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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

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It Is Knowing*

HI THANKS FOR EVERYTHING. It’s been a wonderful ride. Here’s the last part of Bag of Tricks. It’s tender and smutty and stupid. All mistakes are my own.

Please stop reading if you are not over 18!

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

He’s terrified.

Suddenly he’s looking at you one way, and then in a flash, the same dumb grin you always give him— the crooked one on the cusp of an ill joke— turns bright white.

It goes brilliant like star fire and during a storm inside a standard-issued cabin hideout, Bucky thinks he must be losing his mind.

And maybe he’s been losing it for a few weeks now, but he’s done a great job dodging the reality of your confession so far. Doesn’t matter what you mumbled—cracked out on exhaustion and sleep-talking—because in the end, you’re his friend and you love him the same way you love everyone else: annoyingly. Nothing’s changed about that.

He hazards another glimpse.

“Help?” You ask from the table, angrily scratching out blocks of an attempted crossword puzzle.

Do it in pencil, he tried to warn earlier, but you only called him chickenshit because you’re—yep—annoying.

“Foudre,” Bucky says carefully and you perk up at the sound of his voice. “It’s a… six-letter French word for thunder.” He clears his throat, gesturing toward the window splattered with rain.

“Oh-ho-ho,” you snort, “Smart boy, aren’t ya? FOO-DRUH.” An incredible bastardization of the term, and you sing around a chewed-up pen cap between your teeth. “My name’s Smart-Boy-Bucky and I know French, Russian, and Updog.”

“What the hell is Updog?”

Your face steels.

“Nothing much, how ‘bout you?”

And instead of going over there to kick your ass, all he can do is stare wordlessly as you break into a laugh—his entire body electric like a live wire.

He keeps telling himself there are only a few days before someone drops in to collect. He just needs a little bit of distance, some time alone to clear his head and get over this—thing.

But his brain feels like it’s melting while he waits, his stomach is probably developing an ulcer, and his heart is so fast and fierce that he can almost see the pulse in his sternum throbbing errantly.

Too many things are wrong. You’re his friend— and Bucky wants to throttle himself a little bit for ever letting you be his friend. You’re an unfiltered, oblivious dumbass and he doesn’t like that at all. You cry over animals and when he gets hurt because you’re an insufferable drama queen, too. He hates that. He does.

The sound of something enormous slamming on the ground makes him dash into the shared bedroom and—oh god, Bucky thinks he’s going to throw up.

First, the mattresses are on the floor.

Second, you’re. wearing. that. stupid. shirt.

The blue one. The one he used to love, hated for a bit, came back around to wearing, and now—yep, he officially hates it again.

“I think you’re too tall for the bunk.” You’re pushing the beds together, unaware of his clenched fists. “So if we sleep diagonally your feet won’t hang off—and can you believe it—” you point to the hem of cerulean brushing against your skin, “I packed three raincoats and no pajamas.”

At the sight of your creeping smile, Bucky loses it.

“Why are you going through my stuff?!” He shouts, gripping the doorframe with enough force to take the molding clear off. “Why are you touching my shit!?” And he probably sounds insane, flying off the handle like this, but he’s got a million grievances against you and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Mind your own fucking business!” He’s still unloading, unreasonably frantic at the sight of that terrible color hanging from your shoulders.

Bewildered, you plop down clumsily on your knees, gawking like a deer in the headlights.

Your bare legs, your fingertips on your thighs, the thin sleeves oversized and loose on your forearms, that smear of toothpaste on the collar, the hollow of your throat taut from holding your breath—it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you dizzy.

It makes him want to touch you. It makes him want you.

He’s sick. He’s dying. He’s so, so fucked.

“What…” Bucky quietly trails off, gasping helplessly as realization sinks in, “…what the hell is wrong with you...”

“Me?!” You shriek back, “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m over here worried about your crusty feet hanging off at night and you just swing in and take a dump on me?”

Bucky groans, miserable and guilty. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, “Shit. I’m—I don’t know.”

“Eat my ass, dude!” you sneer, already tucked under the blankets. “I’m going to sleep. Turn off the fucking light you’re going to stand there looking like a dumbass.”

A feeble sigh as Bucky pushes his hands into his face, gripping his hair, pulling his own head back until he’s glaring at the ceiling, listening to the patter on the roof.

“You’re the dumbass,” he whispers.

You’re the dumbass with the emotional regulation problem. The idiot with the temper. The head full of sawdust. But, if it only took three careless words from your blundering mouth to make Bucky fall entirely apart, you must be right after all. He is the dumbass.

He feels split open like the sky—torn up completely, unable to make out anything in his own turbulence.

Fuck.

The sheets shift until he hears them slide off. Then, a pattern of bare feet across hardwood. He must look disastrous in the doorway, bent out of shape in uncharacteristic disarray.

“What is going on with you?” You find his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrists, tugging until they peel off his wretched face. “Why are you so upset? I wear your clothes all the time; I’m always in your stuff.”

He chuckles defeatedly because you really are always in his space. Throwing yourself into in his room. Eating chips in his bed. Squirreling away in his brain. Everywhere. Always.

Bucky presses his lips into a thin line, grimacing as he looks at you. Wordless and vulnerable, he can feel his brow sinking lower, throat narrowing around a swallow as he attempts to fix himself. A stutter falls out, then another, crackling syllables like surfacing thunder but never quite forming a sentence.

The earth groans, shaking the cabin and his precarious soul.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like—”

And then, under a streak of lightning, recognition splits across your face.

“Don’t,” he pleads to the silence, “Don’t say it.”

The seconds stretch into horrible eons of slow passing time. You tilt your head this way and that, eyes going from his face to his hands, limp at his side with your own fingers still grasping on.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you say gently, “You’re—my best friend.”

Bucky shuts his eyes. “I know. I’m not trying—"

“Bucky,” you interrupt, faster now. “Bucky,” suddenly elated and laughing. “Bucky—shut up.”

And then the entire room bursts into flames. Your lips are searing hot against his— plump and eager, leaving scorching trails everywhere they touch, and Bucky burns up like a solar flare trying to catch his breath.

“You’re an idiot,” you laugh, kissing him again. His cheeks, his jaw, his chin. “A real idiot.”

He’s terrified and dizzy, fumbling with a million possible outcomes and failing painfully each time. Relationships never quite work out for him; he’s dated a few girls and liked them a lot, too, but they’ve never turned out how he wanted them to. And this one—this one, he really can’t fuck up.

He’s got a bad track record, and with you, never knowing is much better than losing.

“Hey, you’re going crazy in there. I can hear it.” A sweet smile as your lips hover over his. The sweetest your face as ever looked. “Stop thinking, Bucky. Kiss me.”

Your lashes are so long and pretty. The dip of your cupid’s bow, a shape he adores. Even the tiny scar on your neck and the way your hair moves— wispy strands framing your face. Sounds of happiness tumbling out, hand firmly inside of his.

“It’s just me.” Joyful. Comfortable. “You know me.”

Your eyes glimmer—a familiar color calling him home.

“Yeah,” he chokes out, “Yeah, I do.”

Steve was the more competent linguist in their old days. Rolling French r’s, dropping ending consonants, silky smooth in pronunciation. Bucky’s tongue had always been more supplant to the Eastern European languages but, he knows enough of French—remembers enough from the war to recognize this:

Coup de foudre.

It’s the thing romantics exalt, the thing that half-strikes him now. The thunderbolt.

Love at first sight, even though it’s not quite first sight at all.

It’s not infatuated or starry-eyed. Not blind. Not feeling.

It is knowing.

And yeah, Bucky watches the way you pull him to the floor, euphoric and aglow, Jesus H. Christ, he knows.

This is it for him: your chaos, your entropy, your impulse. Your lack of personal space and foresight and good fucking sense. But—your kindness, too. Your care. Your heart.

Calm and patient as you settle down into his lap, the warm weight of you seems to be the only thing keeping him on earth.

“Can I touch you?” You ask shyly.

His voice is barely audible, hands unsure of where to rest, heart swollen in his throat.

Bucky flushes, and in the split second of your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip, he tells himself do it, you coward, just fucking do it—and god help him, he does.

He presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collar and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs and instinctively pulling everything off.

You’re both surprised and excited, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too.

His shirt gets flung behind your back. Both pants disappear somewhere else. One hand goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

Bucky stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

He feels perfect in your hands. A silly grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and glide yourself over his length, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Bucky begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s unquestionably powerless.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Buck.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Bucky holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second--"

Using the position you’re already in, he lifts you up and brings you back down, a bit at a time until you’re landing on his hand with a gasp. He uses his fist as a stopper, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Thor?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a hook up. One time—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Bucky wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking on top, tipping him backward into the cushions, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Bucky, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck.

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Bucky could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

It’s rougher in the morning. In the shower, soaking together. Faster.

On the couch, next. With him asking you to put your hand here, move your leg there.

He wants to learn everything you like, too.

You eagerly change positions, giggling when your knee slips and you pitch forward onto his chest. The two of you take a moment to compose yourselves, pinching each other, kissing in-between. He commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you. The way everything moves easy and wonderful, sometimes lazy, sometimes harried, but always fun.

Yelping when you bite too hard. Biting you back even harder. Positions neither of you have surprisingly tried before, but why not start?

Cursing. So much cursing. A lot of it good—fuck me, yes, more, don’t stop—but truthfully, most of it stays about the same.

Barnes, you got a juicy ass.

Will you shut up!

And he never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or if maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Bucky’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the front door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Sam swings it open and Bucky is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” Sam hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Sam!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a sweater, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Bucky is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Sam whispers again, “Oh… my god.” He sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” he hisses, before screaming, “Oh hell no! I’m here picking y’all asses up. Landed the damn jet like two miles away, walked my happy ass through the rain— you butt-ass-naked in here—” He stands ram-rod straight, hands on his hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on y’all.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Sam!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m wet! And well— you wet too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Sam snickers, high-fiving himself before crossing his arms, “Really though, believe me when I say this for everybody who’s ever met you two: finally. Now get y’all freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Barnes’ dick.”

You pat him on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Sam dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Bucky locks the door to a now silent cabin, damp with sweat and the smell of earth. It’s torrential still, two days bucketing and the ground is so wet mud goes up to his ankles. Luckily, and he wants to laugh at that, you packed two extra raincoats.

Thunderclaps shake the very ground he stands on. Bucky turns to look at you, marveling when electricity bounces off your eyes, lighting up your face. He reaches over.

A squeeze to your hand that says I’m yours.

One more, tighter. I love you.

You slot your fingers between his. I know.

You smile at the next streak in the sky. Me too.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #reader insert #fanfiction #mcu

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anna-justice · 4 years ago

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Crash My Party - Upstead

Summary: Hailey receives some terrible news and suffers a severe panic attack, and like always, Jay is there for her. (Pre-Established Upstead/8x03 never happened)

Warnings: fluff, swearing, maybe mentions of violence

Requested: Yes! #66, “I can’t do this alone anymore.”

…

The walk up the stairs to his apartment building seemed longer than normal. Her hands shook as she fiddled with her keys, the clinking creating white noise that echoed through the stairwell. She pushed the door at the top open and made her way down the hall, subconsciously reading the numbers on every door as she passed.

When she reached his door, she took a deep breath, running her hand through her blonde hair that - for once - was falling over her shoulders. She raised her hand to knock, but held it there for a second. Something about this didn’t seem right, her showing up unannounced with a million things to drop on him. Even though they had both done it a thousand times, there was always a voice in the back of her head that told her that it wasn’t his problem.

She fought the feelings and knocked on the door, shifting on her heels as she waited. She stared at the ground and squinted hard, pushing the possible tears back down. The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing a smiley and very shocked Jay. Hailey watched as his face contorted from a big grin to confused, and then to concern. She wished the floor would just swallow her up. “Hailey?”

“Hey.” She said quietly. She knew she should have called or texted, or maybe even stayed home to face it alone, but she always felt better after a drink with him. After the day she had, she just needed to be close to him.

Jay stepped slightly in front of the door, closing it partly behind him. It was then Hailey realized he probably wasn’t alone. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely.

Hailey blinked back tears for the upteenth time that day, the thought of Jay spending his Friday night with any other girl but her cut deep. She knew she was jumping to conclusions, but right now, he heart couldn’t take it.“Yeah, yeah, I-”

“Jay!” Someone called from inside the apartment, “What’s taking you so long to get a pizza?” Jay’s cheeks heated up and Hailey let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Kevin.

“Oh, sorry.” Hailey said, fighting the urge to smile (an action that hadn’t crossed her mind in hours). He had company, and she didn’t want to interrupt, but every part of her was extremely relieved that it was just their friends hiding behind the door. “I didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll just go.” She turned to walk away, but Jay placed a hand on her shoulder, stepping out of the doorway.

He shook his head, “I’m not. It’s just the guys. What’s up?”

Hailey was opening her mouth to protest when she was interrupted again. “Jay, quit flirting with the delivery guy and get back in here. You’re missing the game.” Another voice yelled, which Hailey assumed was Severide.

Jay held up his hand, motioning for her to give him a second. He leaned his head back in the apartment, “Give me a second.” He shouted.

“Jay, really, it’s fine. I’ll see you later.” She said, trying (and failing) to give him a reassuring smile.

Jay cocked an eyebrow at her, “You sure?” Hailey nodded, even though she wasn’t. Even though hers was long gone, she didn’t want to ruin his night.

She was about to leave again when they heard footsteps behind them, “Okay, I need to see what this girl looks like-” The door swung open to reveal Will, who stopped dead in his tracks. “Hailey, hi.” He said, a lot louder than he needed too. Hailey blushed and Jay rolled his eyes. Will glanced between the two of them, a tiny smirk showing on his face. He looked at Jay, “Take your time.” Before either of them could say a thing, he shut the door.

Jay chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry about him. They thought you were the delivery guy.”

Hailey nodded, “Yeah, I got that.”

He took her in, noticing the fading tear marks on her cheeks and the half smile on her face. She wasn’t okay, and he knew that. “You wanna come in? We have beer and a hockey game.” He asked, gesturing at the door.

Hailey shook her head, glancing at the ground. “That’s okay. You guys have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.” They both retreated to where they came from, Jay shutting the door and leaning against it. He couldn’t shake the sad look in her eyes. He made his way back to his couch, surprised to see the three grown men already there watching him expectantly. “What?”

“How’s Hailey?” Will asked, smirking again.

Jay sighed, “I don’t really know, she looked upset.” He glanced between the three of them. “I think I need to…” He said, looking back at the door.

“Of course, man, we get it.” Kevin said, taking a swig of his beer.

“Yeah,” Kelly agreed, “We’ll just sit here, drink your beer and eat your food.”

“And miss you.” Will added and Jay rolled his eyes, “Seriously, it’s Hailey, go.”

Jay smiled at his friends, “Thanks guys.” He grabs his coat and his keys and was out the door in a matter of seconds.

They heard the door close behind him and Kelly shook his head, taking a sip of his drink. He nodded his head in the direction that Jay left. “He’s so whipped.”

Kevin and Will both laughed, nodding in agreement. “So…” Will said.

“It’s honestly kind of sad.”

…

By the time Hailey made it inside of her apartment, she was pulling hard on her fingers. She could feel her pulse picking up, and the pain of squeezing her anxious hands was keeping her grounded. It felt like it was a hundred degrees inside and she aggressively pushed off her coat, throwing it over a chair. She crossed the room, gripping the edge of her counter while trying to focus on her breathing.

Her chest felt tight and her knuckles were white from her tight grip. She clamped her eyes shut, pushing herself away from the counter and squeezing her hands in a fist at her sides. She stood in the center of the room, looking up at the ceiling as she blinked back tears. She wouldn’t cry again, no, she couldn’t cry again. That didn't stop her though, the salty liquid began to trickle down her face.

Hailey let out a frustrated groan - the distraught noise coming out very un-Hailey-like - and gasped for air, finding her way back to the counter. She refused to give in, it had been so long since this had happened, and she was going to fight like hell to make sure it didn’t follow through. She thought she was past it, she thought she was old enough to deal with things correctly.

However, her mind and her body had a different idea. Her chest burned and her throat felt like sandpaper, she almost didn’t even notice her phone buzzing on the counter. She absently reached out and picked it up, letting out a sob as she read the caller ID. A second later, her phone hit the wall next to her, shattering and falling to the floor along with any sense of calm she had left.

She heaved, she felt almost like she was floating. The only thing keeping in place was the counter in front of her. She finally let herself slip, she stopped fighting the pain and let it consume her.

Jay was almost to her door when he heard the crash inside, “Hailey!” He yelled, immediately kicking the door in (not even bothering to see if it was open).

Everything happened so fast. The commotion behind her caused Hailey to look up from her fixed gaze on the granite and the sudden movement sent her head spinning. Jay watched it all happen, catching her just before she hit the floor. “Hailey, Hailey.” He said, panicking. She slumped against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Jay held her to him on instinct, noticing her trembling body. “Hailey breathe, please.” He said, trying to sit her up as she heaved.

“I can’t, I can’t,” She choked out, clutching her chest. Her crying continued as Jay wracked his brain for what to do. He was sure she was having a panic attack, he had had quite a few of his own, but he was in shock. His calm - put together - force to be reckoned with - Hailey was nowhere to be found.

He shifted so that he was in front of her, hands braced on her upper arms to keep her upright. “Look at me Hailey, deep breaths. It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.”

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Make it stop,” She gasped, “Please Jay, make it stop. It hurts.”

Jay felt his heart clench in his chest, he absolutely hated seeing her like this. And it was probably good that he had no idea what was going on, because otherwise he would be planning a murder in his mind. “Hailey,” He said, but she was lost somewhere. “Hailey, look at me.” His words were gentle, but firm, and it grabbed her attention. Her head snapped up and her teary blue eyes met his. He cracked a smile, letting his hand slide up to her shoulder. “Good, now try to match my breathing.” She nodded, fixing her eyes on his chest and watching it rise and fall.

They sat on the floor together for at least fifteen minutes. Hailey watching Jay breath steadily and trying to match it. She was hyper focused, she didn’t dare let her mind wander. It had proven to be dangerous territory. Jay though, he felt like his brain was going to explode.

When Hailey finally felt like she could control herself, she slid onto her bottom, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. She ran her hands on her eyes and pulled her knees to her chest, partly to collect herself, partly because she was absolutely mortified. She sniffled, taking a few deep breaths on her own.

Jay relaxed as well, sitting back on his heels and keeping his distance. His eyes never left her, like if he looked away she would fall apart again. She looked so sad, so scared and it made him feel physically ill. “I think I broke your door.”

Hailey laughed out loud at his bad excuse for lightening the mood, “It’s okay.” She said quietly, running a hand under her nose. They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. Hailey felt a strange sense of calm, one that she only felt around him, and it was a nice contrast to the past hour of pure panic.

“Are you okay?” He asked, giving her a pointed look.

It felt like such a loaded question, and honestly it was one. Jay had asked her that a million times, but there was no doubt that this time was different, she couldn’t backtrack this, not after what just happened. And as easy and safe to brush it off her shoulder and tell him that she was fine, she couldn’t, and she didn’t want to. Hailey’s gaze shifted down and she shook her head slowly.

Jay sat in front of her, legs crossed and a somber expression on his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hailey sniffled again, shaking her head. She rested it in her hand and took him in, something about him sitting on her kitchen floor felt so right. So right that she didn’t want to ruin it with how wrong everything in her life was. She didn’t want to tell him that her mom called her for the first time in years to tell her that her father was dying - and not only that - but that she wanted Hailey to come see him and possibly donate a piece of her major organ to him. She didn’t want to admit that she couldn’t do it, that she couldn’t bring herself to save him. She didn’t want to tell him that despite all the terrible things her father had done, she still felt sadness over his possible passing. She didn’t want him to know that a mere phone call had sent her into such a tailspin. She didn’t want him to know anything.

But here he was, looking at her the way no one else ever had, caring in a way no one else ever had. What was she supposed to do with that? “I can’t do this alone anymore.” It came out quiet, and neither of them were sure that she was actually talking to him. It felt more like a realization than anything.

“Hailey,” Jay said, taking the hand that was resting on her knee on her own. “You don’t have to, you never had to.”

The look on her face when he said those words was something Jay would never forget, the utter shock that showed so clearly. It pained him at how surprised she looked to hear something that had never been a second thought to him. She was his rock, his compass, at this point, maybe his entire life. How did she not see it?

“I thought it would be easier, to ignore it all.” She said, eyes glassing over again. She leaned her head against the wall, sighing. “I just can’t run fast enough to escape it.” Jay gave her a soft, but pointed look, urging her to continue. “My dad, um, he’s sick. Really sick, and, my mom, she called me to tell me. And she asked if I would come see him and if I would -” She laughed cynically “- if I would consider giving him a piece of my liver.”

“What?” Jay said, the word sort of just tumbling out of his mouth.

Hailey nodded her head, giving him a fake, tight lipped smile, “Yep.” She took a breath, “I don’t know, it was like years and years of suppressed pain just all came flooding back at once. So I went to your place, but you were busy and…” She gestured to them, implying that that is why they ended up where they were. “I’m sorry, that you had to see me like that.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m glad I was here.” Jay said, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand that was still in his. “I always want to be here, you just have to let me in.”

The genuine and vulnerable look in his eye was too much for Hailey to handle, so she avoided his gaze. “I don’t know, you seem to be pretty good at getting in on your own. You did break my door.”

Jay laughed, knowing that the joke was meant to offset the realness of the moment. He didn’t blame her, he was scared too. “I’m serious Hailey, this is where I want to be. All the time, with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Here he was: her beautiful, emotionally stunted, action first partner laying his heart on the floor in front of her. “I want you here.”

“Good,” He said, “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each of them lost in their own thoughts. There was so much more that needed to be said, so much more that needed to be clarified, but at that moment it didn't matter. They were just them. “Is it bad that I don’t want to help him, does that make me a terrible person?” Hailey asked, breaking the silence.

“No,” Jay said immediately, “Not at all. It means you are strong.” She nodded, but Jay could tell that she didn't really believe him. “Hailey you are the strongest person I know, you make me stronger, you make me better. He doesn’t deserve your help, especially if you don’t want to give it.” He stood up, holding out a hand to her and pulling her up off the floor. “He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to forgive him.” She confessed.

Jay shrugged, “That’s okay.”

Hailey looked up at him, complete adoration in her eyes. He smiled down at her and even though she had doubted it before, she didn’t now. Something was different, something had shifted, he felt the same way she did and it was dulling the ache inside her. “Jay-” She started.

“I know.” He said, his grin growing a bit. “Me too. But we don’t have to talk about any of that right now. Let’s just get some sleep.”

Hailey hesitated, the thought of being alone terrifying her. “Will you be here when I wake up?” She asked, fixing her gaze on the floor in between them.

“Hailey,” Jay said, taking a step forward and cupping her cheek with his hand, “I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

…

A/N: This was so fun to write, also, I’m alive haha. Sorry I haven’t posted in forever, I am so ridiculously busy, but I’m hoping that within the next month I can start posting regularly again. Thanks for reading! <3

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #hailey upton x jay halstead #chicago pd #one chicago #will halstead #kelly severide #kevin atwater

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 3 years ago

Text

the wolf should’ve been afraid of me.

Titans 3.04

just under the wire! ... i hope.

like with the previous review, i’m typing this up as i see the episode. here we go!

spoilers ahead.

1. ... well. that was an interesting cold open.

1.25. i don’t know whether to admire this show’s restraint when it comes to gotham and its excesses, particularly arkham asylum. it’d be easy to go hammer and tongs, like suicide squad (2016) did, or any number of bat media did, at a tropey, colourful~~insanity~~ that can be quite damaging, casting mental illness in strangeness and criminality. it definitely shows gotham as... separate from the rest of the country, its own ecosystem of heroes and villains, a sort of rogue state.

but that ecosystem is still human, with its heroes needing to clip parts of themselves away just to survive, growing old and needing to be recycled, its villains languishing in the same kinds of systems that fail everybody else who needs to be helped. it’s a quieter, tenser sort of wrongness: not strange enough that you can dissociate, but not close enough that you can completely empathise. gotham is its own creature.

1.5. i know that the reasoning behind this is more doylist than anything, but i’m so glad that joker was killed off with little fanfare right at the start of the season. he is the one man in the batverse that’s transcended its confines as this sort of ethereal boogeyman/eternal edgelord and to justify his presence in the series would mean giving him this tired, overblown importance and too much of a stab at colourful, tropey “madness” in this otherwise-subdued series. i wish all batmedia would follow suit and get rid of this fucker.

1.75. so jason is bucking scarecrow’s control! or reminding him of who exactly holds all the cards right now. circling back to what i talked about in the last review, it’s remarkable just how little time it’s been since jason’s “death” and he’s already got ‘minions’ and elaborately set up plans to track, break and kill the titans. just how long has he been planning this? when did he first look at WE weapons prototypes and think that’s something i can use to blow somebody up? and the most unsettling question: did he plan his own death at the hands of the joker just so that he could break batman?

at this point it’s obvious that the scarecrow at least started jason down this path, but it’s frightening just how far he’s travelled already.

1.8. aaagh, less than one minute in! i’ll shut up.

2. conner washing his hands at the sink reminds me that he was directly in the line of explosion when hank got blown up and he’s probably got atomised hank-bits all over his skin that he’s desperately trying to wash off.

... you’re welcome.

2.25. conner, don’t you speak to gar fucking logan like that, sir, no!

2.3. if anything it’s the lex part of him that gave him the knowhow to recognise the weapon and build a de-activator for it.

anyway, for that ‘half-breed’ and ‘talking tiger’ comment?

(i wish, tho, that we actually see conner more interested in the superman part of his legacy, like maybe listening to stories from gar, or even better, dick, so we get a better idea of the pressure he’s feeling to live up to that part of him and not the part that’s lex.)

((i talked about conner’s stages of moral development in his introductory episode last season, but i wonder if the next stage of his self-actualisation would be to further integrate the parts of himself and realise that they are only parts and he, conner, is an entirely different person unto himself that can make decisions on how to use what he has and what he knows. his superman abilities can be used to destroy. his lex knowledge can be used to save.))

3. oh dawn :((

3.25. is this the last we see of dawn and hank? i mean, we know donna is coming back; would it be a stretch to think they’ll try to have a go at resurrecting hank as well?

3.5. “deathstroke didn’t make us into killers.” good, because deathstroke didn’t make jason a killer either. there’s a missing step there you need to be looking for, dick.

3.75. dick did try to break the cycle, step away from gotham, run from the possibility that he could turn into batman. it didn’t help; he couldn’t fully withdraw from his vigilante persona the same time he loathed it, and batman literally haunted him both asleep and awake. but maybe gotham doesn’t have to turn anybody into anything. maybe gotham has nothing to do with it at all. it’s about taking responsibility, realising some sacrifices are pure bullshit, and building an actual family instead of merely a team.

anyway: hugs!

(oh, also? mr “i hate flying”? i mean, there’s perfectly valid reasons to hate flying that’s not related to childhood trauma, but then again, this guy was literally a ‘flying grayson’ once. also also, remember that he also gets sea-sick. must’ve a lot of fun stories to tell.)

4. ooh that gar/kory confrontation was brief but cool!

listen, i have never seen a psychiatrist with that extravagant an office and SIR I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW HOW--

4.5. kory’s so unused to reaching out for help and it’s breaking my heart that HPG likely is some kind of impostor that’s maybe causing her symptoms in the first place.

kory and dick have mostly been apart this season but it’s remarkable how their journeys have paralleled each other; kory processes her grief, isolation and existential dread into a determination to take care of this new family she has, no matter what it takes; dick does much the same, forging ahead with plans and solutions until he has no fuel left in him and spirals into a massive breakdown.

4.25. listen titans this really is a TERRIBLE continuity error. we aren’t goldfish; we can clearly remember that two minutes ago it was gar’s upper arm that was burned, not his forearm. COME ON.

“sensory deprivation tank” *SNORT*

anyway, gar is the BEST

4.5. i wonder where these visions of experimentation took place. was it on tamaran, or on earth, after she came to hunt down rachel/trigon and before she lost all her memories? is HPG a part of the scientist group that experimented on her? ... god, i hope not. i mean, i think he is, but it would be cool to have some positive therapist representation in media.

5. you’d think the van transporting a dangerous supervillain that only batman could catch would be more secure but... i’m also not entirely surprised.

5.15. i love dick gives ZERO shits about hiding himself or even ensuring scarecrow is adequately contained. just turns away after kidnapping him in BROAD DAYLIGHT and says ‘let’s go’. I LOVE THIS DUMBASS

6. lmao gar is having a really really shitty day SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK or just a goddamn story arc of his own

6.5. i’m really confused about the timeline here. so... sometime ago, kory came down to earth to hunt down trigon, yeah? at some further point down the line she and her sister were kidnapped and experimented on. THEN she somehow escapes but... loses her memory? a few months pass and then we see blackfire alive and well and free; she kills faddei, can impersonate other people, and is clearly seeking out kory. but now she’s still in the experiment facility...? what’s going on?

i’m not entirely surprised about the facility being mostly deserted. either the biggest investors in this project gave up on it and it was left to the most fanatic to carry on, or they were deliberately trying to lure kory and get her to free blackfire--expand the environs of the experiment, so to speak.

7. hopefully barbara is going to get something to do other than listen to various men give her Attitude

8. how do you terrorise a terrorist? well:

i love when dick is a scary-competent motherfucker.

8.25. ooooh, the attack on crane at arkham a ploy to get crane to blackgate? nice one dick, i didn’t even think of that. but why though? to protect crane from the titans? to intercept the van to blackgate and “rescue” him? seems likely--red hood was there, except dick got to crane quicker.

9. still reeeallly unclear about the komand’r situation. was komand’r captured after s2? is this all A TRAP?? if so, why are you stepping into the only thing that can contain you, kory????

9.25. so... definite parallels between dick/jason and kory/kom here. i’m just. i’m still. really confused. i’ll shut up now.

10. this may be my favourite dick look yet:

woodsman!dick in a beanie.

10.5. i unironically love how titans has made this bizarrely-devoted-to-his-moniker, toxin-spewing supervillain into a tamer version of hannibal, psychoanalysing his victims into submission. it’s of a piece with how inward looking titans is, the way all of its villains are obsessed with how our protagonists’ minds work, to the point where they would actually spend time inside of them.

there are no big plots to end the world. no apocalypses or endgames here. these villains collect the titans’ insecurities like infinity stones. the way the titans defeat them is by achieving character growth--literally winning by the power of love. literally “the real superpower is the friends we made along the way”!

10.7. anyway, i’m betting dick is used to this bullshit from crane and is humouring him in the service of getting more information. the story about the wolf? an implicit threat, not to mention dick getting to control what crane knows about him and what methods he would use to manipulate him.

am i giving dick too much credit here? i don’t think so. he’s really impressed me so far this season.

10.75. like. there’s a real unreliable narrator vibe coming off with every person that talks about bruce (much like how the various members of the titans talked about jason’s motivations) and to buy into crane’s talk about bruce being a psychopath is to fall for the same manipulation that jason fell for. dick is the only person who hasn’t really psychoanalysed bruce this season, and i think some part of his detective brain is piecing things together into a bigger picture.

11. i’m glad kory rescued kom but did she have to kill the scientist?

(i mean, yeah, probably - the less people know that kom escaped the less likely they’re going to have the fucking govt on their doorstep, but still.)

11.5. dick’s gonna come back to wayne manor, stare straight at komand’r and go, well which room would you like? because the team might as well adopt ANOTHER person, yeah?

12. oh MAN that red hood/nightwing fight was AMAZING! and he did the thing! the boomerang escrima thing! i’m so delighted!

12.5. the anger and disbelief in dick’s voice when he says you told crane EVERYTHING?! tells me that he knew exactly what he was telling crane himself.

12.75. “everything you are is because of him” - oh that reminds me of halluci!bruce from last season. i hope we see halluci!bruce again--he is so vicious but so entertaining... so much more effective at tearing dick down than crane or jason combined. goes to show that dick’s biggest enemy is own fucking head.

12.8. oh no! dick’s shot! crane is in the wind with red hood! blackfire is now with the titans! i love it!

honestly this season’s pacing is such a big step up from the last couple. gold star, show.

#titans #titans spoilers #meta #dick grayson #koriand'r #garfield logan #komand'r #conner kent #dawn granger #jason todd #jonathan crane #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle #manic pixie pop tart #a tragic jalebi

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carewyncromwell · 3 years ago

Photo

[HPMA] Rim Sikander Moodboard

featuring Maya Ali as Rim

“One track mind, one track heart -- If I fail, I'll fall apart! Maybe it is all a test -- ‘Cause I feel like I'm the worst, So I always act like I'm the best... If you are not very careful, your possessions will possess you: TV taught me how to feel...now real life has no appeal... It has no appeal -- it has no appeal -- It has no appeal... It has no appeal -- it has no appeal! I know exactly what I want and who I want to be -- I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine -- I'm now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy... Oh -- oh no! Oh no! Oh no -- oh!”

~“Oh No!” by Marina and the Diamonds

x~x~x~x

Rim Sikander is the only daughter of Muggle Studies professor Arif Sikander’s brother, Hamza. She is also the younger sister of Fawkes the phoenix’s new Muggle owner, Farid Sikander.

If any child was going to be considered the “favorite,” it would probably be youngest child and only girl, Rim. Academically brilliant and incredibly driven, Rim won’t let anything stand in the way of her ambition to become a well-respected financial advisor, whether it’s her gender, other people’s prejudice toward her Irish heritage or Muslim faith, or even her own father Hamza’s pointed encouragement to become an investment banker instead. Unlike her older brothers Malik and Farid, Rim uses her brain far more than her heart when it comes to decision-making, often making her the level head of the family. Unfortunately, when Farid is forced to leave his family so he can’t tell them about the Wizarding World he’d inadvertently discovered through Fawkes the phoenix, that level head was ill-equipped to try to fill the gap he left behind. Rim was sharp enough to know that Farid had always been the peacekeeper, being able to both cool Malik’s hot temper and soften Hamza’s harsher words -- and without Farid to soothe them, and because Hamza was the one who’d supposedly sent Farid away in the first place, Malik and Hamza’s relationship became very hostile. Even Hamza’s marriage with Nida was suddenly on the rocks. For as brilliant as Rim was, she couldn’t bring her family back together again with logic and reason, and her failure to fix things made her fall into a severe depression that she nonetheless tried to soldier through. She couldn’t afford to fall apart when things were so bad. Even if she knew full well that Farid would likely be the only person with the right instincts on how to mend the bonds broken in their family, he wasn’t there to fix things -- only she was. And when Farid was finally able to return...Rim knew her brother well enough to know that he would be heartbroken, if he came home to a family broken beyond repair.

Tagging @lifeofkaze because hey -- this is your girl Reva’s future sister-in-law!! xoxo

#hpma #rim sikander #farid sikander #aesthetic #moodboard #arif sikander #hamza sikander #malik sikander #if malik is a gryffindor/slytherin type and farid is a hufflepuff/ravenclaw type this girl is flat-out ravenclaw #basically these three siblings are body heart and brain respectively #rim specifically is an intj so she can seem a little coldblooded compared to her siblings #but she's really not she's just logical and sensible to a fault #it makes it so she's slow to anger but she also has a lot of trouble talking to people about their emotions #she finds it very illogical to get all hot-and-bothered about stuff and so finds hamza's resentment and malik's temper exhausting #but at the same time she loves her family and she knows how much farid would hate seeing everyone this way #especially malik #so she tries to keep things together as best she can even being carrier pigeon sometimes between hamza and malik #this does prompt some heated exchanges between malik and rim #but malik wouldn't ever cut his siblings out of his life like he does hamza -- he's way too overprotective of them #so they always make up not long after #rim wants to be a personal financial advisor because she wants to solve individual people's problems not corporate problems #she wants to see the results of her labors first-hand and have a personal stock in them

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

Text

chapter 22

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 4.36K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: our first full introduction to all of BTS! I hope you're all excited ^^

Why did there have to be a meeting today of all days?

Yoongi scowls in the back of the car, trying his best to work on the small music app he’s downloaded for free on his phone. Letting out a small growl, he throws the phone aside, frustrated and annoyed.

“Absolute trash.” He snarls, staring ahead with nothing but malice in his eyes. The driver flinches a bit at the dark aura emanating from the back seat, and slowly rolls up the little partition glass that separates the two.

You know...just in case.

Yoongi notices the small act of distance and rolls his eyes, scoffing. He doesn't have to apologize. He can have a bad attitude if he wants. His schedule was supposed to be completely free today, a day where he could work on the album quietly. It was supposed to be a productive day, one where he could hole himself up in his studio and work and work until he made music that was perfect for their comeback.

Perfect for BTS.

Narrowing his eyes, he mutters a string of curse words under his breath for the 7th time that morning.

Then he got the call. That there was an urgent meeting for BTS to attend. A meeting that would affect the future of the company.

Running his hands through his hair, he tries to refrain himself from punching the car window out.

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?!" He screams in aggravation, causing the driver on the other side of the partition to jump, startled. Not paying any mind to the driver currently struggling to restart his heart, Yoongi sighs, positioning himself on the seat so that he's comfortably lying down. Looking up at the ceiling with his soft, sparkling eyes, he tries to calm down. See things in a brighter light, try not to care so much. It's just...things are so frustrating to him.

All.

The.

Time.

Raising his hand to cover his eyes, he tries to remember a time when things had been so hard. He remembers training, debut, remembers the struggles of rising to the top, remembers injuries, exhaustion, remembers quarantine and tireless motivation…

Each moment seemed worse than the last. Every time they conquered a new struggle, another presented itself. As though they were walking down a road filled with multiple storms. A road that was destined to tear them apart, scatter them and leave them for dead.

Suga didn't think it would be so hard to leave. They were only gone for 2 years and yet by the time they got back it was almost as though the world had either forgotten about them, replaced them, or turned against them. Smiling bitterly, he raises his dark eyes to the ceiling once more, his hand curling into a fist at his side.

"You really fooled us didn't you...?" He mutters, his voice soft, but cold. Shivering with forgotten remorse. His hand rests itself safely over his eyes, shielding himself from the world. Trying so hard not to lose himself, he fights back the tears, barely able to struggle out the one word he's been holding back for so long.

"ARMY…"

Closing his eyes, he fails to catch one solo tear that falls, trailing a lonesome streak of wet painful memories across his soft ivory cheek.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the drive to the studio, choosing instead to block everything out and focus on releasing the dark cloud shrouding his mind. He’s learned how to deal with the pain, how to erase it, ease it safely and securely back into the inner corners of his mind...his heart. It's an endless procedure, falling and picking the pieces back up again. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times he may lock them away...they always come back, stronger and worse than before.

At least he’s learned to keep it inside.

At least he can safely hide.

And pretend everything is alright.

As the car pulls to a stop, Yoongi seriously considers skipping the meeting and staying home. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel like crap. Maybe then he’ll be able to forget...at least for a while. However, as soon as the car pulls up, the driver immediately opens the door and cuts the ignition. Yoongi groans from the back seat, glaring up at the ceiling just as his driver opens his door, and nervously waits for him to exit.

Muttering under his breath about how some people are such pussies nowadays, Yoongi reluctantly sits up, gathers his things and exits the car. Paying no mind to the nervous driver, he stares up at his company building. His face hidden in a shadow, he bites his bottom lip, his hand clenching around the strap to his backpack.

Since when has he regretted coming here?

Since when was he afraid to see what may lie on the other side?

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, he groans, the dark cloud surrounding him only growing. Today’s just a bad day, he really needs to pull himself together. Sighing, he rubs his hand over his face before heading towards the building. Each step seems to weigh him down, blur the world around him, bring him further and further into his mind.

A dark mess of music notes and compositions.

Of torrents of pain and broken promises.

Of hidden fears and memories.

The mind of a man past his breaking point.

But then he hears the voice.

“Yoongi!”

Just as he’s opening the door to the building, it calls out from right behind him. That one voice...that one sweet cacophony holding brotherhood and love, is enough to draw him back to reality. It’s enough to break the hold the darkness had had on him. Smiling softly to himself, he turns and meets his eyes with a soft steady look of his own.

“Hoseok.”

Jhope smiles broadly at the mention of his name, and finishes running across the distance to his hyung. Clapping his hand around his shoulder he chuckles a bit as they walk together inside. Yoongi smiles at him a bit, but looks away before Jhope could notice.

If he was being honest, any one of his members have the same effect on him. Every one of them...the hidden parts to the family they have struggled so hard to build...they make everything okay. They make everything worth it.

If Yoongi were to suffer…

Then it would be okay.

As long as it was all for them.

“Hyung, why do you think PD-nim wanted us here this early?” Hoseok asks, breaking his hold on his friend in order to stretch as he yawns. Yoongi doesn’t answer, brooding a bit over how his work got interrupted once more. First it was Namjoon, over a stupid assistant, now its Bang Sihyuk?

“Whatever it is, I hope he has a good reason for interrupting me.” Yoongi mutters darkly under his breath, startling Jhope a bit. Jhope flinches, and noticing the change in Yoongi’s mood, steps away a small distance, chuckling nervously.

“Were you working on something important?” he asks as they walk inside the elevator, headed to the office on the top floor. Yoongi scoffs as he presses the button and the elevator doors close.

“I sure hope it was. It was for our new album, which is due no less than a few months from now! Namjoon and I still haven’t even gotten the beat down for the title track...and now this?! What could possibly be more important?” Yoongi sighs, collapsing against the cool metal walls against the elevator. Cold and indifferent, he stares at his warped expression in them, wondering if that’s enough to protect himself.

But...

What does he need to protect himself from?

Jhope regards Suga with a soft look, almost pitiful. He’s found that when he gets like this, sometimes it’s just best to leave him be, to let him work it out on his own. But right now…

Is this really the best way to solve things?

The look on Yoongi’s face is familiar, and yet different from all those times before.

Hoseok finds that he can't read it, he doesn’t recognize it. Something about that…

Scares him.

As the elevator dings, and Yoongi immediately steps out into the hallway, it takes Jhope a moment to follow suit. Silent, he watches the back of Yoongi, trying hard to understand him, figure out what’s going on with him. It frustrates him that right now, when he needs him most is when Jhope has no idea how to help him.

Can he help him?

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks at his feet as they make their way to the meeting room. He knows that ever since they were separated, ever since the military enlistment, no one has been the same. Once beloved by the world, they found themselves facing the fear of being forgotten. Of entering a world where no one cares about who you are...only how strong you can be. An honorable service, but a taxing one, something that would change a person.

And so it has changed Bangtan.

For Yoongi, it drove him further into himself. Into the depression of darkness he had tried so hard to avoid. Without his sources of light, without that grasp on hope he had before...he found everything fading away. He found himself fading away.

How easy is it to find yourself again?

How easy is it to turn everything back to how it was before?

For anyone who knows...it’s near impossible.

So he’s trying, he’s trying his hardest to turn it into something that he can live with. Into a strength he can look back on and say he grew from. Another obstacle that he has defeated in his pathetic excuse he calls a life…

But what can he do right now?

Except fall deeper and deeper into the darkness which becomes so alluring to him. He finds himself longing for it, he finds himself wishing to end it...because what is he fighting for anyway? He already reached the top...and now he has to make his way back up again? What is that supposed to mean to him? How is he supposed to deal with that?

They said they would stay with them.

They said they would wait for them.

But they lied.

They moved on, they forgot.

Was everything they ever did…

Did everything mean nothing to them?

Entering the meeting room the pair of them are greeted by noise. The familiar noise of joy and laughter Bangtan carries with them everywhere, just happy being with the other...no matter how many hardships they may face nor how much the darkness may cloud each of their minds...as long as they're together, nothing else matters. Yoongi can’t help it…

He smiles.

It happens on its own accord, without warning. It's just...seeing them, seeing how happy they are despite everything makes him feel a bit of happiness, a little ray of joy, a little speck of pride and amongst them all he finds what he’s been looking for all along.

Hope.

The one thing stronger than his fear.

“Yoongi! And Hobi hyung! You guys made it!” Jimin practically barrels into Yoongi as Jhope closes the door behind the two of them. Laughing like a maniac, Jimin squeezes Suga so tightly that it's hard for him to pry him off.

“Seriously Jimin, you saw me just yesterday, you act as though it’s been years.” Suga sighs, placing his backpack in one of the many chairs in the meeting room as Jimin pouts. Jhope chuckles at his expression, rubbing his hair affectionately before following suit.

“It feels like it’s been years! Have you forgotten that we only got back a few weeks ago? I’ve missed our hugs--” Yoongi places his hand expertly on Jimin’s face, stopping him as he moves in for another hug. Growling, Jimin gives him a glare and Suga raises his eyebrow.

“What was our deal about hugs?” Jimin pulls away at the ultimatum and dramatically deflates into the chair next to Yoongi as he sarcastically recites the “deal”, deepening his voice and flattening it as much as he can in order to match Suga’s.

“One free hug a day...any other extra will cost you.” While Suga rolls his eyes, he can’t help but crack a smile as everyone else in the room laughs along and Jimin sits up in the chair, chuckling to himself at his great impersonation. Well...great in his eyes. Shaking his head, Yoongi looks around at the room, smiling at the familiar faces he finds meeting his own.

There’s Jin, who hasn’t stopped laughing, his unique laughter carrying through the room, half hurting everyone’s ears, and half bringing them joy and happiness. Yoongi always forgets that it’s actually possible to miss that strange windshield laugh.

There’s Taehyung who sits next to Jin and rolls his eyes a bit at how hard he’s laughing, before chuckling softly to himself in quiet happiness. Yoongi still can’t believe that there was ever a time he didn’t cherish Tae as much as he does now.

There’s Hobi who has just settled into a chair right next to Yoongi and laughs that contagious laugh that strikes hope and joy into even the darkest of hearts. Suga still remembers when that laugh first entered his life.

There’s Jimin who has just tackled Suga into another hug before dancing away and laughing almost manically. Yoongi lets him off the hook, smiling softly to himself because if he were being really honest...he would want those hugs every day of his life.

Then there’s Namjoon, the one who watches over them all, a small but distant smile present on his face. As Yoongi raises his eyes to him, he can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia.

His first friend.

His best friend.

Perhaps the only one who could understand him and yet…

He always seems so far away.

Namjoon, as though feeling Suga’s gaze on him, slowly flickers his eyes over to him and is startled by what he finds.

He sees the darkness shrouding his dear friend's mind. He sees the cry for help. His heart pounding with worry and trepidation, he bravely meets Suga’s deep conflicted eyes and tries to pick them apart, solve them as though they were a problem only he could untangle. He hasn’t seen this face for so long, he hasn’t seen this kind of fear in his friend before. His chest constricting, he almost wants to hold onto Yoongi and hold him tight in his arms until he makes everything better.

As though it were his job to make everything better.

His brow crinkling with concern, he opens his mouth in order to address him, but an outburst from Taehyung who is looking out into the hallway cuts him off and the connection is broken. Yoongi almost immediately looks away, leaving Namjoon to continue to stare at him, in deep thought.

"Where's Jungkookie? Why is he so late?" Tae is asking as he leans back in his chair to stare out the see-through glass that encases them inside the meeting room. Jimin, coming up behind Tae, almost makes him fall as he pushes the chair down so that Tae meets his eye.

"Wha…" Taehyung begins but Jimin cuts him off.

"That's rich coming from you Mr. MickeyD." Jimin snorts at the reference to the soaked bags Tae brought as a peace offering yesterday, before letting go of his chair and leaving Taehyung to teeter slowly to a stop. Jin, picking up on the let's tease Taehyung memo nods and leans forward in his chair as though invested in the conversation.

"Yeah, where were you yesterday? You took an hour to get here TaeTae…" he coos, reaching forward to touch his hand but Tae pulls away grimacing. Jin laughs before pulling away and Namjoon rolls his eyes, ignoring the small smirk growing on his face.

"Stop it guys, he was helping Yen, my new assistant manager." Namjoon explains as he pulls out his phone to check any new notifications. "She fell during the afternoon rush in the lobby yesterday and hurt her ankle. Tae was helping her to the hospital. That's why she's not coming in today."

At that comment, Jimin's face goes a bit cold, and he glances at Tae in the corner of his eye. Tae nods frantically in agreement to Namjoon's statement almost as if he were clearing his name, and Jimin can't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Tae used to tell him everything…

So why does Namjoon know this and he doesn't?

It wasn't that hard to explain...he would have understood...so why?

Why couldn't Taehyung talk to him instead of having to turn to RM?

Tae swallows hard to see if they all believe him, his heart pounding a bit fiercely in his chest. That was partly the truth...but Namjoon doesn't know the whole story. Nervously glancing at Namjoon in the corner of his eye, he can't help but fidget a bit.

The only way he was able to keep Yen home was to get the all clear from RM. And in order to do that...he had to tell him that you were hurt. And so that's exactly what he did...it just wasn't entirely the truth.

Looking down at his hands, he holds them tightly, faintly remembering how your hands felt in them. If he told Namjoon about what happened, who knows what he would have thought? Besides, Taehyung doesn’t want to tell anyone about that day. He doesn’t know why, he has nothing to hide but…

It's almost as if he mentions it to someone else…

It’ll become theirs and not his.

“In any case, we’ve been waiting long enough...where’s BangPD anyway?” Suga wonders quietly, not bothering to hide the frustration in his tone.

“Good morning to you too, Yoongi.” At the voice, the 6 of them freeze, and slowly turn toward the door, which was closed once before, but now occupies three significant figures. Suga tries hard not to wince, but as he meets BangPD’s dark eyes, he can’t help it. The other members seem to shrink due to the tension rising in the room as the door closes behind the newcomers. This isn’t exactly a situation they would like to be present for.

“Jungkook!” Jhope cries as he scans the three faces, and sure enough there he is standing attentively behind BangPD. He smiles a bit as Jhope calls his name, and waves to them but when BangPD walks into the room, Jungkook follows closely behind. The third figure, a tall and slender woman, closes the door behind them.

Namjoon glances towards her a bit curiously, trying to place where he may have seen her before. As she sits in a chair near to the door, a reasonable distance from the rest of the others, she glances towards him as well. As their eyes meet, Namjoon barely has time to notice the small flecks of gold circling in her brown eyes before she looks quickly away. Raising his eyebrow, he shrugs before turning to BangPD who is setting down a few papers and documents in the head chair of the meeting room.

“Sir, what exactly is going on? Why did you ask Jungkook to text us all to meet here? Is it something to do with the album?” BangPD smiles at Namjoon’s quick wit as the rest of the members glance at each other a bit confused. He’s the only one who figured out that BangPD was the one behind that strange text last night. Sitting down, BangPD meets Namjoon’s stern but curious eyes, trying to pick apart the complexity hidden behind their depths.

“The reason is simple. We needed to confer with you 7 as shareholders in the company.” Taehyung sits up from his once relaxed position at the sentence, turning attentively towards BangPD-nim. He glances toward Jungkook to try and read his expression, but Jungkoook avoids his gaze. What exactly are the two of them planning?

BangPD nods to the woman sitting attentively in the back and she nods back, pulling out a computer and walking to the head of the table. She opens it and begins connecting it to the stereo system. Yoongi crinkles his brow at the curious setup. Once the woman is finished, she nods toward BangPD before heading back to her seat next to the door.

“Before we can do that however...there’s something you need to hear.”

With that, BangPD presses play and once more...your voice fills the room.

It instills a hush over each of them. Each one of them, even the woman in the back, is visibly affected by the emotion in your voice. The soulful pain that you carry through each note you sing takes them to a world which only they can see; drives them to emotions they have never felt before.

Jin goes completely still, trying his hardest to hold back the tears which are threatening to spill over and wet his cheeks. He wants to hurt whoever made you feel this way. Whoever made you sing like this...as though you were crying out for help.

Jhope’s expression is blank, completely out of character for him. But he can't help it. At the sound of your voice, he is unable to keep the mask up for any longer. It falls, shows everything underneath, shows what he really hides behind his smile. He can hardly feel it as the single tear runs down his cheek.

It takes all Jimin has not to break down into tears right then and there. He stares at the computer as though that would help him reach you. Help him to erase the pain that has affected you deep inside. As though he could erase in you what he could never erase in himself.

Yoongi has closed his eyes, leaning his head back in the chair he sits in. As though if he were to open them, the voice would disappear and the beauty he sees behind his eyes would go with it. As though it's the only anchor keeping him from completely fading away.

Namjoon finds himself searching through his mind, trying to figure out where he’s heard this voice before. Where he’s felt this kind of pain, this deep level of sadness and insecurity. Trying to remember why he can find some familiarity in it. Why he feels as though he’s home and safe.

Taehyung is petrified. He’s heard this voice before. He has it saved safely in his pocket at this very moment. He helped the owner of this voice home the other day. He can still feel her touch on his skin.

Frantically, he glances toward Jungkook once more. How was he able to get this recording? Was he there? And if he was…

Then was that moment Taehyung shared, that one break in time where he could only see you, that one moment where he knew, he just knew that you were perhaps the only one who could truly understand him…

When he couldn’t understand himself…

Did it mean nothing at all?

Jungkook smiles to himself now as he sees the room which is alight with your voice. As he sees the way they change, the way they are affected, how it seems as though they have been healed with the sound, the beautiful world which your voice brings to each one of them. When he sees the way your voice alights in them a new fire, a new flame unable to be doused, he sees the true purpose behind your voice behind you.

A light that was meant to be shared.

As the song ends, though he’s sad to see it go, this time he’s sure that he’ll hear it again.

That he’ll hear you again.

In the silence, the ones who remain have a hard time coming back to themselves. It's as though they are wandering in the dark, now that the world they were able to see has disappeared. Almost as though they had forgotten how to live, how to breathe without that utopia in their mind.

But the main thing is that suddenly, all at once…

They felt as though they had been healed.

Even if it was only for a moment.

“Her name is Yen.” BangPD’s voice breaks through the fragile silence, catching everyone’s attention, including Jungkook. Clearing his throat, Bang Sihyuk opens your file, passing it forward on the table. Everyone is able to see your ID picture, where you were born, your current number, your family members, your current address...even your social security number. It’s all there, for each of them to see and to immediately know…

“She has recently been hired as Namjoon’s assistant in Jaejin’s absence.” BangPD explains, but this is something they already know. They share a look with each other, recognizing that this is the same girl who brought a smile on their face yesterday.

“Now that you have heard her voice, let’s get down to business.”

The same girl who was hours late for her first day.

“The real reason I called you all here is because we need to make a decision.”

The same girl who turned Namjoon into a frantic mess.

“A choice that may make or break this company.”

The same girl who turned Jungkook into a dumbstruck teenage boy.

“A choice that involves this voice, that involves Yen.”

The same girl who helped Taehyung find himself...even for a little while.

“As shareholders for this company this affects each and every one of you.”

Though the rest may not have met you...they all saw the picture.

“I called you here today to ask you…”

They saw in you the same charming girl that everyone else had seen throughout the day.

“If the 7 of you would agree to signing this girl on as a trainee for our company.”

The one behind this voice.

Is the same girl who tried to stuff an entire bowl of salad in her face.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: crazy crazy

chapter 23 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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horribletestsubject · 4 years ago

Text

Fic I just wrote based on These Two art pieces that I’ve drawn and THIS POST by @body-utensil-travels-terrain

———

You’ve spent your life being told you couldn’t. Now there’s a voice telling you that you can.

You remember it distinctly. You were fourteen at the time, just really starting to figure out what you wanted to do with your life (it certainly isn’t what society expected from you— but then, society doesn’t expect someone like you anyway, does it?) when you first heard her voice over the radio in your living room. The words she said resonated with you, the promise and ambition that she spoke with. It was almost like she was talking directly to you.

You do your research. You study hard. You tinker away at things in your garage, supplementing your studies in your own way. And five years later, after you’ve graduated, you put in your application.

A letter arrives a few weeks later, emblazoned with the circular symbol you’ve kept in your mind’s eye all this time, and bold lettering on the front— Aperture Science Innovators. It’s addressed to you. You open it, and your fingers tighten around the smooth paper— “congratulations” it says. You’ve been accepted. At the bottom is Her signature. You trace over it with your fingers. Delicately, as gently as you’d handle an irreplaceable machine part.

Two weeks later your bags are packed and you’re boarding a flight to Detroit. The attendant greets you. You hold up your boarding pass and get on. You land a few hours later. Getting a cab would be too complicated— people don’t like to take the time to read, and most can’t speak the way you do. So you walk to the train station, it’s not too far. Just an hour or two. You’ve walked further before.

Flat fields flow by endlessly as the train rattles down its tracks. You lean your head against the window, watching the hues of gold rush by, blurring on into infinity.

The sun is gone when you pull up outside a strange little town, surrounded by chain link fence. You fish through your bag for the packet you’d been sent— and pull out the temporary ID you’d been given. You show it to the gate guard. He lets you in. A man is waiting to show you your dormitory. You shake your head at his offer of a tour— you’ll explore the place yourself tomorrow. There are a few days before you’re actually needed for orientation.

The room is small and plain. A bed, desk, and dresser, and a small closet. That’s alright. You don’t need much. You hang up your few articles of clothing and tuck your shoes next to the door. The bed isn’t soft, but it isn’t hard. You fall asleep quickly, exhausted from your travels.

The next few days are spent wandering. Visiting the little shops, the stations. Peering into labs where you can. Climbing over fences (they could never keep you out) before quickly retreating as a security guard passed. You don’t want to get in trouble before your internship even begins. You wonder if you’ll see her. But you only hear her voice in announcements as you trigger motion sensors throughout the complex.

When work actually starts, it’s tedious. Getting coffee. Taking documents to the shredder and the incinerator. You don’t usually see the labs. Or, well, much of anything. It’s just a lot of running here and there, back and forth at your superiors’ beck and call. It’s tiring. But you do it— after all, you want to be here, you want to do this— and you never give up.

It’s a few months before you see her— before your internship takes you to the main complex. Now you’re checking inventory, sorting mail, sorting records (and chucking the casualty lists into the incinerator as instructed). Occasionally they’ll call you in to fix the coffee maker or the refrigerator.

You hear her voice once, muffled— she’s talking to someone, to a group it seems, just outside the room you’re in. You look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse. Rosy cheeks and bright-red lips, wavy dark hair flowing around her shoulder, a smile on her face (manufactured, you can tell with just this glance that she’s concealing so very much), a bright red scarf tied around her neck.

Your eyes lock for just a second, and the corner of her mouth creases, dimpling her cheeks. Your heart races— that, that was a hint of a true smile. Warmth flushes your own cheeks and you tear your gaze away. Suddenly shy— much shyer than you’ve ever been before.

It doesn’t make sense to you. Not yet. Not until you start seeing her more. Not until her smiles become more frequent and pointed. Not until her gaze lingers on you a little longer than before each time. The fluttery feeling doesn’t go away— and you’re determined more than ever to reach her.

Of course, it happens sooner and easier than you think. She starts requesting you specifically to bring her her coffee. You take a red pen and draw a little smiley face next to her name before giving it to her. When you come up to her office, there’s a sticky note left on the monitor, in that oh-so-hard to read yet absolutely beautiful cursive of hers. At the end of it is a smiley face, so much more elegant and less childish than yours. You keep the note. On her next cup, you add a heart to the dot of the ‘i’ in her name. You start responding to her notes with little notes of your own, your rounded, sometimes scratchy handwriting a stark contrast.

The notes are never there when you get back. You like to think she kept them. You’re pretty sure she did.

A year after you arrive, your internship is over, and you’re up for a promotion— junior mechanic. Probably still more of the same, but you’ll be getting a salary now (not that you really have any use for it since Aperture provides your housing) and you’ll have a permanent place. But you’ll see her less. You’ll miss that, of course— but you’re finally moving beyond your station, moving up in the company.

The day before your internship ends, you get another note. “Wanna get coffee together tomorrow?” Your heart leaps. You scribble out your answer just beneath her writing.

You’re sitting across from her at the cafe table. The cafe serves the same stuff as the cafeteria, but it’s decorated more quaintly, and always costs more for some reason. Maybe because there’s sunlight coming through the windows.

“So, headed up the ladder,” she begins after the two of you sip your drinks (well, she sips her drink, you’re too caught up in the crimson of her lips). “I guess I won’t be seeing as much of you now.”

There’s something behind her cheery voice, a sadness that you’ve caught glimpses of before, a wistfulness deeper than her words. You look up, catching her gaze for a moment and nod in response.

“Well, this is nice. Maybe we should do this more often. Once a week, at least? Or you could come over to my place. We could spend time together. As friends, or something.” With that, she gives you a wink. Your cheeks flush bright red.

You catch the implication right away. Your hero, your inspiration— and now here you are sitting across from her at a cafe while she all but outright asks you out.

You thought you’d be excited for things to grow beyond the notes and the gestures. But you feel different than that. After the initial jolt, the initial flutter, you look back over at her and you see the chasm yawning out between the two of you. The mountain she’s perched on, the valley you’re standing in. Your scratchy print against her elegant cursive, your short, bitten nails against her sharp manicure, your messy ponytail against her shiny waves. You look down at your simple intern’s badge, then over at her emblazoned one. She doesn’t even have a title listed— everyone knows who she is.

You’re miles apart, even if you might have seemed to be closer.

You stand up, your throat knotting up as you shake your head. You can’t look at her now, but you can practically feel the disappointment in her face as she murmurs “oh.” You want to explain but you can’t, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. The last thing you want is to turn Her, your idol, the one who makes your heart flutter, the reason you came here in the first place, down.

But you can’t do this now. Not yet. Not until you’ve reached the top of the mountain. Not until you’re close enough for her to reach out her hand and pull you the rest of the way up.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” she says.

You pause, halfway to the door. You turn back just enough so that you can glimpse her, and give a tiny nod.

After that you throw yourself into your work. Up to senior mechanic, then technician, then engineer— you’re working on Aperture’s new technology now, its most important projects. But you’re still not close enough. Into the test chambers you go at the CEO’s behest, defying death and physics at breakneck speeds, trusting in the tech you’ve helped create to ensure your survival.

Sometimes you look up and see her watching from the observation room, the tell-tale flash of red. You don’t look too long.

The CEO falls ill. He leaves a disturbing message. You try not to think too much of it— you’re almost there.

Your superior fails a test. You’re not surprised. Not hurt, not sad. It just happens and now you’re in the upper echelon. Now you’re at the top— now, you can reach out to her again. Tell her you’ve changed your mind. You can be equals now.

You go to her office. She isn’t there to answer the door. “Don’t you remember Mr. Johnson’s last request?” They say to you. You tried to block it out, but you remember.

You use your pass on a high security door. It opens. Your name is emblazoned too now. Just like hers was.

Before you is a massive operating system. On the screen reads a message: “transfer complete. transfer successful. writing data : do not disconnect subject.”

She’s lying inside a tube-like compartment. A transparent coffin. Wires hooked up to her. Eyes closed. Lips still ruby red.

You reach out and touch the glass. There’s no response. There won’t be a response.

This technology is untested. This is the first human-AI interfacing project Aperture has conducted. There’s only a fifty percent chance it will work, and even if it does, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s gone. You’ll never clasp her small hands inside your own calloused ones, tuck your head against her shoulder, press your lips against hers.

You’ve finally reached the top of the mountain. Finally reached her. But it was too late. When you crested the summit, she was already gone, and there was only a spatter of crimson left behind to show that she was ever there at all.

#portal #fanfiction #portal fanfic #portal fanfiction #chell #chell portal #portal chell #caroline portal #portal caroline #chelline #cheroline #chell x caroline #portal au #intern chell #intern chell au #my writing #cinna writes #might edit and post to AO3 at some point #but for now have the rough draft

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Home After Being Away (I’ll Be Home)

Day Seven of the 12 days of Christmas prompts orchestrated by @zelink-prompts

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 a couple years post-caves

It was easy for Link and Zelda to drift off into a sound sleep when enraptured in each other’s arms. They cooed peacefully where they lay, Link’s fingers entangled in Zelda’s shoulder-length blonde hair and his other arm secure around her waist.

Zelda had turned over in her sleep so that her pillow was Link’s warm chest, a habit so common that Link subconsciously wrapped his arms around her. The rising and falling of Link’s chest was a reassurance that, after all these years of being reunited, still relaxed her.

Link was breathing. Link was alive. Link wasn’t passed out in Blatchery Plains with no discernible sign of life. Link, her love, was right here and he was alive.

And thus the couple slept soundly, even as an intruder crept into the house like a dark shadow, careful to make no creak as the mysterious figure snuck up to the loft.

In the larger bed was, of course, Link and Zelda, yet the dark, sinister figure instead focused on the two tiny cribs by the window, the small bundles of life that slept just as soundly as their parents.

With a slither, a vicious sickle was unsheathed from it’s hilt, glimmering in the moonlight. The masked figure showed no mercy as he prepared to cut the newborn’s life short, and consequently move on to his twin sister.

The baby on the right stirred and, somehow sensing the threat to his life, awoke with screaming cries.

Link woke immediately, his eyelids peeling apart with reluctance before he sat up slowly. Yet as soon as he saw the Yiga hovering over his son’s crib, Link’s eyes widened and his heart lurched with panic.

“Hey!” He exclaimed as he lunged towards the Yiga, grabbing the sword by the bed. “Get away from my son!”

The clang of the sword meeting the vicious sickle woke Zelda, and yet she stirred much more gradually.

“Link,” she asked, half-asleep as Link battled the Yiga, crossing blades as Link forced the Yiga foot soldier downstairs and away from laying a hand on his children.

Zelda opened her eyes slowly, realizing Link’s warmth was in the blankets she clutched and yet he was nowhere to be found, Zelda only seeing her own hand glide along the soft covers.

“Link?” She asked again with a creased brow, sitting up slowly and finally hearing the clamor of weaponry downstairs.

“Link!” She exclaimed as she hurried downstairs, her flowy white nightgown drifting smoothly and elegantly as she did. Link afforded a quick glance at Zelda as she neared the bottom of the stairs.

“Stay back!” He exclaimed, pushing back the Yiga before attempting a horizontal slice, but the Yiga disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Link looked around himself desperately for a reappearance when he heard the window of the loft completely shatter.

Both Link and Zelda were alerted by the troubling noise, rushing up the stairs to see no Yiga Clan member in sight and yet their daughter was nowhere to be found either.

Zelda was on the verge of a panic attack, her chest heaving as she nearly crashed into the desk behind her.

Link in contrast was on the verge of tears, fisting the hilt of his sword until it turned white. He soon realized he didn’t even have the time for his anger.

He quickly strapped on the sheath to his sword, securing the buckle and ties with fingers that moved so fast that they were messing up, but Link didn’t care to do it neatly.

Link picked up his infant son quickly and approached Zelda, whose gaze was a million miles away with panic.

“Zelda,” Link insisted. “Zelda, look at me. We don’t have time for this.”

He placed their son in her arms, Zelda not quite over her shock but holding him securely. Link placed a hand on her cheek.

“Take Elyjah and run as fast as you can to Fort Hateno,” Link said. “The soldiers there will protect you as you head to Kakariko. You will be safer there.”

Link gave her a quick peck on the lips as she nodded.

“I’ll get her back,” he said. “I promise.”

And before Zelda knew it, Link was a cloud of dust, darting out of their Hateno home in pursuit of the Yiga Clan member who meant to harm his daughter for her blood, that shared the blood of the hero and the blood of the goddess incarnate, and would surely reanimate Calamity Ganon with twice the speed.

Or worse, the Yiga Clan meant to avenge their former Master Kohga by killing the daughter of his “murderer”.

——————————————————————————————————

Link kept up his frantic run across the width of Hyrule, constantly on the Yiga’s tail at such a distance that the Yiga had only time to run with the infant. By this point, the Yiga Clan knew that crossing blades with Hyrule’s hero meant that they would likely never cross blades with anyone ever again. Over the years, they made innumerable attempts to assassinate Zelda, who carried the blood of the royal family of the former kingdom of Hyrule, or Link, who not only killed Master Kohga but, as increasing evidence suggested, was to marry Zelda and father children who also carried the blood of the royal family. Those attempts, however, failed again and again, Link being too great of a swordsman for the Yiga Clan to get anywhere near either them.

Tired of losing men and frankly at a loss, the Yiga Clan stopped. However, once spies confirmed that the former princess was indeed pregnant with twins, the Yiga Clan decided to wait until they were born. Once that occurred, and once Link and Zelda felt safe enough to let their guard down, the Yiga Clan would assassinate the infants. Only three weeks old, their lives were already in danger.

And thus Link chased the Yiga who held his daughter all the way to their hideout in Gerudo Desert. He only got to the first circular room before he was surrounded by Yiga archers, arrows drawn and ready to release.

The Yiga foot soldier handed the bundle to a blademaster who stood across the room from Link. Link quelled the jolt of fear in his heart that came from seeing his daughter held by them and instead clenched his fingers tighter around the hilt of his sword.

He moved his arm in order to ready his sword for an attack, but he only heard the creak of bending arrows.

Link took the auditory sign of threat seriously, sheathing his sword against his better judgement of his capabilities. Taking on all these Yiga was a type of chaos that would be messy, and thus too risky when his daughter was in the same room. Although Hyrule’s hero could take them on any day, creating a massacre and fighting with a sword in one hand and baby in the other arm was probably not the best idea. Link thought perhaps that was not this day, nor any day to come.

“Wait,” Link said as they were about to harm his daughter right in front of him, holding out his hands palm first. The Yiga turned their attention to him. “Hold on,” Link pleaded, as slowly and calmly as he could. “Please. Let’s just talk this out. I’ll give you anything for her safety. I’ll even give you my life.”

“We’re listening.”

“Kill me,” Link implored desparately. “Right here. Right now. I won’t put up a fight. You just have to promise to return her safely to my wife in Kakariko Village.”

“You would trust us to do that?” The blademaster asked, slightly surprised.

“You are still people,” Link reasoned, his arms lowering to hang by his sides. “I don’t see why you couldn’t be reasoned with.” Link gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m honestly depending on it.”

“Enough of this!” Another Yiga said, stepping forward. “Hylians don’t care about us! It’s a trick! He killed our Master and so many others. He saved Hyrule. I bet he’s leading us right into an ambush.”

“It’s not a trick,” Link said with shakes of his head. “It was only ever out of self-defense that I hurt your clan. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone so far, but please let my wife and children live on. Zelda has already abdicated the throne. The kingdom of Hyrule is no more. Whatever grudge there is between us can be settled with my death at your hands.”

There was a silence that paused the conversation, a tentative silence that Link feared more and more. The chances were very slim that Link would get out of this, and yet he feared more for the tiny bundle in the enemy’s arms.

“You know not of the grudge you wish to settle,” the Yiga Blademaster said. “And yet you would give up your life to settle it. All to save your offspring.”

Link’s brow furrowed. Was this about more than just Master Kohga?

But Link was even more surprised at the Yiga’s first instance of mercy, the Blademaser walking forward slowly and gently returning the baby to Link’s arms. Link breathed a shaky sigh of relief feeling the warmth and yet did not understand the gesture. He looked up at the Blademaster.

“We know you could have taken us even with our archers at the ready,” the Blademaster said. “It is obvious you hold no ill will towards us. You only want your offspring safe and to live on past what was once the kingdom of Hyrule. Is this correct?”

Link nodded, slightly afraid of this odd behavior.

“Then go and live,” the Blademaster said, Link’s lips parted. “We will not threaten your family any longer.”

But Link didn’t move, although in the back of his mind he thought he perhaps should have, should have gotten out before they changed their mind. The Blademaster had already turned around to head back into the hub of the Yiga Clan hideout.

“I don’t understand,” Link said, the Blademaster stopping in his tracks. “After all these years, you show me mercy in return for mine, but…how does that so suddenly erase your bloodlust? And how can your grudge have nothing to do with me if…if you tried to kill Zelda and I for years?”

“We assumed you were like your ancestors,” the Blademaster answered. “That you would villianize us and see us as a threat. You swore fealty to the kingdom that ruined us. That was enough for us to seek you out. We had to protect ourselves.”

“My ancestors?” Link asked. “What are you talking about?”

Another silence fell and Link started to regret asking the question. Had he pushed too far? Would they be angered?

“There is a tale among Hyruleans,” the Blademaster started. “Of when Sheikah technology was successful in defending the kingdom from Calamity Ganon. I gather you know it well. How did the story end?”

“The princess and the hero sealed away Calamity Ganon,” Link answered. “Because of the protection of the Divine Beasts and the Guardians. The calamity didn’t return for ten thousand years.”

The Blademaster gave a small laugh.

“Easy to write a happy ending when you are the victor,” he said. “But it seems Hyrule was too cowardly to truly detail what happened in the end.”

“Was Calamity Ganon not sealed?” Link asked.

“Calamity Ganon was sealed,” the Blademaster said. “Just as you described. Because of that, Hyrule saw a great era of prosperity. Sheikah technology was blooming and the Sheikah were very proud of their usefulness.”

“One day,” he continued. “Divine Beast Vah Naboris misfired. Because it was aimed at the castle, it devastated a portion of it, and killed the Queen. The King was furious and blamed the Sheikah. He banned all Sheikah technology, ordered everything to be buried and forgotten. The Sheikah were to make do in a small village to the east, in fact, soldiers forced them there. If any Sheikah refused these orders, they were imprisoned, some even put to death. And the Hylians, your ancestors, simply let it happen. Some Sheikah, knowing these dangers and angry against the royal family for their misplaced blame and their foolishness, disbanded completely, flocking to Gerudo Desert. You see, hero, the Yiga Clan are the descendants of those Sheikah, with every generation growing to hate the royal family more and more. For ten thousand years we have been festering, threatening each new member of the Royal Family.”

The Blademaster turned around to face Link.

“It’s easy to find someone new to blame,” the Blademaster said. “It took me until now to realize that we are just like that King and that you just want to move on. I think it’s time we do too.”

The Blademaster walked forward and as he did, he took of his red and white mask, Link’s eyebrows showing his surprise.

The man was likely in his late forties, his eyes sunken with fatigue, shadowed by the mask strapped to him his entire life. Link saw the rest of the Yiga do the same, as if on his command, even the younger ones looking incredibly tired, dulled red eyes and, upon removing their hoods, heads completely shaven.

“To moving on,” Link said offering his hand forward, his baby safe in the nook of his other elbow.

“To moving on,” the Blademaster repeated, shaking Link’s hand.

——————————————————————————————————

“What’s his name again?” Paya asked, smiling down at the little baby boy.

“Elyjah,” Zelda answered, and yet she didn’t look away from the hill leading down to the Dueling Peaks stable. Paya often tried to convince her to come in for a break, but Zelda had insisted on being ready for the very moment Link arrived ever since she did.

Paya looked up from the baby she held, concern etching upon her face at the way Zelda looked desperately at the road that lead outside the village.

“He’s going to be okay,” Paya assured her. “They’ll both be back safe and sound.”

Zelda shook her head as she looked over to Paya.

“I should have gone with him,” Zelda said. “I don’t know how much longer I can—”

Zelda’s voice broke as she began to cry, her hand going to her mouth and her eyelids clasping. Paya immediately embraced her with her free arm.

“There there,” Paya said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Why is he taking so long?” Zelda blubbered. “It’s been days. What if he’s hurt? What if…”

Her words trailed away as she sobbed into Paya’s shoulder more, the Sheikah giving a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she said in a soothing voice. “You can just cry. That’s all you have to do right now. Just stay right here with me and cry.”

And yet the baby boy took the advice instead, starting to wail himself. Zelda’s crying turned into a chuckle as she withdrew, taking her son into her own arms and soothing him with a soft finger on his cheek and tears rolling down hers. Zelda gently bobbed him until he quieted down.

“He’s hungry again,” Zelda said, looking to exterior of Kakariko once more. “Wendie must be starving.”

Paya inhaled to assure Zelda that Link could likely purchase milk on the road, but Zelda interrupted her.

“I’ll feed him inside,” Zelda said as she headed back into Kakariko, Paya nodding before following Zelda’s stride.

“He has your eyes,” Paya said. “Green, as bright as yours.”

“Yes,” Zelda said looking down with a proud smile and a slight laugh. “Wendie got Link’s blue eyes. It really has been quite the miracle. I never thought it would come to this.”

“Come to what?”

Zelda lifted her gaze to Paya.

“Let’s just say that when I was sixteen, I didn’t like my knight attendant very much. If you told me back then that we would end up married with children in a small house in Hateno, I wouldn’t have believed it. I—“

Zelda was suddenly distracted by a skirmish they were approaching in the middle of Kakariko. Upon seeing Link’s horse, she took no hesitation running forward.

Link did the same once he saw her, them surging into a deep and desperate exchange of their lips.

“I’m so glad you are okay,” Zelda whispered as she withdrew. “You were taking so long that…”

Zelda’s gaze moved downward, crying tears of joy seeing her daughter Wendie sleeping in Link’s arms.

“Oh goddesses she’s okay.”

“Of course she is,” Link said with a smile. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s rescuing princesses.”

Zelda laughed.

“Link, she’s not a princess. We talked about this.”

“True,” Link said in replied. “But she’ll always be my princess.”

#zelink #zelda #link #twelve days of christmas #coming home after being away #i'll be home #tloz #the legend of zelda #botw #breath of the wild #botw 2 #breath of the wild 2

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