#come back for the first time after three years and the reveal of the untold origins novel being adapted that came with it.

[sskk-manifesto]

And so the big sskk shortage begins (no sskk for the next 15 episodes) (and the sskk episode coming after kind of sucks)

[ginger-grimm]

Hi can you tell me why there is two cinderella's and rapunzel's in ooat? is it a canon plot point or retcon? i only watched the first season.

Oooo, thank you for letting me use my rewatch knowledge to gush about this situation, nonnie!

SPOILERS AHEAD (tho I do recommend finishing the show, at least the first 6, if you ever find the time):

So, throughout the first six seasons, Cinderella (Ashley), played by Jessy Schram, had three more appearances in the universe post-season 1. One very brief one in the Pilot of Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, one in season 4 (The Snow Queen), and her final appearance in the show was in her second and last stand-alone episode in season six, The Other Shoe. Season six was about Untold Stories in the beginning and The Other Shoe details how Tremaine and Ashley's stepsister Clorinda ended up in the Land of Untold Stories and when they get back to Storybrooke, Ashley has to face off against Tremaine. The episode ends with Ashley and Clorinda happy with their respective husband and fiance, and Tremaine being punished for her actions. Therefore, the original Ella's story had a happy ending and was done.

In season seven, essentially a soft reboot of the show, Henry has graduated school and wants to discover other versions of classic stories, most importantly his own, and he ends up meeting Cinderella (now played by Dania Ramirez in a different iteration, from a different Realm) and long story short, they get married and have a kid. Her story is a lot bigger (but strangely she does barely anything in the season at the same time) than original Ella's but I could have done without her entirely. Dania Ramirez did her best but they didn't give her much and I would have rather they made Henry's girlfriend from earlier seasons his wife.

Now Rapunzel (played by Alexandra Metz originally) had one stand-alone episode in season 3 (The Tower), which mostly deviated from the Tangled movie and the original story but still had Rapunzel reunite with her parents again. The Tower was original Rapunzel's one and only appearance in the show.

Now, season seven Rapunzel is a whole other monster. I absolutely despise the direction they took with the character in this new iteration and let me explain why. Her first appearance this season is in the episode entitely "Eloise Gardener", where Meegan Warner plays a much more Tangled version of the character. However, at the end of the episode it is revealed that Rapunzel is not Rapunzel at all and that she is actually Mother Gothel, who pretended to be her to get Wish Realm Hook to impregnate her so she could escape the tower she got locked in and leave her daughter (Wish Realm Alice in Wonderland) to take her place. Real Rapunzel comes back in two episodes later (One Little Tear) and in this episode it is revealed that Rapunzel was actually Lady Tremaine the whole time. She was locked in the tower for stealing vegetables from Gothel, leaving behind her husband and two daughters for years. When she manages to escape from the tower and returns home (guided by the lanterns), she finds her husband remarried to Ella's mother and her younger daughter, Drizella, estranged from her. They all try to make it work for a while but it doesn't for Rapunzel, so she ends up cursing her husband and Ella's mother's hearts which has Ella's mother flee to Wonderland where she is killed by the Jabberwocky and Tremaine ends up killing her husband after Anastasia breaks through ice and Gothel has to preserve her last breath (and therefore her body). Rapunzel is the one who locked Gothel in the tower after Gothel manipulated her into getting rid of Ella's mother and Anastasia's accident.

Present day curse has Victoria (Tremaine) try everything to revive Anastasia as she did in the other realm too and still hating Drizella for being estranged from her all those years ago. Drizella has been playing her own game all along and cursed everyone to Seattle. In the end, Victoria is killed in a sacrifice to revive Lucy (Henry and Ella's daughter) and mother and daughter sort of make up but it's a dumb ending to a dumb plot twist all around.

[chaoshaven]

When I was but a little child I had found in my other bother's collection a books a story.

Tales of Deltora is written by an Australian who's pen name for children's novels is Emily Rodda. This seems like a weird thing to point out, but this collection of stories with monsters and dangers around every corner, seemingly innocent locals hold untold horrors, and, yea, I can see how an Australian wrote this book.

It's written as a collection of fairy tales that are read to the children but in reality, reading these stories in a certain order reveal the true history of the land of Deltora, How the Shadow Lord came to be, and how he was pushed back into the Shadowlands by the first King of Deltora.

And then I found out 10 years later that this is a companion book to a book series called Deltora Quest.

This series starts with the King of Deltora realizing his advisor works for the evil Shadow Lord and the only way to live was to run away. King and Queen run off and give their child to the Blacksmith, his only childhood friend.

16 years later, Lief heads out from home after being given a birthday present (a belt). He is meant to go off on a journey, guarded by Barda, someone who is a renegade castle soldier from the time of the last king. They are meant to head around to the seven territories of Deltora to collect the 7 gems. Only united will these gems of the land be enough to get rid of the Shadow Lord.

Each book focuses on collecitng one of the 7 gems, A topaz, ruby, opal, lapis lazuli, emerald, amethyst, diamond, with the final book being the confrontation against the Shadow Lord. The monsters are great, I loved the puzzles. They find a teen girl, exactly Lief's age, called Jasmine, left in the woods and she lived amongst the forest. Who could the lost child of the king and queen be?

It's Lief, King and Queen switched places with Blacksmith and wife who ran away into the woods, Blacksmith taken to the Shadowlands as s slave but broke out and lead the main resistance. This felt like a familiar fairy tale story but with new and creepy monsters. Not scary but just...a little unnerving.

And in the 2nd series, they go underground!!

Shadowlands drama is brewing, and Lief and the gang need to stop it now that he is appointed king. He feels a duty to do it. And after reading a story which you can also find in the Tales of Deltora book he realizes there is a backdoor to the Shadowlands, and a mysterious object that can stop his control, called the Pirran Pipe. Three troll/dwarf species each have a piece of this pipe, and Lief as King needs to befriend them all to collect the pipe and rid Deltora of the Shadow Lord.

I could talk more about this series but, it's just more the same. If you love the creepy factor of the first series, you'll enjoy the 2nd and 3rd.

Third Series?

Even with the Shadow Lord gone, he has a backup plan. and a backup for the backup. Plans within plans. Famine and Raids are happening more and more often across the country and Lief, once again, decides to deal with the issues himself, as any good leader should.

Heading to the East, North, West, and back South to the capital, he defeats the blights dubbed The Four Sisters.

In Tales of Deltora, there's a story about four singing sisters spread across the four corners of an island, and once a dark wizard came along who hated music and killed them. Once the final voice stopped a giant beast sprouted up from the center of the isle and destroyed it.

In a bit of plagiarism, the Shadow Lord took this story and inverted it, making the Four Blights slowly spread devastation across the land, and if stopped, then a giant ooze would come up from the center and swallow the land. The ooze could only be stopped by the dragons, and thankfully Lief is diplomatic and befriended all of them. My favorite being the Lapis Lazuli one, Fortuna. Kind and caring, seeing all the people in her territory as her children and wanting to protect them, but also being a shit disturber to Honoura, the emerald dragon.

Deltora book of Monster is simply that, an art book written by a person in universe to log the dangerous flora and fauna of the Land.

Secrets is written by someone also in universe who is trying to protect the knowledge that dragons are still alive. In the 3rd series it's said that the Shadow Lord made a monster race called Ak Baba, basically evil dragons, to kill the good dragons, so the good dragons didn't kill the four sisters or the ooze. also propaganda, :your hope has flew away with your dragons, surrender or perish."

Then, they rereleased Tales with 3 new short stories, which directly tie the Deltora books with another series Rodda wrote, The Three Doors trilogy. It deserves another post but he's an edge emo prince who was 2nd in line so he learned magic to try and rule by force then left to take Deltora when that failed.

Star of Deltora follows Britta, of the port city of Del, wanting to win a competition set by a trading company; the last captain of the ship The Star of Deltora is gone, so they set a competition per tradition to find the best new captain. Britta want's to find her dad who is a missing sailor. The book only takes place in Del, and ends with the ship sailing away to sea, ready for the next adventure. There are 3 more books in the series i have yet to read as they're out of print, but, it was a great return to a land I will always cherish.

[sekhisadventures]

Setting Sail

Darkshore, Year 40 After First War. Approximately One Week After the Dragon Isles Were Revealed.

The tree stood firm and strong on the coastline near the ruined husk that was once Teldrassil. Its branches tall and covered in leaves, it’s boughs showing signs of habitation by several animals, as did its roots and the large knothole at its midpoint. Infact, several small saplings had begun growing nearby after it had shed it’s acorns last autumn. Slowly the forest was recovering and, as Shalandrae had wished when she planted it, balance was being restored.

Standing nearby, taking notes, was a tall draenei woman. She wore a simple brown leather jerkin over a green top, with a pair of matching trousers. A bow was slung over her body, a quiver full of arrows hanging from her back, as she took notes on the tree in a large leather bound tome using a stick of charcoal.

“How fascinating…” she murmured, “There are many other older trees that survived the Horde’s invasion, yet the animals of Darkshore seem to adore this one.” she looked up, adjusting her glasses and giving the sketches she made of the squirrels and birds in the branches one last appraising look before she nodded and snapped it shut, slipping it back onto the harness attached to her belt as she turned to look behind her, hearing a low growl.

Padding towards her was a large feline, a massive creature the size of a mountain lion. Rather than one of the nightsabers native to the land however this one had scales and glowing fin-like features where most would have whiskers. A panthera, an extremely rare creature indeed given that it’s homeland had been the base of operations for none other than the Burning Legion for untold centuries. The animal was native not to Azeroth, but the fallen world of Argus.

“Ah, there you are.” smiled the draenei, extending her hand and letting the creature nuzzle it, the large feline purring contentedly. “Your hunt was a success then Eocundo?” she chuckled, looking around, then whistling sharply.

After a moment the sound of hooves came, and a talbuk strode into view, the goat like creature tossing it’s horns.

“Come Muaaqi. I had wanted to see this mystery tree that the others found for myself, but we need to be returning to Stormwind before the expedition leaves or else we won’t be going.” she nodded, beckoning the talbuk close. Once they were near she took out a small grey stone with a swirl of blue paint on it and focused on it, and a moment later the coast was deserted once more save for those animals who were born there.

Avalon House, Stormwind City

Nelen was still on edge as he spread out his notes before the other members of Avalon, the worgen magus taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I saw it in my leygraph right before I came back. It started right over the Isles and spread out like a blot of ink on water, then suddenly the image showed a massive protodrake’s head roaring at me.” he explained.

“Hmm… ye sure it wasn’t another dragon?” asked Dareley, the paladin looking at the sketch that Nelen had copied down from the book in his sanctum.

“Absolutely Dareley. I think there’s a reason the Isles were suddenly revealed, and whatever it is has to do with whatever that thing was.” he nodded in response.

Shalandrae frowned, sitting at the table as she polished her staff, making sure the stylized stag’s head and horns were pristine after a trip out into the wilds to deal with some local trouble. It wasn’t much, but even a druid needed to have coin to spend on occasion. “I don’t like the sound of it…” she muttered, “Any kind of dragon with THAT much power sounds like a bad thing for us, especially if it’s angry.” she nodded, “I mean, remember the last time we worked with the Aspects…”

At this the three of them shared a meaningful glance between them. They remembered that, hells sometimes Nelen still woke up in a cold sweat remembering how, if not for Dareley’s quick actions and intervention, he may well have died that day at Wyrmrest Temple. “It can’t be Deathwing, we saw proof of that when our forces returned from the Maelstrom… but that doesn’t mean something else wasn’t on those islands.” he warned.

“But…” came Jaie’s voice. The other three members of Avalon were seated across from them. Jaie, Zhan-min, and Samantha. “Maybe its not our enemy?” suggested the monk. “What if its fighting something on the Isles to protect them? Maybe it’ll be on our side for once?” she suggested.

Sam chuckled, “Always the optimist Jaie.” she said, patting her shoulder before she went back sharpening one of her daggers. “Annulus says she has an idea of what it could be… but that it was before her creation in the void so its hard for her to remember details. She remembers things from before that because of her nature… but for her Its like how we’d remember a dream. She’d have to see whatever caused that up close to be sure.” she nodded.

Nelen looked at her, but the void elf shrugged, “Rather not say more until we’re sure. You’ll sleep better.” she replied.

From Jaie’s other side came a harrumph, “I dunno gang. It sounds pretty serious to me.” said Zhan-min, their resident shaman. “I felt somethin’ a few hours ago, right about when Nelen said he saw that I’d wager, ‘n it was like th’ worst migraine I ever had. ‘prolly knocked poor lil’ Sekhi right on her tail back in Orgrimmar.” he nodded.

Nelen frowned, “Dammit… the ships are going to leave for the Isles soon and we already have Dissonantia to worry about.” he growled, then he closed his eyes and forced himself to take a slow breath as the hairs on the backs of his hands began to lengthen and darken. Across the table both Jaie and Sam scooted back a bit.

“I’m alright, I’m alright…” he muttered, “Just… rather not have to worry about TWO enemies while we’re on this trip. Dissonantia is dangerous enough without a rogue dragon flying around.” he sighed.

“Grimo still ain’t done with th’ bloody thing?” asked Dareley in an annoyed tone as Shalandrae rolled her eyes and muttered in Thalassian.

Sam winced a bit as she heard her, whispering something along the lines of ‘you kiss your mother with that mouth?’ as the druidess smirked at her reaction.

Jaie frowned, “Yeah… I see what you mean Nelen. We were lucky last time, but we don’t want to deal with two threats at once if we can avoid it. Without Grimo’s device none of us can tell when she’s coming.” she sighed, shaking her head as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, I can smell fel magic, but I can’t tell her from another warlock or even an Illidari. Its all…” she waved her hand dismissively, “… you know when we’re at the Golden Keg and someone orders Thaegra’s special devilled eggs and half the bar immediately finds new seats away from whoever ordered them because they KNOW whats going to happen in about half an hour? Remember when that gnome had a double order and Thaegra had to make him leave after what happened and how the torches burned blue when it did? It smells like THAT… but worse.”

The other five stared at her, Sam trying and failing to keep a straight face at that mental image.

Finally Jaie said, “Worse than that?” she asked, muttering something in Pandaren before shuddering. Being one of the more animal-like races her sense of smell was pretty strong compared to a human or dwarf. Not as strong as Nelen in his worgen form or Shalandrae… but strong enough to have fled the bar with her eyes watering when the ‘Gnomish Gasbomb’ incident had occurred, with Nelen right on her heels before he ducked in the alleyway to be sick.

Shalandrae nodded, “Yep, and while I can track animals and people by scent I’m not able to tell one fel magic user from another beyond that they smell like Kezan at low tide.” she shrugged.

Nelen frowned, then nodded, “Right. I was hoping we could avoid this, but Grimo told me in no uncertain terms that night in Dalaran that unless we have something from Dissonantia herself or one of her demons that his fel-detection machine is just as inaccurate.” he sighed, looking at the ceiling and blowing out his lips… then frowning, “We need to go to Blackwald Forest.”

Dareley and the others sat up, they hadn’t been back there since just after Dissonantia had betrayed them, to seek out proof if the legends of the Witch of the Blackwald were true.

“Why? Whats there lad?” asked Dareley, cocking his head at the mage.

“Dissonantia’s cabin, what’s left of it.” he replied. “We need something that Grimo can use… and the legends of the Witch of Blackwald Forest go back at least a century, if not more. If we can’t get Az’arad or one of her demons then our best bet is something from there. Dissonantia told me once that the cabin was where she got attacked the night she was infected with the worgen curse, and if she was turned there she likely left everything behind when she ran into the woods to find the other worgen. I hadn't known Grimo might need something like that when we went back there after our time in the Shadowlands and as far as I know she never returned.” he nodded, “If we’re lucky something survived since she became a worgen that carries enough resonance for Grimo to use it.”

Sam snorted, “So what, you’re going to steal her bloomers or something?” she asked.

Nelen frowned at her, rolling his eyes. “Now that we know the Witch of Blackwald Forest was really a warlock, I know some of how her magic works. I spoke to Ed about this a while ago, and he confirmed it. Warlocks need tools to perform more complicated magic. Wands, daggers, cups to hold things like blood for their rituals, and the like. If Dissonantia used any of them regularly they may carry her aura still. All we need to do is find something.” he nodded firmly.

Shalandrae nodded, idly running her finger along the head of Journey’s End, her staff held gently in her hands. “Hmm… like my staff holds my magic from when I planted the tree you used to make it…” she murmured, not entirely liking that comparison.

“Exactly.” he nodded, “Okay, so the boats will begin leaving for the Dragon Isles in about a week. The Horde and Alliance are trying to aim their landings around the same time and we agreed to give them a little head start since Kalimdor is further away. Jaie, Sam, Zhan-min, you guys are in charge of getting our provisions and the money to pay for passage together.” he nodded to them.

Jaie nodded as Zhan-min grinned back, “Hah! Leave th’ food ‘n drinks to the experts Nelen!” laughed the large pandaren man, slapping Jaie on the shoulder as Samantha nodded with a smirk. She could probably find a way to pay for the trip easily enough… even if it meant someone else might not be able to.

 “Shalandrae, Dareley, I’m heading to Blackwald forest, but I’d feel safer if I had a druid and a paladin backing me up. Even if Dissonantia isn’t there those woods are still dangerous, and you both came last time so you know what to watch for.”

Dareley nodded to him as Shalandrae stood up and stretched, “Well, I suppose I could stretch my wings. It’ll be at least a few day’s journey though… I mean Gilneas is hardly a short trip.”

Nelen nodded, “Indeed… but the alternative is waiting until Dissonantia reappears and tries to kill another one of us.” he replied, “At least this way we’re doing SOMEthing.” he replied.

And thus their plans were laid out. The next day while Jaie worked out what foodstuffs could be portable enough for snacks and Zhan-min got to work preparing some brews to keep their spirits up on the long sea voyage and Sam… did what Sam does best… three sets of wings took flight over Stormwind  heading north.

Nelen was astride a manasaber, it’s wings glowing arcane constructions coming from it’s armor. He’d earned it fighting alongside of Suramar before they formally joined the Horde just before the outbreak of the Blood War, but he’d be damned if he rode anything else these days.

Dareley as always rode his gryphon, the large eagle-lion hybrid’s powerful wings carrying him above the tall white walls surrounding the city.

Between them flapped a storm crow with a purple sheen to it’s feathers as Shalandrae flew between them, the druid needing no mount to enable her to take to the skies after all.

Together they flew to the former home of their nemesis, hoping to find the means to protect themselves from her inevitable reappearance. Hoping against hope that they could find something, ANYTHING, that would enable them to do so.

Next Story

Previous Story

[wizard-spider-man]

To Dive Feet First into Hell

#The Wizard Spider-Man stood in the center of his research room. He had collected a number of trinkets and artifacts from the deeper recesses of the Sanctum; and from around the realms itself.

**Today was the day he'd breach the barriers between planes and step into Dis itself, all in the name of an associate.**

*The Idea was insane by all accounts. After spending time in Cania, many would wonder why the Wizard Spider-Man would ever want to return to hell.*

He began by clearing a space in the center of the room, meticulously sweeping away all of the dust.

From a locked cabinet, Spidey withdrew his prized and dangerous collection of items for the ritual:

A vial of hellfire, stolen from a pit fiend's lair. The smoky liquid within radiated with an orange glow.

The desiccated heart of a Demon Lord, acquired by Doctor Strange an untold number of years ago.

A contract penned in Spidey's own blood, detailing the terms of his return—a safeguard against Dis's tendency to trap visitors.

This one was extremely necessary as Spider-Man knew his soul would be immensely valuable to the demons below.

Three black candles rendered from the fat of a hanged murderer.

And lastly, a knife of cold iron, its blade etched with prayers to the gods of safe passage. This one felt required for posterity more than anything.

With tender care, the Web-head arranged these components in a complex pattern on the floor.

Etching runes and sigils, He spent hours inscribing various symbols around the circle, utilizing specially prepared chalks and paints to help strengthen the circle's properties.

As a final precaution, the Wizard Spider-Man activated the Sanctorum's more powerful wards. Circles of protection flared to life along the walls, ceiling, and floor. These would prevent any unwanted entities from following him back through the portal, or worse, trapping him inside Dis, as well as anchor his being back to the Mortal world if he is in mortal danger.

Breathing deep, the Wizard begins to chant. The words were guttural and painful, languages of devils twisting his mortal tongue. As he spoke, he used the ritual knife to slice open his palm, letting droplets of blood fall onto each component in turn.

**Ouch. Why was this part necessary?**

The air grew thick and sulfurous. The candles ignited on their own accord, flames glowing an unnatural purple. The hellfire in the vial bubbled and hissed, while the devil's heart gave a single, thunderous beat.

With a final, shouted syllable, the Wizard Spider-Man throws the knife, plunging it into the heart. Reality opens before him, revealing a swirling vortex of crimson and black. Heat blared from the opening, carrying with it the distant sounds of agonized screams.

The Wizard Spider-Man steps back to admire his work. The portal to Dis stood stable and ready.

But the hardest part was yet to come. Carefully placing a thin silver chain around his neck, within dangled a small crystal vial. Inside, a strand of his own hair was suspended in shimmering, opalescent mana infused oils.

This was his lifeline, his way back home. As long as this remained intact, he could open back up this portal home, no matter how lost he became in the infernal realm.

Steeling himself, the Wizard Spider-Man straightened his robes, checked his component pouches one last time, and approached the swirling gateway to Hell.

This was for Catherine.

*"Let's go kick some Demon Ass!"*

[vminity21]

The Truth Untold | ksj

Pairing: bestfriend!Seokjin x singlemother!reader, singledad!btsmember x female!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 22,340

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): profanity, mention of divorce, mega angst, mention of child birth, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), shower sex woop woop, nipple play, morning sex, dirty talk, slight fem!dom, it took me three years to write this story and I am so thankful that it is finally finished Rated: 18+

Summary: When a job opportunity arises in the hometown you left seven years ago, you return with the gift that was never made known to the one person who hasn't left your mind. Despite the love interest tugging on your heartstrings, you wonder where he may be; tired of suppressing the guilt for hiding the biggest secret you have ever withheld. Now, after all this time, the truth is approaching much sooner than you anticipate, and the untold story of why you left will soon be revealed.

Co-author:  @yoonoclock​ (suhflix) is the first human whose writing I fell in love with and her talent never ceases to amaze me! This collab right here is an absolute dream come true and this story can finally be told after years of the idea living rent free within my brain. I love you so much my Monnie! Seriously thank you so much for cowriting this piece with me. 

Credits to: @dee-ehn​ for making such a beautiful cover, it truly embodies the story. Thank you so frickin frackin much!

Greenery zips by, your hands guide the steering wheel in concentration nearing the road to your new home; one that is bringing you back to the town you left years ago, and even now, you never imagined you'd ever return. A brand-new office job opportunity discovered online, you immediately applied, accepting the position that happened to be in your hometown; and, with the experience you've already had with a desk job, you were at the top of the list.

In the passenger seat sits your daughter, Mae, cuddled against the door, eyes glued shut in sleep while classical music serenades through the speakers at low volume. Nostalgia is a funny one- sneaking up on you in times you desperately try to avoid it. But, finally caving, you convince yourself this is all a good idea; with your sister, Monnie, and her husband being closer, at least you have someone you can rely on, the same as she can rely on you.

 A moving company has already moved the heavy stuff into your home. Rooms are finished. You started unpacking Mae's room first, so she would have everything she needed available. And today, you're coming home from 'Back to School' shopping, purchasing your daughter a new backpack as well as supplies with the infamous request of colored pencils. With summer ending, you've already transferred Mae's records to the new school she will be attending; starting second grade, her seventh birthday passed, you're nervous for the new adventure ahead, and all you hope with every fiber of your being is that you made the right decision.

“I hope,” you think repeatedly as you look back at Mae every few minutes. She’s okay, therefore, so should everything else… right?

Receiving an email once you arrive home, you read over it to see an announcement for an open house- a way for students to see their classroom and meet their teacher. Though you're excited about the news, your heart falls in disappointment all the same, because of course, the date of the open house is the same day you're beginning your new job. With your luck, the times clash. Sneaking a glance to check on your daughter, who is groggily hugging her favorite stuffed animal (one given to her by her grandmother), you dial your sister's number.

"Woman, you've been gone for a total of two whoppin’ minutes, what do you want now?" Monnie's voice answers the line abruptly which prompts you to pull the phone away from your ear when you hear the familiar muffle of a car.

"Are you driving!?" You say incredulously into the phone- a conversation you have openly said you're uncomfortable with. Monnie exhales into the phone which you imagine involves a painfully long eye roll.

"First of all, no, I'm not driving. You and Yoongi seem to think hell has frozen over if I do, and secondly, I'm pregnant, not helpless,"

A hearty snicker escapes your mouth, excitement filling you for your future nephew, "I know, but you can't even see your feet anymore,"

"And" she draws out, "My due date isn't until two months from now so you two need to calm down before I legitimately find relaxation pills to sneak into the wine I can no longer drink."

You sigh, “I don't like bitter wine-" 

"Who said I couldn't find other ways to-"

"Fine," you raise a hand in the air, "Anyways, I'm not calling to fuss at you. I need a favor," bringing the tip of your thumb to your mouth, you nip at the nail, guilt brewing for even asking.

"What did you do," Monnie immediately asks as a reflex.

After years of schemes and numerous escape plans back in the day, it comes as no surprise that whenever you hear the words ‘favor’ the need to question arises.

"Nothing!" You scoff teasingly, pacing back and forth into the dining area ignoring the numerous small boxes you're procrastinating to unpack. "Monnie, really, I need a favor,"

"What's the catch?"

"Coffee," you answer straightway, "Caffeine-free coffee.”

"Ugh," your sister bellows, the staticky feel of the phone line poppy within your ears, "Hence why I want this little troublemaker to exit my body. I miss caffeine," she pauses, "But, not as much as I miss bitter wine.”

The quiet snicker of Yoongi is heard- you shake your head at your sister's playful banter- something Yoongi loves about his wife.

"Well, it's the least I can do," you offer, "But is there any way you can take Mae to her open house this coming Monday?"

"Yes, of course, we can. Yoongi's off that day surprisingly, so no worries, he will be driving." 

You’re very thankful your sister will take care of it, and you soon hang up the phone for the evening and turn on a heel to prepare dinner for you and your daughter. 

Everything will be okay.

When Monday rolls around, you fluff at the curls layered in your hair, triple-checking your makeup, and doing a couple of side glances in the mirror before your clicking heels leave the bathroom. Monnie and Yoongi wait in the driveway, planning to take Mae to her new school while you tackle a new job.

"I love you so much, Mae," you hug her close, letting her soft hair tickle your nose before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And make sure you say ma'am or sir when greeting your teacher, and say please and thank you, okay?"

"I will Mommy, I promise!" She says, her nervous eyes mirroring your own, though they resemble the eyes you used to get lost in once upon a time. Burying the thought further, you refuse to dig up the lurking past until you're ready.

"Be good, kiddo," embracing your daughter one more time before she heads to the car.

Your eyes linger out the door to ensure she safely enters the car and drives off until you can no longer see them. Once out of sight, you can assure yourself that this day will move along smoothly for both of you.

Walking into the new job, the boss, Kim Namjoon, shows you around, introducing you to the staff. Slightly bowing with each face to show respect. It's then you're led to what will be your office.

Namjoon hands you a schedule and goes over the code of conduct, also explaining your role in answering phone calls or preparing projects he asks of you. Lastly, he assists in providing you with a username and password. All the basics are covered, and you can say that it hasn’t been as terrifying as you originally thought.

"I'll be looking forward to seeing you further your skills with our company. Thank you for joining the team," Namjoon shakes your hand, nodding once, his black glasses slip to the bridge of his nose before he fixes them. "Your trainer will be here shortly to show you the ropes. Once you feel comfortable on your own just let us know,"

"Will do, thank you, sir," you smile, settling behind your desk once he departs. 

Though decorations to make the atmosphere more like home has been a goal, the only thing you need right now is just the picture frame of your daughter; one you slip from your purse to steady next to the computer- her toothy smile lighting up your whole world as her happy eyes warm your heart. Staring at the photo once more, you log in to your computer, bringing up the first message you receive. Deeply focusing on the list of projects forwarded to your work email that was already prepared prior to your arrival, you scan through everything, scribbling down your login onto a pad of paper you plan on keeping within your purse. Unbeknownst to you, a tall figure leans into the entryway, poking his head just enough to reveal his identity,

"When I saw the name on the schedule, I had to do a double-take! Since when, did you decide to come back to the underworld?" The deep voice utters prompting you to jolt from your concentration to gasp at the handsome face smirking at you.

It takes a total of two seconds for you to recognize the man standing before you. 

"Kim Seokjin!" The excitement leads you to jump from your desk, arms outstretched, you rush towards him until crashing into his embrace while he sways you from side to side. "I didn't know you worked here! Jin, how are you?" Your hands grip his shoulders, gazing at his dancing eyes- dark hair longer from what you remember in high school, covering his forehead in the softest fluff.

"I'm doing good! Never been better." 

When you realize you've been in his arms a moment longer than expected, you slowly back away, a timid smile forming on your lips. 

Clearing his throat, his expression reflecting the same awkward tension, you can't help the slight attraction within your chest. It most definitely had to be due to your lack of physical contact. When was the last time you went on a successful date? Oh dear… far too long for you to remember.

Yes, this slight tingle you feel upon your skin has everything to do with the lack of romance in your life. Definitely.

Seokjin politely ignores your forced smile by shoving his hands within his pockets. It is in that moment you catch a glimpse of his bare ring finger kindling a subtle surprise. Out of everyone in your past friend group, you expected him to be the first one married.

Everything about him then screamed husband. It’s probably the same now.

“How are you, y/n?"

“Wonderful," you sigh, inwardly grateful to have a familiar face welcoming you, bringing a sense of comfort until you get used to being here, "Excited to be back,"

"What's it been, like, seven years?" Jin tilts his head while his eyes scan the ceiling, "Gosh, we were children, then,"

You nod in agreement, "Still to this day, I remember dreading pre-calc, if it wasn't for you and-" leaning backward onto your desk a bit too far, the clanging of your picture frame lands on the desk interrupting what you were about to say.

"Oh!" Jin reaches to set it back up, eyes widening when he sees the picture, "Is- is she-?"

"My daughter," your head is slightly lower when answering, the realization Jin makes bundling nerves within your tummy. 

Seokjin was your best friend in high school and even after his graduation, since he's a few years older than you, both of you maintained a friendship up until you vanished without any explanation. Jin helped you with all your math classes, which was something you consistently struggled with, and supported you at any event you attended. No one ever knew why you left so suddenly after your graduation, and though there were people you trusted with your whole life, you couldn't bear to tell them when you found out you were pregnant. Seventeen years old and pregnant, "Her name is Mae," you smile.

"How old is she?" He asks, eyes meeting yours- his nervous fingers fiddling within his pockets.

"She's seven," you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes- a dawning 'oh' becoming present on his lips.

"Well," he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," you say softly, turning to stare at the photo fondly, "She's my best friend,"

When silence falls between the two of you, he rocks on his heels once, gathering words carefully. Now fully understanding that whatever your motives were for leaving seven years ago, you did not do it with the intention of hurting anyone.

“She looks just like you," His compliment catches you off guard, your eyes trailing from his broad shoulders to the gentleness resting in his brown irises, heart fluttering though you mask it.

"Thank you, Jin," he bows slightly, turning toward the entrance.

 "I'll see you around, y/n," and with that, his presence disappears, leaving your wondering heart thudding beneath your chest.

Min-a, a lady with red-rimmed glasses and matching lipstick, dangly, red earrings and a messy bun happened to introduce herself as your trainer shortly after Seokjin left. Quickly going over how the system at your new job works, she answered any questions you had, even letting you try a couple of phone calls as well as preparing for the first task on a presentation that involved the selling of a cosmetic product. Although the hours seemed to drag, the only thing your mind focuses on is how your daughter is doing, and how open house went.

When the opportunity presents itself, you quickly give a call to Monnie.

"You asked questions, correct?" You panic into the phone. Your sister is chuckling at your rushed state. 

“Met her teacher? Showed her the classroom? Took notes? Did they provide any information?" You can't help yourself, slinging your purse into the passenger side after the long day, pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you triple check to make sure you have everything you need. Keys, wallet, paperwork from the job.

"Can you breathe?"

"Did they provide any information," you repeat with a playful yet stern tone. "And did Mae-"

"Y/N, hold your titties. Yes, we did. We met the teacher, she knows where to go next Monday and no, I didn't take any notes. You are being dramatic."

Now, most people assume that she was being rude. That she didn’t understand the stress of motherhood. Monnie may not be a mother yet, but she is a woman who saw everything you have endured. She is fully aware that you seek to make this transition smooth for Mae because you love her. And Monnie loves you. 

She just happens to know when you are stressing yourself out beyond what you should be. Sometimes reminding you to take a breath is the best decision. 

"Okay, okay," you lean back into your seat with eyes squeezed shut, "I'll relax. Just- just, thank you. Thank you for doing all of this for me," you're grateful despite the guilt from missing your daughter's preparation for the big day in a week's time.

"What can I say? I'm the best auntie ever," Monnie gloats. You know the tight-lipped smile she most likely has planted on her face while Yoongi stifles giggles.

"Yeah, and you're the only one so what choice does she have?"

"You're just jealous because I am the best thing since sliced bread-"

"Stale bread.”

"I'll have you know that these hot crossed buns didn't form a baby with being sta-"

"SPARE ME," you yell into the phone, turning out of the parking garage and into downtown, "I'll see you when I get home you sicko. Tell Mae I love her very much, and I really hope she's wearing her headphones, I don't need her listening to your profanity-"

"Yes, she is listening to music, I'll see you in a bit, love you,"

"Love you," you make a detour, stopping for some iced coffee as you promised, also purchasing your daughter's favorite treat in celebration for her beginning second grade.

Keeping your full attention on the road, it's still quiet enough, even with comforting music, to let your thoughts spin. With this new job you have acquired, it's come to your attention that this will be the busiest you've ever been, at least according to Min-a. Though you and your sister's relationship had been strained nearly seven years ago, it took Mae turning four years old- a time where the guilt nearly consumed you- to reconcile with the one person you hoped had forgiven you. One thing you did think about, too, especially with moving back after all this time, was looking for the individual who changed your life. A young man, full of life, numerous dreams he was determined to accomplish, laughter that made you swoon, and a heart that pieced yours together when your world was falling apart. Where he is now, you're uncertain of. And, whether he'd be happy to see you again, that's unknown to you, too. With the news, you've buried deep enough, and with the way you left him, he still to this day has not an idea of the gift you brought to this earth without him.

Even Seokjin, who was your rock most of your high school years, didn't even know about the situation. The only thing he was aware of was the man who had captured your heart at the time; though, you hope he wouldn't say anything or ask about it... Either way, you are thankful for the beginning of the reconnection with Jin. If anything, this job may draw the opportunity of really catching up; seeing what all he's been up to since you've last seen him, including the curious inquiry involving his love life hidden subconsciously. With a handsome man like him you'd think women would snatch him up quick. Though deep down, you've really missed him, and are hopeful in the fact he's still single.

Perhaps it’s okay if you search for someone too. Is it too soon to see that in Seokjin? Years may have passed but his enduring existence has not.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you murmur to yourself.

Pulling into your driveway, you park the car, letting a long sigh out through your nose. No one knows who Mae's father is in your life, other than you. Something your sister has chosen to accept as well as your parents. Having Mae in their life is what matters to them the most, the same as Mae is your constant- the little girl who will always have your heart.

She is what brings stability to your life amid all the chaos from past, present and future. 

Carrying the iced coffees into the house, Mae greets you with an excited smile and hug,

"Mommy!" She exclaims, her arms tightening around your frame, her long, black hair nestling into the material of your pants suit.

"Hello there, my sweetheart. I have a surprise for you," you coo, handing her the paper bag with her favorite dessert.

"Oh, thank you!" She takes it, opening the bag with wide eyes, "By the way, I think I'm really going to like school this year! Everyone is so nice!" Her toothy smile makes your heart swell, your hand running along the top of her head.

"And I can't wait to hear all about it," you beam, watching her take a bite out of the treat while sitting comfortably on the couch where her iPad is charging.

The simplicity of the evening is what naturally has your mind flooded with thoughts of what once was. 

Freshly graduating high school, you weren't quite showing, yet upon the discovery of your pregnancy which is something you were thankful for. Your parents divorced when you were a freshman, with Monnie and you being a year apart, (also her being closer to your father, while you were closer to your mother). The two of you ultimately decided to live in separate houses. Monnie being completely unaware of your social life the same as you were hers. Well, when it mostly came to boys. Monnie happened to fall in love later; meeting Yoongi in college, both falling head over heels in love that led him to proposing within two years. Now, the two are expecting a baby boy. This time it is your turn to be an aunt.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite nemesis," Monnie waddles into the living room, her hand resting on top of her swollen belly; Yoongi follows behind her, shaking his head at her joking tone.

"Do arch nemesis buy coffees for their loved ones?" you lift the drink tray of coffees into her line of vision, "Decaf for you, Preggers."

Playfully snatching it from your hands, she takes a quick sip, "Ugh, I need something hell of a lot stronger.” 

Yoongi chuckles, planting a sweet kiss to Monnie's temple, "I think childproofing is no longer of concern, Drunkard.” 

Monnie scoffs, "Well, excuse me, Curly," her eyebrows raise while a tug of a flippant sneer aims back at her husband, "How about you carry this infant for nine months within your womb that deprives you of your weekly festivities.”

Yoongi sips his coffee in amusement, "I thought you said you got drunk off my love. Isn't that enough?"

"I-" Monnie pauses, not expecting such a soft retort that she can't deny. She shrugs before leaning into him as he wraps an arm around her.

"Get a room before I regurgitate," you tease, cackles echoing within the living room. After a few more conversations, Monnie and Yoongi head home. Night comes quicker than you anticipate, which brings you to tucking Mae into bed, kissing her forehead before turning to waltz to your bedroom.

"Mommy?"

You halt at the sound of your daughter's soft voice, arching an eyebrow in concern,

"Everything alright, Mae?" Her almond eyes show a sadness you are familiar with- especially when something has been weighing on her mind- something you have feared since she became old enough to talk. A subject you're not sure you're ready to talk about. A pout forms on her lips as she bundles closer into her covers.

"I saw a lot of families today," your shoulders tense, heart beginning to thud louder beneath you while sorrow overwhelms your chest.

"My teacher actually thought Aunt Monnie and Uncle Yoongi were my mom and dad," her eyes meet yours, reflecting the same eyes you try to keep suppressed in the back of your brain, but sometimes that's hard to do- especially when her heart is as pure as his was.

"Mommy?" Her sweet voice breaking you from your trance, you dread the topic more than you'd like to admit- also wondering how long you may have been zoned out just a moment ago.

"Yes, love?" You try to pretend you're not nervous, which is extremely difficult to do because it's written all over your face.

"Do I-?" Mae begins, gulping carefully before continuing, "Do I... Have a dad?"

Your shoulders fall expectedly at her question, your eyes immediately gazing at the bed covers your hands are gripping. Swallowing, you're trying to gather what little words you have spiraling relentlessly to the point you feel faint. How can you answer her? How can you tell her how cowardly you were? Running from him to keep him from giving up on his dreams? Leaving for the fear of him rejecting you? Rejecting your daughter? His daughter?

You left him without any warning. Something you never thought you would do. Pregnancy wasn't part of the plan, but you are thankful it happened. Although, every day you wonder what it would be like if her father was or had been in Mae's life. Would you be where you are now?

"Honey," you murmur, wishing you could muster the strength to answer her, "It's time for bed, okay? Mommy's got work in the morning," you can hardly meet her eyes- brimmed with tears. But instead of questioning you, her small hand reaches forward to hold yours, and all you can do is let your tears pang the comforter. "I love you so much,"

"I love you, too, Mommy."

Wiping away your tears once you re-tuck Mae into bed for the night, you briskly walk to your room, shutting the door behind you. Now you rush to your closet to find a bin you keep all your old journals in. It doesn't take long before you find it; a journal you kept in college. Nearly torn to pieces it seems yet held together just enough to keep the written pages intact. You flip through the sheets until you find it. The picture of you and Mae’s dad taped onto one of the pages; you run your fingers along both your smiling faces as a tear slaps onto the paper. You carefully remove the photo, folding it in half and tiptoeing to the kitchen to place it safely within your purse. One day, you promise yourself, you'll show it to Mae- you'll finally find the strength to reveal who her father is. Because your daughter deserves that much.

It was the fighting that brought you here; innumerable nights of hiding in your bedroom, counting down the time until the arguing silences. Holding your sister close while she covers her tear-stained cheeks into your shirt. It was the shouting that brought you to where you are now- back pressed against the crinkled rooftop while your bare feet smooth amongst it. Your parents announced divorce a few days prior, yet the two can't seem to settle things enough to become civil. Although you and your sister have tried to make ends meet, the truce was made that both of you will part ways as well. You would remain here with your mother while Monnie moves in with your father.

The stars stare down at you- shimmering above as if dancing to the songs of the chirping crickets neighboring the night. Warm tears stroke your cheeks, your hands folded upon your stomach while you swallow the sour taste on your tongue. The familiar sound of the treehouse ladder, which is what you typically use to pull your way to the roof, prods you to focus in on what you realize are footsteps. They carefully step onto the roof. The metal clinking sounding until the figure settles beside you, raising their knees while they lean back onto the palms of their hands.

"Your call had me worried," the voice of your best friend brings a relief you've needed all day, but you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, "What's up?"

You can feel his gaze- him blinking a few times in reaction to his contact lens, the infamous blink you're so used to seeing. Seokjin nudges you slightly, bringing your attention to reality while you glimpse up at him to notice his recently cut hair gelled to the point it shines beneath the moon.

"They're getting a divorce," you murmur while fresh tears stew, returning your glance to the constellations above in an attempt to distract yourself from the stab beneath your chest. Seokjin's shoulders fall almost brusquely, his lips ajar while his heart aches for you.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay," your eyes squeeze shut, "I knew it was coming, I just- I didn't know who else to go to,"

"Hey," voice soft, he slides to lay on his back, his shoulder touching yours just enough to remind you he is here- the comfort of a friend that will do anything to put a smile on your face, "I'm right here."

It doesn't take much for you to bury your face into his chest, muting the sobs that overwhelm your frame in harsh trembles. Your hands grip his shirt to somehow force the pain away. Seokjin visits you nearly every day after school, and tonight was a night he was studying for his midterm. Hence why when you called to find out he was busy, you refused to burden him with your heartache that you merely told him you were fine, just bored out of your mind. Of course, he knew better, dropping his studies to rush to your home- climbing to your rescue to join you underneath the stars. He figured it had to do with your math homework- he didn't expect such saddening news. Yet he holds you tight, wishing there was something he could do to tell you everything will be okay.

'Do I... Do I have a dad?'

A long, dreaded sigh escapes your lips as you lean into your chair; anxiety builds with every passing minute. Work is not helping nor is your mind that happens to be too foggy to concentrate on any tasks at hand. Crossing your arms, pen gripped between your fingers, you still can't help but ponder the one lingering question that refuses to vanish since Mae asked you nearly a week ago.

The picture from your journal lays unfolded in front of you. The computer screen is bright and alert which is the opposite of your current mood. Yet you lean forward, minimizing the blank word document that has sat before you untouched since you've clocked in, and you click online to search through your Facebook. If anything, he must have a profile, something to give you an idea of what he's been up to. Posing your fingers above the keyboard, you hold your breath, typing in his first name just to huff in frustration. You quickly exit out of the screen before it even has a chance to compute what name you were trying to search.

"Fuck," you whisper, running your hands along your face once again, "Why can't I do this?" rubbing your eyes, you lift your head to see the photo of your daughter. She's the only reason you've made it to where you are today. Her patience and understanding for why you don't always have an answer. The trust she has regardless of what situation is thrown your way. You are the strongest woman she knows aside from her favorite auntie though you doubt yourself from time to time. No matter what, even if you were to find him- her father- even if he chooses to remain unheard of once the revelation is made known to him… At least, you have her.

Clicking off the site, you refold the picture of you and Mae's father to settle it within your purse. You know it's wrong. Keeping this from him. But you've done it for so long that you just accept that right now, you need some time. The time that you always assure yourself you have even though you know one day it will run out. Wincing from the pain that waves within your chest, you bury your face into your palms, the tips of your fingers tickled by your hair.

"Having second thoughts?"

When you recognize the voice of Seokjin, a small smile forms on your lips while you raise your head to greet him. Your eyes adjust to the light while you watch him approach with hands in his pockets. He drops into the seat that Min-a had brought in which was positioned next to you. His warmth being so close brings a sense of comfort that you've been needing all day. And despite the sensation that burns in your chest from the attraction, you try to ignore it. You hardly notice that you haven't said a word since he arrived.

"You seem… rattled," he observes, concern shedding from his eyes while he pivots in the chair.

"And, you seem entertained,"

Jin pauses mid-spin and throws you a humorous glance, "You're never too old to swivel, okay," laughter just falls from your smile, him pausing to run his hands together, before turning to face you once again, "Wanna grab some coffee?"

"You act as if you've already had some,"

"One cup is never enough, now let's go,"

The two of you walk to the nearest shop to order your drinks which Jin insists on paying despite your objections. The two of you settle into one of the tables outside. The sun shines high in the sky, causing his hair to glisten as well as the smooth skin of his face. You can't help but take it all in; uncertain of how you could have forgotten such a content face. His stare remains off to the side- investigating the parking lot; unaware of the way you watch him. You are happy to have your best friend from what feels like a lifetime ago, sitting before you as if the friendship had never been lost. When guilt seems to raise its ugly head, your glance drops to stare at your drink curled within your fingers prompting you to twirl the cup. This then becomes the moment where you fixate on the tiny details, such as the perspiration from the melting ice that dampens your fingers.

"You've gone quiet," his voice is tender as it always is when he's concerned, which is something you’re glad to see has never changed.

It really is just like it was back in high school. Suddenly you feel as if all those years away vanish. You are a girl spending time with her best friend. 

Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you take a moment, swallowing before answering.

"It's Mae's first day of second grade," you lean back in your chair to cross your arms, trying to ease the nerves wanting to plague your mind, "And... I think it's safe to say I'm more nervous than she was this morning.”

Trying to make light of the situation, Jin lets out a breathy laugh of understanding. However, when your smile slowly falls into an anxious line, he can't help but intercede.

"Hey," he reaches over to rest his fingers upon yours, the shape of them igniting memories from the times you'd tease him (a cute trait about him amongst many) which he'd retort with mentioning how bad your hair frizzes when it's humid. 

Your eyes never leave the scene of your fingers touching. The desire to interlace them has never been so strong- something you hadn't thought of before with him. 

He must have mistaken your stare of one of discomfort, so he quickly brings his hand back to his coffee to take a quick sip, "If she's anything like you, which I'm pretty positive she is," he tilts his head, the serenity pooling within his gaze bores into yours, "She's going to be just fine."

The rest of the time is spent slowly walking back to work. Your shoulder brushing slightly below his. The urge to want to hold his hand is still present although you're uncertain if he will reject you which is something you'd rather not be embarrassed by. But his words from nearly ten minutes ago spin profusely like a record.

Seokjin isn't angry with you, except that's something you're oblivious of. On the contrary, he finds you the most determined human being to walk the planet. He doesn't see your daughter as a secret, he sees her as someone who fueled you to become the best mother and person you can be. He sees your leaving as taking responsibility upon yourself and whoever the father of Mae is. Though he thinks highly of you, he is also oblivious of the one detail that is too soon to reveal. The father has no idea of Mae's existence, which is something you know would upset Seokjin if he were to find out.

It's then Jin glimpses at you, your worried expression evident, "She's going to be fine," he reassures you. 

The road soon leads to the parking lot of your job when the courage to reach for his long fingers turns into a reality.

Damn, y/n. I never thought you would be so bold, you thought to yourself.

You haven’t been here very long. But it appears that none of it matters when it comes to being with Seokjin. The years separated doesn’t feel so foreign to you but a fond memory that follows you wherever you go. 

Yes, you have wanted to hold his hand long before this exact moment.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but you refrain from averting your gaze, letting the corners of his eyes crinkle from the side grin that tugs upon his lips. With the sensation of his fingers sliding to fully intertwine yours, you hardly register the time that's passing, but you're so enthralled by the kindness he's never rid of that you don't want to move.

"Thank you, Jin," your voice softer than the wind breezing through the ruffling trees. He squeezes your hand once before nodding, hoping that after all this time you'll finally see what's been standing right in front of you.

Mae traces each letter carefully onto the notebook paper until everything upon her heart has been written. The assignment today is to write a note to someone special whether it be a family member, a friend, or a person in uniform one may know. Once the projects are graded, the messages will be returned for each student to give the letter to the person they wrote it to. Sadness overwhelms her heart while she scribbles down the final sentences, soon rising from her seat to lay the paper onto Mr. Park's desk.

"Thank you, Mae," he grins, accepting the paper, "Everything going okay with today's assignment?"

"Yes, sir," she nods politely, remembering to greet her teacher the way her mom taught her.

"Good," Mr. Park smiles, proud that his students so far have been doing well with the English portion of his lessons, "Any questions?"

"No, sir," Mae replies, turning on a heel to be seated at her desk.

Once all the papers are collected, Mr. Park begins the math lesson. Mae is hardly able to focus because the one thing she can't seem to shake is the burning question she has yet to know the answer to.

Transitioning to the new school has gone smoothly: her gradually making new friends, and Mr. Park is enthusiastic with the way he teaches. She enjoys coming here almost every day.

There's just something missing.

There's a half of her reason for existing- one she has questioned since she became old enough to notice that her tiny family wasn't complete. One she wishes she can tell her day to just as she does with you. She wants to know who this missing piece is, and though she has no idea where to start, she refuses to lose hope. Reaching for her pencil, she copies down each math problem Mr. Park adds to the board wishing nothing more than to hear your voice, telling her everything will be okay.

Sometimes, at night, before Mae goes to sleep, she pulls out a journal Aunt Monnie bought her a while back. The journal Mae writes letters to her father in- telling him about her days spent with you. Days where she's sad and wishes she could meet him. Days where she mentions her favorite hobbies and foods, even animals. It's something you don't know about because Mae knows it would make you sad if you were to read it, and that's the last thing she ever wants for you. 

Overall, she can't help, but close her eyes and make a wish, the same wish she has wished on so many stars. The same wish she put in her letter that is now turned in to Mr. Park,

'I wish I knew where to find you.’ 

"You know you're supposed to put an X there,"

"I'm about to put an X where the sun doesn't shine if you-"

"It's called accuracy, now mark that X on the spot,"

Seokjin pokes the area on the homework assignment- a math problem you have struggled with for the past hour while you huff in frustration. Your clammy palm spreads along your forehead with the geometry problem staring back at you in a torturous taunt.

"Well," you sputter, "who the hell thought it was smart to mingle Algebra with Geometry?" You lean back in your chair, exasperation evident in your limbs that go limp by your sides, "And, who the hell thought we would ever use this in real life situations? Tell me why this is even a thing?"

The windshield wiper laugh is all that serenades your ears while your best friend's shoulders shake hysterically, "Do you plan on becoming a photogrammetrist?"

"A what-"

"A photo. Gram. Et. Rist,"

Silently, you stare at Seokjin with his plump lips poised in a side grin while he attempts to maintain a straight face. With the way your eyebrows are furrowed so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it resulted with a wrinkle smack dab in the middle of your forehead.

 "... No,"

"Okay," Seokjin claps once, "Then all you have to worry about is acing this class.”

You can't help but squint at him, his amusement making you want to playfully smack his shoulder. Although the idea of having to deal with this class for the rest of the semester makes you thrust your head back with impatience, "And how am I going to do that?"

"Because I'm not going to let you fail," his words catch you off guard, especially when you raise your head to meet his gaze. How you ever deserved a friend as loyal as him you will never be sure, but you give him a soft smile, before he clears his throat, "So, if I were you, I'd write that X so we can focus on finishing the rest of the problem,"

It's hard to snap back to reality just to continue overthinking a Geometry problem, but you reluctantly lean forward anyways, obeying Seokjin's orders. After you carefully write the X onto the lopsided triangle he had drawn earlier, you look over at him, his eyes tunnel visioning before him while he slowly draws a circle.

"Thank you," you murmur, him pausing just to glimpse at you,

"Anytime."

And that's the day Seokjin wanted nothing more than to reach for your hand, but he desisted, merely distracting himself with the shapes and numbers he needed to create in order to help you solve them. Without your knowledge of his inner fight with telling you how he feels, you lay your head on his shoulder, the perfect pillow for your exhausted mind. And him taking in the smell of your lavender shampoo whilst struggling to scribble the final equation beneath one of the angles of another triangle he's drawn. By the end of the night, you are closer to fully understanding the gist of geometry- Seokjin applauding you through it all with him even closer to falling even more in love with the determined soul that you are.

 *

Lack of sleep is an understatement, especially right now while you roam to the breakroom to fill a cup of water just to return to your desk. Namjoon scheduled another project for you to complete within the next week or two- one you must present to your coworkers at the staff meeting coming up soon. The phone has been ringing off the hook- not allowing you one moment of peace. Three weeks officially at the job, and you were able to break from the trainer in confidence that your skills have been met for the company.

Other lists of things tangle a web within your mind; you also have to run to the grocery store to stock up the pantry, write a check for the bills due in a few days, make sure laundry is caught up, and you have yet to unpack some of the boxes from first moving nearly a month ago. Not to mention, calling your sister every other evening to check up on her pregnancy. Despite it all, it's the side grin of a handsome face that waltzes into your office once you settle into your chair to finish up a phone call with a client that fills you with ease. Including him setting a steaming cup of coffee onto a coaster decorating your desk.

"Oh, Jin!" you gasp, "You don't- you didn't- you- I just, why are you so kind," you stammer, causing him to smile at your worn-out frame who ultimately accepts the coffee, blowing into the lid to cool the liquid before taking a sip. 

He descends into his chair, his legs stretching before him while a giddy smile adorns your face. You hate being so obvious, but with the way Seokjin has been visiting you every single workday with laughter and little things you'd never expect him to notice after all this time. It’s as if your heart has finally found something to confide in- a place of serenity.

"Listen, if it's anything like how my first year was here, then caffeine is the treatment to survive," he pokes the back of your hand while your chest burns with an ache forming in your cheeks from hiding the dozens of giddy grins.  

"Thank you," you murmur, your eyes dropping to your coffee cup to twirl it, a habit Seokjin has picked up on as well as the coffee flavors you tend to order. New things about you that he's gradually learning from the girl you no longer are from what feels like a previous life.

"So," he leans forward, resting his elbows upon his knees, both of your eyes connecting while he rubs his hands together, "Have you thought about tonight?"

A knowing smile naturally spreads across your face at his question. A question he asked a few days ago on if you'd like to go on a date one evening. And though that is definitely something you really want, with all the errands you have to run, you know tonight may not work out.

Nipping at your thumb, you contemplate, "Actually, can I make a proposal?"

He investigates your expression, leaning back just enough to fully see your face, "Should I be scared?"

"No," you retort, folding your arms across your desk, "I just- I- I have a lot of errands to run, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with?" His playful gaze softens as you jump to explain, "Mae is staying at my mom's tonight to visit her, or else she'd be with me. I guess, erm, I would just like the company, you know if-if you're up for it, I, uh-"

His large hands move to steal yours which distracts you enough for your words to trail off. His fingers interlock while his sweet expression refuses to break from your nervous face, steadying you just enough to feel the world around you stop.

"Hey," his voice is soft, his face now a few inches from yours, "I'd love to."

It's then your eyes cut to his lips that part just enough to tempt you. The yearn to kiss him waves within your chest and with the way the tips of his thumbs tickle tender circles along the palms of your hands, you know you're a goner. Seokjin leans closer because the desire beckoning you mirrors his own. His nose brushes yours until-

The sudden ring of the phone causes the two of you to jolt. Both pairs of eyes widen as your heart hammers against your rib cage.

"Oh, um, I, um, I better take this," you frantically reach for the phone, Seokjin clearing his throat as he throws you a thumbs up in understanding.

"I'll meet you at your place to pick you up. See you tonight.”

You nod at him whilst simultaneously trying to gather the question the client has on the line. There have been a few guys here and there you tried to court, but you were always way too afraid to take the next step, not only because you were terrified of the commitment, because you also wanted the right person who would protect and care for your daughter as much as you do. You can’t help but wonder how your daughter would feel if you were to admit to her about your interest in your former best friend; in your heart you know Mae would adore Seokjin, and you know Seokjin would do anything for Mae if given the chance. It’s just all in the timing, you try to tell yourself, but you can’t shake the guilt that you are seeing somebody without consulting with how Mae would feel especially since she recently asked about… her dad.

Thankfully, time flies by, until you find yourself preparing for the evening with Seokjin. Him showing up at the time he texted you he'd be arriving, you send a quick message to your mother to check up on Mae, before letting him whisk you away to the world of adulting. The grocery store is a place you never thought would be fun with anyone else other than your daughter. Turns out there is room for one more. Seokjin cracks jokes from left to right in order to ease your nerves. You end up giggling to the point that you can't breathe. As a result, all you can wonder is how you've never seen him in such a different light. In high school, he was strictly a friend to you, nothing more. Yet the way he's making your heart flutter it's as if the universe was made for just the two of you.

Finishing up errands, Seokjin points with his thumb at the remaining boxes you have yet to unpack. The gesture caused you to shrug with the excuse that you'll get to them at some point. This means the only thing left to do (after the two of you file into your home to unload the groceries and put them away) is to throw the laundry in the washer.

"Ugh," you exhale, running tired hands through your hair, "Finally, all done!"

As you are standing there with nothing else that requires immediate attention, you sense a shift in the air between you. It’s no lie that there has been a lingering tension. You meet his gaze. 

Seokjin's breathy laugh escapes through his smile as he approaches you, his hands reaching to settle onto your waist while your arms move to tangle behind his neck. The heat of his chest nearly smothers you with happiness. 

“Finally," he whispers, his forehead pressing to yours while you take in the way his heart is pounding in accord with yours. Unbeknownst to you, his finally isn't said with the same intention as yours. His finally is said with the hope he's never lost in winning your heart, making it a promise to win your heart every single day if you'll let him. When his hands then move slowly to wrap behind your back, your faces cuddle. The feeling of his strong arms holding you so tight you never want him to let go.

He is still mind blowing. Even with just the simple acts of him standing at your doorstep at the start of the evening with the way his hair is tint with slight waviness. His brown eyes timorously meet yours while his hands hide within the pockets of his pants. His loose dark denim jacket swallows his frame while the black hood rests against his back. All of these are simple… but so mind blowing. The way your heart moved at the sight of him, you can hardly register the sentiment you can't put into words. Right now, you are still speechless, you want to get lost in the moment with him. A million moments if possible.

Eyes closed, breathing steady. You kiss him. The warmth and softness of his lips causes you to melt as he leans into you. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss whilst the emotions pour out. Your back presses to the couch from moving backward. His frame towers over you, yet your hands find the tufts of his hair, refusing to let him break the kiss in any way.

Clothes start to fall to the floor once you lead Jin to your bedroom, letting his love overwhelm you in ways you've longed for since the two of you reunited. Bare bodies intertwine underneath the covers. Kisses placed on every inch of your skin, exchanging whispers of admiration for one another with his hands caressing you so gently you can hardly breathe.

The two of you become one, ending the evening with both of you crashing side by side. He immediately turns to hold you while you bundle your face into the crook of his neck. Words aren't needed to fill the silence, just the sound of his breathing and beating heart are enough to make you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Even when the morning comes, the beams from the sun brighten your bedroom while the happiness creases at the corners of Jin’s eyes. His bare body is still glued to you, and you bundle the covers over your mouth as you timidly return his gaze. The tips of his fingers tickle along your skin while you get lost in him- snuggling you closer just to now tangle his long fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck. Lust grows in the pupils of your eyes as you watch him move to hover above you as things start to get heated yet again and he shuffles to place kisses along your abdomen until he reaches your inner thighs.

Moaning in response to his every touch, the ceiling fan wafts cool air along your exposed frame as Seokjin throws the comforter to the side so he can watch the pleasure fill your expression. Goosebumps domino upon your arms as you try to say his name, hips rising in reaction to the tip of his tongue swiping your heat. He slides forward to add more pressure of his lapping tongue along your entrance while he fully embraces your thighs with each arm. His movements against your core are so enthralling, you curve one of your legs behind his shoulders, “Oh Jin- oh fuck, baby you feel so fucking good- ah!”

Just when your eyes start to roll back, Jin runs his fingers from the middle of your torso to where your nipples start to bud from the chilly air of the room though your body is burning from the intense passion stirring between you two. His tongue still speedily moves continuing to lather up any bit of your taste he can while simultaneously beginning to rub his fingers ever so gently upon your nipples while you moan even louder. The strong sense rising in your core is so strong, your palm slams against the bed frame while Seokjin relentlessly enjoys his time with you.

Jin starts sucking on your clit after circling his tongue over your entrance messily before the orgasm starts to build even more, “Keep going,” you breathlessly say, “Keep going baby, ah-!” Your thighs tense as your body fidgets to the powerful sensation, leaving your thighs clenching as Jin watches you smile at how amazing he feels. “Holy fuck,” you squeal, Seokjin shifting to sit on his knees while his chin glistens from the juice of your heat. You lay there, your limbs feeling limp in response to everything, and your calves are pressed against the side of Seokjin’s frame as he watches you closely, so happy to see the woman of his dreams returning the bliss after all this time. “How am I supposed to recover from that?”

Quickly, the pair of you freshen up after sharing a few more lightheaded chuckles, brushing your teeth, and snickering at the trail of clothes in the hallway. After you mouth wash, Seokjin wraps his arms around you from behind to place a slow kiss to your neck- the heat of his skin causing you to feel dizzy while your core lets out a warm gush for the billionth time within twelve fanatical hours. The way his body moved with yours from the night before has you giddy, and thankful you gave sex another chance. Especially with someone you are truly having deep emotions for. A mischievous tip to the corner of your lips reflects in the bathroom mirror as you reminisce on the way Seokjin easily succumbed you to a desire you are addictingly going to dream about for the rest of your life, so why not return the sinful favor? Spinning in his arms, you flit your gaze along his face while you bite at your bottom lip, “You up for round two? Or would it be round three? I wasn’t done,” you coo seductively, just to cuddle to his face again.

“Oh no, what are you trying to do to me?” Seokjin moves a hand to cup your cheek, kissing your lips once while you whisper against his mouth.

“I said…” you murmur, gliding your fingers from his v-line to his chest, “I. Wasn’t. Done.” It doesn’t matter how tall Jin is compared to you. You push up on your tip toes to crash your lips more passionately with his while you push him in the direction of your shower. The minty taste of his tongue collides with yours as you then graze your teeth along his bottom lip giving it a nice, slow suck. If you are going to tease him, you want to tease him just right. Letting you take control, Seokjin inhales a quick breath as you trace his face, reaching behind him to switch on the shower, waiting for the steam of the water to start engulfing the bathroom.

“I’m a little scared,” Seokjin teases with a grin, and you nearly fall into his frame at the feel of his erection now pressing against your figure. This is a side of you that you never thought he’d see, but you do not want the excitement to end here.

“Step in,” you say softly, feeling the water drip between your fingers. Jin obeys immediately and you jerk the shower curtain closed as soon as your bodies mold underneath the pouring water. Arms holding each other tightly, you gasp into his kiss as the pair of you stay entranced, and his eyes widen in surprise when you slightly pull away just enough to give him a hinting glance. At this point, he is innocently reaching for the shampoo to start massaging your tangled strands, but you have something else in mind. Droplets of water linger upon his skin while you start to kneel, taking in the sight of his being which prompts your mouth to water.

“Oh,” Seokjin realizes, trying with all his might not to pounce on you with what he is witnessing before him. He is so turned on by you he can hardly stand it. You start with his tip, clamping your lips around it to run your tongue over his precum before you start to allow him further into your mouth. Taking an agonizingly long suck, you are even more aroused by the low moan he releases. Your hands move to grip his hips when you start hollowing your cheeks to suck even faster, bobbing your head while hot water trickles down your back. He doesn’t use his hand to guide you, he simply rests his hand on your head to keep himself from flipping you over to clap against your ass while you scream his name, letting you continue to give him the high of his life. You are surprised with how much drive all of this is giving you and maybe you didn’t realize how deprived you have been from physical intimacy.

Something about Seokjin just gave you the ultimate determination to please him and you know it is because of how much you have fallen for him in such a short amount of time. One palm moves to start rubbing his scrotum, him leaning his head back in pure ecstasy as you continue to move your mouth deliciously over his erection. You don’t even know where time has taken you at this point other than your back is on the bottom of the tub while Seokjin thrusts inside you- lips clinging to yours while you gasp in awe at how nothing, but magic seems to capture in every caress of his kiss.

Finishing, the water washes away his cum that seeps onto your inner thighs. “Oops,” he chuckles, falling into the crook of your neck while you squeeze your legs from the sensitivity.

“I’m not complaining,” you smile, eventually helping each other stand to start the shampooing. You don’t want to say it too soon, but everything he has done for you since you have known him makes you want to say it. Looking into the sweetness in his eyes, you want to confess exactly every thought turning within your brain cells. But you can’t and you are uncertain of why. Or maybe you just refuse to admit why because you haven’t given your daughter the closure about who her dad is. And your daughter comes first.

After cleaning up, the squeak of the shower knob signals the water being cut off and you reach for a few towels so that the pair of you can dry off. Jin slips out to start gathering his clothes knowing he has a few errands to run regarding work, and you must prepare to pick up Mae once you get the house organized properly. Wrapping a towel around your bare frame, Seokjin is fully dressed ruffling his hair while he waits in the hallway for you. He holds your outfit from the day before in his palm, yet you swiftly brush the tangles from your wet hair before parading to where he stands.

Sadness starts to etch in your expression, “I don’t want you to go.” You murmur, him handing you your clothes, so he can free his arms to hug you closer. Peering up at him, he leans in to press a slow kiss to your lips before resting his forehead to yours. There’s a strong silence between you two as Seokjin battles internally with what he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to go either, and his feelings that he has always had for you have returned but in full force- overwhelming him especially as he holds you in this very moment. How can he say it? He has been waiting for what feels like his whole life to tell you how he feels, so where does he even start?

Being with you is magic, it’s like he is in Heaven, and now you are finally sharing this dream of being together with him, and in a way, it doesn’t feel real all the same. “Trust me, I have every intention of seeing you outside of work.”

“Good,” you smile, “You’re fun.”

“Was I not before?” He smirks, moving to kiss your forehead, the tip of your nose, your closed eyelids- he peppers kisses down the side of your jaw while you teasingly shove him away.

“Eh, you talked about math too much,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing that anymore. That ship sailed when I turned twenty-seven. Now, I talk about physics.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you scoff, “Same damn thing.”

Seokjin kisses you quickly, “Is that so,” he remarks, smacking your toweled ass once you turn on a heel.   

 *

"Is there a reason why you're glowing. You’re acting like you got laid." Monnie promenades along the house, cleaning out small boxes you have yet to unpack still; glaring at her when she attempts to lift heavier boxes which of course you rush to take them from her. "I have muscles, ya know," your sister arches an eyebrow while she rests her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, muscles that need to remain intact when holding your soon-to-be child," you remind her, completely dismissing the surprise you feel at how well your sister knows you after all. You set the box onto the dining table. Wiping the dust off your hands, you meet her shaking head, "And you're not supposed to be lifting anything whatsoever; hence why I have a much safer favor to summon from you,"

Monnie tilts her head, "Depends,"

"I'll buy you the reddest, most bitter wine whenever you are on maternity leave and unpregnant,"

"I'm listening,"

"Sit down,"

"Not until you tell me why you're more chipper than Yoongi's dog."

Chortling, you shake your head at your sister's consistent arched eyebrow.

"Maybe," you rush into the living room to finish dusting the shelves, your voice echoing behind you, the sound of Monnie's hands reaching into the cardboard box heard beneath your voice, "Maybe I have met someone. Well… re-met someone… and got laid."

"Um, excuse me!?” Your sister gasps, "You know I'm going to need more details than that! Do I know him?" Though Monnie's voice sounds concentrated, your auditory senses tune in to the sound of rapidly flipping pages. “And… Was it delicious?”

Snickering to yourself about her choice of complimenting words, you pause, "Possibly, you may know him. He was my best friend in high school if you remember. Happens to work at the same company I do now. Kim Seokjin?" Just the memory of his gentle fingertips running along your arms the following morning- his gaze never faltering while he soaked in every inch of your face. The blooming smile that seems to spread upon your lips images the swelling joy within your heart. “And yes, he is very good in the bedroom.”

You hear Monnie fake gag in disgust despite her asking about your sex life which prompts you to shake your head as you giggle. "Oh girl, he is cute! How could you not tell me about this hunk muffin? I can see why you finally got re-defloured."

"Please, Monnie, for the love of fucking sanity, do not say that phrase ever again!" you snort, then you pause in surprise, "you found him that fast? How-?"

"I'm on the senior section of your yearbook, and he's the only Seokjin I see so far, so girl go get that bread and devour it,"

"Gladly," you circle the living room for any spots you may have missed- the turning of pages being the main sound the next few minutes while you hum your favorite song beneath your breath.

"Hey!" Your sister's voice calls, "I didn't know Mae's teacher went to school with you!?"

"Oh? Maybe she and I were friends! What's her name?" Giving one more swipe onto the bureau holding the TV, you walk back to the dining room where Monnie examines the pictures within your old yearbook. When your sister's focus doesn't dissipate, you snap your fingers, "Hey, are you present?"

"Oh, sorry, I got distracted," she turns the page, "Oh, look, I found you!"

"Ick!” you raise your hands high while you slam your eyes closed, “Please don't show me the younger me. I’d rather talk about sex.”

"Wait a minute," your sister's eyebrows furrow while her stare remains fastened to the book, "Oh my, how he's grown!"

"He?" Confusion clouds your expression, especially since you assumed Mae's teacher was a female.

"Yeah, who did you expect?" 

Mouth ajar, you comb back through your memory while Monnie meets your gaze. "Now that I think of it... I don't think anyone ever told me who Mae's teacher is. Here, just let me take a look at the picture,"

Monnie shrugs, "Okay," handing the open book to your outstretched hand. Your fingertips run along the smooth page until your eyes find the face you didn't expect to see. The pang of pure shock stuns your entire being while your eyes enlarge- heart pounding luridly you hardly hear Monnie's concerned tone trying to catch your attention, "So, were you close friends or what?" Hands unsteady, goosebumps raise among your arms- it's like you're frozen in time- eyes refusing to avert from the photo staring back at you. "Y/N? What's going on? Did he hurt you or something? What happened?" your sister's voice blurs through the fog suffocating your mind while nausea gathers in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh my God," you mouth, "Oh my God," heated tears stain your wide eyes while your body trembles uncontrollably. Your throat feels so tight that you aren’t even sure if you are truly breathing.

"Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you!? I seriously don't have time to cater to everyone's needs here. I have needs and that is this baby needs to come out so if you do not start talking, I’m-"

"It's- it's- I-" you stammer, feeling so faint, you are surprised you are still standing.

"Were you two a... Couple?"

Your eyes immediately meet your sister’s infuriated gaze, terror takes its toll over you before you can say more, pleading for her to interpret whatever attempt at telepathy you're sending her while the yearbook slips from your numb fingers just to smack the ground. "Did you-" It's then it dawns on her, words dying off her tongue- eyebrows rising, lips parting in a small gasp; hand raising to cover her mouth when she puts two and two together. ".... Oh," she steps backward as if to steady herself from the mutual tremor overwhelming both your systems. "Holy shit," she breathes, bending forward to grip a chair in front of her. Your eyelids are heavy when you fight through the dizzy spell swarming your fatigued head, your mind hardly registering your sister's continued hunched frame before the sound of water splats onto the wooden floor, jolting you to your senses. "Y/N," Monnie's voice breaks in pain, trying to endure the harsh contraction waving within her body, "Y/N, call Yoongi. Now. AAGH-"

"Oh, shit- oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit!" Realization hits you after your feet rush to where your purse is, fumbling with quivering fingers for your car keys, thrusting your sister's arm around your shoulders while you lead her to the passenger seat- your sister is about to have a baby, and she's about to have this baby soon. Monnie's breaths are steady, yet she winces with every contraction, your panicking expression hardly able to focus on the road the moment you dial Yoongi's number, swerving out of the driveway in the direction of the hospital, "Are you okay!?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm not letting this baby be birthed in your damn car, now drive!"

It doesn't take long until you've reached Yoongi- him frantic once it's revealed he's about to be a father, him also promising to pick up your mother and to pick up Mae from school- the three planning to meet you and Monnie at the hospital as soon as possible. Your sister grips the handle above the car window, inhaling and exhaling deeply with her eyes slammed shut. Your heart rams against your sternum, sweat beading on your forehead focusing solely on the road ahead still processing what has happened in such little time.

Mae's father has been right in front of her since you moved back without your knowledge- the guilt encompassing your mind faster than you can decipher- and right now, your sister is in labor, relying on your distressed driving to get both of you to the hospital in one piece.

Though the sudden turn of events shoves the lingering discovery in the back of everyone's minds for the time being laying open at home, in disarray on the floor holds a picture that was taken senior prom of high school, the night emotions were professed, and slovenly kisses were shared; one that unraveled the familiar pair of eyes squinted from a wide smile.

Despite it all, there is only one person other than your daughter that you can't stop thinking about, and with one swoop, you dial his number, inwardly begging just to hear his voice,

"Jin," you choke, fighting the tears the second he answers, "Jin, I need you,"

 *

Seokjin left for college long before you greeted your senior year with a bang, heart moved on from your parents’ divorce, and you and your sister had a bond of steel, yet there were some things you limited from telling her. You never expected to meet him, the man who would capture your heart in ways you couldn’t explain, on your very first day of senior year, his hair tousled, eyes searching the hallways to memorize where he would be going, lips pursed in concentration. You offered to help him- revealing schedules to see the two of you shared a few of the same classes- walking together side by side sharing laughter and contagious smiles- your heart pounding with every brush of his warmth. You informed Seokjin of the newfound love every afternoon when you’d call, completely unaware of the pain you were causing him with every story.

It took months before your crush kissed you for the first time- lips gentle on yours, experiencing new things together- whispering dreams into the night when he would sneak visits to the treehouse while your mother was asleep. It was toward the end of the school year, after applying to several different colleges between the pair of you, that he was accepted to the university of his dreams- a full-ride scholarship that would bring him one step closer to fulfilling his dream job as a psychologist - even observed by coaches of college sports teams who begged him to join their sides.

The same day he reported his exciting news to you- was the same day you gripped the end of the pregnancy test, the red plus sign burning into your memory forever- while an overwhelming toll of fear traced every fiber of your being. You couldn’t destroy his chance- his chance of gaining a college degree, to play his favorite sports and possibly winning the world as your heart soared for his every success. Even seeing Seokjin when he’d be home visiting from college, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him of your plan; knowing he would talk you out of it if you were to confess.

It was graduation day when you last saw the father of your child- he kissed you so lovingly that you couldn’t hold the tears back while he hugged you.

“I love you,” he pressed his forehead to yours, assuming your tears were from accomplishing high school, unbeknownst to the real reason, your heart was bursting at the seams. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, his thumbs stroking your cheeks while his nose traces the tip of yours. “I’ll never forget you,” You whispered. He was distracted by his buddies who surrounded him with handshakes, his ears missing your final statement. His happiness was all you cared about, and with one final goodbye, you rushed home, packed your bags, and left as soon as you double checked your savings account for money, you saved up from your job you obtained your junior year. You blocked every number on your phone aside from your parents and your sister- notifying them of your pregnancy when you stumbled upon Monnie in a convenience store an hour out of the way- a convenience store her boyfriend at the time worked at- her eyes wide with the sight of your bulging belly- realization mingled with anger evident within her expression while pained tears brimmed her eyes. You cautiously ran to your car, refusing to look back. 

It took the birth of your daughter, holding her in your arms for you to finally find the joy you had robbed yourself from for what seemed like a lifetime. Her small smile brought a new hope- a new beginning. At the time, you knew you could do this- be a mother. Be her everything- the same as she will be your everything- promising to love her unconditionally until the day you die. Even if the picture of his face haunts your dreams for the rest of your life, you'll accept it, because at least you have the bundle swaddled in a pink blanket, beaming up at you as if you're the only one she will ever need.

*

Seokjin fumbles with his car keys while he enters the elementary school, clipping them to his belt loop. The clear hallways pave glistening tile floors underneath long lit lights that align the ceilings.

Scents of disinfectants waft to his nostrils while he grips his coffee cup, waving toward the principal, Kim Taehyung, who he used to go to college with back in the day. You’re the only one etched in his mind- the way the sun glimmered upon your face until your eyes fluttered open to shine with the rays. Or the way you kissed him so lovingly before he left- returning a smile to him every time he steps foot into your office.

After seven years without your presence, he never expected for you to return- pulling his heart into your direction absentmindedly, yet this time he can finally express his heart- something he never dreamed he’d have the chance to do. Guilt sweeps within his conscious for there is a secret he has kept from you- one he felt wasn’t his place to say, yet he approaches the classroom, knocking on the already open door.

“Ah, Seokjin!” Jimin’s cheery tone echoes, him immediately rising from his creaking chair, “Did Taehyung put you up to it?” Seokjin chuckles, Jimin reaching for his hand just to pull him in a quick hug.

“Nah, I just wanted to give you my condolences,” Seokjin’s eyes hold concern when Jimin’s face contorts in a grim expression. Jimin’s grandmother, who happened to be the inspiration for his switch of majors in college, passed away a week ago- Seokjin received the news from mutual friends promising to pay Jimin a visit, “I’m really sorry about your grandma. She was very kind,” Jimin’s Grandmother really helped the two of them throughout college when they would come home to visit- cooking them meals and sharing words of wisdom when they felt like giving up.

Memories that helped Seokjin and Jimin heal when they lost you.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” Jimin pats the back of Seokjin’s shoulder to rest his hands upon his hips, “But, anyway, enough about me, what has been going on with you? Any promotions at your job? I know you mentioned a few new people were going to be hired a month ago,”

Seokjin turns to lean against the whiteboard which happens to be freshly cleaned, scoping the empty classroom assuming the kids are at recess. A grin tugs on his lips especially when a flash of your smile sends a warmth he seems to miss- though, he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkward tension that he doesn’t want Jimin to detect.

“Everything’s been great with the new hires, but as far as a promotion, Namjoon and I have discussed it, but I turned it down. It would mean I’d have to move companies, and I don’t necessarily want to do that-”

Frilly voices mingled with padding footsteps resonate within the hallway distracting Seokjin as his eyes trace to the door of the classroom. “You turned it down? I thought you’ve been waiting for this for years!” Jimin, being immune to the sounds since he hears it consistently, waits patiently for Seokjin to reply. But it’s the silhouette of a young girl skipping to a desk following suit to other pupils doing the same that catches Seokjin off guard to the point his focus dissolves. Her toothy smile identical to the photo placed upon your desk, the realization hitting Seokjin in a pained confusion.

“Mae?” Seokjin murmurs to the point it’s inaudible. His eyebrows furrow, the coffee cup sitting loosely in his hand.

“Hey, Jin,” Jimin’s forehead crinkles in worry, Seokjin stammering when he returns to reality, gripping the coffee cup tighter to prevent it from slipping to the floor, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, eyes scanning Jimin’s desk with the realization that there aren’t any frames of his daughter- the one sitting across from him in the classroom- which plagues the realization that Seokjin has battled with for some time since he reunited with you.

Mae’s gaze flickers between the two men- wondering who the man conversating with Mr. Park is- his hand shoving into his pants pocket while he holds a coffee cup in his free hand. She tilts her head curiously when the men’s’ tones are hushed- that’s when a friend of hers taps on her shoulder to show her a drawing she made during class earlier that morning.

“Sorry, heartburn,” Seokjin’s save seems believable once he pats his chest- Jimin offering an antacid which Seokjin politely declines. When a call at Jimin’s desk rings, he apologetically looks at Jin with a ‘duty calls’ look.

“Well, it was great seeing you,” Jimin shakes his hand, “Taehyung’s golf crew are heading out next weekend. I figured he mentioned it to you, but if you’d like to come, I can send you all the details,”

“Of course, thank you,” Seokjin shares his goodbyes until Jimin answers the phone. Jin steps out of the classroom wishing he had fresh air to breathe. From what he can tell, Jimin is unaware of the little girl who is his own flesh and blood; something Seokjin knows isn’t his place to know, yet the inward betrayal- what if she was his daughter? Would you have kept this away from him? He always assumed that you and Jimin had everything figured out, but with this epiphany, now it all makes sense as to why Jimin never spoke of Mae because he clearly has no idea that he is her father. Seokjin doesn’t want to be selfish- that’s the last thing he ever wants to be- but, in this situation, upon the discovery of your deepest secret, he doesn’t know how to process it- trying so hard to understand your side even though it’s never been discussed.

Sprinting to his car, he settles inside, turning on the air conditioner in full blast while he sets his coffee cup into a cup holder, running his palms along his face tuning everything out. Everyone has secrets and nobody is perfect, but here he is struggling with the thought of possibly being a hypocrite. How can he be angry that you kept your daughter a secret from her father when he’s been best friends with Jimin ever since you left? And how can he admit to Jimin that he’s in love with a woman who happens to be the mother of his daughter?

The pain surges through Seokjin’s chest, stabbing every fiber of his heart- wishing nothing more than to hear your voice. Something that will take away this agony even if for a moment. Minutes drag until the vibration of his cellphone prompts him to open his anxious eyes, reaching for the device to see your name lit up on the screen.

It doesn’t take long before he answers, “Hello?” He breathes, relief flooding his senses.

“Jin,” your voice wavers, “Jin, I need you.”

 -

Sparse memories flicker from when you were in labor, blurrily seeing the rectangular lights on the ceiling as you were raced to a hospital room. Fear gripping your figure amongst the pain of contractions and going through the birth of your daughter all alone. You remember the comfort of the nurses and the kindness of the doctor, and she talked you through every step until your daughter was finally bundled in your arms. Now, it’s your sister’s turn. Although, you have no recollection of how you made it to the emergency entrance where your heart is pounding through your temples and the anxiety is roaring inside your chest.

Monnie breathes as steadily as she can as you rush to the passenger door to retrieve her. You are uncertain how you even alerted the hospital staff to make their way to your car- an attractive, young guy in scrubs with the name tag, Jeongguk, rolls a wheelchair to Monnie’s side while another nurse in blue scrubs named LenLen tries to get the information from you as you muster whatever words you can to answer the questions to lead Monnie to her main physician for the birth. You do not even remember helping Monnie out of the car, and when you start to follow the nurses wheeling your sister into the building, you hardly expect the grasp of your shirt dragging you to your sister’s gritted teeth and desperate plea.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Monnie can hardly speak through the pain, her cheeks flushing as you stare at her incredulously.

“What do you mean what am I doing!? You are about to have a baby! I’m not fucking leaving your side!”

“The hell you are! You’ve got to tell Mae’s teach- father, you are going to tell Mae’s father everything before I put you in the hospital myself!”

“Did you not hear me!? I’m not leaving your side-”

“I’ll be in labor longer than you think. And, if you don’t leave now, you’re going to run out of time- AAGH- So GO- AAGH-”

“Monnie-!” The nurses are helplessly watching the pair of you verbally battle match loudly, and you try to calm down, but right now there is no such thing as calming down. “What about Mae!? I can’t just leave her! And what about Jin? He’s on his way!”

“I will take care of Mae-!” Monnie growls in pain. “I have Yoongi and Mom, and I’m sure Dad already booked a flight, so I will not be alone. And I’ll tell your boyfriend everything, but Mae is your priority right now and it’s about fucking time that she knows who her father is,” Monnie tries to meet your enlarged, hysterical eyes.  “I know you will be back as soon as you do the right thing. Now, hurry up and fucking go!”

“Okay!” You reply breathlessly, tears you hadn’t realized were muddling your vision fall down your cheeks in tepid paths. “Okay,” you choke, “I’ll do it.”

Monnie’s fingers detach from your shirt and you, crying, run to your car, hardly knowing what else to do other than panic. This is it. This is it- you have no choice but to face your biggest fear, and now that you know Mae’s father has been right here all along, you can’t help the humiliation you feel and are going to feel once you share to him the biggest secret you have ever kept from him. Choking back sobs, you barely can remember what the name of her school is from how distraught you are, but your shaking fingers try to type the name you believe it is until the GPS pulls it up.

There is no escaping this, and you have the route ready as the voice directs you on every turn.

 -

His kiss made you melt every time, and the first time you both became one, he was so gentle, and loving despite the discomfort of it all. Of course, the curiosity and the learning involving intimacy became an addiction you two couldn’t stop, especially when your body was starting to enjoy it. You weren’t on birth control in high school, so it should have been expected that you would have become pregnant. But what you didn’t expect was how you were going to break the news to him when he had so much on his plate already. Kids were never a conversation unless marriage was the topic. Being so young, marriage was a huge assumption during that time because you thought you would get to spend the rest of your life with him.

You were in love with him once, and the thought of seeing him again scares you. Not only because you are about to tell him something that you have no idea what his reaction will be, but that his reaction will be what will prompt whether you tell Mae the truth or not. Mae being front row in her teacher’s life, why would you want her to know who her father is if her father doesn’t accept her after all? What if he becomes so angry with you that he dismisses his own daughter? And do you blame him? Of course not. You hiding your daughter away from him is your mistake. Or was it really a mistake to begin with?

Guiltily, you know what you did was wrong. He was never the kind of person who would mistreat someone from what you remember, and in your heart, you know he would have been a great father. But it’s never too late. Mae is only seven years old. She still has her whole life ahead of her, so maybe… just maybe he will see past your betrayal and give Mae a chance to be in his life, but as her father, not her elementary school teacher. How is this even a possibility? You could kick yourself for not paying attention. It’s been a month and you still had no idea who Mae’s teacher was. But is this how it all was supposed to pan out?

When the school comes into sight, you brace yourself as you turn into the parking lot. You notice the buses are gone and the majority of the cars seen most likely belong to the teachers finishing out whatever paperwork they have on their desk. You wonder which car is his, and you choose a spot closest to the entrance. Even though the weather isn’t that chilly yet, your hands feel like ice, and as you robotically walk towards the building after exiting your car, you breathe in and out deeply before reaching the door.

The nerves are so strong, your head starts to ache, and embarrassingly, as Mae’s mother, you don’t even know where Mae’s classroom is. Someone in your peripherals must have noticed your confused state and approached, “Hello, I’m Hoseok, the assistant principal, do you need assistance?”

Jumping slightly, you hope he doesn’t notice the redness of your eyes from the crying, but you manage to steady yourself enough to force a smile. “Yes, I’m looking for my daughter’s classroom. I, um, have a meeting with her teacher.”

“Ah, of course! I hope it’s all good news to report. We are sending out their progress papers soon with their current grades, but if you have any further questions, you can contact her teacher via email. May I ask who it is?”

“Yes!” You appreciate his smile and his willingness to help, because you are so frazzled, you are shocked that you are speaking anything audibly. “Um, Mr. Park. Is he still in?” You try not to make it sound like a question to feel like you are a good mother for knowing, not really, who your daughter’s teacher is. Plus, you really are hoping he is still here.

“Right down this hallway to the left, classroom 58.” Hoseok points in the direction and you thank him profoundly for his help, clutching the strap of your purse while your mouth runs dry. The swarm of nerves in your stomach grows stronger to the point that you feel nauseous as you step down the hallway while your vision blurs with more tears. 

C’mon, you can do this. You must do this. Mae deserves this. He deserves to know.

You pause when the number 58 above the door frame enters your line of vision, and you feel the ice of your hands start to frost your entire body. This is it; you exhale slowly, this is it. Stepping cautiously to the door that you see is wide open, you carefully peer in, your heart stopping as your fingers move to press against your trembling lips. He nonchalantly is shifting through a pile of papers, his expression concentrating as his cheek rests against his fist from how his elbow is leaned on the top of his desk.

He is exactly how you remember him except his hair is a tad longer, and his jawline is much sharper from aging into his mid-twenties. His thick lips are lined pleasantly in a faint grin and a Styrofoam cup rests diagonally from the papers. He still looks beautiful, so innocent. How could you have ever left him the way you did? Now, things are different, your heart belongs to someone else, and you hope he has his heart set on someone else too and if he does, will that person be accepting of his seven-year-old daughter? Or, that you are from his past and will now be his present if he does happen to accept his daughter once it is revealed to him? You honestly have no idea what to expect from any of this, but you check out his left hand to see that there is no wedding ring though that doesn’t always mean anything considering people forget or have lost jewelry of any kind before.

You know you can’t stand there staring at him forever, yet you genuinely don’t even know where to start, so you just… start. 

“Jimin,” you say his name for the first time in years, and it sounds so bittersweet coming from your mouth. He lifts his head immediately to the sound of his name with an evident smile probably assuming you’re a coworker, and it takes him a few seconds to register exactly who he is seeing. Jimin’s eyes widen in profound astonishment as recognition forms in his expression, his mouth dropping open in silence.

Standing to his feet, he can hardly believe who he is staring at, and he refrains from rubbing his eyes. “Y/N? Is that… you?”

You can’t help the tears. Hot and streaming down your face, you sniffle while you try to nod and force a timid smile. “It is me, Jimin. How’ve… how’ve you been?”

Jimin’s expression shifts as he analyzes your words. Of all the things to say, after what felt like an eternity…you ask how he has been doing. In all honesty, he would have done the exact same thing.

When faced with the past, what else is there to say? There are missing pieces that need to be mended…but not all at once. 

Jimin has to respond somehow. 

“I don’t… I don’t even know where to begin, I’ve just been, well,” he has a hint of a nervous smile on his face, probably feeling just as awkward as you feel, and you are so overwhelmed by how kind he has remained all these years. Eventually he gestures with an arm toward the empty desks. “I’ve been- been working, but goodness, how long has it been? How are you doing?”

“I’m well,” you swipe a tear away knowing Jimin probably feels so helpless right now which makes you feel even worse. “I’ve gotten a new job not far from here, so… So, I came back to town.”

“Yeah, I-” Jimin stutters, trying to gather whatever words he can that make decent sentences, “I wondered where you went. I figured maybe a college farther away or if you decided to move with your dad. I never- I never knew where you decided to go in life.” 

The prevalent question you know he wants to ask is how you found him since his longtime dream was originally to be a psychologist. He probably is wondering if you reconnected with Seokjin, but how would Seokjin and Jimin know that you were back? You still are under the assumption that they were never super close when you all were younger.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you what was happening… I just didn’t know how.” You choke, your eyes dropping to the floor still struggling on how you were going to continue this conversation.

“Come- come in, come in, have a seat,” Jimin gestures toward a chair off to the side that he shuffles to place in front of his desk. You reluctantly take a seat, clasping your fingers together tightly to fight off the trembling, and it mildly helps.

“Thank you,” you whisper, letting Jimin return to his seat across from you.

“Of course,” he replies gently, struggling to find a box of tissues, concern consuming his entire countenance. “What brings you by? Is everything…okay?”

“I…” This is so hard for you, and you know it is because there are no words to fully get anyone to understand why their child was kept from them especially when they haven’t done anything wrong to deserve that. “Jimin…” The tears return.

“Hey…” Jimin used to hold you so tight if you cried, like Seokjin would, but with seven years behind you, it’s pretty clear that Jimin wanting or considering holding you is long gone. Now, he is staring at you in confusion and probably seeing you as a long-lost stranger. “I know I ended up changing career paths, but something is definitely bothering you and the best advice I can give is to let it out.”

Wiping away another tear, you nod in agreement, sniffling before you can speak, “I know… I just never really prepared for what I’m about to tell you. It’s like… I knew this day was going to come but I just didn’t know when or… How.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Jimin leans his elbows on his desk, “What… Wait, y/n, what do you mean? Did something happen?”

Running a sour tongue over your lips, you exhale a slow breath, “Seven years ago, I discovered something and thought at the time I was making the right decision by… by not telling you.” You can’t meet his eyes. “You had so much going for you, Jimin, I was… I was so scared that if I told you what I had just found out that you would reject me… or reject her.”

Jimin’s folded hands gradually move to lay completely upon the desk, his mind is trying to make sense of what you just said, yet he can’t. And he tries to form words, but he is so rattled that he gives no choice other than to listen.

“Jimin,” you brace yourself as your body tense. “Jimin, I was pregnant.”

You can see the horrified shock in his eyes as they enlarge and the way his chest caves from the sudden blow of pain and confusion spreading all over his rigid posture. “You… were what?” His voice is so quiet, so shaky from this revelation that he can’t even meet your eyes either. “Y/N, what are you saying?” A sob chokes you as you reach to touch his hand, but he shoves your hand away. “You were what?”

“I left,” you say between the tears, “I left because I was pregnant. I know I should have told you, but I was so scared, Jimin, I didn’t know what to do- I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up everything-”

Something is triggered in Jimin. Glass shatters in his heart. Broken. Broken and robbed is what he feels. 

“But that wasn’t just your choice to make!” Jimin shoves his chair back as he rakes his hands roughly through his hair with so many emotions he could vomit. 

“How could you keep this from me!? You mean all this time, losing sleep because I fucking lost you just to find out now that I had lost a child too!? My child. I have a… child, I-” His voice breaks as he tries to keep himself upright. You know he is angry, and he has every right to be. “How could you-!?”

You feel the weight of his anger. You deserve the weight of his anger. This is a piece of his life that was stripped away without his knowledge. It’s unfair to him. It’s unfair to Mae. You can’t possibly be upset with his response. 

“I thought I was making the right decision, Jimin, I’m so sorry, I will spend the rest of my life being sorry, but I owe it to her. She asks about you. She wants to know who you are, and I know I waited so long, but Jimin…” You breathe, “She has your eyes. She has your smile-”

“And yet you kept her from me.” Jimin grits his teeth, fighting tears of his own as he hastily paces back and forth. “How could you-!?”

“Listen…I know what I did was wrong, and I don’t deserve any form of forgiveness from you. You can- you can hate me. Hate me as much as you want, but please, I am begging you to give her a chance to be yours, too.” You plea. 

“Here-” Frantic, you fumble through your purse because you know exactly what you are looking for now. Your voice is ridden with despair and desperation to make things up to Mae, you unzip your wallet to the many small pictures you have kept over the years of Mae, and you find the most recent one where her toothy smile lights up the entire world. 

Laying the picture on Jimin’s desk, you stand to your feet, “Her name is Mae. She is your daughter. And I’m so sorry that I ruined any chance of her getting to truly know you as her father.” 

The pace of your heart quickens as you examine his features, waiting. You royally fucked up. You know it. But you owe it to them to try. To try again. 

Jimin’s heart is shattering, and it’s written all over his scorned face as tears drip from his cheeks. 

“I understand it may be too late. I may not know firsthand but…I can see how it would feel that way, but… She loved you even though she had no idea you were standing right in front of her.” 

The lingering pause that followed was deafening. You were drowning in the tension and agony. What else did you expect? There are years of pain unfolding before him. What else can you do? 

“I need….” Jimin’s lips tremble as he fixates on the picture of Mae. “Time…I need time to process. Please.” 

You gnaw on your lower lip to refrain from crying. You understand his need for space. You respect that. 

“Of course,” you whisper hoarsely. 

And with that, you saunter out of the room, waiting until you are safe in your car to wail out the pain, not realizing that Jimin falls to his knees as he clutches the picture of the gift he had no idea he had.

His daughter. His daughter who he recognizes to be the sweet student that sits a few rows back whose assignment she wrote was a letter to her missing father:

Him.

Monnie clutches the rails of the hospital bed with gritted teeth as another contraction surges. The nurses rush in colorful blurs hooking up IV fluids, preparing for IV catheter placement, placing all the instruments and tools out for the doctor and who knows what else. Of course, Monnie is worried about her sister and the hell she is about to go through with Mae’s teach- father, but one thing is for sure, she wishes her husband and her mother would hurry the hell up.

“Breathe as steadily as you can,” Jeongguk, the male nurse, reminds her as she slams her eyes shut from the pain. She can’t even focus on the needle being inserted into her arm for the IV catheter placement, because the labor pains overshadow any other pain she has ever experienced. Despite it all, she is so ready to meet her baby boy. The absolute gift she cannot wait to share with her beloved husband and soon-to-be father of their child, Min Yoongi. 

If only that curly headed ham would hurry up! 

Palms slam against the sides of the door frame ahead after some time, prompting Monnie to lift her eyes to the silhouette, but she doubles over in brief disappointment because it’s not Yoongi, but another man that takes her a moment to recognize. 

Wait a minute… Is that Seokjin? It has to be. He looks exactly like the picture in the yearbook that she saw earlier except his hair is longer and his face has matured from the boyish charm that showed in his high school portrait. He’s breathing as if he’s ran a mile, and his mouth is ajar while his chest swiftly moves in and out- in and out which disrupts the breathing pattern for Monnie unintentionally. 

“Please tell me you’re my sister’s boyfriend,” she says through clenched teeth, but not in an angry way, just to keep herself from screaming with these darned contractions.

“I-” He wets his lips cautiously as if taken by surprise at first until a small smile becomes evident but only for a small moment as if he abruptly remembers where he is, “Where is she?”

“Not. Here.” Monnie tries so hard to speak clearly, and it’s obvious to Seokjin that she is doing her best and he doesn’t press further. Plus, Monnie doesn’t know how much he knows about your situation, so maybe telling him everything isn’t such a good idea. She doesn’t want to reveal too much about where you actually are. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Monnie notices the nurses seem skeptical about Seokjin since he is not a relative, but Monnie waves an okay and appreciates Seokjin’s efforts at wanting to be of help. Especially, since she promised you that she’d take care of him when he arrived as well as Mae. Then, an idea strikes her. 

“Actually...” She exhales slowly. “I need to make an excuse for Mae as to why her mom’s not here yet.”

She understands Seokjin’s confusion. Her sister called him and was not at the hospital when he arrived. And him suddenly meeting your sister who is in the process of preparing to give birth is an awkward way to meet for the first time. 

“Okay,” Seokjin’s eyes show he’s trying to think of something, “Wha- what is her favorite fruit or snack? You can say she’s picking up something for you or- or for the baby-?”

“Yoongi loves tangerines.”

“Who-?” Seokjin’s lips form an O while his eyebrows scrunch.

“Just get me some tangerines. Who doesn’t love tangerin- AAGH-” Seokjin panics and helplessly takes his hands through his hair until Monnie recovers momentarily. “I’ll give you a cue somehow. I’ll say the word once after my husband, mom and niece arrive. Just keep your ears alive or y/n is gonna look real. Dumb.”

“Okay.” Seokjin nods once, stepping back immediately once his head jolts to see who is entering the hallway. “I won’t let you down.”

“Yep. That’s the spirit- AAGH-”

-

Mae nervously fidgets with a stuffed animal given to her by her grandma who is chirping with excitement despite Uncle Yoongi’s desperate voice as he speeds toward the hospital. Mae can’t help the anxious way she feels because she knows something big is about to happen. Aunt Monnie is going to have a baby. Mae is going to be a big cousin and despite her curious stares at the adults talking frantically in front of her as Uncle Yoongi drives- she is also excited. Inwardly, she wishes her mother could be with her, but she understands that you had to take your sister to the hospital.

Mae is unaware of how close they are to pulling into the parking lot of the facility, but once arrived, Grandma rushes to help her out of her seatbelt and Mae grips her hand as they follow a sprinting Yoongi into the hospital doors. “Is Mommy here yet?” Mae whispers, staring up at her grandma who catches her breath once reaching Yoongi.

She smiles reassuringly, “I’m sure she is here somewhere with your aunt and the baby. Don’t worry, Sweetheart.”

Mae can’t help it though. Sometimes her comfort is with you regardless. Either way, she doesn’t lose hold of her grandmother’s hand as the pair rush onto an elevator with Yoongi. His hands are jittery as he fumbles from putting them in his pockets versus running a hand through his hair. He is so ready to be with his wife and soon to be son he can hardly concentrate.

Mae smiles to herself in excitement, until she notices a young couple exiting the elevator she was about to enter. In the father’s arms is a car seat where the sweetest little bundle of joy is currently sleeping. The father has a glow in his eyes as he gazes constantly at the baby and over at his wife. He gazes at her in appreciation of the life she has given. Mae captures this encounter for a brief few seconds before losing sight of them behind the closed doors. The prior excitement subsides. What remains is an overwhelming sadness. Would her dad have been this excited about her being born? Would he have looked at her in the same way that father just did? 

A big piece of her heart was missing. 

The ding of the elevator distracts Mae momentarily and the three exit the doors and into the hallway. 

For a brief moment, Mae’s eyebrows furrow when she recognizes the man who had visited Mr. Park earlier today. What was he doing at the hospital? Is he okay? The man’s hair seems ruffled, and his mouth is ajar as he looks around as if trying to find something… Or someone. Could he be looking for lost treasure? Mae wonders- her favorite fairy tales that she has seen countless times help create a story in her mind as she watches him eventually settle on a bench that happens to be right in front of the door Uncle Yoongi rushes into.

“Who is that man?” Mae murmurs to her grandma who follows her gaze.

“Hm,” Grandma harrumphs, tilting her head as if some recognition forms on her face. “He seems healthy. Let’s go see how your Aunt Monnie is doing.”

When Mae sees Aunt Monnie, she looks around for a baby but learns that he has not arrived just yet. Damp hair covers the sides of Monnie’s forehead as she tries to suppress the pain as much as she can. Uncle Yoongi is comforting her to the best of his ability, and he squeezes Monnie’s hand while she breathes slow and steady breaths in between.  Mae also notices the nurses rushing to get everything prepared, but… where are you?

“Where’s mommy? And, where’s my cousin?”

“I’m sure she will be here soon. Maybe she went to the bathroom? And oh, silly girl, babies take time entering the world. He will be here soon enough I promise.”

Mae meets Aunt Monnie’s eyes in widened astonishment as kids do when they seem to understand the seriousness of whatever situation they are about to witness. “Hey there, Mae,” Aunt Monnie’s voice is thickened with discomfort, but she tries to force a smile through the sheer pain of labor. “Your mom will be on her way soon. I made her go… pick up some tangerines.” She tries to raise her voice loud enough as if to capture someone’s attention.

“Tangerines?”

Mae notices the utterly confused look on Yoongi’s face as well as the ajar mouth of questioning that drops open from her grandmother, but it seems Aunt Monnie shares a look of ‘will explain later’ although Mae is too young to understand exactly what that could mean in adult language. 

And apparently, Mae is way too young to be watching a woman give birth, so eventually her and her grandmother return to the hallway where Mae notices the man she noticed earlier is still here.

More questions spin in her mind as she watches him, but she also tries to keep herself preoccupied by clutching the stuffed animal closer to her side. Grandma moves her hand to her shoulder.

“Your mother should be here soon. And then once she is, we will get to meet your cousin. Are you excited?”

“Very excited. I didn’t even know babies could have tangerines.” Mae smiles wide despite being nervous, and she hugs her grandma, anticipatingly waiting not only for her cousin to make his appearance, but to also finally get to be by your side during this celebration with a bag full of one of her favorite fruits.

-

It’s the determination. Bursting through the doors of the hospital with fresh, warm tear stains and hardly a moment to figure out how to audibly ask which room your sister was taken to before you left. Memories of the ceiling and you being rushed to a room spark as well as the intense burn of contractions while you gripped whatever you could with clenched teeth. The desperate way you felt to bring this little life into the world was all you could think about as well as the excitement of finally getting to hold her in your arms. Now, it’s your sister’s turn to experience the endless joy of becoming a mother.

Aside from the determination, it’s the devastation swarming your chest in powerful waves for the betrayal you have revealed, and the forgiveness you hope your daughter will give you over time once the truth is finally brought to light. The truth Mae has been wishing for since the day she understood she had a father out there somewhere. Little did Mae know, her father would unintentionally find her, and now it is your mission and priority to bring them together no matter what it takes.

Jimin asked for time, and time will be what you give him. For Mae, her time to know is now because not only did you rob Jimin from his daughter, but you also robbed your daughter from having a father. Even if neither of them ultimately forgives you, how can you blame them? You are going to have to battle forgiving yourself just as much.

Mae’s face is all you can see as you jog to the nearest elevator and the agonizing slow pace of reaching the level your sister’s room is nearly smothers you in panic. Wanting to see your daughter is all you care about aside from meeting your nephew and seeing the man you have fallen in love with who has no idea of where you just were. It's all too much, but if you can just get to your daughter, you will be okay again.

“Mommy!” Her voice shouts in exhilaration when she sees your running frame enter the hallway. Smiling with more tears blurring your vision, her outspread arms rush toward you until you are holding her so close, your heart swells at her giggles muffling into your shoulder. “There you are!” 

Mae’s stuffed animal squishes against you too but you don’t even dare to let your daughter go.

“I love you so much,” you cry, pulling away to peck all over her chubby cheeks as she laughs a tad louder.

“Mommy!” She pulls away slightly, kissing you sweetly on your cheek. “I just saw you this morning!”

“I know, but it feels like ten long, horrendous years.” You swipe at a tear on your cheek as you squeeze her one more time. To your surprise, Mae looks around you and your hands as if she is confused. “Is something wrong, baby?”

“Where’s? Where’s the tangerines?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you open and shut your mouth multiple times before hearing the light chuckle of your mom who steps closer not wanting to initially interrupt you reuniting with your daughter before getting an update on your sister.

“Monnie said she sent you to pick up tangerines.” Your mother winks once you realize with a mouthed ‘Oh’ that your sister was covering for you. Which then brings the sharp stab of guilt at the thought of Jimin and the pain you caused him. And the even deeper stab being that your daughter has no idea that you just met with her father who has been her teacher this entire time.

Before you can even figure out how to put your stammering words together to come up with even the slightest excuse, a bag of tangerines dangle in your vision where your gaze slides from the bag to the handsome broad shoulders and face of Kim Seokjin. 

“Did somebody say tangerines? I saw you accidentally drop them earlier when I was coming from the cafeteria. Figured I’d return them to their rightful owner.”

The warmth that replaces the sadness from a second ago is enough to make you want to jump into his arms as his lips quirk into a sweet smile. You know good and damn well that this man went out of his way to pick up these tangerines from God knows where, but how did he even know to get them in the first place? He must have overheard Monnie’s explanation to Mae? Knowing Mae and how much she loves to ask questions sometimes, maybe she asked them, and he happened to be in the vicinity? Whatever the case, you are beyond thankful for him stepping in. ‘Thank you,’ you mouth toward him while Mae jumps in enthusiasm.

“You’re the man who visited Mr. Park earlier!” Mae exclaims, which makes you cock an eyebrow in surprise. Jin was with Jimin earlier? But then, the next thought makes you cringe because Mae just referred to her father as Mr. Park- not that she knows of course, but it brings back the guilt all the same. Your plan to tell Mae needs to be soon, but at what moment will be the right time?

Seokjin laughs as if he is embarrassed because now you are aware that he visited Jimin earlier and knows you are going to want an explanation even though he doesn’t necessarily owe you one. It’s not like he knew that Jimin didn’t know he had a daughter unless it was that obvious. Honestly, all these anxious cycles of questions are making your head feel heavy, and no matter what, you hope for a positive outcome for everyone.

“Why yes, I was.” Seokjin says, looking at Mae, “He is a great fella. Me, him, and your mom go way back.” Oh shit.

Seokjin, realizing he may have said too much, locks eyes with you as your heart nearly plummets to the ground in fear. Your mother is oblivious to the whole scene as she keeps her eyes toward the door of Monnie’s room where the doctor has hopefully begun checking Monnie’s dilation. As much as you want your focus to be solely on your sister and the baby, it seems like everything unfolding is keeping you from doing so.

“You know Mr. Park, too, Mommy?” Mae asks innocently. 

One thing Mae does know is that you have not met her teacher yet because her aunt and uncle are the ones who took her to the open house and have helped take her to school while you started your new job. Clutching the side of your purse that nestles the picture of you and Jimin, you try to swallow the dry lump in your throat. Seokjin seems as though he wants to kick himself, but none of this is anywhere near his fault. You are the reason this is happening the way it is happening. You are the one who chose to flee from the man who gave you this precious, little girl whom you love more than anything in this entire world. Now, there is a choice that is being presented to you. Struggling with what to do, the stifled shout of a deep voice turns everyone's head toward the door housing Monnie, Yoongi and a medical team which causes all of you to rush with pressed ears to hear what could be happening.

“PUSH!” And with sheer elation, everyone holds their breaths as they know now is the time for Monnie’s baby boy to enter the world. Your hand finds Mae’s as the large, warm hand of Seokjin squeezes your shoulder- his other hand still clutching the bag of tangerines. You’ll kiss him really good later for that one, but for now, your brain is fully devoted to your baby nephew and your trooper of a sister. Sharing delightful giggles with your mother, it’s amazing how a baby can bring a family together in the most serene way.

By the time everything starts falling into place, you and Mae share a happy look as you follow your mother into the hospital room where your sister with teary eyes holds a blue blanket wrapped around the tiny body of her and Yoongi’s baby boy. Mae skips to the bed rails where her small hands hold tightly- her sweet eyes glued to the baby as she gasps in awe. 

“He’s so… perfect,” she whispers while Monnie and Yoongi share emotional smiles.

“Just like you,” Monnie holds Mae’s gaze as she reaches a free hand to brush the back of Mae’s knuckles. “Absolutely just like you.”

You’re frozen in place at the beautiful scene- Seokjin’s hand on your back keeps you steady but there is no stopping the silent tears as they drip down your cheeks. He is beautiful. The sweet bundle of joy and happiness making two people you love parents and the absolute unconditional love already pouring from Yoongi and Monnie. This moment will be burned in your memory forever. A moment you wish you could have shared with Jimin.

“What’s his name?” Mae asks quietly, still in her childlike trance.

“Sammy,” Monnie replies, tilting her head to look into her husband’s eyes. “His name is Sammy.”

As the night continues, everyone gets a chance to hold Sammy while pictures are taken from left to right. You even include a swift introduction of Seokjin, whom Monnie briefly met before Yoongi arrived as you learned since Seokjin booked it to the hospital after you called. When it comes to Mae’s turn to hold Sammy, you have to restrain from crying even more at how you fall in love with the thrill in her countenance as her small legs kick after taking a seat, reaching her arms out to welcome him. 

“He’s so heavy!” She exclaims as a chorus of laughter echoes within the room.

“Yeah!” Monnie says with teasing eyes, “Imagine how long I had to carry that bun.”

“And then push it out,” your mom elbows Monnie’s shoulder with a wink.

“Oh Lord,” you playfully roll your eyes, “Let’s not teach my child health class too early. I’m not ready for her to grow up.” You mutter to yourself spinning to take more pictures of your daughter holding your newborn nephew. Seokjin offers after an hour and a half of the family visiting Sammy, to take your mother home since you want to spend more time with your daughter and your sister. Your mother’s droopy eyes want to decline, but Monnie insists that she get some rest with her old age.

“I’m not as old as you think. Just you wait. You’re gonna wish you had the spunk I have.”

“The spunk left the trunk in 1976.” Monnie teases prompting a glare from your mother, but you also know Monnie was always closer to your father even after your parents divorced.

“I’ll have you know that your father loved my spunk, why else do you exist?”

Chorus of laughter turns into groaning; you leave Mae with your sister and brother-in-law briefly as you follow Seokjin and your mother out in the hallway. Whether it’s impeccable timing, your mother gets a phone call and starts exhaustingly yapping to whoever it is, giving you a few minutes to talk to Seokjin. 

“Thank you again,” you say as he pauses in front of you, staring into your soul with the kindest eyes you have ever seen, yet there is a look of distance that you catch.

“Anytime,” he says. If your mother wasn’t standing right there, you would have kissed him so hard on the mouth, but instead, you reach up just to give him a quick peck on his cheek. “Now you keep my mother safe. She’s a bit crazy.”

“I remember,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug. Taking him in, you are so thankful for the man he has always been and the rock you have always needed. How did you make it seven years without him? How was that even possible? He moves his mouth closer to your ear causing pleasurable shivers along your skin. 

“He was always my friend.” Your auditory senses perk at his words as your heart skips a beat. “And I realized that I didn’t know he had a daughter because he didn’t know he had a daughter.” Squeezing you tightly one more time, you feel the lump in your throat again. “I know you will do the right thing.” And with that, Seokjin pulls away, holding your eyes before lightly pinching your chin with his fingers. He wasn’t saying goodbye, but you can tell from the sadness etched in his gaze that he wants you to make things right before being with him. 

“Jin… I-”

“You’ll do the right thing. It may not feel like it now, but you will make things right because that’s the kind of person you are.” Leaning forward, he presses a slow, warm kiss to your lips causing fireworks to spark deep within your chest. Breathless, even from the simplicity of the kiss, he pulls away slightly to meet your eyes, “I love you,” he whispers, “And I always will.”

Words are taken from you as you stiffly watch him reach a hand for your mother’s shoulder to lead her toward the elevators, him holding your gape before stepping on officially. Your mother is still smiling into the phone, not aware of what happened between you and Seokjin, and your heart is pounding profusely through your temples. Seokjin loves you. He just said he loves you. You didn’t have a second to say it back because you are too stunned to even exhale.

You are uncertain of how long you stand there in the hallway rigid with surprise. Breathing deeply until your shaky hands have settled, you know what you need to do. Turning slowly, you walk into the dimly lit hospital room where you see Yoongi laying next to Monnie, staring down at their son who is now their pride and joy. The exact look you gave Mae after she was born and the same look that will never die. Flitting your vision, you find Mae sitting on one of the cushions laid out for anyone who decides to stay the night with their loved one and sitting there, staring back at you, is your purse that holds the answer Mae has been waiting for as well as an opened bag of tangerines. Stepping softly, you take a seat next to your daughter wrapping a gentle arm around her.

“I think your cousin loves you so much already.” You coo, kissing the side of her forehead. Mae continues to watch her cousin, her smile remaining planted on her bright expression. “You are going to be the best cousin ever, and I know you will let him know it.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” She sighs dreamily. “Today has been a good day.”

“I’m so glad.” You murmur, watching the interaction between your sister and her little family. Of course, you know what you need to do, but would it continue to make Mae’s day better? Or will this good day Mae says it will come crashing and burning if you reveal the truth? There is an urge or a strong pounding of your heart that this is it. This is the time to tell Mae about her father, but are there words to even begin?

You let the minutes pass by slowly, giving some time to settle until you gather your words. Your fingers have already run through your daughter’s long hair before you speak softly. 

“Mae, I just want you to know that you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” Mae looks up at you with softened eyes. “And you always will be no matter what… There is also someone who deserves to know you just as much as I do. And though it may take time, I know you will be the best thing to ever happen to him as well.” 

Mae’s eyes widen when realization dawns on her, yet she holds the question evident in her expression. “I’m really sorry…” You choke back a sob, “I’m really sorry that I never told you sooner, and I will live the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. And to your father if he lets me.”

Reaching for your purse, you find the pocket that holds the folded picture of you and Mae’s father and once it is securely gripped between your fingertips, you lift it into you and Mae’s line of vision. Her eyes immediately glue to the folded picture as she anxiously swallows. 

“I love you, Mae.” You whisper and you unfold the picture, exposing the truth you thought you could keep hidden, but instead, the heavy burden you’ve buried lifts from your heart and shoulders as the opened picture brings closure to the young girl staring back at it.

There is no anger in her eyes. No hatred for being left in the dark. Instead, she is overcome by all consuming joy. She has a father. This whole time she has been in the same room as him. A man so kind. The years as a younger girl that may have been shattered are now slowly healing. Being so little can mean that it is difficult to express her true emotions. Except it’s all right there in her eyes. 

Mae has a father, and she couldn’t be more at peace. 

  Two months later…

“Okay, just remember that she absolutely loves ice cream, but don’t let her eat too much!” You stress as you hold your hands out, “It sometimes upsets her stomach, so just let her have maximum two scoops and that’s it-”

“Y/N,” Jimin chuckles as he gives you a pointed look, resting his hands on his hips. “How many times have I told you that I know this? You’ve told me-”

“Countless times, I know,” you groan, running your palms over your face. “I’m sorry, I’m still not used to no longer being a single parent. Sharing is hard.”

“And I understand that completely, but you also must remember that she is my daughter, too.” A side grin tugs at his thick lips as the screen door remains stopped by his elbow.

“Dad, c’mon! We’re gonna be late!” Mae drones from the passenger side of his car, her excitement exuberant and her nonstop conversation of another adventure with her dad is all she has been talking about since Jimin made the decision to officially be in his daughter’s life. It didn’t take much time- only a week and Mae willingly switched classrooms and slowly became introduced into Jimin’s life. His tears were endless the day he wrapped his arms around her for the first time, nearly falling to his knees while she buried her face into his shoulder. Mae finally found her father. And, two months later, it has been continuous adventures: Jimin and his little sidekick, Mae.

“I’m coming, Kiddo!” He laughs, returning to face you while he shakes his head teasingly. “The punctuality she gets from me.”

You scoff, “Excuse you.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

Your eyes soften at the man before you. Uncrossing your arms, you reach to hug him. Tightly. Every ounce of thankfulness, happiness, sorrow, guilt, any emotion that exists is held within this hug as you feel his arms completing the embrace. He feels the emotions, too. He is taking this all in, too.

“You are also an amazing father,” you whisper as tears brim. “Thank you so much for choosing her.”

He squeezes you close one more time before pulling away. “I will always choose her.”

There will never be a relationship again, but the parental bond you two will share is everything you could have asked for. Wiping at a tear that escaped, Jimin nods his farewell before sprinting to the driver’s side of his car. Laughing hysterically at Mae, who must have made a pouty joke, you watch in pride as your daughter smiling with glee, shoves her father’s shoulder as he backs out of the driveway to head to Mae’s favorite ice cream shop. You never imagined the day would come, but you have all the gratefulness in the world that it did. Your daughter is complete. The father of your daughter is complete. Your family is complete.

There’s just one more thing you have to do.

Rushing to grab your keys, you slip on a pair of shoes and sprint to your car after locking up the house. You know who you are about to visit is off today, and you happened to take some time off to be with your daughter before she stays with her dad for the weekend. It doesn’t take long until you see the familiar road that will bring you to the one who made you whole aside from your daughter, and the second you pull into his driveway, you run a hand through your hair letting a long, jittery sigh escape.

Clearing your throat, you rush out of your car and saunter to his front door, keeping a hand on your stomach from the slight nausea wanting to rear its head. There has been some communication on and off throughout the past couple months, but there is something you have been wanting to tell him ever since the two of you reconnected.

Ringing the doorbell, you run quivering palms over your clothes, and when the click of the door opens, your heart halts at meeting his surprised eyes. 

“Jin!” You say faster with a gust of excitement than you anticipate, so you clear your throat again before continuing. “I’m sorry, I just… I needed to see you.”

Slowly stepping forward, Seokjin steadily places a warm hand to your cheek where his thumb strokes your skin so softly it's as if you are in a dream. Yet, your eyes never leave his gentle, brown irises as tears fill his eyes. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much and he has never stopped waiting on you and the woman he knew you would and have become.

“I love you, too.” You breathe, letting the words sink in before Seokjin’s lips crash to yours. Now that life seems to be exactly where it’s supposed to be- the way it should be, now even you feel complete. The emptiness fled once the truth was told, and now you can happily be in the arms of Kim Seokjin while your daughter gets to learn about the father she’s always wanted to know.

Wrapping your arms behind Seokjin’s shoulders, you let him whisk you away into happiness, because now you can finally allow yourself to feel it. 

[clood]

precanon paku!!! yeah!!!

Living in a shithole like Meteor City is hard, there’s really no way to sugarcoat it.

Pakunoda’s known this since the moment she could have her own coherent thoughts, and she’s had the notion solidified time and time again after she learned how to dive deep into the thoughts of others.

Thankfully, that’s a skill she can use to her advantage.

Hilda’s Fortunetelling and Messages from Beyond: Answer Three Simple Questions and the Future is Yours to Behold.

Paku always rolls her eyes when she passes the sign, entering the only place that would employ a young woman with her… assets and not exploit them in the usual way. No, Hilda saw her potential at once, and while Paku thought it was creepy at first, she gets it now. She sees the streams of aura that pour from people’s skin without their even knowing it, knows how to use her own to swindle them out of a few jenny—thanks to Hilda.

So long as she phrases the words in a way that could be considered a question, Paku can see into the deepest recesses of anyone’s minds. What Hilda can do with her years of understanding human body-language and the long-learned habits of her regular customers, Pakunoda can coax out of even the most skeptical first timer.

“You have someone you’ve lost,” she will say, an innocent enough statement that everyone has some sort of answer to. Without their even meaning to, her customers will let her into their minds, their hearts. Wants and desires that these people have kept hidden from every last breathing soul will reveal themselves to Paku, and she will parrot them back to the person seated across her rickety card table with its stained purple cloth, her hand held tightly in theirs.

If her customers want forgiveness, she will pardon them. If they seek something they’ve lost, Paku will do her best to steer them in the right direction. In such a hopeless place as Meteor City, Pakunoda is thankful that she can at least provide some respite to the seemingly endless suffering that her customers endure.

That’s why she doesn’t quite understand why Hilda has introduced her to this strange young man, with eyes that look through instead of at, and a strange tattoo on his forehead. She knows at once, without even needing to ask him anything, that he means to take her away. That Hilda will let her go.

“I’ve come to have my fortune told,” the stranger states simply, sitting across from her with seemingly no expectations. If he already knows what she is, what she does, then why is he here?

“You want something, more than anything else in the world,” Paku says, taking his hands awkwardly. At once her mind is filled with images of conquest and untold riches, of incredible violence and something close to camaraderie. A family found, made, chosen specifically for the task.

“I think you know what it is,” the young man says carefully, leaning across the table and speaking in a low tone. “Join me, I’m starting a revolution.”

If Pakunoda could really see the future, she would see her own death.

She would see an ultimate sacrifice borne out of an intense need to protect those she loved. But, too, she would see unbreakable bonds and some of the happiest moments in her life. None of which she could see here, not even with Hilda.

So, she nods. And when Chrollo stands to leave, so does Pakunoda.  

[thebigbadbatswife]

Pushin’ Me Away

Summary - Y/N and Bruce Wayne have been dating for a year now, but recently he’s started pushing her away. Convinced he’s cheating on her, she goes to Wayne Manor to confront him, but ends up discovering more than she bargained for.

Warning(s) - Please only read if you are 18+, angst, smut, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, batsuit kink, fluffy ending

Word Count - 2.7k

You and Bruce had been going out for the past year and it had been great. He was sweet and kind and caring. Nothing like the tabloids that had led you to believe. Constantly surprising you with flowers and gifts, taking you out on dates and the sex. Oh god the sex. It was absolutely phenomenal. Until recently that was.

In the past couple of months he only seemed interested in shoving you away. He was always busy. Late nights at the office, he claimed, but the last couple of times you hadn’t been able to reach his cell and called the office, you found out that he wasn’t actually there. Every question was deflected, he was no longer taking you out or surprising you and the sex had completely stopped. Every time you had tried to initiate it, he pulled away, said he was tired and that he needed to be up early.

At first all of it had confused you. Had you done something to cause him to push you away? And if so, why wouldn’t he just talk to you about it? After a lot of thinking, you eventually came to a conclusion. It wasn’t you that had done anything wrong, it was Bruce. He had to be cheating on you. It was the only thing that made sense. Not that you were surprised. You were so mundane compared to the other women he dated, it was only a matter of time before he got bored. It turned out he was exactly like the tabloids had described him. And it broke your heart.

You felt so stupid. You had actually fallen for him and thought you two could have a future. Everyone around you that had warned you about him had been right. He didn’t give two fucks about you and probably never did.

You had spent the entire night crying after your realisation. Curled up on the sofa under a blanket, eating a tub of ice cream and watching bad comedy films. As the credit started to roll on the third movie and you hit the bottom of your second tub you decided that you weren’t going to sit around and feel sorry for yourself. You were going to confront the bastard before walking out of his life for good.

Sure it was nearly three in the morning, but you didn’t care anymore. He thought he could cheat on you and get away with it? He had another thing coming! You set the empty tub aside and got up from the sofa. You headed toward your bedroom, got dressed and left your apartment.

As you pulled up to the Manor, you saw a couple of lights on through the windows. At least you knew he was home. You got out of your car and walked up the front steps. You were about to hit the doorbell when you noticed the door slightly ajar. You gently pushed it open and entered the Manor. You walked around the place to find it completely empty. No sign of Bruce or his butler, Alfred. Maybe this had been a mistake.

You were about to leave when you noticed the time on the broken grandfather clock in the hall had changed. Curious you walked over to it. Every time you had come to the Manor, the clock had always been stuck on the same time, midnight. Now it read 10:47pm. Upon further examination, you discovered a gap between the clock and the wall. You could feel a cold breeze coming from the gap. You went to move the clock when you got the feeling that you shouldn’t be there and that you should leave. If you had been anyone else, maybe you would have. Instead you shook the feeling away and continued to move the clock.

The clock moved surprisingly easily and you were now standing in front of a dark staircase that led down. The feeling from a few minutes ago came back even stronger, but you continued to ignore it as you took a deep breath and started your way down.

A million different thoughts ran through your head as you carefully followed the staircase down into the Earth. Was Bruce a serial killer? The documentaries you had watched on killers came to mind and it was almost always the good looking, charismatic ones. Or maybe this was one of those creepy sex dungeons that rich people supposedly kept. You’d find out soon enough

It wasn’t long before you started to hear voices. It was Alfred and Bruce and they were discussing… You?

  “Master Bruce, I really think you should tell her. If you keep this up I fear you might lose her.” Alfred said as he set the tray he was carrying onto the desk. On the tray was a cup of piping hot tea and a plate of cookies.

“If it keeps her safe, is that really such a bad thing?” he asked as he took one of the cookies.

“I just think you’ll regret it sir.”

“What makes you say that Alfred?” Alfred took a deep breath.

“I’ve just never seen anyone make you happy quite like she does.”

Not that he would say it out loud, but Bruce knew Alfred was right about that. It was no secret that he had been with his fair share of women, but none of them had made him feel the way he did with you. With you he didn’t need fake smiles and to pretend he was someone else. Nor did he need his flashy cars and expensive jewels. He could just be himself around you… or as much as possible without actually revealing the mask he wore most nights.

When your relationship had started to get serious, he thought of telling you. He got the feeling that he could tell you anything and you would accept him. At the same time though, he thought of the enemies he had made and if any one of them found out about you, the untold danger it would put you in. So he didn’t. He kept silent and hoped that you wouldn’t leave. But in recent months crime rates in Gotham had skyrocketed and his promise to the city, to his parents, had meant he had neglected your relationship quite a bit.

He wanted to take you out on dates and shower you in attention, but with his long nights, no sleep and long days at Wayne ENT, he didn’t have the energy. And he wanted to have sex with you. Why wouldn’t he? You were gorgeous and it was mind blowing, but he couldn’t risk you seeing the bruises across his body. If you saw them then he would have to come clean about his nightly activities and he couldn’t put you in danger like that. He wouldn’t put you in danger like that.

At the same time, he also knew there was only so much you could take. If things kept going the way they were, you were going to leave. He knew Alfred was right about that. Bruce was about to reply to him when he noticed his butler staring at something. He followed his gaze and felt himself froze when he saw what, or rather who, had caught Alfred’s attention. It was you. You had found the cave.

Before he had a chance to say anything, you had already taken off back up the stairs. One look at his butler told him everything he needed to know. Alfred had left the cave’s entrance open, on purpose. Bruce took off after you, but thanks to the injuries he had sustained that night he was slower than he would have been. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear your car already leaving the Manor’s grounds.

He stormed back down into the cave, grabbed his cowl off the desk and headed for the batmobile. He had no idea what he was going to say to you, only that he needed to catch up to you.

Okay so Bruce wasn’t cheating on you. That was a relief. At the same time though, what he was actually doing was somehow so much worse. Being cheated on, you at least knew how to deal with that. Him being Batman? You had no idea what to do with that information. It was times like this you really wished Bruce came with a manual.

You opened the door to your apartment and as you locked it, out of the corner of your eye, you saw something move. Of course he had followed you, why wouldn’t he? But you didn’t want to see him, not right now. You needed to digest what you had seen, to decide what you wanted now that you knew his secret. You went to unlock the door and leave when a gloved hand on your arm stopped you.

You immediately escaped his grasp and backed away from him. He was still in his batsuit and he held his cowl in his other hand. He went to walk toward you, but when you backed away further he stopped. Neither of you knew what to say so you stood there in silence, just staring at each other. Eventually the words came to you.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I wanted to, but how could I put you in danger like that?” You scoffed.

“Danger? Did you ever stop to think that dating Gotham’s wealthiest man has already put me in danger?!” It was the truth. Ever since your relationship had become public, the amount of death threats from jealous women, and men, had been ridiculous. And with the amount of psychos out in the world anyone of them could act on their threats. The silence that came from Bruce told you that he knew you were right.

You two stood there in silence again. As much as you wanted to stay angry at him, you couldn’t. You actually loved the thought that he had been trying to protect you. It was more than anyone else had ever done for you in your life. Sighing, you started to walk over to him. You stopped once you were right before him.

Bruce watched you warily as your fingers gently traced the symbol on his chest. Your fingers slowly moved away from the symbol and to his face. They ghosted over his black eye and moved down to his split lip. He looked like an absolute mess, but he was your mess.

You stepped back from him. There was something you wanted to see.

“I want to see you with your cowl on.” He looked at you for a moment before putting it on. Despite knowing he would never hurt you, you couldn’t help, but feel a little bit of the fear that the criminals he faced must feel. The fear factor aside, you couldn’t deny that he looked rather sexy in that suit. Especially with how it clung to all the right places on him.

You stepped forward. With your hands on his chest, you leaned up and kissed him. He kissed you back fervently, his hands coming up to rest on your waist. After a minute, you broke the kiss and pulled away from his embrace, before headed for your bedroom. When you realised he wasn’t following, you stopped at the doorway and looked back over at him.

“Aren’t you coming, Batman?” you asked in your sultriest voice. After months of him lying to you, you figured he owed you this much.

By the time Bruce… Batman had reached your bedroom, you were already in the process of removing your clothes. Your shoes, coat and top were already on the floor and you were about to start on your jeans when you felt his strong muscular arms wrap around you. He started by kissing your jawline, slowly moving down to your neck. As he kissed you, his hands roamed your body. While one of his hands moved up to your breasts, the other one found its way in between your legs. You gasped and your hips bucked involuntary as he rubbed you through your jeans.

He chuckled darkly before moving his hand away. You whined at the loss, but you didn’t have to complain for long as he spun you around and pushed you onto the bed. You sat up on your elbows as you watched in him stalk over to you, not unlike a predator would do to its prey. He removed your bra and made quick work of your jeans and panties.

After discarding his gauntlets, Batman leaned over you and pinned your hands above your head. He groaned against your neck as his free hand slipped between your legs and he discovered how wet you already were.

“Already so wet for me? How long have you wanted this baby?” Before you had a chance to respond, he was pushing his fingers into you causing you to cry out. As he relentlessly pumped his fingers in and out of you, he left hickeys all over your body.

As you came down from your third orgasm, he let go of your hands and pulled away. Your body felt far too weak for you to sit up and see what he was up to now. Not that you needed to as you could clearly hear the sounds of him removing his suit.

He leant back over you and you discovered he had removed everything, but his mask. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck so you could pull him down for a kiss. As you two kissed, he slowly pushed into you and you gasped against his lips. Once he was fully inside, he stilled and began to gently kiss your neck as you adjusted to his size. After all it had been awhile.

“You’re so tight baby.” he groaned against your neck. Once you had adjusted, you wrapped your legs around his hips and moved your own hips, to let him know you were ready.

Batman slowly pulled out of you before slamming straight back into you. Your nails dug into his back and you moaned loudly as he set a hard and fast pace. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your neighbours were going to kill you for being so loud, but you couldn’t care less. It had been so long since he had last fucked you, you’d be damned if you didn’t relish in it.

He moved one of his hands from its position by the side you of your head and brought it between your legs and started to play with your clitoris.

“Batman!” you cried as he pushed you over the edge. Feeling you tighten around him was more than enough to trigger his own orgasm so you came together.

He gently pulled out of you as you came down from your high. You felt him leave the bed, but before you could mourn his lost he was back with a damp cloth to clean you up with. Once he was done cleaning you up, he discarded the cloth and pulled you up to the pillows, where he pulled the duvet over the both of you and brought you in close to his body. You reached up and he lowered his head so you could remove his cowl.

Now that you were no longer distracted you could see the bruises that covered his torso. Clearly seeing the concern in your eyes, Bruce caressed your face and gently tilted your face upward toward him. “I’m fine.” he said before he leant in and kissed your cheek.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’ve got you in my arms haven’t I?” You smiled and gave him another kiss. “I love you so much Y/N.”

You pulled away from him as you both realised what he had just said.

“I’m sorry, you what?” you asked.

“I love you, Y/N. I have done for a while now.” A big smile spread across your face as his words sunk in. He loved you. Bruce Wayne loved you!

“I love you too, Bruce.” Because of course you did. Why wouldn’t you? Despite the earlier lying and pushing you away, he was amazing in every way. After a couple more kisses, you both fell asleep wrapped up in each others’ arms.

[sooibian]

So Let's Runaway - Costa Brava

Prologue >> Costa Brava >> Seville >> Cuéllar

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Fem!Reader ft. bff!Chanyeol

Genre/Themes: Fluff, angst, humour, travel AU, road trip through Spain, travel buddies Chansoo

Warnings: Grief, loss, heartache, toxic relationships, mildly explicit language

Description: A bachelors trip turns into a soul-searching journey when an unlikely group of three travels through the scenic landscapes of Spain. Their experiences present them with opportunities to mend bridges, face their fears and fall back in love with the true essence of life.

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

A/N: this story is a part of @supermwritersnet​ ‘Around the world in 31 days’ event. event masterlist. 

Tag list: @sooadorable @rosetvler @changshapatrol @his-mochi-cheeks @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @j-pping @kysoobydoobydoo @exoxobsession @camillapad @reekyungsoo​ let me know if you’d like to be (un)tagged.

@smolgirlbigthoughts​ thank you so much for the description!!! ;~~~~~;

After having stayed the night (or whatever was left of it after a red-eye flight) in an Airbnb in Barcelona, the three of you hired a Lyft to Europcar to pick up the SUV that Chanyeol had pre-booked for the Costa Brava - Seville - Cuéllar itinerary. What you’d gathered from your several conversations with Chanyeol after that serendipitous coffee date was that each of the three friends had handpicked an adventure sport to try out in these places.

Chanyeol had chosen scuba diving in the rugged coast of Costa Brava with its spectacular cliffs and countless coves. Kyungsoo had appositely picked out an adventure sport involving throwing oneself out of an airplane thousands of feet above ground a.k.a. skydiving in Seville, the capital of Andalusia, resting, wise and old, upon the Guadalquivir river. And Yixing, bless his heart, had wanted to take part in a bull run in Cuéllar that takes place on the last Sunday of August each year.

Twirling the car key on his finger, Chanyeol, dressed in baggy black shorts, a loose fitting purple tee, super dark oversized shades and a snapback cap worn backwards, strongly resembled that ‘smiling face with the sunglasses’ emoji as he walked out of the booking office with Kyungsoo following closely behind. All set to catch a few winks in the rear seat comfort of the SUV, you pulled down the brim of your sunhat but suddenly, a blur of turquoise swooped past you, capturing your attention. Your drowsy eyes wrestled the summer sun to land upon a gorgeous turquoise Buick convertible swerving around the parking area before coming to a fashionable halt. A portly, bespectacled man stepped out of the vehicle and deposited its key with the booking office.

This was it.

This was the car ideal for a road trip, not some mafia boss’ kidnapping vehicle.

The essence of time dawned upon you so you trotted to where the Buick was parked and went down on your knees, hands folded in an implicit plea. The two men, startled at first, were quick to realize what was up.

Kyungsoo fixed you with a judgemental gaze that wasn’t any different from a mother’s fed-up of her child’s tantrums while Chanyeol broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Shoulders hunched under the weight of his tan leather backpack, Kyungsoo crammed his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and sighed, “The SUV’s more practical.”

With a twinkle in your eye, you exclaimed, “Screw practical! Just look at it! It’s a convertible and we’re on a road trip!”

Grinning from ear to ear, Chanyeol advanced towards you gingerly. “Shifu, my love-”

Jutting out your lower lip, you crossed your arms over your chest and whined, “Don’t call me that after you’ve ditched me for Miss Perfect Hair!” causing Kyungsoo to roll his eyes which distracted you from Chanyeol’s stealth attack.

All of a sudden, the beanpole leapt at you, maneuvered you like he would a balloon sculpture, tucked his arms under your knees, picked you up and shoved you in the backseat of the dreary black vehicle with sun shades on windows darker than Kyungsoo’s soul. With Chanyeol’s finger pressing down on the ridge between your eyebrows, you laid down on your back, sulking, “Some road trip this is. Can I atleast drive?”

Before slamming the car door shut, he teased, “Take a nap.”

And...you tried.

Forty five minutes into the drive, you tried so hard to make up for the red-eye flight but Kyungsoo’s phone Just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Ringing. To make matters worse, he sounded like a broken record parroting the words ‘margin call’, ‘shorting’, ‘S’, ‘B’, ‘stop loss’ over and over again. The same damn thing, every single time.

“Enough Kyungsoo! We’re on a vacation, dude,” Chanyeol chided, the almost indiscernible crack in his voice indicative of his annoyance.

Leaning back into his seat, Kyungsoo bragged, “The last thirty seconds earned me enough commission to be able to buy at least five bags of the kind I bought Aera yesterday.”

“Now, why would you buy Aera a bag?” Chanyeol asked, a hint of suspicion evident in his tone. The sounds of their voices had been mercilessly thwarting your attempts at a peaceful slumber but, this was different. The lack of response from Kyungsoo seemed to have piqued your interest. Your eyes fluttered open to a one eighty shift in Chanyeol’s mood. Brows knit together, his fingers impatiently drummed on the steering wheel as you both waited for Kyungsoo’s answer with a bated breath. But in his stead, it was his stupid phone that broke the silence.

Wide eyes fixated on the screen, Kyungsoo suddenly cried out, “Stop the car!”.

“What?!”

“Stop the car, Chanyeol!”

Letting out an exasperated groan, Chanyeol rashly veered the car to the right before hitting the brakes, causing you to nearly roll off your seat. Kyungsoo darted out of the vehicle and the next thing you knew, he stood facing the hood of the vehicle, his laptop perched atop the bonnet and his life support cellphone clutched in one hand.

Bowing to the screen, he greeted, “Moshi Moshi!”

“Is he taking  a work call right now?” you mused.

Chanyeol snorted, “That’s Doh Kyungsoo for you.”

Chuckling softly, you squished your face against the back of Chanyeol’s seat and groused, “Well, along with loony, your friend seems to be fluent in Japanese.”

“Yah! Cut him some slack. He’s had a rough couple of weeks,” explained Chanyeol, wrestling with a bag of chips in his hands.

“Yeollie -”

It was on the tip of your tongue.

You wanted to tell Chanyeol about your encounter with Kyungsoo on the rooftop but there was no way you could explain your own presence in the first place. To make matters worse, you were the worst liar you knew. So, you decided it was a story that best remained untold for your own sake, your mother’s and inadvertently, Kyungsoo’s.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a chip?” you asked instead.

“All yours!”

“I’ll have just one, thanks.”

“You alright, Shifu?” Chanyeol slurred around a mouthful of chips, “Is there anything you need?”

“A nap would be nice,” you jested while nibbling at the edges of the deep fried snack.

“Aww, sleepyhead, we’ll be there in an hour.”

Humming in agreement, you reached for another chip and cooed, “Are you alright, Yeol? What’s with the whole ‘bag for Aera’ situation?”

Chanyeol’s head spun around to give you a warm, dimpled smile. “Don’t worry. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he had wolfed down an entire packet of chips in a matter of minutes along with a can of some neon and black fizzy drink. A distant memory of Chanyeol guzzling an entire bottle of water in three seconds for shits and giggles back in Uni stretched your lips in a wistful smile.

By then, Kyungsoo was done with his twenty minute long call against the quaint cerulean and stone backdrop of fishing villages by the coast. Who needs a virtual background when you’re surrounded by coves of deep blue sea and beaches of golden sand? As he reached for the car door, you whispered in Chanyeol’s ear, “One more call and I’m chucking his phone out the window.”

Grinning mischievously as he fastened his seatbelt, Chanyeol sang, “Oh, Shifu, I’ve missed youuuu!”

The moment Kyungsoo stepped inside, a tangible gloom proliferated in the enclosed space. Chanyeol started the car and you quietly curled up in the backseat. Kyungsoo’s head spun around, round eyes blazing with conviction. Pointing towards the trunk, he said, “Do you see that cloth bag on top of Chanyeol’s trolley?”

“This one?” you asked, hoisting yourself up on one elbow, your arm carelessly flapping all over the luggage before landing on said cloth bag with a dull thump.

“Hand it over, please,” winced Kyungsoo, “Be gentle, it’s a gift.”

Passing him his precious ‘gift’, you let out an annoyed huff and laid down again, facing the backrest. But curiosity got the better of you. You immediately turned back around to see what this ‘gift’ looked like.

Kyungsoo loosened the strings of the canvas tote to reveal a black Birkin Cargo. Soft and lightweight, it was supposed to be Hermès first off-road bag. Your droopy eyes flew open in awe of its high-brow craftsmanship and it was certainly a thoughtful gift for a bride-to-be. If this gift was meant for you, you were sure to forgive any and all of his crimes but the bag didn’t seem to have the same kind of effect on Chanyeol.

The air was still thick with tension.

Gaze fixed on Chanyeol’s profile, Kyungsoo murmured, “I didn’t want to do this now.”

Eyes on the road, “Spill,” grunted Chanyeol, as if expecting the obvious.

“This is an ‘I’m sorry’ gift for Aera,” started Kyungsoo before lowering his voice to a whisper, “I picked it up from duty free last night...it’s fifteen times Yixing’s annual agricultural income.”

Chanyeol clicked his tongue in disapproval at Kyungsoo’s snide remark.

“What do you want to apologize to her for?” he then asked with a deep sigh.

“I- I can’t make it to the wedding,” said Kyungsoo, faltering in his otherwise steadfast speech.

“Why?” quizzed Chanyeol in a terrifyingly cool tone while anger started to rise within you. Why he allowed this midget to walk all over him was beyond you. Didn’t he have better friends?

“I pushed back an important appointment for this trip. It was either Spain or the wedding. And since you insisted on Spain...”

Furious, Chanyeol struck the steering wheel with his palm. With the rattle of the metal strap of his Rolex reverberating in the car, he bellowed, “The actual fuck, Doh Kyungsoo?!” 

“What?! I said I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t! Besides, ‘sorry’ doesn’t fix anything! You’re supposed to be my best man - are- are you listening to yourself right now?!”

Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Kyungsoo patiently waited for his friend to simmer down. After a pregnant pause, Chanyeol resumed reasoning with him, his tone evidently milder this time, “Okay, okay, talk to me. Does this appointment have to be on the exact same day as the ceremony?”

“No, it doesn’t and...it isn’t,” Kyungsoo explained before hurriedly requesting, “Can we do this later?”

Chanyeol took a sharp right turn along the tapering road and brought the car to a screeching halt. Brows furrowed, lips quirked in an angry smirk, he looked Kyungsoo straight in the eyes and you felt as if the air conditioner had suddenly started meting out the chilliest of blows.

“No, I want to talk about it right now! So, tell me. What’s more important than your best friend’s wedding?”

Kyungsoo took off his glasses, threw his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Chanyeol, please -”

“No, I need to know!”

“Then remember it was you who wanted to have this conversation on the first day of our trip,” he stated curtly.

“Enough with the drama Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol’s roar rang through the car.

“FINE!” Kyungsoo grumbled, “I got a job offer from the London office and...I accepted. I leave a week after we’re back in Seoul….since it’s a new position I cannot fly back for the wedding. And I would’ve...I- I was going to fly back for the wedding had it not been for this trip.”

“So you decided to leave. Forever. Just like that. Without even talking to me about it first.” Chanyeol thought out loud, his tone tellingly casual.

Looking out the window, Kyungsoo whispered audibly, “There’s nothing left for me in Seoul.”

Without another word, Chanyeol started the car.

Putting his glasses back on, Kyungsoo threw his hands up and argued, “So you’re not going to say anything?!”

Chanyeol cranked up the volume on the car’s stereo in response, leaving Kyungsoo tongue-tied.

***

Ten minutes into the drive, Kyungsoo’s phone blew up for, conservatively, the fifteenth time. But before he could even swipe to answer, Chanyeol lowered the car window, plucked his phone out of his hand and chucked it into the shrubbery by the roadside and continued to drive at an accelerated speed.

Kyungsoo’s mouth fell open but no words came out and unbeknownst to you, you were mirroring the dazed look on his face.

Chanyeol stuck his thumb out to where you were seated and justified indifferently, “It was her idea.”

.

.

.

It wasn’t a house. It was a warzone.

The spacious three bedroom apartment had invisible borders drawn out and nobody dared to encroach upon the other’s territory.

After arriving in Costa Brava, the three of you settled in and freshened up before heading out for a scheduled theoretical lesson on scuba diving conducted by your PADI certified instructor. The lesson had ended sometime around sunset and through the entire thing, you acted like complete strangers, making it more awkward than necessary for the twenty something instructor.

After the lesson, Kyungsoo offered to drive the trio to a boutique hotel, Hostal Sa Rascassa’s restaurant, which was supposed to be located on the edges of a tranquil, secluded cove and served traditional sea-food centric dishes like -

“- grilled sardines, cod fishcakes and octopus stewed with onion and pepper,” Kyungsoo counted on his fingers, making your stomach growl and your mouth water.

Chanyeol brushed him aside with a bitter, “I’m not hungry.”

Turning to you, Kyungsoo asked politely, “Wanna come?”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Chanyeol shooting you a death glare so you decided to wriggle out of the situation by citing tiredness.

Kyungsoo lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug and took off in a taxi, leaving the car to the two of you.

“Where do you wanna eat?” Chanyeol asked as you got into the passenger’s seat.

Slack jawed, you chastised a giggling Chanyeol, “Yeollie, you’re absolutely horrible!”

.

.

.

It had been months.

Months since Natasha had walked out of their shared apartment.

And ever since then, every night, the moment Kyungsoo’s head would hit the pillow, a sense of hopelessness would erupt right in the middle of his chest. Spreading its wings far and wide, this despair would engulf him entirely and render him sleepless.

Nothing he tried helped his disposition so he’d started working on accepting this feeling as an inextricable part of his being. Something he’d have to learn to live with for the rest of his life.

Overcome by exhaustion, Kyungsoo drifted off only to be jolted awake by a jarring memory.

Hands balled into fists, Natasha yelled, ‘HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?’

‘This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Natasha! This deal could help us!’ Kyungsoo thundered in the face of her dogged determination to not let this slide.

‘Can’t you see that I don’t care?’ She met his bloodshot eyes with tears welling in hers.

Brows knit together, Kyungsoo ruminated on his thoughts before firing back, ‘Are you saying that you don’t care about my life?’

Exasperated, Natasha ran a hand through her hair to ground herself and argued, ‘Stop it, Kyungsoo! Don’t confuse your work with your life! Your work isn’t your life. It’s just a part of it. WHAT ABOUT US?’

‘Us?’ Kyungsoo deliberated, ‘I bought this apartment so that we could live together.’

Natasha retracted with every step Kyungsoo took towards her, expression coloured in unpleasant shades of anger and disgust.  Letting out a mirthless laugh, she taunted, ‘Oh, please! You bought this apartment to impress people with your upmarket address.’

Aghast, Kyungsoo sank into the couch, his mind flitting between despair and hope. Head in his hands, breathing jagged and raspy, he reasoned, ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this to me! I’m planning a future with you.’

‘The future is yet to come, Kyungsoo. WHAT ABOUT OUR PRESENT?’

‘STOP YELLING!’

‘THEN LISTEN TO ME!’

Hands on his knees, Kyungsoo’s gaze shot up to rest upon Natasha’s flushed face. ‘What do you want?’ He demanded in a terrifyingly low tone.

A silent tear slid down her cheek as she explained with a quiver in her voice, ‘I want your time, Kyungsoo. I want a relationship not a retirement plan.’

Helpless, Kyungsoo toyed with the words in his mind before blurting, ‘If the chairman of Nakamura Corporation wants to meet me then I have- to- go! If he likes the presentation, he’ll give us the entire account. Don’t you see how big this is for me?’

‘But what about us, Kyungsoo? What about our dinner plan?’

‘We can postpone it to next month, can’t we?!’

‘It’s my birthday, Soo. I can’t postpone my birthday. You’d promised me this dinner...no matter what! You cancelled the reservation without even asking me first.’

Cupping her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers and whispered, ‘Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...but I have to go.’

.

.

.

When you padded into the living room, sleep befuddled at 5 a.m., you caught Chanyeol and Kyungsoo locked in an embrace, both of their eyes squeezed shut, as if wordlessly conveying an incredible degree of warmth and affection towards each other.

All of it….in “bro code”.

You imagined the conversation in your head, in two deep, distinct male voices:

‘I’m sorry I threw your phone out the window, bro!’

‘It’s what I deserved, bro!’

Rubbing away the drowsiness from your eyes, you tiptoed back into your room so as to not disrupt this….whatever this was supposed to be.

***

Underneath the purple-pink skies, enveloped in the cool early morning breeze, Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, and you, dressed in spandex scuba suits, huddled together in solidarity on the boat’s bulwark.

The diving site that Chanyeol had picked was called ‘Boreas Wreck’. The Boreas was a high sea tugboat that served for the German Navy during World War II. It was deliberately sunk in 1989 for the purpose of creating an artificial reef and thus, a scuba diving attraction.

“Any non-swimmers?” the trainer asked and Kyungsoo’s hand shot up in the air.

Her full lips curled up in a dazzling smile. “You’re brave,” she remarked and you heard Kyungsoo swallow hard, inviting a snigger from Chanyeol.

Hands on hips, her perfect figure accentuated by the spandex, she instructed, “You will be diving deep into this sea now, do you remember the theoretical part I taught you on the shore?”

Chanyeol and you were confident (and loud) in your affirmation.

Kyungsoo, not so much.

With the bulky dive equipment on, the instructor created a circle with her thumb and forefinger, gesturing, “All okay?”

The three of you responded by following suit.

First dive, twelve metres depth.

You’d become the proverbial fish out of water except you were not the fish and you were under water and your whole world had been turned upside down….quite literally.

You spun around to find the instructor assisting Chanyeol with his breathing rhythm and Kyungsoo curled up like a shrimp, hugging his knees. Arm extended, he gave you a “thumbs up” which meant an entirely different thing under water from what it did on land.

Thumbs up, in diving lingo, spelled trouble. It meant that, for whatever reason, the diver wished to ascend. But, by then, you’d known Kyungsoo long enough to understand that there was no real cause for concern.

The look in his eyes told you that he was simply struggling to adapt.

You swam towards him, with your legs and not your arms, in order to maintain good buoyancy control. Clasping your hands together in a mitten grasp, you signalled him to hold onto you. Kyungsoo created a circle with his thumb and forefinger to signal “okay” before putting his hand on your forearm, the soft ripples caused by his gentle movements gleaming in the artificial light from your gear.

You then raised your other arm and flattened your hand, palm down, to “pat” the water in front of you as you would the head of a dog. Wearing a comforting eye smile, you essentially asked Kyungsoo to take it easy and relax. You then levelled your hand with his eyes, palm facing up before drawing a deep breath, wordlessly asking Kyungsoo to breathe slow, deep and long.

Another nod. Another “okay”.

He then pointed his index finger to his ear, the gesture indicating that he couldn’t clear his ears and had trouble equalizing. So you locked your eyes with his and took his elbows in your hands to pull him up to ascend slightly before quickly pushing him down again while wondering whether he’d paid attention to the theoretical lessons at all.

He squeezed his eyes shut before giving you another nod which meant that the equalization was a success.

Kyungsoo’s thumb and forefinger met in another “okay” but this time with an eye smile which you reciprocated with an “okay” before snapping your fingers into a teasing finger heart.

All traces of agreeableness instantly vanished from his visible features.

***

The deeper you went, your fluo green spectrum widened, whelming you with the underwater world’s tranquil beauty which neutralized the shooting pain in your ears and the violent thumping of your heart. Corals in the shape of giant mushrooms floated around you and sea urchins greeted you with their bright purple-brown spikes glowing under the ocean’s natural light. At your feet, a shy goby fish with its large head and tapered body tunneled its way into the sand upon sensing the arrival of strangers.

While you were immersed in this exquisite scenery, a wide eyed Kyungsoo grabbed your attention by waving at you, his hand holding a pink fin.

‘That fin looks familiar,’ you thought before realizing it was your fin that had released itself from your right foot. You almost choked from laughing with the regulator on and the mask attached to your face as Kyungsoo helped you stick it back on.

Having been privy to breathtaking videos and countless stories of the mysteries and magic of the underwater world, a first-hand experience felt surreal. You were quick to adapt to the environment and didn’t try to fight it or control it and your first breath under water had been an experience like no other.

The Boreas Wreck was home to a number of incredible marine species such as Mediterranean sponges and blue gorgonians, scorpionfish, sea urchins, starfish, goatfish, mullets, bream, lobsters, groupers, and barracuda. While you couldn’t pindown all the enticing, drop dead gorgeous palettes of reds, blues, and yellows that crossed paths with you, shoaling, schooling...or even solitary, it didn’t take away from the sheer awe you were overcome with at every second of your time several azure and viridian metres below the surface of land.

The instructor then guided the three of you inside the boat’s wreck, which was safe to enter since all hazardous items had been removed before Boreas was scuttled. With an excited Chanyeol in the lead per usual, you visited some of its confined rooms, and went further in to explore the kitchen, the engine room, the bridge and even the captain’s cabin. The dilapidated metal and wood body of the civil boat, covered almost entirely in sea fauna, was nothing short of a beautiful nightmare.

Traversing, you reached one corner of the boat basked in a blinding white light, enveloping you in a gentle embrace. Emotions so carefully locked away came flooding through the dam of your forced stoic indifference. Giving in, you stretched your arms out, allowing yourself to freefall into a distant memory.

Haphazardly flapping your arms and legs, you struggled to keep your head up but no matter how hard you tried, the pool water made its way into your mouth, nose, and eyes, even.

‘Appa!’ you managed loudly as you felt yourself drowning again.

Your Appa was the one who always came to your rescue.

No matter where you were, no matter how bad things got. He was always there. So when he just stood there, a smile on his face, watching you grapple with a force that mercilessly dragged you down while you kicked and punched and floundered to stay afloat...a mysterious emotion rose within you.

You felt betrayed by the man who was supposed to have your back.

Seething, ‘Appa!’ you bawled, but to no avail.

Until...magically...you didn’t need his help anymore.

After days of relentless torture, you’d finally found yourself moving forward, cutting through the water with synchronized movements of your arms and legs.

But the exhilaration hadn’t lasted long.

A couple of minutes in and you realized that that force was winning again but this time, you didn’t drown.

This time a familiar pair of hands grabbed you before you went under and threw you up in the air as your misty eyes took in the biggest smile on your father’s face with an equally big one gracing your bright features.

Circling his arms around your tiny torso, he nestled you into himself.

‘My champion!’ he whispered into your swim cap covered ear.

***

Back on the boat, with your diving gear off and fresh towels wrapped around your shoulders, you sank to your knees, completely wracked with sobs.

You felt a million emotions, all at once, the reigning one being embarrassment at this sudden outburst. With his arms around you and his chin resting on the top of your head, Chanyeol whispered, ‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ to ground you while gently rocking you back and forth until you’d let it all out. Turning around, you buried your face into the crook of his neck as if to hide away from the inquisitive eyes of Kyungsoo and the instructor. Chanyeol held you closer, his hand stroking the back of your neck in silent support.

.

.

.

Even after a sumptuous lunch of salmon canapes, baked scallops, rice with spiny spider crab, mixed seafood finger foods complete with a chocolate semi sphere, Chanyeol was uncharacteristically quiet and Kyungsoo, uncharacteristically amiable.

“Feels a little morbid to be eating all this seafood after a dive,” you jested with a serious expression, nibbling on a piece of dark chocolate. And it was only then that the boys went back to being their true selves. Amused, Chanyeol guffawed, “Good to have you back!” while Kyungsoo choked on his sparkling white wine.

Shortly after, Chanyeol excused himself to make a call to Aera.

Kyungsoo ordered two coffees for the both of you and you noticed how he kicked about a conversation starter in his head as opened his mouth only to clamp it shut several times, before finally mustering, “I just want to say -”

“No,” you interrupted him in a mortified haste, “no, please don’t say anything I don’t wanna talk about it except, I’m really sorry for making it so awkward for you guys back there.”

“Oh, no,” he gave you a dismissive wave of hand, “it was just Chanyeol, me, and...erm...the pretty instructor who we’ll never see again. Chanyeol makes a complete ass out of himself every waking hour and as for me, please don’t worry about me. Especially not after you found me blind drunk on a rooftop in the dead of night. We all have our moments. I’m sorry,” he suddenly stopped short, expression solemn, “you said you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

You chuckled, teasing, “Pretty instructor, huh?”

This was the longest conversation you’d had with Kyungsoo so far and truth be told, you were caught off guard by... his smile. His resting face was a natural frown, mostly due to his poor eyesight. And in your experience, if he had his glasses on, it was Chanyeol who was the primary reason for his scowl, with you being a close second.

It took you a moment to take in that dazzling, heart shaped smile of his before you could speak again but it was Kyungsoo who lugged the conversation forward.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me back there. I think I felt a little overwhelmed by the,” he pondered his thoughts before concluding, “the vastness of the ocean. Sorry, I’m no poet.”

“Don’t mention it,” you smiled, “How did you feel by the end of it?”

“Umm,” Kyungsoo ruminated on your question, “I felt like I was in the moment...like, reaching a stage of subtle awareness from surface awareness.”

“And you say you’re not a poet,” you quipped, “So, like, meditation?”

“Maybe. It felt as if I was letting go of...of all the emotional baggage -” he trailed off rather plaintively.

Voice laced with hesitance, you sang, “So….maybe…you’ll sleep better tonight?”

Clearly taken aback by your question, Kyungsoo exclaimed, “What?!”

“I’m sorry but, it’s very obvious that you haven’t been sleeping too well.”

Thick eyebrows scrunched together, he let out a confused ‘Oh!’

“Did Chanyeol -” he continued, only to be interrupted by a booming, cheerful voice, “Think of the angel and the angel appears!”

Kyungsoo looked up at a beaming Chanyeol and deadpanned,  “That’s not how the saying goes. Anyway, what took you so long?”

Eyes holding a glint of humour, Chanyeol placed a neatly wrapped iPhone box in front of Kyungsoo and took the dramatics up a notch with a stage performer-esque curtsey thus inviting amused stares from the nearby tables in the courtyard style restaurant. Kyungsoo unwrapped the packaging with the eagerness of a five year old on Christmas Eve and to his disappointment, instead of the high end handphone, he opened the case to a hot pink flip phone.

Kyungsoo let out a low growl, “The fuck is this?”

Standing at a safe distance from his fuming friend, Chanyeol quipped, “A phone,” while making no effort to suppress his laughter.

“Thank you, Mr. State The Obvious, but I’m an adult male, not a Japanese schoolgirl!”

Tickled by his own little prank, Chanyeol threw you under the bus by triumphantly howling, “It was Shifu’s idea!” before darting out of the premises.

Dumbfounded, you exclaimed, “WHAT?! NO!” as Kyungsoo fixed you with a death glare.

.

.

.

‘When were you going to tell me about this?’

Maybe this was one of your endless nightmares.

Maybe this wasn’t happening at all.

Your mother deflected your question by putting things away. Dirty dishes in the washer, clothes in the dryer, leftovers in the fridge, while you followed her around like a lost puppy, a crumpled, time stained letter held delicately in your hand.

The throbbing in your head now bordering on numbness, bile rising up your throat, your legs threatening to give away, you reiterated your question, vociferously this time, surprised at your own power of will. A quality that forever eluded you. The inability to voice your needs, your opinions, masked under a not so thinly veiled sense of self deprecating humour was...you, in a nutshell. This sudden surge of fighting spirit consuming you whole felt alien but at the same time, very natural and, at the same time, it was taking a toll on every nerve, every muscle, every bone.

Every second felt like your last.

‘Would she be able to handle it all over again?’ crestfallen, you mused, ‘The grief. The sympathy. The cumulation of my life -- all these decades condensed into a tiny vessel of ever fading memories. The sands of time trickling through her wrinkled fingers.’

‘Eomma, please -’ you cried out, only for your plea to fall upon deaf ears.

It wasn’t until the next morning that she spoke to you again.

Bloodshot eyes framed by the weight of living, she handed you a warm cup of tea and let out a deep sigh.

‘He never wanted you. It was your Appa who accepted me...he accepted us… It’s been three days since your Appa -,’ wracked with sobs, it took her a while to compose herself to be able to speak again, ‘don’t dishonour his memory.’

‘Why should I believe a word you say? Why should I believe that- that my own father never wanted me?’

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 57: Gatto’s Keep

Becoming The Mask

Trollish and -text messages-

I hope we all enjoy the movie when it comes out this Wednesday! Remember, today’s the last day to start binge-watching and still have enough time to watch every episode of all three shows before the movie airs!

+=+

Four humans, one Changeling, and two unaltered trolls were scatted around an underground library, researching notable locations around the world.

"Whoa, listen to this," said Jim. "Surrounding the Hero's Forge of Heartstone Trollmarket is a chasm known as The Deep, which was enchanted through unknown means by the Trollhunter Kanjigar the Courageous."

They were hoping to find notable mountains, in particular, but 'caverns deep' had also been mentioned in the riddle, and hey, maybe Strickler had been wrong about where the Eye was before the Changelings got it.

"Anyone cast into The Deep will suffer death at the hands of their greatest fear. It has since been used as a means of execution for particularly heinous criminals. No troll is known to have entered The Deep and lived."

Jim frowned and traced over that last sentence with his fingertip.

"How does anybody know it works if no one has ever come back?" he said. "Maybe they just die on impact after getting dropped off a cliff. Or maybe there's, like, a little society down there now and they're just choosing not to leave."

"I saw a cartoon like that once," said Toby.

"Also," Jim continued, "I understand why, if you think somebody deserves to be tortured to death, you would use magical means to get them to come up with a customized torture for themselves to maximize their suffering; but why would you kill someone, who you definitely want executed, in a way that makes it impossible to check and confirm they're dead?"

"Isn't that how oubliettes work?" said Mary.

"Good point."

"You understand torturing people to death?" said Darci.

"I understand trying to do a thing a thoroughly as it can possibly be done."

"Maybe Kanjigar pretended to enchant the place so he could have a spot no one would bother him if he wanted to get away from his job for a while," said Toby.

"Surrounded by the bodies of executed criminals?" said Darci.

"Depending on how hard they landed, they might already be gravel," said Jim. "It's a little unsettling when you know that used to be a troll, but you get used to it. Besides, Kanjigar was only Trollhunter for … what, just under a hundred and seventy years? How many 'particularly heinous criminals' could there have been down here in that time?" He turned to Blinky. "No, really, I'm asking."

"Offhand I can only think of three cases, all involving treason. Perhaps Kanjigar can explain the enchantment next time you visit the Void. Ah!"

Blinky turned his book so everyone else could see the illustrated mountain.

"Gatto's Keep! Deep in the realm of the Volcanic Trolls, in what you humans call 'Argentina', under the volcano Ojos del Salado."

"The eye of the salty?" said Claire.

"Believed to be named for the many salt deposits found on its glaciers, forming eye-like lagoons of meltwater," said Blinky, brushing the interruption off.

"Salt gets expelled through volcanic ash," said Toby. "Or chlorine gas that fuses to nitrogen later. Underwater volcanic activity is part of why the ocean is salty."

"Fortunately, this particular site is not underwater," said Blinky. "Gatto's Keep, a vault of treasures untold – treasures deemed too powerful for the underworld to possess, and kept locked up by Gatto himself."

"Have you ever met this Gatto?" asked Jim.

"Uh … no. Truth be told, I've done everything in my power to avoid him. Very few ever return from his keep."

"I see." Jim frowned down at the book in his lap. "Then maybe you guys shouldn't come."

"What?"

"Are you kidding?"

"The last time we went on a Triumbric Stone quest, a supposedly mostly safe quest, we ended up in the middle of a violent revolution!" Jim reminded them. "I'm not leading a bunch of kids somewhere I know in advance is going to be dangerous!"

"He makes a fair point," conceded Blinky.

"But you can't just go on your own!" Toby protested.

"Of course I won't. Blinky's got to drive the Gyre, and I'll bring Draal for muscle, and –" Jim cut himself off, looking quickly around the room. "Maybe someone else, but I'll have to ask. And if she can, it'll have to work around her schedule."

"You're bringing your mom?" Darci asked.

"No!" Jim recoiled from the idea. "I – Look, there's a Changeling I know who might be able and willing to help, especially for a chance at a legendary vault of forbidden treasure, but I have to ask."

Toby got out his phone and texted Jim rather than asking out loud.

-It's the museum lady, isn't it?-

Jim just glared at him. Both boys deleted the message.

+=+

"Have you ever heard of Gatto's Keep?"

Nomura raised her eyebrow at the Trollhunter.

"Not much. It was one of the places we suspected a piece of the Bridge might be hidden, but considering it had a reputation of no one ever coming back from it, we weren't actually sure if it was real."

It was just as likely to have been an old story that got passed down until it became a figure of speech. The Janus Order’s references to it were all from before Nomura was even stationed on the surface – she'd happened upon them while on archive duty decades ago.

"Blinky says it's real." Jim shrugged. "Or at least Gatto is real, and lives in Argentina. We're planning to go see him about an artifact he might have."

"You're not looking for the Triumphant Stones, are you?" she asked. "Draal's told me that story." Years ago, back when he'd first tried to convince her to change sides. It was the closest he'd ever been to philosophical. "Building a weapon is one thing, but chasing prophecies is another."

Jim shrugged again. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well take every advantage I can. The Triumbric Stones might not be the key their reputation says, but they'll still help."

"Assuming the stones aren't just a trap that will put the Amulet under Gunmar's control."

He snorted. "Oh, come on. If they worked that way, Bular would've been the one to bring them up."

"Not if the conspiracy went deep enough." She snorted as well. "Sure, I'll help loot the place."

"If diplomacy fails," said Jim insistently. "I want to at least try cutting a deal first. When do you have time?"

"I don't work Wednesday or Thursday."

"Great. I'll text. Oh, also," he suddenly looked much more shy, "this comes with a risk of a human or several finding out about you. Still in?"

Nomura leveled a glare at Jim, letting him squirm while she thought it over. (He didn't squirm at all, the shameless wretch. Just looked at her with that stupid timid hopeful expression.)

"For a chance at a legendary treasure trove like that, I might transform in public."

Human public, where they could make up some excuse about hidden cameras and movie costumes and practical special effects, not Trollmarket public, but most Changelings wouldn't need to clarify that.

+=+

Nomura had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing a wide-brimmed brown fedora.

"Isn't that Stricklander's hat?"

"It's traditional garb for archeological expeditions."

"You stole it, didn't you?" His inflection made it clear this was not really a question.

"I'm going to send him a selfie and see how long it takes him to realize it's his." Nomura held her phone out and snapped a picture.

"Hi, museum lady!" Toby greeted. They were meeting in the canal. "I brought tacos!"

"… Why are we bringing him?"

Jim sighed. He hadn't wanted to, but Toby made a good argument.

"Diversity of perspective. A human might notice something a troll or Changeling would miss, just like vice versa. We don't know how organized this Gatto guy's collection is. We might have to go looking for the Birthstone."

Thankfully Claire had a 'family thing', Darci had an 'extracurricular commitment', and Mary had a date, all on Wednesday, and he had been able to get that information without revealing Thursday was also an option.

Inside, Nomura shifted to her troll form, keeping the hat showing. Toby gasped.

"You're so tall …"

"Toby, Nomura," introduced Jim. They started climbing down the glowing staircase. "Officially, she's one of Draal's old sparring buddies who's agreed to come on this mission for extra muscle."

So please do not address her as 'museum lady' where anyone can hear you.

"Isn't Draal coming too?" asked Toby.

"Which is how she got invited."

"I don't get it."

"She's going to meet Draal while you and I go to the library, and then we're all meeting up at the Gyre station."

"Why didn't she just –" Toby stopped and readdressed the question to Nomura. "Why didn't you just meet up with Draal at Jim's place?"

"I'm avoiding the chance Barbara will try asking me for life advice again," said Nomura lightly.

Jim's eyebrows went up. He hadn't questioned her suggestion to meet in the canal, but now he really wanted the story there …

"When did that happen?" asked Toby.

"We're in the same krav maga class."

Which did not completely answer the question, but Toby seemed to think it did, and Jim didn't want to push when Nomura was arguably doing him a favour.

On the one hand, he could claim to be doing her a favour, taking her along on a treasure hunt where she could sneak out an artifact or two for herself, but on the other hand, she was loaning her experience in identifying and handling ancient artifacts and dealing with stuffy curators. The situation was roughly neutral and Jim didn't want to tip it.

The walk to the library, and to the Gyre station after that, were peaceful. AAARRRGGHH accompanied them as far as the station entrance.

"Good luck," he said, tapping his horns against Blinky's, rubbing the top of Jim's helmeted head like he was fluffing his hair, and giving Toby a very gentle pat on the back.

"I will look after them," Draal promised, arriving with Nomura. "We will all return from Gatto's Keep."

"Well, now that you've said that," Nomura teased.

+=+

Jim's first impression was that Ojos del Salado looked like a construction project was underway. Or, maybe a mining operation? The mountain was hollowed out, with another mountain inside, and the inner mountain was covered with ladders and scaffolding.

"Ugh, it's so hot," Toby complained. "I know it's a volcano, but still." He pulled at his sweater vest but didn't take it off.

The local trolls wore what looked like welding masks over their faces, and had faintly glowing orange lines carved into their skin. Two appeared to be standing guard near the Gyre station – but facing in, towards the complex, rather than outwards to new arrivals.

Very few ever return, rang loudly through Jim's mind.

"Excuse me," said Blinky to one of the sentries. "We would most graciously request an audience with Gatto."

The troll wordlessly pointed them to the top.

"Ah … thank you, kind friend."

Toby was groaning after the first few ladders. By the time they neared the top, he had stopped, probably to conserve energy – but he managed another when they realized the platform was empty.

"Where is he? They pointed 'up' but there's no more 'up' to go … Did he leave while we were climbing up here?"

Jim eyed the stone the scaffold was built by. It might be climbable. There was a long but narrow ledge about level with the platform, and a tall, V-shaped protrusion probably taller than AAARRRGGHH, and – the ledge split apart. It glowed inside.

"Who has awakened Gatto?"

The mountain-in-a-mountain opened two glowing yellow eyes. A chuckle made the platform shake.

"A human Trollhunter?" the mountain-in-a-mountain said. "How interesting. How … unique. To what do I owe this … pleasure?"

Jim cleared his throat and leaned back a little so he could look Gatto in the eye. "We've come to ask –"

One of the masked trolls arrived, pushing a wooden cart of rocks. The delivery-troll darted away just in time to avoid a massive tongue, and ran back off the platform into the lower scaffolding. Jim reflexively summoned his knives. It was difficult to will them away.

"You must excuse me," said Gatto. "I never talk business without something to eat. Go on."

"We've come for the Birthstone."

"Birthstone of Gunmar?" The mountain troll chuckled again. "Very powerful. Tell me … why should I give it to you?"

"Of course we don't expect you to just give it to us."

Jim ignored Draal's quiet, "We don't?" He took off his backpack, handed it to Blinky, and unzipped the top.

"We've come prepared to trade."

"We did?"

The first thing Jim got out was black and rectangular. Its cord was plugged into a crystal array which some trolls used to substitute for electrical outlets, to power the neon signs and Christmas lights and televisions down in Trollmarket. Blinky had one for his phone charger.

"This is an uncommon human device. You activate and deactivate it with this button here." Jim pushed the button twice, demonstrating. "By turning these knobs, it's possible to generate a custom frequency of audible static."

He put the white noise generator back in his bag, and got out a lumpy object wrapped in a towel. He draped the cloth over his shoulder and held the item where Gatto could see it.

"This is the head of Bular, son of Gunmar, taken as proof that he was slain. Proof that Gunmar's line is not unkillable."

Gatto looked intrigued. Jim rewrapped the head in the towel and switched it for a book. Blinky grimaced during the exchange.

"And this is a document stolen from a Janus Order base; an unfinished medical study of foods that provide nutrition to both humans and trolls."

He flipped through a few pages so the text was visible, proof he wasn't scamming Gatto with a blank notebook, and put it away.

"Seller's choice. Rare artifacts that carry entertainment, power, and knowledge. Which of those would you accept as payment for the Birthstone?"

"Hmm …" The mountain troll pondered the selection. "I think I will have all three. Along with the answer to a little riddle. Answer it correctly – the Birthstone is yours. Answer it incorrectly – I eat you all."

"WHAT?" Toby yelped. "Did I understand that right? Did he say 'eat'? He said 'eat'!"

"Breathe, Tobes." The Sword of Daylight was in Jim's hand. His first instinct was to pick Toby up and bolt for the Gyre. He should be strong enough for that if he switched to troll form, right?

But they needed the Birthstone …

"Master Jim, we must not enter into this binding agreement," Blinky hissed in English. "I'm beginning to catch on why so few trolls ever leave this domicile."

"We'll play!"

"Nomura?!"

"It's simple – either we figure out the riddle and he gives us the stone, or we refuse to answer, which is not technically answering incorrectly, and fight our way out."

"… When you're right, you're right," Jim agreed.

"You think you are clever," said Gatto. "So answer me this. What begins and has no end, and ends all that which begins?"

Blinky blinked, in full unison for once, all six eyes together. "… I have absolutely no idea. Those words mean nothing! Indecipherable!"

"Begins and has no end," Jim repeated to himself quietly, "and ends all that begins."

"I … don't think I can help," said Draal reluctantly. "Rocks for brains, remember?"

"Well, that attitude's not helping, for sure. Begins with no end, ends what begins …"

"School bus?" Toby guessed, switching back to English. "Uh, meatloaf? Hair?"

"Let's think logically," said Nomura, also in English. "In these situations, the answer is almost always one of four things: death, nothing, eternity, or a riddle itself." She counted them off on her fingers. "The answer to a riddle is its end. Eternity by definition doesn't have a beginning or an end. So it's either death or nothing."

"Ten more seconds," said Gatto ominously.

"You didn't tell us we were on the clock!" Blinky protested.

"What begins and has no end, but doesn't end when it begins –?" Jim punched his hand. "Shoot, that's not it! Could you repeat the question?"

"Kangaroo! Golf! Socks! Magic! Warhammer! Baby deer!"

"DEATH!" shouted Nomura. "The answer is death!"

"What?" Gatto gasped. "No one has ever answered that before … and lived to tell about it."

The celebration at getting the correct answer ended immediately.

"And that's the hazard of riddle games where the answer is death," said Nomura. "Most riddle-givers pick that answer because it's what they plan to give the riddle-solvers anyway."

The group was surrounded by four masked trolls, all armed with axes about twice the size of the hammer Toby carried.

"Your entire keep is a trap!" Blinky accused Gatto. "You hoard treasures as nothing but bait!"

"Oh, come now. A mountain has to eat, you know." He opened his mouth, like he expected them to just obediently walk in.

Jim summoned Daylight. The volcano trolls all flinched back from the burst of light.

Nomura lunged at the guard nearest to the ladder. She caught the axe between her swords and twisted it out of the masked troll's grip, flinging the weapon into Gatto's mouth – he yelped when it caught his tongue – and in the same spin she kicked the masked troll off the platform.

Draal punched a masked troll, then grabbed them and another one and bashed their heads together.

Blinky swung Jim's backpack like a flail at anyone who got too close to him. Jim heard a cracking noise, either from the head or the white noise generator, but that wasn't important.

Jim swiped a masked troll across the belly, leaving a shallow cut and causing them to bellow in pain. He threw a knife at another one that was going after Toby, who was doing his best to parry their axe strikes.

Nomura kicked another one off the platform, and Draal threw a third, but more were climbing up, and driving the group back towards Gatto's mouth.

"Get them!" Gatto egged the smaller trolls on. "Prepare the chimichurri!"

A masked troll landed a punch on Nomura and knocked her backwards into Toby. Gatto's tongue flicked out and tossed them both into his mouth.

"I don't want to be food!" Toby howled, before Gatto's jaws snapped shut around them and the mountain gulped.

"Toby! Nomura!" Jim screamed. "TOBY!"

"RAH!" Draal charged Gatto –

"Draal, no!" Blinky shouted.

– and Gatto simply opened his mouth again and swallowed the rolling troll.

Jim's helmet sealed as he switched to troll shape. He threw a volley of knives at their attackers, who backed off for the few seconds he needed to shove Blinky to the ladder.

"Get to the Gyre!" he roared. At one level down, below that horrid mouth, he turned and lunged at Gatto.

Swallowing wasn't instant. If he could get the throat open, he could still save them. He didn't know if he could gut a mountain but he'd find out if that was what it took to get Toby back –

Daylight was a sword, not a pickaxe. Jim slashed and stabbed, and scratched with his now-clawed gauntlets and boots, and made barely any headway.

"Jim!" Blinky was now several levels of scaffolding lower, and fending off more of the smaller volcano trolls with an axe he must have grabbed from one of them. "Were we not attempting to vacate?"

Jim let go of Gatto and slid down the mountainside, and with another roar he stabbed the troll nearest to Blinky through the eye with one of his daggers, shattering the lens on that side. The troll bellowed in pain and clutched their face, dropping their axe. The dagger vanished, leaving an open wound, and reappeared in Jim's hand. He sliced into the arm of another attacker.

The troll with the injured eye staggered and, between the pain and the sudden loss of depth perception, knocked the other masked trolls off the platform. Blinky threw the ladder after them, reducing pursuit from above.

Jim turned to start burrowing through Gatto's hide again.

"Jim!" said Blinky again. "We must leave!"

He barely heard Blinky. He certainly didn't hear his phone, chiming the alert for an incoming text.

+=+

The stomach was even hotter than the 'outside' had been. Toby had gone through both his water bottles during the climb up to meet Gatto and didn't have any left. Not that this was his primary concern at the moment, considering –

"We just got eaten!"

"I noticed," said Nomura scathingly.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, this isn't happening, this isn't happening –"

"Do you have an international plan?" she said, interrupting his entirely justified freak-out.

"What?" asked Toby. "What does that have to do with anything? We're in a stomach! It doesn't matter what country the stomach's in!"

"Ugh. I'll take that as a no." She got her phone out of the duffle bag she carried and shoved the device into Toby's hand. "Text Jim. We're alive, Gatto's Keep is Gatto's gut," gesturing at the gold and artefacts around them, "and we're going for the Birthstone."

Assuming the lava-acid, which was rising, didn't get them first.

Draal came down the tunnel, fast enough he shot over their heads and over pool of lava-acid, skipping once (with a roar of pain) and landing on the other side.

"Draal! Are you okay?" It was a stupid question that Toby asked without any conscious thought.

Draal uncurled and growled. He gingerly touched his right arm, which looked shinier than usual and must have been what touched the lava.

"Where are we?"

"Gatto's Keep," said Nomura. "I guess that's one way to deter theft. Find the Birthstone. And be careful what else you touch, some of this might be cursed." She put a triangular thing with green gems on it into her bag. "We'll crawl up his throat and choke him or something once we've got it."

Wow, Nomura was not a detailed texter. Toby saw the last few messages she'd exchanged with Jim while he was typing.

Jim: -Today still works to check that collection?-

Nomura: -16:30- -canal-

Jim: -Okay, see you there!-

Toby, on Nomura's phone: -still alive- -gatto's keep in stomach- -going for birthstone-

Toby put her phone in his pocket and started digging through the piles of gold.

Curses or no curses, if Nomura got to take souvenirs, Toby was totally stealing some of these gold coins.

And maybe that glowy purple rock –

Wait –

"I think I found it!"

+=+

Jim – Jim couldn't do it, he couldn't stab deep enough to cut Gatto open and protect himself and Blinky at the same time –

He kept having to abandon his spot and climb down a few levels, and start over at an even thicker part of the mountain's hide –

Blinky kept urging him to the Gyre, but they couldn't leave, not yet, they had to get Toby back, they had to get Nomura and Draal, they couldn't just leave them behind –

Jim drew one of his poisoned knives. He carried more varieties on him than just Creeper's Sun. Gatto couldn't get away with this. Jim was the Trollhunter, he wasn't going to let some troll eat a human right in front of him. He wasn't going to let some troll eat Toby and live.

He drove the knife into a cut he'd already started with his sword, and left it there while fending off the masked trolls again, then ripped it out.

If Jim didn't manage to kill Gatto today, the troll would suffer a much slower death.

+=+

Draal had been favouring his burned arm. He looked up the steep tunnel of Gatto's throat and tried to lift his burned arm, and grunted in pain.

"I … I can't climb out. You'll have to leave me behind."

"What is wrong with you today?" Nomura demanded. "You've never been this – this fatalistic before."

"Guys," Toby interrupted. "There's another way out, but you're not gonna like it. If this is his stomach, then there's a 'back door', and if we upset the stomach," he tossed a nearby crystal into the acid, where it dissolved with a flatulent sound, "then we might have a chance to be passed through."

Nomura grimaced. "We're going out that way eventually." She started tossing things into the acid as well. "I'd rather go out alive."

"What are you both –? Oh." Draal's eyes widened and he looked like he might have an upset stomach himself. "That's – ugh. The shame of being remembered for that."

"There's no shame in survival," said Nomura.

Draal grabbed an entire shelving unit of bottles and threw it into the acid, where the potions exploded with blue light. He fell back and began coughing.

"Draal?!" Toby cried.

"I'm alright, I'm – is that my voice? Is that my" – he coughed again – "voice?" The high squeak had gone back to its normal gravelly depth. Draal shook his head and helped Nomura shove a heavy crate into the acid.

Toby started coughing too. It was so hot and smoky …

The troll, the Changeling, and the human climbed onto a boulder that hadn't melted yet. The lava continued to rise. They balanced precariously. Draal and Nomura were both forced to duck as they got closer to the ceiling.

"I guess this is my last chance to eat these," Toby lamented, taking out a taco. Nomura's eyes widened. Toby had only taken a single bite when she snatched the food and the bag out of his hands and threw them into the gut-lava. "What –? No! Those were Diablo Maximus!"

"And if this doesn't work, you'll die with that taste in your mouth."

The acid level started to drop – spiraling like it was going down a drain. Draal wrapped his arms tight around his two smaller companions.

"The back door!" cried Toby. "It's open! I gotta text Jimbo!"

All three of them screamed as they surfed on the boulder through Gatto's volcanic intestines.

+=+

Blinky kept an eye on Jim as they climbed and ran and fought and climbed some more. It had taken until they were nearly halfway down Gatto's sides to convince Jim to flee instead of continuing to attack. Blinky was ready to physically pull the boy along if he tried it again.

This was awful. Horrible. And all Blinky's fault, besides. Coming to Gatto's Keep had been his suggestion, and it had cost three lives already, and if they died here as well, the Amulet would become another part of Gatto's collection, no good to anyone.

But there would be time for blame and grief and stewing over what else might have gone wrong once Jim and Blinky were out of there and no longer in mortal peril.

Gatto tried to grab them with his craggy hand. Jim roared and nearly deprived the mountain troll of a finger.

Gatto said something, but his head was too far away now for Blinky to make it out. It might have been 'nachos'?

Another taunt about how he intended to eat them, no doubt.

"No more guards?" said Jim. They were off the scaffolding now, and it looked like a straight shot to the Gyre station.

The ground started to crack and rumble ominously. There were spurts of lava, and a smell Blinky hadn't expected but regretfully recognized. They ran faster.

Someone screamed behind them.

"Start it up! Start it up! START IT UP!"

"Toby!" Jim yelled.

Tobias, Nomura, and Draal erupted out of a rock wall nearby. They all cried out when they crash landed, and then ran for the Gyre just as Blinky and Jim were doing. Draal grabbed the Gyre's outer wheel and, with a bellow, set it spinning to jumpstart the vehicle. They piled in, and zoomed away.

It was a miraculous escape. Blinky would have to record this for the history books.

"I am – so sorry," he said to them all. Even at the Gyre's speed, it would take some time to get to Arcadia from Ojos del Salado. "If I had realized the nature of Gatto's Keep, I never would have brought us there."

"He did have the Birthstone," said Nomura. Blinky turned just enough to see her with his outermost eye. She seemed unscathed, and was still wearing a hat. Her bag was now bulging with whatever else she'd … claimed as recompense for the trauma of today's experience.

Blinky turned the other way to check as best he could on Jim and Toby. Draal was in the centre of the Gyre bench and hardest to see without turning around, though Blinky could at least tell he was there.

Jim was wrapped around Toby. His helmet was open again, and his eyes were glowing. Toby was clinging to Jim as well, and breathing hard.

"I saved us," Tobias bragged. "My tacos were the key to our grand escape." Jim tightened his grip.

He didn't let go of Toby until they reached Trollmarket. AAARRRGGHH was waiting for them at the Gyre station. (And oh, that made Blinky's gut twist, to think AAARRRGGHH had been sitting there awaiting their return and they might not have come back because Blinky had led them into danger.) AAARRRGGHH reached into the basket to help Toby and Jim disembark.

Jim let go of Tobias and swiped at AAARRRGGHH with Daylight.

AAARRRGGHH recoiled, unhurt physically – Blinky had seen the distance between his hand and the sword – but wounded all the same.

"Jim?" said Toby. "Dude, calm down."

"Red eyes," said AAARRRGGHH. Jim's eyes were still glowing. "Hurt?"

Draal, who had been climbing down the other side of the Gyre, grunted and lost his balance. When he got up, Blinky finally got a proper look at him.

"Great Gronka Morka, Draal, what's happened to your arm?!"

His right arm was half grey, with pits starting to form where the dead stone had cracked, and the patches that were still blue were far glossier than was natural, like he'd spent a month buffing and polishing his hide.

"Gut-lava," said Draal. His eyes were out of focus. "And straining. And that fall, just now."

"He used his arms to shield us while we were – getting out," said Toby, giving a sideways look to Jim before finishing that sentence. "And he landed badly coming in."

"Need Vendel," AAARRRGGHH decided. He offered his open hand to Jim and Toby again. Jim growled and readied his sword.

"You two take him," Nomura said. "Jim can't go through the market with his eyes like that, and he's not going to calm down until he stops thinking he has to protect his human from another troll any second."

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH looked at each other. Blinky split his focus to look at AAARRRGGHH, Jim, and Draal at the same time. AAARRRGGHH looked from Blinky, to Jim, to Draal, then back to Blinky, and nodded.

AAARRRGGHH moved to stand on Draal's injured side. Blinky climbed out of the Gyre – Jim turned the sword towards him for the moment it took to get to the steps, moving closer to the human and Changeling than he'd been whilst at the controls – and stood at Draal's other side.

He was loath to leave, but Draal needed medical attention, and Nomura was right that proximity to larger trolls seem to be increasing Jim's distress.

Blinky turned an eye back to Nomura.

"What about you?"

"I'll stand guard and make sure no one else walks in on this." She sat on the floor and opened the bag she'd been carrying. "I can get started on cataloguing while I wait."

"And will you be alright, Tobias?" Blinky asked.

"I think so?" The boy looked at Jim uncertainly. "Dude, it's Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. They're not gonna hurt us. Shouldn't it be my turn to be freaking out right now?"

+=+

"I'm sorry," said Vendel to Draal, as gently as the brusque elder was able. "The damage is … severe. I suspect your arm cannot be saved. I advise that we amputate, to keep the cracks from spreading higher, so your shoulder can be fitted with a prosthetic."

Draal grimaced. He stared at his cracked, pitted arm and flexed his fingers with a wince. A few more chips came loose. He touched one of the worst with his uninjured hand.

For the examination, the leather strip that usually wrapped around his right wrist was removed, showing the scarred crack that extended onto his hand. Vendel remembered treating that wound – he'd been worried Draal would lose his hand then as well.

"What if we used metal packing?" asked Draal.

"You lost some mobility in your wrist last time," Vendel reminded him. "If we tried that now, with your more extensive injuries, the amount of metal necessary and immobilization while you healed would likely lock the joints in place for good. And we would need to clear out the dead stone before we begin. Depending on the depth of damage," which was already and obviously deep, "your arm might come off in any case."

"… Can I have some time to think about it?"

In a sense, no, because the longer he went without treatment (beyond the painkillers Vendel had already given him), the worse his injuries would get, and the more likely it was the decision would be made for him.

"If you can remain still while you decide, I can give you a few hours."

"Thank you."

Vendel was not a prayerful troll, but he prayed he wasn't just giving Draal false hope.

+=+

"Hey, your eyes are blue again!" Toby cheered. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Maybe."

"And you're using words!" He patted Jim on the shoulder. "Think maybe we can get off the Gyre now?"

Jim looked at Nomura, still sitting on the station floor in troll form with her stolen treasures spread around her, and shook his head.

Early on in her sorting process, she'd propped up one of her treasures next to the Gyre – a trident with a red gem set on a ring below the fork. The red gem had started glowing when she'd turned the ring and seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room, which was an incredible relief for Toby's overheated skin.

"Dude, come on. I thought she was, like, your friend?"

Nomura laughed. "Oh, we go way back."

"… I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not."

"It wasn't," said Jim.

"So why is she scary to you?"

"Excuse me, are you not intimidated by me?" she asked, casually running her finger along the length of one of her cool swords. Which seemed like kind of the opposite of helping Jim calm down.

"You helped us," Toby reminded her.

"And we're all richer for it," she agreed.

Seriously, was she being sarcastic or not? Or, maybe not sarcastic, but … teasing? Was that it?

"You got eaten," said Jim, as though Toby could possibly have forgotten this. "By a troll. You getting eaten by a troll is literally one of my worst nightmares. I can't … I can't let you be in Trollmarket right now. There's too many trolls I don't know. I probably shouldn't fight them all, but I'm going to want to."

Toby sighed and turned back to his phone. He loved Go-Go Sushi, but there were only so many times he could play it in a day.

Oh, hey, wait, phones.

"Here, you should take your phone back." He put it as far down the Gyre's foldaway steps as he could reach without getting off the boat and having Jim grab him again. Nomura waited until he was back in the boat before standing to get it.

"Why do you have Nomura's phone?"

"From when we texted you we were alive. She's got an international plan and I don't."

"I didn't notice the text come in," Jim admitted.

"That's fair. You would've been pretty distracted."

+=+

Draal didn't want to lose his arm.

He had no regrets about what he'd done – if he hadn't been there, Nomura or Tobias would have been the ones hurt, or might even have fallen off the boulder and died – but he would rather have been able to save them without ending up in this position.

Draal liked his body. He liked his arms. He liked his strength and agility, and his reach, and how easy most weapons were to use, and how easy it was to switch between going on two legs, all fours, or a roll.

Whatever happened now would change that. Patch job or prosthetic, he'd have to restart his training to compensate for the change in balance. He wouldn't have the same reach or flexibility anymore. His grip on two-handed weapons would change.

It would have been easier, in a way, if he'd been hurt badly enough for the arm to come off on its own. Then at least he wouldn't have to decide whether to have what was left of it cut off, or to try and salvage it and risk seeing it crumble away in any case.

He wished his mother still lived in Trollmarket. Ballustra was a weaponsmith, but she had done prosthetic work as well, and helped with injuries that needed metal packing. He trusted Vendel to give him good advice, but … Draal wanted his mother.

(She'd gone back to the Old World a few centuries ago, after she and Kanjigar had divorced. Draal hadn't actually seen her in person for almost twenty years now. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until he started thinking about her.)

He sighed heavily. The movement of his chest caused his arm to move on the table. A few more pieces flaked off. Had they been already broken and sitting there, or had they just broken away? Was it his imagination, or did some of the cracks just get a little bit longer?

With the depth and spread of the fissures, metal packing would noticeably increase the weight of his arm. Draal would be fit to return to the field far sooner if he accepted a prosthetic, which could be graded to a compatible weight. He'd have use of two hands again more quickly, too.

Draal's blue hide had been nearly seared off in some places, exposing the veins of purplish crystal underneath. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing some of it. So smooth; a bit itchy at the edges.

Vendel had not simply left him alone. The Elder was looking through his supplies, giving Draal an illusion of privacy while keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't aggravate his wounds.

"Vendel. If … If we try to save it. What are the odds it'll work?"

"Very low, I'm afraid. We can keep it attached, if that's your wish, but it would likely not be functional."

"Meaning?"

"In the worst case scenario, it would be like an immobile prosthesis with bits of your living stone embedded in it. In the best case, you would recover about half the mobility you had before."

Draal grimaced. He studied what was left of his arm again. Gorgus, some of the pits were so deep they nearly went halfway through.

"Cut it off."

+=+

"Then we all reached the Gyre, and Draal worsened his injuries to start the mechanism."

They were waiting outside the Gyre station. Blinky had just finished reciting the day's events to AAARRRGGHH.

"This is my doing. I knew Gatto held a place on the Tribunal, but never even thought to ask Vendel's assessment of his character. So now Jim is terrified of us all, Tobias is probably also mentally scarred, and Draal is grievously injured for my failure as a researcher."

AAARRRGGHH, always a troll of few words, had no words that could make Blinky feel less responsible for what had happened. He tried anyway.

"Attacking was Gatto's choice, not Blinky's."

"He didn't attack us, AAARRRGGHH! He made his terms clear, and I knew better than to accept but I did anyway, and now –" He flailed his arms. "I can only be thankful Jim didn't actually hurt you, and no one actually died."

"I'm sorry about that."

They both jumped, and turned to see Jim and Toby. Jim's helmet was sealed, and he was between them and Toby, but he was unarmed.

"I shouldn't have agreed to the riddle game either," said Jim. "That was a stupid gamble. I should've just stabbed him in the face the second he started talking about eating us."

"I feel like that's not the lesson we should take from this, but at the same time I can't argue," said Toby.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my fears get the better of me when I – I trust you. I know you would never."

"Forgiven," AAARRRGGHH assured him at once.

Blinky looked passed the boys, into the Gyre station. It stood empty.

"Where has Nomura gone?" And how had he not noticed her leaving? She would have had to go right past them.

"She wanted to see Draal before we left," said Jim.

+=+

"Hey," said Nomura.

"Hey." Draal lifted his new prosthetic hand in greeting. It made a faint clanking sound.

"… I came to show off all the stuff I took," she claimed, rather than admit she'd been concerned and wanted to check on him. Draal leaned forward.

"Show me."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Otto keeps unintentionally sabotaging his own coup.)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (As though Draal hasn’t been through enough, he turns human.)

This was the longest chapter yet! Helped along by how I had a few hundred words already prepped from the early days of fic writing, back when I thought they would be doing to search for the Triumbric Stones in canonical order and Blinky was still going to be the troll who turned human. How far we've come, eh?

There are two non-Tales of Arcadia cartoon references in this chapter, one to a show and one to a movie. Spot them for imaginary prizes! I'll reveal them in the notes for the next chapter.

I do not know what regular lava would do to a troll, but since Gatto digests that poor unfortunate troll in his introductory episode (seen sinking into the gut-lava when Toby and Blinky arrive in the stomach), I assume that particular type of lava can mess stone-flesh up. The term 'gut-lava' was used in one of the spinoff comics.

Out of curiosity, I looked up 'Ojos del Salado', which is a real place. Some fun facts: It is the highest active volcano in the world, and the second-highest mountain in both the Western Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere. It's actually on the Argentina-Chile border, and the mountain has two summits, one in each country. There is a crater lake on the eastern side that is believed to be the highest lake in the world.

Draal's mom Ballustra was named in the spinoff novels. I have not yet decided how much of the novels' depiction I will use, beyond the name and the job and the bit about her and Kanjigar being divorced. Or separated? The novel does not actually use the word 'divorced', but it does say they were married when Draal was born, and heavily implies they were not married anymore by the time Kanjigar died without providing a word for how the end of a marriage is described in troll society.

[bedlamsbard]

Putting aside aesthetics and characterization (inasmuch as I can), I have been trying to logic out why Mando Ahsoka feels so different from Rebels Ahsoka (to me, personally; I know many other people feel fine about it), especially in terms of having a character who’s known in Rebels for her “I am no Jedi” line going to a character who is specifically introduced as “The Jedi” in The Mandalorian.  (And who is identified as “Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Knight” on merch -- merch is merch, it’s essentially meaningless, but it’s still a choice that was made somewhere along the line.)

“Shroud of Darkness,” Rebels 2.17

“Twilight of the Apprentice,” Rebels 2.21

This is strictly Doylist and not Watsonian; I don’t care what went on in the character’s life in between Rebels and Mando; I’m trying to guess what was happening in the writers room.

I was noodling through this on Twitter, in case it looks familiar.

My first thought was Dave taking a cut scene from Rebels as canon going into Mando, something he shared on Twitter back in the lead-up to S4.  Looking at this again I’m not sure this was a cut scene or a scene that he wrote that never made it into the actual script. (Certainly I can’t see how it would have fit into the episode.)

Here Bendu specifically identifies Ahsoka as “former Jedi Knight.”  This is also obviously not canon, because Twitter posts aren’t canon, Dave.  (Though that doesn’t mean that he might have taken it as part of his working backstory for the character anyway.)

I was then thinking about TCW and the unused TCW arcs as they existed in 2016 when this aired (with the rough guess that Rebels S2 was probably written in 2014).  There are three Ahsoka arcs that were written and existed in 2016 in some form (”scripts and some artwork” is what Pablo Hidalgo says, and some pre-viz and recordings from the original Walkabout arc that were shown at a couple Celebrations), but which hadn’t made it into S6 (which came out in 2014): Ahsoka’s Walkabout (in its original form with Nix Okami instead of the Martez sisters), the Siege of Mandalore, and an arc which would have taken place between those two, “Return to the Jedi.”  We know about these because of a panel from Star Wars Celebration Europe in 2016 called Ahsoka’s Untold Tales -- I was actually at this panel, but I haven’t thought about it in a while.  Here’s the SW.com liveblog of it; here’s the video.

I remember hearing somewhere that the TCW team had nine seasons or so written, but can’t find the source for that number now.  When S7 was made, there were obviously a lot of compromises made that we’ll never really know about, minus a tell-all memoir or documentary, which probably isn’t coming any time soon.  Knowing that this Return to the Jedi arc existed, I wondered if at one point Dave had tried to get all three Ahsoka arcs into S7 before having to give one up for the Bad Batch arc (especially as we now know there’s going to be a Bad Batch TV show); it’s also entirely possible that at one point in the production process there was the possibility of a full 22 episode season floated, which would have made three Ahsoka arcs in one season less unbalanced.

I went to go look up what the Return to the Jedi arc actually was, since 2016 was a long time ago and I haven’t really thought about this panel since.  My guess is that it had been intended for one Ahsoka arc per remaining season (7, 8, 9).  Pablo Hidalgo says that after the Walkabout arc, Ahsoka would have stayed on Coruscant as “an under-city vigilante of some degree, helping people who can’t help themselves,” and Dave points out that he talked about this with George Lucas, as well.  The Return of the Jedi arc would have involved Ahsoka finding out about a nefarious plot targeting Yoda and working with the Jedi to figure out what’s what with that -- this revealed that below the Jedi Temple was an ancient Sith shrine. (Some details of this were revealed at Star Wars Celebration Anaheim in 2015.)

Ahsoka would have been protecting the holocron vault from Darth Sidious, putting her lightsaber blade through the door while Palps shoots Force lightning up the blade.

“The whole purpose of that particular arc would have been to bring Ahsoka back. She’s not a Jedi, she doesn’t change her decision, but she gets involved in Jedi business again.”

The next Ahsoka arc and the final arc of the series would have been the Siege of Mandalore arc, which “reunites Ahsoka with the clone troopers, with Anakin.”  My guess is that the end of the Return to the Jedi arc would have involved Ahsoka making the decision to go to Mandalore because the Jedi themselves couldn’t get involved in that conflict at the time (especially the emphasis in the panel that Pablo and Dave put on Ahsoka as being “a responsible person” who couldn’t ignore that the war was still going on, and because Ahsoka knew Satine).  (It would be interesting to know when if this arc would have fallen before or after the Darth Maul - Son of Dathomir comics, which are based off another unmade TCW arc.)  This would probably have put as much as a season between this arc and the final arc -- given TCW’s funky timeline that doesn’t mean much, but in terms of audience expectation it helps.

(also, damn, the context of the beginning of Siege of Mandalore in the original concept vs. how it actually happens in S7 is very different -- like, on the surface identical but the emotions involved are totally different.)

Before going into the next part of the panel (post-war), Pablo Hidalgo adds “We consider it to have happened and that’s how we inform the writing in Rebels, because that’s the history that these characters carry in their heads.”

So going into Rebels, the writing team was working with the background that Ahsoka had not only left the Jedi Order once, in “The Wrong Jedi,” but had reinforced her decision not to go back to the Jedi by not returning to the Order during the Return to the Jedi arc.  That explains why in Rebels she’s so adamant about not being a Jedi or being in the Order; it’s a decision that she has made not once, but twice.

Fast forward four years to 2020, where we have the Siege of Mandalore arc in S7.

It’s heavily implied that Ahsoka was planning to go back to the Order after the end of the war, and in fact Yoda treats her as such.

Now, there’s no way to know if this exchange was in the original Siege of Mandalore scripts short of those being released at some point (which is possible but seems unlikely when the character is still in play), but because of the way S7 plays out there is no way to put the Return to the Jedi arc back into the story, which means all the emotional context and Ahsoka doubling down on not returning to the Order is thrown out of the window.  That’s a fair chunk of backstory to take into the Rebels writers room.

(It should also be noted that presumably E.K. Johnston wrote the Ahsoka novel with the assumption that that arc was still part of Ahsoka’s working canon, though she may not have seen scripts for it; I feel like I read somewhere that she had seen scripts for the original version of the Siege of Mandalore, which changed quite a lot between original concept and the eventual 2020 version, as is evident from the novel vs the show.)

Going into The Mandalorian, then, Dave Filoni is not only working without a writers room (as Mando has only had two writers, Dave Filoni and Jon Favreau), but working with an entirely different continuity than what the Rebels writers room was working with.

Trying to backtrack when various scripts were written is an exercise in futility to some extent; I usually guess anywhere from a year to two years out from when the shows air.  (I seem to remember that around this time in 2016 it came out that Katee Sackhoff was doing something for Disney, which ended up being the recording for Bo-Katan in Rebels S4, which wouldn’t air for another year, but don’t quote me on these dates.)  Dave ends the panel by saying that “After the season 2 finale for Rebels I was very adamant that that was it for Ahsoka...in Rebels...but after this reaction it might just be possible...it might be possible to see her again. She might have something to do. Maybe.”  (For those trying to run dates in their heads: the con was in July 2016, the season 2 finale aired in March 2016, WBW aired in February 2018.)  My guess is that they hadn’t recorded for that part of S4 yet (and S4 is so weirdly paced that I have questions about how it was made), but that the initial scripts for S4 had already been written at this point.

Looking back at the Star Wars Celebration Chicago 2019 TCW panel where Ashley Eckstein talks about getting the news about TCW S7 from Dee Bradley Baker (rather than from Dave Filoni, and hoo boy is this uncomfortable to watch knowing that the script for “The Jedi” had almost certainly been written and Dave may have already made the decision not to talk to Ashley about it), there’s still not like...a clear way to tell when that happened.  Except that Dee talks about “wine tasting with the Rebels,” which likely puts it back when Rebels S4 was either still actively airing (2017-2018) or before it had wrapped filming (2017).  (I actually vaguely remember seeing pictures from this wine tasting but I can’t remember whose twitter it was on and going to look feels creepy.)  Probably the scripts weren’t fully revised at that point but they may have been -- still, this was certainly after S2 and could potentially be before S4 had been fully finalized.  We got the TCW renewal announcement in 2019, but the animation wasn’t fully completed yet so didn’t get more than that teaser trailer.  This is only important insofar as it involves which set of backstory was being used for WBW Ahsoka, an episode that Dave Filoni wrote and co-directed.  (Honestly? I think Mando Ahsoka matches okay with WBW Ahsoka but is a little off Rebels S2 Ahsoka, but that’s off my memory of WBW, an episode I refuse to rewatch.)  Certainly with the epilogue he knew he was setting up for something else.

ETA: I FORGOT AN IMPORTANT PART OF THIS TIMELINE AND THAT’S THE RISE OF SKYWALKER because I try not to think about TROS, frankly, but as we may remember Ahsoka is included in the “be with me” scene in the final confrontation.  This always struck me as weird given the “I am no Jedi” thing from Rebels, but she’s the most well-known female Force-user so I had just mentally written it off as easy shorthand and JJ Abrams being lazy about it. HOWEVER, presumably JJ talked to Dave about which prequel era Jedi to include (there’s a note in one of the previous SWC liveblogs about Rian Johnson being in the Rebels writers room at some point).  TROS came out in December 2019, I can’t recall exactly when they did the voiceovers for that scene (if anyone has ever mentioned it), but it was probably fairly late in the process since I believe that there were still edits being made up until fairly soon before the premiere.  (I have a completely different theory that the Lego Star Wars Holiday Special from this year was written off an earlier version of TROS.)  If Dave had already moved towards making Ahsoka more inclined towards the Jedi, with a full-on return to calling herself one regardless of the existence of the Order (as Mando implies), then her inclusion here makes a LOT more sense than it did a year ago.

Anyway this is all very conspiracy theorist, but it does explain something that was puzzling me: Rebels S2 Ahsoka and Mando Ahsoka (as well as TCW S7 Ahsoka and potentially Rebels S4 Ahsoka) were written off slightly different backstories which differed in one very key thing: how committed Ahsoka was to no longer being a Jedi.

Now, this sort of thing happens all the time in anything with an ongoing continuity; obviously TCW makes major changes to how viewers might read or write Obi-Wan and Anakin/Vader in RotS or the OT.  I was just trying to narrow it down in this particular case because until I started thinking about it I had assumed that it was all being written off the same assumed backstory. And many people read Ahsoka differently in Mando than I did or found her perfectly in character, this was for me to track references down about something that was bothering me in hopes of an explanation that would satisfy me.

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 9: House of Bangtan

“That won’t be necessary,” you immediately said.

Hoseok shook his head while smiling. “I think it’s about time we get to know each other. Or what do you think, Jimin?”

Jimin stood next to Taehyung, chatting quietly when he turned around. “Did we really buy enough food for all of us?” he asked hesitantly.

“We bought the amount we usually do,” answered Hoseok. “And I seriously doubt she eats more than Jungkook.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak but Hoseok stopped him. “You don’t get to say anything,” he interjected. “What do you think Jungkook would say or do if he saw the way you treated (Y/N)?”

“Nothing. She doesn’t even like us,” said Taehyung stiffly. “He told me she refuses to go to the concerts or support him. She wouldn’t even congratulate him on our first win.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but raise your voice. “He has never invited me. I only came yesterday because my best friend had a ticket available. Jungkook even explicitly told me several times that he didn’t want me to come.”

“I sense a liar.”

“Taehyung,” said Hoseok before you could respond. “I know you’re hungry, but let’s stop with the accusations. There must be a reason why you two disagree. Let’s just invite (Y/N) on dinner so we can talk about it and get to know who exactly Jungkook’s mysterious family friend is. You can get to rummage through his wardrobe as well,” he told you.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I have to get back to the hospital,” you lied. Okay, not completely since you had no idea what terror Jungkook might had spread among the hospital staff so far. But the first part was untrue. You were definitely not up for eating with six strangers, of which at least one was furious at you. “I only need his clothes.”

But then you got an idea. They had lived with Jungkook for the last couple of years, meaning they would know a lot more about him than anyone else, maybe even his parents. Perhaps a dinner wasn’t the worst way to get more information that might help you restore Jungkook’s memories.

Perhaps befriending the Bangtan Boys would benefit all.

“Besides,” you added shyly with this new plan unfurling in your mind. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please,” said Hoseok with a soft snort. “I wouldn’t invite you if I thought you would be intruding. Everyone has been curious about you and Jungkook ever since we first heard of you… what, five or so years ago? But I understand if you need to get back to the hospital.”

You checked your phone and pretended to contemplate whether you could stay or not. Jungkook would survive an additional hour or so. “I mean, I told Jungkook I would be back by six. School ended a bit earlier than I expected though, so I do technically have some time to spare...”

“Then you’ll eat. We bought too much food anyways.” He held out his hand. “I’m Jung Hoseok - J-Hope on stage.”

You shook it. “(Y/F/N).”

“I know.” He grinned.

Hoseok released your hand and walked toward the elevator doors. Taehyung pushed the button calling for the elevator, ignoring you as you approached the three guys.

“Park Jimin, but mostly just Jimin.”

After returning the grocery bags to Hoseok, Jimin held out his hand. You shook it also and repeated your name, then glanced at Taehyung. Jimin and Hoseok communicated wordlessly through their eyes when Taehyung refused to greet you.

“That’s Kim Taehyung,” said Jimin finally as he turned his focus back toward you.

“Don’t mind him,” said Hoseok. “He’s behaving irrationally, but only because he cares for Jungkook. He’s not a bad person.”

You nodded. It wasn’t as if you didn’t understand the guy. In fact, he was behaving much better than you would have should the roles have been reversed.

The elevator doors slid open and the four of you entered. Taehyung pressed the button for the ninth floor and the doors closed. He stood as far away from you as he could as the elevator took you up.

“So, (Y/N), how long have you known Jungkook?”

“Probably from the time I was born, since he was out in the world before me,” you told Hoseok. “What about you?”

“Since he was fourteen or fifteen,” he replied, then assumed a teasing expression. “He was shorter even than Jimin is now at the time he came to us.”

“Hey!” Jimin glared at Hoseok. “I have grown, too!”

“You have? I haven’t noticed.”

Jimin looked as if though he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself when he noticed you looking at him. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“He still doesn’t remember us, right?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you said, feeling responsible for the hurt in his voice, then guilty when he glanced at you with hope in his eyes. You should have formulated yourself better. “...in the way that he might have miraculously regained his memories during the day. But the situation seemed unchanging this morning.”

Jimin merely nodded and looked away again.

“But I do have news that I would like all of you to hear,” you said, suddenly realizing you held a piece of information they most likely didn’t know. “I don’t know if Sejin has updated you on the situation but, there is still something we can do in order to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

The elevator came to a slow stop and its doors glided open on the ninth floor. Yet none of the people in the small space moved, including you.

“What?”

Taehyung frowned at you. Hoseok and Jimin stared at you.

“There’s a way to restore him,” you clarified. “Jungkook might still be able to perform with you in Japan.”

“That’s not important,” said Taehyung.

“Who cares about that,” agreed Hoseok. “Are you absolutely certain, (Y/N)? Is there a way to return him his memories?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile as you stopped the elevator door from closing. “I would like to explain it to all of you, if it’s possible. Are the three remaining members at home?”

“I would think so,” said Jimin. “Or did Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung say they were going to the studio?”

“Not what I remember,” said Hoseok. “Namjoon is supposed to help Jin-hyung with dinner today. And Yoongi-hyung is probably asleep as usual the day after a concert.”

“Let’s hurry then,” said Taehyung and was first out of the elevator.

You followed them into their apartment. Now, you hadn’t expected a home of seven dudes to be the cleanest in the world, but this was far beneath your usual standard. What had probably been equipped to handle a family of four or perhaps five, had turned into a home for seven bachelors, to be frank. You could only imagine how often they ordered Chinese food or fought for dominion over the two bathrooms you spotted on each end of the slim hallway running through the apartment.

Taehyung was quickest out of his sneakers and hurried down the hallway, with Hoseok following closely behind. “Hello? Is everyone home?”

“We’re back!” Hoseok called cheerily. “And we have a guest!”

You tried not to stare at the floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with shoes and various beauty products that completely covered the eastern wall of the hallway. They were lucky no earthquakes occurred on the regular in Korea.

“‘A guest’?” came the muffled response, probably from behind a door.

“It’s a girl!” answered Jimin.

You tentatively zipped out of your boots, but kept your jacket on and the duffel bag still in your hand. Jimin had to unlace his shoes and leaned into the wall as to let you pass. You padded down the hallway, which opened up into a small dining room adjacent to a living room that was more like a storage room. Or actually, everywhere seemed to be the storage room. There were clothes and accessories and random items literally everywhere you looked. You weren’t a cleaning saint, but living even a week there would have driven you mad due to the disarray.

You didn’t know if that’s what made the apartment look much smaller than you initially had anticipated. Though homey, it felt cramped. Unorganized.

Frankly, it was a complete mess.

Around the corner of the hallway, almost like in a slim but deep alcove, was the kitchen. The mat-white glass separators had been pushed aside, allowing Hoseok to walk to and from the dining table where he and Taehyung had placed their grocery bags. He gradually filled the fridge and the tiny cupboards with their buys and smiled at you as he passed. “Anything to drink?”

You shook your head.

“Not even water?”

“No, thank you.”

“Have a seat,” he told you. “The others are probably getting dressed.”

You frowned, but his gaze was too knowing and his smile a bit too teasing for you to ask what he had meant by that. Taehyung stood alone by the small dining table, tapping impatiently with his fingers on one of the chairs as he looked from one closed door to another. He ignored you again, but his eyes narrowed when you chose a chair to sit on.

“Er,” you tried, knowing you and your parents had untold, designated places around your rarely used dining table. “Is this your seat?”

“That’s Jungkook’s.”

Great. If there was any kind of Jungkook-related gambling game out in the world, you would be its grandmaster.

Before you could come up with an adequate reply, however, one of the bedroom doors opened, revealing Rap Monster - or rather, Kim Namjoon - and Kim Seokjin, stage name Jin. Both looked as if though they had gotten dressed in a hurry: the tag to Namjoon’s shirt protruded from his neck and one leg was shorter than the other on Seokjin’s jeans.

Taehyung frowned at them as they exited. “You don’t usually hang out in hyung’s room,” he stated, nudging his head toward Namjoon to signify whose room it was.

“We were discussing whose socks these are,” said Namjoon as he held up something white. His eyes found yours and rounded in surprise.

“We figured they were Jungkook’s,” added Seokjin and nodded, also looking at you instead of Taehyung. “Besides, he is sleeping in our room.”

“Not anymore, I’m not.”

Jimin and the last remaining member of BTS emerged from the obscurity of the hallway. Suga, whose real name you had learned was Min Yoongi, regarded you with the same expressionless eyes he had when you first had met. His voice was low like Taehyung's, but whereas the latter’s voice was breathy and admittedly felt like soft, warm velvet, Min Yoongi’s voice was raspy, hollow almost.

“Well then, we’ve all gathered.” Hoseok crumbled up the plastic bags with one hand and gestured toward you with the other. “Guys, this is (Y/F/N). She has some news we all need to hear regarding Jungkook.”

“Hoseok-hyung also invited her on dinner,” said Taehyung sternly.

“Which she agreed to stay on,” said Jimin.

“Er, alright.” Namjoon approached you as he tossed the socks sideways behind him. He held out his hand. “I’m Kim Namjoon,” he greeted.

Seokjin stepped forward after you had shaken hands with Namjoon. “Kim Seokjin,” he said as you took his hand. “I hope you like your ddukbokki extra spicy - Kim Namjoon doesn’t know when to stop seasoning. And did you finally buy the right kind of gimbab, Hoseok?”

“Of course,” replied Hoseok. “Everything’s on the counter, it’s just for you two to start cooking.”

“We should take care of (Y/N)’s business first.”

Min Yoongi didn’t offer you his hand. You tried not to think about what that meant, but since Taehyung had disregarded introducing himself to you as well, you had an idea. Yoongi went past you, took a chair and gestured for everyone to do the same.

You did your best to avoid Taehyung’s face as you sank down on what you now knew was Jungkook’s usual seat. You moved to scratch your arm when you realized you were still wearing your jacket. It was fortunately warm inside their apartment - the floor heat soothing your usually cold feet - but rapidly getting a bit too hot for comfort inside your winter jacket. Still, it felt odd to spare a moment to shrug it off when the topic you would touch on was so urgent.

“So…” you began in a quiet tone. Their attention felt like bright spotlights on you and you fidgeted nervously in the chair. “There might be a way to restore Jungkook’s memories.”

[bibliocratic]

tim and jon

part of a series of archive polycule oneshots (minor cws and mentions in the tags - ask if you would like anything added. these cws are explained in more detail in the ANs on A03)

“Would you hurry up?” Jon hisses at him, his eyes scattering skittishly to dart and interrogate every night-echoed noise. His expression is bow-strung and embroiled in a hundred outcomes where they get caught, and he furiously shakes his head when Tim indicates through rough and basic mime the next stage of this impeccably-organised plan. There is a flurry of disagreement about who gets to take the starring role in the next part, performed entirely through gestures and whispers before Jon, snapping a ‘fine, fine’, takes the leg-up Tim’s offering. There’s a medley of ‘shit’ and ‘woahwoahwoah’ as both of them adjust to balance and Jon clings to the wall for a moment, psyching himself up prior to shimmying his lanky body worm-like through the open letterbox-shaped window.

There is a clattering, a worrying thump. Tim winces, and cautiously calls out “Boss?” as loud as he dares.

He gets a seething cats-hiss of “Keep it down!” so he presumes Jon’s not too badly damaged.

A minute or so later, Jon is opening the lock from the inside to let Tim into the building. His jumper is rumpled, his hair and face caked with dust like a talc bottle’s gone off in his face.

“Bit grubby there,” Tim grins. Jon gives him a look that promises untold violence and an unmarked grave if he doesn’t behave himself. Tim mimes zipping his lips shut before passing Jon the spare torch.

Despite Jon’s protestations, this outing was his idea. The security tapes and records are in here somewhere, the owner was cagey enough that it’s practically a given, and if they can use them to prove a case of a possible active entity, well, a little sneaking around can’t hurt. Jon had avoided calling it exactly what it was (‘It’s just some looking around’ / ‘It’s trespassing, boss’ / ‘It’s harmless, we’ll be in and out, we’re not really stealing anything valuable’ / ‘It’s breaking and entering and trespassing on private property’) so much so that Tim had laughed, declared it a case of Schrödinger’s illegal and told Jon he’d buy them both some gloves for their night-time ‘looking around’.

Moving further into the property, the flashlights they’ve brought arc with echoes of illumination a split second slow, like the dragging light of a Bonfire sparkler, eventually casting over to a metallic-walled office tucked off to the side. This place looks like a pre-fab, out on an industrial estate somewhere, and from contents inside, has spent the last few years being a motorcycle showroom. Gleaming structures are displayed proudly and buffed to shining in lines, the large open-plan room interspersed with load-bearing pillars. Off near the end, there’s the accessories part of the space, with metal shelving and stands and racks where helmets and gloves and leathers are clustered.

The office is locked.  Jon wordlessly pushes the torch over to Tim, who holds both it and his own pointed at the lock, and pulls out a black rectangular carry case. Kneeling down, he unzips it with a quiet tug, revealing its contents as an honest-to-god lockpicking kit.

“Are you serious?” Tim expels in a high breath, his mouth curved high in delight.

“Childhood hobby,” is the only thing Jon will say, and any further questions are refuted with a ‘I am trying to concentrate’ or a stone-wall silence. Tim files all a hundred and one of his follow-up questions for a later time. He’s half tempted to snap a photo for Sasha, but then remembers with a guilty jolt that that would probably be a bad idea if anyone catches them.

The office is no better than their archives, and Jon is visibly disappointed at the lack of an easy job. Stowing away his kit back into his pockets, they settle into a routine after a few muttered back-and-forth suggestions. Tim takes the paper-drowned desk, the stuffed layers of the in-tray and the desk drawers, while Jon braves the rattling filing cabinets taller than he is.

For the most part, they work in silence, which means it’s a surprise when, after a few moments rifling, Jon says in a painfully faux-casual way:

“So. You and um. You and Martin.”

“Hmm?” Tim replies. His eyes flick over several receipts, a few carbon-copies of CBT papers and full licenses.  He tries to separate some, only to find that they’ve started to stick together, and he sighs with irritation.

Jon remains quiet. Tim turns to look at him, and he’s still got his hands in the stomach of the highest and dustiest filing cabinet, obviously no longer looking with the entirety of his attention but still trying to keep up the charade.

“Was there a point you wanted to make, or…?”

Jon pulls his hands out and swings his face around, and Tim can’t read his expression.

“At the… At the Institute party. You seemed… close.”

No closer than usual, Tim had thought. Martin’s efforts hadn’t been enough to completely vanish his anxieties over the socialisation. He’d stuck close to the other three all night, tugging at his new jacket at intervals, running his fingers over the fabric to settle himself. He’d avoided the alcohol entirely, and had picked at the snack foods. Tim had been as free with his affections with Sasha as usual, casual touches to her hip, the small of her back, calling her ‘babe’ and ‘love’. Sasha had pressed a kiss to Jon’s cheek and dragged him over by the hand to their merry band when he’d arrived later than the rest of them. Tim and Martin hadn’t touched because Martin had confessed earlier that he’d prefer if they didn’t, not in this setting, not where other people could see or comment or judge, and so Tim respected that and kept his distance. Apart from once, when they were sat off to the side on plastic-backed chairs pulled out of some store cupboard somewhere, unnoticed by anyone else. Sasha had been drawn into conversation with Rosie about something political, and Jon had been extricating himself from talking to Elias after being summoned over to meet a few of their investors, and Martin had nudged Tim’s hand with the back of his own and murmured ‘Thanks. For, um, convincing me to come’ and then he’d glanced around before leaning in and kissing him demurely before moving back, his cheeks clawed with pink.  Tim had felt a bit like a firecracker going off.

“You’re a bit late for any juicy office gossip,” Tim replies slowly, uncertain of where this conversation is going. “I mean, it’s not a new development.”

Perhaps Jon had seen him and Martin, although it wasn’t a crime, what they did, wasn’t inappropriate for work. He’d assumed Sasha would have told him, on the nights when Jon stayed at hers. Martin doesn’t tell anyone about them, but Martin doesn’t tell anyone about a lot of things, and they’ve spoken about his insecurities and fears both unfounded and painfully historical. Tim doesn’t mind Martin’s reticence, doesn’t mind the slow-building thing between them. Martin pretends not to smile at his jokes and beats him at Mario Kart every time and oversalts his chips and undercooks his eggs and finishes Tim’s onion bhajis when he’s ordered too much and scolds him for forgetting about the bins again and has started to kiss him for the first time like this isn’t something he’s going to lose. Martin hasn’t said he loves him, and that’s alright. Tim’s pretty sure he’s been gone for Martin for months now.

“Does he know?”

Jon’s follow-up is flint-strike, whiplash-corded. He’s set his jaw and his mouth in a tight line that looks like a wound in the unsettled torchlight.

“What do you mean?” Tim asks nonplussed, and if anything, Jon winches his body tighter and says, almost impatiently.

“Does Martin know about Sasha?”

“What about her?”

“About you and Sasha?”

“I mean… yes?”

“And does Sasha know about you and Martin?”

“Have you talked to her about this?”

“Well, no. I wanted to ask you first.”

Comprehension rocks him tidal with a sudden drenching wave.

“Christ, Jon!” Tim hisses out, and Jon gestures him to be quieter and it’s only with real effort that he manages: “Of course she knows. They both know about each other – I’m not a complete bastard!”

“I didn’t say that!” Jon counters defensive. A coil of embarrassment has begun to wind its way through his tone.

“Is that what you think? That I’ve, what, started seeing Martin on the side and just… what, haven’t told Sasha about it? That you’ve uncovered some sort of sordid little office scandal? The fuck, Jon!”

“Keep your voice down!”

“You’re the one who wanted to have this conversation right now,” Tim snaps back.

“I – ” Jon huffs, irritated with himself. The torchlight makes his expression stretch, take on more weight. “That wasn’t what I meant, and I didn’t intend it to come across that way.”

“What way did you intend it to come across then?”

“It – it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it sounded a lot like you were a second away from accusing me of cheating on either one or both of them, so no, actually, I do want you to give me an explanation. Like, right now…. Is this some jealousy thing, with Sasha?”

“What? No! No, Sasha can, Sasha can date who she likes. It doesn’t bother me that you two are together as well.”

“So, what, Jon? What’s the problem?”

“I…” Jon makes an aggrieved noise. “I’m not explaining myself well.”

“You can say that again.”

Jon breathes hard. He fiddles with his fingers and Tim waits, making Jon be the one to speak first. Because for all Jon’s protesting that he didn’t mean it like that, Tim’s hurt,  slighted by the idea that Jon might think that of him, might read callousness or deception into his actions so easily.

“I don’t think that of you,” Jon says eventually. “I know – you wouldn’t hurt Sasha and you wouldn’t hurt Martin. I didn’t think you were cheating. I just… I didn’t know that you and Martin… I thought that you and Sasha, not that you were exclusive, but that … and then I saw you with Martin and I wanted to make sure, because I don’t… so, I get that Sasha, she likes you and she likes me and that’s – I get that. But I don’t understand how you – what, you were with Sasha, and then you just… what, started dating Martin? How does that work? How are you with one person, and then you meet another and then you want to be with them as well?”

Tim does not have time to teach Jon Polyamory 101, considering they’re in the middle of something that, pretty euphemisms aside, is definitely a crime. If Jon was better at communicating, this was something he might have been able to broach with Sasha, or with Tim at literally any time other than right now.

Jon’s intensity is misplaced. He’s always been good at that, reflecting the inward out to something he feels he can tackle. Tim privately thinks that Jon’s had these little boxes in his head of what he understands poly to be, and that Martin’s involvement has jostled them out of alignment. That Jon might not be as monogamous as he’s previously considered himself to be and is having to work through all the baggage which comes with personal growth.

Tim’s seen the way Jon looks at Martin when he thinks no-one is looking.

“Jon,” he says, and he does well to strip the irritation from his voice. “Me and Sasha, we talked about it, early on when we first started seeing each other. About the whole exclusive thing. And like adults, we came to the agreement that we were happy for the other person to be in a different relationship if they felt drawn to be so, as long as all parties were informed and consented to the arrangements. And then, this thing with Martin came along… and I told Sasha about it, and she suggested I try seeing if he’d be interested. And luckily, you know, he was, and the three of us have talked about the logistics of it all, and it’s working out. I’m not sure what you’re finding difficult to understand.”

“So… Sasha and Martin are together too?”

“Nah. They’re, um – how did they put it… ‘incompatible in a few key areas’. But they love each other in their own way, and they’re happy, and that’s all there is to it.”

Jon ruminates on this for a bit before he seems to mentally prepare himself for another question.

“And how did you feel, when Sasha started seeing me?”

“Er. Fine. Questioned her taste in men a bit, but…” Jon’s face is a picture at that moment. “I’m joking! I was fine about it. Is… is that was this is about?”

“It’s… not exactly…” Jon looks at the dust on his shoes, rubs at a grubby spot on his face that he’d missed with his sleeve. “When she told you that she wanted to see me, it didn’t… it didn’t make you feel, I don’t know, hurt? That you weren’t enough for her?”

Tim loves Jon dearly but god, he can be an idiot.

“It doesn’t work like - Look. You’re not – it’s not about one person being ‘enough’, yeah? It’s not a finite resource, kay, people can love their friends and pets and family and partners and it’s not… it’s not going to run out or anything daft like that. When Sasha started seeing you, and going to pub quizzes with you, or when she’d be at mine one night and then she’d leave in the morning to go on one of your museum jaunts or whatever…. You being there didn’t reduce how she felt about me, or make our relationship any less meaningful. And when you’re with Sasha, you don’t feel she cares about you less because I’m in the picture, right?”

“No.”

“Exactly. She loves you differently, not less. And the same when me and Martin got together.”

“I… I understand,” Jon says slowly.

“Then, what about this is bothering you exactly?” Tim says, and his voice has quietened now.

“Sasha wouldn’t feel… hurt. If I wanted to, um, hypothetically see someone else. She wouldn’t think that I – I wasn’t happy, or that I wanted more than what we had together, or that she wasn’t… enough for me. And if I did see someone else, they wouldn’t feel like I was, I dunno, messing them around?”

“Jon,” Tim says. “I think this is a conversation you should really be having with our girlfriend, yeah? But… personally, I wouldn’t worry. Wanting to date another person isn’t bad. You just need to be honest and communicate.”

There is a long pause.

“Thanks, Tim.” Jon looks tired, mulling over things, but his face is plastered over with something like relief compared to his earlier tension. “I do – er. I do appreciate you. Talking to me about… about all this.”

“Don’t get soft on me, boss,” Tim says, and he gives Jon a wink. A deliberate gesture that says ‘it’s alright’. “I know I’m a delight to be around.”

Jon relaxes and his expression flint-sparks into a small smirk.

“Whatever Sasha and Martin have been telling you, you’re absolutely not that charming.”

“Please. I’m a catch. Irresistible.”

“I seem to be immune.”

“You sure about that?” Tim teases and Jon rolls his eyes and gives him a put-on look-over.

“You aren’t my type.”

“It’d be different then, if I was, say, a winsome-looking redhead?” Tim says. “If I looked like I’d fallen backwards into a tragically retro clothes shop. Would that, perhaps, be a little bit more your type, boss?”

It’s too dark to see if Jon’s complexion has flared with embarrassment.

“Where are you going with this, Tim?”

“Nowhere!” Tim sing-songs and turns his attention back to the desk. One of the drawers is stuck and he yanks at it before it opens with a complaining screech. “Nowhere at all.”

Jon doesn’t respond. For a few moments, they sink back into their search.

“He’s seemed happier recently,” Jon says after five minutes or so. “You’re good for him.”

“You could be too,” Tim says.

“Well. Ahem.” Jon has definitely gone a different colour at that thought.

And then his face hardens. He clicks off the torch sharply, and he's yanking Tim forwards by the arm, tugged him next to him into the cramped space next to one of the filing cabinets. Tim would have yelped, but Jon gives a sharp 'shhh', and grabs at Tim's torch to press it off as he pulls them both down crouching. For a moment, there's nothing but breathing, Tim trying to ask Jon what's wrong with his limited movement and Jon equally communicating that he needs to shut up immediately.

Then Tim hears the noises outside.

He thought they'd have more time. The doors to the office and the main building aren't locked, and they won't be able to get out now, not without facing whatever is out there that the statement giver warned them about.

"What'll we do, boss?" he whispers to Jon, the words threaded onto one breath.

"Plan B?" Jon suggests. He passes his torch to Tim, and goes for the inside of his bag again, bringing out the items Tim had argued repeatedly for bringing and Jon had repeatedly shot down.

Tim grins despite himself.

"Plan B," he affirms, and helps Jon light the firework.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Three

Chapter Three: I Hear Her Voice in the Mornin' Hour

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Shepard," the cold voice greeted her, the mechanic gravel unneeding of the visive tone, "or is it the fragment of your former self?"

Jane's head craned slowly, letting her eyes rake over the colossal figure of the derelict Reaper that sat before her. Should she be trembling? Why was she trembling?

"Brave words, for a dead roach," she murmured, wavering in her conviction.

"Your victory accomplished our end goal; your struggle was in vain."

Jane looked away from the synthetic, training her vision on the open sky above her. Lifting a hand above her face to shield it from the afternoon sun. The Citadel was a stark presence in the sky. It was a thing of awe. Now it was a wreck. While four of the arms remained, it wasn't without severe damage to the remaining limbs. The bright center of civilization flickered, struggling to sustain itself after the attacks that likely left millions dead. With the detonation she caused.

"Was the price to defeat your salvation truly worth it? You may think your species achieved enlightenment, but will it last to see those vain promises through?" The Reaper grew louder, a hint of yellow reflecting across the glass-like surface of the optic lenses, "In your hubris, you have destroyed everything that kept your species together! Witness the Citadel! How many died for nothing? How many more will die from starvation? Disease? Eachother? Will you watch your peace crumble?"

Trying to block out the voice, she focused on the rations half-eaten in front of her. Another task she no longer took pleasure from, another waste. Feeling this heaviness was quickly becoming unbearable; she was a beacon for passion and fire. A goddamned, fucking hero. One with a will that ignited others, not a tired soldier that snuck away to avoid eating a full meal. Not someone questioning why they remained. The goddamned bit was right, at least, there was no luck here. Just beating after beating.

She was so alone.

Where were her friends? How long would she have to wait? After all they had been through, wouldn't they at least attempt to find her? She wasn't far from where she had made them leave her behind. Already, she had been back to the beacon several times over the fortnight since the LT had conscripted her into this ragtag community.

She needed the Normandy crew. Her mind whispered horrible things. Taunted and dogged her in each agonizing moment of calm. All she held was death, screaming, the weight of all the choices she made. Her soft place was nowhere to be found.

"This legacy you attempted will end in the spoiling of your name. Villanhood only matched by the word 'Reaper,'" The machine was rarely silent long, it was content to keep speaking filling the silence that Jane left, "a Shepard only heralding death and destruction, because your weakness was what you thought strength. Overconfidence always leads to downfall."

In a simmer of sudden rage, Jane gathered energy into herself, merging the familiar burn and tingle of dark matter and letting it stir just beneath the surface of her skin, pleasure, fury, and a twinge of pain. Just the way it should be. It released in a single burst.

"Pathetic."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Recruit caught herself before she toppled ass over tea kettle, fists grinding into the ground before her to stabilize. Her signature move from cocky grin to a deadened expression had yet to sit right with him, but as he was learning about his woman, forcing an issue wasn't going to move it aside any quicker. Reflexively adverting his gaze to allow her pride the room to readjust and soothe her attitude. Most in his company did not understand his patience with the newest recruit, but they couldn't empathize with the bittersweet familiarity it welled up inside his heart.

With any luck, he could one day reiterate to his son how proud he was of him.

"LT," the woman chirped, a hint of a smile crawling up the side of her mouth.

"Recruit," the old man was looser with his smile. With an admonishing raise of an eyebrow, he drew a finger across her philtrum, "I see you've met our lawn gnome. Still haven't named him yet."

Jane's eyes rolled and a smile she could not fight spread across her features, "Harbinger," but the utterance came out with surprising severity.

"I'd have gone with Harold, Pookie even," he mumbled, dragging a handkerchief across the underside of her nose.

Just as quickly the moment was gone, she pulled away from him. A token of gratitude left in the form of a gentle smile, "did you come out here to bother me, or did you need something?"

This was the prickly personality he didn't care for as fondly. Requiring a brief moment to placate a moment of hasty rebuke, his gaze moved to the half-empty can and the lid that lay a few meters downwind—twice ignoring the blood that peppered the ground beneath her seat. Perhaps he didn't have the patience to baby another mouthy soldier, and she seemed content to throw herself away. But in the same vein, he had regretted doing that years ago with his own child. Sure, this woman was a stranger, but she belonged to someone that worried about her. His innate integrity could hold him out a bit longer.

"You know, we don't have enough supplies to be wasting it," Roy found something to vent the heat building inside.

Jane's bright blue eyes that reflected the setting sun snapped to the can, a wince revealing the words did strike something, "you eat it then. I've been watching you pawn off your rations."

He accepted the can, plopping a hearty portion into his mouth, "still tastes like shit."

"I could really go for some steak fries and chutney," Jane mused gently.

"I'm thinking I could make that happen."

The woman's full attention turned to him, the fine fuzz of her returning eyebrows raised at him.

"Give or take a few weeks."

"I'm assuming you have a plan?"

"Yeah," the man paused, testing out the recruit, the hold on her patience proving to outlast him for the first time, "I'm hoping to test out your skills. And you need to start earning your keep."

"Ready and willing, sir!" She snapped to attention, a foreign energy oozing from her at this moment. Not that he doubted her willingness to come along, he was just surprised to see her motivated to do something.

"Hold your horses, Recruit. You may not be so excited when you find out what we are doing," not that he had much doubt about her grit, "it should be a standard supply run. With a large Krogan exception."

"Krogan, sir?"

He nodded, "before this mess all started, I had a small orchard; I knew a guy from London that shared the hobby. He was more into plants in general, but anyway, I couldn't recall his exact address but knew about the general area his warehouse was located. It should be a rapidly growing, resistant crop. The problem is the Krogan found it first."

"Are we trying diplomacy or just rushing in?"

"I want to try the former, the ladder only if things go south. Some big wig Clan Urgnut-"

"Urdnot."

Roy cleared his throat, that did sound right, "Urdnot was holed up there. Smart move on their part. But they don't have a protected area with access to sufficient sunlight to grow anything, and more importantly...hopefully, they aren't likely to know how to grow the crop."

"You're hoping to grow it within the atrium?" it seemed the recruit was astute enough to guess at the plan without it needing to be spelled out, "trading access for food and maybe protection?"

"If we are lucky."

He had already began to act hopefully, ordering the healthy refugees under guard to start collecting and tagging soil for growing crops. They had some luck, even if it meant desecrating the dead's gardens. The corporate offices he felt less guilty about robbing them of soil.

Finding power had been an easier ordeal; military generators were easily plugged into the grid to power the essentials like heat and some lighting. Water filters were easily found, and London's preference toward rain lent them an easy water source. They weren't foolish enough to rely on a regular storm pattern and already had begun to build a reserve of water. Communication was an entirely separate issue- they needed to find an engineer and fast. Or rely on another splinter group to fulfill that gap. On the subject of protection, he didn't want to let on how direly he needed the talks to go peacefully. Once word got around that they could produce food, the untold number of refugees and nefarious forces pounding on their doors would create unfathomable problems.

But all this conjecture was counting chickens before the eggs hatched.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane kept her assignment besides the Lieutenant with minimal complaint. They couldn't know that keeping watching along occupied territory was old news to her. While she was used to point, settling into the left flank was quickly done.

It was nice not being the center of attention, without the burden of anyone looking to her for guidance. Without the worry of making a wrong call, she could let down some of the instinctual guard associated with the position of leader. Luckily a hard call wasn't required for this part of the journey, the few-kilometer trip went by without incident.

"LT," she pressed once the first evidence of a perimeter came into view, "have you ever met a Krogan before?"

The male on her right smirked, rolling his eyes. Roy stopped, pulling a deep breath. Some of his stoic calm wearing at the edges. Jane knew this wasn't because of her, she had yet to do anything that would constitute annoying the man. He was nervous.

"No, but how different can they be?"

The man chuckled, "I heard they're almost mindless brutes."

Jane threw him a sharp glare, "they're the rough and tumble type, but not mindless. I'd suggest reminding him of home."

She could guarantee cooperation if Shepard wanted to come out. Shepard liked to remain locked away anymore.

While the man to her right heavily rolled his eyes, Roy seemed to take it under consideration. His gaze flickered back to the path before them, hesitation now more detectable in his manner.

"Maybe you-"

Roy's voice stopped with the interruptions of Jane's pistols suddenly unfurling to full length.

"Don't stop," a gruff Krogan voice called, "I'm looking for a fight."

A second voice was a little more reasonable, "what is your business? This is Krogan territory."

"Human territory," the man retorted with surprising gusto, "you overfeed iguana."

For his bravery, the man collided with the road the third but silent Krogan finding the insult not to his liking. The first Krogan spurred on by his comrade shoved Roy aside, the older man spun without resistance to the ground, "humans are so soft."

Jane was purely lucky that the more tolerable Krogan was nearest to her. It didn't make her less angry. Yes, pushing over the douche of a specimen was permitted but bringing the old man into it? She expected better of Clan Urdnot. Pissed off, the female stormed for the offending Krogan.

Now, she wasn't foolish enough to go in guns blazing, but she knew a better way to deal with the offending reptile. According to Zaeed the spot she had to hit corresponded with a weak spot on the species' frontal plate. If she had a knife and the gall to do so, she could rip that piece off and cause the Krogan to panic. But on the less violent and more in line with the peacekeeping mission she had a superior move: simple, elegant, and a returning item on her personal bucket list.

Headbutting another Krogan.

In retaliation, he glowed blue.

It never came to fruition as the reasonable member stepped between them, "you have offended her krant. Let it go." But his smirk didn't go unnoticed, "what do you want?"

"We're here to speak with Wrex."

The Krogan chuckled, "you have an impressive quad. But I don't think the clan leader is interested in what you have to say."

"You really want to test that? Would we really be here if wasn't important," Shepard's fire returned, "what other reason would we have to seek out the Krogan?  Certainly not for the fight." She motioned toward the two with her.

The Krogan gave an exasperated sigh, "fine, but only one of you. The other two wait."

Jane pivoted and proffered an open hand to the LT, "this is your ball game, sir. Do us proud."

[westallenfun]

Two's Company (1/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas). 

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend, Barry Allen, but grapples with revealing her true feelings, for fear of completely ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, with romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may in fact force both Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths. 

Rated: T (Warnings: Mild language)

Perhaps the most notable visual extravagance at wedding receptions is the abundance of balloons, flowers, and the chiffon backdrops, draped like curtains, framing the table whereon sat the wedding cake. 

Iris is already trying to determine how she might steal away a few balloons, because really, nobody would miss them, and she had, after all, been the one sitting with the wedding planner for days on end, painstakingly selecting a theme for the reception and agonizing over every detail. Surely, after all her efforts, a few balloons going missing at the end of the party would be forgiven, if not unnoticeable. And she would be surreptitious about it too, seeing as how she would wait until the final guests, likely pleasantly drunk on champagne, rosé, and Prosecco, stumbled their way out of the Central City Gold Hotel. 

            “Nice work, West.” Iris looks up to see her heavily pregnant sister-in-law take a seat next to her, while cradling a rather magnificent sundae in her hands, spoon hanging precariously atop the hazelnut fudge.

            “Thanks, but don’t you call my brother ‘West?’ Could get confusing,” Iris says, raising one eyebrow. 

            “Yeah, but I’m married to Wally. Have been for three years. And so, it doesn’t have the same effect with him anymore. That’s the troublesome thing about marriage.” 

            “Classic Linda Park logic,” Iris murmurs, before once again focusing on the balloons. They are all the same shade of ivory, which made them particularly functional. For gift-giving purposes, that is. Gift-giving, Iris knows, is all about the presentation.

            “No, but seriously, Iris. I’m impressed. Joe and Cecile deserve the best, and this is, honestly, the best.”

            “Thanks, Linda. Dad deserves a perfect wedding day. As does Cecile. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to come together as beautifully as it did, but I’m still praying we see this thing to the end without any hiccups. We’ve got…” Iris taps the screen of her phone to check the time, “About three hours, at least, left.”

            “And it’s probably especially important to you. You know, because you played matchmaker for Joe and Cecile,” Linda says, while spooning a generous amount of ice cream, topped with fudge and sprinkles and coconut flakes, into her mouth. Iris’s brow furrows,

            “I did not ‘match-make’ my dad and Cecile. We’ve been over this Linda…” Linda begins to interrupt, but Iris shakes her head, “I know you seem to think that because I introduced my dad to Cecile that somehow this is my doing, but that’s untrue. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to hit it off so well, let alone date and get married within a year of my introducing them.” Cecile owns an interior design shop, which Iris had visited when she was helping Barry decorate his new apartment— a memory which immediately brings a smile to Iris’s face, for she fondly recalls Barry frantically searching eBay for a bed and a couch, and the way she had persuaded him that that was a terrible idea and instead found her way to Cecile’s trendy furniture boutique, which was also quite affordable. Cecile was so friendly and sweet, and Iris remembered her father struggling to date again, as it had been nearly a decade and a half since her mother had passed away, and so when she had thrown Barry a housewarming party, Iris figured that there was no harm in inviting Cecile, who had become friends with both Barry and Iris after hours spent together at the boutique, and introducing her to her dad. That had been a year ago. Now, they are at Joe West and Cecile Horton’s wedding reception.

            “Well, we can debate semantics, but you definitely match-maked Wally and me. You can’t deny that,” Linda says, matter-of-factly, before eating another scoop of her sundae.

            “I wouldn’t call it match-making. More like I have a sense for people that I know well and then introduce them, thinking that they may potentially like each other.”

            “You set Wally and I up on a blind date six years ago, and now we’re married and have twins on the way. I would say there’s a diabolical matchmaking side to you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel accomplished every time you successfully match-make a couple.”

            “Linda, I’ve only successfully match-maked— to use your word, which I still find objectionable, by the way— two couples. One was my brother and you. And you’re my best friend. The other was my dad and Cecile. That’s hardly a track record of successful matchmaking.”

            “But it could be. Think about it. This could be a lucrative side hustle.”

            “As if I would have time for a match-making side hustle, even if that was something I was interested in doing. I finally got my news site up and running, and The Citizen needs all hands on deck and then some. Besides, a matchmaking business is an exploitative way to make money.”

            “Mmm, maybe,” Linda seems to ponder this, momentarily, before changing topics, abruptly, “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend now? Thought that was a privilege exclusively afforded to Barry,” Iris has heard this before and rolls her eyes, exasperated,

            “My friendship with Barry is different. You know that.”

            “Actually I don’t know that. But I would love to be enlightened about that.” Linda’s response is far too smug for Iris’s liking, but before she can retort, she hears a familiar voice behind her, a voice that unquestionably wraps Iris in a cocoon of warmth, so that she feels instantly home,

            “I heard my name.” And although she cannot see him yet, she knows he’s smiling. 

            “Was wondering where you were, Allen. It’s a rare sight that you and Iris would be separated at any point, when in the same vicinity.” Barry chuckles at Linda’s quip, settling into the chair on Iris’s right and brushing away a few plastic flowers that had come undone from the upholstery. Iris glances up at him, smiling widely, which he’s reciprocating in equal measure. He sets a plate, containing a chocolate fudge brownie topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, in front of her. Iris’s eyes widen, as she glances from the plate to Barry; her face alight with unadulterated joy. 

            “My hero,” she gasps, squeezing his hand and then truly taking in the scrumptious display of gooey chocolate and ice cream goodness.

            “Always,” he whispers, gazing at her, affectionately, before continuing, “I was wrangling the last brownie from old Mrs. Rogers, who apparently wanted to share it between herself and her cat. Although I don’t know,” Barry pauses for a moment, glancing around the reception hall, “if her cat is even here. Doubtful. Regardless, it took a great deal of speed, stealth, and possibly defying Newton’s first law of physics, because I could have sworn that I willed the brownie in my direction without even touching it, to retrieve this dessert.”

            “Don’t lie, Bear,” Iris says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as she eagerly grabs her dessert fork, “Mrs. Rogers would never argue with you, if you wanted that brownie. She loves you.” 

            “Yeah, it was just my regular, old charm. And by charm, I mean, because I tutor her grandson, Matt, in chemistry.” (Linda snorts at that.) “Still, I think defying Newton’s first law makes for a better story. But nobody was getting this brownie except for you, Iris. You know, we wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you. I mean, just look at this place. It looks fantastic,” he raves, gesturing towards the décor, “The work you put into this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

            “Thank you, Barry.” She’s touched, not just because Barry managed to negotiate the last brownie from poor, old Mrs. Rogers with his rather endearing, tripping-over-his-feet-type charm, but also because he is being, as usual, so disarmingly complimentary of her. Barry never expects her to be amazing; he just thinks she’s amazing always, even when she’s at her lowest or when she is mistaken, and when Iris reflects deeply on that, it overwhelms her. It forces her to dwell on feelings untold; on how, whenever she sees him, she can’t help but smile, almost as if by instinct. 

But she can’t think about it. She won’t think about it.

            “Before you got here, Barry. I was telling Iris how she should really get into a matchmaking side hustle,” Linda says, forcing Iris to focus on the conversation taking place and not on… well, a place where she refuses to go. A place which she cannot explore. 

            “Matchmaking?” Barry leans back, resting his arm on the back of Iris’s chair. “I don’t think that’s even remotely close to anything Iris-like.” Iris is acutely aware of how close his arm is to the bare skin of her upper back, but she ignores this. Or tries to.

            “Exactly. And so I was telling Linda how that’s an awful idea, and how I am pretty sure a matchmaking business, where I have zero actual knowledge about strangers’ interpersonal relationships, could be fraudulent. I can’t possibly claim to be an expert. I mean, no guarantees, right? Seems like a colossal waste of people’s money,” Iris remarks, still trying not to think about Barry’s arm on her chair, right near her back. And how (she thinks she had just imagined it but, no, it was real) he had seemingly shifted his arm, so his fingers are now grazing her skin; his touch is feather-light, equally comforting as it is emboldening. 

            “That could be the genius of it, though. Enough people want to pay money for a matchmaker, even if it’s probably not going to be any more successful than a dating app. Throw in some good, old Cosmopolitan level astrology knowledge for marketing purposes. And there you have it. A potentially incredibly lucrative endeavor. Maybe I should start it myself,” Linda says, while still enjoying her sundae.

            “Why waste money on a matchmaker? Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that,” Barry sounds wistful when he says this, and Iris turns to him, abruptly, studying his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, but his gaze is demonstrable of clear desire, and upon hearing such longing in his voice, her stomach drops. Because that’s the face of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone who’s found their someone. But who could her Barry have found? When did he find someone? 

Iris is contemplating this, her stomach churning with her every thought, when the conversation shifts to pregnancy, as Linda comments how she’s always hungry and moody thanks to,

            “…These two whom Wally impregnated me with.” To which Barry laughs, his fingers still softly grazing Iris’s back, while Iris forces herself to smile along and even joke that Linda had talked her ear off about how much she wanted babies and how maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of herself. But Iris’s mind is still on Barry potentially having found someone. She knows she should be happy, monumentally happy, because Barry is happy, so she cannot fathom why she feels like she’s about to vomit. Suddenly, she has no appetite for her brownie and ice cream, but she eats to evade suspicion, because Barry would surely know something is wrong if she fails to eat her dessert. But from the way he’s carefully watching her, maybe he does know something is wrong already, and Iris wishes, not for the first time, that they did not know each other’s every fidget and expression, signaling a mood shift, so well.

When the wedding reception is over and after Iris has said goodbye to every guest and promised her father and Cecile that she would be at their house the next day for their family dinner, she manages to take three ivory balloons with her to her car, without a single guest noticing. The decorator who had stayed to help her wrap up tells her that she can take any number of balloons that she would like. Or, perhaps more practically, however many would fit in her car. 

*

More accurately, perhaps, Iris thinks she had not been noticed by anyone, when she’d successfully managed to fit all three balloons in her car two nights ago. She’s standing on line at CC Jitters, the local hub for Central City citizens to get their morning coffee and pastry fix, and holding a basket, which contains baked goods, a carefully wrapped red scarf, and a small, navy blue bag. Tied onto the handle of the basket are the three balloons, still inflated. 

            “For the boyfriend?” 

Iris turns to meet the friendly disposition of a blonde woman she’s never met before. Startled for a moment, Iris realizes, that the stranger is referring to her basket, and she smiles, shaking her head,

            “No, for a friend.” Although, given her thoughts lately, friend seems far too simple a word. She feels like she’s perjuring herself by saying friend, but best friend who I’ve known since childhood and with whom I think I might have feelings for, but who is possibly in love with someone else seems far too complicated, especially when Iris is not ready to admit this to herself, let alone to a stranger whom she meets for the first time on the queue for coffee. 

            “Well, they’re lucky. You clearly put so much work into that. No friend has ever given me a gift like that. Actually nobody’s given me a gift that thoughtful before,” the stranger continues, before visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing. I’m Patty, by the way.” 

            “I’m…”

            “Iris!” There it is again, that feeling of home settling upon her shoulders, like a velvet cloak, shielding her, protecting her. Barry is walking towards her, holding two mugs of coffee, and when he stops before her, he presses his lips to her forehead briefly, a typical form of greeting between the both of them. But if he could hear the way her heart hammers against her chest whenever she feels the soft brush of his lips on her skin, then surely the ruse would be up. He would know how she feels, and so Iris is grateful, not for the first time, that her heartbeat is inaudible to anyone but her. 

            “Hey Bear, that for me?” she asks, nodding at one of the two mugs.

            “Yep. One Americano with an extra shot. Got here earlier and figured we could beat the line,” Barry grins, and he’s looking at her as if she’s the sun, and it’s almost too intense, perhaps because of all of those pesky feelings that she’s been feeling lately, so Iris breaks their gaze, remembering herself as well and turning back towards Patty.

            “Patty, this is my friend, Barry. Barry… Patty. We just met on the line.” Barry nods politely, as Patty says,

            “Nice to meet you.”

            “Likewise,” Barry responds. “New around here?”

            “Is it that obvious? I’m just about to start at CCU as a grad student. And so I’m trying to get used to the city. I’m originally from Midway.”

            “Yeah, understandable,” Iris smiles. “Takes awhile to get used to a new place, but CC Jitters is the best, so you’ll never be wanting for good coffee, that’s for sure.” Patty laughs, then,

            “Well, I’m glad for that. Anyways, I won’t keep you two. Thank you, Iris, for just chatting with me.”

            “Of course.” The three exchange polite goodbyes, and Barry and Iris make a beeline for their favorite booth in the farthest corner from the entrance to the coffee shop; a rather secluded, cozy spot that Iris had first started occupying, when she was a journalism student at Central City University. Barry had been a chemistry major, and they met up every morning for breakfast and would come to study nearly every weekend, armed with cookies, coffee, and blankets. Iris remembers long afternoons spent in this booth, her feet propped up on Barry’s lap, his hands massaging her calves, as they studied in companionable silence. 

            It was in this booth that Iris had written article after article for The Central Brief, CCU’s university-wide newspaper, including her famed paper on the state of land rights of women, globally, that had won her the Scholastic Student of Journalism Prize and had given her the chance to speak in The Hague at an international conference on human rights. As Iris agonized over her field research, including research accumulated from summers of backpacking, Barry, while studying for his Protein Crystallography final, had been effusive in his support for her. He was constantly breaking from his studies to be her sounding board, should she need one, despite her reminding him time and again that he ought to concentrate on his own finals and not on her. He never listened, though, not that it in any way affected his marks. And so sure was he that her work would be honored that he’d planned a party, months in advance, before she had heard back from the National Committee for Excellence in Student Journalism and before she had been invited to The Hague. 

            Indeed, it was Barry who had remarked then that Iris ought to consider starting her own news media site after university, stating that she already had the credentials to draw in a large audience and investors. 

            “How are you feeling? About the exposé, I mean. Today’s the big day and all,” Barry says, as they settle into the booth, referring to what Iris considers to potentially be the most groundbreaking piece of journalism of her career thus far, namely an article exposing the rot of the biotechnology company, McCulloch Technologies. Its CEO, Joseph Carver, has been using the corporation as a front for a highly dangerous and illegal weapons trafficking scheme. The exposé, which is due to be published later today, will be a highly contentious article, no doubt, but Iris had long since decided that she will not rest until she sees justice through and the thousands of innocent people, caught in the crosshairs of Carver’s inhumane crimes, are safe.

            “Okay. I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” Iris replies, and Barry takes her hand for a moment,

            “Hey, I get it. It’s hard not to be anxious, especially given the magnitude of the article and the far-reaching consequences it’s going to have. But I am so proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself as well,” he says, running his thumb over her knuckles slowly, before releasing her hand. Iris smiles softly, deeply touched by Barry’s faith in her,

            “Thanks, Bear.”

“Of course,” he says, before gesturing towards the gift basket, “So, are you going to tell me who the basket is for?” Iris adopts a playful expression, then.

            “Hmmm, it’s for this friend of mine who just submitted his dissertation for his DSc.”

            “How did you know I submitted today? I told you my deadline was next week, which it is,” Barry states, apparently incredulous that Iris could have known that he had submitted his paper this morning. 

            “I have my ways. And by that I mean you drooling on my couch last week and mumbling, half-asleep, that you are definitely submitting your dissertation on Tuesday. Well, today’s Tuesday, Bear,” Iris teases, chuckling at the memory of Barry entering her apartment last week in need of caffeine, which culminated with him staying the night, when he fell asleep on her sofa. 

            “I really can’t keep anything from you,” Barry sighs in mock frustration. “Although I really wouldn’t want to, anyways.” 

            “Good. And think about it, now you have this nice surprise.” Barry takes the basket from Iris’s hands, admiring her handiwork, before giving her a sly smile,

            “Well, I guess I know why you took those balloons from the reception on Saturday.”

Okay, so apparently she had not gone completely unnoticed. One guest had noticed her attempt to fit three inflated balloons into her car. Unsurprising, she now reflected, given who that guest happened to be.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Iris. I may not be able to keep anything from you, but you definitely cannot keep anything from me either.” Are you sure about, Iris thinks momentarily, before banishing the thought immediately. For she will not dwell on those feelings again, not when she stands to lose too much if they start consuming her. When Iris looks up again, Barry is looking through the basket, marveling at the baked cake lollipops and banana bread and brownies (Iris can only bake sweets, and she would never subject Barry to her cooking, although he claims it’s not as bad as she seems to think it is), before he takes the red scarf from the basket. “Iris…” he whispers, her name like a prayer on his lips, and there goes her heartbeat again, pounding against her chest. “You knitted this.” And she knows that he already knows that she did, but it’s the way he’s looking at her now, like there are not any words currently discovered to express to her how much this means to him. She gives him a comforting smile, hoping to diffuse some of the intensity of the emotions that are radiating off of Barry. 

“Open the rest,” she encourages, and he’s now holding the small, navy blue bag, and removing a velvet box from it. Encased in the box is a watch, which she’d been saving up for, because all of his watches are for some reason broken, and she can hear his gasp, nearly inaudible, and then he’s looking at her, solemnly, gravely.

“Iris… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… thank you,” he says, his tone soft and tender.

“Of course, Bear. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think this simple gift basket really can quantify how proud I am of you.”

“It’s not… it’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, and there it is again. How definitive it is to him that she’s amazing. And perhaps she forgives herself a little for her feelings then, for how can she not feel as she does when he says things like this to her every single day. He’s already wrapping the scarf on his neck and remarking how comfortable and warm it is. “I couldn’t get better knitted scarves at the store. I’m pretty sure you’re a superhero. You can literally do anything.” She listens to him wax on about her many, unbelievable talents, which she’s sure only he seems to think she possesses, before shaking her head, affectionately,

“The scarf looks good on you. Red is your color.”

“Always has been,” he jokes, although the emotion is still evident in his voice. “Come here,” he says then, reaching his arm towards her. She leaves her side of the booth to come over to his, and the moment she’s at his side, he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. She has one arm around his back, the other clutching his sweater, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and Iris is sure that now he must be able to feel how rapidly her heart is beating. She’s cloaked in warmth and in comfort, and all she can think of is home. And all she can feel is love. The kind of tumbling, head over heels into a field of daisies type of love that Iris’s college friend, Cynthia Reynolds (now a hotshot litigator who works in BigLaw and who also is the Citizen’s unofficial legal counsel), claims is simply mushy, fairy-tale nonsense that couldn’t possibly exist outside of movies. Iris had laughed then, telling Cynthia that maybe she shouldn’t be so cynical. Cynthia had been unmoved, steadfast instead in her sentiment that people can fall in love, but that kind of ‘I want to go gallivanting in a forest somewhere and run towards you in a field, as if this is some damn terrible romantic drama’ love does not and cannot actually exist in real life. 

Well, Iris is feeling that mushy, fairy-tale type of love now (a fact which shocks her, despite the fact that she’s very aware of her growing pesky feelings), while wrapped up in Barry’s arms, so clearly, Cynthia had gotten it wrong. Oh fuck.

*

There are approximately fifteen different photos, capturing different angles of the McCulloch Technologies building, sitting on Iris’s desk when she walks into The Citizen that morning, after saying goodbye to Barry at Jitters, and all Iris can think about is the fact that she’s in love with her best friend. And as if her life could not be more complicated in that very moment, Barry is potentially in love with someone else.  

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She cannot think about her feelings nor Barry being in love with some mystery human being right now, though, for she’s on the verge of publishing the explosive piece on Joseph Carver, who has been using his internationally successful technology company to peddle a highly intricate and complex hub-and-spoke conspiracy involving arms trafficking. He had managed to slither under the radar of inquiring agencies by acquiring different sorts of obscure technology, including ballistic software and parts that are often used to construct robots for laser guidance, under the guise of developing cutting-edge bio-technology. When Iris’s source had informed her that Carver’s labs were combining methane and ammonia, she knew that there was an underbelly of weapons-related criminality within the globally recognizable technology company, and armed with her pen, pepper spray, and sheer gumption, she and her photojournalist, Kamilla Hwang, had obtained press passes to Carver’s unveiling of robotic limbs. While there, Iris had asked janitors, low-level software engineers, and other personnel about why Carver’s labs were having methane and ammonia react with oxygen and how this in any way ameliorates existing biomedical technology. Iris and Kamilla eventually obtained access to a private press tour of Carver’s labs, where they noticed how jittery the staff had been, and after Iris had slipped her card to some of the employees, she had found herself, three days later, with nearly fifteen whistleblowers willing to come forward about nefarious activities in the labs.

As it turned out, Carver’s labs had been trying to create and had indeed succeeded in creating a gun that releases hydrocyanic acid, which they are currently selling on the black market. This is the latest of extraordinarily dangerous weapons that Carver sells both domestically and internationally. Indeed, several politicians are in cahoots with Carver; Carver having made them rich men, in exchange for avoiding Congressional inquiries into McCulloch Tech. 

Now, Iris stands poised to publish the most explosive exposé of her career thus far, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. 

She studies Kamilla’s photos of the McCulloch Tech building, now having to decide which one would accompany the headline that is due to go up right before noon. One photo stood apart among the rest: a shot of McCulloch Tech at night, illuminated by the lights of the city, but with only one floor of the building, the top floor, indicating any activity: the lights of the top floor were on, and the rest of the building was largely camouflaged by the night sky. That top floor contained the only working laboratory at headquarters and is where hydrocyanic acid is processed. This is the photo, Iris thinks, just as she hears a commotion at the door and sees her newest hire, Allegra Garcia, forcefully wrangle open the door, rather dramatically, before slamming it shut.

“Hey, boss,” Allegra says. “We have got to get that door fixed. I’m telling you; it’s trying to kill me every time I arrive.” Iris chuckles fondly at Allegra’s dramatics,

“You’re the only one who seems to be constantly battling the door, Allegra. There are four other people who work here who seem to have no trouble getting in and out of the office.”

“Well, I don’t know, but this door has had it out for me since I began working here. And so… oh! Are those the photos? How much time have we got until noon…?” Allegra pauses momentarily, as she taps her phone, which she was holding in one hand, “Forty minutes. Fantastic.” Iris smiles, watching Allegra race up to her desk, excitedly. Two of the reasons that she had hired Allegra was for her enthusiasm about reporting and for her passion for ethical journalistic integrity, both of which she demonstrated every day on the job.  

“This is the one I want to use to accompany the article,” Iris explains, while pushing the photograph towards Allegra, whose eyes widen when she sees the photo. 

“Yeah, this is incredible. I know Kamilla must have camped out awhile to get this shot,” she exclaims, before looking up at Iris, “We’re really gonna do this, boss. We’re gonna expose Carver and who knows? You might win a Pulitzer from this.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to publish the exposé first, and our legal team has been sending me messages since this morning about how she is obligated to warn us about frivolous defamation suits that Carver might file in the immediate aftermath. But the truth is more important. Let Carver sue us; if he does, he’s going to lose anyways.” Although, to be completely accurate, the Citizen’s unofficial legal team, comprising of one Cynthia Reynolds, whose texts to Iris consisted of, “Carver is definitely going to sue you for defamation, so I’ve got to warn you of that, but screw that guy. Publish and destroy him once and for all,” were certainly more emboldening than averting. Iris is also quite certain that that is technically not sound legal advice, in the least.

The door opens again, and in walks Kamilla, joined by the two other reporters at The Central City Citizen, Kara Danvers and James Olsen. They’re all chatting animatedly about the exposé and the explosive ripple effects its publication might have. 

“He’s an absolute monster,” Kara tells James, no doubt referring to Carver. “I mean, hydrocyanic acid? The sheer inhumaneness of his crimes just to fill his coffers…” 

“Evil folks will do absolutely anything to satisfy their greed, including murdering people,” James observes, and Iris knows this is perhaps a fundamental truth of which every investigative journalist must be aware. Kamilla walks up to Iris’s desk and grins when she sees Iris scanning the chosen photo onto her computer,

“That’s the one, isn’t it? When I captured it, I knew I had gotten it. It took me, I think, nearly five hours of camping out, and it was 2:45 AM yesterday when I finally had managed to take that photo.” 

“It’s incredible, Kamilla,” Iris praises. “All your photos are great, but this one is fantastic. It captures exactly what we need to accompany the article.” When Iris had taken this on by herself, she had been wary about putting any of her reporters in danger, but Kamilla had insisted that she accompany Iris in order to take photographs. In hindsight, Iris is incredibly grateful to have had Kamilla by her side through it all, for her calm, steady demeanor was vital amidst the insanity of taking on Joseph Carver. Kara and James, who have caught up to the others, both make approving noises, congratulating Kamilla on her photography, as Iris continues to work to format the article. 

When she is satisfied with the formatting, she taps her phone, seeing that there is roughly twenty minutes remaining until the deadline, and while her reporters are chattering excitedly, the door opens once more, and Iris is greeted by the sight of Wally carrying two champagne bottles in one hand and precariously balancing a few glasses in his other hand. On his heels is Barry, who is carrying a large white box with the words ‘Zulma’s Pastries’ emblazoned on the top, and Iris is flooded with that fairy-tale, gallivanting in a field of daisies feeling again, to which she now finds she is already getting accustomed, which is a somewhat terrifying thought. 

While Iris has some idea as to why both of them are in her office, she is also aware that Dr. Wally West is supposed to be at work at Central City Hospital, and Barry is supposed to be meeting the Dean of Graduate Studies at CCU about a potential professorship. 

“What are you two doing here?” Iris asks, smiling nonetheless, for she is touched that they likely took time out of their busy days to celebrate the publication of the exposé. She had not mentioned the details of the publication to them, in an effort to protect her sources, but Linda had let it slip to Wally that Iris is publishing the article on Tuesday at the wedding on Saturday, and Barry… well, Barry knows everything about Iris, just the way she knows everything about him, so his appearance in her office twenty minutes before she is meant to publish the most important exposé of her professional career is even less surprising than Wally’s.

“I can’t believe you thought we weren’t going to come and crash this… pathetic party, quite frankly,” Wally says, frowning as he takes in the Citizen office, which while buzzing with the excitement of determined reporters, is not exactly set up for any sort of impending celebration. “You have nothing here to celebrate, Iris. No food, no drinks, nothing.” 

“We haven’t even published, and we have no idea of the repercussions of a piece like this, Wally. I think our sheer grit as reporters is celebratory enough.” 

“We knew you were going to say that,” Barry chuckles, placing the box on a desk adjacent to Iris’s, and then helping Wally with the champagne glasses. “But Linda and I wanted this to be a surprise. We managed to get Wally to help, which is good…”

“Linda’s not feeling well,” Wally cuts in. “She was having awful morning sickness, and I told her I didn’t want to go and that Barry could do the heavy-lifting, but she threatened me and sent me away with two of our best champagne bottles.” Iris begins to protest, but Wally continues on, “And honestly, Iris, before you say anything, I’d rather get an earful from you about leaving Linda at home for this— and by the way, she’s feeling much better, thanks to the fact that I’ve finally perfected the art of making a ginger and mint smoothie— than defy her orders.” 

“Glad to see your theatrics are still in top form,” Iris deadpans, before turning to Barry, pointedly, “Thank you, Barry. You and Linda really didn’t have to do all of this. I haven’t even published it yet.” 

“Excuse me, I helped!” Wally interjects, and Barry is laughing now as Iris reaches up to give him a quick hug, which he returns immediately. As they break apart, Barry’s hand lingers on her arm.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I wanted this to be a surprise and that’s why I didn’t mention earlier coming by later on. And I knew you could have used a distraction this morning from thinking about the exposé.”

“I did need a distraction,” Iris smiles, still keenly aware of his fingers slowly brushing against her arm, gently, tenderly. 

“I imagine you did. But to reiterate what I said earlier this morning, I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” He cups her face with one hand, gently caressing his thumb against her cheek, and he’s gazing at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and she knows that the same intensity that had radiated off of him when she’d gifted him the basket earlier this day is emanating from him now, and she cannot help but wonder if he feels what she feels, because in these moments, she’s sure he must be. 

Wally clears his throat loudly, while pouring out the champagne, and both Barry and Iris break away from each other quickly. When Iris looks up at Wally, he’s giving her that same look Linda had given her at the wedding reception on Saturday, when she had clarified that her friendship with Barry was different. Unwilling to entertain the idea that Wally and Linda have discussed her feelings for Barry, she turns to her reporters, who were already opening Barry’s box of sweets.

“Brownies!” Kara yelps, eyeing the chocolate chip, fudge brownies and quickly grabbing paper plates from the Citizen’s supply cupboard. 

“Thank you, Barry! We really needed this,” James agrees, while Kamilla and Allegra join their colleagues in helping themselves to the scrumptious sweets and expressing their gratitude. 

“We’re not going to get any work done today, but it’s fine. Thanks, Bear,” Iris laughs, as Barry hands her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together, before sipping their respective drinks.

“The Citizen can use a break. Especially you,” Barry says after a few moments, giving Iris a pointed look. “You’ve had countless sleepless nights over the research for this, and now it’s ready for the public to read. You deserve a whole week long break, at least.”

“The news doesn’t stop for me to catch up on sleep, unfortunately. I have three upcoming potential stories, including the ways in which exam software companies have violated the privacy of examinees.”

“Sounds like you’re about to become the hero of every university student everywhere. I can’t believe the vagueness of some of those disclaimers that exam software companies put out, as if students have any choice but to use them, when they have examinations online.”

“Yeah, exactly. And if nobody holds their feet to the fire, they think that they can get away with anything. That’s why I’ve got to do it.”

“Iris West saves the world yet again. That should be a headline. Maybe I should pitch it to Central City Picture News. Think Scott Evans would run a headline on his biggest rival?”

“Scott would definitely do it, if it brings CCPN good business. Besides, our rivalry is more friendly than anything else. That said, ‘Iris West Saves the World Yet Again’ sounds more like I’m saving the world with superpowers, not the power of a pen and a public audience. I think you might be overselling me just a little bit.”

“Absolutely not,” Barry says, affronted. “Iris West is my hero, and she always has been, so I think you’re underestimating her. She’s a total superhero.” 

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not a superhero, Iris. You’re definitely not going to win this argument.”

“Fine, I’ll level with you. Because you know what they say, right? Every superhero has her own hero? Well, if I am a superhero, then I have a confession to make: my hero happens to be this guy I know… superheroes need strength to be invincible, right? So yeah, this guy is my constant strength. Maybe you know him? Name’s Barry Allen?” Barry blushes furiously at that, ducking his head bashfully, and Iris thinks, Success! She knows she’s rendered him flustered, and he’s so adorably handsome, as he fidgets with his hands, as if searching for something to hold. But even despite his flustered state, he remembers the ongoing debate, and he manages a,

“Alright, alright. You win, Iris.” Iris smiles at him, radiantly and triumphantly, just as Wally makes his way over to them, holding a champagne glass of his own, and he’s got a rather sheepish look on his face, which immediately makes Iris suspicious.

“I know that face, Wall. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing. Not every expression of mine means something,” Wally says, immediately defensive. “Although, I do have to ask you a small favor. But really, it’s not a favor, because it’s actually going to be great for you. So it’s technically a favor, but a favor that you’ll enjoy.” 

“Of course you think so. What is it?” Iris asks, tiredly, knowing immediately that she probably was not going to enjoy this favor as much as Wally seems to think. 

“Okay, so you know Cecile’s godson, Eddie Thawne? He couldn’t come to the wedding, because he was away on an emergency business trip?”

“Yeah, I know Eddie,” Iris responds, confused as to what he had to do with whatever Wally was asking of her. Eddie Thawne was the son of Cecile’s best friend, a wealthy hotelier, and he’d been friendly enough in the few interactions that Iris had had with him, but she could not claim to know him all that well.

“Right, so he’s hosting this gala in Metropolis for dad and Cecile this Saturday. It’s very last minute, found out last night, actually… and well, I’d told dad I was going to go, because you know, one of us should go, right? Technically, both of us should, but dad didn’t want to trouble you, because you’ve been so busy with work, and it’s not a big deal. In fact, I think dad didn’t want you to know, because he thought you might get the wrong idea and think that this gala was going to upstage all the work you put in for the actual wedding and reception, which I kept insisting to him you wouldn’t think at all. And I don’t want to leave Linda, even for the weekend. She keeps telling me she’ll be fine, and I know she’s not due for another two months, but I’m not comfortable going.”

“So, you want me to go,” Iris says, knowing exactly what her brother was asking of her. On the one hand, traveling to Metropolis for the weekend for a gala made Iris nervous, because she did not want to leave Central City for at least a week after the McCulloch Tech article was published, but on the other hand, Wally could not be expected to attend, and it would be wrong if both of them missed a gala that was being held for their dad and Cecile. 

Wally is apparently under the impression that Iris might need some more coaxing, so he puts his champagne glass down and reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing four plane tickets.

“Here, the flight tickets are on me. Eddie is putting people up in rooms at his family’s hotel, and he apparently booked four rooms between the two of us, so we could each bring some guests. With Linda and I not going, you’ll have at least three rooms to fill.”

“It’s fine, Wally. I’ll go. You’re right; we should go for dad and Cecile, and you honestly cannot and should not go. I just have to find people who can take a trip with me, last minute…” Iris knows whom she would want to invite, and so she turns to Barry, immediately. “Look, Bear, I know it’s short notice, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Barry agrees quickly, before she can even finish posing the question, and Iris notices that he has a slightly agitated expression, which worries her. His hand clenches the edge of her desk, rather forcefully, and so she places her own hand over his, reassuringly, and this seems to relax him, at least momentarily, as she can feel some of the tension in his muscles evaporate slowly. He smiles, then, perhaps trying to mask his sudden agitation, “My weekend’s free, and we were just talking about how you could use a break, Iris. This’ll be good, as it’s a vacation of sorts.” 

“Thanks, Barry. I’ll also ask Cynthia; she could always use a break, and Bear, why don’t you invite someone?”

“I’ll ask Cisco.” Iris glances up at Barry, and they both share a knowing look: they had been trying to get Cynthia and Barry’s old college roommate and engineering genius extraordinaire, Cisco Ramon, to meet for ages (So much for swearing off match-making, Iris thinks then), but they had not had the chance to introduce the two of them yet. This trip might just provide the long-awaited golden opportunity.

“Perfect,” Wally says, considerably relieved, but before Iris can respond, she finds herself surrounded by her fellow reporters who are telling her that it’s just before noon. She nods, waiting until everyone is gathered around her, and Barry’s arm comes around her shoulders, providing her with both comfort and strength. And while a sudden, rather dignified silence, perhaps to mark the solemnity of this publication, descends upon the Citizen, Iris can feel the soundless excitement of Kamilla and of Allegra and of Kara and of James, as she publishes the exposé on the Citizen’s website. 

*

Thus, late that Friday afternoon, Iris finds herself boarding a plane with Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco, in tow, and she’s only half paying attention to Cisco’s exuberance in describing his latest inventive feat at S.T.A.R. Labs, the product technology company he works for, because Barry is acting… odd. He has been acting odd since he had accepted her invitation to come along to Metropolis, and she cannot fathom what it is about this trip that has him so on edge. He is fidgeting so much, and every time he notices that she notices, he gives her a forced smile, as if to divert her suspicions away from his agitation, but that only serves to increase her worries. Whatever is bothering him so much is something that he apparently is unwilling to share with her. 

“…It’s insane. I mean, if we get this right, we will be revolutionizing tablet computers and robotic interpreters,” Cisco is saying, and Iris is sure that if Cisco is put to the task, he and his team certainly would get it done, for she had witnessed his genius first hand before, when, during a birthday party for his best friend, Caitlin Snow, a few years back, the power had blown and there had been no backup generator, and Cisco had managed to create a temporary power source seemingly out of thin air. Iris is sure that there were numerous devices at Cisco’s disposal, and he’d had the aid of Caitlin’s then boyfriend now husband, Ronnie, also an engineer, but it was the sheer ingenuity of Cisco’s engineering ability and the sheer determination to get this done and to ensure Caitlin had the party that she deserved that was so impressive. 

“If anyone can get it done, though, it’s Cisco Ramon,” Iris voices her thoughts, and Cisco smiles proudly,

“Thanks, Iris. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but I definitely think we’re headed in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hmmm, it all sounds impressive, but what are the patenting ramifications that come with such a unique project. Surely, you’re worried about somebody trying to build upon your product once it’s out in the market. How stringent is your patent going to be?” Cynthia, ever the cynic, adds, eyeing Cisco.

“I don’t want to hog all the spotlight, honestly. We want other people and companies to be able to build on our findings and develop even better tech. There’ll be a patent, but it’s not going to be exclusive.” 

“You’re way too nice.”

“I’m just here to improve tech. Being nice isn’t a crime, I hope,” Cisco laughs, and Cynthia shakes her head fondly, clearly believing Cisco to be naive, but apparently endeared to his naiveté nonetheless. Cisco and Cynthia, still playfully arguing about the stringency of a future patent, take their seats in the middle row, and Iris and Barry, the latter who is still distracted, sit by the window across the aisle. 

“Bear, what’s going on?” Iris sighs, finally, turning to him, once they’ve taken their seats. Barry looks up at her, startled and guilty, and immediately starts deflecting,

“Nothing. I’m fine, Iris, really. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it. Just… I don’t know, I’m fine.” Iris can tell that he’s not going to be forthcoming with her, no matter how persistent she is, but she is not ready to drop the issue entirely.

“I’m not going to press you, but you know that if something is bothering you, I’m always here, if you want to talk. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Of course I do,” Barry says, his voice tender. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world for it. I’m sorry that I’ve been out of it the last couple of days, I just… I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s the last thing I want.” Iris can tell he’s struggling between telling her and being evasive, so she takes his hand in her own, their fingers interlocking almost instinctively. She squeezes his hand, as his thumb brushes against her knuckles. 

“I’m going to worry, because it’s you, and so I can’t not worry, but I don’t want you to tell me anything when you’re not ready to.” Barry’s free hand comes to cup her chin, as he brings her closer to him, and she basks in the warmth of his hand against her skin. When his lips meet her forehead, she closes her eyes and relishes in his lingering kiss, and she knows… she knows that she’s unequivocally in love with him, and she’s sure that she has been for quite some time, and all she wants to do is lift her face and coax his lips to hers, but she can’t. She knows that she can’t. She can’t ruin their equilibrium, because if she were to admit her feelings and lose Barry’s friendship completely… that is a possibility that she cannot risk. 

“I know how deeply you care. And I love you for it,” he whispers against her forehead. And I love you for it. 

He’s told her he loves her so many times over the two decades that they’ve known one another, and she knows that he means it platonically, as he always has, but that doesn’t stop her from imagining that he loves her in the same way that she loves him. 

And when Barry falls asleep, after the plane takes off, and drops his head, so it rests comfortably on her shoulder, his face turned into the crook of her neck, so that she can feel his steady breaths fanning against her skin, Iris leans her head against his, and she thinks that this is what true tranquility feels like. 

And I love you for it.

[leviathanswingman]

love is a losing game, chapter 8: i break the spell

In retrospect, Diavolo should have known there was trouble in the air. There had been myriads of signs, yet he had foolishly decided to remain blind in favour of avoiding an uncomfortable truth he was unwilling to face.

The moment those doors closed behind Diavolo's back and the off-putting silence was filled with the unmistakable echo of a dull thud, Diavolo was forced to recognize that every single one of his actions, no matter how little or seemingly insignificant, had its consequences.

He caught himself thinking back, and the more thought he put into it, the more he grew aware of his own foolishness.

Diavolo was less than thrilled when Barbatos had revealed the plan for the evening he had come up with in collaboration with Simeon. A night out at one of the hottest clubs in town, just Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and Solomon. Good grief.

Surely, their intentions were pure at heart, after all Diavolo had spent the entire day holed up in his room, wallowing in his own royal pity.

He had just made one of the biggest mistakes of his life, so he should confidently be allowed to pity himself for a good minute or two.

He had to face reality and remind himself that he had slept with Lucifer. Out of all the irrational choices Diavolo had made in his entire life, this might have been by far the most self destructive one. Normally, people would be thrilled, no, even elated to become one with their most beloved. For Diavolo though, what was generally supposed to be a joyous occasion had turned one of his most detrimental relationships upside down. It did not matter how deeply Diavolo wanted him, he was terribly aware of how keen Lucifer was on keeping their relationship strictly professional.

The one thing Diavolo could allow himself was meaningful side-glances and hands brushing against each other ever so accidentally as they walked side by side. He knew he should feel fulfilled by all of that, yet desire was keeping hold of his heart; there were these bony fingers with nails the exact shade of fresh blood tightening around that beating little thing of his that caused nothing but unwarranted trouble.

In spite of everything, Diavolo's feelings for Lucifer were one of the Devildom's most badly kept secrets and often-whispered rumours. To be completely honest, he himself didn't contribute all that much to stop the spreading of said rumour. Call it laziness or his disdain for telling lies, both assumptions were correct in their own little ways. Perhaps there was a part of him, however deeply hidden inside, that did not mind whatsoever. No, that fluttering part of his soul was filled with the undeniable need to make it known across all three realms just how adored and appreciated Lucifer was. How loved he was. Still, Lucifer was not his, he had never been and would never be.

Gentle feelings had been living in Diavolo's heart ever since he'd first decided to put his trust in Lucifer. Along the way however, they had ever so seamlessly turned from feelings of pride into feelings of love.

Thinking back, he had  never had much of a chance to begin with. It had been a race against time. Falling for Lucifer, that was.

And although Diavolo harboured these certain feelings for Lucifer, he knew better than to act upon them. Lucifer was as complex as the universe; stars cowered before the intensity of his light, the morning star, still shining bright and standing strong, smarter than life and more handsome than death itself.

However, and most importantly, Lucifer was not dumb. By now, he must have surely caught on to Diavolo's thinly veiled adoration. Lucifer being his ever so obedient self probably simply refrained from acknowledging the fact and now refused Diavolo ever so politely and professionally, in his own subtle ways.

So Diavolo had learned to stick to their untold boundaries, had learned to tease and to compliment and to form one of the most important relationships of his life, always with invisible boundaries in mind.

This specific friday night however, with the cold winter air kissing his cheeks, he had been made aware of how thin the ice he was moving on was when he had let his own warm fingers slip in-between Lucifer's icy ones. For a second, it had felt ever so divine.

Saturday morning, when he awoke in the early morning hours, entangled in silky sheets and surrounded by Lucifer's intoxicating scent, he could pinpoint the moment he broke through the ice and sank down to the mysterious depths of a dark yet comforting ocean, struggling for air.

As Diavolo laid on his stomach, naked as the day he was born, his exhausted head resting on his arms, he felt confusion corrupt his heart. Newly born eyes drifted over the man resting beside him.  Diavolo's eyes roamed over Lucifer's sleeping form next to him and ever so suddenly, he felt the need to avert his eyes. Seeing Lucifer like this felt like a sight he did not have the right to enjoy.

Still, he could not refuse to reach out, his fingertips trailing across the sharp angles of Lucifer's jawline, tracing along soft skin on strong cheekbones, working their way up to swipe beneath Lucifer's eyes. Diavolo took in every smallest bit of detail he could hang onto; his almost sickly pale skin, slightly swollen lips, elegant hands resting next to his face, dark strands of hair falling into his face, beautiful like a renaissance painting. Lucifer's face, for once all relaxed and without any signs of stress, so calm, so pristine. He looked so much younger like this, so much more at peace.

At once, Diavolo found himself struck with a single question: Why?

Lucifer had never been one to engage in Diavolo's flirtatious invitations, no. Actually, he used to make sure to pull up borders between them, set up boundaries to keep the two of them from growing closer than what was deemed acceptable in his mind. So why? Why had he humoured Diavolo this time, why had he allowed to let passion take the lead for once ?

Uncertainty was thick in the air. What would happen once the spell was broken and Lucifer awoke, ready to reject anything that had happened between them just to revert back to a painful working relationship?

Perhaps it was foolish of him, but to avoid confrontation and his own inevitable heartbreak, Diavolo did the one and only thing his old man had taught him all those years ago. He ran away.

A day later, he was now holed up in his room, finding comfort in the certainty of silken sheets and warm blankets.

There was a knock on the door before Barbatos raised his voice.”Young Master, are you ready to leave? We need to make haste.”

Diavolo suppressed a groan trying to emerge from the depths of his soul. “Barely, Barbatos. Barely,” he answered almost dramatically. He was aware of  how childish this little act of defiance of his must seem, but after what had happened between Lucifer and him, he felt like he could allow himself this kind of luxury for a day or two, just until he felt either less ashamed or until he had come to terms with having gotten so close to the one person he could never truly have.

For the shortest of moments, he felt tempted to throw a little fit. If that was all he had to do to be allowed to stay at home, he would gladly do it. He was a prince after all, and that did come with its perks.

Of course, there would be no fooling Barbatos though, but it would at least get him off his back for the evening at last.

In the end, that wouldn't do him any good though. Living in absolute denial was easy, but to move on, Diavolo knew he had to step out of his comfort zone and admit to his wrongdoings. And maybe Barbatos and Simeon were right, perhaps it would do him good to get distracted a bit.

Begrudgingly, Diavolo got up, shuffled towards his dresser and put on the clothes Barbatos had picked out for him. Leather pants and a black dress shirt adorned with crimson roses, fair enough. Diavolo made himself presentable in a routinely fashion. As he was done, he stared at his reflection in the mirror, only to be left vis-a-vis with a stranger.

He had always been so sure of his own strength of mind, of his own restraint, yet now that he'd broken one of his biggest rules, he failed to recognize the demon in the mirror staring back at him. With a bothered sigh Diavolo picked himself up again and snapped out of it.

His dear friends were waiting for him. Only bad hosts would make their precious friends wait.

A twenty minute ride later, Barbatos, Simeon and Diavolo arrived at one of the Devildom's hottest clubs. Even outside, demons and other creatures were mingling, some with drinks in their hands and others without, apparently having the time of their lives.

Diavolo couldn't help but feel suffocated. How exactly any of this was supposed to cheer him up was nothing less than a mystery to him, but he still appreciated Simeon and Barbatos' attempt at gifting him an enjoyable evening, even though he most certainly would have preferred to spend the remainder of the night by himself buried in silken sheets. Not that there was much to change about that now.

It was well near midnight and the rather small building seemed to practically vibrate with music, sweat and an uncomfortable heat, only adding to Diavolo's avid reluctance to be there to begin with.

Solomon was waiting for them, clad in a leather jacket, standing next to a clearly overwhelmed bouncer. As they all approached, the demon froze in place before greeting the group accordingly. Quickly, he started to press stamp after stamp onto the back of their hands before anyone could protest. The club's mark shone bright red in the darkness. Diavolo tried to admire it for a moment but all he was reminded of were those piercing red eyes, set aflame, looking up at him from the comfort of silken sheets and quiet moans.

Simeon placed his hand atop of Diavolo's shoulder to lead him to the table they had reserved. “Let's go inside and see what's happening,” he said with a pretty smile which Diavolo didn't appreciate all that much at the moment. Still, he obliged and followed the angel into the overfilled club. As they entered they found themselves surrounded by whispers and mumbling. After all, both Simeon and Diavolo had quite the reputation and were well known across the lands.

Solomon, being the one most familiar with the club due to multiple nights out with Asmodeus, lead the way towards their table.

Diavolo suppressed a sigh. Normally, he knew better than to show himself in public looking this miserable, yet this night, he simply couldn't bring himself to put on a smile either. He was currently facing the crisis of a possibly crumbling relationship, a good amount of gloom seemed quite appropriate to him.

“There we are,” Solomon finally said as he motioned  towards a table for four and stopped in his tracks. Diavolo swore he could hear the faintest train of curses leaving the sorcerer's mouth.

Upon surveying the room, Diavolo immediately zeroed in on the reason for Solomon's uncharacteristic reaction.

The table next to theirs, littered with several half-empty cups, was currently occupied by two men clinking their glasses together before indulging in their drinks. Without any hesitation one of them downed half of his drink while the other one took a solemn sip, looking rather miserable.

Out of all the places Diavolo could even consider running into Lucifer at, a sweaty night club was set dead last, yet somehow, fate had once again managed to betray Diavolo's trust in an epic fashion.

Despite his inner turmoil, Diavolo couldn't argue against the fact that Lucifer looked ravishing, even though there was that certain look to his eyes that suggested a high level of discomfort. Guilt gnawed at Diavolo's conscience as he couldn't help himself but feel responsible for that. He wanted to do nothing more than run to him, cradle his face and make everything bothersome go away. However, he refrained from doing so. To be perfectly honest, he could not place what their relationship was at the moment. After that night, nothing was certain anymore. Years upon years of suppressed feelings had finally boiled over in one night of glorious intimacy. Perhaps, Diavolo should have seen it coming. He was terribly impulsive by nature, and going against his own flow rarely worked out in his favour.

Diavolo looked at Lucifer and before he could so much as start to worry about how he should act now, their eyes met and Lucifer -ever so prim and proper, all elegant in his skintight onyx turtleneck- choked on his drink. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he averted his gaze again. As he turned his head to talk to his little brother, the collar of his turtleneck shifted slightly, revealing the quietest hint of a hickey under his jaw.

A sad smile flashed across Diavolo's face. What he wouldn't give to turn back time and unmake all of that night's mistakes, for now he knew what it was like to have a taste of this otherworldly perfection, only for it to be cruelly taken away from him.

“Oh, Lucifer! It's rare to see you out of your office,” Simeon greeted. “In a club nonetheless.”

Diavolo watched the way Lucifer's eyebrows furrowed in slight annoyance. “I am solely here to keep an eye on Asmodeus,” he swiftly answered before taking another sip of his drink.

Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon and Solomon joined the two demons at the almost vacant table in spite of the strange aura that seemed to surround them.

Slowly, they lost themselves in trivial conversations, and if Diavolo buried his head in the menu to avoid Lucifer's illegible gaze, then he would allow himself this foolish behaviour for one night before having to decide on what to do about the Lucifer situation. He spent the night sneaking glances while simultaneously avoiding to make eye contact with his right hand man, unable to face him yet but also unwilling to look away.

Several hours into the night Lucifer got up and left the table, turning his back to Diavolo as he headed towards a far-away corner of the club, probably to threaten Solomon, who seemed to have gotten himself in quite the situation with Asmodeus.

As Diavolo's eyes followed Lucifer's retreating figure, he spotted the faintest of lines peeking out of  the collar which covered most of his neck, but had slid down a bit during the evening.

In that moment, Diavolo hadn't thought much of it. He was too occupied with the problem at hand, which was trying to find a way to fix what he had broken apart. So he shrugged off what he had seen as a fata morgana, as nothing but a mere illusion. His mind was probably just playing tricks on him.

Had he not been so distracted he would have taken note of the implications of those lines, still almost translucent in their newborn state.

The next time he saw Lucifer in more than passing was several days later due to Barbatos calling in an emergency student council meeting.

By then, Diavolo had made up his mind. To no surprise, a few days without any distractions, just him and his thoughts, were just what he had needed to come up with a solution.

All he had to do was apologize in complete sincerity. Lucifer deserved at least that much. He would apologize, he would do whatever was needed to set things right again.

Diavolo joined Lucifer's side, his right shoulder brushing against Lucifer's left one just as Barbatos opened the meeting.

Half-heartedly, Diavolo paid attention to the meeting. Apparently, someone on the council had managed to get themselves sick enough to be put on MagiMeds. Interestingly enough, the demon in question refused to reveal themselves. Not that they had to, but it was well known that it was generally the easiest way to fess up so you wouldn't inconvenience the rest of the council.

Normally, this would spark Diavolo's interest and he would find himself hell bent on finding out every single detail about the who, what, where and whys, but this day his mind was preoccupied with nothing but Lucifer.

After the meeting ended, Diavolo and Lucifer were joined by Barbatos. As they talked about the meeting, Diavolo found himself more interested in the matter the more Barbatos explained about the whole situation.

An unplanned bonding, he had called it. Something like this could only happen to the truly unfortunate. Diavolo expressed this sentiment to Barbatos just as Lucifer joined the conversation, his crimson eyes roaming over Diavolo's face, perhaps searching for something Diavolo himself wasn't aware of just yet. They talked, and even when faced with the hypothetical situation of an unplanned bond, Lucifer was being unapologetically, well, Lucifer. No one but him would write off an illness this logically and this removed from any sort of sentiment.

Diavolo didn't know whether to feel concerned or endeared, but in the end gave up on trying to figure out which one was the right one. After all, he was delighted to finally be able to talk to Lucifer again. Things weren't right just yet, but talking to him was already a step above pitiful pining from a safe distance.

Their eyes met for a moment and without any explanation, the strangest thing happened. Just as honey met glowing coals, a peculiar feeling ran through Diavolo's body. It felt almost as if he had been shocked by electricity; a subtle tingling followed by an uncomfortable buzzing. There was an additional stinging sensation running through his chest, right where his heart was. Subconsciously, Diavolo rubbed his chest to alleviate the discomfort.

Strangely enough, Lucifer's expression mirrored Diavolo's shocked one.

So he hadn't been the only one to feel it.

All at once, stronger than ever before, he was filled with the urgent need to touch Lucifer. Diavolo's heart was racing wildly, and without thinking about it, he reached out, the pads of his fingertips landing upon Lucifer's cheek, softly like the shyest of butterfly kisses. Diavolo felt another harsh sting run through his heart. There was no denying that he was absolutely helplessly in love with this man.

Suddenly flustered, Diavolo pulled his hand back again just as Barbatos joined them once again to pester, or perhaps remind Diavolo about his royal duties.

As Diavolo, thankful for the distraction, whined to Barbatos he noticed Lucifer twitching violently out of the corner of his eye, just once, before fixing his posture and rejoining their conversation as if nothing had happened whatsoever.

Diavolo decided not to comment on it, after all, it was nothing but a little twitch.

He paced back and forth in front of Lucifer's study. During the day, he had felt good about apologizing to Lucifer, almost excited even to fix their cracked relationship. Now though, that the time to take action had come, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous.

He was minutes away from being open about the fact that they had slept with each other, suddenly making it feel more like reality and less like a dream.

Just as Diavolo was leaning against the wall next to the door, mustering up enough courage to walk through that door, his pointer tapping against the door frame in a jumpy manner, the door flew open and Diavolo jumped out of the way right before he could be hit by the door.

“WHO-” A pissed off Lucifer was staring at him, his expression quickly changing to one of bewilderment as he realized who his visitor was. “Diavolo?”

“Good... evening?”

As Lucifer invited him, his face a blank canvas void of any sort of emotion, Diavolo felt his skin crawl. Whether this was his body telling him that something felt off or his brain trying to stop him from being a fool was unclear.

Distracted by the strange vibe he got, comforted by Lucifer's presence, disturbed by the look in Lucifer's eyes, Diavolo finally found the courage to apologize for his wrongdoings. Of course, it took two to tango -and tango they did- but Diavolo was ever so aware of the fact that all things Lucifer were deeply intricate and seriously complex matters. So as he had done so often before, he told Lucifer the truth by simply leaving out several crucial details.

Per his own rule, he refused to lie. However that didn't mean that he couldn't evade certain unspoken facts.

Lucifer was difficult, Diavolo knew that. They had strenuously built their relationship up from the ashes of a seemingly endless war, had gone from enemies to rescuer and rescuee, to allies, to friends up to something else entirely. And because of that, Diavolo knew he could not tell Lucifer the entire truth.

The relationship they'd had before that certain night had been fine. It had been safe despite those unspoken truths they often found in stolen glances and lingering touches. Diavolo was fine with pining as long as that meant he could keep Lucifer by his side. As long as Lucifer felt comfortable, he would be fine as well. They had been doing this spiel for decades now and Diavolo had gotten quite skilful at figuring out how far he could push their boundaries before they would inevitably crumble to the ground.

This was their little dance, he knew where to step and how to move just as Lucifer knew when to lift his right hand in unison with Diavolo's left one, palms mere inches apart as they slowly spun around each other to the soft tunes of solemn piano music.

Diavolo knew painfully well that the one thing he desperately wanted to say, he could not allow to be heard.

“I need you in my life,” he finally said after having apologized for what had happened. You don't know how much I love you, he conveniently left out.

The air was cleared yet still, Diavolo couldn't shake the undeniable feeling of discomfort prickling up and down his spine. So he did what he knew best; he deflected.

“Oh, Lucifer! This reminds me of this thing I overheard Solomon and Yuuta talking about. I think they called it 'kissing the homies goodnight' ?”

The joke came bubbling out of his mouth before he could properly think about it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. Lucifer fixed him with a strangely twisted expression. “Please don't even joke about that,” he forced out without any hesitation.

Once again, he twitched and before Diavolo could dismiss it again, he moved without thinking and cupped the back of Lucifer's neck.

There was no logical reason for him to do so, yet somehow, it felt completely and utterly right in the way it made his heart buzz and the palm of his hand tickle.

The moment was over as quickly as it had begun.

Diavolo was hastily sent off by Lucifer and as the door to his study closed behind him, he was able to breathe freely for the first time in days. The sensation of relief did not last for all that long though. As his mind was finally freed from the crushing weight of uncertainty, reality set in.

The moment those doors closed behind Diavolo's back and the off-putting silence was filled with the unmistakable echo of a dull thud, Diavolo was forced to recognize that every single one of his actions, no matter how little or seemingly insignificant, had its consequences.

“Lucifer?” he asked, but received no answer. There was no sound coming from the room whatsoever. Diavolo knocked multiple times in quick succession. “Lucifer?!” he asked, louder this time. Still, he received nothing except for an eerie silence.

An unsettling feeling started to bloom in the pit of his stomach. Throwing any resemblance of caution or appropriateness to the wind, Diavolo pushed the door to Lucifer's study back open.

He felt like his heart was ready to jump out of his chest as he took in the sight of an unresponsive Lucifer lying face-down on the floor. A pool of blood was slowly starting to form around his head, a deadly crimson halo standing in stark contrast against Lucifer's almost sickly looking, ashen skin.

“Lucifer!” Diavolo rushed to his side and carefully turned Lucifer's body around, cradling him with one arm as he pushed his hair aside to inspect the source of the bleeding. There was a big gash across his forehead, blood oozing out of it and dripping down the side of Lucifer's head, landing on the marbled tiles on the ground.

In the middle of his panicked state, Diavolo came to the hasty conclusion that he was an utter buffoon.

Deep down, he had felt uneasy whenever he looked at Lucifer. What he had written off as anxiety due to their broken relationship status, now turned out to be so much more than that. All along, there had been several red flags which Diavolo had foolishly written off as either coincidences or mere trifles.

Diavolo pulled Lucifer closer to his body as the air filled with ashes and embers and he transformed into his demon form. This time, he wouldn't fail Lucifer, he refused to.

He made sure that his grip on Lucifer was strong before he unceremoniously stepped around the desk and kicked in the large window, glass raining down onto the ground like sharpened tears.

Without any hesitation Diavolo, holding onto Lucifer's unconscious body like it was the most precious thing in the world, stepped onto the window sill and leapt off the edge. Big, leathery wings carried the both of them through the glowing lights of dusk.

Diavolo was getting Lucifer the help he so urgently needed and after that, he would find out what was going on with the demon he loved so ferociously.

It was time to face the facts. Diavolo couldn't keep on living in this false state of ignorance anymore. There was something going on with Lucifer, and as his closest friend and superior, it was Diavolo's job to find out exactly what that was.

There was still blood running down Lucifer's terrifyingly pale face as they landed safely next to a hidden cottage in the woods. They must have made quite the sight, the demon prince himself covered in blood, dishevelled by the wind, his right hand man Lucifer cradled in his strong arms, unconscious and certainly unwell.

Diavolo's heart was beating ever so quickly as he knocked on the door, his body coming down from the adrenaline as he waited impatiently.

Finally, he could make out movement from behind the door before there was the sound of a key turning in its lock and a head of pretty red curls peeked through the doorway. “Lord Diavolo?” the woman asked incredulously before her eyes moved downwards and landed on Lucifer's lifeless form.

“Oh gee!” Quickly, she turned her head around and shouted towards someone inside of the house. “Darling, I told you this was going to happen! It's Mister Lucifer, you know, the one from before!” She opened the door and motioned Diavolo to come inside. Diavolo simply followed suit. There would be time to ask questions later. Right now, his priority was Lucifer and nothing else.

A second woman hurried down the hallway, seemingly unimpressed by the picture in front of her as she quickly put on a pair of medical gloves. “Follow me.”

Diavolo followed her into what seemed to be an examination room. Although it was strange this woman had such a room inside of her own home, he decided to keep quiet about it for the moment.

“Put him down.”

Diavolo did as he was told and reluctantly took a step back as Doctor Naamah started to check Lucifer's vitals before treating his head wound. “Normally, I would have to ask you to leave the room, but considering the situation I'll make an exception,” Naamah muttered as she hurried across the room, yanking open several drawers in search of  the correct medical supplies.

Diavolo leaned his back against the wall as he focused on the way Lucifer's chest rose and sank with every breath he took.

As he pushed back his hair, breathy laughter escaped his lips. “You couldn't get rid of me if you tried,” he said.

Naamah raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “My Lord, you better not test me.” There was a short moment of silence as she finished treating Lucifer's head wound. “He will be alright,” she started. “He is a fool, but he will be alright.” She beckoned Diavolo closer. “Lend me a hand here, I have to check his sigil.”

Diavolo halted in his steps. “What sigil, doctor?”

Quickly, Naamah's gaze shot upwards. “You don't know?” she asked incredulously. “Aren't you his superior? I made sure to give you a call about it since I put him on MagiMeds.”

He moved closer to Lucifer's body and helped the doctor turn him onto his side as his brain tried to process what had just been revealed to him. “My butler handles these sorts of things,” he eventually muttered.

Naamah pulled Lucifer's collar down as quickly as one would pull off a band aid, revealing a dark red sigil, tainted with splotchy black blots. “Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed in either surprise or shock, Diavolo wasn't too sure which one would've been more appropriate.

His head snapped around to the doctor as she examined the mark with careful fingers. Eventually, she sat up straight and faced Diavolo. “He is even more of a fool than I'd originally expected.”

For once, Diavolo found himself at a loss for words. His eyes were glued onto the alluring sigil on the back of Lucifer's neck. It all made sense now.

Before he could even think about it, his body moved on its own and he reached out, fingertips running along the pretty edges of this tainted sigil.

Naamah watched Diavolo closely as he had eyes for nothing but that ornate little thing on the back of Lucifer's neck. And just as his fingers had reached the epicentre of the sigil, Diavolo could feel a rush of electricity running through his body.

With a startle, Lucifer suddenly and unexpectedly awoke.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9, Chapter 10