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krreader · 4 years

Text

aurora.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader ; jeon jeongguk x reader ; jeon jeongguk x iu fandom: bts ; solo artists (iu) warnings: language genre: angst ; fluff word count: 6k+

summary: dawn comes after the darkness, and with it the promise that what has been torn by the sea is not lost. - lisa wingate

a/n: you read that right. 6k. this escalated so hard. but anyways, let me say the biggest fucking thank you to my lovely friend @belovedcherry who actually commissioned this and was kind enough to let me post it. I am beyond grateful for you, seriously. I truly hope this is everything you wanted and more and thank you again for being such an amazing person. I love you, boo ♥

“What are you doing? It's too early,” you turned around when Jeongguk opened the curtains, the sunlight hurting your eyes this early in the morning, so you tried to squeeze them together tighter.

He started chuckling and jumped back into bed, wrapping an arm around your middle and pulling you against his naked chest, “It's 11 AM, (Y/N).”

“Too early,” you whined, but started giggling when he began to kiss your shoulder, then neck. His hand rested on your hip, but slowly traveled up until he could hold your hand.

His thumb brushed over the back of it, then over the diamond ring that he put on your finger only last night. Then, you finally opened your eyes, smiling at the memory of the simple, yet beautiful proposal over dinner. The most wonderful things he had said last night, about you, your future..

“I still can't believe it,” you whispered.

“Believe it. Believe that you're going to be the lucky Mrs. Jeon (Y/N) soon,” he chuckled into the nape of your neck and pulled you yet again closer, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“I really am the luckiest woman alive.”

It was a memory that used to give you joy, of course. How couldn’t it? A proposal was supposed to bring happy memories with it.

But it seemed as if everything went downhill from there on. Thinking back on it, that was the last good memory that you had of your time together.. of him. And if you could.. you’d gladly erase it from your mind, just so you’d finally stop your heart from hurting so much and the tears from flooding.

But how could you have possibly known? After four years, you obviously had trusted him blindly and believed everything he told you. Every promise and every 'I love you' was a genuine one, you didn’t even question it once.

So how could a person that promised you the world, throw you away like garbage in less than five seconds, when you were ready to give up everything for them? How could the person that promised you their name replace you so easily and give it to someone else only five months after your broken engagement?

Like it meant nothing.. like you meant nothing.

“I don't.. I don't understand,” everything was.. fine. Everything was perfect, this made no sense, why was he saying these things? Why was he suddenly talking about IU again when he hadn’t mentioned her name in years?

Was this because.. she broke up with her boyfriend?

“I'm truly sorry, (Y/N).”

“You're.. sorry?” you got up from the couch, your eyebrows furrowed, “You're telling me you're sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry that you want to throw away everything you and I built for the last years for the chance of being with someone else? You're replacing me for the slight possible of being with.. someone else?”

Being broken up with was a horrible feeling in itself. But the reason for it being that he wanted to replace you.. now that was something that would leave you scarred forever.

Jeongguk tried to look at you, but he failed miserably.

He felt mad at himself and so utterly ashamed, but it's what his heart wanted.. it's what it always wanted. So he couldn't pass up the chance of finally being with her now that he got it.

“She already approached me, (Y/N).”

“So you already cheated on me,” it wasn't a question. It was a statement.

“No!” he quickly yelled out, “No, we didn't, we only.. we agreed to meet.”

“You fucking asshole,” you let out a humorless laugh, your head shaking, “You fucking asshole,” you repeated, but this time you screamed at him, pulling the engagement ring off your finger and throwing it at him.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Jeongguk and you used to be so happy that even the thought of you eventually breaking up with each other was not something you could have ever seen happening. He was your soulmate, your best friend, your ride or die. He was the one who was always there even when he was far away, the one who you saw as the father of your children.. well.. that one turned out to be kind of true.. but only kind of.

“Miss?” you jumped a little when the lady working at the airport stood in front of you with an unsure smile, but quickly put on a smile as well to show her that you were ready to listen now that she already ripped you out of your thoughts, “I'm really sorry, but there's no seat left in the front row, all passengers that sit there paid extra already.”

“Ah, I see.. thank you for trying anyways.”

The only reason why you wanted that seat was that you would have liked to stretch out your legs a little more. Ever since your pregnancy began you were having trouble with your legs swelling, something completely normal, but on such a long flight you would have appreciated it if you have had the chance to stretch a little bit.

Your hands rested on your belly, a sigh escaping your lips, “I hope you'll be more comfortable than mommy, little bean.”

This wasn't the life you had wanted for your child.

You had wanted your child to have a happy family once it was born, a happy father and mother who were more than excited to finally be able to hold him or her in their arms. But what would they get instead? A scared and lonely shell of a person who was struggling mentally and financially..

But no matter the financial problems that you had, you couldn't stay in Seoul.

Not with their pictures being plastered everywhere you went. Not with the ‘Congratulations on your marriage!’ slogans in every subway station.

“Flight L730 to Sydney is now ready to depart. We ask our passengers sitting in first class, as well as our gold star members and senators to..-” the lady started to announce. Most people had been lining up for a while already, so you decided that you'd get up and get in line as well, especially because it wasn’t as easy for you anymore to just get up and walk somewhere, despite you only being five months pregnant now.

You were minding your own business, when two girls in front of you started talking about a subject that you really had enough of hearing about.

“Did you see their wedding picture? IU looks breathtaking, don't you think?”

Your jaw began to clench, your eyes slowly looking up and seeing the picture that one was showing the other through the gap of their shoulders.

“I'm so happy for them. He's tried so long, I'm glad he finally got his happy ending with the woman he loves.”

They didn't know.

They couldn't know.

You weren't even allowed to be angry at them, because they were oblivious to what had been going on behind closed doors. No one had known about you. Four years he had kept you a secret. Fuck, even Bangtan didn't know you existed for the first two and a half years. And even after that you rarely saw them. Jeongguk never told you the reason as to why he didn't like you being around them, but you had been alright with it. You weren't dating him for his group, after all.

Still.. you often wondered what people would think of Jeongguk if they knew the truth.

If they knew how he had handled the entire situation.. especially in regards to the baby.

“(Y/N).. you need to stop calling me,” he let out a heavy sigh, his fingers massaging his temples.

“You need to listen to me,” you let out a sob, the pregnancy test between your fingers shaking due to your trembling hand.

This just made everything ten times worse.

A broken heart was one thing, but a baby.. fuck. This complicated matters.

“No, I don't,” Jeongguk looked to the sleeping IU to his right, then pushed the covers away and walked into the living room so he wouldn't wake her up, “I've apologized enough, I can't do much else than that. You need to accept it, as hard as that might be. I truly am sorry.”

“Jeongguk, I..-”

“No. We're done,” he said a bit more sternly now, “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

You had sent him countless of messages afterwards in which you told him about the baby, but the messages were never opened or read. After a while and after a few more calls that never went through, you realized that he probably blocked your number.

And that was that.

Because you didn't have any other way of contacting him.

He had moved out of your shared apartment after the break-up and you didn't know where he lived now. You also didn't have phone numbers of any of his band members.. you had no way to tell him that he'd be a father soon.

But now, after five months and the wedding picture that you saw on the phone of this girl, you once again realized that even if he knew, he probably wouldn't even care..

..because it wouldn't be her baby.

Just like you didn’t matter anymore, because you weren’t her.

“Flight L730 to Sydney is now ready to board for all passengers. Please take out your passport and flight ticket for us to scan and we hope you enjoy your trip.”

Your hand once again rested on your belly, your thumb gently brushing over it.

This was it.. you'd finally leave that part of your life behind that once brought you so much happiness but had left you with a shattered heart.

It was for the best.. maybe you'd even find your happy ending there.. someday.

three years later

“I love Sydney,” Jimin sighed happily, leaning back in his seat and enjoying the sun shining into his face.

“You say that about every country we tour in,” Taehyung chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin, “But I agree.. it's beautiful. Especially the architecture.”

“If you end up talking about architecture again for an hour straight, I'm going to leave,” Jimin warned, but with a smile.

“I mean, come on, how could I not? It's such a beautiful mixture of old and new architecture, forming something so unique and special that..- hey! Come on!”

But Jimin stayed true to his word and actually got up, “No, I'm sorry, I can't listen to another one hour ramble about some architect that’s already been dead for years, I already did that in New York and London. You pay, I'll be back at the hotel.”

Taehyung let out a disappointed sigh. He should have simply asked Namjoon hyung to go to lunch with him. At least he would have listened.

“Uh, sorry? Pay?” he asked when a waitress passed by, then quickly looked down to pull out his wallet from his pockets.

“I hope the food tasted good?”

“Ah, very good!” and when he turned around to look at you with his boxy smile, both you and him instantly froze.

You recognized each other within a second, despite you not having seen each other in years, and even then, only briefly.

He knew who you were and you obviously knew who he was, not just because of the fact that his face was plastered all over town because of their upcoming concert, but also because of your history. Your history, that you successfully managed to forget about.. or at least.. that's what you wanted to believe.

“You..- (Y/N)? What the hell are you doing here?” he instantly switched back to speaking Korean, his smile reappearing on his face. He even got up and hugged you tightly, despite you and him never having been that close to each other.

But maybe he was just happy to see a familiar face in a foreign country.

You just stood there stiff as a tree, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Man, it's so nice to see you again! It's been.. what? Three years? How have you been? What's new?”

You couldn't have this conversation.

Not here and not now, because you couldn’t predict your emotions.

You hadn’t talked about what had happened to anyone ever since you left and you didn’t want to do that now after you successfully locked that part away and threw away the key.

“Do you want to pay with cash or card?”

Taehyung was taken aback, but the surprise of meeting you so suddenly made him completely forget about the reason why you left in the first place.

Maybe seeing him didn't bring back the best of memories.

“Card, please.”

He took that moment that you walked away to get the machine for his card to gather his thoughts and really think about what he'd say next. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, or more than he already had.

And so when you were back and inserted the card, he said, “I never got to say that I was sorry about everything that happened between you and Jeongguk, but..-”

“Don't,” you whispered, your eyes firmly on the machine.

“What?”

“Don't pity me,” you handed him the machine, “I don't want pity.”

He gulped down hard. He hadn't said one good thing to you, apparently. And he felt bad about that. So he quickly typed in his PIN, but before he handed you back the machine, he said: “When are you done here? Do you.. want to go grab a coffee? Talk about.. something? Not.. him. Just catch up?”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Please, (Y/N). You live here now, right? So maybe.. you could show me around a bit? I only have today off, so I'd love to see some secret spots that only the locals know about,” he grinned.

“I'm not your tourist guide,” you said bitterly and handed him the receipt, already wanting to leave again.

“I know you're not,” he got up and wrapped his hand around your wrist, quickly letting it go again when he saw the way you looked at his hand, “I want to know how you are. I truly do.”

It was the sincerity in his eyes that made you actually think about it. A part of you told you not to fall for it, that he was just like Jeongguk and that you'd get nothing good out of having an actual conversation with him, even if you'd never see each other again after today. But you had always liked Taehyung those very few times that you saw him. He always treated you well, respected you and took good care of you when you were out together for dinner.

So because of old time's sake, you said: “I get off in two hours. So 5PM sharp,” and with that you turned around and walked back into the restaurant, leaving a smiling Taehyung behind.

“Hyung!” Jeongguk ran after Taehyung when he wanted to get into the elevator, “I've been looking for you! Do you want to go out? Do something?”

Should he tell him? Probably not.. not even for his sake, because Taehyung knew that he didn't care, but for your sake. You probably wouldn't want him to know that you were here.

“I already have plans, sorry.”

“Huh? With whom?”

“See you tonight for dinner!” Taehyung pressed the button and watched Jeongguk's eyebrows draw together in confusion when the elevator doors closed.

He was a little early when he arrived back at the restaurant, so he just stood outside and watched you work for a while.

You were still pretty.. he always thought you were beautiful, but the Australian sun illuminating your skin and smile.. it suit you. Taehyung could never quite understand Jeongguk on why he rather wanted IU than you. If anyone were to ask his opinion on the matter, he immediately would have chosen you to be prettier than her. But maybe that’s just personal preference..

“You should just ask her out, mate,” a guy nudged his side, making Taehyung jump a little.

“Sorry?”

“(Y/N). She's single. Actually, would do her good to have someone by her side,” he only understood half of what he was saying, especially because of the accent, but this guy seemed to know you. When he walked into the restaurant he realized that he must be your co-worker since the two of you started talking casually.

It was only when you approached Taehyung after you got off that you confirmed it, “My co-worker thinks you have a crush on me.”

“I just.. I wasn't.. I was just..-”

“Relax,” you chuckled, “I told him you're an old friend,” you shouldered your bag, “What did he tell you?”

“Honestly? I don't know. The accent was a bit.. much.”

“Yeah,” that made you laugh as you two started to walk away from the restaurant together, “It takes a little time to get used to it. But people are nice here, you know?”

“So you're happy?”

You didn't answer right away, really thought about your words, “I'm.. okay. It's easier here than it was in Seoul. And it's getting better every day, you know?”

Taehyung nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, “I thought about you a lot, actually. About whether or not you were doing okay. Some of us thought about contacting you, but we didn't know how.. and.. well, we didn't know whether or not we should get involved.”

“I'm glad you didn't,” you admitted, “I needed space and.. time. I needed to be alone to really cut that part of me off, as hard as that sounds.”

“No, I understand,” he nodded, “Still.. it can’t have been easy, moving here all on your own..”

“I wasn't alone.. not really.”

“Oh? Then you..-?”

Taehyung must have thought about a man, a boyfriend maybe. A past one, since that co-worker mentioned you were now single.

But that's.. not really what you have had in mind.

Before Taehyung even knew it, you had led him to a child care center. Only a few children were out playing at this time, since it was already rather late.

He was confused for a moment, thought you might just wanted to pass by, but.. you walked in.

And he followed.

“MOMMY!” a little girl, not older than three, ran into your arms with her black pigtails, you picking her up and spinning her around.

“Ah, I missed you so much,” you showered her face with kisses, loving the giggling sounds she made, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeeeeah! We made a lot of drawings! I’ll show you!”

“Okay,” you gently put her back down with a smile, “Then hurry, get your bag and paintings. I'll wait here for you.”

She ran back inside, past the child care worker who waved at you to greet you.

For a moment you had completely forgotten that Taehyung was even there, only when he spoke did you remember, “Oh my god..”

“I told you not to pity me.”

“I'm.. not, I'm just..- does he know?! He never said anything?! Oh my god, he knew and didn’t say anything? Or did you never tell him? I don’t..-” his eyes were wide, plainly speaking what he was thinking. Which.. didn’t make much sense.

“I tried telling him, but he blocked my number. He was.. too busy,” you shrugged, “I don't care anymore, Taehyung. I made a promise to myself when I gave birth to her that I won't let him ruin my life any more than he already had. I got two jobs to provide for my girl, I got us an apartment that is big enough for the both of us and I'm doing the best I can to give her everything she needs and wants. I don't need him anymore and I will never need him again.”

He was.. glad to hear that, really. He was actually even a little proud that you got your shit together like this, but it still pained him that Jeongguk would do this to you. To him, it almost felt like he was a little bit responsible, even though that was bullshit.

Taehyung couldn’t have changed any of this, Jeongguk was his own person and you knew that.

So you didn’t hold a grudge against him or any of the other members. This wasn’t their fault.

When your daughter ran back out she finally saw Taehyung for the first time. He thought she may be shy, but not at all. She actually extended her hand to him, “I'm Zoe.”

“Zoe, my friend Taehyung is Korean.. can you introduce yourself in Korean?”

Her eyes widened, even beamed a little and Taehyung couldn't help but grin and kneel down when the little girl bowed and introduced herself in Korean.

“Wow! You speak Korean?”

“Mommy taught me!”

“Your mommy is a very smart woman.”

“The smartest,” the little girl giggled and leaned against your leg.

“Oh wow.. did you paint these?” Taehyung pointed at her pictures and your little girl instantly showed him with a proud smile, “These are.. amazing!”

“Mommy he likes them! Did you hear? He likes them!”

“I heard,” you grinned and picked her up, brushing down the skirt of her dress, “Let's go home, though. You need to eat something and so does mommy.”

Taehyung didn't move when you walked up ahead, he didn't think you'd want him to come, but..-

“Hey.. you coming or what?” you smiled at him and even Zoe waved him over, “Come on, Taehyungie!”

"We need to talk about honorifics, I think,” he chuckled.

Taehyung remembered the old apartment you used to live at with Jeongguk. It had been luxurious and big, too big for two people actually.

Your apartment now was a lot more cozier.

It was a one bedroom apartment, small, but still nice. It felt.. like home. Like what he always wanted to experience when he was a teenager and thought about moving in with his girlfriend eventually.

“Look,” Zoe struggled to climb up on the couch, her tongue sticking out in concentration, but once she sat next to Taehyung, she proudly showed him all her favorite paintings that she made, “This is mommy and this is me.”

“Wow.. your mommy looks so beautiful here. And you look so cute!”

“My mommy is the beautifulest person on the planet,” she proudly said.

Taehyung raised his head and watched you make dinner in the kitchen. You had put up your hair, but some strands kept falling into your face. He watched with a smile as you pushed them back again and again, letting out more than one annoyed sigh because of it.

“She really is,” he whispered.

Zoe might only be three years old, but kids were a lot smarter than adults gave them credit for.

She looked the same direction that he looked at, then looked back at him, “Do you like my mommy?”

“Huh? Oh, I..- well, your mommy is an old friend, you know?”

She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Are you.. my daddy?”

Oh god.., “I'm.. uhm.. just a friend, sweetheart.”

“Oh..-” her shoulder slumped in disappointment, then she pulled out a paper from the very bottom and showed him. It was of her, you and a man.. but the man didn't have a face, “I don't have a daddy, you know? All of my friends do.. but I don't.”

It broke his heart.

It absolutely shattered it, actually.

And he wanted to punch the living shit out of Jeongguk and that had never been an emotion he felt before.

“But you have your mommy.. and she loves you so much,” Taehyung tried to console her.

“I know,” she nodded, slowly beginning to smile again, “I love her most.”

“Okay,” you walked into the living room and put two plates down in front of Taehyung and Zoe, “I'm sorry, love, I didn't have time to go grocery shopping today. I hope this is okay..”

“PASTA!” she screamed in excitement and sat down on the floor, “Thank you, mommy!”

You gently brushed through her hair, then handed Taehyung a fork, “I know, not what you're used to, but I hope you like it nevertheless.”

“It's perfect,” you stared at each other for a moment, you being the first to break the eye contact when your daughter started to tell you about her day.

But you still caught yourself staring at him more than once throughout the dinner.

Maybe it was the way he talked to Zoe that made you feel this way, the way that Zoe looked at him.. or maybe it was just that you've been so lonely for so long that it was nice to finally have someone like him here again. Someone from your past? Someone that you once liked and got along with? Or just.. anyone older than your daughter?

Maybe.. maybe it was the fact that it was him.

And you knew that was stupid.

Because what the fuck did you think was going to happen?

He was still a BTS member, he was currently on world tour and he'd leave in what.. two days again? Getting attached was a stupid thing to do and you were not stupid.

Not anymore.

“You need help?” Taehyung peaked his head into the kitchen after dinner to see if you needed help with the dishes.

“I'm good, thank you,” you smiled at him from over your shoulder.

“Mommy, can you read me my bedtime story?”

Zoe squeezed past Taehyung to stand in the kitchen, already in her pajamas.

“Can you give me ten more minutes?”

“I.. can do it. If you.. want to and if that's okay with you?” Taehyung looked at you to await your approval, but it seemed like Zoe decided before you could.

“YES!” she jumped up and down and pulled him with her into your bedroom.

It seemed like you shared your bedroom with your daughter. There was only one bed here, so he assumed you and her slept in one bed.

And he was correct.

She tried her hardest to climb up onto the bed like she had tried with the couch earlier, but she had no chance with the bed, it was simply too high for her.

Taehyung grinned and gently lifted her up, then sat down next to her, “This is my side,” she proudly said as she got under the covers, “Mommy sleeps there.”

“That's so cool!”

“Mommy says that once we have enough money to move, I get my own bedroom!” she squealed in excitement.

And once again, Taehyung's heart started to hurt.

Jeongguk had so much money.. and you were here sharing a bed with your daughter because you could barely afford this apartment. How was this fair?

News flash. It wasn’t.

None of this was.

And that was Jeongguk’s fault right from the start. But it was only now that he realized just how much of his fault it all was.

Nevertheless, he didn't want to show his emotions to the little girl.

Instead, he read her the bedtime story that she wanted to hear, doing his best to deliver it in a way that children would find entertaining.

Only that.. she really didn't care about the story. At least not when he was much more interesting.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, love,” he closed the book but kept his finger in it, in case she wanted to hear more of the story later on.

“Do you know who my daddy is?”

Oh god.. what should he do? Lie to her?

Yes. Absolutely. You had your reasons for not telling her about Jeongguk, he would not be the one to tell her about him if you hadn't so far.

“I don't.”

And once again, her shoulder slumped.

“I think about him sometimes.. maybe he hates me, so that's why he left mommy..”

“No,” Taehyung immediately shook his head, “Don't think like this. You are a wonderful girl. You're beautiful, you're smart and,” he picked up one of her paintings from the night stand, “So talented. Whoever your dad is, wherever he is, he’s an idiot for not seeing that.”

She giggled, “You said a bad word.”

“Don't tell your mommy, okay? I’m scared she won’t like me anymore if she finds out.”

“I promise,” she giggled, then quickly pushed the covers away and cuddled against his chest, closing her eyes for a moment, “I hope you visit us more often. I really like you..”

Taehyung slowly wrapped his arms around the little girl, but he didn't say anything. Because he didn't want to make her a promise that he couldn't keep.

It took five more minutes for him to come out of the bedroom, smiling at you when he saw you leaning against the wall opposite of the bedroom.

“She's a cute girl,” he whispered.

“Yeah.. I got really lucky.”

Taehyung completely forgot that he had dinner plans with the rest of the boys and his managers tonight. He hadn't checked his phone for hours and wasn't planning on doing it now as you and him sat in front of the couch with glasses of wine in your hands.

“I don't ever really bring men over.. so this is all new for her.”

“What.. no sexual adventures?”

“I know this might be hard to believe, but it’s not exactly easy to do that when you have a toddler sleeping in the same bed as you,” you both chuckled.

It was quiet for a moment, you staring into your glass, when he asked: “She seems to be thinking about her father a lot.”

“It's hard for her to understand why everyone else has one and only she doesn't,” you took a sip from your wine, “But I can't bring myself to tell her the truth. Not now. She wouldn't understand anyways. So I just don't tell her at all.”

Taehyung didn't say anything.

And you noticed that.

“You disapprove.”

“It's not my place to have an opinion on this, (Y/N). This is your child and your child only.”

You liked that. That he didn't acknowledge Jeongguk's role in this, because that's what it was to you now. He was only the one who made her, but he had no place in her life.

Still.. you thought about him every now and then.

And it's been three years.

You were over it.

“How is he?”

“No, I'm not talking about him,” he shook his head.

“I'm okay, Taehyung.”

“I don't care. He doesn't deserve for you to even so much as think about him.”

“He's still your best friend, just because of what happened between him and me doesn't mean that you have to hate him too.”

“I didn't hate him. Not before. But..-” Taehyung gulped down hard, “If I have had the chance to have a girl as beautiful as Zoe as my daughter.. I'd be the happiest man alive, (Y/N). And he..-”

“He doesn’t know and I stopped blaming him a long time ago. I realized that I’m a much happier person if I don’t focus on what went wrong in my life and just appreciate what went right. I used to hate him, but at the same time, I am so grateful that he gave me Zoe. She’s everything to me.”

“Still, I'm sorry for what he did to you. And there is no way that I can.. undo what he's done.. but maybe I could.. I don't know.. come by every once in a while?”

“Sydney isn't Busan, Taehyung. You can't just get in the car and be there in two hours.”

“BigHit is giving us more breaks nowadays and.. we're thinking about a hiatus anyways. Nothing is set in stone, but we all need a break. Maybe one year, maybe two, maybe more, maybe forever,” he then realized what he just told you and his eyes quickly widened, “But.. don't tell anyone about that. That's actually top secret and I shouldn't have told you about it.”

You chuckled and nodded, “I won't tell. Promise.”

“So.. what do you say? Would you like that?”

Your smile slowly faded, then you shook your head a little as your eyes fell onto the picture of you and Zoe together, “I trusted Jeongguk with my entire being and he broke me for having done that. I can't be this naive again. Not when I have Zoe. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, I understand you. But I’m going to prove it to you.. that I’m not him,” he made a promise to himself that night. Jeongguk might have abandoned you, but he wouldn't. He had let you go so easily back then, but he couldn't again, not after all this.

You didn't say anything. You just continued drinking your wine with him in silence.

Nothing happened this night.

You just talked about his life, about your life, catching up like old friends. And it really felt like that's what you were, despite you not having talked a lot back in the day.

Taehyung completely forgot the time and boy, everyone was so mad at him for coming back so late. They thought something might have happened.

And that was true.

Something did happen.

He had made a decision and a promise on where he'd be five years from now.

And he kept that promise.

five years later

A hiatus that already lasted almost two years, but they needed that time.

Bangtan was drained and they all needed a break.

However, they all went their separate ways, all doing things they were passionate about. But not with each other.

Jeongguk, who had just signed his divorce papers after his marriage with IU had slowly but surely been falling apart for the last three years, was incredibly lost. Normally, he'd just spend time with his hyungs and they'd pick him up again like they always did, but with the way they were all scattered around the globe, that wasn't so easy anymore.

He ended up taking a flight to Sydney.

Him and Taehyung weren't as close as they once were and he never found out the reason for why that was, but he could really use the one that he once called his actual brother.

Maybe this would even bring them closer together again.

Taehyung had once told them the address he'd be staying at while he'd be in Sydney for emergencies, so that's where he was going now.

A.. surprise visit.

Only that when he got out of the car, he didn't see Taehyung, but someone he had only recently been starting to think about a lot again.

And what a surprise it was indeed.. but for him.

“Why are you so bad at admitting it?” you laughed happily as you got out of the car, Jeongguk staring at the girl, not older than eight, who looked.. exactly.. like him, “I know you like him.”

“Mom, stop it,” the girl giggled, “I don't like him, boys are disgusting.”

“You're such a bad liar.”

The girl sprinted into the apartment building, while you walked to the trunk of the car to get the groceries out.

He just stood there in shock, watched you unpack everything, not being able to move or say anything.

But it was as if you knew.

Knew, that someone was staring and watching you.

You stopped moving momentarily, then you turned around and looked around until your eyes fell on him. The man you hadn't thought about in five years. Because you really had no reason to anymore.

He didn't look good. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages and the man you once thought to be a god now looked so mortal and human.

He reminded you of you when you first came here, actually.

Both of you stared at each other for a very long time, before he was the first to approach you.

“You're.. here..?”

“I think the better question would be why are you?” your voice was so strong compared to his.

“I.. well, Taehyung.. hyung, he gave me..-”

“Mom, can you hurry..-” Zoe stopped when she saw you talk to a man, “Oh.. sorry.”

And you could tell that he knew instantly.

Maybe it was the age or the fact that she looked just like him. Probably the latter.

“Hi,” he managed to say in a high-pitched voice.

“Uh, hey,” she furrowed her eyebrows, “Should.. I get.. dad?”

“Dad?” Jeongguk looked at you in confusion.

“It's fine, love. Just wait upstairs. I'll be right there.”

She left, even though she seemed unsure of whether or not she should leave you alone with this guy. He seemed.. weird.

“Dad?” he repeated, “She..-”

“I tried telling you, Jeongguk. I called, I texted, I did everything I could. But you were too busy chasing after your happy ending that, from the looks of it, didn't work out in the end.”

“Who is dad?!” he asked once again.

“That's none of your business. It's not you, that's all that matters.”

“But I am! I am her father! You just said it, she’s my kid!”

You let out a laugh, “No. You really aren't. You might have been the sperm donor, but that’s all you are.”

You wanted to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm, “(Y/N), wait..-”

“No, I know what you're going to say. You're going to apologize to me and you're going to tell me that you made the biggest mistake of your life. You're going to tell me that IU wasn't the one for you after all and you're going to ask me to forgive you, maybe even for the sake of my daughter. Is that about right?” when he didn't answer, you knew you were on the right track, “So let me tell you right upfront, Jeon Jeongguk. The times of me crying over what could have been are over. Because for the first time in over five years, I am finally happy. Completely and utterly happy. And I'm not like you. I'm not going to throw away my happiness like you did.”

He slowly but surely let go of your arm, his shoulders slumping.

“You were wrong back then, you know? It wasn't me who could have been lucky to have you,” you smiled at him, “It could have been you who would have been lucky to have me. But that's your loss.. not mine.”

He came here for Taehyung, but he didn't even think about his hyung after this encounter.

All he could think about was regret.. his body was full of nothing but regret.

You, on the other hand, got into the elevator with a proud smile and entered your apartment with an even happier smile as you saw your son waddling towards you.

Completely naked.

“Hey, hey, hey, why are you running around with no pants again?”

The little boy giggled and hid behind you and a moment later, Taehyung slid into the hallway with his socks.

“Oh! Hey! You got him!”

“Did he run away again when you wanted to change his diapers?”

“I swear it's not my fault,” he laughed, quickly kissed your cheek and then picked up his son, “Come on now, I know changing diapers isn't your favorite, I don't like it either, buddy, especially after the last time you peed in my face, but it has to be done.”

You walked into the kitchen with a grin to put away the groceries when your daughter joined you.

“Who was that guy, mom?” she sounded worried, but you still smiled at her.

“Just.. someone from my past.”

Maybe she knew. If she did, she didn't say anything.

Life changed as much for you as it did for her.

She wasn’t the three year old anymore who was yearning for a father, because she had one now. And even if she knew that Taehyung wasn’t her biological father, it didn’t matter to her. He raised her. He loved her. He cared for her.

She hugged you from behind like the angel that she was and held you tight, whispering, “I love you, mommy,” into your back.

Your life used to be so broken that you felt like it would never be okay again.

But as you could hear your son scream from happiness and your husband making airplane sounds and as you turned around to properly hug your daughter, you once again realized that you’ve finally passed the stage of darkness.

“I love you too, Zoe Kim.”

1K notes · View notes

valdomarx · 3 years

Text

Number Theory

On another version of Atlantis, John is a mathematician who is better with numbers than with people. But he's going to have to learn to get on with his team and their bossy leader, Rod, if he wants to survive here.

Stargate Atlantis, McShep, mensa!verse, 9k, rated E.

Also on AO3.

Dr. John Sheppard straightens his glasses, pulls his lab coat around himself, and makes one final, futile attempt to tame his hair.

He takes a last look around the SGC, bustling with scientists and marines and boxes of supplies, and wonders how everybody seems to know their place and what to do already.

Then he steps through a wormhole and into another galaxy.

Atlantis is stunning. Terrifying, and dangerous, and liable to kill them all, but stunning all the same.

He protests that there’s no need for a mathematician on an offworld team, but the head of science insists. John sourly suspects this Rod guy enjoys watching him wheeze and stumble every time they have to run for their damn lives.

But it turns out it’s useful for a field team to have someone around who can crack codes and work computers. And John hates field work less than he expected to, despite the unpredictability and the peril and all that awful running.

Sometimes, like when he breaks the encryption on a Wraith code in the nick of time and diverts an enemy ship away from its path toward Atlantis, he even feels a tiny bit like a hero.

Other than his team duties, though, Atlantis isn’t that much different from Caltech or MIT or the Air Force base at Wright-Patterson, or any of the other places he’s worked.

Everyone knows each other, except for him. Everyone bands together to look out for each other, and he stares in from the outside. Eating in the mess hall is like being catapulted back to high school.

So he makes himself at home in his lab. It’s quiet there, and there’s a plentiful supply of coffee, and there are only a couple of other mathematicians who occasionally pass through and largely leave him alone.

They’re next door to the noisy, boisterous science labs, where all the cool civilians hang out. But that’s fine. He gets used to ignoring them the same way he ignores the marines.

It’s just him and his numbers.

And sometimes, inexplicably, Rod or Teyla or Ronon, who will come by and sit at his desk and drink his coffee. He never understands what they’re hoping to achieve, but he doesn’t mind as long as they don’t touch anything.

Teyla appears in the doorway, staring at his whiteboard. It’s covered top to bottom with equations, and he’s had to stick up bits of paper around the walls to fit more on.

“Rod requested that I see how your work is going,” she says, voice giving nothing away.

He grits his teeth against the annoyance of the interruption. “It would be going faster if I could work unimpeded.”

She ignores the petulant note in his voice, squinting closer at the whiteboard. “What is this?”

“This is number theory. It’s the underlying basis for mathematics.”

Teyla raises an eyebrow. “And this is different from what Rod does?”

He sneers. “Very different. That’s just theoretical physics.”

“You do not respect Rod’s chosen field?” She seems genuinely curious.

“It’s fine, for, you know,” his lip curls, “an applied science.”

“I see. So this work can help us locate Wraith hive ships?��

He shifts his weight. “Well. I might need to, uhh, collaborate with Rod on that. I provide the conceptual models and he does the,” he waves dismissively, “practical calculations.”

“It seems that you two accomplish more when you work together.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. But he’s useful as an assistant, I suppose.”

When they learn there are three Wraith hive ships on their way to destroy the city, there isn’t much time for personal conflicts. They have a long-shot strategy: They’ve sent an emergency distress message in the vague hopes of rescue from Earth. But the Wraith ships are almost here and they need a plan now.

“Use the jumpers,” John suggests, because it’s obvious.

Rod snaps his fingers. “Yes! Put a nuclear warhead on board, fly the jumper right down the hives’ throats, and detonate.”

Elizabeth blanches. “That’s a suicide run.”

“No, no.” John thinks out loud. “Not if we can remote pilot the jumper.”

“Using the control chair!” Rod chimes in. “Sheppard, you’re a genius.”

John is so focused on the threat he forgets to preen over that.

It doesn’t take long for them to hook up the jumper to the chair and start running tests. Just as well, because death from above is coming imminently.

He knows something is wrong the moment Rod’s face falls while he’s poking at the cables running to the chair.

“McKay...” he says, voice low but insistent.

“I know! I know. Just give me a minute.” Rod disappears back into a bundle of cables. “I can fix this.”

Everything is suddenly, startlingly clear. The remote control won’t work, at least not in time. Someone will have to fly the jumper personally.

He and Rod both have the ATA gene, and both the same dubious piloting skills. But there’s not much skill required in flying directly into a hive, is there?

One of them has to do this.

“So long, Rod.” He turns and runs from the chair room to the jumper bay, not bothering to notify anyone of his plans.

“Sheppard! Sheppard!”

He hears Rod yell after him but he can’t think about that now. He has a job to do.

He gets beamed out by the Daedalus at the last moment. The battle is ugly, but the city and the expedition makes it out mostly intact.

Afterwards, Rod drags him into a conference room and yells at him for an hour about his reckless behavior.

John couldn’t give a shit. He has no regrets about his actions.

He gives an insouciant shrug. “Why the earful? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Because I am your team leader, and you didn’t even ask me for permission before nominating yourself for a suicide run!”

“That’s what this is about? Your precious chain of command? Grow up.”

Rod rounds on him and gets up on the balls of his feet. “There are people here who care about you, you dick!”

John blinks at the non sequitur. The idea that anyone would care more about him than about the city and everyone else in it is laughable. “Then they’re idiots,” he snaps and walks out.

Rod can write him up for that in one of the reports he so enjoys filing.

It would be nice if he could say that he learns and grows. That he makes friends. That he gets accepted by his peers and makes a home in the Pegasus galaxy.

But that’s not how this story goes. Not yet, anyway.

He does manage to make himself useful. He invents a new cryptographic algorithm to keep their computers and communications secure from Wraith interference. Elizabeth even gives him a grateful nod when he presents it to her, and says thank you.

He makes some progress on a quantum chaos approach to the Riemann hypothesis, not that anyone here understands that or how profoundly ingenious his work is.

And it turns out that many of the Ancient systems here are based on binary, just like computers on Earth, so he’s able to help Rod parse some of the more complex code. The two of them spend hours poking through the Ancient operating system, Rod fluttering around and theorizing aloud while John sits quietly in the corner, chewing on a pen and thinking.

It’s more fun than he would have expected.

And then, inevitably, he fucks up to a new and truly epic degree. He and Rod find the Ancient’s Project Arcturus, their great hope for extracting vacuum energy from subspace, and he convinces himself he can get it to work.

He’s self-aware enough to know he’s making poor choices, but not mentally strong enough to do otherwise. Because yes, of course virtually unlimited power is tempting, and of course discovering the last great experiment of the Ancients is thrilling. But he's a cautious person. He's not one to take unnecessary risks.

And yet the moment Rod turns to him with that look of delight, saying he's impressed, clapping him on the shoulder like he's done something wonderful, John is just gone. He ignores safety limits and all common sense, and he pushes and pushes and pushes for them to power up the generator, as if his wishes for it to work could make it so.

He wipes out most of a solar system with his hubris, not to mention nearly killing them both, and he's furious down to his bones because he can't figure out why he would have done something so stupid.

Bad enough to fail so spectacularly at your work that you devastate an entire star system, worse to have burned whatever credibility you may have built with your team, but worst of all to have to walk every day among people who know all about your inadequacy.

He's in the queue for the mess and a couple of the marines behind him are sniggering, one of them making a not-very-quiet crack about Sheppard’s ego being a weapon of mass destruction. John is staring straight ahead and pretending to ignore them, but the blood is pumping furiously in his ears and he's gripping his tray so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“You got something to say?” Suddenly Ronon is there, all six-foot-three-million-pounds of him, glaring down at the sniggering marine like he might crush his skull with his bare hands. “If you’ve got something to say to Sheppard, you can say it to me as well.”

The marine backs away, hands held high and spluttering apologies.

Ronon throws an arm around John’s shoulder and walks him to a table so they can sit and eat.

John stares down at his food and wills the panic to subside. “Thanks,” he mutters once his breathing has settled.

“No worries, bud,” Ronon says and steals a piece of carrot off John’s plate. “So, how’s that bomb design you were working on coming along? You know I love a big boom.”

John tells him how his models have predicted the highly energetic variety of naquadah they’ve discovered could be harnessed into more efficient field explosives, and Ronon nods along as if this is all fascinating.

In that moment, John knows he would die for this man without hesitation.

Perhaps the worst part about the Arcturus incident is how unbearably nice Rod is about the whole thing. He tells John that it was both of their decision, that he doesn't blame him, that sometimes these things happen when dealing with advanced technology.

But John can see the disappointment in his eyes and hear the judgement in his voice. He gets a sick, twisting feeling in his stomach when he thinks about it, and that must be Rod's fault.

Rod picks a bad time to come visit the lab.

"Sheppard," Rod leans against the door frame. "I need your report on the Arcturus mission."

The sick feeling in his gut deepens. He hasn't written the report yet. "Bet you’re enjoying making me catalogue my failures."

"What? No. I just need you to submit a report so I can turn it over to Elizabeth."

"I see. You're looking for someone to blame, right? Going to write about how I pushed you and it's all my fault?"

"Of course not," Rod steps closer and there isn't enough air in the room. "I wouldn't do that. What's going on with you?"

He can't bear the look of concern on Rod's face, which he surely doesn't deserve and will surely evaporate soon enough. "Maybe I've had enough of you reminding me of my screw ups via the excuse of paperwork."

Rod's voice sharpens. "Don't blame me because you're feeling guilty. I can't deal with that for you."

The reminder of his lacking emotional skills stings and he lashes out. "Don't try to therapize me. You're hardly in the position to be doling out life advice." It's a mean, petty thing to say, but he's feeling vindictive.

Rod's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John's pulse is notching up and his face is getting hot, the last of his short temper fraying away.

“You’re a people pleaser, Rod!” He realizes he’s yelling. He doesn’t care. “Everything you do is to make other people like you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Rod puffs up. “I try to be a decent human being. I try to think about others and support them. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s fake! It’s all bullshit. Do you even have a personality of your own, or do you just reflect whatever the last person who smiled at you wants?”

Finally, the cracks in the facade of nice begin to show. “Making an effort to treat those around you with consideration isn’t demeaning!” He gets up in John’s face, waving a finger at him. “Not that you’d know, because you never consider anyone other than yourself.”

“At least I’m honest,” he spits, and it’s venomous. “At least I know who I am. Do you? Do you have any idea who you’d be if you weren’t so absorbed in distracting everyone from your flaws?”

He sees the barb hit its mark. Rod stumbles back like he’s been physically shoved, his face crumpling.

“God, you’re an asshole.” It’s not even angry. It’s small, and quiet, and John is suddenly acutely aware of how much taller he is than Rod, how much he towers over him.

Rod turns on his heel and walks away, and John knows that means he’s won. But he doesn’t feel the usual curl of smug satisfaction he gets when he puts someone in their place.

Instead, he just feels empty.

Whatever. It’s not his problem that Rod is having some kind of breakdown. Why should he care that Rod is skulking around the base looking small and miserable? He only said what they both know to be true.

If Rod wants to be a dick about it, that’s on him. If he’s going to remove John from the team, that’s fine. There’s nothing that John can do about it anyway.

He gets back to work, running simulations of ZPM power levels and how long they can expect to sustain the city under different circumstances, given that they won’t be enjoying unlimited power any time soon. He likes modelling, and he knows this work is important.

But for some reason he can’t focus. His gut keeps churning and his temples ache and he’s haunted by the word worthless, worthless, worthless.

When his lab door chimes at well past midnight, he’s ready to tell whoever it is to fuck right off. In fact, the excuse to yell at someone sounds great right now.

But when he opens the door to find Rod standing there, twisting his hands anxiously, he’s too shocked to even be snitty. He’d assumed that Rod and he were done, that it was only a matter of time before he was kicked off the team.

But here Rod is, mouth downturned and saying, “You were right, okay?”

John notes the sad wobble of Rod’s chin and bites back the urge to say something dismissive. “About what?”

“About me. I do try to please everyone. I do want everyone to like me.”

It sounds pathetic, said out loud like that, John thinks but doesn’t say.

Rod is still going. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not some ego trip. When I was younger, I used to be -” He lets out a huff of air. “- very different. I said whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted, and I didn’t care if everyone hated me for it.”

John tries to imagine an angry, mean Rod. His brain can’t picture it.

“I pushed people away because I was afraid they’d reject me. I was always alone and I got very good at telling myself I liked it that way.”

An uncomfortable feeling of familiarity crawls up the back of John’s spine, and he ruthlessly quashes it.

“That changed when I went to the SGC. The people there… They believed in me. They wanted my help, and they wanted to help me. I learned that if I was going to work there, to do important work, then I was going to need connections. And to make connections, I had to think about others, and try to be what they needed. It wasn’t only about me any more.”

Something in the preachy tone of Rod’s voice sets John on the defensive, and his shoulders begin to rise, counterarguments springing to his lips.

“Wait, stop -” Rod lays a hand on his shoulder, and all the aggression leeches out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just trying to explain.”

The earnest look Rod is giving him makes his skin itch.

“I care about everyone here. Including you, John. Perhaps I try too hard sometimes, but that’s only because you all matter to me. I don’t want to let you down.”

Rod is talking in plurals, but John gets the impression he’s speaking to him personally. It’s too weighty, to be handed that kind of sincerity without warning.

“I do...” He coughs and looks at his feet, “I do care about the people here as well. I might not be demonstrative about it but I’m not…” he searches for the right word, “... indifferent.”

He doesn’t say the other words he’s thinking, which are cold, callous, heartless, the things people always call him.

Rod’s hand is still on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and he squeezes gently. “I know you do. I just wish that sometimes you’d let other people see that too.”

John tries. He really does. Ronon tells him that he needs to get out of the lab more, so he resolves to make time to socialize. He doesn’t really know how to do that, but Teyla quietly slides him a copy of the city’s social activity schedule and suggests he goes through the list.

Painting with Major Lorne - no.

Choir with the medical staff - sounds awful.

Extra combat training - absolutely not.

Mensa club - now there’s a possibility.

“Join us for FUN and FRIENDS,” the tiny advert reads. “All welcome (as long as your IQ is over 150).”

That he can do. He joins the club.

It's him and Kusanagi from R&D and Parrish from botany, plus a couple of the gate techs and one of the nurses from medical. Every Thursday night, they get together to solve puzzles and play chess. It's dorky and awkward but it's kind of nice, actually, and the people there don't seem to dislike him.

He thinks maybe he's getting better at this whole people thing.

And then Rod leaves, and everything goes to shit.

It starts off with a crisis, like there always is around here, exotic particles exploding out of a containment chamber which isn’t containing anything. There’s chaos, but there’s also data, so it doesn’t take long before he and Rod are turning to each other as the explanation clicks for both of them at the same time: An experiment to generate vacuum energy being conducted in a parallel universe.

“We can’t do anything from this side,” John reasons. “The bridge is one-way.”

“The inhabitants of the other universe might not even know what the effects here are. We need to go there directly and get them to shut it down,” Rod says, firm and sure. “It’s the only way.”

“But how could we-”

Rod snaps his fingers. “The Ancient shield. That’ll protect whoever travels there.”

“Right. Let me run some calculations.”

His head is buried in his computer when Rod comes running back in with the shield in his hand.

“Fire it up whenever you’re ready,” Rod orders. “I’ve got the shield to protect me.”

John’s head whips up. “You? You’re going?”

“Of course me! Come on, the chance to visit an alternate reality? Who could resist that?”

Icy cold water settles at the pit of John’s stomach. “That’s a one-way trip.”

Rod shrugs, like that’s nothing. “If that’s the cost to save our universe, it’ll be worth it.”

Something like rage explodes inside John’s head. “Absolutely not! I should be the one to go.” He searches desperately for a reason. “You’re needed here.”

Rod gives him a small, sad smile and says, “So are you.”

“That’s bullshit, McKay, and you know it. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Tell you what, let’s flip a coin for it.”

And that’s about as reasonable as he can hope for, so he turns his back to dig a coin out of his lab coat pocket.

That turns out to be a mistake.

“Be safe, John,” Rod says, then he activates the shield and steps into the containment chamber.

That bastard.

He spends three days thinking that Rod is gone for good.

He can’t… He can’t think, and he can’t sleep, and he’s angry all the time. When Zelenka asks for his help running calculations on the spacetime tear above the city John bellows at him, calls him incompetent, and says they might as well just accept that the city is going to be torn apart. Then he stays up all night doing the calculations anyway, because it’s better than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for another interminable evening.

He doesn’t bother eating, or showering, because what’s the point if they’re all going to die within a week? There’s a restless, raging scratching under his skin and it’s not like he hasn’t faced the possibility of death before, but this feels bleak and empty and insurmountable in a way he simply can’t deal with.

And then the rift mends itself, and Rod returns on a beam of light, and everyone acts as if they’re back to normal now and that brush with annihilation was just one of those quirky things that happen in the Pegasus galaxy.

But it eats at John, that feeling of powerlessness, that rippling anger of a problem he couldn’t solve.

Rod slides back into life in the city like it was nothing but another mission, and everyone rushes to say how brave he was, what a hero, how selfless he is, and John’s blood boils.

Rod swings by John’s lab with his usual breezy demeanor.

“Hey Sheppard! Wanna grab some dinner?”

The incongruity of Rod in his doorway, smiling casually like this is just another Tuesday, sends something hot and sharp spiking through his brain. “No,” John snarls. “Busy.”

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

“Busy then too.”

Rod gives a self-deprecating little smile, and John wants to wipe it off his face. “Too busy to make an hour for your team?”

“A team?” he spits. “Is that what we are?”

Rod pales, finally taking in how furious John is. “Of course we are. I thought, since I’m back now, we could -”

“Oh, so you stride back in and decide to grace us with your presence, and we’re supposed to be thankful for that?”

“John, what -”

“You left!” he explodes. He’s shocked by his own vehemence. “You left us all. You weren’t planning to come back and you just left.”

Rod takes half a step forward, his face doing something complicated. “John, listen. I never wanted to-”

“Go fuck yourself!” He shoves at Rod’s shoulders, hard enough to keep him at a distance. He needs space; he needs quiet; this is all too much. “We don’t want you here anyway. You should have stayed in that other dimension. I’m sure it was great there.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up, McKay.” He tunes his voice to the iciest, most dismissive tone he has. “You should have stayed gone.”

He enjoys a mean spark of satisfaction at the way Rod’s face falls, then he storms out of the lab.

Fuck that guy anyway.

Everyone on the base keeps looking at John like he’s volatile, as if he’s about to blow at any minute. Even his team starts handling him with kid gloves, like he’s fragile, and he hates it so much he could scream.

He meticulously constructs the bubble of hostility which has long been his go-to when he needs people to leave him alone. He snaps and snarls, and perfects a glare so hostile that no one dares approach him.

It’s restrictive inside that bubble, but at least it’s stable. At least he gets to decide the reason why people are going to hate him.

A few days later, Teyla strides into his lab wearing her patented “take no shit” expression.

“John,” she says, and the false cheery brightness of her tone has him scared already. “You will join me for tea.”

This is not, he recognizes, a request. He begins to mumble excuses but she cuts him off without hesitation. “You will come to my quarters, and we will drink a mug of tea together.” She crosses her arms. “Now.”

There are battles you can win, and ones you cannot. This is most certainly the latter, so he meekly follows her as she sweeps out of the lab and back to her quarters.

Once inside, Teyla forces him into a chair with an excessively firm hand.

“Sit,” she orders.

It’s easier to do as she says.

She carefully prepares the tea and warms the earthenware mugs, strong hands making practiced, confident movements. John watches the motions as she pours the tea and slides a mug over to him.

“Drink,” she orders, and again it’s easier to obey.

The tea is soapy and bland, but he fears her retribution enough not to mention that. He sips as they sit in silence. She regards him heavily over her mug.

Eventually she reaches some kind of conclusion.

“You are a valued member of our team, John.” Her face is impassive but her words are warm. “We would not see harm come to you.”

“That’s. Uhh. Good.”

“But your behavior of late has been,” she narrows her eyes, “ill-advised.”

John opens his mouth to defend himself, because it’s not as if Teyla could understand what’s been going on. But she holds up a hand which stops him short.

“I do not care to listen to your justifications. But you should know that if you continue on the path you have been on, it will be to the detriment of us all.”

John feels like he’s been pulled into the principal’s office to be scolded like a schoolboy. He didn’t care for that shit when he was ten, and he certainly doesn’t care for it now.

“If that was all,” he pushes the mug away and gets to his feet, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait.” Teyla’s hand shoots out with a warrior’s accuracy and closes around his wrist. “I am concerned for the team, yes. But I am also concerned for you. I would like to think that we are…” she tilts her head, “friends. And I should like for you to be happy.”

John is embarrassed to find a lump forming in his throat. He’s never truly had a friend before, and that someone of Teyla’s stature and courage would consider him as such has him flabbergasted. He suddenly wants, very badly, for her to think well of him.

“I’ll try harder,” he says. “I’ll try to be better.”

She releases his wrist and gives him a generous smile.

“That is all any of us can do.”

He starts small.

He saves up a few of the precious Earth-imported cookies they get for dessert in the mess sometimes and brings them to the next Mensa club night. Kusanagi beams and says that was very thoughtful of him, and Parrish splits a chocolate chip cookie with him while they speed-solve sudokus.

The next day he types up a report about the team’s most recent mission with as much detail as he can remember, and he makes special note of how brave Rod and Teyla and Ronon were.

He saves it to a flash drive and takes it to Elizabeth himself.

“What’s this?” she asks as he hands it over.

“Mission report,” John says, eyes fixed on a tapestry hanging behind her desk.

“Submitting a report without having to be asked five times first? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Sheppard?”

Anger flashes for a moment, because he’s trying here and she doesn’t need to remind him of his past failings. But he looks down and sees she’s smiling. It’s a joke. She’s joking around with him.

Huh. Okay. That’s unfamiliar, but he doesn’t hate it.

“Maybe I’ve slipped in from an alternate dimension,” he says, and even though that’s not very funny Elizabeth laughs anyway, and that makes something glow inside him.

He grudgingly admits to himself that there does seem to be a pattern developing: when he makes an effort to connect with people here and, god help him, be nice to them, then they are happy and so is he. When he yells and pushes people away, they are sad and he is angry.

It’s sort of obvious, really, and he would be embarrassed that it’s taken him so long to figure that out, but humans are bizarre and complicated and not at all like numbers.

He has a hypothesis and now he needs to test it. He should try being more considerate to those closest to him and see if that improves everyone’s moods. If only he could figure out how to do that without the entire experience being mortifying.

He’ll work on Ronon first, he determines. Ronon has always looked out for him and they have a sort of unspoken bond. Finding something nice to do for him should be simple enough.

He decides on a data-driven approach. He takes to following Ronon around, looking for inspiration, trotting after him with a small notebook in hand to record his observations. Ronon finds the whole thing hilarious.

Ronon spends approximately 40% of his free time in the gym, which certainly is a lot, and a further 30% in the mess. Another 10% of the time he goes running around the city, and the remainder of his time is spent visiting with Teyla, stopping by the science labs to tease Rod, or visiting John.

“You like people,” John observes one day, when Ronon is warming up for a combat session with some of the marines. He’s added up the figures and plotted the data into neat hand-drawn scatter plots and histograms. “You spend almost all of your time around other people.”

Ronon’s lips tighten for a second, and then he relaxes. “Yeah, I do. For a long time it wasn’t safe for me to be around anyone, and I hated it.” He looks around the bustling gym and nods. “Now I don’t have to be alone any more. I’ll never fail to appreciate that.”

John squints and scribbles that down in his notebook too. “You like spending time with people even if they’re -” He glances over at the marines, loud and bossy and distastefully laddish, “- strange? Or mean?”

Ronon grins at him. “Even then, yeah.”

“But you go running on your own. Is that what you prefer?”

Ronon stiffens slightly. “No. It reminds me of running from the Wraith. But it’s important to stay fit, and no one here likes running with me.”

Ahah! The perfect opportunity. John bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“What, seriously?”

“Sure. It sounds fun.”

It is not fun. Running is brutal, and he is terrible at it, but Ronon smiles the whole time and he keeps telling John what a great job he’s doing.

By the time they’ve completed one lap of the route, sweat is pouring off John and his lungs are fit to burst.

“Go get some rest,” Ronon says, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “I’m going to do another couple of laps.”

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks between heaving breaths.

“You really want to do this again?”

“You run every day, right? So I will too.”

Ronon stops for a moment, then hauls John into a giant bear hug, apparently not caring that he’s sweaty and gross, and says, “Thanks, man.”

John is a little awed by how easily he expresses his approval, and how much it means to be on the receiving end of it.

He’s noticed on trade missions that the Athosians greatly value textiles, which they weave from plant fibers and dye bright colors. On his next trip to the mainland he slips away to ask the village elder Charin about the rugs which are spread throughout her tent.

She seems surprised by his interest but happy to show off her collection. She tells him how Athosians give rugs as gifts to celebrate relationships and achievements, and then she shows him how they're made.

He trades a whole month's worth of credits for supplies, and when he returns to Atlantis he spends hours each evening delicately weaving yarn through a wooden frame, building up a soft, textured rug. When it's done it's a little lumpy, but it has four clear bands of bright color running through it to represent their team.

He carries the rug to Teyla's quarters and fidgets outside her door.

"John." Teyla squints at him as she opens the door. "You appear nervous."

"I made this for you," he says and thrusts the rug at her. "Charin told me you're supposed to make them for family. This one has stripes for the four of us on the team. Sorry if it's not very good."

Tesla takes the rug and presses a hand to her chest as she examines it. A slow, warm smile spreads across her face.

"It is beautiful. You have my thanks, John. This means more to me than you know."

He has an uncomfortable flutter of emotion and he can't quite meet her eye. He focuses on the wall behind her instead.

"You are as family to me as well," she says, and steps forward to press their foreheads together in the Athosian way.

The frank sentimentality of her manner makes him squirm, but he sort of likes it.

Rod is trickier. He is not a person who cares much for stuff, and he always waves off supply runs from Earth, saying he has everything he needs.

But he has been complaining lately that the unstable nature of Lantea's sun has been interfering with some of his measurements. John has an idea that can help with that, even if it does involve working with grubby experimental data.

Once he's ready he invites Rod to join him in the control chair room.

"I did some modeling," he says quickly when Rod arrives. He doesn't bother with a greeting. "To predict solar influence on the Lantea system and help with your experimental readings."

Rod's eyes light up. "You modeled a star for me?"

"I thought it might be," he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to look too anxious about whether Rod will find it weird, "useful."

He plugs a flash drive into a socket on the chair platform and guides Rod into the chair.

"How does it work?" Rod is bouncing with excitement, the same look of delight on his face as when he finds a new piece of technology.

John indulges in a small, proud smile, and says, "Think about where we are in the solar system."

Rod leans back in the chair and its power hums on. Overhead, the holographic display bursts into life showing Lantea and its star, along with all the other planets and comets and asteroids filling the system, with notations on their size and mass and trajectory.

Rod whips the model around, running it backward and forward through time, watching the orbits of the planets dance.

Then Rod zooms in to see the sun up close and gasps. John has linked the model to the city's long range sensors so the display can simulate the star's fluctuations in real time, and as they watch its surface bubbles and releases a tendril of plasma which reaches out into space.

The display follows the plasma as it propagates out through the system, moving first through the asteroid field and then meeting the planet, interacting with the magnetosphere and lighting up the planet's atmosphere with an aurora of dancing colors.

The soft lights of the display are reflected in Rod's eyes, wide and joyful and curious, and the sight makes something like pain but not twist in John's chest.

"This is incredible." Rod pokes further through the interface, looking at zipping comets and distant moons. He sits up and the chair's power fades off. "Thank you."

Heat creeps across John's cheeks, and he busies himself unplugging the drive. "I wanted to do something… nice."

Rod stands and walks over to him, taking the drive from his fingers. But he doesn't let go, keeping hold of his hand. "This is very nice," he says, startlingly close.

And then something very strange happens, and Rod is leaning in and kissing him. John is distracted from the soft press of his lips by absolute bafflement at this turn of events and he freezes up.

Rod steps away and John stares at him, desperately trying to figure out how to respond. "You kissed me," he ends up on, which does have the merit of being true.

Rod rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I thought that's what you were going for. Was it not?"

John's brow wrinkles. His thoughts are whipping past at a million miles an hour.

That hadn't been his intention - he'd assumed that Rod was straight, not that he'd given it much thought - not that someone like Rod would be interested in him even if he wasn't - but there's something compelling about the concept, something intangible sitting on the edges of his perception. He can't quite see the shape of it.

"I need more data," he decides. "Kiss me again."

Rod breaks into a charmed smile. "I can do that."

This time when Rod leans in he's ready for it. Their mouths meet carefully, tentatively, and he angles his head so they line up better.

Oh. Interesting. The data is looking positive.

"Hmm." John draws back to breathe and consider. "Yes. That's good. Let's do that some more."

“An excellent plan," Rod says, putting his arms around John's waist to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Rod tastes incredible. Or maybe he just tastes of stale coffee and power bars, but John’s senses are so heightened that every sensation feels earth shattering, and he's starving for more. His hands scrabble at Rod’s collar, at his arms, at the hem of his shirt, trying to touch everything in a mad dash. He’s determined to get as much of whatever this is as he can before it comes to a crashing halt.

“Hey. Hey,” Rod’s hands are on top of his own, and he’s pulling away like John knew he would. John folds into himself, ready to turn his back as he listens to this is a mistake or we both know this isn’t going to work out or I’d never feel that way about you.

“If we’re going to do this…” Rod is giving him one of those lopsided smiles, soft and genuine. “I’d like to do it properly.”

John, still braced for rejection, has no idea what that means.

“Let me take you to bed,” Rod says, wobbly and uncertain and hopeful, of all things.

“Oh.” He could do that. They could do that. An ocean of unexpected possibilities opens up, glittering and unfamiliar and enticing. “Okay.”

Rod takes his hand and leads him back to his quarters. John’s palm is sweaty but his steps feel light as air.

Kissing Rod is excellent. Doing so while lying on Rod's bed is even better, and at some point they both lose their shirts and then there’s even more skin to explore and the comforting scent of Rod all around him.

It's what's next that's stressing him out, because while he's aware of the theoretical steps involved in sex, he doesn't exactly have practical experience to draw on.

There's the ever-present worry that he's missing something, that there's something he ought to know, like there's a handbook for this which everyone got a copy of except for him.

"You good?" Rod is looking at him with those very, very blue eyes. "You went away there for a minute."

His cheeks are blazing, but it seems important to set expectations. "I've never done this before," he admits.

"You mean with a man?"

He squirms. "With anyone."

He waits for Rod to laugh at him, but he merely looks contemplative. "Were you not interested, or…?"

"It never seemed that important, you know? Just another of those things that everyone else did except for me, like going to parties, or having friends, or spending Christmas with family."

Rod's face softens with sympathy.

"And even if I wanted to sometimes, it didn't matter, because who would want this?" He indicates himself with a disparaging hand. He knows what he looks like: too thin, too lanky, messy hair that will never keep a style. He's no one's ideal. "I'm not even sure why you’d be interested."

"God." Rod reaches for him and takes his face in his hands. "You really have no idea, do you?" Rod carefully removes his glasses, sets them aside, and says, "You're gorgeous," like he really means it.

Taking off his glasses makes John feel more vulnerable than taking off his clothes. Suddenly his shield is gone and there's the world, and Rod, and it's all very close and immediate and a little disorienting.

"Hey." Rod pets his face, soft and gentle, "It's okay. We can go slow."

He makes an effort to pull himself together. "I won't be very good at this."

"You don't have to be good." Rod traces his lips with a finger. "You just have to be you."

And that’s mystifying, frankly. But he’ll give it a go for Rod.

They kiss some more, and he relaxes into it, lets Rod take the lead, lets him explore his mouth until he’s boneless and breathless. He breaks for air and is lightheaded, the room almost spinning, but he wants more.

Then Rod is kissing along his jawline, and down his neck, and oh, when Rod’s lips brush against a spot near his throat his entire body tenses and twitches, and Rod makes a curious, happy noise and does it again. It’s a hair away from overwhelming but he likes it, he likes it a lot, and then Rod gently runs his teeth over that spot and John’s hips twitch off the bed entirely of their own volition.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, but Rod doesn’t look put off. In fact, he just grins, says, “Don’t be, I like it,” then pushes John back onto the bed and mouths at that spot some more.

His skin is hot all over and he’s shaking, and god, this is all going to be over embarrassingly fast and they haven’t even gotten all of their clothes off yet.

“Rod,” he says, and it comes out as a whine. “Will you -” He gestures vaguely at the bulge in the front of his jeans and hides his face in the pillow, too bashful to let Rod see him.

Rod pauses from his engrossment in John’s neck to breathe hot words into his ear instead. “Is that what you want?” he asks, and John is fit to burst already. How is Rod so good at this?

“Please,” he says, mumbling into the pillow. Everything is too much and not enough, and he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please, Rod, please -”

“Okay, of course I will, it’s okay.” Rod strokes his flank, petting him like a skittish horse, and that should be mortifying but it’s exactly what he needs. “I’d like to see you though,” he says, and reaches over to touch John’s chin.

John lets himself be turned, lets Rod roll him over so they’re facing each other and their eyes meet. That’s almost overwhelming too, but Rod looks so pleased he thinks he might be able to manage it, and then Rod is kissing him and unzipping his pants and oh, oh, oh.

Rod wraps a hand around his cock and John just melts, like every brain cell he possesses has decided to pack up for the night. He can't even bring himself to blush because Rod is touching him right there and it’s so good, it’s so good, and all he wants is more.

Rod handles him confidently, exploring what he likes: a bit faster, a bit slower, a bit more pressure, a bit less. If John could speak he’d tell him that it doesn’t matter, right now he likes everything, anything, whatever Rod wants to do to him he’d take it happily.

But Rod is a scientist, and he loves his data just as much as John does, so he does some experimentation and finds the ideal speed John likes, and the angle, and then he squeezes gently around the head and John’s orgasm explodes behind his eyes like bright, white light.

He floats for a while, like a spring that’s been twisted and twisted and finally bursts free, and he’s vaguely aware of Rod stroking his face. It’s nice, every muscle in his body slack and comfortable for once instead of clenched down tight.

“You good?” Rod asks, and John can’t help but smile.

“Very,” he mumbles, mouth lax and lazy.

Rod drops a kiss on his temple, and there’s something so casual and caring about that it makes John’s heart squeeze.

“You mind if I get myself off?” Rod asks and heat races up the back of John’s neck. He does not mind that one bit.

“Should I. Um.” He ought to offer, right? That was the polite thing. But, “I don’t really know what to do,” he admits.

Rod smiles softly at him and says, “How about you kiss me?”

And yes, John is definitely on board with that, he can do that. He puts an arm around Rod’s shoulders and pulls him closer, then kisses him: carefully at first, peppering soft pecks to his lips, and then deeper, lips sliding over each other as they grow more heated, and then finally wild and messy, slipping his tongue into Rod’s mouth while Rod pushes his pants down and works himself over.

He feels Rod’s fist bumping up against his thigh, faster and faster as he speeds up his hand, and John can’t help but glance down. He watches in fascination at the way the head of Rod’s cock peeks through his hand on each stroke, red and hard and leaking from the tip. Reflexively, he licks his lips.

Rod is making these soft groaning noises which have John entranced, like he wants to spend every spare minute he has learning how to coax them out of him. And then Rod is biting his lip, and twitching, and staring at him open-mouthed and breathing hard.

“Can I come on you?” he asks, and something in John’s brain short-circuits.

“Yes,” his mouth says for him. “Rod, god, yes.”

He can’t stop staring at the movement of Rod’s hand and, emboldened by a force he didn’t know he had in him, he reaches down to wrap his hand around Rod’s. He lets Rod guide their movements, adding a soft pressure from his fingers so they can bring him off together.

“John,” Rod sighs, full of warmth and contentment, and then he’s relaxing and coming. Fluid splatters across John’s thighs and he did that, he made Rod feel good, and that feels like the best gift of all.

Rod is soft around the edges now, smudgy like a charcoal painting, and when John asks, “Was that okay?” he pulls him closer and nuzzles into his neck, covering both of their bodies and their clothes hopelessly in come, and says, “That was perfect.”

John wakes up sticky, rather too hot, and filled with a roiling, anxious feeling. The bed is too small and Rod is too close, and his heart rate picks up as he looks fuzzily around the room.

He should go. He should just go, right now, before Rod wakes up and they have to talk about this and he says something wrong and ruins everything.

He’s squinting and patting at the bedside table, looking for his glasses, when he feels movement behind him.

“Morning.” Rod drops a soft kiss on his shoulder. Then he rolls over, John’s glasses in his hand, and opens them up and pops them onto his face. He slides them up John’s nose, smiles, and says, “There you are.”

And oh. All that panic seems further away once he has the armor of his glasses back, and now he can see the pillow crinkles imprinted into Rod’s cheek. He seems less like an agent of impending judgement and more like Rod, just Rod, Rod who knows him and has seen him at his worst and still, for whatever baffling reason, seems to like him.

“Hi,” he manages, and Rod beams like that was exactly the right thing to say.

“Coffee?” Rod offers. “Or shower first?”

As rare as it is for John to turn down coffee, he really is unpleasantly sticky. Deal with that problem first, he decides. “Shower,” he says, grateful that he’s not required to string together more than single words.

“Sure.” Rod gives his ass a cheeky pat as he rises, then throws him a towel.

He showers quickly and efficiently, but as he steps out and wraps a towel around himself he spots a purpling bruise on the side of his neck in the mirror. He stops to trace it with his fingers, remembering the feeling of Rod’s mouth there, hot and demanding.

“Ahh.” Rod stands in the doorway to the bathroom. “Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away.” There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he looks nervous.

John tilts his head, looks at the mark from another angle. There it is: incontrovertible evidence that he's wanted. What a fascinating concept. “Don’t be. I like it.”

“Oh.” Rod’s eyes go very round and the blush deepens. “That’s good. That’s. Ahh. Very good. I’ll just -”

Rod drops the towel from around his waist and makes for the shower, and John gets an eyeful of his half-hard cock, and then, as he walks past, an ass he has the sudden urge to sink his fingers into. A heat that’s beginning to feel familiar creeps up his neck, and he wants -

What the hell, he thinks, and he tosses his own towel aside to follow Rod back into the shower, delighting in his yelp of surprise when he slides up behind him.

“Shep! Think fast!”

John manages to get his hands up just in time to prevent the power bar from hitting him in the face.

“Thought you might want a snack before the mission,” Ronon says with a wink. “Just in case we have to run anywhere.”

“Hey, I’m getting better at that! I’ll catch up with you one day.”

“Sure you will.” Ronon checks the straps on John's tac vest like he always does, then says, "Looking good, buddy," and ruffles his hair.

John used to hate that, but he's given up trying to tame his hair and now he lets it stick up in whatever direction it wants. It's weird but it works.

Teyla bumps her shoulder against his as they walk toward the gate room. "What do you have for us today, John?"

“Remember that strange energy signal Major Lorne’s team picked up last week? I was able to map its topography through space and pinpoint its likely origin, and Rod took a look at the electromagnetic readings and he thinks it might be a power source -”

“So we are going to investigate the signal on P2X-884?”

“Bingo.”

Rod is standing in front of the gate like he belongs there. He claps his hands. "Ready for another thrilling adventure in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Maybe we'll get to hunt some Wraith," Ronon says, entirely too cheerfully.

"Or discover some hideous alien parasite," Teyla joins in with a gruesome smirk.

"Or accidentally blow something up," John supplies, because that's usually how their luck goes.

"Sounds delightful." Rod grins and yells up to the gate techs, "Dial her up."

As the gate engages with a whoosh and a glow of blue light, Rod reaches out to graze his fingers against John's: a reminder, and a promise. Out of the corner of his eye, John catches his smile.

He stands a little taller, knowing his team has his back, and steps through the wormhole.

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #i will NOT shut up about mensa!john i LOVE him

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xiaowhore · 2 years

Note

this is super random, but i noticed your pinned post is almost a year old,, im not really sure when exactly you’ve started your writing blog, but i presume it should be around this given timeframe so,, *deep breaths* here it goes

hi mao :> i think we’ve known each other for around 4 months now? lmao its funny how i still remember the first time i reached out to you, asking for advice on how to write better while i was a beginner,, during that period, i’ve never actually talked to anyone on tumblr, but i sincerely admired the way you wrote and i saw you as this really amazing person,, so i kind of thought, fuck it, i’ll just send her an ask and tell her how much i like it *cries in nonexistent social skills*

i don’t know when it started, but i think the more i sent mails, whether to ask you something or just randomly gush about shit, i just naturally looked forward to your responses because it was so nice to finally talk to someone on this app — and then i slowly began to realize that you weren’t just this great writer or artist who had a fucking fantastic way with words…you were just a person like everyone else. an equal with me, yet an undeniably nice one at that.

i seriously consider you as a great friend! we don’t always talk much and usually only communicate through asks, but it’s already enough for me to know that you’re doing okay \^.^/ you’ve been nothing but kind since we first talked, and maybe you think it’s only natural to be so, but it genuinely means a lot to me (and im certain others feel the same way about it too)!

to me, you have always been a generally cool and interesting person to associate with, and im super grateful to have met you :)) it hasn’t been long, but talking with you for me has been a fun experience! although it’s only virtual, and at the end of the day not everyone really knows each other irl — i hope you still realize how much we all truly appreciate you, even if you don’t always hear it enough <3

you’re a great person mao, really! i sincerely wish nothing but the best for you, and even better things to come :)) and if you’re comfortable with it, i hope we can also become closer friends too >.< *cries in nonexistent social skills pt. 2*

anyway, that’s all hehe *dies inside why am i so bad at this* hhh im really sorry for clogging up the inbox and the message becoming so lengthy T_T but again, happy one year bestie! here’s to the wonderful days and memories you’ve made, including so much more for you to come <33

damn it zaly you're too sweet oh my god you're killing me

i... know that im quiet, not the kind of mutual that can pop up in your inbox regularly, so im honestly......... really touched that you think of me as a friend.... even though im like this... i feel guilty every time someone tries to reach out to me and i cant do the same for them, way too inactive on social media cuz im preoccupied with other things, so messages like these really..... hh

i dont know if you actually know how much i appreciate you just occasionally sending asks??? asking how im doing?? you're too nice for me i swear. (also i find it funny you asked me for advice even though i think your writing's so much better and magical- i followed you the instant i sped through your blog haha)

i love seeing your posts on my dashboard on the times i log in!! i always read them, whether it be fics or snippets of your daily life, and im... embarrassingly... too shy to even send a simple "i hope you have a good day" or "good luck in your test" or "omg this fic you posted was fantastic!!" though i do hope you're doing well...

aaaa what is this ramble

nevertheless- i'm truly lucky to have met someone as kind and amazing as you... it means a lot to me that you send messages like this. it was such a surprise to see this in my inbox!! which makes me feel more horrible i didn't answer sooner oh my god i am so sorry

it's been one year for me yet i didn't think anyone would notice...... but from here on out, i hope we talk more bestie :)) i'd love to be closer friends!!!!

#mail — !#FUCK i am so awkward but #pls know im very grateful #sorry im just so- *struggling*#*sends finger hearts to hopefully convey what im feeling*

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stonecoldhedwig · 3 years

Text

I’m still in a WhatsApp group with all the people I used to work with at my hot trash job. Today has truly been a day to be grateful.

I was a digital strategist in the third sector before I gave up my job to write full time. My Big Boomer boss hired someone to replace me who *can’t use Microsoft Word*.

It’s a rollout day for one of their new programmes. Big deal. Generally brings in a lot of money from important donors. I think I spent more time teaching my replacement how to do this than anything else because I had digital programme launches down to an art.

The Boomersaurus Rex hired to replace me has fucked up the delivery strategy so the programme launch has come from her personal account, is going to everyone’s junk inbox, and has thus far been sent out nine consecutive times. The WhatsApp group is a-flurry with messages about how everything has gone wrong.

I got a text this morning from the Boomersaurus that simply said “I cannot send?”. Send what.

This is obviously amusing for me, but it highlights something about the third sector that pisses me off. It never, ever uses the skills, knowledge and diverse experiences of younger people that could genuinely make a difference.

The international third sector is generally no longer about sending neatly-turned-out white kids “overseas” to find themselves and occasionally build schools. Thank God. Despite popular conceptions, it’s not full of altruistic angels looking to change the world, either; it’s instead full of people who—for the most part—do want to do good but are also flawed and desperately human.

There is, however, a major stumbling block to genuine progress all the same, and it’s exactly the people you’d expect it to be: white boomer men.

I’m the youngest year of the millennial generation. Most of my friends are involved in either public sector or third sector work. Most of us are paid like shit, and work for boomers who don’t know TikTok from Twitter. My best friend works for an organisation that defends journalistic freedom around the world, and her (male) boss is incredibly proud of being a second-wave feminist who once read Simone de Beauvoir, and likes to chime in with suitably outdated opinions on gender with typical White Man enthusiasm. Great. Only, it’s 2020 and we’re now on fourth-wave feminism. How can his organisation defend the journalistic freedom of trans, enby, gender fluid people when his mindset is firmly rooted in the 1970s?

My former boss used ethnic slurs about various peoples from the part of the Middle East we worked in. We provided healthcare. Imagine the impact it has on a population when the person who heads up your healthcare provider is a racist. (I obviously reported this to the chairman before I left, and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me in terms of having to resign. In good conscience, I couldn’t stay). That doesn’t even touch on his deep and rich misogyny.

These are obviously much more extreme examples than simply not knowing how to use Word. But the fucking up Word is important. It highlights the fact that the third sector is steeped in capitalism—the kind of capitalism that values longevity more than anything else. The boomer who was hired after me? She was hired because she’d been in the sector for a long time and my Big Boomer boss respected that. It’s capitalism in action: how much production can we squeeze out of you until you expire? It is quantity over quality every time because that’s what late stage capitalism does.

There’s a really simple remedy to this: bring in young people. More than that, bring in a diverse range of young people. Young people of colour, young people with a range of gender identities and sexualities, religions and heritages. Organisations don’t need these young people to have degrees in digital marketing or seven hundred years experience of sending Tweets. We’re the fucking internet generation. Choose the quality of a more meaningful, more nuanced CV than a boomer with 20 years in the same role who, sure, has lasted long, but doesn’t really have much to show for it.

When charities or third sector organisations contact you asking for support (and let’s face it, that’s predominantly financial), ask them the age breakdown of their staff. Ask them their hierarchical structure within their offices. Ask them the demographics of their staff, and ask them how they’re pursuing a more diverse and representative workforce.

Part of believing in radical economic restructuring for me is knowing that the need for charity constitutes a moral failing on our part, collectively. Our economic structures should (and can!!) be reformed so that charity is a thing of the past. Part of the work of moving to a regenerative economy that removes the need for charity is by using charities as a proving ground. What this means is holding “the best of us” to account. It means ensuring that the most vulnerable of society are served by people who look like them, and who are committed to a society that includes them. The best charities ultimately want to be redundant.

So, just as you do for politicians, hold the third sector to account. It’s uncomfortable. No one wants to be the dick that questions the lovely people at a charity. But no third sector organisation is immune to its context, and the damaging attitudes and prevailing cultural norms that we see in the rest of life exists there too. Radical economics demands this of us.

#stonecoldhedwig #hedwig talks #charity #third sector #politics #fuck apparently I needed to get this off my chest #feminism #radicalism #radical economics

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queenof-literature · 3 years

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Hero of Wild - Chapter 6

I’m sorry about the delay… again… life really does get in the way sometimes doesn’t it? Anyway, I’m kinda planning my timelines/series as I go along, so if things don’t correlate I will try to fix them later. There’s also been some confusion about my story timelines and why Wild can talk in some stories and not in others. Sorry for the confusion! In my stories if WIld can talk then it takes place after this series which is a work in progress. For any questions to the order of my stories, please visit my Masterlist on my Tumblr, @queenof-literature. Thank you as always for the insane amount of support. Love you all and hope you’re doing well!

**This fic portrays Selective Mutism and trouble with speech how I and my peers have experienced it**

TW: Taunting/Bullying (No slurs), Minor Panic Attack

Wild was still a mystery. It had been more than a week since Wild had joined their little crew. Sky and everyone else thought they were done receiving heroes, but Hylia still had surprises for them it seemed. Oh well, Hylia did what she thought was best, and Wild was a good person to have around. After the first time they saw him fight that Lynel, no one could deny that. Yet Sky couldn’t help but wonder why Hylia waited so long. Why make Wild more of an outsider than necessary by waiting more than two months to introduce him? Sky knew he would probably never know the answer, Hylia did what she needed to, but it was still something he questioned. They were back in Wild’s Hyrule once again, even though they were just here a week ago. After Wild’s Hyrule the first time, they went to Sky’s, then a random one, then back to Wild’s again for seemingly no reason. Sky hadn’t even gotten to see Zelda before he left his own Hyrule… it was just frustrating. But Sky tried not to let it show, getting mad wouldn’t help anyone. Sky looked back at Wild, who was doing his best to keep his distance from the group. Well as much as he could, Warriors and Twilight seemed to be worried that him and Hyrule would wander off again to ‘shield surf’.

“Hey Wild?” Sky called out lowly. Wild looked up, eyes full of question and apprehension. He didn’t seem to be in a talk- signing mood today. “Are we still going down the right path?” The Links were currently traveling through a small patch of trees after what Wild had called Proxim Bridge, heading straight towards what seemed to be two large mountains, or one that was split right down the middle. Wild nodded, lifting his hands to sign.

‘The path is straight through the mountains to the stable.’ Sky remembered Wild telling Time there was a stable after the mountain, but it was unusual for Wild to direct them down a large path. Even knowing him for a little over a week, Sky knew that Wild absolutely hated traveling main roads on foot.

“Okay, thanks Wild.” Sky smiled back at him. Wild had seemed to come out of his head slightly, awkwardly coming up to walk a shorter distance from Sky. The older assumed it was in case anyone else had questions. He didn’t mean to make Wild uncomfortable, he just wanted to be sure they weren’t lost. Wild glanced at him, as if expecting him to make small talk the boy obviously wasn’t comfortable at the moment. “We don’t have to talk, we can just walk.” Sky offered, low enough so only Wild could hear him. The other boy simply nodded, though Sky could see the grateful look in his eyes.

The group walked in, a mix of lulled conversation and comfortable silence sweeped over them, and it was moments like these that Sky could simply appreciate his surroundings. As they approached the looming cliffs, Sky couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of it all. Wild’s Hyrule was savage and massive and overwhelming, but it was also beautiful. The tall rocky walls reflected the bright afternoon sun, the rocks a deep navy blue instead of ominous gray.

Sky felt a small tap on his shoulder and looked towards his companion.

“Yes, Wild?” Sky questioned softly, doing his best to not draw attention to them.

‘There’s some monster camps between the cliffs. They usually leave people alone but we need to stay on the path.’ Wild signed to Sky. Even after that small of a conversation, Wild seemed to slump down a little further. It was almost unnoticeable, but Sky was always good at reading people. Wild said the stable was almost directly after the end of the mountain path, so hopefully he would be able to run off and recharge while the rest of the group stayed at the stable for the night.

“Guys.” Sky called out, gathering the other’s attention. “Wild says that there’s monster camps coming up, but we should be ignored if we stay on the path.” Wild looked slightly flustered that Sky had spoken up for him, but he sent a grateful nod in the older’s direction.

“When isn’t there a horde of monsters in this Hyrule.” Legend grumbled. No one could really tell if he truly hated Wild’s Hyrule or if he was just being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with him sometimes.

“Thanks for the heads up, Wild.” Time interrupted, nodding his thanks to Sky for relaying the message.

The group continued on along the river, looking up in wonder when they finally entered the enclosed path.

“Is that a shrine up there, Wild?” Wind pointed widely to the blue glow in the distance. The rest of the group turned their attention on Wild, who squirmed slightly under their gaze.

‘Yes. One here, two on top.’ Wild signed quickly to get their attention somewhere else. Sky wanted to ask about their challenges, since Wild’s trials really interested all of them, but thought better of it when he remembered how uncomfortable Wild seemed in their large group today.

“We sure we should just leave those camps there?” Legend asked, glancing between the screaming Bokoblins and the Lizalfos swimming in the rushing river.

“If you want to fight them all, be my guest.” Warriors snarked.

“Wild said it’s fine.” Time gruffed, halting that argument before it started. As much as Time wanted to kill any monsters possible to avoid future incidents, in Wild’s land they just seemed to keep coming. Plus the boys were all weary. Even Legend seemed to dread the very idea he brought up.

Wild felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. If they got attacked after Wild explicitly that it would probably be safe, then would they ever trust Wild again? Even if they did, Wild would never forgive himself…

“Is that the stable ahead?” Hyrule asked, glancing at the rustic horse head in the distance. Wild nodded a little dumbly, not noticing how far they had made it.

“Yes!” Wind yelled, and the group sped up with newfound energy. Stops on their journey were always a relief, no matter how brief they were.

After the group finally emerged from the cliffs above, the stable was in plain sight. The group crossed a flat rickety bridge. It reminded Twilight of the bridges the other children in Ordon would claim had trolls beneath. Wild called it Big Twin Bridge, although it certainly wasn’t big compared to some of the bridges the other Links had seen.

As they approached the group felt the same warm aura that Wild’s stables seemed to radiate. The first thing Twilight noticed was the pen of animals every stable seemed to have.

“Are those goats?” Twilight asked Wild, thinking back to the apparent sheep the last stable had. Wild nodded with a small smirk, already knowing Twilight well enough to know the older would go greet the goats when there was time. There were few people at the stable besides the group of nine, but that seemed to be normal for Wild’s Hyrule. Once again, they saw a scrawny young man carrying a beetle shaped bag three times his size.

“Is he everywhere?” Legend whispered incredulously to Warriors.

‘Beetle.’ Wild finger spelled to them.

“Is that his name?” Warriors laughed, only laughing harder when Wild nodded.

“Wild? Are you coming inside?” Four asked, nodding his head to the other Links filing inside the stable to relax around the small table within. Wild shook his head and gestured vaguely to the fire pot.

“But… Dinner isn’t until a lot later?” Four’s brow furrowed, looking towards the sun in the middle of the sky.

‘Has to simmer.’ Wild signed fingerspelling the last word Four didn’t recognize, and Four mentally shelved the word for ‘simmer’ he just learned.

“Okay… but will you come inside after it starts to simmer?” Four questioned, genuinely confused as to why Wild seemed hesitant about going inside. Wild bit his lip then nodded slowly. “Wild… you know that you can do what you need to do in your Hyrule? If you have someone you need to see or something, just let Time or Warriors know. We’ve all had to take care of business in our Hyrule.” Four assured. He couldn’t tell for sure why Wild seemed quiet. Well… more than usual. It didn’t just seem like a bad day like when he and Hyrule went shield surfing, it felt like far more than that. He thought back to his conversation with Hyrule. Perhaps Wild had something to do, but he was too scared to say anything. It was worth a shot. To his dismay, Wild simply smiled a little and nodded. So that wasn’t it, it seemed.

“Let me know if you need any help.” Four finished, shoving down his disappointment. Hopefully Wild would be able to let someone know if he got too bad… as slim of a chance as it was. Wild signed a quick thank you before heading to the cooking pot.

Hylia, he hoped they weren’t here, but he knew they would be. The ‘Treasure Hunting Bros’, still looking for treasure Link had found in under an hour. Link had made the grave mistake of trying to tell them that he had already found it. They gave him the riddle, teasing him, not expecting him to really find it. Even if their arrogance was infuriating, he didn’t want them to spend months, if not years, wasting their time for treasure that wouldn’t even be there if they found it. When he attempted to sign, they rudely waved him off. He hadn’t tried to talk that much to others verbally since he left the shrine. The times he did it didn’t go… well… but he could feel the words on his tongue if he could just push them out, he’d be fine! He tried to approach them, tried to warn them.

“I…” The first word tumbled out of his mouth, hot streaks of pain clawed up this throat. “I… f-foun… I foun-” Link felt frustration and fear only closing his throat more. Why was this so hard? He could feel the words, he could feel his mouth form to say them, why couldn’t he just get them out?

“Uhh, are you okay?” Prissen, the one on the right asked with a laugh.

“Tre-rea-” Link’s words bubbled in the back of his throat only to slur and stutter and eventually die before they even had a chance to leave.

“You sound like a demented toddler, man. Have some water or something.” Prissen giggled out, and Wild felt his throat flame up even more. Somehow the white hot pain was still so cold.

“I don’t have time for this.” Dak snapped. “Either say whatever you’re babbling about or leave.”

So Wild left.

Sky didn’t know whether or not he should be worried about Wild. The boy was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual. The newest Link reminded Sky so much of himself it actually hurt some days. Sky had his bad days, but it was better now.

Wild however, he never spoke a single word. No one could touch him without him panicking and reaching for his sword. The group didn’t want to approach him like a spooked animal, but no one was quite sure what to do. Wild didn’t need to talk, or accept hugs and pats on the back to be truly a part of the group. They would accept their Brother of Courage no matter what, but Sky truly was worried there was something deeper going on. Something the Hero of Sky couldn’t fix.

Looking at the boy sitting by the fire outside the stable, Sky felt more lost than he had in a long time. Sky’s eye twitched as once again the two men conversing in the stable got too loud. Their constant whispering and occasional yell was even getting Sky slightly irritated, but there was nothing to do, they were in a public place.

“It’s him.” The one in blue snickered, now that he was paying attention Sky realized that their ‘whispers’ weren’t even secretive at all. Sky wondered who they were even talking about. It seems the one in red had the same question.

“Who?” The one in red snapped irritably.

“That one!” To Sky’s confusion and worry, he not-so-discreetly pointed directly at Wild outside. The entire group subtly perked up at the mention of their new member. Some in the group were used to praise and whispers, however, this didn’t sound like praise.

“Is that the one that you said sounded and I quote ‘like a demented toddler’.” The one in red asked in a deadpan voice, much to the group's shock. Did that mean what Sky thought it meant? He heard shuffling and expected Warriors to be holding Legend back, he did not expect to turn and see it was the other way around.

“Just wait a second you idiot.” Legend snapped in a low whisper. “We need more information first.” Warriors took a deep breath and sagged slightly. Legend was right, not that he would ever admit it.

“That’s the one!” The one in blue laughed heartily, and Sky felt a rock in his stomach.

“I don’t have time for you to antagonize an imbecile that can’t even talk back.” The one in red warned, and Sky felt his worry turn to anger.

“He was the one that came up to us last time! Not my fault he couldn’t even get a thought out! Tr-tre-” The one in blue mimicked. Sky felt his ears heating up in anger on behalf of their friend that was clearly being insulted. Glancing over, it seemed not even Time knew if he should speak up or keep quiet. They all seemed to have one thought running through their head: Maybe if they didn’t cause a commotion, Wild wouldn’t notice. But these two certainly weren’t quiet about their hatred towards their new friend.

“You talking about Link?” Four piped up, masking the deadly look on his face. The two patrons in front of them either didn’t notice the glares of the other Links, or they were too stupid to care.

“That the one cooking out there?” The one in blue asked, smiling arrogantly at the boy outside.

“Yup.” Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.

“Then yeah. That’s the one.” The blue on, Sky had given up on learning his name, smirked. “Dumbass kept interrupting us, stuttering and slurring. Hell, I would have felt bad for the guy if he wasn’t so annoying. There’s obviously something wrong with him.” The loud one luaghed, finding the situation far funnier than eight furious Heroes of Courage.

“That’s it-” Wind growled before lunging forward, letting out a loud ‘oof’ when his middle was caught by Time.

“If I were you, I’d keep your mouth shut.” Time leveled the man with a glare.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with that fre-”, Sky couldn’t tell which glare was more terrifying, Time’s, or Wind’s.

“I suggest we make a deal.” Warriors’ stone cold voice spoke up. Even the one in red shot out of his thoughts for a moment. “You two stay on the other side of the stable from us, and keep your mouths shut, and we might just do the same.”

“I suggest you take that deal.” Legend spoke up, icy blue eyes trained on the two men before them. Sky could see the man’s gears turning, the one in blue glanced at the one in red, who was masking his fear far better.

“Fine.” The man in blue spit out, following his brother to the corner of the stable with his tail between his legs, not deeming the fight worth it.

“Where’s Wild?” Twilight questioned. Sky’s gaze snapped over the place where Wild sat, finding it vacant. Before Twilight could move Sky was getting out of his seat, his chair screeching against the wood floor.

“I’ll talk to him.” Was Sky’s only declaration before he was outside. He knew where this would lead, and he wasn’t going to let Wild suffer alone.

Wild tugged his hood further up, as if that could make all the bad thoughts disappear. They knew now. They knew. Of course Wild knew they would find out eventually. They surely had their doubts about Wild’s lack of speech with the scars on his neck, but Wild wanted it to be on his terms. Not some random assholes in a stable! Wild forced himself to take a deep breath from where he sat on a log that was covered in overgrown moss. He had fled to one of the nearby patches of trees after the conversation that no one even bothered to hide. Four had asked if they were talking about Link. They knew it was him, and they asked to make sure. Would they think he could talk and just… didn’t? Now that they knew would their disappointment in him begin? They had been so nice, too nice. On the other hand, that’s what Wild thought before they made name signs. For him. They made name signs specifically to make it easier on Wild. Deep down he knew the others wouldn’t be so shallow to discard him for this, but it made battles dangerous. If he saw a monster all he could do is let out a pathetic croak as one of his teammates went down. It made conversations around the fire harder too. They were nice enough to try and include Wild, but it sometimes died off when they gave him room to sign. They were trying, and Wild was trying so hard but it’s not enough-

“Wild?” He heard a calm voice call out through the woods. That was Sky. Wild mentally smacked himself. He just left them! No note, no dinner instructions, he just ran away again. Self loathing wasn’t worth it, it never had been, so why did he always run? Maybe he should make some sort of noise to let Sky know where he was, but Wild didn’t even have the energy to do that, as selfish as it was. He just hoped his cloak would stand out against the trees and moss so Sky wouldn’t be searching for long. A few minutes later his hope came true.

“Wild?” A gentle voice asked behind him. Wild didn’t respond, of course he didn’t. He heard footsteps approaching and he pushed down his panic, it was an ally, not an enemy. Wild wanted to look up, but some of him was too ashamed to do so.

“Wild? Can I sit down?” Sky said when he was finally next to the log. Wild liked Sky, he seemed kind and always asked him things. Questions, opinions, permission to do something like sit down next to him or put his bedroll near his, it made Wild feel a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. Or perhaps a certain kind of warmth he had never truly felt before. Wild simply nodded, not ready to come out of his curled position under his cloak.

“I just came to check on you.” Sky spoke as he sat down on the other side of the log, giving Wild the space the boy needed to think through everything. “What they said… it wasn’t okay Wild. Far beyond okay, it was disgusting.” Wild peered up in surprise at the venom in the other’s voice. Sky took a deep breath and continued. “Wild… can I ask you something? If that oversteps just tell me and I’ll stop or leave you alone.” Sky reassured. Wild thought for a moment. Sky wouldn’t push him, Wild could refuse to answer and the other hero wouldn’t push at all. That was just the type of man Sky was. Wild nodded once again.

“Wild… Can you talk?” Sky asked. It was just a question, just a simple yes or no should have been okay, but instead a rush of ice invaded Wild’s body. Without thinking he lifted his hands into his hair, clutching near the scalp like a lifeline. There it was. He was a damned coward, not even being upfront about why he didn’t talk to the other Links. Wild forced himself to nod his head.

“Does it… Does it hurt you?” Sky asked hesitantly. Wild nodded again, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Wild. I know it doesn’t help but I’m sorry. I know how frustrating it is.” Wild once again glanced up in shock. He what? “Yeah.” Sky rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking was hard for me when I was younger. I was left at the Knight’s Academy in Skyloft, my home, when I was a baby.” Sky began, looking over to see curious eyes peering from under Wild’s cloak.

“I was quiet, and even when I talked I barely said anything. It took the teachers a while to figure out that sometimes I just couldn’t get the words out. I don’t know, they just couldn’t make it past my thoughts sometimes. The other kids called me stupid or said my head was in the clouds, but Zelda spoke for me on those days and I appreciated it. It never felt like she was babying me, she just always understood what I wanted to say. I’ve gotten better at getting the words out, but it’s still hard sometimes. The other Links understand, Wild. I know our situations are different, but we’re here for you. I’m here for you.” Sky finished. His final statement said as if it were a fact Hylia herself could not dispute. There was no doubt or uncertainty. ‘We’re here for you. I’m here for you.’ The words echoed in Wild’s head. Wild had thought himself weak, but Sky wasn’t weak. Sky was one of the strongest people he’s ever met and he’d only known the man for over a week. Wild’s hands released his hair slowly, coming to rest in his lap before he raised them.

‘I feel the same. I don’t even know if it’s my scars or if it was always like that.’ Wild panicked at the mention of what was before the Shrine of Resurrection, but Sky didn’t question him. ‘But the words don’t come. I can feel them, I can think them, but they don’t come out!’ Wild finished angrily, his hands flinging to his lap once more.

“It’s frustrating.” Sky stated. It wasn’t a question, nor was it pity, it was a fact they both knew. “If you want, we can work on it.” Sky offered, smiling slightly at the pure shock on WIld’s face.

“Don’t get me wrong, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Sky assured. “But Zelda and I practiced talking over the years and it helped me. Me, or any of the other Links are willing to help, Wild. It’s an option. Otherwise, none of us mind that you sign. We all have things to work around, it comes with a team.” Wild didn’t even know how to respond. Help him? Team? Those were all new to him.

‘Can I…’ Wild trailed off for a moment. Did he want that? Wild couldn’t even really imagine himself talking. What did he sound like without the claws in his throat? Perhaps Wild wanted to find out.

‘Can I think about it?’ Wild asked, forcing his hands to steady, meeting Sky’s eyes. Eyes that held no judgement or malice, just understanding.

“Of course you can!” Sky assured brightly. “Just let me know if you ever want that, or if you just never want to speak of this again. It’s completely up to you Wild.” It was up to him, not Hylia, or the King, or a destiny he never wanted, it was Wild’s choice. That felt nice.

‘Thank you.’ Wild signed simply, and they both felt the emotion behind it. A few quiet moments passed before Sky spoke up again.

“Do you want to go back?” Sky asked. Wild bit his lip.

‘I don’t want to face them.’ Wild signed honestly.

“I’m sure the others have made sure you won’t have to deal with those idiots anymore.” Sky thought back to Wind snarling.

‘Not them. The others.’ Wild corrected before turning away. Coming back to an entire group after running away in shame sent cold waves of panic through Wild.

“Oh… Yeah it’s scary, but after the amount of times Legend has left huffing and cursing I think you’ll be okay.” Sky laughed, feeling ten pounds lighter when he saw Wild’s shoulders shake a little with silent laughter. Wild finally stood slowly, followed by Sky. They began the short trek back to the stable, but one more question still plagued WIld’s mind no matter how much he tried to get rid of it. Wild snapped his fingers to get Sky’s attention.

“Hm?” Sky questioned from his place beside Wild.

‘Why help me? You don’t know me.’ Wild questioned shyly.

“What do you mean? You’re a Hero of Courage.” Wild winced at that.

‘You don’t know me.’ Wild emphasized. ‘Not well.’ Sky seemed to think for a moment.

“That’s true.” Sky confirmed. “But one day or two months, you’re one of us. We’re a group of nine now and it wouldn’t be nine without you.” Sky stated simply, waving at the distant group waiting for them at the stable.

A group of nine. Wild could live with that.

On this episode of: I Think I’m funny. “Four confirmed in a clipped tone. Sky admired him trying to scope out the situation, but it was obvious the hero’s patience was running short.” Cuz Four… short… anyway.

I love Wind so much. He is ready to fight entire armies of Ganon himself to protect his siblings old or new he will square up.

Also does this mirror my other fic “The Tavern”? Perhaps ;)

Hope you guys enjoyed!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #link #loz #legend of zelda #wild #sky #twilight #time #four #Warriors #legend #hyrule #wind #hero of wild #queenof-literature story #QoL Story

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sukirichi · 3 years

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— LOVE LETTER FROM ANON ; 💌

this is from an ask i received. i copy pasted and replied here as a text post since i can’t put “read more” on anon asks and it’s quite long hehehe. to the anon who sent me this, i give you loads of my love, thank you so much for everything !!

[ the ask ]

hi lovely,

i just read earned it and i have a couple things i’d like to say to you if you don’t mind. before i start, i completely understand if you don’t want to share this ask or even read at all which is fair. but if you do decide to read it, i know that one person such as me cannot change the decisions a writer had made such as discontinuing a series but i hope that this allows you some sense of peace or happiness towards your creation and end of earned it. i’m actually writing this is my notes before i send it to you so that’s how you know i truly mean it. buckle up baby!

i’d like to start with this; i just read and finished all the remaining chapters of earned it. i don’t know how to say this without sounding arrogant or cocky which truly isn’t my intention here, i promise so i’ll just say it as is. i swear to ever loving god, i’ve scoured the entirety of tumblr, ao3, fanfiction.net, wattpad, everything and anything, and it still isn’t very often that i find works like these, far and few between dare i say. ive looked through almost everything i could get my hands on to read in the jjk fandom and dear god, do you manage to keep on surprising me. i’ve read majority if not all your works along with following you on ao3 and tumblr, and i must say. i truly am so fucking impressed. completely and absolutely fucking floored if you will. the amount of plot twists and pure emotion you managed to put into this is only something i can dream of ever creating.

i cannot lie, it truly my hearts to think that people gave you so much shit over this to which ended in you deciding to discontinue along with your lack of interest which at least, is understandable unlike the hate. i literally cannot comprehend how people would be unhappy with the outcome so far after reading it since it was beyond fucking magnificent in my eyes. it kept me on my toes the entire time whilst never managing to bore me once and as someone with adhd, thats fucking hard to do, i’ll admit it. props to you. and as much as i want to grovel and beg for crumbs, something, anything to know about how it ends, i know that that will most likely accomplish nothing to both you and i so decided to just say this.

thank you for writing this. thank you for not only writing it but dealing with the experience of unwanted and negative criticism to the point you had to stop and discontinue it whilst also being generous and amazing enough to keep it up so other people could still read it. i really hope your proud of earned it and how it turned out so far, because if i were you, i’d be so bloody fucking proud i wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

my friends often tell me i overstep my boundaries and i really hope i aren’t doing that with this but i just really, truly, wanted to express my genuine appreciation and thanks towards your writing and towards you as a writer that puts out content, not to mention for free!!!!, for people like me. i also don’t want to seem as if i’m glorifying earned above all your other works, because that’s not what i mean. your writing is just… just fucking chefs kiss. sorry, my brains starting to run out of words at this point but oh my god. thank you for letting me experience the experience of earned it even though there was no proper end. i’d rather have that than nothing at all. and maybe i misread this entire thing, maybe you are goddamn proud of your work, which you fuckinf should be considering the pure quality it is. once again, chefs kiss!!

i just… i don’t know what to say anymore. your writing, quite literally, has made me completely fucking breathless in a good way of course. anyways, i hope this wasn’t too much of a ramble and at least managed to make you smile or something. have a lovely day sweetheart!!!! <333 :*)

OMG ANON PLS FORGIVE ME IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME DAYS TO RESPOND TO, I DIDN’T WANT TO GIVE YOU A HALF ASSED RESPONSE SO I WAITED TO GET MY MENTAL ENERGY BACK TO A HUNDRED PERCENT SO I CAN SEND BACK MORE LOVE TO YOU WHOLEHEARTEDLY !! FIRST OF ALL UHM…

you really made me speechless with this one, you have no idea. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve reread this and teared up a little bit because you know… I’m so shocked like I really have no idea what I did to receive such a sweet message because I’m just writing silly fanfics when I’m feeling it yknow? Or at least that’s what it seems like because it turns out I have a huge impact on others and I’m able to make people happy like I’ll never EVER get used to that feeling and I mean that in a good way !! Like I’m in a constant state of disbelief that people are this affected by my content and I’m just…

I’m so thankful truly PLEASE can I give you a hug I’m so happy sobs sobs sobs

also baby, thank you sm for this again AAAAHH. I’m not sure if you really mean ‘Earned It’ the mafia! gojo series or ‘Reckless’ the CEO gojo series though ?? Both are discontinued but Earned It was discontinued bcos my dumbass killed Naoya there and he was my favorite so I lost the motivation and it was all my fault SOBBSSS. as for Reckless though, yeah I’d say it was mostly the hate I got for it that demotivated me into continuing it :// but if this ask is meant for Earned It, then yes thank you so much for the kind words as well, though I didn’t really receive hate for it so no worries !!

and aaah anon im…I’m at a loss for words lmao but the part where you said where you would be proud if you wrote it, that’s really…LIKE IDK it just hit me bcos oftentimes I look at something I poured my heart into, but then I’d have days where I’d be like YIKES that wasn’t a good one. its so easy to forget the effort we put into something when we’re affected by external factors. and yeah even though I really don’t want to continue either series anymore, thank you for leaving me the important note of being proud of myself <33

although the series (earned it) wasn’t really something I’d properly executed and planned for, I do remember being passionate over it and feeling truly excited to update. even if it didn’t end out the way I wanted it to, it’s still something I poured my heart on and that’s magnificent on its own, so I’ll be prouder of myself from now on <33

no worries bb you are not overstepping any boundaries at all !! believe me when I say this ask truly do means a lot to me – more than you’ll ever know. messages like these are what keeps me going, as feedback is important to writers, but most of all it’s the genuine support and sincerity that gets to me.

I’m truly humbled and grateful right now. thank you for this again and again and again.

THIS MADE ME MORE THAN SMILE !! there’s a lot of things I’m struggling with even if I don’t publicly express it, but messages like these will always have a special place in my heart. I’m sincerely grateful for everything, and I’ll continue writing here and sharing my works!! It’s supportive people like you that make these moments worthwhile. I’ll never forget this message anon AAAAH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU THANK YOU YOU HAVE AN EVEN BETTER DAY OR NIGHT, you have me weak in the knees for this

OKAY BRB SOBBING IN HAPPINESS

#asks with naoya's trophy wife #suki: for keeps #uwu anon

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cpd5021 · 4 years

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Go Forth Slowly Chapter One

Back with yet another multi chapter fic...I know, I know.

Hailey returns from New York with a newfound intensity in her feelings towards Jay. Can she push them down and remain status quo with him or will she finally confess what she has been hiding from him? Will Jay feel the same way? Can they make it work? Rated T for future chapters...

Today was finally the day, time to return to Chicago, to her home...to Jay. It had been what felt like an eternity here in New York and Hailey was more than ready to go home. She zipped up the suitcase laying on top of the bed and moved over to the window, taking a moment to enjoy the view of the city one last time. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, letting her know the Uber had arrived. She smiled to herself, quickly glancing around the room to make sure nothing had been forgotten, before lugging the suitcase off the bed and heading out the door. She had already filled out the necessary paperwork for checkout this morning, so after just a quick stop to drop off her keycard, she was headed outside to meet the driver. The ride to the airport was slow, a mix of her eagerness to return home combated by the traffic that filled the streets of this city. Finally the airport came into view and once again she found herself smiling. The driver helped her pull the suitcase out of her trunk and she thanked him quickly before turning to walk through the large glass doors of the airport. Check in and security went a little faster than anticipated and Hailey found herself with more time to kill than she would like. Her stomach grumbled in hunger and she realized in her excitement this morning she had forgotten to eat any breakfast. She wandered through the crowded airport, scanning the little restaurants until a little burger joint caught her eye. It was well past lunch time now so a sandwich and some fries would hit the spot. She placed her order with the young waitress and then pulled out her phone while she waited for her food. Hailey found his name almost immediately, not surprising it was at the top of her recent conversations as they had spent plenty of time talking and texting over the last few weeks. It always felt good to talk to him, but it just wasn’t the same as in person. She brought up their thread and typed a quick message, another smile on her face.

At the airport now, the countdown has officially begun. :)

His reply was almost instant, her smile increasing as she opened his text.

Yeah, I’ve been counting down since the day you left so…

And there it was, the line between them flashing before her, the line they had so carefully been dancing against during her time here. Maybe what they say is true, distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or maybe it was the sheer distance that was seeming to give them both the courage of being just a little bolder with the things they said.

Sure, whatever you say Jay. You can still back out, you know, not too late for me to just get an Uber to take me home…

Jay had offered to pick her up from the airport, even going so far as to leave work early to do so. She had fought him initially, telling him that he was being ridiculous and she was more than capable of getting herself home. But eventually she conceded, the thought of him being the first thing she saw back in Chicago exciting her more than she’d care to admit.

Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Sorry.

Her food came then and she settled into enjoying the meal, grateful for the slight distraction from her wandering thoughts. But even an overly priced airport burger did little to truly reroute her thoughts. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t spent a large majority of her free time here thinking about Jay and the realization that being away from him affected her more than it should. More than it should, at least, for someone who was just a partner. But Jay was more than that, that had been clear for the both of them for a long time. At some point, the pair became best friends, leaning on each other to get through even the toughest of cases. They didn’t always reach out when they should, evidenced by Jay getting kidnapped and subsequently shot along with her crossing one to many lines and getting sent to New York. But there was more than that, at least for Hailey. Many nights had been spent laying awake, smiling after a phone call with Jay, hearing all about the antics of her unit back in Chicago, or even the simple day to day things he would relay. She found herself replaying the words Vanessa had said to her that day he got shot.

“It’s hard because you love him.”

And it was true, something Hailey had only truly realized in that moment. It was a label to something she had been feeling for quite some time, something that set her on edge whenever it swelled up inside her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But the way Vanessa had said it, so simply, so matter of fact, made something inside Hailey snap the second she processed the words. She did love him. And it scared the hell out of her. Of course, in that moment, she had brushed off Vanessa’s statement with the rebuttal of him being her partner. But the second she was left alone, the realization of just how right she was hit Hailey like a ton of bricks, the emotions crashing over her in a tidal wave. Hailey had spent the next few hours in the waiting room pondering over what this meant for her, for Jay, for them. And she had sworn to herself that it was something she would keep to herself, for fear of crossing the lines between them. Jay was her person and she wouldn’t risk losing him. But then she went to pick him up the day he was discharged and the second she laid eyes on him, out of bed and fully dressed, looking almost completely back to normal in comparison to the Jay she had seen in the hospital bed, something inside her snapped again and she almost told him right then and there. Luckily, his phone had rang and it had given her just enough time to compose herself and tuck the confession back down where it belonged. Hailey spent the next few months pushing her feelings down, locking them away and focusing on her relationship with Jay as both a partner and friend, promising herself nothing more would come of it. She was almost certain he wouldn’t feel the same way and even with the slight chance he did, both of them held a firm stance on not having a romantic relationship with someone they worked closely with, having both been hurt badly in the past. There were little moments that snuck in though, despite her best efforts. Moments were their banter bordered on flirting and neither seemed to mind. Hailey settled herself for those little moments, enjoying them when they happened and then letting them go, knowing it wouldn’t lead to anything more.

But then New York happened. And the pair spent many hours conversing on the phone in their downtime, sending texts when they were just too busy, always keeping in contact with the other, no matter what was happening in their separate worlds. And those little moments came more often, both of them making little comments here and there, things that they wouldn’t have done before. And the line between them, the line Hailey was fighting so hard to keep clear, suddenly started to blur. And now she was headed home, to see him, face to face for the first time in weeks and she wondered what affect all those little moments would have on them. Would they have created an awkwardness between them? Would they turn into something more? Would they be forgotten and something never brought up?

Hailey finished her meal, paying her tab before leaving the small diner and making her way back out to the hustle and bustle of the busy airport. She wandered through a few of the stores, looking to kill some more time before her flight boarded. Finally she glanced at her phone and saw that it was almost time to go. Eagerly she made her way to the gate and boarded the plane, feeling a sense of relief that she was finally heading home. She pulled out her phone to send Jay a quick text with her flight info and then settled into the long flight.

Two and a half hours was more than enough time to allow Hailey’s mind to wander back to Jay once again. She found herself replaying all the little moments they had shared, not just during her New York stint but even before that. The memories brought a smile to her face and a genuinely happy feeling bubbled within her. As the pilot announced overhead that they were approaching the airport, Hailey shifted in her seat, moving to sit more upright and glanced out the window. As the clouds began to shift around them Hailey made herself take a few deep breaths, once again pushing all the feelings she held for Jay back down. He was her partner and her friend, and he would be nothing more than that. She didn’t want to cross that line with him, risking losing him. So she steeled herself to maintain their normal, status quo relationship. She made a promise to herself that those little moments would once again become few and far between. She wouldn’t let her feelings for him rise to the surface now that she was back home, telling herself those moments and those feelings could stay in New York. As the planes jostled to the ground, Hailey let a sense of relief wash over her. She was home.

She waited in her seat to allow the other passengers to offload first and pulled out her phone to let Jay know she had arrived. Once she was off the plane she headed to baggage claim, having to wait a few minutes before her bag chugged into view. Pulling it behind her she set off for the arrival gate, eyes scanning the crowd for his familiar face, knowing that he would have come inside instead of just waiting in his truck. A large group of people stood before her, what looked like a group of international tourists. They shuffled around in front of her, slowing her pace. She gave them a forced smile as she pressed her way through them. One older man bumped into her, almost making her trip just as she cleared their mass. Her eyes darted down to the ground as she struggled to stay upright and when her eyes returned up, she saw him. The moment her eyes found his face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips telling her he had no doubt just witnessed her stumble, something inside her snapped again. Her heart began to race and threatened to beat out of her chest. Her breath was caught in her throat and she struggled to take a breath. She walked over to him as if on autopilot, not paying any attention to anything in front of her except him. His smirk turned into a full blown smile as she closed the gap, one she mirrored immediately. Her bag slowed to a stop beside her as she stood smiling at him, surely looking like a complete idiot with the grin plastered on her face.

“Hailey…”

Her name on his lips made her breath hitch once again. If she thought she felt relief when the plane landed she was wrong. Chicago wasn’t home. He was.

#chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd #halstead and upton #jay halstead #hailey upton #halstead #jay x hailey #upstead #upton

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