah, as the only living little princess, was certainly not only the apple of her father's eye, but the light of the whole harem. She spent most of her time with her mother and governess, but they certainly also had regular contact with her family-centric grandmother, Hafsa. It was probably by this time that she began to learn the basics of embroidery from her mother. Hürrem was particularly talented in embroidery, her works being so outstanding that she sometimes sent them as gifts to the leaders of other dynasties. And Mihrimah was reportedly a great student to her mother, who mastered the technique well. In addition to her mother, her father also played an important role in her childhood. Suleiman often visited his family at the Old Palace, and from 1534 they moved together at the Topkapi Palace. From then on, Mihrimah could spend even more time near her father, whom she had regularly mesmerized with her mere existence.

Marriage and husband candidates

The marriage of imperial princesses has always been an important political tool. However, Suleiman did not make much use of this opportunity. His sisters were even married off by their father, Selim I, and after their widowhood he did not force them to marry again. He had a big amount of respect and love for the female members of his family, so he was expected to treat his daughter the same way. Suleiman, however, not only did not marry off his sisters again and again because of his kind nature, but fortunately he did not need allies what marriages could have given him. The empire was rising, the nation had never been so strong, and everyone loved him as a sultan, so simply he did not need allies by marriages.

Ttherefore, there was no particularly urgent need to marry off Mihrimah and it was not necessary to choose the future husband from among the senior and influental pashas. Thus, Suleiman could easily search for a statesman he liked, even from a lower position. Suleiman wanted a reliable, faithful husband for Mihrimah, while Hürrem would prefer a young and handsome husband. Hürrem recommended the Egyptian beylerbey to Suleiman, who was notoriously handsome and young. However, the sultan did not like the man, as he had a reputation as a womanizer, and it was rumoured that he had syphilis. Of course, many such rumors spread unfoundedly, but Suleiman did not investigate the Egyptian beylerbey, he simply rejected the idea. He had other plans. He singled out a particularly humble and trustworthy guy, who he had long known for, to Mihrimah’s side. His choosen one, Rüstem, was his personal servant for almost 10 years from 1526, after which he served as a governor for the sultan in various provinces of the empire. They were very close to each other, and Rüstem also taught the brothers of Mihrimah for a while, so the princes were well known by him. In addition, it is also likely that Mihrimah also had the opportunity to meet the pasha before, as he may have been in the same place as the sultana because of his proximity to the sultan. Eventually, of course, Hürrem was also accepted Suleiman’s husband candidate and the only question was whether Mihrimah would accept him.

Rüstem was roughly seventeen or twenty years older than Mihrimah, one of the ambassadors reported that he was not a particularly handsome guy, but was short and red-faced. So he was clearly not a teenage girl's dream, even if most sultanas had to marry much older pashas than Rüstem. Yet Mihrimah agreed to the marriage. The question arises, could she have said no at all? As a matter of fact, probably yes. She was Suleiman's favorite child, apple of his eyes, if she would had a personal and deep resentments towards Rüstem, she could have said no. But she didn't. Mihrimah was a very smart woman who stood by her mother's side since her childhood and who probably tryed to help her. She was obviously aware of the law of fratricide, that they had to do everything they could to remove Mustafa — his eldest half-brother — from their way, and with this, saving the lives of her blood-brothers. And Rüstem was a great opportunity to do so, as he had known and loved the sons of Hürrem since childhood, thus there was no question that he would side with Hürrem and Mihrimah in this bloody war. So for the sake of her brother's future, Mihrimah said yes to marriage.

Marriage and relationship with her husband

The wedding took place in 1539. Rüstem could have been around 35 at the time, while Mihrimah was 17 years old. The circumcision ceremony of Bayezid and Cihangir was held at the same time as the wedding of Mihrimah. The double ceremony eventually lasted for 15 days, during which the entire population of Istanbul shared the joy of the Sultan’s family during the festivals and feasts. Due to his position, Rüstem lived in Istanbul, so Mihrimah did not have to move far away from her parents either. That’s why Rüstem was a great choice, as neither Suleiman nor Hürrem wanted to lose their daughter. And Mihrimah, with her strong will, would certainly have manage to stay in the capital as well.

There is no question that it was not a love marriage, however, the relationship was by no means as bad as it was portrayed in the popular series. Mihrimah could at least marry a man he knew, who was a committed supporter of her brothers and was extremely loyal to her father, the Sultan. Their marriage was crowned in 1541 by the birth of their first child. Ayşe Hümaşah was the first child of Rüstem, the first grandson of Hürrem. By now, Suleiman was grandfather of at least one, as Prince Mustafa had a six-year-old daughter, but later Ayşe Hümaşah became his favorite grandchild. Mihrimah and Rüstem later — it is not known exactly when — had another child, a son, Osman. This suggests that they may have had a relatively balanced relationship, as the sultanas could have refused to have sexual intercourse with their husbands. Their fair relationship is also indicated by the fact that they had many charitable projects managed together.

The marriage of the two ended in 1561, with the death of Rüstem Pasha. However, their mutual respect is shown in the will of Rüstem. He left everything to his wife and daughter: the management of his charities was largely given to his daughter, but Mihrimah was given much similar tasks also. In addition, it was Mihrimah who completed the Rüstem Pasha Mosque, which was only half-finished at the time of Rüstem's death.

Her intrigues

According to legend, Mihrimah, with the support of her mother Hürrem, wanted to make Rüstem the next Grand Vizier, which plan was finally successfully completed. However, it would be wrong to think that only the actions of the two women led to the appointment of Rüstem. Rüstem had been the sultan's confidential man for twenty years so far, Suleiman found him worthy to be the husband of his only daughter, it was clear that the sultan himself wanted to give this position to Rüstem once. However, Mihrimah and Hürrem were not satisfied with this, but wanted Rüstem to enjoy the prerogatives that Ibrahim had previously enjoyed. The sultan, on the other hand, sharply refrained from letting anyone as close to him as he had done with Ibrahim.

One of the important cornerstones of Mihrimah and Rustem’s marriage was the multitude of common intrigues. Mihrimah was very active politically, with her husband she often was able to uccessfully convince the sultan. This was the case when, in 1542, Suleiman wanted to take the infant Hungarian king and his mother, Queen Isabella, to Istanbul as political prisoners. However, being a smart woman, Izabella knew she could get help from the sultan's daughter and wife. So she complained to Mihrimah and Hürrem about how young she was widowed, how she was left alone with her son and now even the sultan want to deprived her and her son of their throne. In addition, of course, she also sent very valuable gifts to Mihrimah and her husband. She must have mentioned her descent in her letter as well. Izabella was the daughter of the King of Poland, from whose country Hürrem Sultan came from. And this was an important link between Hürrem, Mihrimah and Izabella. Either way, Izabella persuaded Hürrem and Mihrimah, who together with Rüstem, easily persuaded the Sultan to support Izabella and her son instead of bringing them to Istanbul as prisoners. Thus it happened that János Zsigmond Szapolyai became the next king of Hungary.

However, the main task of the couple was to support the brothers of Mihrimah, especially Prince Mehmed. By 1543 it was quite clear that they wanted Mehmed to ascend the throne and the trio had done all they could for this aim. However, the early death of the prince made their situation more difficult. For a time they did not care which prince of theirs should be the next sultan, they worked only and exclusively to get rid of Prince Mustafa. It took another ten years before they were finally successful and Mustafa was executed by the Sultan. Exactly how much Mihrimah was involved in this process and what she did is unknown, as there is no evidence at all to prove the guilt of Hürrem or Mihrimah. But nonetheless, it would be naive to think that Mihrimah, who was the copy of her mother both in body and soul, would not have been involved in the struggle of her beloved mother and husband.

It seems that after Mustafa's death, the trio voted for Prince Bayezid, while the Sultan himself favored Selim. Perhaps that is why Bayezid was chosen: to balance the situation of the two princes. However, Bayezid’s nature resembled a timed bomb, so they were afraid that if he was not supported, he would raise the Sultan’s anger with a reckless act. Thus, the fact that Bayezid was supported does not clearly mean that they also wanted him to be the one sitting on the throne.

Loss of her mother

1558 brought a drastic change in Mihrimah's life. Hürrem Sultan died. Mihrimah and her mother were especially close to each other, of the known mother-daughter relationships, the two of them had the closest. Mihrimah visited Hürrem every day at Topkapi Palace, spending more time there than in her own palace. She also regularly accompanied her mother on her travels and visited her siblings together. Thus, the loss of Hürrem was certainly a great pain for Mihrimah. However, Hürrem, at the time of her death, handed over her responsibilities to her daughter, who thus had no time to mourn, she had to take immediate action to continue her mother's path. And this meant nothing more than the support of the Sultan and the protection of Prince Bayezid.

However, Mihrimah could not influence Bayezid like their mother, so she could not meke the prince to wait patiently and not annoy the sultan. Bayezid soon revolted against the sultan, and for this, according to several sources, Bayezid asked Mihrimah for money. And Mihrimah gave it to him. When the sultan realized this, he immediately questioned his daughter, who proudly replied that her mother asked her to do anything for Bayezid on her deathbed, so she was not guilty of anything. We don’t know how Suleiman reacted, but their relationship seems to have deteriorated for a while.

However, Mihrimah's support was not enough either, Bayezid failed in the decisive battle of the rebellion he fought, lost the battle and was forced to flee the battlefield. By this time, both Mihrimah and Rustem were helpless. And Rustem soon lost his life, so there was no one left to save Bayezid and his sons from execution. Bayezid was executed in 1562, and a few months later the sultan organized a huge wedding to marry off the daughters of the heir, Prince Selim, one of the daughters of the late Prince Mustafa, and the daughter of Bayezid who was at the appropriate age for marriage. Mihrimah faced her father again because of the wedding. Most sources say that it was only during the wedding preparations that Mihrimah learned that Bayezid had been executed, as by then the news had not reached Istanbul and Suleiman had ordered complete secrecy. Mihrimah, shattered and enraged by grief, found it deeply outrageous that a ceremony was being held in the empire shortly after his brother was executed. Therefore, she tried in every way possible to make the ceremony impossible, for example by forbidding anyone in the harem to have fun and show happiness. Since Mihrimah lived in the Old Palace since the death of Rustem and she probably led the harem also, her orders were accepted and there was no amusement in the harem. According to reports from the ambassadors, Suleiman was shattered and disappointed. However, upon hearing the news, Selim allegedly said, angrily, that he never loved his sister, nor her husband, nor their mother, for choosing Bayezid instead. However, the reliability of this news is in doubt, for the ambassador who wrote it deeply despised Selim.

Her relationship with her father seems to have settled over time, however, since in 1565, for example, Mihrimah persuaded her father to initiate a campaign against Malta, and she herself offered her own treasury, teasing to exhibit 400 galleys to the army. Thus, although there is no doubt that the execution of Bayezid left its mark on their relationship forever. It was probably at the end of his life that Suleiman could have his only daughter with him again.

The new era

Mihrimah lost her father in 1566 and a new world began for her with the reign of her younger brother, Selim. The relationship between the two was not the best, as Mihrimah was always on Bayezid’s side, but by this time only the two of them were alive from the family, so they chose togetherness instead of hatred. First, Mihrimah extended a helping hand to Selim when he was blackmailed and humiliated by the Janissaries before his accession to the throne. The Janissaries wanted to get their ascension fee immediately when Selim had not even ascended the throne. At that time, Selim did not have access to the imperial treasury, and it would have been too long to bring money from his own province, so Mihrimah paid the soldier's allowance for Selim to occupy the throne at all without riots. Selim did not remain ungrateful, for he made his sister the head of the Old Palace harem, and thus a de facto valide sultan.

During Selim's reign, she basically stayed in the background and spent her time on charity, construction projects instead of politics. Mihrimah has supported many construction projects, but the most famous are undoubtedly the two Mihrimah mosques, which are the most beautiful works of the imperial architect Mimar Sinan. She also supported Nurbanu's efforts to free two captured Turkish women from the French. Together, with Nurbanu’s daughters and her own daughter, they finally persuaded the Queen of France to send the women back home. Based on this, we can think that she had a good relationship with Nurbanu. There is no direct evidence of a relationship between the two women, probably it was a respectful one. However, Mihrimah’s daughter supported Nurbanu’s opponent, Safiye Haseki Sultan, which also raises the possibility that Mihrimah herself favored Safiye over Nurbanu.

The twilight of her life

Selim died in 1574 and his son Murad succeeded him to the throne. The relationship between Murad and Mihrimah is not known, but presumably a spike could have remained in Murad for Mihrimah supporting Bayezid. That is why there are those who suspect that Mihrimah lost all power during Murad's reign. In fact, this is unlikely, as Murad gave Mihrimah a salary as high as no other imperial princess has ever received in a similar situation. Mihrimah may have decided to retire by herself. With the death of Selim, she was left alone in the family, having so far lost four brothers, both parents, nephews, husband and her own son. Broken with so much pain, she probably no longer felt the urge to care with politics. Her daughter Ayşe Hümaşah, who was very active politically, continued her path.

Mihrimah died on 25 January 1578, in the Old Palace. Sultan Murad decided to bury Mihrimah next to her father, breaking the tradition that the sultans rested alone in their turbe. However, with her death, her bloodline did not disappear, as her daughter, her descendants, could be traced back to the 20th century, but presumably other family members still live today. They are the Mihrumazadelers.

Used sources: L. Peirce - Empress of the east; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; Y. Öztuna - Kanuni Sultan Süleyman; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları

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Mihrimah volt a valaha élt legbefolyásosabb birodalmi szultána: övé volt a legmagasabb fizetés; méltó gyermeke és utódja volt édesanyjának; igazi jótékony személy volt, hatalmas politikai befolyással; apja társa és tanácsadója egy életen át; az egyetlen valaha volt testvér, aki nem hivatalos valide szultána lehetett öccse mellett; a "legnagyobb hercegnő" és egy dinasztia matriarchája... Egy legendás személyiség volt, soha hozzá fogható nem élt.

Származása és korai évei

Mihrimah szultána születését egy igen érdekes legenda övezi. Eszerint 1522 március 21-én született, és ezen okból kifolyólag az évekkel később neki építtetett két mecsetet Mimar Sinan, birodalmi főépítész úgy tervezte meg, hogy a hercegnő születésnapján, amikor a nap az Edirnekapıban található Mihrimah-mecset minaretje mögött lemegy, a hold az üsküdari Mihrimah-mecset két tornya között éppen akkor keljen fel. A legenda fontos része az is, hogy Mimar Sinannak egyszer alkalma nyílt meglesni a szultánát és azonnal beleszeretett. Éppen ezért, a kiemelkedő szépségű és precizitású munkáit, a Mihrimah-mecseteket a plátói szerelem megtestesüléseként is tekintik.

A legenda gyönyörű, azonban sajnos nem valós. Mihrimah bátyja, Mehmed 1521 októbere körül született, így Mihrimah matematikailag nem születhetett 1522 márciusában. Sajnos nem áll rendelkezésünkre semmi olyan bizonyíték, amely alátámasztaná, hogy pontosan mikor született a szultána. Az iszlám naptár és a ma használt naptárunk közötti eltérések tovább nehezítik a pontos meghatározást. A legvalószínűbb mindenesetre, hogy 1522 augusztusa, szeptembere körül születhetett leghamarabb, de mindenképpen 1523 előtt.

Születési ideje bár nem ismert, születésének ténye maga kifejezetten rendkívüli volt. A tradíciók szerint ha egy ágyas fiút szült, nem térhetett vissza a szultán ágyába, így elméletileg Hürrem, miután 1521 őszén fiút szült, nem lehetett volna tovább Szulejmán szultán szexuális partnere. Hürrem azonban nem csak visszatért Szulejmán ágyába, de a szultán kizárólagos szexuális partnere lett és Mihrimah után további négy gyermeket szült a szultánnak. Hürremnek Mihrimah volt az egyetlen leánygyermeke, míg Szulejmánnak volt már egy kislánya, Raziye, aki azonban Mihrimah születése előtt életét vesztette egy járvány során.

Mihrimah, mint az egyetlen élő kishercegnő minden bizonnyal nem csak édesapja, de az egész hárem szeme fénye volt. Ideje nagyrészét édesanyjával és dajkájával töltötte, ám emellett minden bizonnyal a családcentrikus nagyanyjával is rendszeres kapcsolatban álltak. Valószínűleg már ekkor elkezdte eltanulni édesanyjától a hímzés alapjait. Hürrem ugyanis különösen tehtséges volt a hímzésben, munkái olyan kiemelkedő szépségűek voltak, hogy előfordult, hogy más dinasztia fejeinek küldte őket ajándékba. Mihrimah pedig a beszámolók szerint remek diákja volt anyjának, aki remekül elsajátította a technikát. Édesanyja mellett, apja is fontos szerepet töltött be már gyermekkorában. Szulejmán gyakran látogatta családját a Régi Palotában, majd 1534-től összeköltöztek a Topkapi Palotában. Innentől kezdve Mihrimah még több időt tölthetett édesapja közelében, akit már puszta létezésével is rendszeresen levett a lábáról.

Kiházasítása és a férjjelöltek

A birodalmi hercegnők házassága mindig fontos politikai eszköz volt. Szulejmán azonban nem különösebben élt ezzel a lehetőséggel. Lánytestvéreit is még apjuk, I. Szelim házasította ki, megözvegyülésük után ő pedig nem forszírozta újra házasodásukat. Meglehetősen nagy tisztelettel és szeretettel viseltetett családja nőtagjai iránt, így várható volt, hogy egyetlen kislányával szemben is a rá jellemző alapossággal fog eljárni. Szulejmán azonban nem csak kedves természete miatt nem használta ki nőrokonait, hanem szerencséjére nem volt szüksége szövetségesekre, melyeket a házasságok jeenthettek volna neki, hiszen a birodalom szárnyalt, sose volt még ilyen erős a nemzet és őt magát is mindenki szerette.

Ilyen háttérrel tehát nem volt kifejezetten sürgős Mihrimah kiházasítása és nem volt szükséges magas beosztású pasák közül választani a férjjelöltet. Így Szulejmán nyugodtan kereshetett neki tetsző államférfit, akár alacsonyabb pozícióból is. Szulejmán megbízható, hűséges férjet akart Mihrimah számára, ezzel szemben Hürrem inkább fiatal és jóképű férjet. Hürrem az egyiptomi beglerbéget ajánlotta Szulejmánnak, aki köztudottan jóképű és ifjú volt. A szultánnak azonban nem volt kedvére a férfi, hiszen csapodár természet hírében állt, ráadásul azt terjesztették róla, hogy szifilisze van. Természetesen sok ilyen pletyka terjengett alaptalanul is, Szulejmán azonban nem vizsgáltatta ki az egyiptomi beglerbéget, egyszerűen csak elvetette az ötletet. Neki ugyanis más tervei voltak. Egy általa régóta ismert, különösen szerény és megbízható pasát szemelt ki Mihrimah oldalára. Kiszemeltje, Rüsztem pasa 1526-tól majdnem 10 évig a személyes szolgálója volt, utána pedig feltörekvő pasaként szolgálta a szultánt a birodalom különböző tartományaiban. Igen közel álltak egymáshoz, valamint Rüsztem Mihrimah testvéreit is oktatta egy ideig, így a hercegek is jól ismerték. Emellett az is valószínű, hogy Mihrimahnak is volt alkalma találkozni a pasával, hiszen az kifejezetten sok helyen ott lehetett a szultánhoz való közelsége miatt, ahol lehetősége volt látni a szultánát. Végül természetesen Hürrem is kénytelen volt elfogadni Szulejmán férjjelöltjét és már csak az volt a kérdés, hogy Mihrimah elfogadja e.

Rüsztem nagyjából tizenhét-húsz évvel volt idősebb Mihrimahnál, az egyik követ beszámolója szerint nem kifejezetten jóképű, alacsony és vörös képű férfi volt. Egyértelműen nem egy kamaszlány vágyálma volt tehát, még akkor sem ha a legtöbb szultána jóval idősebb férjet kapott maga mellé. Mihrimah mégis beleegyezett a házasságba. Felmerül a kérdés, hogy mondhatott volna egyáltalán nemet? Ami azt illeti valószínűleg igen. Ő volt Szulejmán kedvenc gyermeke, szemefénye, ha különös és mély ellenérzései lettek volna Rüsztem irányába, mondhatott volna nemet. Ám ő nem tette. Mihrimah igen okos nő volt, aki gyermekkorától kezdve édesanyja oldalán állt és valószínűleg próbálta őt segíteni. Nyilvánvalóan tisztában volt a testvérgyilkosság törvényével, azzal, hogy mindent meg kell tenniük, hogy Musztafát - legidősebb féltestvérét - eltávolítsák az útból, ezzel megmentve édestestvérei életét. Rüsztem pedig nagyszerű lehetőség volt erre, hiszen gyermekkoruktól kezdve ismerte és szerette Hürrem fiait, nem volt kérdéses, hogy Hürrem és Mihrimah oldalára fog állni ebben a vérremenő harcban. Így tehát testvérei jövője érdekében Mihrimah igent mondott a házasságra.

Házassága és viszonya férjével

Az esküvőre végül 1539-ben került sor. Rüsztem 35 körül lehetett ekkor, míg Mihrimah 17 éves volt. Hogy minél nagyobb ünnepséget kerekítsenek belőle, az esküvővel egy időben megtartották Bayezid és Cihangir herceg körülmetélési szertartását is. A dupla-ünnepség végül 15 napig tartott, melynek során Isztambul teljes lakossága osztozott a szultáni család örömében a fesztiválok és lakomák során. Rüsztem pozíciójának köszönhetően Isztambulban élt, így Mihrimahnak sem kellett szüleitől távol költözni. Rüsztem ezért is volt nagyszerű választás, hiszen sem Szulejmán, sem Hürrem nem akarta lányát elveszíteni. Mihrimah pedig erős akaratával minden bizonnyal szintén azon ügyködött volna, hogy a fővárosban maradhasson.

Nem kérdés, hogy nem szerelmi házasság köttetett, azonban a viszony korántsem volt olyan rossz, ahogy például a népszerű sorozatban ábrázolták. Mihrimah legalább olyan emberhez mehetett feleségül, akit ismert, aki elkötelezett támogatója volt testvéreinek és végletekig hűséges volt apjához, a szultánhoz. Házasságukat első gyermekük születése koronázta meg 1541-ben. Ayşe Hümaşah volt Rüsztem első gyermeke, Hürrem első unokája. Szulejmán eddigre már legalább egyszeres nagyapa volt, Musztafa hercegnek ugyanis volt már egy hat éves kislánya, azonban mégis később Ayşe Hümaşah lett kedvenc unokája. Mihrimah és Rüsztem kapcsolatából később - nem pontosan ismert mikor - született egy fiú is, Osman. Ez azt sugallja, hogy viszonylag kiegyensúlyozott kapcsolatuk lehetett, hiszen a szultánák megtagadhatták a szexuális együttlétet férjükkel. Erre utal az a tény is, hogy nagyon sok jótékony projektet közösen irányítottak.

Kettejük házassága 1561-ben, Rüsztem Pasa halálával ért véget. Kölcsönös tiszteletüket mutatja azonban Rüsztem végrendelete. Mindenét feleségére és lányára hagyta: jótékonysági szervezeteinek irányítását nagyrészt lányára, ám Mihrimahnak is jócskán jutott hasonló feladat. Emellett Mihrimah volt az, aki befejezte Rüsztem Pasa mecsetjét, amely Rüsztem halálakor még csak félkész állapotban volt.

Az intrikus szultána

A legendák szerint Mihrimah, édesanyja Hürrem támogatásával szerette volna elérni, hogy Rüsztem legyen a következő nagyvezír, mely tervüket végül sikerrel véghezvitték. Azonban téves lenne azt gondolni, hogy csak a két nő ténykedése vezetett Rüsztem kinevezéséhez. Rüsztem eddigre húsz éve volt a szultán bizalmas embere, Szulejmán méltónak találta őt egyetlen lánya kezére, egyértelmű volt, hogy a szultán maga is ezt a pozíciót egyszer Rüsztemnek akarta adni. Mihrimah és Hürrem azonban ezzel nem elégedtek meg, hanem olyan előjogokat akartak Rüsztemnek, amelyek korábban Ibrahim Pasát is megillették. A szultán viszont élesen elzárkózott attól, hogy bárkit újra olyan közel engedjen magához, mint ahogyan Ibrahimmal tette.

Mihrimah és Rüsztem házasságának egyik fontos alapköve volt a közös intrikák sokasága. Mihrimah politikailag igen aktív volt, sokszor férjével közösen sikerrel győzték meg a szultánt egy egy ügy kapcsán. Ilyen volt, amikor 1542-ben Szulejmán szerette volna Isztambulba vitetni politikai fogolyként a csecsemő magyar királyt és édesanyját, Izabella királynét. Izabella azonban okos nő lévén tudta, hogy segítséget kaphat a szultán lányától és nejétől. Elpanaszolta hát helyzetét Mihrimahnak és Hürremnek is: hogy milyen ifjan megözvegyült, egyedül maradt fiával és most még trónjától, jogától is megfosztanák. Emellett pedig természetesen igen értékes ajándékokat is küldött Mihrimah szultána és férje számára. Minden bizonnyal Izabella levelében kijátszotta származását is. Izabella ugyanis a lengyel király lánya volt, azé a lengyel királyé, akinek országából Hürrem szultána származott. Ez pedig fontos kapocs volt Hürrem, Mihrimah és Izabella között. Akárhogyan is, Izabella meggyőzte Hürremet és Mihrimaht is, akik Rüsztemmel karöltve könnyedén rávették a szultánt, hogy támogassa Izabellát és annak fiát, ahelyett, hogy fogolyként Isztambulba hozatná őket. Így lett hát, hogy Szapolyai János Zsigmond lett a Magyar Királyság következő királya.

A házaspár fő feladata azonban Mihrimah testvéreinek támogatása volt, különösen Mehmed hercegé. 1543-ig teljesen egyértelmű volt, hogy Mehmed herceget szerették volna trónra emelni és a trió ehhez mindent elkövetett. A herceg korai halála azonban megnehezítette helyzetüket. Egy ideig nem foglalkoztak azzal, hogy melyik herceg legyen az új kiszemeltjük, csak és kizárólag Musztafa herceg ellehetetlenítésén dolgoztak. Még tíz évbe telt, mire végül sikerrel jártak és Musztafát kivégeztette a szultán. Az, hogy Mihrimah pontosan mennyire és hogyan vett részt ebben a folyamatban, nem ismert, hiszen nincsenek egyáltalán olyan bizonyítékok, amelyek Hürrem vagy Mihrimah bűnösségét bizonyítanák. Ám ettől függetlenül naivitás lenne azt gondolnunk, hogy Mihrimah, aki anyja kiköpött mása volt testben és lélekben is, nem vett volna részt szeretett anyja és férje harcában.

Olybá tűnik, hogy Musztafa halála után a trió Bayezid herceg mellett tette le a voksát, míg a szultán maga Szelimet favorizálta. Talán épp ezért választották Bayezidet, hogy kiegyenlített lehessen a két herceg helyzete. Mindemellett Bayezid természete egy időzített bombához hasonlított, így félő volt, ha nem támogatják, a szultán haragját fogja kivívni egy meggondolatlan cselekedettel. Így az, hogy Bayezidet támogatták, nem jelenti egyértelműen azt, hogy a trónon is őt szerették volna látni.

Édesanyja elvesztése

1558 drasztikus változást hozott Mihrimah életében. Hürrem szultána meghalt. Mihrimah és édesanyja különösen közel álltak egymáshoz, az ismert anya-lánya kapcsolatok közül, kettejüké volt a legszorosabb. Mihrimah minden nap meglátogatta Hürremet a Topkapi Palotában, ezzel pedig több időt töltött ott, mint saját palotájában. Emellett rendszeresen elkísérte anyját annak utazásaira és együtt látogatták meg testvéreit. Így minden bizonnyal Hürrem elvesztése hatalmas fájdalmat jelentett Mihrimah számára. Azonban Hürrem, halálakor feladatait lányára ruházta át, akinek így nem volt ideje gyászolni, azonnal akcióba kellett lépnie, hogy folytathassa édesanyja útját. Ez pedig nem jelentett mást, mint a szultán támogatását és Bayezid herceg védelmét.

Mihrimah azonban nem tudta úgy befolyásolni Bayezidet, mint édesanyjuk, így nem tudta azt sem elérni, hogy a herceg türelemmel várjon és ne bosszantsa a szultánt. Bayezid hamarosan fellázadt a szultán ellen, mely lázadáshoz több forrás szerint is Mihrimahtól kért pénzt. Mihrimah pedig adott neki. A szultán mikor rájött erre, azonnal kérdőre vonta lányát, aki annyit felelt, hogy édesanyja végakaratát teljesítette, ezért ő nem bűnös semmiben. Nem tudjuk, hogy Szulejmán hogyan reagált, de úgy tűnik viszonyuk egy időre megromlott.

Azonban Mihrimah támogatása sem volt elég, Bayezid herceg az általa szított lázadás döntő ütközetében elbukott, elvesztette a csatát és kénytelen volt elmenkülni a harctérről. Ekkor már Mihrimah és Rüsztem is tehetetlenek voltak. Rüsztem pasa pedig hamarosan életét vesztette, így nem maradt senki, aki meg menthette volna Bayezidet és fiait a kivégzéstől. 1562-ben Bayezidet kivégezték, majd néhány hónapra rá a szultán hatalmas lakodalmat szervezett, hogy kiházasítsa az örökös, Szelim herceg lányait, az elhunyt Musztafa herceg egyik lányát és Bayezid megfelelő korban lévő lányát is. Mihrimah újra szembekerült apjával az esküvő miatt. A források legtöbbje úgy írja, hogy Mihrimah csak az esküvő előkészületei során tudta meg, hogy Bayezidet kivégezték, addigra ugyanis a hírek nem érték el Isztambult, Szulejmán pedig teljes titoktartást rendelt el. Mihrimah a gyásztól összetörve és feldühödve mélységesen felháborítónak tartotta, hogy nemsokkal a testvére kivégzése után ünnepséget rendeznek a birodalomban. Ezért minden lehetséges módon igyekezett ellehetetleníteni a szertartást, így például megtiltotta, hogy a háremben bárki is mulatozzon és boldogságot mutasson. Mivel Mihrimah Rüsztem halála óta a Régi Palotában élt és valószínűleg vezette is azt, parancsai célt értek és a háremben elmaradt a mulatság. A követek beszámolói alapján Szulejmán összetört, és mérhetetlenül csalódott volt. Szelim azonban a hír hallatán állítólag feldühödve kijelentette, hogy sosem szerette nővérét, sem annak férjét sőt anyjukat sem, amiért azok Bayezidet választották helyette. Ezen hír megbízhatósága azonban kétséges, ugyanis a követ aki ezt lejegyezte mélységesen megvetette Szelim herceget.

Viszonya apjával úgy tűnik idővel mégis rendeződött, hiszen 1565-ben például Mihrimah győzködte apját, hogy kezdeményezzen hadjáratot Málta ellen, ő maga pedig saját kincstárát is felajánlotta, megígrve, hogy kiállít 400 gályát a hadsereg számára. Így tehát - bár kétségtelen hogy Bayezid kivégzése örökre nyomot hagyott kapcsolatukon - valószínűleg élete végén Szulejmán újra maga mellett tudhatta egyetlen lányát.

Az új korszak

Mihrimah 1566-ban elveszítette édesapját és egy új világ kezdődött számára öccse, Szelim uralkodásával. A két testvér viszonya nem volt felhőtlen, hiszen Mihrimah mindig Bayezid pártján állt, azonban ekkorra már csak ők ketten voltak életben a családból, ezért az összetartást választották a gyűlölködés helyett. Először Mihrimah nyújtott segítő kezet Szelimnek, amikor azt a janicsárok megzsarolták és megalázták trónralépése előtt. A janicsárok ugyanis azonnal meg akarták kapni a trónralépési jussukat, amikor Szelim még nem is lépett trónra. Ekkor Szelimnek nem volt hozzáférése a birodalmi kincstárhoz, saját tartományából pedig túl hosszú idő lett volna pénzt hozatni, így Mihrimah fizette ki a katonák jussát, hogy Szelim egyáltalán elfoglalhassa a trónt zavargások nélkül. Szelim nem maradt hálátlan, ugyanis nővérét tette meg a Régi Palota fejévé, ezzel pedig de facto valide szultánává.

Szelim uralkodása alatt alapvetően a háttérben maradt és jótékonykodással, építkezési projektekkel töltötte idejét a politika helyett. Mihrimah rengeteg építkezési projektet támogatott, ám leghíresebb kétségkívül a két Mihrimah-mecset, melyek Mimar Sinan birodalmi építész legszebb munkái. Emellett támogatta Nurbanu azon törekvését, hogy a franciáktól visszaszerezzenek két fogjul ejtett török nőt. Közösen, Nurbanu lányaival és saját lányával karöltve végül meggyőzték a francia királynét, hogy küldje haza a nőket. Ez alapján úgy gondolhatjuk, hogy Nurbanuval jó viszonyban voltak. Nincs közvetlen bizonyíték a két nő viszonyára, valószínűleg tiszteletteljes viszony állt fenn köztük. Mihrimah lánya azonban Nurbanu ellenfelét, Safiye Haseki szultánát támogatta, ami felveti azt az eshetőséget is, hogy Mihrimah maga is Safiyét favorizálta Nurbanuval szemben.

Élete alkonya

Szelim 1574-ben elhunyt és fia Murad követte a trónon. Murad és Mihrimah viszonya nem ismert ám feltehetőleg Muradban is maradthatott tüske, amiért Mihrimah Bayezidet támogatta. Épp emiatt vannak akik úgy sejtik, hogy Mihrimah minden hatalmát elvesztette Murad uralkodása alatt. Valójában ez nem valószínű, hiszen Murad olyan magas fizetést adott Mihrimahnak, amilyet soha egyetlen birodalmi hercegnő sem kapott hasonló helyzetben. Mihrimah talán maga döntött úgy, hogy visszavonul. Szelim halálával egyedül maradt a családból, eddigre elveszítette négy testvérét, mindkét szülőjét, unokaöccseit, férjét és saját fiát is. Ennyi fájdalomtól megtörve valószínűleg nem érzett már késztetést, hogy politikával foglalkozzon. Útját lánya Ayşe Hümaşah folytatta, aki politikailag igen aktív volt.

Mihrimah 1578. január 25-én hunyt el a Régi Palotában. Murad szultán úgy döntött, hogy a hagyományokat (miszerint a szultánok egyedül nyugodtak türbéjükben) megtörve, Mihrimah szultánát édesapja mellé temetteti el. Halálával azonban vérvonala nem tűnt el, hiszen lánya által, leszármazottjai a 20. századig nyomonkövethetőek voltak, ám feltehetőleg napjainkban is élnek további cslaádtagok. Ők a Mihrumazadeler-ek.

Felhasznált források: L. Peirce - Empress of the east; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; Y. Öztuna - Kanuni Sultan Süleyman; N. Sakaoğlu - Bu Mülkün Kadın Sultanları

#Mihrimah Sultan #mimar sinan #sultan suleyman #KanuniSultanSüleyman #Suleiman the Magnificent #Suleiman I #Haseki Hürrem Sultan #hürrem sultan #safiye sultan #rustem pasha #rüstem paşa #ayse humasah #ayşe hümaşah #Selim II #Nurbanu Sultan #ayşe hafsa

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izukyu · 4 years

Text

Smudge Of Heart.

requested by @brattyquirks.

dedicated to @katsukisass because i hate u but i already made a promise.

big, fat thank u to @imaginesanddrabblesforyou for beta reading this!! i love u w all of my heart!!!

Naz (Urdu) - assurance/pride in knowing that the other’s love is unconditional and unshakable.

“Kiri, everything okay in there?”

There was no answer from your soon-to-be redheaded friend. For a few seconds you could hear the rustling of towels and clothes, yet from that point on no other sounds could be heard.

His desk was still a mess from the hair dye mix, his acceptance letter rested dangerously close to the bowl.

The sun was offering its last rays of light, bathing the room in a warm shade of pink. Your family was already aware that you wouldn't be home until tomorrow. They knew the Kirishima household was like a second home to you.

Instead of dwelling on technicalities, fluffing your designated pillow on Kirishima's bed seemed like a better alternative to spend the time.

Slowly, the door opened, the sounds of the wood creaking getting your attention. Kirishima, with his hair relatively dry, stepped out, his gaze locked on the floor.

Much like your initial intuition, the shade of red complimented his eyes gorgeously.

His initial insecurity was something you were vaguely familiar with, and maybe avoiding staring at his hair with doe eyes would make him feel less vulnerable.

But was there any way to take your eyes off the captivating new shade of red decorating his appearance?

It was almost unfair how cute he managed to pull everything off. Almost as if it were infectious, you could feel a familiar warmth settling on your face.

Was it crimson red, too?

"Wow," you finally broke the silence, making Kirishima snap his eyes to meet yours, "if I may say so myself, it looks manly.”

Your remark seemed to be enough to bring a smile back on his face. “If anything you’re the manly one here. Thank you for coming over to help me.”

“Anything for my favorite shark,” you giggled, gently gesturing for him to lay down beside you. "Thanks for having me."

Once again, silence fell upon the room. Perhaps it was the moon already making her presence known, or the warmth Kirishima radiated, but you could feel yourself growing drowsy with each passing second.

Almost instinctively, you found yourself shifting towards his frame, basking in the sense of security his sole presence provided you with. Once you drew closer, a need to sneak one last glance at his form prompted you turn to him.

Only to find his deep, crimson eyes staring into your own.

“Hey.”

Kirishima quickly looked away, pursing his lips as he did so. In a frenzy to find an explanation as to why he was gaping at you, he mumbled the first thing that came to his mind, “sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

Kirishima wasn't a particularly bold guy, and whether his new change of look played a part in it didn't matter much. It was clear this was something else.

It wasn’t in full bloom yet, but you could tell his spirit was changing.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to live with any more regrets anymore,” his voice was barely a whisper, the words deeply rooted inside his soul now venturing into audacious territory. “I got into the hero course, but I’ve still got a lot to work on.”

Despite having a subtle smile on his face, it wasn't too difficult to spot the melancholy hiding behind his vermillion eyes.

You sighed, drawing closer to lay your head on his chest, “I know it’ll be a long road, but I promise we'll figure it out together.”

The thought of being together didn't sound like a bad idea to him.

Your action would have previously flustered him to no end, leaving him with shaky arms to hold you with. However, this time he held you with a bit more confidence.

Although not to a great extent, the courage pumping in his blood helped him feel at ease with your sudden proximity.

No regrets, right?

“I love you,” his voice did not waver, nor did his eyes look away from yours, “I’ve loved you for years now, and I don’t think I would have ever made it this far without you.”

He noticed your eyebrows elevate in astonishment. Years of pining had taught him to dismiss possible meaningless gestures like that, yet there was no plausible way he could ignore that.

Not with the corners of your lips twitching into a smile, your hand finding his own under the covers and squeezing it softly.

After the words spilled out of his mouth, he could feel... relief. A sense of liberation. It was enough to give him determination, albeit leaving him rather flustered.

That is, until you pinched his arm.

Eijirou yelped, blinking in surprise, “wh-what was that for?”

“I just had to check if that wasn’t just something I imagined!”

“Of course it isn’t, you silly cutie,” a grin stretched across his face, his pointy teeth greeting your flustered state. “I love you with all my might, I always have!”

You snorted, burying your face in his shirt, “Sorry, I just thought I’d never hear that from you.”

“Then I’ll say it over and over again,” Eijirou moved, pulling you on top of his frame with a hug, “I love you, and your awesome personality.”

“Kiri-”

“These blushing cheeks? I love ‘em too!”

“Okay, okay - I get it now!”

“No inch of you gets to escape from my manly love, not even this cute nose,” the tease was enjoying himself, rubbing his nose against yours eagerly.

Squinting your eyes, you swallowed back your sudden nervousness to the best of your ability, “I can play that game too."

One of your hands sneaked up to run through his hair, gently caressing his red locks, “no matter the color, I love your hair. It’s very manly and soft.”

You could see Eijirou stutter for a moment—something you wouldn’t mind taking advantage of.

“Your hands are quite beautiful, too. It’s pretty clear your training takes a toll on them, but they’re still kind and warm.”

It would appear the tables had turned; now it was Kirishima who was at a loss of words. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest with every comment that slipped past your lips.

“That’s not fair!” he protested, swiftly flipping your bodies again. Although your giggles made him want to hide away from your eyes, Kirishima couldn’t look away from the sight of you sprawled underneath him.

There was nothing that could erase the happiness from your face. Not even as he pressed his lips against your cheeks, his arms resting on either side of your body. Or nuzzled his face against your neck shyly, letting his breath send chills down your spine.

With your legs tangled, and soft giggles filling his room, the worry of parting ways in the next few days completely disappeared

Not even the smudge of red dye staining his desk could pull you away from your current state of bliss.

Event Masterlist.

Regular Masterlist.

#this whole thing was such a fixer-upper #EMMY I LOVE YOU THANKS FOR EVERYTHING AAAAAAAA #*lounge of charm #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha #eijirou kirishima #red riot #eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #red riot x reader

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stefciastark · 3 years

Text

Stuck Under A Building ~ Webpril Day 4

A/N: Peter begins to dig his way out with the help of Tony, who hopes like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn't miscalculated anything. Otherwise, both Peter and Ned's lives may be at stake.

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

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The dust had already settled by the time Peter returned to consciousness. Not yet ready to open his eyes, he instead took mental inventory of each of his limbs, and he had to swallow back his panic when he couldn’t move his right leg without white hot pain licking its way up to his knee. In that moment, he made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t be greeted with some sort of compound fracture or something else disgusting. Peter considered himself anything but squeamish, but he’d seen more than his fair share of gruesome injuries that he could very much do without at that very moment.

He found the offending object quickly; a large boulder the size of a washing machine – yet at least twice as heavy – sandwiched from halfway up his shin to his ankle. Mentally counting to three, he braced himself for the pain as he gave his leg another tug. He groaned through clenched teeth, clenching his eyes shut at the feeling of bone grinding on bone. Yep, definitely broken.

There was also a secondary problem he had just identified – the surrounding rocks had shifted in response to the movement of the one pinning him down. Peter watched with bated breath as a few stones the shape and size of watermelons tumbled down from the top of the pile and narrowly missed Ned, who still lay unconscious and prone on the ground beside him. His backpack lay just behind Ned, situated near what remained of the steel support pillar. If Peter remembered correctly, that meant that they were stuck in the middle-left portion of the cave. If he could get to the suit, he could get to help.

This would be the most high-stakes game of Pick-Up Sticks he’d ever played.

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Tony had received a notification about Peter’s suit, and as much as he’d later hate to admit it, he had passed it off as unimportant as it initially came through his systems. Tony was in the process of finalising the last of the data transfers to his new lab in the Avengers headquarters that had been relocated to upstate New York. Terabytes didn’t even begin to cover the quantity of files he had left to integrate into the new systems, but he had to start somewhere.

The hard drive had now begun to transfer the new blueprints for the latest Spiderman suit upgrades Tony had started prototyping. Peter was a keen kid; he was passionate and excitable, but frankly the sheer amount of voice messages he left was bordering on a violation of privacy. As Tony scrolled through the massive folder on Peter’s latest web-formulas he’d devised, the regular ‘Peter’ blip that appeared on his radar had suddenly faded into nothing, prompting advisory from F.R.I.D.A.Y.

According to his A.I, Peter’s whereabouts had last been defined as being circa upstate New Jersey, close to - if not within - the Sterling Hill Mining Museum. F.R.I.D.A.Y further informed Tony that that particular area sat right near the Ramapo fault line, where seismic activity had recently been detected.

Without hesitation, Tony set each foot in front of him deliberately, finally shrouding himself in his latest nanotech development: The Mark…whatever the hell. It was fast approaching the seventies and Tony had long since lost count.

The built-in stabilisers in the suit prevented Tony from feeling the G-Force he would otherwise be subject to as he catapulted towards northern New Jersey. He’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to inform him if any changes occurred regarding Peter’s whereabouts, however his radar remained silent apart from where the calculations told him Peter’s last known location was.

Completely removed now from the dense concrete jungle, Tony reached his final destination just outside of the Mining Museum. It may have been a long shot, but there was no way in hell Tony was leaving a single stone unturned.

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Peter had nearly managed to sling his pinkie finger around the inside of his mask that was sitting inconveniently just past the middle of his backpack. If Ned’s life hadn’t been at a perpetual state of risk from a catastrophic cave in, Peter would have simply yanked his leg free long ago and dealt with whatever consequence, but when it was a life other than his own, he found himself unable to act irresponsibly, instead finding himself performing ‘babysitter’ duties whilst pinned underneath a rock half the size of his apartment fridge.

Simultaneously extending his left arm once more as he gently shifted his leg just a fraction from beneath the boulder, he silently cheered as he managed to get a concrete hold on his mask. If anything, if he were lucky, he would be able to contact Mr Stark and work on getting them both out of here.

Pulling the mask over his face, he heard Karen’s calming voice as whatever systems were available initialised. He assumed he had a concussion at that point, as barely anything she said was properly registering for him, and simply went in one ear and out of the other.

“Communications are now online,” Karen hummed, and Peter sighed with relief. What he didn’t expect, however, was the almost instantaneous interception of Mr Stark’s voice through the comms.

“I leave you alone for five minutes...what the hell happened, kid?”

Peter grinned from within the mask. He knew he was safe. Tony Stark had come to get him, and everything would be alright. Ned would be left unscathed and before he knew it, it’d all be a distant memory. “We were on a field trip, and all the rocks were really cool, and then suddenly the ground started shaking, the cave collapsed, and now I’m stuck in here with Ned who’s unconscious, by the way, and - “

“Take a breather, kid. Just sit back for a minute, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s pulling up a map of the mine. We’ll get you out of there, try not to move too much, okay?” Tony’s eyes shifted over the heads-up display, taking in the various patterns of disarray with Peter and Ned laying in the epicentre. He narrowed his eyes as progressively more shapes on the close-proximity radar turned a bright shade of red. These boulders couldn’t be moved unless Peter wanted to put the lives of himself and Ned in immediate danger. It was time to change games and play Tetris, but this time lives were at stake.

“I need you to listen to me, Peter. There’s a rock to your right. Do you see it? I need you to wedge that just under where that boulder on your leg is sitting.”

Peter wasn’t about to question how Tony had gotten there in such a short amount of time, or how he knew about the offending boulder atop his ankle. Following Tony’s instructions, he shifted the stone next to him, and was able to use it like an ‘a la natural’ forklift to shift the stone from above him. He pulled his leg out as fast as he could in the fear that the rocks above him would crash down upon him - but this time more catastrophically. Ned still hadn’t come to, and Peter was becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “Okay Mr Stark, I’m out. But Ned, he’s still not waking up, I don’t know what - “

“One thing at a time. Now, I want you to -”

Peter didn’t register what was being said to him, instead taken over by the sheer sense of dread as he fully realised the proximity of the rocks sitting around him, trapping him on all sides. As if that weren’t a big enough concern, one millimetre of uncalculated movement could cause a cataclysmic cave in that - if Peter lived - he didn’t want on his conscience.

F.R.I.D.A.Y displayed the increased pace of Peter’s heart rate, and the decreased oxygen saturation in his blood. Shit. “Peter, I need you to listen to me. You can panic when this is over, believe me, but right now you need to get out. There’s a small rock to your left that’s shaped like the Kmart version of Cap’s shield. Nudge that out of the way for me.”

Crushing his fear down as far as he could, Peter rapidly identified the frisbee-shaped stone diagonally to his right. “B-but Mr Stark, that’s right underneath a massive pile of rocks…”

“Think of this like…” Tony rummaged in his brain for a moment, warring with the part of him that craved a blunt and harsh approach to the situation. He knew that would only cause Peter to stress more than he already was, so he opted for the approach that was as calm and collected as he could muster despite the situation. “What’s that game you showed me last week, kid? The one with the wooden blocks?”

“Jenga?”

“That’s the one. Sometimes stuff’s gotta fall down before you can stack it up again. Don’t worry, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s got your back.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, hoping like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t made some critical mistake in her calculations. He was purely relying on her to get Peter out of there. From where he was standing in the sole connecting tunnel that would lead to freedom, all he could see was rocks, rocks, and more goddamn rocks. As much as he would love to tear them from where they were positioned to get to the kid - his kid - he knew that any rash mistake on his part would end with more than one life haunting him until the day he died.

And so a game of Jenga they played, Peter pulling stones from one location and sliding them to become the new support structures for other smaller micro-towers. The space around him began to expand, and with it, Peter felt as if there were more breathable oxygen seeping in through the cracks between the stones, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a gust of wind blustering in from where he guessed the tunnel’s entrance was. He had no idea how long they’d been reshuffling the contents of the cave, but Peter could almost stand completely upright and walk about twenty feet to his right and left.

“Alright, now this one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a small pocket in front of that big boulder over there. Just give it a good kick.” From what Tony could see on his monitors, the moment that large rock moved, he would be free to blast the remaining stones and drag the kids out of there, no matter how many pieces they were in.

Peter knew this would be painful. It meant one of two things: he’d have to do the kicking with the leg his busted ankle was attached to, or he’d have to put all his weight on that limb while he did the deed with his good leg. Either way, he was prepared for it to suck. Choosing the latter and supporting himself partially on one of the larger boulders to his right, he brought his left knee to a right angle before pushing out with as much force as he could muster.

Tony first heard and then saw the shifting of the obstructions before him, the remaining fragments tumbling from the top until they sat in almost neat little piles below their larger counterparts.

Finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, pain, and the intensity of the last (at least) hour, Peter lowered himself onto the ground beneath him, only vaguely hearing metal scraping on stone, and the vibrations in the ground as Tony completed the last of the puzzle.

As he felt himself losing grip on awareness, he only just felt himself being gently lifted. At long last, feeling safe in the arms of the man he considered to be his father, he let himself drift off into the realms of unconsciousness.

A/N: Finally he's out! Peter and Tony will definitely be having a conversation about it on Day 6, so make sure you stick around for the conclusion to this little short story. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far xx

#webpril day 4 #webpril 2021 #irondad fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #whump writing #emotional h/c #h/c fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge #my fanfic writing #ao3 #ffnet

4 notes · View notes

fics-and-shits · 4 years

Text

Marvel Fic Recs

***smut

Tom Holland x Reader

Oneshots

The Interview (Actress!Reader) by @bigballofstress

You’re Tom Holland’s costar and girlfriend since the end of Civil War. Usually, you go on interviews together, but this time, you are requested alone on Ellen.

Cinderella (Actress!Reader) by @thewackywriter

Who knew that going to another boring award show and walking around barefoot would lead her right to her Prince Charming?

Drop the Mic by @young-and-bitchy

You’re in a rap battle with Tom Holland.

Vlogs by @spideyyeet

Being in the vlog squad was dope af but having David Dobrik run into Tom Holland and getting him to surprise you was a whole other thing. Now let’s see what’s it like to have Tom meet the vlogsquad and be with the girl that’s making him rethink some decisions.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Oneshots

Send to All Pranks (Actress!Reader) by @thrandybaby

You’re a British actress appearing on the Michael McIntyre Chat Show, but hilarity ensues at your expense when you accept the challenge to play the infamous ‘Send to All’ prank.

Morning After by @mindrunningfree

After a drunken night out, you wake up in a stranger’s bed, and on a scale of one to ten, your level of confusion is a fifteen.

Platonic!Avengers Cast x Reader

Oneshots

Beliefs (Teen!Reader) by @supersoldierfreak

A group press conference with the Avengers cast where you reveal your political views.

Sleeping Beauty by @chrixa

You didn’t know that the Avengers cast can also be called sneaky paparazzi. Also you love sleeping. Who doesn’t, right?

Handmade With Love by @capsicletho

Christmas is the time to give your loved one some gifts. What happens when you give your famous second family something handmade?

Clint Barton x Reader

Series

Agent 41 (Agent!Reader) by @nacho-bucky

An easily-distracted SHIELD agent with a sweet tooth and too many pairs of sneakers. Nothing ever quite works out the way she wants. But hey - it does work out! Usually

Peter Parker x Reader

Oneshots

Clingy Peter Parker by @spider-bih

A clingy Peter Parker and the reader loves it

Anything For You by @pparkerwrites

Introducing Peter Parker, dog whisperer by day, Spiderman and dog whisperer by night.

Series

Far From You Trilogy and Blurbs by @hey-marlie

Y/N Stark is really not here for this European school vacay because in this post-endgame world, she’s mourning the loss of her dad. But one (1) sticky boi Peter Parker is just trying to be the friend he once was while also trying not to flirt too much because if she rejects him (which she wouldn’t, not that he knows that) while they’re in Venice, holy hell he’ll just pitch himself off the gondola right then and there.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Oneshots

Sparks (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @sunriserose1023

You and Bucky started off on the wrong foot and it’s just been downhill ever since, and the last time you gave him a chance, you ended up with five broken ribs. It’s just not meant to be.

Cheap Thrills by @avengerofyourheart

A bet within the Avengers becomes a battle of the sexes, with you at the center of it. Who will be victorious and could it somehow help you snag the man of your dreams?

Air B&E (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @avengerofyourheart

When a mission requires close proximity with your least favorite teammate, you try to make the best of it, but a change in plans adds new challenges and possibly a new opportunity.

Notebook (College AU) by @softlybarnes

Bucky and Y/N sit next to each other all semester. They never talk to each other, until one day they do.

The Florist // The Beekeeper // The Pumpkin Carver (Enhanced!Reader) by @softlybarnes

Bucky and Y/N make flower crowns together. Both reveal more than they plan to.

Freckles (Drunk!Reader) by @softlybarnes

The Reader likes Bucky’s freckles a whole lot.

The Regular by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes is a regular at your bar. He comes in, he makes sure trouble stays away, and then he leaves. This really wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t so good looking and you weren’t totally in love with him.

Fourth Time’s the Charm by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky remembers the three times he meets a certain thief, and is blindsided by the fourth.

Trepidation by @brooklyn-boy

You’re rescued from HYDRA by the Avengers, only to be met with a ghost of the past in the form of Bucky Barnes. They tell you he was brainwashed, that it wasn’t him, but you aren’t so sure.

Blink Twice by @brooklyn-boy

Zemo kidnaps Bucky and injects him with some sort of drug that paralyzes him and takes away his ability to speak. He’s meant to die alone, in a ditch like he was supposed to back in 1944. But then someone finds him…

Uptown Boy (30s AU) by @brooklyn-boy

You’ve spent so long pretending to be a selfish, conceited, spoiled little rich girl that somewhere along the way, the line was blurred. Now faced with an ultimatum, you have to decide if your pride is worth the only person who’s ever truly loved you.

The Scoop (POC Journalist!Reader) by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes laments the fact that every single person he cares about is a dumbass when it comes to their own personal safety. He also hates every single journalist, newscaster or reporter he’s ever met until you.

Who Are You Trying to Fool by @notimetoblog

A perfect chance of messing with new recruits presents itself to Bucky. Can he pull it off or will you foil his plan?

We’re Gonna Need a Bigger House by @sunmoonandbucky

You find the courage to tell Bucky about your latest ultrasound.

But Here I Am (Agent!Reader) by @sunmoonandbucky

After years of being separated from the Avengers, Bucky finds you during a job.

Take it Easy, Romeo by @sunmoonandbucky

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

***A+ (Dark!Professor Bucky x CollegeAged!Reader)by @chixkencxrry

You thought that all your credits had been complete, but a glitch in the system forces you to take a summary course in order for you to graduate. Insert Professor Barnes, your history professor who’s a total ass.

A Year of Firsts (College AU) by @whitewolfbumble

Part One // Part Two

It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

13 Cats and a Sorceress by @kentuckybarnes

Beings from another dimension start to invade New York City, and cats invade Avengers Tower.

Sounds Like a Personal Problem (Law Firm AU) by @kentuckybarnes

Part One // Part Two

“Remember that favor you owe me?” “Uh-oh”

Pulling Rank (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

A mission has gone badly, and you have a reckoning.

Start With My Name (Medic!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

Part One // Part Two

Things get out of hand at a strike mission against Hydra, and you’re responsible for cleaning up the mess.

It Doesn’t Mean Anything (Until it Does) (Agent!Reader) by @cordytriestowrite

The things that you and Bucky do don’t mean anything so just drop it okay?

Vulnerability (Modern AU) by @mareli-carter

“We’re both in small claims court and I got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there.”

Important by @mareli-carter

“I did that annoying thing where I put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box, and you’re getting really mad, but I can’t wait to see your face when you open the smallest box.”

Two Punks In Love (40s AU) by @jaamesbbarnes

Years go by but the way you and Bucky care for each other doesn’t change. You’re still the punk who starts fights with anyone breathing in the wrong direction, he’s still a charming little fucker.

Bulletproof (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes

You and Bucky are the most competitive little shits there ever was.

Fair Play (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes

After a rough mission, you and the team go to Coney Island for some fun. Still injured, you can’t go on the rollercoaster with the others so Bucky decides to keep you company and to make your day as memorable as possible.

Saving the Day by @jaamesbbarnes

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

I’m Not Going Anywhere by @jaamesbbarnes

Working for Stark isn’t always a walk in the park, it’s exhausting. But a certain super soldier and his constant flirting make it bearable.

Emergency Room (Doctor!Bucky) by @jaamesbbarnes

Who would have thought that going to the ER could made a bad night turn pretty nicely?

Series

Holiday Heist (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avengerofyourheart

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

Flour Girl (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @avengerofyourheart

Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he?

Playing With Fire (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023

Some things just do not mix. Oil and water. Fire and gasoline. You and Bucky Barnes. When it was good, it was great, but when it was bad, it destroyed everything in its path. You’d tried–both of you had–but some things just aren’t meant to be. A year after your break up, Bucky gives you a call, and you willingly dive headfirst back into his orbit. You set boundaries this time, put up walls, determined to keep yourself from being burned again. You’re not about to let him get too close. Only problem? Bucky didn’t get that memo.

***Incubus (Incubus!Bucky) by @after-avenging-hours

When some of the best sex of your life leads to the unveiling of a world you barely even knew existed, you know you’re in a heap of trouble. James Buchanan Barnes is the kind of man that fills your deepest and darkest fantasies, mainly because he is one. When emotions get involved in a relationship that’s been founded on sex, there’s no turning back. And honestly, you’re not even sure if you want to.

***Disney Corruption by @after-avenging-hours

Bucky joins you for your late-night Disney movie sessions. It’s difficult for him to get through them without finding the sexual innuendos

***Hunter!Bucky by @after-avenging-hours

Bucky is part of the hunting party for the village. One day, he catches you in the woods, long after you should be tucked away, safe in the village.

Heartbeat (Soulmate AU) by @after-avenging-hours

Soulmate AU where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together…

I’ll Be Seeing You by @brooklyn-boy

The Howling Commandos come across a tortured Italian woman in the winter of 1944. With only rudimentary means of communication, Sergeant Bucky Barnes still somehow finds himself falling in love.

Siren’s Song by @brooklyn-boy

The Avengers come across the profile of an enhanced individual, missing and presumed still under HYDRA’s control. With the power to bend anyone’s will with just a command, the team decides to prioritize freeing this individual. But trust is hard to earn from a former HYDRA asset. Nobody knows this more than Bucky.

Clan of Three (Mandalorian!Bucky) by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky Barnes is a Mandalorian bounty hunter. All he has to do is take this kid and her glorified babysitter back to the client and be done with it. That’s it. Simple?

Revival by @brooklyn-boy

Bucky returns to his childhood home only to discover its inheritor struggling to return it to its former glory. Luckily for you, Bucky’s memory isn’t that bad.

Compromised by @brooklyn-boy

As a Senator for New York, you’ve been fighting hard to have Sergeant James Barnes acquitted. An attempt on your life by a new terrorist sect brings you in contact with the Avengers themselves, and even closer to the man you’ve been working so hard to protect…

Uptown Girl (Millionaire!Bucky, Modern AU) by @brooklyn-boy

Epilogue

Bucky Barnes is a bit of an eccentric millionaire. He lives alone, aside from his housekeeper/personal assistant. When his mother tells him he needs to get married or be cut off, Bucky lies and tells his mother that his long-suffering assistant is his fiance.

Out of Time by @brooklyn-boy

On the run from HYDRA in 2023, you accidentally use your time-traveling technology to jump 80 years back in time. Safe for the time being and with Howard Stark vouching for the legitimacy of your time travel claims, you’re stuck in the SSR headquarters until you can fix your gear. Which wouldn’t be half as hard if a certain James ‘Bucky’ Barnes wasn’t so damn distracting…

Stereotypical (Model!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avasparks

As a PA/secretary, you are all too familiar with the fantasies nearly all men share: banging their hot assistant. Former jobs haven’t worked out for you for that exact reason, and now starting out at a new company, as the secretary for the CEO of the hottest modeling agency in the country, you’re hoping this one will be different. But after meeting your new boss, Mr. J.B. Barnes, you’re not so sure if it will be. Then again, maybe Mr. Barnes is not as stereotypical as you think he is.

Sugar (40s AU) by @softlybarnes

By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war.

Two Kingdoms (Royals AU) by @softlybarnes

Y/N, set to be a queen, is taken on her wedding day by King James, the ruler of another land. At first glance, James’ Kingdom seems to be thriving but Y/N soon realizes something darker and more sinister is at work in James’ land. And she seems to be at the center of it.

City Love (CEO!Bucky, Modern AU) by @chrevastan

You attend one of Natasha’s office parties against your will and end up meeting a charming stranger who turns out to be the person who runs the company.

Next to Me by @sgtjbuccky

After an attempt on you and your identical twin’s life, your father calls in the Avengers for protection. Bucky soon realizes your father’s goal is solely to keep you sister safe, and decides that the times of doing the bidding of others are long gone, and takes your protection into his own hands.

Most Wanted (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @sgtjbuccky

The life you dreamed of wasn’t the one you lived. Day in and day out you tried to change the outcome, but somehow you always ended up right where you began. Fed up with it all, you wished upon a star and was granted with Bucky Barnes, and it wouldn’t take you long to realize that whatever mess you were about to get tangled up in, it would change your life entirely.

Merry and Married (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023

It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone.

Astrophile (Firefighter!Bucky, Single Dad AU) by @all1e23

Orion Rebecca Barnes’s favorite thing in the whole world (Besides her daddy of course) was spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house. Aunt Nattie takes her every time her dad has to work an overnight shift at the station and it’s her absolute favorite place. Plus, the owner GIVES her any book she wants because she’s the coolest girl Ori has ever met. It didn’t take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love?

To Build a Home (Family AU) by @ussgallifreyfics

The glimpses into a life Bucky never thought was possible for himself. A world where he would find someone who he could love and be loved in return - a person he could start a family with. This is how an ex-assassin navigates the world of parenthood.

Not Happening (Modern AU) by @notimetoblog

An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

Hero For Hire by @delicatelyherdreams

Tired of constantly being sat on the sidelines for missions, Bucky Barnes decides that he’s going to do his own hero work and offer his services to the public as a freelance “hero for hire.” He expects to be asked to rescue cats from trees or help little old ladies cross the street, but he doesn’t expect to get tangled up in your life. He definitely doesn’t expect to fall for you either. But, when you’re a hero for hire, you’ve gotta see the mission through.

<<p>Stray by @jaamesbbarnes

When Bucky stumbles upon a stray cat near his building in Bucharest and takes him in, he doesn’t expect for his world to turn upside down.

Schlaflos (Rogers!Reader) by @mareli-carter

Steve’s younger sister, a nurse during the Second World War, finds herself in Hydra’s possession after trying to help the Howling Commandos save Bucky.

The White Wolf (Mobster!Bucky) by @captain-ariel-barnes

James “Bucky” Barnes is the most feared man in New York. What happens when a flower shop owner gets tangled up in his empire?

Sly as a Fox (Vigilante!Reader, SocialMedia AU) by @sunmoonandbucky

After the blip, the Avengers continue on with business as usual. But they soon find out that while they were away, someone took it upon themselves to do the job they left behind.

A Lesson in Love (College AU) by @buckyywiththegoodhair

In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

***Artistic License (Sugar Daddy AU) by @cametobuyplums

Once upon a time in Paris, there was an aspiring creative down on her luck. What’s a beautiful young woman to do? Agree for the wealthy Bucky Barnes to be her Sugar Daddy, of course.

I’m With You (Modern AU) by @wkemeup

When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

Flowers Bloom (Soulmate AU) by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. You are born with flowers around your entire left shoulder.

Agent 28 (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

He’s a Soviet-trained assassin. You’re a secret agent. He has a thing for thigh holsters. You have a thing for his behind (who doesn’t?) But it’s all hush-hush. What shenanigans will the two of you get into to keep your affair concealed from the rest of the Avengers, all while you’re trying to save the world?

Howler & The Black Cat (Vigilante!Bucky x Vigilante!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

By day, you’re just another employee at Stark Tower. By night? A justice-seeker known as Black Cat. No one knows your secret, and certainly not your sometime partner in vigilante activity, sometime-pain in the butt Romeo, Howler. But no matter how hard he tries, you have no intention of giving in…

While You Were Sleeping (mentioned Steve Rogers x Reader) by @kentuckybarnes

Mistaken as Captain America’s girlfriend following a near-death experience, you keep up the pretense under the suspicious eyes of his best friend, Bucky Barnes. But soon you find out that Steve Rogers isn’t all he’s supposed to be, and somehow, Bucky is so, so much more.

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree (40s!Bucky x OC) by @kentuckybarnes

In 1941 Brooklyn, a young woman spends her nights sneaking out of her parents’ house to play jazz piano at clubs. Although she disguises herself to keep out of trouble, it doesn’t fool everyone.

Sugar Daddy’s (Modern AU) cowritten by @kentuckybarnes and @nacho-bucky

Suave, confident, charming Bucky Barnes has a deep dark secret – and you, a small-town investigative journalist, are determined to get to the bottom of it. What lurks in his shadowed past, and how deeply will you be drawn in? Co-written with @caitfairwrites!

Seven-Thirty (Modern AU) by @nacho-bucky

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time.

Lemon Pie (40s AU) by @nacho-bucky

Moments measured in messy days and peaceful nights; in too-tart pies and slobbery toys. Bucky returns from war to find a life he never expected: a rich symphony of mishaps and mayhem and immeasurable love.

#fic recs #marvel #avengers fic #bucky barnes fic #clint barton fic #tom hiddleston fic #tom holland fic #peter parker fic #loki fic

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squeeneyart · 4 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 11

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger!

Martin wants to do the right thing.

It's time to make some phone calls.

Martin resigned himself to a day of catch up. The recent circumstances hadn’t been the most conducive to completing his work tasks, but he was employed for the time being. He would wait for the right time to reopen the can of worms upstairs and in the meantime double down on the figures in front of him. The others went to work as well, going through the records they recovered from the library and verifying some information from the storage house.

After some time, he heard Sasha ask, “Martin? This place used to be a bigger fishing town, right? Before the Lukases showed up.”

Martin thought for a moment. “I don’t think it was that great to begin with? I’m sure they didn’t help, but the problem started long before I was born. There may be some people old enough to remember when things were a bit better, but it’s always been a shaky business despite the proximity to the sea.” He paused, then asked, “Is there a reason you’re looking into this? Doesn’t sound very ghost-related.”

Sasha tapped her pen on the table. “It helps to get a timeline of major events. Even if there are coincidences, a broader historical picture often helps with places where the phenomena are… far reaching.”

“What, did the lighthouse eat all the fish?” Martin laughed, but it quickly died as he continued to think about it. “...Could it do that?”

“Doubtful,” Jon said, keeping his eyes glued to his laptop. “It’s possible the family saw an existing, natural decline in job prospects and swooped in to create an even bigger vacuum they could then fill. Nothing supernatural, just horrid people finding a good opportunity.”

Tim snorted. “While they just so happened to buy and operate a possessed lighthouse?”

Jon looked over his screen. “People can have multiple motivations. For example, Peter Lukas apparently enjoys boating and taking the possessions of others for the fun of it. The two aren’t necessarily related.” His eyes dropped back to his task.

“Fair enough. Maybe someone in the family won it in a bet, then? Swiped it from some evil lighthouse keeper.” Tim wiggled his fingers.

Martin laughed silently through his nose and went back to work, assuming his part of the conversation was completed. If he’d learned anything from the situation earlier that morning, it was to quit before weird personal details about his deadbeat fisherman dad came out and ruined the mood.

The three continued to debate possible motivations and causes, eventually trailing off and lapsing into a focused silence. The scratches of pen on paper mingled with the tapping of the keyboard. It created an arrangement that echoed over itself in a round, filling the space and tunneling upward along the staircase. Despite himself, Martin strained to hear anything that felt out of place, but he could feel no intent in the repetition. It was loud, but it was the normal, unnerving loud he’d become accustomed to over the last few months.

There wouldn’t be anything, as long as he kept the dial in the correct position. Not anything he could perceive, anyway. Were they listening, even if they couldn’t stockpile his words? Were they seething at his decision? Were they-

Martin gritted his teeth, willing himself to focus on the page in front of him. The group would call Naomi soon, and if she responded they would be one step closer to confirming his suspicions. For the time being, he would sit with his churning insides and wait.

Relief came at eleven with his lunch hour, which the others were considerate enough to wait for. He barely tasted the sandwich he’d thrown together that morning. There was a heightened atmosphere spread across him and the others, a buzz of excitement. After hours of necessary but tedious paperwork and discussion, it was time again for action.

Sasha dialed the number and waited, drumming her fingers on a pad of paper in front of her. “Available number,” she mouthed, giving a thumbs up. A few seconds passed, and she frowned and ended the call. “But, of course, it is no longer her number. I would change mine too, if people were tailing me.”

They all slumped in their chairs and braced themselves for a long, slow afternoon as Sasha looked at her pad of paper and dialed the first number on the list of many, many Naomi Hernes.

Some answered with varying levels of politeness, mostly responding with “never heard of the place” or “the name doesn’t ring any bells”. Otherwise, she left a short, scripted voicemail giving little information other than Evan’s name in hopes that Naomi would take the bait. She kept their institute out of it entirely.

When asked why, Sasha explained that this part of the investigation would have to be off record. Evidently, the Magnus Institute encouraged thorough research until it involved digging into its own benefactors. Unless they discovered a lead that didn’t implicate the Lukas family, they would be on their own.

The minutes ticked on, dragging more and more with the lack of success. After thirty minutes of fruitless calls, Sasha said, “It may take a while. We don’t know her schedule or if she’s even on this list. I was able to go off her last recorded location, but that’s about it.” Sasha leaned back in her chair, stretching her shoulders.

Jon pulled his laptop back in front of him. “We’ll need to give her time. If she’s aware of the Lukases keeping tabs on her, she’ll probably be wary of us. Keep going through the list. Tim and I will continue with the rest.”

Martin sat around for the rest of his lunch hour, losing hope with each passing call. He ought to have considered how long it could take to reach her, or that she might not answer at all. Why would she? What reason did she really have to trust a bunch of strangers?

He looked down at his phone, mindlessly flipping between apps before settling on his notes. Under Naomi’s old number was the one for Evan’s mobile, locked safely away in the storage house. Running his thumb up and down the side of his phone, he peeked up at the others through his bangs.

“I know we’re waiting to hear back from Naomi, but-” They looked at him, and he swallowed hard. “We know who it probably is, right? We have something he would know, and we could even-”

“Sorry, Martin, but that’s a big ‘no’ from me,” Tim said, crossing his arms. “If it’s him, he can wait a bit longer. If it’s not, then there could be something bad on the other side that we’re not ready to deal with, something that might even pretend to be him given the opportunity.”

There was an edge to his voice that made Martin shrink sheepishly in his seat. Tim’s face grew soft. “You want to help. I get it, but we should play it safe for now. Once we’re certain of the situation, we’ll do the heroic thing and release his trapped soul or get him out of the sound booth he’s locked himself in or whatever it is that needs to be done.”

Martin nodded glumly and looked back at his phone. After a moment, a notification popped up on the screen.

Tim: and if we get him out and hes as hot as they say he was, then who knows ;)

All the tension in Martin’s shoulders was released with a high-pitched snicker that his hand failed to stifle. The other two turned their gazes on him. Martin’s ears turned beet red at the attention he’d brought upon himself. Jon shot a suspicious glance at Tim, whose broad smile denied nothing.

By twenty minutes to four, there had been no sign of the person they were hoping for, ignoring one response by someone who thought they were being hilarious. Martin had only one task remaining before it was time to leave, and once his things were carefully packed away he walked over to the stairs and placed a hand on the rail. From behind him came the sound of chairs squeaking against hard tile.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the three had all risen from their seats and were shooting surprised looks at each other.

Martin sighed. “I’m just going up for my normal work stuff. I won’t be touching anything I’m not supposed to.” Not that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind, but if he’d wanted to do anything there in secret, which he didn’t, there was no point in doing so when other people in the building could hear every amplified word.

“Well, I’ll be coming up anyway. Might as well get a better look at what buttons you’re pressing.” Tim jogged over, waving a hand at the other two dismissively and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Keep an ear on the phone and text us if something comes up.” Jon and Sasha, who’d clearly been about to walk over and join them, sat down despite their visible apprehension. Tim started up the stairs, leaving Martin to trail behind.

Before long, Tim began to rely more and more on the handrail to keep his balance. About halfway up the stairs, he held up a hand for Martin to stop and dropped his head.

“Okay,” he said, flexing his grip on the rail. He took a moment to breath. “Okay, I’m good. Damn this place, though.”

When they reached the top, Tim faced the stairs and, at a regular speaking volume, said, “Hello? Tim Stoker to Boss Man.” He waited, then checked his phone. “Huh. Guess sound does have limits in this place. Good to know.” Tim smiled at Martin. “Let’s see those switches, then.”

Martin could see that Tim’s eye was just as drawn to the dial as Martin’s as they approached the panel. Martin slowed down his process, taking care to show Tim what he was doing with the different buttons and knobs, and Tim seemed to be taking notes on his phone.

“If it would help, I have a list of everything I do up here on my desk. My handwriting isn’t the best, but it’s legible.” Martin continued to complete the steps without thinking, allowing muscle memory to take over. “Not that I’ve looked at it super recently. I also have the version in my work contract? But that would have to wait ‘til tomorrow.”

Tim nodded, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe there’s a hidden ‘I cede my right to file a claim against any injury due to imprisoned spirits’ clause or something in the fine print.” Martin laughed weakly but said nothing. Leaning on the side of the panel, Tim looked at him. “You really think it’s the guy? Evan?”

Martin’s finger slipped, missing a button entirely. “...Yeah. I can’t think of anything else it could be? And I get it, there are some things I don’t know about-”

“Lots of things, actually. Look,” Tim stood up straight, crossing his arms. “I’m not usually the lecturing type, but you seem like a well-meaning guy, and this thing could very well be taking that from your voice and turning it back on you.” There was an unmistakable discomfort, though Tim was doing his best to look authoritative. “You’re not used to this stuff, but most of it ends up being not so nice.”

Resuming his task, Martin looked down and asked, “Have you ever… studied something like that?”

From the corner of Martin’s eye, he could see Tim shift a bit and lean against the panel again. “They’re something I’ve worked on, yeah.”

After a final flip of a switch, Martin looked back at Tim whose gaze was firmly centered on the window. Martin rolled his fingertips on the surface of the panel. “Any personal experiences or advice? For my benefit?”

Tim took some time to think, and without taking his eyes from the window responded, “If you can shut them up, make sure they stay that way.” Tim let out a breath through his nose. “And if someone’s got by one, chances are they won’t be kept alive. Once a copy is made, there’s no reason to keep the original.”

The bitter twinge in Tim’s voice warned against the questions forming on the tip of Martin’s tongue. If Tim was talking from experience, the specifics were none of Martin’s business.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shook his head. “So, since I was the one who turned the dial, do me a favor and keep away from it?” When Martin nodded in agreement, Tim uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the panel. “Good. It’s a deal then. Now, when we get back down, we can pretend to have had a riveting talk about how fish hate your town.”

Once they were back on the main floor, disappointment washed over Martin. “Was it too much to expect anything back so soon?” He looked through his bag, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“You get used to it.” Sasha paused from collecting some papers to watch him sulk in his corner. “Can’t tell you how many follow-up calls I’ve made that led to nothing.”

“Or all the numbers we’ve gotten that were for takeout places,” Jon grumbled.

“I dunno, I’ve been pretty lucky with numbers.” Tim winked at Sasha, who shoved some of the papers into his arms.

Martin smiled, though Tim’s comment reeked of forced levity. He zipped up his bag and walked to the door. “Let me know if anything comes up?”

“Of course.” Jon pushed himself out of his chair and walked at a brisk pace to meet him. “Could I have a word with you, before you head home?” He opened the door and gestured outside.

“Oh. Sure?” He avoided Tim’s very pointed eye contact and walked through the door. Jon followed behind with his arms wrapped around himself, his thin, long-sleeved shirt doing nothing for him in the cold. “Do you need to-”

“I’ll be back inside in a moment.” His stubbornness did nothing to protect him from the shivers. “About tonight.”

With all excitement and distraction gone, the weight that had been balancing precariously in Martin’s chest dropped to his stomach like a lead ball. “Is there a way to make this not horrible?”

Jon frowned. “I don’t know the full circumstances, but ultimately, I believe you’ll be doing the right thing.” He placed a tentative hand on Martin’s shoulder and gave it a stiff pat. He immediately retracted his hand and wrapped it back around himself, keeping his eyes on anything but Martin. “You know her better than I do. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

Martin clung to that confidence and the feeling of pressure from Jon’s hand. “Okay...” He took a large breath. “Okay. I should get going then. No point in putting it off.”

Jon nodded his head and hurried back inside, leaving Martin to walk home with more courage than he’d managed to gather for himself. As the sun drifted closer to its exit, Martin latched onto that little encouragement and thought of what to say.

“Hi, Mum. I found your skin? No, that sounds weird-”

“I know there are things I don’t understand, but-”

“Mum, I found this in the attic. I know it’s yours. Do you want to-”

“A guy from work said to give you this? Wait, no-”

And so he continued, muttering under his breath all the ways he could broach the subject without it being a complete disaster.

This could change things.

Would she scream? He’d never heard her truly scream. It wasn’t her way, but this could unlock something so much worse than he’d known. How dare he bring this to her if she’d hidden it for a good reason? That seemed a likely reaction.

Would she talk to him about her time in the water? Would she reminisce about a time before things went wrong, when he would watch her from the porch? Too hopeful to consider, but nice to think about.

Perhaps she would tell him to return it to the attic, and it would never be spoken of again. Things would be as they always were, just with a new secret to hang over them both. Another weight on their shoulders, another little barrier keeping them from being anything but what they had been for decades now.

Jon had said it would be the right thing to do. He would know about these things more than Martin, right? His word had to be worth something. No matter how she might react, this had to happen sooner or later.

The walk home sped past like nothing. The front door was before him, and then closed behind, and he felt more than ever like he was on a track, being moved from place to place without any consultation of his will. The night proceeded like clockwork, dinner prepared and completed with only his voice and the occasional terse response from his mother for filler noise. It wasn’t yet time.

The fog had rolled in thick as evening turned to night, and they looked out into it from the front porch, her breaths steady and bracing. Through his barely open eyes, Martin saw a hint of rolling waves before the salt brought out the tears and washed away his vision.

He walked his mother back inside and helped her prepare for bed. Once she was settled against the headboard, Martin coughed and began in a low, gentle tone. “Mum. Can I talk to you about something?”

She frowned, tired contempt rippling across her face. “Must you now? You’ve had all night to talk.”

Martin clenched and unclenched his teeth. “It’s important. Please, it’s...it’s about something I found in the attic.”

His mother froze, her hand gripping the quilt on her lap. Annoyance gave way to a wide, blank stare that brushed just over his shoulder. “I did not ask you to retrieve anything from there.”

Martin shrank back. “Yes, I know. I just went up to make sure there hadn’t been a-any issues with the roof after some of the rain recently since we keep some things in storage up there, and I wanted t-”

“Bring it to me. Now.” Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet for him to hear.

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Martin stood too quickly, grabbing the rickety bedside table for balance and causing a loud thump as one of its legs slammed into the ground. The dim lamp on top of it wobbled, creating unnerving shadows on the walls. He winced. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and let himself breathe. Okay, he thought, this was a good thing. He walked up the stairs two at a time with his long legs, speeding down the hall while keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible. She wanted him to bring it to her. He would do as she ordered. Everything would be okay, he told himself, ignoring the strange sinking feeling in his gut.

It was where he’d left it, folded loosely in the corner to avoid any possible creasing. It pressed heavily into his hands, and he brushed off a little more dust as he walked back down the stairs. At his mother’s door, he paused and adjusted it one more time to a position he felt was the most dignified. Then, he entered the room.

She was looking out her window, through the misted glass and into the fog that surrounded their home. Her hands were limp over the quilt, one placed gently on top of the other. When the door clicked shut behind him, there was an almost imperceptible turn of her head, though he couldn’t see anything but her clenched jaw.

“Mum? I’ve brought it. Do you want me to place it on the bed? I-”

His mother turned to face him fully, and as her eyes locked onto him a torrent of pure fury slammed into his chest. He stumbled, the selkie skin almost escaping his large, clumsy hands.

“Give it to me.” Her rasping voice made Martin’s throat hurt, and her neck seemed to throb with effort. When he failed to move his legs, she forced out, “now, you stupid man!”

He tripped forward, and when he was within reach she snatched the skin from him. She clasped it to her chest just as Jon had that morning, with the same smoothing motion over its surface. Unsure of what to say, he became a statue. Every muffled intake of air burned down into his chest.

Taking in a shuddering breath, his mother whispered, “Leave.”

“What?” There was a painful crack in his voice.

“Leave me alone.”

The only thing he could see were his own near-faded footsteps as he climbed up the cliff side, the fog doing well to obscure the surrounding foliage.

He needed to be out of the damned fog. That’s why he’d fled the house, and the beach, and the crashing waves. That’s all it was down there, a house adrift in grey nothing, and he was too loud of a presence to truly give her solitude with his tramping feet on the floorboards upstairs.

It was past sundown when he reached the end of his climb, and the corner lights looked as much as they had the night before. As they had on any other night he’d spent wandering the dark, emptying streets. Pulling his coat more tightly around himself, Martin marched forward, drawn to the only other place to which he had a key.

He looked up before he could think too hard about it, and the sky bore down on him until all he could do was fall back into the gaping pit waiting just behind his heel. Had it felt like this before? Yes, it had, hadn’t it? A giant emptiness in the ground waiting to swallow him whole, and as he had seen it, so from it the vertigo had come. Only now it was polite enough to slow down and let him see the horror below.

He woke up on the ground with a groan, just outside of the florist shop. It was closed for the night, and there was no one inside or out to stare as he lifted himself out of a puddle, the arm of his coat soaked through with water. He was halfway through trying to regain some semblance of focus when he realized his glasses had fallen from his nose and were now lying on the ground beside him.

Relieved that his impaired vision was no worse than usual, he reached over to pick up his glasses. As he did so, he glimpsed at the water’s surface, and for just a moment the blurry vision of his face looked just enough like someone else. He gasped, snatching his glasses and scrambling to sit on the curb.

She’d never called Martin that. She’d had other ways of showing her frustration with him, but that… that had been for someone else. Of course. He hadn’t even thought to warn her of his re-entry, so he had gone into her room and with just that lamp by her bed the doorway must’ve been so dark-

The pounding in his head grew more fervent, and he curled into himself until he faced the ground, head between his knees. As the minutes crawled by, the pain began to subside, and eventually he was able to stand, even if there was a slight shake to his legs.

“Twenty years and still you don’t learn.”

He continued without reason, thankful for the empty road ahead, his arm going cold in its dripping sleeve.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au #jonmartin

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