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vminity21 · 2 years

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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.

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fuck-you-upmusicbracket · 8 months

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Keep Quiet (The Protomen)

They say: (This city)/This city (She's been dead)/She's been dead for years now (For years now)/For years now (For years now)/So death is (So death is)/Not something (Not something )/Not something that scares me (That scares me)/That scares me

"Joe, the protagonist of act 2, has grown up under the oppressive regime of Dr. Wily. He's grown up under the false prosperity, under the implicit threat of robot violence. After over a decade of that, he decides to do something about it, driving off into the night, luring the robot that tracks dissenters after him. He ends up facing it in an alley, staring down the specter of death that's haunted him his entire life. This song is that moment. And then he manages to 'kill' the machine, and realizes that it's not the end. There will surely be more, and even if he's free for now, everyone else he's ever known is not. The final robotic chorus is enforcing that oppressive regime's hold, foreshadowing the struggle and loss ahead."

Good Kid (The Lightning Thief)

And no friends,/And no hope,/And no mom!/... She's taken away.

"When I went through my musical phase, this song lived in my mind rent free. The short silence after Percy yells "And no mom!", Just. AMAZING angst potential for any animatics"

Poll Runner: I never read Percy Jackson or anything, but the musical is FIRE. This song is especially sad, Percy just found his place, and feels like he's about to lose it all over again, which reminds him of all he's lost, and how he feels like a screw up for being kicked out of so many schools, his breakdown culminating in his grief over the loss of his mother. And yes, it's absolutely perfect for projecting onto OCs

Keep Quiet submitted by @demimonde-semigoddess

#fuck you up bracket #tournament #polls #the protomen #the lightning thief

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luminitewrites · 1 year

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In a Different Light: Scene Two

Back with part two of the Sleuth Jesters!actor AU! AO3 link is above, but the entire chapter will also be included below, as usual. And of course, many thanks to @naffeclipse for these characters who have lived rent free in my head for months now hehe <3

Hope you all enjoy! It's time for those other kisses.

Rating: T Word Count: ~23,300 Content Warnings: Very mildly suggestive content Summary: The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

As he says this, he reaches up and hooks a finger underneath one of the straps. His air is nothing short of coy, like an idea has just taken shape in his devious mind, and he slowly eases the fabric across his shoulder, flirting with slipping it over the edge. A curled metal digit suggestively rubs the suspender. It would probably have a much greater effect on you if his little show wasn’t currently being backed by cheery elevator music, and that alone has your lips spasmodically twitching.

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

~~~

The city streets on New Year’s Eve paint a scene of winter white awash in the pale yellow shine from stores and lampposts. Strings of warm lights keep the sidewalks appearing deceptively cozy, but you know that just beyond the cold glass of the car window is an even brutally colder world. The temperature at last dipped to the single digits today, and with the sun having just disappeared below the horizon, casting the sky in a dark blue and gray mix, everything will freeze over tonight.

Craning your neck so that you can see the sky better, you know that the heavy darkness that greets you from above holds layers of clouds thick with snow. The forecast you caught a glimpse of on the TV before Moon had ushered you out of your home stated that the snowfall accumulation was anticipated to reach an extra five inches.

Probable reason to stay indoors. That hasn’t stopped your work party from staying on schedule at some ritzy, swanky hotel the city is known for, and nothing short of a disaster will impede the event. The show must go on, or so the producer had said. Attendance isn’t mandatory, as today is a company-observed holiday, but it is heavily encouraged since the one previously planned earlier had to be postponed to tonight. Maybe you’re the fool for going to this one, but you’ve actually been really looking forward to it. It’s a chance to celebrate with everyone all the hard work they’ve put into each scene. When the final episode of your team’s triumphant efforts airs, another party will be due, but this one feels extra special despite filming not being done yet. You’re welcoming in the new year together, and after all the time you’ve spent getting to know your coworkers, not going to the party held tonight would feel like you’re missing out immensely. You need this reprieve just as much as everyone else does.

And… well. The present company attending the party certainly factors into your desire to go. One-third of your favorite attendees sits next to you now, and you pull away from the window of the car to peer at Moon instead.

The beloved hat from his detective costume remains firm on his head—the sole piece he seems to have grown a deep attachment to. It suits him well and almost makes you feel like you’re still in the middle of a shoot, acting out a scene with Detective Moon in his patrol car as you scour the city together.

His gloved hands rest on the wheel, and his eyes remain fixated on the road ahead. A very good thing, given his typical driving habits and the fact that you’re sure he knows most of the city police by name now. Not by choice either. That’s exactly why you didn’t relay to Sun or Eclipse how you were getting to the party until you’d fastened your seatbelt. For one, when Moon had offered to come pick you up and escort you to the hotel, how could you have possibly said no to that? It sure beats paying for an expensive lift to the event. For another, the texts you’ve since received are nothing short of concerned. After the string of praying emojis Sun had posted in the group chat, you’d decided to just put away your phone for the time being.

You’ll be fine. Moon hasn’t hit any obstacles yet, literal or figurative, though that was a bit of a close brush with a tree he had on that last turn.

As he often does, he senses your eyes on him without needing to check.

“I can feel your stare digging into my faceplate. What is it?” His voice starts out in that soft grumble you’ve come to adore, but then his low pitch lifts to a little more lilting—a tease. “See something you like, maybe?”

The instinctive response that wants to clamber out of your throat is quickly choked down. Even though he’s the one who’s mentioned it, you suspect he has no idea. You’ve long since soared past “liking” him. That conversation you had with Eclipse weeks ago has not left your thoughts since. Every day at work, every night in bed, you’ve thought about what he’d said. What he’d done. You now know that the attraction you feel for the others is not just in your head. That part is indisputable. Having a relationship with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse is appealing to you in no small amount. You just needed the time to realize that on your own and make sure that this attraction wasn’t only a passing fancy.

Judging by how every single one of your waking thoughts has been centered on them for countless hours, you’re pretty sure you have your answer.

In a rare burst of what’s either bravery or stupidity, you decide to throw caution to wind. Your fingers wiggle as they sneak over Moon’s arm that’s closest to you and then dip around his wrist. There is a flash of red as he briefly glances away from the snowy roads, but he has to snap his attention back to the traffic around him. A car honks not too far away.

Honey couldn’t be sweeter than the smile that curls up your face.

Buoyantly, like you haven’t spent hours agonizing over how to approach your feelings for him, you say in a singsong, airy tone, “I might.”

Moon chuffs. His dry amusement at your antics never fails in elevating your mood, though you couldn’t be happier as it is. You squeeze his wrist playfully, and his hand clenches around the steering wheel. Only a matter of time now.

The swish of the windshield wipers fills the quiet, broken only by the clicking of the turning signal as Moon takes a harrowing left. You’re honestly surprised he remembered to signal at all. His fingers drum atop the wheel while his processor tries to determine if this is a game worth playing. He knows as well as you just how risky diverting any of his fleeting attention from driving is, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t against having a fun time.

Your fingers skirt along the edge of his glove, cheekily dipping in just an inch, and Moon shakes his head.

“You’re betting your life, piccolina.”

You wrinkle your nose at the pet name.

“I’m not that small.”

Moon, contrary to his trepidation, lifts the hand you’ve been toying with off of the steering wheel just to give you a so-so gesture. You snatch the opportunity to claim your prize, but you get the impression that Moon purposely lets you take his hand. His glove creaks as leather intertwines with your own fingers, lacing together and squeezing.

You beam proudly at your catch, and Moon rubs his thumb across your knuckles. He thankfully doesn’t look away from the streets, so you take full advantage of smiling at him and enjoying the moment with your friend. Moon’s presence always embodies a sort of calm that lulls you. He’s someone you can sit with in quiet and not worry about filling the space with words. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up from snoozing on his shoulder. Whenever that happens, you always apologize profusely, but for some reason, it just keeps repeating itself, and Moon thoroughly basks in it—both in getting you to relax that much and also being able to razz you relentlessly about it when you wake up.

You suppose it’s a small price to pay.

“Comfortable?” your companion’s voicebox thrums.

Yes. Very much so. Incredibly so, in fact. But you can’t say that because you don’t want to drop the teasing nature that Moon evokes. The kindness in the simple question wraps around you like a warm hug.

“I suppose,” you trail off with a shrug, and though Moon isn’t even peeking at you, he can certainly see the movement in his peripheral.

He flicks the signal again when he reaches his next turn. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s signaling in the wrong direction though because at least he remembered to do it, and that’s what counts. As he slowly twists the wheel with only one hand, you hold your breath and hope some of the praying emojis Sun spammed in the group chat have a good effect. The tires skid a little in the slush of the road, but Moon miraculously doesn’t lose control, and he navigates onto the next street without further incident.

You breathe again.

“You suppose?” Moon drawls now that he’s not intensely focused on not crashing into a pedestrian or oncoming traffic. Or not as focused, you should say.

“Mhm.” You tap your free hand on your thigh and assess the current arrangement that begs to be malleable and crafted to your liking. An idea begins to form.

You glance at the time on the dash. The party started a half-hour ago, which means you and Moon are already late. It’s fifty-fifty on who’s to blame for that one, so you don’t really feel too bad. What’s a few more minutes? Granted, his brothers will probably begin a search party if you don’t show up soon, but you’ll take that gamble.

“So I was thinking,” you cautiously open with, and the words roll across your tongue as you draw them out.

Moon groans.

With a dour metaphorical tongue, he drones, “Here we go.”

He’s already clued in on what you’re doing, and you have to bite your own tongue to stop the laugh that wants to come out when he tightens his grip on your hand. Depending on his mood and how charitable he’s feeling, the lunar animatronic can be swayed by your charm into going along with some scheme or another as long as it’s legal. Often, he’s one-half of the voices of reason in keeping you in line while another brother backs him up (the third being more easily swayed by your wily ways, and you’re not going to name names, but it’s Sun). However, Moon is overlooking one important fact: He’s currently alone with you. You don’t need much more than that.

The seconds drag on as Moon waits for you to lay out your clearly devilish scheme befitting only the worst of criminals. When it becomes apparent that you won’t, he gives another synthetic groan that is entirely disproportionate to the situation at hand, and at the next red light, he comes to a full stop only a little past the white line. Then, he turns to you.

“What is it you want?” he gruffly demands, like you’re about to ask him to commit petty crimes with you again.

Honestly. You’d only asked him that once, and that was just because you’d wanted to see if the vigilante style would suit you in this life too. Moon had acted like you’d offered to start a mob instead, the very opposite of what you were going for, and you think that maybe playing detective has gotten a little too into his head because he’d threatened to turn you over to the cops he apparently knows so well if he caught you doing anything nefarious.

Maybe you should have approached Sun first about that. He seems more like the type to let you do some shady Robin Hood-esque business while covering for you.

But a little vigilantism isn’t on your plate tonight. Instead, you flutter your eyelashes at Moon, teeth peeking past your lips as you lose the fight in controlling your smile.

“I’d like a coffee please.”

A few more seconds of silence. His eyes don’t leave you for any of it, but you can practically see the mathematical formulas floating past him as he tries to parse for anything illegal in your request.

Slowly, like he’s defusing a bomb, he says, “I’m sure they’ll have that at the party.”

To that, you then amend, “Yes, but I’d like a specialty coffee.”

“…And this coffee would be special how?”

“Because you’ll stop at that really good café a few blocks from the hotel to get it for me?”

It comes out as a question, but your hopefulness is tinged well throughout. You’d clasp your hands in front of your chest if you weren’t already holding his.

Moon is sometimes difficult to get a read on, and even with no distractions around you, you can’t quite discern if he’s on your side this time. He searches your face like he’s studying some ancient script, committing lines to memory. His thumb still hasn’t stopped the soothing paths it follows across your hand.

Two quick presses to a car horn from behind jolt you and Moon. He resumes driving again, focusing back on the snowy road, and you reluctantly accept that you won’t get your way this time. That’s okay. Disappointing, but you can’t win them all. You’ll finagle things into your favor next—

“Tell me where to go,” comes the defeated exhale from your beloved companion.

You resist the wild urge to cheer and instead gleefully direct him to your new destination. It doesn’t take long to find it at all since the shop is directly along your current route. Incredibly, it’s still open even this evening—just what you were hoping for. Since the storm has begun to worsen, few people are out and about, which means rare street parking is open. Moon pulls into a space that is just a little ahead of the café, and you give his parallel parking the compliment that is due.

He’s actually really far from the curb in a way that would have not flown if he were taking his driver’s test, but there’s enough room for other cars to squeeze past his if need be. So you’re still proud of him. He gives you a sort of suspicious, sideways frown, but you can tell from the bashful hunch of his shoulders that he’s preening at the attention nonetheless.

Whoever approved his driver’s license is either an angel or an advocate for causing trouble.

You offer to go into the café alone, but he quickly shuts that down and tells you to give him your drink order instead. You reluctantly do, and as you’re rummaging in your coat pocket to give him money for the drink, he’s already out the door and telling you to stay put. The door then slams shut, and Moon hurries through whirling snow to the well-lit doors of the café.

Slumping in your heated seat with an exasperated sigh, you watch him with fondness budding in your chest. He left the car running so you wouldn’t be left in the cold—just another gesture that makes you feel odd inside. Like you’re restless and full of energy that you don’t know what to do with. You’re overflowing with affection for someone you hadn’t known until just months ago, and now, you consider him to be one of your best friends.

For some reason, your head is spinning with emotion.

In the cozy interior of the car, you watch through the snowflakes dotting the passenger window as Moon’s dark silhouette flutters about in the store. The edge of his thick overcoat sweeps around the back of his knees, and the hat he stole from set casts most of his head in shadow. You don’t think he ever intends to part with it. Maybe you should take a page from his book and nab some spare ribbon and bells when all is said and done. The character you play isn’t you, but you can’t help the connection you’ve developed with the vigilante over time. Parting from the show without taking a memento seems wrong. After all, it’s this role that led you to meeting some truly amazing people.

Moon wraps up with the order in little to no time and hustles back to the car as fast as his spindly legs will carry him. The winter wind whooshes inside the car when he opens the door and scurries inside. Just as quickly, the door shuts behind him, and he whistles from the cold shock.

“Might become a block of ice if it gets any chillier out there,” he hisses in a fizzle of static. “I can feel the snow getting in my joints.”

“Don’t worry, mon clair de lune,” you reassure, cranking up the heat to full blast for him. “I’ll be sure to warm you up before you become an icicle.”

“Believe that is my job,” Moon drawls, and he passes you a deliciously smelling to-go cup. “Here.”

He presses the hot cup of coffee into your waiting hands, and you greedily latch onto it while wholeheartedly extending your gratitude.

The aromatic sweetness hits your nostrils fully as you take a deep breath. Pure delight runs through your blood, and you hastily take a very long drag from the wonderful drink, swishing the steaming liquid around on your tongue before swallowing.

“Oh, I could kiss you right now,” you whisper into the lid of your coffee.

Thoroughly savoring the taste of your next sip, your eyelids flutter closed as the heat penetrates that frosty layer that had been persistently clinging fast. This is exactly what you needed. After another deep breath to relish in the richness, you glimpse over to find Moon’s pleased optics on you, soft and as warm as your drink. His smile is small, like he isn’t aware of it. But it changes before you can get a good look, and a familiar slyness overtakes all else.

“What’s stopping you?” he brazenly needles. He’s just playing around again, a harmless prod, but his innocuous question makes you pause like a deer in headlights.

Your hands are warmed by your to-go cup, the wind is whipping at a brisk pace outside the car, and your heart is abruptly thump, thump, thumping away in your chest at a breakneck speed that rivals the December gust.

Such a small, simple, harmless question makes something apparent to you then. There’s no one here but you and him, nothing else to demand your attention. Nothing to hold you back or make you doubt yourself or put you on the spot. It’s just you and the sweet lunar animatronic you hold very dear to your heart.

In this brief ounce of privacy between you and him, you feel a touch braver than usual.

“You know…” your voice mumbles, more to yourself than him, “I can’t really think of anything that is.”

The kiss—correction: two kisses—from Eclipse a few short weeks ago flashes in your mind. He hasn’t pushed once since giving you time to think about it, about how you feel about him. His brothers. A relationship with all three. You’ve been given time to consider fostering that with each of them if your heart yearns for your friends as much as you now know they yearn for you. It hadn’t quite clicked before the reveal that they wanted you. Since Eclipse’s confession, it’s never felt more real, and the way each of them act around you should have clued you in much sooner.

At least you know better now. There’s no writing off the lingering looks or touches or the words that sometimes carry a heavy tint to them. No, they all have meaning finally, and it’s felt like agony forcing yourself to slow down and think things through in the events leading up tonight.

The only one who’s pumping the breaks is you. Nothing is keeping you from just… letting go. No one is here to be a voice of reason as Moon sits beside you, closer than he’s been in weeks. Eclipse said he’d let his brothers speak for themselves about their feelings, but they’ve seemed to avoid the topic out of courtesy to you. No doubt their big brother told them about the moment he’d shared with you in that small alcove under a snowy night, much like tonight. Ball’s in your court now, and you have the chance to play.

You know what your heart wants. You’re sure of it.

So it’s a natural, easy choice for you to give in to the temptation whispering in your ear to stop resisting and just close the distance.

Moon doesn’t move an inch as you lower your drink in one hand and near, the only indication of him realizing what’s coming shown in the widening of his eyes.

With a small sweep of your fingers, you tip back your detective’s hat, hesitating only a moment to wait for any signs of discomfort from either you or him. Finding none but only the giddy anticipation coiling in your stomach and the inviting, subtle lean Moon makes in your direction, you slowly lid your gaze shut, tune out the pounding in your ears, and brush your lips against the cold metal of his cheek.

They demurely curl upward at the crackling gasp he emits. The sound has you wanting to stay, wanting to hear it again. You settle for trailing a ghost of another kiss just along that delicate swirl of metal. Before he can have a chance to react beyond that and before you can start second-guessing your actions, you pull away. Your heart won’t stop racing. It feels like your body is hardly contained to your seat at all and that you’ll glide away if you breathe too hard.

Moon’s dark pupils are blown incredibly large and round. His reaction is exactly what you were hoping for, and a small burst of pride wells behind your sternum. You did that. You made him react that way. You.

It’s a small tick in your confidence category, but even greater is the joy that grows wings and takes flight with you on its back. Moon gapes at you like you’re from the stars above, and you’ve never seen him stare at you like that before, but it’s already strengthening the heat in your cheeks.

You give him a moment to process and then delicately clear your throat.

“Shall we get going?” you ask your silent companion in an attempt to play coy. Internally, you’re a fumbling mess of a human who’s running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. The coffee cup trembles in your hand.

Even with your little prodding, he doesn’t seem to quite come out of whatever spell you’ve accidentally tossed him under. Well. Not entirely on accident. You very much kissed him on purpose.

Moon releases a thin hiss of air, like his cooling components are working overtime. He blinks once. Twice.

“What was that for?” he finally utters with tangible awe, but it’s little more than a breath. His voice could melt you into a puddle right in your seat.

You think back to what Eclipse said to you that night at the start of the month. A helpless shrug lifts your shoulders.

“Oh, you know. Just felt like getting a head start on the new year’s tradition.” Then, to make sure he’s on the same page as you, you add, “I take it Eclipse told you what happened a few weeks ago. About… testing the waters.”

Instead of scoffing, Moon softens almost imperceptibly. You’re starting to think he has no intentions of ever looking away. He lifts a hand towards you but then hesitates. Searches you for something you aren’t sure of. You lean your head to the side in invitation, and his hand cups your face much like Eclipse’s had.

In a sotto voce tone that crawls into your bones and makes its home there, he murmurs, “Clip asked us to give you time. That you wanted to think about it first. That’s why I—why we haven’t said anything. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m not interested. Because I am. Interested, that is. Very much. In a way that’s probably more eloquent than I am when I’m around you.”

He gives an adorable little giggle that betrays his nervousness, and you titter alongside him.

Unable to not rib him just a little, you say, “Why, Detective Moon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were feeling shy.”

“Funny. Don’t get used to it,” he warns, but he’s smiling as he does.

It feels good to know that you’re not the only one off your game at this. Makes it more lighthearted. No perfect lines or filtered dialogue like in front of the camera. The mask is off, and the sight you’re seeing beneath it is even more precious to you.

Moon takes a moment to process his next words, and you can tell by the thin whine stemming from his chassis that he’s heavily considering them. You stay quiet as you wait, and when his brow furrows, you know he’s settled whatever internal debate he was warring with.

The chilled hand is slowly warming at your cheek. The emotion on his face runs parallel to what’s been burning in your heart all this time.

“Would you mind if I got a head start too?” he tentatively asks.

There’s no ignoring the knot in your throat. Your stomach is flooded with antsy excitement, and you try to tuck away an errant strand of hair that keeps falling out of place. You feel like you’re shaking from nerves and eagerness. Imagining this exact moment playing out in your head for the past few weeks is very different from suddenly living it now.

You do your best to hide the thrilled tremor in your voice.

“I don’t see why not.”

The words probably don’t come across as confident or unaffected as you’d like, but then Moon is swiping away that loose bit of hair just as easily as he does so your thoughts. You feel him tuck it behind your ear, his fingers brushing back against your cheek a second time before sneaking around to the back of your scalp.

No resistance is offered when he pulls you close. You let your eyelids fall shut again just in time to shiver at the effervescent tap of his permanent grin to the very small corner of your lips, once again surprising you with the location of the kiss, though you won’t complain one bit about that. He doesn’t keep you for very long, but it’s enough that you have to let out a ragged breath that’s been building up ever since he teased you. His kiss leaves you spinning. That’s two for two that you’ve been caught off guard by a romantic display of affection. Well-played.

He shifts back some so that you can make eye contact—a simple task that you are now failing miserably at with impeccable odds.

You feel faint from the swell of emotion that this animatronic manages to pull to the surface with just a single kiss.

A flighty exhale precedes your shaky voice.

“Would it be cliché if I said ‘wow’ after that?”

Moon’s answering smile shines with elation. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the often stoic animatronic so profusely happy.

But before you can dwell on that, something else then catches your notice from his proximity. You scoot back in a little closer, safely preserving in your memory the tiny noise of shock Moon makes so that you can reflect on it later.

You take a deep breath in, and your curiosity momentarily beats out your fidgety nerves.

“Hang on. Is that… cologne?” you mutter, inhaling another whiff to confirm before leaning back, stunned at your findings. “Did you put on cologne tonight?”

Moon shifts again. Seems you’re not the only one feeling fidgety.

“Why do you ask?” he hedges cautiously, black pupils shifting, and you almost think he sounds defensive until his hand leaves your cheek. His fingers disappear into the insides of his coat, rummaging for something out of your view until he then pulls out—to your complete and incredulous astonishment—a can of WD-40.

He gives it a tiny shake.

“Did you want to use some too?”

In all your daydreams, there were a few things you had imagined happening right after you kissed Moon. Some gentle words. A hug, maybe. In the more risqué scenarios, an inability to breathe as he kissed you senseless again and again. All of those had seemed like viable options on the table of your secret hypotheses.

This, though. This was definitely not one of them, and you are baffled. You refuse to believe he just happened to have that can on him out of complete coincidence. It’s purely inconceivable.

You have to tell him as much.

“You have not been carrying that around all day just for the sake of making that joke.”

Moon’s faceplate rotates several degrees. He squints at you suspiciously. Contemplates the deep meaning of the universe, judging by how long he stays silent. Then, he casually hits you with a bombshell.

“You seem like you could use it.”

Your jaw scrapes the floor.

“Excuse me?! Are you implying that I smell?”

“…‘Implying’ is a rather interesting word choice.”

“Moon!”

Any reservations you might have had are banished by the lurching urge to snatch his beloved little hat from his bald little head and chuck it outside. His self-satisifed aura tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Before you can think of some wisecrack to put the cretin back in his place, Moon smoothly clarifies, “You smell nice. You always do, actually. It’s light and sweet. Pleasant.” He gently pokes the can’s nozzle against your shoulder. “Just like you.”

You’re left speechless for the second time in as many seconds. Your brain is struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire changes, so you sit there useless for a few moments while trying to think of what to say.

It’s a little unexpected, is all.

Moon appears to be none the worse for wear. He enjoys your surprise for a bit more and then continues on.

“That’s why I put on something nice-smelling too. Or at least what seems to be popular among you humans. Just wanted to put in a little extra effort. For you. Not the WD-40 though, sorry. That’s only for emergencies.”

While still very unexpected, the reasoning is enough to somewhat loosen your twisted tongue.

“Emergencies,” you parrot, deadpan.

Moon nods. He surreptitiously sets the can behind you on the floor of the backseat.

After another extended beat, a snort escapes you, your face falls into your hand, and your nostrils flare with your amused exhale. Moon’s fans whir a little louder at the sound, and you sigh again before peeking at him through your fingers.

“You’re a dork, you know that? A buffoon.”

The gremlin is practically vibrating in his seat.

“One might even say I’m a jester.” He waggles his brows. “A sleuth jester.”

“Yeah, one might not.”

Your hand falls from your head. You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Clown behavior. That was terrible and unfunny.”

“Wanna see a magic trick?” he asks with glee.

“No,” you bark out around a loud laugh, and he snickers happily.

You sit together in the warm comfort of the car, and the sense of longing draws you into a contemplative quiet while you watch him, and he does much the same. Your smile is going to wear out from all this use it’s been getting, but you don’t mind at all how effortlessly Moon summons it. He has to do very little to tug that giddiness to the surface. A fact that you’ve taken special notice of more so lately.

His attentiveness is apparent even in his actions, and you want to address that.

“For the record,” you say, more muted than earlier so that Moon hears the subdued seriousness in your voice, “I just want you to know that while you putting in extra effort is really sweet and appreciated, it’s also not strictly necessary. I don’t expect you to go out of your way for me. Getting to spend time with you is more than enough already. You don’t need to change anything about yourself to please me.”

The ruby glow dims a little, and Moon’s hands fiddle with the edge of his coat. You have the sneaking suspicion that if he could blush, his cheeks would be matching his optics right about now.

“I know,” he says back, equally gentle. “Actually, that is part of what endeared you to me. The fact that you don’t care that I’m—that any of us are animatronics and have different functions or needs or even lack of needs that humans do have. But I also know that it’s a custom to put in a little extra effort for someone you care about… someone you might be considering building a relationship with.”

His admission presses down like a leaden weight on your tongue.

“Moon…”

You’re not sure what to follow that with. You wish you could express everything that his heartfelt words are doing to you and how they threaten to stop your heart in its tracks if it keeps missing a beat.

What you do manage to say, gingerly, is much smaller in comparison than everything you want to express, but it’s a start.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and try to focus past that. Moon waits for you to continue with a silent understanding in his demeanor that speaks volumes. A bit meekly, you say, “I doubt it’s much of a secret anymore how I feel about pursuing that with you, Sun, and Eclipse, huh?”

His hands stop playing with his coat. The crescent splitting the dark sapphire blue and lustrous silver of his faceplate curves an elegant sweep along the metal craftsmanship, and you are reminded not for the first time that Moon is beautiful. In your mind’s eye, you trace an imaginary line around the smooth curls and hidden divots, every slight highlight and blemish and silver scratch. With your imagination taking flight, you are met with a fantasy not unlike the one you’d had of Sun weeks ago. In this one, you sit in Moon’s lap, cradling the lower half of his faceplate in your hands, and your lips find those intricacies to lay a kiss on, to bestow your affection. His own hands paint a delicate dance that rides up the back of your shirt while he flirts with the edges of it.

It’s just as intimate and gripping, and it leaves you shuddering in your seat. As you blink, and the scene dissipates.

You want that. You want it a lot. There’s not a shadow of a doubt in you about that. No shying from the truth now.

All you have to do is take the next step forward into the others’ waiting arms.

Moon doesn’t reply, which you think you appreciate more than a verbal confirmation. He leans away from you back into his seat much to your disappointment and blinks slowly, a languid relaxation to his serene expression. As far as he’s concerned, there’s seemingly no one else in the world now but you and him.

You're tempted. You doubt he’d say no to letting you test the waters with more than just the tips of your toes. But the snow is falling, and you have a party to get to, and you can’t remain frozen forever in this moment. It’s hard to remember your other obligations, but you manage to peel your gaze away.

“We should—” you swallow around your voice crack and clear your throat. “We should probably get going. To the party and all that.”

A rumbling respiration stems from Moon’s metal chassis. The lunar brother reluctantly shakes off his daze, muttering some indiscernible words to himself, and he sets the car back into motion down the street. The hotel isn’t far now, just up ahead and poking through the cloud of dark gray and white whirling outside. Even still, it surprises you when there’s a subtle tug on your wrist.

Moon’s fingers curl around you, slipping one hand free of your cup so that he can grasp it. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, but you don’t need to. His fierce focus on the wet and slushy roads tells you all.

When he pulls up to the hotel’s overhang, the valet draws up to his side to discuss parking. You tune them out in favor of enjoying the two points of warmth in your hands, one around your coffee and the other ensnared in leather. All too soon, Moon lets go and gets out to let the valet take over.

You gather your things and tighten your coat around your waist. In that very short time frame, your door is then swung open, and Moon gives a debonair dip to hold out a hand to you, his other arm behind his back.

“I believe I offered to escort you in,” he remarks with a tinge of coyness. It seems he’s getting a little of that spark back after your moment together.

Your surprised sound at the unexpected gesture threatens to oust you, but you do your best to keep your cool.

“Such a gentleman,” you croon.

His low brush of laughter makes the cold feel not as strong on your cheeks as he helps you out of the car, the heels of your shoes wobbling on the cobblestone until you find your balance. His eyes reflect the twinkling golden ambience of the city lights around you, warm and delighted. They brighten even more when he offers you his arm and you take it happily, shivering from the cold that cuts through the tailored fabric of your suit pants.

Together, you and Moon enter the skyscraper hotel, and after showing your identification to the personnel and each being given some sort of pass, you are fast directed to the second floor where the holiday party is being held. In the elevator, you can’t seem to bring yourself to let go of Moon’s arm. He doesn’t seem too keen on letting you go either. His other gloved hand rests smoothly atop your own as if to keep you there.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open, a symphony of music and conversation greets you. The noise would normally grate against your ears, but with the calm presence of your friend guiding you into the chaos, your shoulders stay relaxed and your steps sure. Several coworkers take notice of your entrance and nod or raise their glasses in celebratory welcome. You wave to your colleagues, but you search for someone else. Technically two someones, but in this crowd, you know you won’t have to look long.

Moon steers you towards the left of the floor where open double doors lead into the main hub of activity. There’s another check-in desk there, but you and Moon only have to flash your name badges to be waved on in. The room echoes the same noise and bustling activity just outside it, with more of the film and production crew milling about and enjoying themselves. Lifting your head, you get a waft of what can only be delicious food, and you absentmindedly let out a pitiful whine as your stomach grumbles.

Soft snickering from above pulls your attention, and you glare at Moon. His merriment shines wide in his teeth.

“Do we need to take a quick detour?” he asks, reading you in a heartbeat.

You release a pained sigh.

“No, I can wait. Let’s find your brothers first.”

“Already done.” Moon points to a table off in the corner, and sure enough, twin sets of rays, one yellow and the other blue and purple, peek out from the chairs. Both are facing away from you since they’re sitting beside each other, so they haven’t noticed your arrival yet, something your feet seem keen on remedying as they hasten over to your friends. You end up dragging Moon along for the ride, but he’s quick to catch himself and match your speed.

Sun and Eclipse appear in deep conversation, the former chattering enthusiastically while the latter answers more slowly, slouched against the wall next to his chair and a hand shadowing his optics. You can’t help but admire how the sharp suits and ties they wear fit them both very attractively, though Sun’s already discarded his coat on the back of his chair. Eclipse catches sight of you and Moon first, and he gives a little wave that makes you accidentally clench Moon’s hand and causes Sun to spin to see you as well just as you reach them.

“It’s about time you got here!” he exclaims. “We were just about to start dinner without you.”

You tut in skeptical disbelief, saying, “A likely story. You can’t even eat, which… makes me wonder. Why are you holding a glass?”

Sun looks at the flute in his hand then back at you.

“What, this? It’s champagne. One of the waitstaff gave it to me, so now I’m trying to blend in. Is it working?”

From over your shoulder, Moon says, “Considering that you start to act tipsy whenever a certain special someone is around, I’d say you fit right in.”

You dutifully ignore Sun’s indignant squeak because your attention is quickly arrested elsewhere. In one chivalrous motion, Moon slips away from your side to pull out a chair for you. Your head ducks as the temperature of the room inches up a couple of degrees, and it only grows stronger when he helps you shed your heavy coat to drape it over the back of the chair. You murmur your thanks and slide into a seat across from Eclipse, Moon pushing your chair back in. He answers with a hum of acknowledgement and takes the one next to you.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to focus on what he’d just said.

“So who’s the special someone?”

Eclipse snorts loudly, and you tilt your head at him, confused. Sun rubs a hand over his optics with a groan. You can hear his internal fans kick on from over here.

The brother sitting next to you is the only one to take pity on you, but his amusement could be classified as tangible.

“I was referring to you, sweetness.”

“Oh.” Your mouth might be hanging a little open, but you can’t be blamed for it. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting. Actually, there are a lot of things happening tonight that you weren’t expecting, and you have a sneaking suspicion they’d be obvious to literally anyone else. “I hadn’t, ah, noticed.”

“Really?” Moon’s voice is dry, intoning more of a statement than a question.

“Don’t be rude,” Sun chastises Moon, but you think that might be because he’s just still embarrassed from his brother’s remark. “They haven’t eaten yet. You can’t be mean to someone with an empty stomach. It’s bad manners.”

Eclipse squints at him.

“How is that considered bad manners, but not the whole being mean part in general?”

“Because I don’t want to exempt myself from being allowed to get on the nerves of my big brother.” Sun turns back to Moon. “Stop kicking me under the table.”

“Move your damn big feet then,” Moon fires back, slumping deliberately in his seat.

The table shudders with a jarring bang, and you carefully tuck your legs close to your chair to avoid catching any crossfire of the sudden battle happening under the white tablecloth. You share a knowing look with Eclipse, and the dazed tiredness in his gaze makes you smile.

He sighs.

“Did you have a safe drive here?”

Was Moon a safe driver for once, is what he’s really asking. You rest your chin in your hand and lean forward.

“It was a nice, smooth ride,” you muse, fingers curling around your coffee cup. “My chauffeur knew some tricks that made the trip seem to go by so much faster. Feels like we got here in no time at all.”

Eclipse sighs and briefly closes his eyes as if calling upon divine intervention. You think if he had an actual nose, he’d be pinching the bridge of it.

“How many red lights did he run?”

“None,” Moon says, rejoining the conversation as if he and Sun weren’t just engaged in a slapdash battle of footsie. “I take care of my passengers and ensure their safety at all costs.”

“Past experience and numerous police tickets say otherwise,” Eclipse returns wryly.

Moon’s grin sharpens.

“Performance is based on tips.”

Pupils as black as midnight peer out once more, flicking between you and Moon in confusion before settling on you.

“And did you… tip him?”

You give Eclipse a conspiratorial wink.

“I held his hand while he drove us here.”

“Mercy.” Sun recoils, absolutely appalled. “You risked him driving with only one hand on the wheel, and in this weather? Are you perhaps feeling unwell?”

“If you try to suggest putting your fingers in my mouth again, we’re gonna have a problem, and that’s a threat.” You point at Sun for emphasis, and he pretends you’re holding him at gunpoint, his hands flying up in a pacifying manner. One of your eyes squeezes shut, and you mime shooting, which makes him slump back dramatically in his seat like you got him square in the chest. You shake your head, lips twitching upward while Sun straightens again. “I’m not sick, but I am hungry. Actually, I think I’m gonna go grab some food before it’s all gone.”

“Allow me,” Eclipse says, and it’s not a question. He rises to his feet.

You consider getting up anyways just for the principle of the matter, but a single finger pointing at you to sit back down is enough to have you settling in your chair with a fake pout.

While buttoning his suit coat with one hand, he asks, “Anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”

You consider for a moment.

“Mm, no, I trust your judgment. You probably know my tastebuds better than I do at this point.”

An emotion passes across Eclipse’s dark faceplate, something that makes your skin prickle at the sudden knifelike quality to it. Instead of voicing whatever he’s thinking, he just spins his rays and returns your wink from earlier.

“I’ll be back with a plate.”

He saunters away, politely dodging groups of people and conversations as he makes his way towards the mouthwatering smell of food. You track him for a little while as you nurse your coffee until you’re brought back to the present at your table. Sun and Moon are being unusually quiet, and both are staring at you.

“What?” you say after a pause.

Sun’s smile normally warms you to the soul, but there are times when it sends you into fight or flight mode, just like Eclipse’s. In fact, all three of the brothers share that uncanny ability, and it’s no less disarming whenever it’s aimed at you. The meaning behind the near-predatory flash of teeth can operate anywhere on the scale of danger, and depending on Sun’s mood, it can quickly tip over into territory you want to avoid.

His rays blur in one direction then the other.

“You have a way with words, precious.”

“…Thanks. I think.”

You don’t know if that was meant to be a compliment, but you’ll take it as one anyways.

Sun doesn’t say either way, but the deep blue of his pupils are cutting. It’s offset by the rather distracting way he’s swirling his champagne around in the flute like it’s a glass of wine. You’re not exactly sure why he’s doing that, but you are impressed at how not a single drop of liquid spills over the top despite being full.

A couple of minutes tick by as you simply relax and chat with the brothers while sipping your drink. It’s not long until restlessness begins digging in, however, and you give a cursory glance around the room and tap your fingers on the table.

“So what’re your plans after this?”

The question is barely out in the open before Moon answers with a sarcastic, “Going home and getting absolutely plastered.”

Apathy ricochets off you and Sun.

“They should make a park for people like you.” Sun tips his glass at his brother. “An unamusement park.”

“Hilarious.”

“No, it’d be the opposite of that.”

“That’s just Wall Street, Sun,” you say around a yawn, and Sun somehow makes a noise like he’s clicking a tongue he doesn’t have. You don’t question it.

Moon hmphs and crosses his arms like a child. You decide it’s best not to tell him that it only endears him to you even more.

“You do have a bit of a dry personality when it comes to acting,” you say, reaching up to scratch your chin in contemplation. When Moon’s faceplate swivels at you, utterly dumbfounded, you quickly add, “Not that that’s a bad thing! It’s just different from what is more common nowadays. That’s probably why you and Sun complement each other so well too. In fact, I think you would have been great in a show like Dragnet, Detective Moon.”

“No, don’t get him started—” Sun begins in a petulant whine, but it’s too late.

Moon’s red optics widen a fraction, and he suddenly gets a gleam in them, like he just got hit with inspiration. His metal fingers tug the brim of his hat so low that only the light of crimson shines from the shadow. Then his hands make quick work of loosening the knot of his tie just enough that it sits slightly askew. He squints across the table at the wall, staring at nothing with such intensity that it’s like he’s scrutinizing something a great distance away. His shoulders pull back, while he mimes takes a heavy drag of a smoking cigar.

Finally, to tie the charade together into a neat bow, he says in a very husky, deadpan voice that cracks with static, “Just the facts, ma’am.”

Sun’s eyes roll so hard, they could fall out of his head. You grin wide. In your peripheral, you think you see dark rays approaching your table.

“It’s almost like he does it effortlessly,” you joke playfully.

“That’s because there is no effort put into it,” Sun says, exasperated. “He’s not acting. Monotone is his personality.”

A sneer breaks Moon’s act, and he spins his head around in a complete circle to taunt his brother. Defying all physics, his hat remains squarely on all the while.

“Sun’s jealous because he knows if this were a different show, he’d be relegated to sidekick status.”

As Moon’s speaking, Eclipse returns, full plate in hand. He sets it down in front of you, to which you thank him, picking up the silverware next to you. His rays give a little wiggle in return, and he melts back into his seat with a grunt, propping his elbow back on the table and resting his head on his hand.

“I think being a main character has gotten to your head,” Sun returns snippily. There’s an exaggeration to his voice and haughty head tilt that tells you he’s just as much bantering along with Moon. The swirling of his drink gets more aggressive. “We’ll see how well that works out for you. Maybe this will be the start of my villain arc, and I’ll secretly become the big bad of the story with a mafia to my name.”

“Ugh, please do,” Eclipse groans from where he lounges, dragging his hand down his faceplate. “I’m tired of having to be mean.”

That snags your attention. You shuffle a bite of what might be teriyaki chicken onto your tongue and chew thoughtfully.

Holding your hand in front of your mouth as you munch so that you don’t endure another lecture from Sun, you say, a bit muffled, “I really should find the time to sit in on one of your classes soon. I wanna hear all of your secrets to playing the big bad villain.”

Eclipse’s chuckle flows on a deep wave that buzzes in his chest and warms yours, making your own cheeks hurt, both from the large bite of food you’re chewing and from how you beam at fostering such a sound. His low-lidded black eyes slide over to you, peering out from under his hand.

“That’s easy,” he says. “Anytime I have to act angry, I just think about these two idiots and the shit they make me put up with.”

Sun’s visage turns affronted.

“Language! And what exactly do you mean by that anyways?”

“He certainly couldn’t be referring to all the times we’ve pranked him,” Moon retorts, pretending to examine his nonexistent nails.

You nod sagely in agreement.

“Or the times you’ve tried to sabotage his shoots by distracting him.”

“Or how often we customize his wardrobe for fun.”

“And there was also that time you hid his car keys in a jello mold.”

Moon brightens at that one like you’ve made him recall a fond memory.

Sun leans back in his seat and bends an arm over the back of it. His frown slants sideways.

“Well, when you say it like that, it makes us sound bad.”

You twirl your fork on your plate and share a look with the animatronic from across the table.

“I wonder why.”

Your group laughs then along with one supremely ragged sigh from Eclipse, stirring up a decent amount of noise in the already loud room. The conversation continues much the same, with the three brothers taking cracks at each other while you watch the show and scarf down your dinner. It’s by the time that your plate is scraped clean and you’re sipping on the cold leftovers of the coffee Moon got you that a new presence is drawn in by the chatter in your small corner. You don’t immediately notice them until they speak up.

“Why am I not surprised to see you four all cozying up together in your own little area?” a calm voice addresses your table.

You glance up and find a much too complacent smirk staring you down.

Sun takes a gander at your table’s new visitor and acquires an awfully mischievous glint.

“Uh oh. Security breach! Someone better let staff know that the Loch Ness Monster has gotten out of containment again.”

Like clockwork, Vanessa’s eyes narrow, and she places her hands on her hips, lips pursing.

“That nickname hasn’t been funny in all the ten other times you’ve used it.”

“Au contraire, little fish. It ages like a fine wine.”

Rolling her eyes at the lighthearted taunt from the jesting animatronic, she turns back to you.

“So when’s the wedding?” she presses, apparently deciding to return fire with fire.

A scoff trickles out, and you consider diving into a lengthy, not at all defensive rant about how the rumors your coworkers love circulating are just that: rumors. Just because you’ve decided you want to be with the celestial animatronics doesn’t mean you’ve all had a conversation about making that public yet, if ever.

But then Moon decides that now is apparently the best time to slide his arm behind you and tuck it over your shoulders, and you’re left choking down your own rebuttal because he just threw it in the mud in one shove.

Vanessa doesn’t smile often. She looks like a damn cat that caught a canary now.

On reflex, as if you can salvage your dying dignity, you say, “We’re not dating, Ness.”

Technically not yet since you still need to have a chat with Sun privately and then discuss with all three of them to make sure you’re on the same page. But you don’t need to clarify that.

“Yeah, Nessie,” Moon adds, dutifully ignoring Vanessa’s immediate grimace at her other equally despised nickname. Really, though, he needs to stop talking all at once. “Can’t you see we’re all just hanging out like a couple of buddy ol’ pals?”

“Not helping, Moon,” you half-heartedly lament, trying to formulate a protest, but the blonde-haired woman has already taken the bait.

She lifts a brow.

“If this is how you treat your ‘friends,’” she says, actually pausing to make the air quotes, “then I’m glad we never became more than associates.”

“Aw, there’s no need to be so pessimistic,” Sun drawls with a heavy inflection, sweet like molasses. He reclines in his chair, crossing his legs. “Just because we never had a spark between us doesn’t mean there aren't still plenty of fish in the sea. Or lake, I should say. The show’s not over yet.”

“It’s about to end prematurely if you keep talking like that,” Vanessa shoots back without dropping the flatness in her tone one iota.

Sun’s smirk is all dangerous edges, and his rays twirl flirtatiously.

The display and banter is nothing out of the ordinary between those three. Though she may deny they’re friends, Vanessa has always gotten along well with all of the brothers, which is probably another reason you’ve also gotten along well with her. She’s been in the acting business longer than you have, and instead of trying to show you how things are done, in the beginning, she watched and noted your own technique. Only after you asked her for her advice did she offer it. She’s brought a professionalism to the show that is greatly needed, yet she still keeps an open mind to how everyone else does their own work.

For that, she’s earned a lot of respect from you. It took only a little nudging to get her to warm up to your friend group. The feigned disinterest is now just part of the usual routine, and you know for a fact that no one except Moon and Sun have gotten her to laugh aloud.

You owe a lot to the show you’ve all worked on together for the friendships alone that you’ve gotten through it.

“Have you been enjoying the party?” You decide to reroute the conversation before an all out war can break out in the form of snappy comebacks.

Vanessa groans.

“I could be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. In fact, I should be relaxing in bed with a hot cup of tea. But for some godforsaken reason, I made the poor choice to come here instead.”

“Because you like us,” Moon singsongs, circling a finger along the white tablecloth.

Vanessa deigns to ignore that. Everyone knows he’s right, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before she ever agrees with him.

She addresses you instead.

“I see they’ve been practicing their terrible pick-up lines. I’m sorry you had to be the unfortunate one and settle for scraping the bottom of the barrel, unlike the rest of us.”

“Wow,” Sun huffs, dry as sandpaper.

“Deserved,” Eclipse chips in, just as dry but no less entertained at the spectacle unfolding.

“Like I said,” you say, not concealing your amusement at Vanessa’s persistence, “we’re not an item yet, so stop trying to set us up.”

“Yeah, I really don’t think you need my help with that,” she returns far too smoothly.

Your jaw goes slack, but Vanessa steamrolls right over your scandalized shock as usual.

“Anyways, I came over to fetch you for a second if you can spare one from your boyfriends. Freddy is asking for you.”

“Oh!” At that, you glance around in search of the bear animatronic, purposefully ignoring that last small dig.

With his big, hulking frame, it doesn’t take long to spot Freddy. He’s chatting with a few others in a semi-circle. As expected, you catch the slightest glimpse of Gregory next to him, though the poor kid seems miserable in his suit and tie. You can more than relate and have to stifle a small chuckle at his pout.

You turn back to your table and ease out of your chair onto stiff heels and creaking joints. Oof, that’s definitely the sound of your knees going snap, crackle, and pop.

“I’ll be right back. Save my seat?”

Moon blinks at it. Then back at you.

“Why? Is it dying?”

Before you can give back a snarky reply, Sun tacks on with faux concern, “Hey, is your fridge running?”

You share a wordless, pointed look with Vanessa and decide it’s best to not indulge them before they can get on a roll because once they start egging each other on, there’s no stop in sight.

Eclipse nods at you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them in line while you’re gone.”

The twin snide leers in response tell you otherwise, but you’ll let him deal with that. His problem now. As you turn, you get a glimpse of Moon hunkering in close to his brothers with an excited sharpness in his movement.

Vanessa doesn’t have to say a word while you walk beside her. You just take her exasperation in stride because you know you don’t have a good rebuttal ready. She ends up sticking with you all the way to Freddy’s group, giving you the tiny impression that she’s been requested to “chaperone” you from one side of the room to the next.

As you’re weaving around the many groups of friendly faces and cheery waves, greeting them back with as much enthusiasm, you catch sight of Vanessa’s tie and nearly do a double-take. On a simple black background is a tiny print of many rabbits, with a myriad of bow ties, hats, and ribbons. It’s so fitting, you can’t not say something.

“I like the tie,” you snicker.

She follows where you gesture with a hand. It could just be the light in the room, but you swear you see a hint of mirth from her at you noticing.

“I thought it would be funny,” she says in an unfazed tone that makes your breath hitch around another sharp snort.

A lot of your coworkers find Vanessa to be standoffish. They don’t know what they’re missing because at her heart, she is one of the funniest people you’ve come to know. It just took a little to get her to warm up to you, and now, you consider her a great friend. On top of that, she’s incredibly talented to boot. You’re beyond glad that she was cast for her role in the show. That final showdown between you and her still gives you shivers even with all of it being an act.

“It is pretty fitting,” you agree, trying your best to don your best blank façade and failing. “Since it’s the year of the rabbit, after all.”

“Ugh. Now I know you’ve been hanging out exclusively with those three idiots. And what’s worse is I’ve heard that joke at least a hundred times tonight.”

“A hundred and one now, and the night’s still young.” You elbow her tauntingly, and she shies away with a scowl.

Vanessa appears prepared to tell you exactly what she thinks of your terrible jokes, but before she can, your name is called out in a sonorous clap.

You find Freddy eagerly waving you forward, and without a second thought, you’re by his side and being swept into a ferocious hug.

“It’s so good to see you outside of work for a change! I never thought those rascals would let you out of their sights for the holidays.”

A terrible groan threatens to break your throat.

“Not you too, Freddy,” you bemoan.

“No worries, I’m just pulling your leg.” He lets you go and beams down at you, good mood infectious. “But all jokes aside, I am glad you decided to come out tonight. The party wouldn’t be the same without the star lead.”

You blow off his statements, a little frazzled and more than a little flustered.

“Oh, ease up on them, Frederick. You’ll make the poor thing blush,” joins yet another voice, deep yet muted.

William Afton’s figure is just as imposing even outside of the villainous character he portrays. You don’t know how you missed him in the small circle Freddy’s been chatting up, but his piercing observation of you has you straightening up. He isn’t someone you’ve had a chance to really get to know, but as a more senior actor in the group, he’s posed an intimidating factor in his wealth of experience alone. You’ve seen him in action; he’s incredible.

What’s even more of a delightful surprise is his present company—namely, the small child standing next to him, their hand in his and swinging the pair’s arms happily.

The child is none other than the actor that plays a much younger version of the vigilante, one whom you’ve found to be utterly adorable. They’ve easily won the hearts of the cast and crew, and judging by the way William holds their tiny hand so delicately, they’ve gotten him wrapped around their little finger too. And even if those two weren’t holding hands, you’d already know how close they’ve gotten in the time they’ve worked together because of all the little anecdotes that’ve been passed around the grapevine about them becoming an unlikely pair of friends. Their bond reminds you of a paternal relationship. William is the one who gave them the beloved nickname Ribbon, thanks to the bright spool of red they’ve taken to tying in their hair upon realizing it was also part of your costume. It’s a reminder that they look up to you, for whatever reason that makes you hyper aware of everything you say or do around them. You’re no role model, but you’ll do your best to be one for Ribbon if that’s what they need.

As for the nickname, you’re sure it was meant to be a silly, one-time thing. But then others caught wind of it, and now it’s just kind of stuck. The little child actor couldn’t be more thrilled at getting their own moniker and almost downright refuses to respond to anything else.

They catch you watching and give a jaunty wiggle of the fingers of their free hand—a wave you can’t help but return. The kid bounces on their toes, pleased.

“It’s about time you came over and said hello,” quips a sarcastic tone that you recognize in a heartbeat.

You peer around Freddy.

“Hey, kiddo. How’s tricks?”

Gregory pulls a sour grimace.

“Don’t call me that.”

“He doesn’t like being called a kid,” Ribbon helpfully explains. They light up impishly. “It’s a sore spot.”

“It’s not a—” Gregory stops and forces himself to simmer down, rolling his eyes. “I’m not that young.”

“And I’m sure they mean nothing by it,” Freddy smooths over, likely sensing the argument before it can begin. “But even still, there’s nothing wrong with being a child! Why, you have gotten to experience something that most other kids your age have only ever seen on TV. That’s something to be proud of.”

“My parents let me skip school,” Ribbon brags when Gregory just grumbles.

You click your tongue sharply at that.

“They’d better not be! Else I’m gonna have some very strong words with them, dumpling.”

That has the tot giggling, and William shakes his head.

“No need, I already checked. They’re not missing out on school. I actually had the chance to meet their parents sometime ago.” He pauses to subtly indicate to a couple who aren’t too far away, chatting with a few people you vaguely recognize. Vanessa is also talking with them, and you wonder when she snuck away from your side.

William continues, “They informed me that any education outside of school hours is being handled at home or with tutors. And in fact, this little one brought their math homework to the set last month and showed me just how quickly they’re learning.”

The two share a small glance. It’s easy to see the pride in William’s features.

Then Ribbon turns to you.

They cup a hand over their mouth and loudly whisper, “He didn’t know the answers to some of the questions, so I had to show him how.”

You share a conspiratorial gasp.

“No kidding? Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re here to help these grownups learn, huh?”

A toothy grin flashes, and they nod excitedly. It’s then you notice the giant red silk in their braid, tied like a bow. The ends curl and frame their face cutely. You think you might even hear the chime of a bell.

Guess they’re going all out on their outfit tonight. Seeing them mimic your vigilante costume even outside of work grants you a deep fulfillment that runs through your chest. You hope that wherever they end up afterwards, it’ll be overflowing with only good, kind people. And hopefully their parents will preserve their childhood as much as possible too.

Anyways,” you say, turning and regaining Gregory’s attention, “Sorry, bud. Freddy’s right that I didn’t mean anything by it, but I’ll make sure to not call you that from now on.”

Gregory shrugs, crosses his arms, then uncrosses them like he’s not sure how to react. More than likely, he just feels put on the spot.

He chews on a response for a bit before he goes with, “It’s fine if you do it, I guess. Just don’t make it a habit, or else I’ll start calling you old.”

You feign shocked betrayal.

“How dare you? I’ll have you know that I’m always at my prime.” But then, unable to resist playing along, you pretend to feebly sway on your feet and place a hand to your chest, while the other reaches behind and presses at your spine, and you hunch over. “Oh, but your words—they cut so deep! I can feel them, seeping into my poor mortal bones, cursing me with old age. Agh, my back! It’s breaking!”

Like you’d expected, Gregory can’t quite hide his amusement at your shenanigans, and though he gives a valiant effort, his smirk is strong across his face.

“You’re such a theater kid,” he mocks.

You straighten with a frown.

“Oh, that’s real rich coming from you, shorty. Them’s fightin’ words.”

The sardonic, gloating image of the other threatens to start a semi-hostile bickering match between you and him. Fortunately or unfortunately for Gregory, Freddy intervenes like the paternalistic figure he’s come to embody.

“Alright, that’s enough. No need to start verbally swinging. I swear, you’re like a couple of cats and dogs sniping at each other any chance you get.”

Very maturely, you jab an accusatory finger at Gregory and retort, “Don’t look at me. He started it.”

The bear animatronic gives you a heavily imploring look. Your aura of innocence doesn’t seem to be swaying him in the slightest. Pity.

“You’re just mad that I’m right,” the kid taunts.

“Gregory,” Freddy warns, rounding on him and sounding for all intents and purposes like a disappointed parent.

You puff up your cheeks, readying another witty comeback on your tongue, but Freddy must have some sort of sixth sense because he shoots you another damning look that halts the friendly fire in its tracks. A silent standoff occurs between you, him, and the spunky little brat who thinks he’s winning, judging by the proud uptilt of his chin and his haughtily lifted brow. Which, to be fair, he’s not wrong in believing that, but details.

“To completely change the subject,” Freddy says before you can research if it’s legal to throw hands with a kid in self-defense, “I called you over here because I wanted to tell you something while I have the chance. And to start with, I’m sure many others have said the same thing to you already, but I want you to know it’s been a pleasure getting to watch you work throughout filming.”

One of his hands settles on your shoulder and stills you entirely, though you certainly weren’t expecting that last remark either. He makes sure he has your full attention before he keeps talking.

“I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that you’ve brought a uniqueness to the show. There is something to be noted about the good nature you carry into every circumstance, and as such, I’m grateful our paths were able to cross because of it. You have heart, and that shines well in your role. I believe the success we’ve had would not have been so easily attainable without you as the vigilante.”

In just a few short sentences, Freddy manages to strike down your smile and hollow you out. You stare in dumbstruck fashion at the bear animatronic. The heartfelt honesty wasn’t something you were expecting or ready for, and it cuts through your defenses and threatens to crumple you like a napkin.

“Freddy,” you hesitantly start, growing uncomfortable, “that’s really sweet and all, but I’m not—”

He gently interrupts you by briefly holding up a hand. You fall quiet.

“Please, let me finish being sentimental and overbearing while I still have you here, and then I’ll let you get back to the party. Since we’ve begun working together, I haven’t quite had an opportunity to tell you this, but I think you are an extraordinary individual and a talented actor. More importantly, however, I know that some of our… shall we say chattier team members have been spreading rumors. You probably know exactly what I’m referring to, so I’ll refrain from going into any details in case there are other listening ears nearby.”

He pauses just long enough to seemingly collect his thoughts. The unexpected direction of this conversation has your heart immediately jolting in your chest and pounding erratically, fearful of what he might say after hearing all of the gossip. Despite the sudden urge to turn tail and run, you hold back the panic that looms just on the edges of your peripheral. It waits to descend, circling like a hawk, and you push it back with an obstinate force.

You will wait to hear him out first, though you pray that he hasn’t called you over to condemn your relationships with the celestial brothers.

Perhaps your stone-faced silence is a dead giveaway, or maybe the stiffness in your jaw is actually a trembling line that betrays your worry. Either way, Freddy takes a good, long look at you, and it’s then that his expression changes. Determination or certainty or something close straightens his shoulders and eases his trepidation away.

He continues in a much more private murmur, for your ears alone.

“My point is, in spite of those rumors, I can’t help but notice how increasingly happy you’ve become, even in this small timespan. You seem brighter than before. Lighter on your feet. I know I didn’t meet you prior to us working alongside each other, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m sounding presumptuous here because that truly isn’t my intent.” When his smile reappears, it’s like a ray of sunshine shining proudly upon you. His tone overflows with his benevolence as he finishes, softer still, “I just want to say that whatever that happiness is and whomever it might be with—if that is indeed the case—I hope it is something that works out for you. And I hope you pursue it if it does. Because like many others here, you deserve to have good things in your life too. So don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise, no matter what they may say or believe.”

A friendly or perhaps comforting squeeze grips your shoulder. The following pause is loud.

Having said his piece, Freddy waits patiently for you to respond or maybe just to mull over what he said. Or to do anything at all instead of just gape at him.

Something slips into your eye. Both of them, funnily enough. You wait a moment too long to blink the odd sensation away, and it starts to burn.

Freddy notices, because of course he does, and his brow furrows.

“I’m sorry. It seems I’ve made you upset by what I said.”

You wave off his concern.

“No, no, I’m fine, really,” you lie very convincingly. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. It’s okay. I mean, I’m just—”

You bite your tongue to stop the immediate urge to deflect. You don’t like to think of yourself as overly emotional. Your soul lies in your work, and that’s where your emotions shine. You also know that while Freddy’s praise is flattering, it’s far from true. There are so many talented, gifted people working on this production. Anything you do is but a speck in the grand scheme of things, and a great deal of other people deserve credit far more than you do.

Still, it’s a palpable relief to hear what he said and to know that you have someone supportive in your corner. It touches you deeply because while it’s one thing to be recognized for your work by someone like him, it is a whole new matter to hear an outsider’s approval of the relationships you’ve been brewing over restlessly. Freddy is a role model—an inspiration—to the team. In many ways, he’s become a sort of parental figure that many look up to, you included. Having your silly human heart’s desires be acknowledged and embraced by him means a lot to you more than any kind of praise. A whole lot.

So much so that it stabs right to the center of all the inner turmoil that’s been burgeoning inside you without an outlet, and your ears feel hot and your throat tight.

You attempt to just laugh it off, sounding a bit uneven and watery.

“Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” you say at last, and the easygoing tone you were shooting for kind of falls flat.

You’re exactly like he said: happier and lighter. Have been for weeks—months—now. But especially recently. Just took you a little longer than most to notice.

You’re certain though about what you want. You don’t feel like you need to test the waters anymore. Originally, you’d been alarmed at jumping into three relationships headfirst without any thought, but truth is, you were thinking of it long beforehand. You just refused to see it for what it was, the longing for something more than friendship. This isn’t your emotions getting confused from what you act out in front of a camera, like you’d originally feared.

The teasing and rumors are things you’ve gotten used to over time. But what Freddy said goes farther than that, and it’s beyond refreshing to hear someone else’s perspective confirm what your intuition has been shouting from the start.

As you wipe your eyes with a hand, you say only a little shakily, “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. I think I needed to hear that more than you realize.” You take a moment to collect yourself, swallowing hard and letting the immense relief settle your nerves.

You’re here. It’s okay. It will be more than okay, but at least you know that you have people in your corner who genuinely care. You weren’t exactly ready for the emotional rollercoaster you just rode, but you’re thankful nonetheless. It feels good to not be alone like you’d once thought. It feels incredible.

As the racing in your chest calms back down, the levelheadedness returns. Freddy is still waiting like a worried spectator, so you decide to reassure him in the best way you know how.

Your smile is small but facetious.

“You know, it’s a good thing you approached me about this. Here I was, all worried you’d turn me down, but I’m so glad you finally saw the light and decided to confess your undying love for me before the clock strikes midnight.”

For an animatronic, Freddy does a fantastic job of blanching.

“Oh! No, that’s not… Ah, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”

He panics to the point his voicebox starts to stutter as he backtracks. William steps in to rescue him.

“They’re joking, Frederick. They know you’re not the one who’s madly fallen for them.” His eyes slide over to you. “Which those three have, by the way.”

You spread your arms in disbelief, neck burning.

“Geez, did everyone else figure out my love life before me or something?”

“Only a little.” The man smirks, something that is extremely hard not to react to when it��s so unlike him.

“What’s a love life?” Ribbon innocently pipes up.

Gregory replies, “Tch, don’t ask them because they clearly don’t know.”

Freddy pats the top of the boy’s head.

“None of that now. Be nice. They can work things out in their own time. There’s no rush.”

You don’t have the heart to tell Freddy that that is exactly what you’ve been worrying over. So you instead peer back over to your table, gnawing on your lip as you think.

There’s not a clear view of them, but you can see Sun’s rays spinning wide as he converses with his brothers and a few others who have swung by to chat, standing beside the table. You wonder what they’re all talking about and suffocate the desire to go back over there. Just because you want to be with them doesn’t mean you have to act like some lovesick puppy.

As you’re weighing the pros and cons of making up some very transparent excuse to slip away from your group and return to the boys, a discordant echo of feedback rings through the crowd, making everyone wince.

“Sorry!” a distant voice yells, and then there’s distinct tapping on a microphone. “Test, test, testing, is this thing on now? I guess it is after that little noise.”

Everyone turns to the source, and you see the executive producer on a raised platform with a mic, two large projector screens on the wall behind him. Once he’s got the mic in working order, he requests everyone to take their seats, and you try to hide your elation at being dismissed from social convention. You make sure to wish the others a farewell and happy new year in case you don’t get to see them again later that night, giving an especially grateful squeeze to Freddy’s arm, and then you hustle your way back to three shining faces.

In the end, Moon proves to have been a valiant defender of your chair after all, and you reclaim the spot next to him while the man who organized the event launches into a lengthy speech of thank yous and cheers to the future progress of the show.

The distraction allows you a private moment to reflect on what just transpired and ease back into a calmer state. However, when you wipe your eyes a final time to stop any meddlesome tears in their tracks, your actions do not go unnoticed like you’d hoped.

Moon turns to you and leans in close so that he can whisper.

“Are you alright?” His concern is a selfless gesture that touches you deeply, like he’s ready to jump at a moment’s notice for your sake.

Your eyes glisten a little more at the sweet thoughtfulness.

“I’m fine. Promise.” At his persisting worry, you gently clarify, “It’s nothing bad. I’m just… really, really happy.”

Your heart leaps with your words, confirming the veracity of them.

Surprise rounds off the lines of disquiet and inclines the edges of his mouth. Moon’s steady regard holds unmistakable compassion.

“Good, I’m glad. Still, let me know if you need anything, and I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not at your verbal best right now, so you nod, and he shifts back to the speaker. You think that’s that, but then one of his hands seeks out and rests on the top of your lap, palm up. An offering. The questioning flash of red is only just visible at this angle.

You try to not let your sentimentality show so plainly to the room from you beaming as you slip your hand into his. It feels like you’re shaking with relief and euphoria.

From there, it’s easier to focus on the speech. The speaker informs the party that they are welcome to stay till midnight to watch the fireworks that the city will be setting off across the harbor. The hotel is waterfront, meaning the room’s windows facing the harbor will provide an exceptional view of the night sky. After that, the hotel has requested that everyone vacate the event room no later than one in the morning if they don’t have a reservation to stay and to please abide by the quiet hours rule. The fact that your group is even being allowed to hang around that late makes you wonder just how much money was slipped under the table to cover that cost.

You critically eye the waitstaff still handing out glasses of alcohol. It will be a miracle if there isn’t a single incident resulting in someone getting kicked out, and you know you don’t want to be around when that happens.

After the speech, a video is played on the screens commemorating months’ worth of silly moments and fun memories filmed both during shoots and in the lulls between. You end up laughing along with the others at the antics and bloopers caught on video, and even one of Sun and Moon’s pranks makes it on the screen. It’s a heartwarming stroll down memory lane that is bittersweet and a reminder that the show is nearing its finale.

After the video ends, the executive producer steps down from his stage, once more thanking everyone for their hard work and encouraging them all to finish off the plentiful catering leftovers. The room explodes into applause and some whistles, and you join in with the ones sitting next to you. It’s been a hard journey with many late nights and abysmally early mornings, but you’re close to the end. You’ll miss the familiar people you’ve come to enjoy seeing every day and the kindness of the teams you got to work with. One thing is for certain: Your phone is positively bursting with contacts from many, many people you’ve met just through working on this show. You hope that your future job will connect you with some of them again face to face when all is said and done.

Mind abuzz with thoughts of where you’ll end up next, you whittle away the hours yet again with your favorite company. At one point, Sun hands off his flute of champagne to a passerby with superfluous reassurances that he’s done “absolutely nothing to it!” He doesn’t sound trustworthy at all, but when he gives you a universally austere wink, it becomes obvious he’s just pulling the other person’s leg.

At some point, someone pulls out an honest-to-God Clue board game from who knows where, and you end up on a three-person team with Moon and Sun—much to the chanting of your friends and coworkers—to solve the mystery and take down your competitors. Eclipse pairs with Gregory and an actor who played as one of his goons. Becker, you think his name is.

A mix of people from other departments, from the sound crew to the camera crew to the stunt performers and everyone in between, get involved too, whether it’s to team up or just spectate like this is the greatest new sport. In the end, the result is a truly raucous round that leads to your team’s victory. High fives and gloating abound, but that’s quickly stampeded when you, Moon, and Sun lose the next round. After that, you decide to let other people have a turn, and you mingle with those you haven’t had a chance to chat with in a long while. What makes it an even better experience is that throughout the socializing, you find yourself with a tail or two or three. They let you reach out first—a hand on their backs or elbows—which leads to them returning the favor so that you’re in constant contact with at least one. It doesn’t escape your notice that doing this means you’ll receive more raised eyebrows and probably stir up the pot of gossip.

But unlike before, that thought doesn’t really bother you as much.

You know why.

As the clock ticks closer to midnight, the party dwindles in size. Some depart to go celebrate the new year with family; others leave to follow the call of their beds. You catch one more quick interaction with Ribbon, and they give you a big hug that you return just as tightly. Their little arms threaten to bruise your bones, and it only makes your fondness for them soar. Their parents also bid you goodbye, sharing grateful waves at you, and you watch as they lead their kid to the hotel’s elevator, Ribbon squeezing both their hands and skipping between them.

Not an ounce of tiredness in that one. You wish you had their energy. The studio couldn’t have picked a better vigilante-in-the-making.

Feeling winded yourself, you return to your seat with a drawn-out groan. While you were away, Sun and Moon swapped places. Judging by the delighted tapping of Sun’s fingers on the table and Moon’s unhappy glower, it wasn’t a unanimous decision.

It’s a mere fifteen minutes to midnight now. And that’s when Eclipse returns to his seat and decides it’s high time to throw another curveball your way.

“I have a proposition for you,” he slyly says, which has you simultaneously uneasy and intrigued.

“Oh?”

“Yes, oh?” Sun parrots, with much more skepticism in his tone.

Eclipse grins wryly. In between one blink and the next, he snaps into view a solid black card between his middle and forefinger. The slender card has no meaning to you, at least not until he flicks it a certain way in the light. The embossed letters reflect the ambient glow just enough to be legible, and that’s when you gasp.

“You’re joking,” you breathe, and Eclipse chuckles.

“What? What am I missing?” Sun looks between you and Eclipse and then at the card, but Eclipse tucks it away just as fast.

You lean back in your seat, stunned.

“This hotel has to be booked solid all through the holiday,” you manage to say. “How on earth did you get a key? Did you book a room months ago?”

The eldest brother is obviously enjoying this, both your and Sun’s reactions, unlike Moon who is slowly becoming one with his chair the further he sinks into it, and you can’t find it in yourself to deprive Eclipse of his moment. You weren’t expecting that at all.

He shakes his head and keeps his voice low, like he’s sharing a secret.

“I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but there’s a man here who I used to work with on a different set years ago. He’s a cameraman, and the bulk of his work is focused on taking candid pictures to be used for promotion. Back when we first met, we both were still graduating past being labeled as fresh blood in the industry, so we ended up hitting it off. He’s been a good friend of mine ever since.” Long fingers fold together, and Eclipse props his elbows on the table, shadowed metal almost ominous in the light. “That’s all to say that he was invited to tonight’s party as a plus one because his niece is one of the actresses for this series, and they’re rather close. He chose to book a room at this hotel months ago for the event out of convenience.”

Eclipse leans in closer as excitement in his voice builds, and like an infectious pull, you mirror his movement.

“Here’s where it gets interesting,” he simpers. “I overheard that this place has a pool and bar—more specifically, a rooftop pool and bar. Due to the cold weather, the outdoor half of the pool has been closed for winter, but the indoor half has been kept open. And currently, guests are allowed to use their keycards to enjoy a nice swim and some drinks from ten o’clock in the morning to ten o’clock at night. So naturally, when I expressed my interest in accessing the place, my friend gave me one of his spare keys with the exception that I don’t tell anyone where I got it from.”

You're astounded and can see how Eclipse relishes having such a captive audience.

“Kind of failed on that front already,” Moon tacks on blithely. He feigns disinterest, but his gaze is fixed on you as well, assessing.

You hope he isn’t readying to read you your Miranda rights if you so much as suggest an iota of interest in this.

Eclipse, however, only puffs out a synthetic breath at his little brother.

“Anyone who’s a snitch,” he clarifies.

“So what you’re saying is,” you say, still starry-eyed with wonder, “we can sneak up to the rooftop and watch the fireworks from there?”

“Among other things, yes.”

You pause.

“Other things?”

Eclipse doesn’t answer. But his shifty keek at Sun has you feeling on edge.

“Oh!”

You flinch as Sun violently shoots to his feet, chair scraping behind him, and he is just as wide-eyed as you.

“I’m suddenly fully on board with this plan without any dubious behavior whatsoever.” He holds a hand out to you. “Let’s go do some illicit activities.”

You side-eye Moon. Sun does much the same.

“By which I mean technically not illicit at all,” he hastily adds. He wiggles his fingertips at you. “Coming, doll?”

Your hand reaches for his.

“Nothing dubious, huh?”

Sun gently pulls you out of your seat. The animatronic picks up your coat too and drapes it over your shoulders before you can have time to think about it, and the warmth of your coat extends deeper than it normally would. He takes your hand with a stifled sound that is by definition just plain cute. Suspicious or not, you’ll go wherever he leads as long as it means staying by his side. Clearly, the brothers have something planned, especially since Moon hasn’t made a peep where he normally would about anything remotely smelling of unlawful, and you squirm with your own enthusiasm.

“Here.” Eclipse gives Sun the keycard, and while Sun pockets it, you frown in confusion.

“Wait, aren’t you two coming with us?”

At long last, Moon breaks his silence with a benign grin aimed up at you.

“In a minute, starling. Go on up before I change my mind.”

Eclipse tips his head at the elevators.

“We’ll catch up with you shortly. Sunny wants to share something with you first.”

Said animatronic is trembling like a live wire in his bundle of excitement.

“I hope that isn’t what you mean by illicit,” you snark, and you let Sun steer you out of the room with not a second to spare.

“No, no, you won’t find any sort of recreational things on me. I have clean pockets, promise!”

You almost lose your footing, but the other is quick to catch you.

“Thanks.” You pat him appreciatively. “ Also, I wasn’t thinking you had any dirty pockets there, Sunny. But now that you mentioned it… Hm, I might just need to check for myself and thoroughly investigate.”

You watch in bemusement as Sun repeatedly presses the elevator button to summon it. His head snaps to you with some wily scheme dancing inside, his blatant impatience subconsciously pulling you in so that you have to tilt your head back farther to keep him and his lovely rays in sight.

His inner mechanisms click and whir at your closeness. With the hand not holding yours, he taps you on the nose, making you wrinkle it.

“Let’s not get handsy just yet, dear. We haven’t even discussed marriage.”

That earns him a scoff.

“Then color me surprised, snookums, because it sure seems like we’re eloping.”

You lean your weight against his side, confident that he won’t mind, and Sun lets go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead. As you’d suspected, he squeezes you like he plans to imprint you there.

One of the two elevators dings upon its arrival, and the second the doors swish open, Sun hustles you inside. His barely restrained frenetic energy has you snickering, to which he lightheartedly swats you. Once he’s pushed the button for the top floor with more aggressive tapping, he spins back around to give you his full attention. His boundless enthusiasm means a need to channel it somewhere, so it’s no surprise when his fingers continue to busy themselves by beginning to undo one of the buttons of his cuffs to roll his sleeve up to his elbow.

“Trust me, you will know when we’re eloping,” he remarks without thought as he’s focused on his task, neatly tucking away fabric and moving on to the next sleeve.

Oh, he makes it too easy for you sometimes. You brace against the wall while letting a flirtatious smirk emerge. It’s impossible not to tease him a little more, not when you’ve got him trapped like this.

“When we elope, detective?” you echo smugly, pulling a little of your character to the surface. You can’t help it when he walked right into that one.

Sun doesn’t say anything.

Not in the way you’d expected, however. He doesn’t freeze like it was a Freudian slip of the tongue or react with visible panic. No, he doesn’t utter a single word in the aftermath of that little taunt, but he needn’t do so in the way his eyes speak for himself.

Cerulean blue is piercing in low light, you realize. Unwavering as he doesn’t add anything more to confirm or deny your question. You’re playing a losing game of trying not to focus on the bare metal that is revealed as Sun finishes rolling up both his sleeves. Only a beat more of silence has to pass before you realize that you’re the one who’s prey to the sudden intensity of the solitude from the craziness of the night. It’s just you and Sun now and a weighty stillness in the shadow of what you’d thought was an ignorant exchange. Somehow, that has you more uncentered than probably any comeback he could have returned.

Sun’s not saying anything in defense because he doesn’t intend to deny it.

You swallow. Nothing but the vibration of the elevator and its lighthearted music disturbs whatever tension has begun to form. Not unwelcome or even necessarily uncomfortable. But it is noticeable, and you’re becoming extremely aware of everything in the small space, namely the animatronic who’s taking up most of it right in front of you.

Before the tension can get any thicker, the elevator comes to a halt somewhere in its ascent. You and Sun watch as someone, presumably a hotel guest, steps onto the elevator with you, reaches over, and taps a button for a few floors up.

You were wrong; the tension can get thicker, and it is compressing you.

The ride up is painfully silent, made worse by the fact that for whatever reason, Sun does not stop staring at you. You’re just an arm’s reach shy of being cornered against the wall, and apparently, Sun sees no issue with this and how it might look to the unexpected friend who’s joined the circus.

Hardly ten seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before the other person’s floor is reached. They exit without a word or a glance in your direction, and that’s exactly how you prefer it. Without looking, Sun reaches over and nudges the button to close the doors. They slide shut, and your ride to the top is continued once more with only one animatronic to fill the space and your vision.

Funnily enough, this is the first chance all night that you really get a good view of his outfit, what with him being so close. Since you’re desperate to latch onto anything else, you concentrate on that instead. To your surprise, what you see has you in tickled disbelief.

Blinking, you nod in his direction and say, “Please tell me those suspenders are from your costume.”

Sun glances down at the thick loops of fabric on his person as if he’s seeing them for the first time. Then his grin flashes back up at you, twinkling.

“Do you like them?”

He already knows the answer, cheeky thing.

“As if you even need to ask.” You ignore how his amused leer makes your skin pleasantly tingly. You are, in fact, ignoring a lot of things that him being so close is doing to you. A shiver runs down your back. Which you also ignore. “What I’m more shocked by is how you and Moon seem to be sneaking off with pieces of your outfits and getting away with it.”

Sun shrugs and brushes imaginary lint off his shirt with a hum.

“I needed something special from my costume to wear tonight since I wanted to dress to impress. It was either wear these or my handcuffs.”

“…I think you and I might have different definitions of how to impress.”

The animatronic sighs heavily.

“Yes, I know I should have gone with the handcuffs instead. But why else am I supposed to wear suspenders if not to seductively slide them off for you one at a time?”

Sun gives the impression of waggling his brows, rife with an emotion you refuse to label.

“Are you seduced yet?” he croons.

You’re actually on the verge of hysterics after bouncing from that tense moment to now this highly entertaining version of a strip tease, but you’re doing your damndest to keep down the stunned laughter rattling inside your chest. You purse your lips to hold back the tide and then take a second to compose yourself.

“I don’t remember this scene ever being in the script,” you say instead, keenly aware that the elevator is not soundproof nor private. You suddenly wonder if there is a security camera in here and if some poor staff member is seeing all of this, and you almost burst into a guffaw right there.

Sun taps a coquettish finger like he’s shushing you. He can tell how close you are to losing it, and he has no problem chuckling at whatever face you’re making.

“That’s because it’ll be our little secret behind the scenes,” he chirps.

Before you have time to unpack that little remark, the lilting elevator voice declares you’ve reached your destination. You straighten back up when the doors slide apart, a deep exhale blowing past your lips to calm the fluttering in your chest, but Sun doesn’t move just yet.

His hand extends out to you, palm up. A light request and one you don’t have to ponder at all to accept. You’ve noticed that all of the brothers seem to enjoy holding your hand. That’s good, because you enjoy it too.

As the two of you traipse out onto the floor, you’re struck by an intense smell of chlorine. Your lungs expand with the joyous call of swimming pool water, and it’s a small shame that you don’t have a swimsuit on to take a quick dip.

Sun scouts the area with you at his side. Miraculously, the floor appears entirely vacant and ghostly quiet. Couldn’t be because the pool and bar hours have long since passed. Certainly not. There’s a gym up here too, secured off behind glass walls and an entrance that requires keycard access to get in. But that’s not what you’re here for.

“This way.” You lead Sun down a hallway, trusting your nose.

He’s quiet still, but his steps are no less eager than yours. You wonder what it is he wants to show you and why he needs to show it up here of all places and what on earth was that moment you shared in the elevator because it certainly felt like something. There’s no denying the thrill you get from sneaking in somewhere that’s technically meant only for actual hotel guests and only during certain hours. It makes you remember being a teenager, getting into trouble or always just dancing outside of it with someone you lo—

Someone you care about.

As you and Sun peruse the vacant floor, what you’re doing begins to catch up to you. It starts with a giggle from one or both of you—you’re not sure who, but it’s definitely you—like you’re misbehaving children getting into things you shouldn’t. Very quickly from there, the chortles you had tried to suppress from before begin to slip out with Sun not far behind, and you fall into a repetitive pattern of stifling your hitching breaths and hushing each other with no success.

“Sun, you’ve gotta—” you loudly snort and laugh even more. “You’ve gotta stop—”

“Ohoho, I’ve got to stop? Not this barrel of laughs right next to me?” he gibes, his free hand snaking out and poking you in your sensitive stomach.

“H-hey, no! You cut that out right now, mister!”

Sun’s fingers wriggle treacherously, and your squeal bounces off the walls. Another round of shushing does little to quell the jittering butterflies in your stomach that are making your chest heave with half-caught breaths. To your relief, Sun ceases the merciless assault on your ticklish side, but it’s only to then stop in place.

You stop as well when you realize he’s not budging, and you smile a little crookedly over your shoulder at the unreadable way he looks at you.

Standing there in the hall, Sun doesn’t move an inch aside from his rays that twirl in a leisurely circle. His hand is warm in yours, and his focus doesn’t stray to anywhere except you. He takes a long moment to just keep you at his side, quiet and contemplating.

Then, without preamble or any warning, he kindly says, “You have a pretty laugh.”

And wouldn’t you know it, there is now no air conditioning in the room whatsoever because you can feel yourself heating up all over.

“Oh,” you start, openly floundering like a fish out of water. “I’m… Thanks?”

An affectionate huff graces your ears.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, silly. All I mean to say is I enjoy hearing it. Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

Thump-thump.

Seems like all three of the brothers adore leaving you speechless too. You’re aware your mouth is parted, but you don’t even know what to say to that. Sun said it like it was another one of his simple observations he loves to make, like it’s as plain as the weather or the nose on your face.

Like it wasn’t a tease or anything meant to poke fun. Just mere fact.

The edges of your lips find their way back up your cheeks.

“Then I’m glad to hear that. Because you make me happy too,” you say quietly.

Yellow rays pick up speed.

After a subtle glance around, you add, “Not that I don’t appreciate the really sweet confession, but are there any other pressing things you need to admit right now, or do you mind if we get outside first before your brothers show up? You said there was something you wanted to show me.”

The whites behind his blue pupils catch an opalescent flash of light, like mother of pearl.

“I suppose I can wait to tell you about my outstanding arrest warrant,” he says. “Come along then. We don’t have much time left!”

“Wait, your what now? Sun!”

He tugs you after him, warbling giggles promising he’s up to no good, and that’s all the answer you get from the animatronic.

Thankfully, you make it down another hall without further incident as the walled-off pool comes into view. It’s surrounded by glass panes just like the gym. The lights are dim inside, signaling that it isn’t open. But that’s hardly a deterrent, and as you near the door that will let you inside, you can see through the room that on the other side of the pool is another door that leads out onto the rooftop.

In one swift swipe, Sun glides the key across the card reader, and the door unlocks with a beep. Like a true gentleman, he proudly opens the door for you. Or rather, he tries to.

You watch him jolt when the door doesn’t swing open. Grunting, he then grinds his heels into the floor and heaves and tries to yank on the door with all his might. The metal and glass obstacle refuses to budge.

Having some pity on him, you calmly say, “Honeybee, it’s push, not pull.”

He pauses. Stares. Gently, he nudges the door in the opposite direction. It swings open wide.

His grin is an even, flat line.

“I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

Disregarding your mocking tone, he keeps the door propped open with a foot and bows low.

“After you, my dove.”

You shake your head at the endearment and step past him, waiting for him to quietly close the door behind you before you pipe up, voice echoing across the water.

“Are you just throwing out pet names now and seeing what sticks?”

His chassis purrs with his mirth, restlessness keeping him in motion. “I thought about calling you a chicken, but doing so seemed most fowl.”

“A ch— What did you just call me?!” Oh, you’re about to show him just how non-chicken you are, but you then cut yourself off as soon as his joke lands. Blowing out a loud breath, you give Sun the full scope of your unimpressed glower. His optics lift from his joviality.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.”

“Got you good though, didn’t I? Hmm?”

When he’s like this, very subtly swaying from one foot to the other like he’s listening to some silent tune and his endless delight needs to be used somewhere, you can’t hold onto a frown to save your life. You just can’t.

So you purse your lips and pout as hard as you can to show just how unamused you are. You’re so unamused. It’s almost funny how deep your lack of amusement runs, it’s so unamusing.

Your lips quiver at the edges. Sun sees it.

Without warning, he sidles up to you, humming some unknown tune, and then with his thumb and forefinger, he reaches up and pinches your lips together, making them even flatter.

“On second thought,” he remarks, completely ignoring your indignant, muffled protest, “a chicken or a dove isn’t accurate because what I’m clearly seeing now is a duck.”

He emphasizes his point with a squeeze, making you create the very unwanted impression of a duckbill, and he springs away from your enraged swat and squeak, delight carrying his voice loud across the pool.

“Sun!” you yell, rubbing your smarting mouth. “Don’t run away!”

“No offense, duckling,” he titters as he does the exact opposite of your demand, “but something tells me that would be to my detriment!”

“Yeah, that something is me! Come back here!”

You chase the fleeing animatronic around the pool and to the door leading outside. Sun slams into it first, sprinting out with you fast on his heels. The icy cold temperature shocks you from its severity, but you’re too lost in the chase to give it much thought. Sun skips all the way past the closed bar and outdoor pool, up a small flight of smooth cement stairs, and to an area overlooking the harbor.

Right into a corner.

Seemingly realizing his mistake, he turns back around, but you’re already there, closing in on him. What’s worse is he’s still cackling, and you don’t know how you’re going to get your payback, but you’ll figure it out somehow.

“Hoohoo, you’re looking a little frosty over there,” he says, hands lifting up in a placating motion as you near. “Perhaps this would be a wonderful time to go back inside where it’s nice and toasty!”

“Perhaps not,” you shoot back, ignoring how you’ve lost the war in maintaining a frown. The joy on Sun’s faceplate is just too contagious.

He drops the placating gesture in favor of hooking a finger in his collar and tugging on it like he’s nervous. What a drama queen.

“You know, I heard diplomacy is in currently! Super popular! All the cool cats are trying it, so I think we should give it a shot too to see what’s what.”

You’ve reached him at this point, and your hands land on your hips. “That’s funny to hear, Sunny, since just thirty seconds ago, you didn’t seem all that interested in it.”

The animatronic sputters at your very sound logic. His expression is not at all apologetic while he pulls an excuse out of thin air.

“Change of heart?” he says uncertainly.

“Yeah, how believable.” The desert has nothing on your arid tone.

You step forward and grasp one of Sun’s bottom rays, one of the few you can actually reach. Though he could very easily withstand your strength, Sun lets you pull him down until he’s eye-level with you. You have some long-winded speech waiting in the wings—pun not intended—about how this “duckling” can meet him step for step in weaponized terms of endearment, and you absolutely will use that to your advantage to drop the most unhinged pet names in front of others when he least expects it.

But then Sun speaks up before you get the chance.

“If we were to, say, hypothetically, continue the trend of listing things that are funny,” he begins, speaking lower now that he’s so close to you, “then I’d like to mention how this little predicament happens to have reminded me of what I wanted to show you.”

Your skepticism is unmatched.

“Does it involve pulling a sudden disappearing act?”

“Goodness, no! That’s the very opposite of what I want because that would mean putting distance between myself and you… little duck.”

Your eyes narrow.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Just moving the goalpost, darling. Let me finish before we run out of time.”

You can’t help cracking up at that, shaking his ray a little so that all of them swing side to side a few degrees.

“What, do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight or something?”

“Excuse you, I’m more akin to a Prince Charming than anything. But that’s beside the point because I have something very important I need to tell you.”

When he says your name then, the silliness ebbing away to make room for something more serious, you perk up, and your smile dims with concern.

But Sun eases away the wrinkles of worry with his thumb, soundlessly cupping your cheek and soothing you in a motion that makes your heart skip. You’ve noticed it doing that a lot lately. He takes the hand that’s listlessly clinging to his ray, curls his long fingers around it, and lifts it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. The wind is slow yet sharp, cutting into your bones. You instinctively huddle into your coat in a vain attempt to preserve some heat.

Sun tuts when you shiver and helps you slide your arms into the sleeves of your coat rather than just keep it around your shoulders.

“I should have brought my jacket up as well so you’d be at least a little warmer. Sorry about that.”

You snatch his hand back, which he gladly accepts.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine with you here. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sun chuffs, shaking his head but minding his rays so that they don’t prod or scrape you. His mouth twitches.

“You’re always so sweet, honeydew. Silly pet names aside, I hope you know that I’m only ever teasing you with them. When I’m not trying to be a romantic, that is, which is actually always, but regardless—”

“Romantic?” you interrupt softly.

This time, Sun’s eyes do widen. His rays pop out wider, and it’s the first time tonight he actually looks rattled.

“Oh! Oh goodness, I did just say that, didn’t I? Not that that isn’t exactly why I brought you up here in the first place, but I had intended to at least drop that particular piece of information with a little more delicateness. I don’t want to go scaring you off so soon before I’ve even had the chance to reach the second bullet point in the speech I’ve rehearsed and scrapped at least a thousand times, and— Oh dear, this isn’t how I’d planned things to go.”

“Sun,” you say as soon as he pauses. His rays begin speeding at your voice, and you resist the sudden desire to close the infinitesimally small space between you. But you do have an inkling of why he brought you up here, why Eclipse and Moon hung back to give you time alone with him.

The math is starting to add up. Surprisingly, even with your rapid fluctuation of heart-pounding excitement, you feel a calmness that reassures you. This is where you’re meant to be, with him.

“Be honest with me,” you request, and Sun nods emphatically. Dork, you think with full affection. You take a deep breath in, hold his gaze and the stars within, and then let your breath out. There’s nowhere else to go, but your feet still try to inch you closer. “Did you bring me up here to kiss me?”

A lull. Out here, it’s a little harder to hear Sun’s mechanisms working overtime, but the fact that you can hear them at all tells you he’s processing quite a bit. That already is a big hint of an answer, but you want to hear him say so yourself.

With an artificial exhale that layers an inexplicable tenderness, he says, “Well, it wasn’t an expectation, but I certainly would be lying if I said I wouldn’t like that. More than that, though, I just wanted to confess how I feel about you and go from there. But I suppose I am that transparent, aren’t I?”

Your cheeks are stretching again from your happiness.

“Don’t feel too bad. It took me until a certain conversation with Eclipse a few weeks ago to realize any of you had feelings for me.”

Another puff, this one exasperated.

“Yes, I'm aware. Honestly, we all thought we weren’t being subtle in the slightest. Even our coworkers noticed, dear.”

You wince and protest, “Okay, well, I thought they were just joking around! You can’t blame me for that. Especially since I thought you all were just playing too.”

“Which remains a mystery to me! I even asked you months ago if you wanted to practice kissing so that we could get it right during filming.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more.

The moment he’s referring to is vivid in your memory, only because you’ve thought about it more times than you’d like to admit and had just sadly written it off as Sun being his usual playful self. Yes, he was flirting, but you hadn’t thought he was flirting-flirting. Just that it was the usual game you all play. But still… months ago? Just how long have these three been trying to get your attention?

“You were flirting with me then?” you say quizzically.

Sun chuckles, and one of his arms winds around your waist. He holds you like the daintiest flower, and even you feel a flash of embarrassment over just how much you like that.

“As I said, a mystery. But like any good sleuth, I have a feeling that with your help, we can put our heads together and solve this case.”

You brighten immediately. There he is.

“Ah, I see,” you play along. “Taking inspiration from a certain show, hm? So what are your deductions, Detective Sun?”

“I’m so glad you asked! Because I have quite a few, but for the sake of time and the fact that the fireworks are soon to start, I’ll give you the cliff notes version and do away with any alleged speech, rehearsed or not.”

His palm is so warm around your cheek, hiding you from the cold as much as he can. You hardly even notice it when he’s embracing you like this. Your eyes search his, your entire being ready to latch onto his every word to lock it inside your heart and never let it go.

In the strongest sincerity you’ve ever heard from him, he says, unspeakably gently, “I like you. Not just as a friend, though you are without a doubt one of the best and closest I’ve ever had. I like you in the sense that I have fallen for you. Complete head over heels, tumbling-down-the-staircase kind of mess. I'm absolutely sure you know that by now, but if you don’t, I am not above paying to have it written in the sky so that it gets through your thick but lovable head.” His warning comes with a wagging finger, and you snort despite the unexpected mistiness creeping behind your eyelids again when you blink.

Sun’s fake glower softens to an incandescent warmth, pulling you in like a flower.

“The point is, I want to pursue this feeling with you, as do my brothers. I’m sure they’ve already told you. Heaven knows if I have to listen to Moon brag for another minute about getting a kiss from you tonight, I will lose my sanity. But I also heard from a little birdie that my brothers requested a little, hmm, how did they put it? A head start on the new year?”

You bite your lip. His scrutiny falls lower, and your uneven breath is a cloud of white smoke between you and him.

“Something like that,” you softly say.

Sun’s servos whistle a delighted song.

“I hope you’ll excuse me for being so bold because I’m about to be like that regardless,” he says, “but it sounds like they didn’t do the tradition properly at all. They seem to have missed one very crucial factor, and I think you know exactly what I mean. So with that in mind, precious, may I steal a kiss from you to make sure it’s done right?”

After a confession like that? You wind your arms around his neck, lips parting, blood pounding in your ears. He needn’t have even asked.

It takes a moment to find your voice, but you make sure it reaches him even as a whisper.

“As long as you promise to give it back.” Your fingers toy with the back of his silk tie.

You don’t mistake the way his arms tremble like he’s afraid to hold you any tighter.

His words fall on a cadence weighted down by obvious want.

“If that’s the price for stealing such a lovely treasure,” he respires synthetically, “then I might just have to pay it over and over again.”

In the next second, his mouth finds yours, pressing headily to your lips and threatening to consume you whole. You gasp against him, clinging to the back of his shirt needily while his hand crawls to the back of your head and cups it in a gentle hold so that he can better angle the kiss. His arm doesn’t constrict your waist, but he keeps you there with the assuredness that he doesn’t want to let you go, and his deep groan at your insistence to hold him even tighter makes you lightheaded.

The snowing has stopped, and the temperature has continued to only drop, but you couldn’t feel hotter. The flame inside of you bursts to life with a rush of a powerful emotion that would have once scared you away. Now you only tiptoe around it, not ready to reveal it yet but knowing that it is there, waiting and growing steadily every moment you spend with Sun and his brothers.

You tilt your head with a ragged exhale while Sun twines some of your hair between his fingers, not yanking but prompting a delicious tension that sends a wonderful pleasure through your skull. You’re shivering again, and it’s all his doing.

He writes intimacy and sentiment on your lips with his teeth, capturing every micro-breath you try to take, and still you try to press closer to him. He breaks the kiss for a split second that allows you all of one heightened inhale before he’s stealing that too, and you’re burning together in an addictive passion that you never want to unlearn. For as long as he’ll allow it, you want to know only the smooth curve of his mouth and the hot metal of his chassis that is flush with your chest and the distracting digits dragging along the back of your head and the protective line of his arm that coils around your waist with an equally firm hand securing you there.

That’s all you need to know in the moment.

When Sun parts from you, moving away first because he probably correctly guessed that you’d keep kissing him until you passed out, his eyes slip open halfway, and his grin is askew like he’s swooning. You’re sure you have a similar goofy look too, concealed just barely by the clouds of white that spill out along every exhale while your lungs hurt delightfully. The cold snap strengthens when yellow rays spin at such a fast pace, they’re almost invisible.

The world is near-silent up here, city activity sounding so far away that it doesn’t disturb this perfect peace you’ve found. You don’t want to break the quiet and risk it all being a figment of your imagination once more. So you watch in wonder at how Sun peers at you intently, like he’s fascinated by whatever sight you make.

He braves cutting the silence first, albeit with a far-from-intrusive volume.

“Hmm, how was that? Do you think we got it right, or should we try again?”

You exhale long and slow. The white cloud of air billows.

“I don’t see how it could possibly be more perfect than that.” You adore the way Sun melts at your admission. “At this point, I’m just waiting to wake up.”

The solar animatronic pauses. His rays twist again, back and forth as if in uncertainty.

“From a dream or a nightmare?” he presses.

“A dream, silly.” You fondly shake your head. “Just seems like I’ve been imagining having this for so long, it doesn’t feel real. You, Moon, and Eclipse. I’m worried I’ll blink and be back in my own bed again, alone.”

The hand at your side taps a little rhythm. Sun’s nervousness vanishes as quick as a spring shower.

“I’m afraid to break the news to you,” he says, “but if those are the dreams you’re having, I won’t be waking you up anytime soon.”

You receive a quick kiss on the nose, which makes you twitch and Sun coo at that. You get him back with a kiss to the corner of his teeth. His wavering thrum of pleasure draws out until it morphs into a frustrated groan.

It’s your turn for concern.

“What’s wrong?”

Sun grunts, “Nothing, nothing. Just reminded that I am sadly not an only child.”

“What?”

He inclines his head at something behind you, and you turn in his arms to see what he’s looking at, much to his disheartened whine.

Just beyond the pool room next to the glass door that requires a key to enter, Moon stands there in the hallway, pressed to the glass and a dead grin on his face. His red pupils nearly take up the entirety of his optics. Eclipse is not too far off, but he’s at least giving you some sense of privacy by not staring your way.

Moon gives you a little wave.

You turn back to Sun.

“You know those videos people post of their pets watching them from the window?”

Sun releases a loud, rumbling hiss of static amusement.

“Oh, don’t let them hear you say that. I’m pretty sure at least one of those two in there bites.”

“But not you?” you quip, elbowing him.

Blue flickers against white.

“Only if you ask me to.”

Right then. Probably should have seen that one coming from a mile away.

“Raincheck,” you deflect. “Let’s let the others out first before they miss the fireworks.”

Sun dramatically releases you with a disappointed flair fitting for the stage, but he does as you request.

“I’ll go get the door. You wait right there, precious.”

You watch him skitter over back around the outdoor pool, through the door into the pool room, and then over to the door where his brothers wait. As soon as he tries to open it, a strange sort of tug of war begins where Sun attempts to pull one way, and Moon pulls just as hard on the other side. Judging by his expression, he’s doing it just for the sake of being a brat. The two engage in some back and forth, and though you can’t hear them, you can see Sun’s annoyance and Moon’s pure delight. It’s broken up finally by Eclipse grabbing the back of Moon’s coat and lifting him up like he’s scruffing a cat. Moon doesn’t even put up a fight, seemingly appeased that he sufficiently got under his other brother’s wires.

Once Eclipse sets him back down, Sun opens the door, and the three of them traipse through the pool room to the rooftop exit.

“I should have just left you in there!” Sun is saying as he throws open the door with a harrumph. “Honestly, you’re just so unnecessarily much sometimes!”

“Worth it,” Moon returns, unaffected by his sibling’s agitation. He lights up when he spies you.

“Moonie,” you tease as he approaches, “are you annoying your brother again on purpose?”

“No,” Moon says at the same time Sun gives an annoyed “yes.”

“It’s sibling tax,” he clarifies, coming to a stop next to you.

You tsk.

“I’d be careful if I were you. That sibling tax might come at a cost if Sun decides to do something like throw your hat off the building.”

You’ve barely finished the sentence before dark blue and silver digits are slamming onto the brim of Moon’s hat. He sends a dirty scowl at his brother who’s more than intrigued at the prospect by the sounds of it.

His voice is gruff and disapproving at you.

“Don’t give him ideas.”

Sun snips back, “Don’t be a varmint then.”

While the bickering continues, you find yourself mouthing varmint in confusion at Eclipse. He just shakes his head, equally bemused.

“Three minutes to midnight,” he announces over the sounds of ill-timed threats, probably to redirect his brothers’ focus.

You face the harbor. Sun stands sullenly at your side, and you startle in initial surprise when two arms slide over your shoulders from behind and loosely cross your chest. You sag against Eclipse, idly reaching up to rub one of his wrists as the approaching hour and year looms before you. It’s crazy to you how in such a short amount of time, you’ve grown so comfortable with the celestial brothers. Like something you’ve come to expect and especially welcome. The meaning and intent behind that comfort is the only part that’s shifted, and the change is one that leaves you undeniably giddy.

You’ve celebrated New Year’s Eve before, but never like this. Not with people who mean the world to you in ways you can’t even describe. It’s an entirely new course of life that you’re about to start with them, tentatively exploring this uncharted territory together, and the thought stirs up your curiosity.

What lies ahead? Not just relationship-wise, though that’s something you doubt you could really fathom with all the nuances you will surely find. The unknowing surrounding it actually gives you some relief. You don’t have to stress over and evaluate your every move. Whatever happens with them—with Sun, Moon, and Eclipse—will happen naturally. It’s cause for excitement, which has you shivering from more than just the cold now.

But you find your mind drifting to what will come after this show is finished. You’ve gotten so used to being with them at most hours of the day because you work together. What will it be like afterwards when the time you have with them will be reserved for coming home to a full apartment and making new memories in a much more intimate setting? Where will their talent take them next?

Before you can second-guess yourself, you broach the topic.

“Earlier tonight, I asked you what you’re doing after this,” you say, feeling the heavy weight of the attention from all three. You wet your dry lips. “And Moon was too busy being a gremlin to let me get a straight answer.”

The corners of Moon’s mouth scrunch up, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“What I really meant back there was… what are you guys going to do after our show is over? Do you have any gigs lined up?”

“Not quite.” Sun clasps his hands together. “But our agent did tip us about a possible dual leviathan role that myself and Moon might consider. It’d mean a lot of CGI, but we would get to wear those funky motion capture suits with the little dots all over them! So who knows. We might just end up trying out for that.”

Your lips quirk in bemusement as you try to imagine it.

“Don’t you need to be, I don’t know, swimming in order to act out a big, scary leviathan?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Moon dismisses, and he leans back against the rooftop balcony. The gentle crimson glow when he studies you is like dying stars in this low light. “If anything, it will be a chance to challenge ourselves in not using our voices as much unless they decide to make the leviathans capable of speech. What Sun said does have its appeal, and we’d probably get to experience some wire acrobatics. But I also think we’d have fun trying our hands at something spooky. Maybe with cryptids or familiars or lifeguards. We’re great at being scary, you know.”

Your face wrinkles.

“One of those is not like the others.”

“You just haven’t seen me acting as a demon yet.”

“I see you act like that every day,” you say evenly to the tune of Sun’s and Eclipse’s ensuing chortles and Moon’s sharp squint. “Wouldn’t really call that one the outlier of the ideas you suggested.”

“Whatever the case, Clip hasn’t decided where he’ll go next either,” Sun adds, earning a noise of agreement from the animatronic behind you. “I heard there might be potential for a third role in the leviathan storyline, but it would be a prequel of sorts. Curious how they’re planning on pulling that one off.”

“They really do plan ahead, huh?” You tap a finger on your arm, and your gaze is pulled to the winter night sky once more. It is so beautiful up here.

“And what about you?” Eclipse chimes next. “Where will you go after this?”

A hum stirs from your throat.

You’re not sure yet. There is a realm of possibilities stretching out before you. The time to contact your acting agent is nearing, and you feel a strong curl of melancholy at the show you’ve put your heart and soul into coming to its end. It’s been a wild ride, and the memories you’ve gained from your experiences will follow you long after you’ve parted ways with the show. But as Sun said, who knows? Maybe one day you’ll find yourself slipping back into your vigilante costume again and playing a game of chase with a pair of handsome detectives.

You look to your boys, standing with you in the cold and enjoying the seclusion from the rest of the city.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet,” you answer truthfully. You reach out, and without hesitation, Sun and Moon each take your offered hands, one after the other, large metal joints protecting your fragile fingers from the bitter chill. “But no matter where I end up, I’m sure that it won’t be the same without working next to you.”

Sun holds you tighter.

“True, it will be impossible to ever replace the amazing cohorts that we were. But that’s why you’ve got us to come home to now, yes?”

His happy expression reflects back onto you. He’s right. You have a lot to explore now, don’t you? And it all starts with them.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t worry about the future now. After all, I’ve only got two hands.”

Moon’s optics gleam dangerously with his ever-present grin.

“Don’t forget your third one,” he says, nodding surreptitiously behind you.

You start to turn, but before you can, Eclipse’s voice grazes your ear.

“Oh, they won’t.”

Cold metal just barely singes you as a large hand brushes under your chin and tilts your head up until you can see him hovering over you. His eyes are flames in the dark, shining upon you with the intensity of a celestial body. His rays have begun to whirl, and you think it might be because of the wind because it sorely reminds you of a pinwheel, and you have to choke back a laugh. It’s not hard to do when his fingertips caress your skin, snaring your focus and dragging a plume of air past your lips.

“No,” you agree warmly. “I won’t.”

Your inhale stutters right back out when the animatronic stoops down low enough to press a kiss to your forehead before letting your chin go. The sound of a piercing whistle and thunderous boom retrieves your attention, bringing it to the harbor as the first crackles of color light up the night.

The ensuing display is breathtaking. The subtle smell of smoke from the fireworks catches on the wind and carries over to your group as you watch in awe the dawning of a new year. It’s heralded by sparks of intricate designs and blooms that make you squeeze the hands you’re holding on to, savoring the twin pulses you receive in turn. The presence at your back is a solid wall shielding you from the cold as much as possible, heavy arms a comfort that drape loosely around your front.

As you enjoy the fireworks with Moon, Eclipse, and Sun, you can’t help but smirk at what your beloved vigilante would have to say to this. No doubt they’d believe it to be some fever dream, and honestly, up until tonight, you’d thought the same. You’re certain that the smooth operative nature of the brothers’ teamwork to subdue your heart is almost identical to a parallel universe of a different era and a different story—one you can imagine as surely as the ringing of bells in your hair.

Just, you know. Under very different circumstances and outcomes.

For the next half hour, you relish the colorful nighttime display with your boys, all the way up to and through the grand finale. By the time the show ends, you are shaking from the cold, but it’s worth it for the special moment you get to share with them. Everything melds together in a joyous night that follows you all the way back home with the three animatronics whom you adore. Perhaps one day, you might even have the courage to confess that you love them, even though you have a strong suspicion they already know that, confession or no. It’s a comfort to know that just like with everything else, they’ll wait for you first.

But that’s a story for another time.

#eclipse x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sleuth jesters actor au #fnaf sb #writing tag #hope you all enjoy sweet and kind Eclipse while he lasts #because after this I'm jumping back into the other AU where he lives and makes it everyone's problem lol

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lynzishell · 10 months

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Sophia: I’m starving! Has anyone ordered the pizza yet? Aurelio: It’s on the way. Sophia: Thank god! Wolfgang: Hope everyone’s okay with beer cos that’s all I brought. Aurelio: Beer is good, let me know how much I owe you. Wolfgang: We can negotiate payment later. (Aurelio gives him a wink) Sophia: Ugh, you two are gonna make me lose my appetite. Morgan: You think they’re bad, wait til we’re stuck in a room with Phoenix and Greta! Sophia: Good point.

Phoenix: So, what are we doing tomorrow? Aurelio: I think most of us are snowboarding. We should get out early before it gets busy. Pretty sure there are spare boards and stuff in the storage room, so you don’t have to rent anything. Phoenix: That'd be great. I take it I’ll be the only one with no idea what I’m doing? Wolfgang: Pretty much, try not to hurt yourself.

Greta: This is Luna’s first time too. We’re going on the bunny slopes in the morning if you want to join us. Phoenix: Bunny slope?

Wolfgang snickers. Aurelio kicks him softly under the table. Aurelio: They’re the small ones closest to us. You only have to go down once or twice to get the feel of it, then you can move on. Phoenix: Alright.

After eating everyone moves into the living room to hang out a bit before heading to bed. Greta lays down, resting her head on Phoenix’s lap. He moves to let her settle in and rests his hand on her shoulder. Phoenix: Comfy? Greta: Mhm Soon, Sophia picks up a guitar and starts tuning it. Aurelio whispers something to her, she nods and starts to play.

Morgan, getting excited, shushes Phoenix and nods her head toward the music coming from the other side of the room. He looks up and then Sophia begins to sing. He listens in awe, he had no idea she could sing like that.

Taking him by surprise, Aurelio joins in for the chorus. Their two voices balance each other perfectly, and everyone gets lost in the music. He thinks he even sees Luna wipe a tear from her eye. As the song concludes, everyone claps and cheers. Sophia runs over to Morgan with a huge smile.

Morgan: So, this is what you two have been working on? Sophia: Yeah, what’d you think? Morgan: I loved it!

Greta glances up at Phoenix. Greta: Aren’t they great? Phoenix: Yeah, they sounded incredible… I had no idea… Was that an original song? Greta: Yep, they’ve been working on it for weeks. Phoenix: I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. Greta: More fun to surprise you, I guess.

Wolfgang stands and goes to Aurelio. Aurelio: What’d you think? Without answering, Wolfgang climbs on his lap and kisses him. Aurelio: So, it was ok then? Wolfgang nods, kissing him again.

Phoenix is surprised to see a softer side of Wolfgang and decides he should probably try to get on with him better. He’s clearly important to Aurelio, even if he won't admit it.

Luna reaches up and gives Greta’s hand a squeeze. Luna: Hey guys, I’m getting tired. I’m gonna head up to bed.

Wolfgang breaks away from Aurelio. Wolfgang: Yeah, us too. Aurelio: mhmm

Greta: Do you want me to come with you? Luna: No, you can stay up, I’m ok.

Luna catches Morgan’s eye and motions her head toward the door. Morgan: Oh yeah, Soph, we should get to sleep too. Early morning and all.

Phoenix and Greta chuckle when they realize everyone left them alone on purpose. Greta: They’re good friends. Phoenix: Indeed.

The two sit up to chat. Phoenix: So, feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but what’s Luna’s deal? Greta: Um, her deal? Phoenix: Well, I don’t mean it like that, I just mean… She’s so quiet. I think her saying goodnight tonight was the most I’ve heard her speak since we got here. And I notice you stay with her a lot, check in with her... I’m just curious. And, again, you can tell me to mind my own business. Greta: Well, she’s always been super shy and quiet… but last year was pretty rough for her. I don’t know how much she’d want me to tell you, so I’ll just say that she went through a lot. She struggles with being alone sometimes, especially at night.

Phoenix: I’m sorry to hear that. Greta: She’s doing better though. Coming here is actually a big step for her. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you soon. Once she does, she’ll be a lot more talkative. Phoenix: You’re a really good friend.

As she smiles at him and scoots in closer, he has an overwhelming feeling that he doesn’t deserve her.

Greta: Well, you are a really good boyfriend. Phoenix: Oh yeah? Greta: mhmm

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Komorebi Mountain Lodge - Built by jennalonghill on the Gallery

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 challenge #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #phoenix realta #greta laurent #luna villareal #morgan fyres #sophia bjergson #aurelio robles #wolfgang munch

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maggotbxby · 9 months

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Coup De Grâce - Deadite Ellie x OC/Reader - Chapter One

"and the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever" Revelation 20:10

Or...

Greta is a God-fearing, wannabe actress with a particularly strange family history, and an impressive talent of stumbling upon disgusting scenes. When tragedy strikes her home in an old LA high-rise, she quickly realizes her fate may be much more twisted than she was brought up to believe.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,349

TW: Religious Trauma; Gore; Suicidal Thoughts; Violence; Everything in Evil Dead Rise.

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This building is dead.

It died a month ago when the landlord dropped letters in our mail slots letting us all know we have to be out by next month. He didn't even give us the courtesy of calling, just a print and copied half-assed apology letter to the tenants who pay out their livelihoods every month in rent so he can buy a new Ferrari and not fix the lights.

It’s not that I want to be here, particularly. There is just no other apartment on this side of LA that I would be able to afford. No others would even consider me, if I could. No stable job and a 480 credit score doesn't bode well with most landlords.

A category 5 earthquake was just a death blow, and exactly what I needed to truly understand it was, in fact, God's will for me to return to Tennessee.

The apartment is nearly pitch dark, even with the couple of candles I lit. A blackout coming with the aftershocks while I was packing explains a lot about how my luck has been the past few weeks. It’s as quiet as the dead, aside from the typical moans and groans of the old building. If my neighbors weren't stomping around, I would consider it eerie.

I sit on a rickety stool that came with the place as I sort through my papers. Every tiny shift in my body causes the stool to creak and groan, just like the rest of the wretched building, so I try to be perfectly still.

The candlelight picks up my papers just enough for me to sort through them and chuck them into boxes- or the trash. It's nearly 10:00 and on a normal night I wouldn't keep packing, especially during a post-earthquake blackout, but I want out of this place as quickly as possible, and if I have to suffer for a while to do that, I will.

I pick up a folder on my desk, and even in the dark I recognize it as my portfolio- or my pathetic excuse of one. I open it up to see my year-old headshots and my resume. I’ve never been a bad actress, particularly, I’ve just been bad at landing roles. Sure, maybe I didn't work hard enough to find a manager, but even if I had, my off-screen charisma has always been lacking. I scored one decent role in a film, only for it to be scrapped halfway through production. But I have kept trying, I tried theater, I tried commercials, I even tried volunteering into the musical theater at my local church; I’ve tried lots of things.

Because my father left me on this earth alone, and try is all that I can do.

I need to keep living, for reasons undisclosed to even my own mind.

I tell myself that my father left because God wanted him to come home. He spent years of his life driving out evil spirits, freeing tormented souls from the clutches of the Devil, and maybe God thought his work was done? I like to believe that over the probable truth that his fear overcame him; that what he has been running from his entire life finally caught up to him. There is a devotion to God and, with it, a fear of the Devil that has been passed down for generations throughout my family. My father, and many men before him, suffered because of it.

But if God called my father home, what does that tell me about our home? Does God not care about our family? Why wouldn't he take both of us? No matter what I have done to myself after he died, the agony I have both endured and inflicted upon myself, I am still here. So maybe I do have a purpose on this earth. Or maybe God doesn't want me in His Kingdom at all.

I remain faithful that these thoughts are untrue. I pray to God every day and every night. I spread His word to those I meet, and I follow His guidance in everything I do, so maybe that’s why I'm still here.

Packing my, and the rest of my fathers belongings a second time has my mind cruelly bogged with memories, scents, feelings; just pure sentimentality. I have never been host to it before, being estranged from the rest of my family young never granted me the privilege. I do not have the patience for it. My body aches as I look at my shattered dreams, and I feel something cold and awful prick at the throbbing muscle inside my chest, frigid claws that dig deep into my being and tear away so subtly.

My anger gets the better of me and I throw the folder into the trash, causing it to topple over and spill papers and garbage all over the floor. Tears of exhaustion and frustration well up in my eyes, and I grip the sides of my head in my hands and bite back a scream. I will not let myself cry over this. I created this problem, I have to dig -or well, clean- myself out of it.

I admit, I am an exposed nerve, and have been for the last year, my father's death having ripped off my epineurium.

I hop up from the stool, making it creak wretchedly, scraping the wooden floor, and I grab a broom from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

It’s because it is so quiet that I hear footsteps outside my door.

In most apartments, this wouldn't come as a surprise but considering I live around a corner, at the end of the hall, on the top floor, it’s a bit odd to have foot traffic this late. I tend to be left alone down here, no one vying to get in aside from the rats and dust bunnies.

I keep cleaning, because if someone has come to rob me, they will surely be disappointed, and if they have come to kidnap or kill me, my weak body and dry-rotten broomstick surely aren't going to stop them.

The steps draw closer, and I can hear their breathing; sharp, heavy, fast. The pattering footsteps stop but the breathing doesn't, however it draws farther away.

My curiosity gets the best of me, and I slowly approach the peephole in the door. I take in a deep breath only to relax when I see it’s one of the neighbor kids, peering around my little back corner out into the long-stretched hallway with the other apartments. I can’t see that hallway from my room, however.

The moment of relaxation is cut short as I realize the kid is crying. His eyes are wide and red, and his breath is quick, like a rabbit being hunted by a fox.

Then I hear a scream coming from the hallway.

Then another.

The child is still hiding around the corner and even though I can’t see what he’s hiding from, everything in my nature tells me it is something he needs to get away from, now. I go to open the door and before I can unlock the deadbolt, the kid takes a mad dash down the long hallway.

…

……

...……

Another scream.

A thud.

My eyes well up in tears of panic and fear as I stand frozen, staring out of the peephole. I see nothing, but I hear everything.

Screaming, crying, ripping, squelching, banging, a gunshot.

Laughing.

Across that sequence of events, which lasted all of 3 minutes, I decided to make peace with death. Because it is all that I can do.

Then it goes quiet again. This time the quiet is eerie. No loud neighbors, no footsteps, nothing.

The air at the top of the high rise is thin, always has been, but trying to breathe it in during a panic feels like there is no air left at all. My hands shake, my chest feels as if it is about to explode. I unlock my cell phone and dial 911 only to be met with a repetitive beep. The earthquake took out the cell towers, of course. Self-preservatory panic overstimulates my senses and I drop to my knees at the door in a terrified heap. I cannot stop the sobs that choke out of my throat, and I fear even my body knows that whoever- or whatever is out there is going to come for me soon.

I clasp my hands and bow my head as I sob out the only thing I can “The lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death; I fear no evil; for you are with me.”

I whisper prayers until my voice is hoarse. Because that is all that I can do. If anyone saw me at this moment I would be mortified. My neighbors are being attacked just outside my door and I have done nothing . But what can I do? Face a mass murderer by myself. Whoever is out there hasn't been stopped by the entire floor of people. They're a predator, and I am just as much a lamb to be slaughtered as anyone.

What I do need, is to get out of this place.

My mind is frequently unreliable, especially with time, however I have been hyperfocused on sounds tonight and I can confidently say the hallway has been pretty silent for at least 10 minutes now.

This can mean one of two things:

Everyone here except me got the hell out of this building, because they didn’t hide in their apartments like cowards, and the authorities are on their way.

Or everyone here except me has been killed, because they didn’t hide in their apartments, and ran out like idiots, and I am just waiting for my turn to face death as well.

Regardless of the right answer, staying in my apartment is going to get me nowhere. The only available exits are the elevator -which is a terrible option post-earthquake- or the stairs, both of which are at the end of the hall.

I get up from my heap on the floor and scour my apartment to grab the rest of my essentials to get out of here. I toss my phone, keys, wallet, and bible all into my purse, and I slowly and quietly unlock the deadbolt.

The moment I put my hand on the door handle to pull it open I feel my stomach sink and my body tense. The narrow hallway feels like a chute, and I feel as soon as I turn the corner my executioner will be waiting with a captive bolt ready to be driven into my skull.

I take two quiet steps outside my door towards the other hallway and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my heart threatens to crash its way out of my chest, sending a painful wave of thunder to my wrists and my neck. The sheer force of my blood pressure reverberates into my ears. I keep my body to the wall and clutch my bag to satisfy my brain’s need to have leverage and I use every ounce of courage in my body to peer around the corner into the hallway and-

Corpses.

There are corpses.

Horrifying, mutilated corpses of my neighbors. The corpse of the child who, if I was a second faster, could have been brought into my apartment.

Skin sloughed from muscle, muscle from bone and I am sick sick sick sick si-

The putrid, infectious scent of bile, blood, and exposed flesh makes its way to me, and by some miracle I do not vomit but my body doubles over, and my eyes and mouth are pooling while a black haze creeps into the borders of my field of view.

When I glance up, the sensible part of my brain makes my obscured vision focus on the only thing still moving in the hallway.

I, as anyone who knew her would, recognize her from the tattoos on her exposed flesh and the distinct red hair on her head, Ellie Bixler.

But very much not Ellie Bixler.

Her skin is pale and gray with death, and she is caked in blood and bits of everything that are no longer inside my neighbors' bodies. The curve of her arm is made jagged, and My God limbs are not meant to bend that way.

I suddenly believe that every prayer I have ever spoken has come to protect me at this moment, as she somehow does not notice me while she is focused on what I think is the door to her own apartment. I do not let my luck go to waste as I rush back behind the wall, out of sight of anyone in that hallway.

The quiet I got too comfortable with finally comes to an end in what I assume is the sound of her breaking, or trying to break through her door.

I peer around the corner like an idiot in some sick daze of infatuation when I hear the scream of a child.

Ellie is pushed halfway into her apartment, holding onto what I can only imagine is her youngest daughter, Kassie. Someone else inside the room comes to help as the door is slammed onto Ellie’s arm and she recoils back into the hallway.

She then throws herself into the door, furiously banging on it.

“OPEN THE DOOR LIKE YOU OPEN YOUR LEGS YOU STINKING GROUPIE SLUT!”

The voice sounds like a twisted, savage, faux version of my neighbor’s and I feel the overwhelming urge to vomit again as I dart back into hiding, and I take the opportunity of the noise to rush back to my apartment.

The contents of my stomach do end up on my floor after I close and lock the apartment behind myself.

I despise vomiting. Tragically, I was cursed with a weak stomach and an impressive ability to stumble upon revolting sights. A deadly combination only I could be so lucky to have.

I do not think to clean up the vomit on the floor that will soon be covered in my own blood when I am inevitably found.

I quickly realize as my body autopilots into my bedroom, that spilling my guts combined with a severe spike in adrenaline has given me three things; sharp chest pain, energy renewal, and a massive degree of mania.

I now know what I need to do.

I haven't touched these books since I moved out of Tennessee, not that I should have. Every time they have been opened they consume the one who opens them. My father was constantly buried in these writings, wasting his life trying to make something of them. Something that would allow our family to repent from the sins of our ancestors. I have never been so unlucky to read them, until now.

I know exactly where I hid them. I drop to the floor in front of the old, dusty armoire that came with the apartment, that definitely should have been thrown out years before I moved in here.

I flatten myself on the splintery floor and snake an arm under it, finding what I was looking for. I pull out the wooden box and rise to my knees as I pop open the latch. There is a stack of 3 handwritten journals. Journals scrawled by my great-great Grandfather, Marcus Littleton.

My body quivers, and adrenaline and fear flow through my veins as I pull one of the journals out of the box, illuminated by the moonlight.

I take the box and journal to my desk. I re-light the candle upon my desk and I open the treacherous tome up. My heart is frightened; however, my mind is set.

I have heard my father describe demons for the entirety of my life. ‘Twisted, rotting corpses intent on causing chaos, destruction, and pain everywhere they are found.’

I never fully believed his tales. Of course I didn’t, there was never any public recordings of such events. His stories were from the 1920’s, it could have been nothing but hearsay. Hearsay that he lived and died for. Hearsay that, if I do nothing, I will also die for.

He never let me touch these books when he was alive, he kept them hidden for himself. When I inherited them, I never opened the box. Partially because I respected my fathers wishes, partially because I didn't want to become consumed in them as he was. My father and I always were alike.

The handwriting of my great-great grandfather is sloppy, and every word is abbreviated, shortened, or misspelled. These books were scrawled in a panic. I knew this. I was, however, never told the extent. I skim through the most legible parts of the pages, many words and phrases unreadable.

“The words I uttered have unleashed a demonic entity beyond my darkest nightmares”

“The book, it cannot be destroyed.”

“Their bodies twisted, decaying.”

“Rotted from the inside out.”

“It does not stop.”

“The possession will spread.”

“They will tear you apart, and bathe in your guts.”

“Run.”

“It cannot be stopped until innocence is destroyed.”

“I cannot escape this.”

“It's going to get me soon.”

I slam the book shut. My body trembles so wildly I begin to spasm. My heart is beating as fast as a racehorse’s and my breathing refuses to slow. The fear of being discovered from the thing just outside my apartment is the only thing keeping me from screaming.

The chicken scratch writing described a book. I have heard about this book for years. A book that was hidden away for the good of humanity. My father wanted to keep us as far away from Los Angeles for a reason. He never knew where the book was hidden away, but he knew it had to be here.

And of course, it would make total, logical sense, that by some absolute joke from God, out of all the old buildings in this city, I manage to land an apartment in the one the book was being held at.

Or perhaps I really am cursed, and some sick string of fate brought me here to die and end my family's bloodline.

The only way this could be happening is if someone found the book. My father always said, ‘They have no power without the book, so long as the words aren't spoken.’ I’m hoping he is right. If he is, maybe there is something in the book that can be used to save whoever is left in the building. Something my great-great grandfather missed.

There is only one problem.

I have absolutely no idea where the book is.

This building has 14 floors, and hundreds of tenants. It would be nearly impossible for me to find it without a mass murderer trying to kill everything in its sight.

The chaos does seem to be contained to this floor, and by the looks of it, Ellie is the only one causing it. That could potentially narrow it down to someone on this floor having it, unless of course Ellie was just the unlucky one, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could have been anyone.

Ellie Bixler didn't deserve this. The journal said the souls of those taken were corrupted by the demon, damning them to burn in hell while their body and partial consciousness remains to wreak havoc among men. Ellie Bixler does not deserve hell.

------------

Ellie Bixler was one of the first faces I saw when I moved to this treacherous place. Moving alone was a nightmare, especially moving alone into the top floor of a high-rise, into the apartment farthest from the elevator.

I thought the nightmare was ending when I got to the last boxes in the truck. However, when I picked them up, and almost toppled over with the weight of them, I realized my bad luck streak continued. I glanced at the label on the top box and sighed—of course it would be my dishes. I hear the ding of the elevator and feel a sudden whoosh of thankfulness.

“Hold the elevator!” I called, hoping that whoever was inside of it heard me. But seeing as I didn’t run into the doors, they must have. “Thank you," I said breathlessly, in passing, and then slumped against the wall of the elevator, balancing the bottom box on my thighs.

“Do you need some help?”

I peered around my stack of boxes to see the woman who had been kind enough to hold the elevator door for me; she was still standing there, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, dark blue ripped jeans, and leather boots. She wasn't dressed like the women I grew up around in the Bible Belt, that's for sure. And judging by her dyed red hair and tattoos, I would guess she didn't act like them either. She was staring at me hesitantly with blue eyes that looked as exhausted as I felt.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” I said quickly, disappearing back behind the boxes once I realized I had been staring a few moments too long at the gorgeous, courteous stranger while looking like I had been hit by a bus. “Thank you, though.”

There was a soft hum of contemplation, and then, a few moments later, a swish of the elevator doors sliding closed. I slumped against the elevator wall, thankful that I wouldn't have to converse with my new neighbor while coated with dirt and sweat.

“I think I have to insist, then.”

I jolted up so quickly that the box on the top wobbled precariously, only for it to be slipped off the stack and into the arms of the tall stranger. I stared at her, eyes wide, as the woman slouched under the weight of the box and flushed, before straightening up and smiling at me.

“Um.” I cringed at myself. What a way to be eloquent. “Thank you, but you really didn’t—”

“I know,” the woman smiled back. “What’s your number?”

I blinked in surprise.

“Excuse me?” There was no way this lady just asked for my number. Who did she think she was?

The woman’s mouth fell open and she was immediately blushing. Her brow furrowed and she chuckled awkwardly, shaking her head. “Your floor… Number. Is what I meant. For the elevator?”

Oh . I looked over at the rows of glowing white buttons; I hadn’t pressed the floor number when I rushed in.

“Oh, yeah! Right!” I replied awkwardly, still not looking at the woman. I shouldn’t have felt bad—after all, this stranger is the one who said it—but I couldn’t help feeling like I was the one who made everything uncomfortable.

“Fourteen,” I finally replied, sighing, after clearing my throat. The woman grinned, a big beautiful smile, and pressed the button.

“Well hello neighbor! I’m on 14 as well, apartment 85.” I looked back over at her sheepishly. “Expect to climb a lot of stairs. This elevator is out of order more often than it’s working.”

“Of course it is,” I commented dryly. Well, at least it appeared to be working on the day I needed it to be. Hopefully that luck holds true for grocery days, too. I thought. “Stairs aren’t a problem. Besides, it gives me an excuse to drink a third cup of coffee in the mornings.”

The woman laughed. “Sometimes I need at least five. Don’t have kids.” the stranger joked.

“You have kids?” I asked.

“Three.” She started, “Two sweet girls, Bridget and Kassie. And my boy, Danny, who is always the culprit if you hear loud music coming from my place.”

“Wow you've got a handful then.” I replied. “I’ve always wanted kids… but it doesn’t seem in my cards anymore.” I winced, and wanted to kick myself so bad for accidentally sounding super melancholic.

The woman nodded kindly, smart enough not to pry. Or maybe she just didn't want to entertain depressing, deep conversation with someone she met less than 3 minutes ago.

“I’d shake your hand…” the woman said, her voice hesitant as if she could sense the awkward tension in the elevator, “but…” she glanced pointedly at the box, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“I appreciate the concern for my dishes.”

“Dishes,” she said, staring at the box. “Well, that explains things.”

Like the fact that it’s a lot heavier than you thought it would be , I thought, and couldn't hold in my chuckle.

“My name’s Ellie.” The stranger—or Ellie, apparently—looked over at me. “By the way. Since we’re… Going to be neighbors.” This time, Ellie was the one who cringed.

“Well then, neighbor.” I stressed the word around my smile. “I’m Greta.”

“Greta.” Ellie said. My name sounded so pleasant coming from her lips compared to my own. I quickly eliminated that thought from my mind.

“Ellie.” I intoned in the same manner, and Ellie laughed. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open; Ellie inclined her head, as if to say you first , and I nod as I step through the doors.

“I probably should have warned you that I live all the way at the end of the hall.” I shifted the box in my arms and glanced over at Ellie. “Before you decided to be a good samaritan.”

“I’m always a good samaritan,” Ellie responded, her tone of voice slightly defensive.

“Careful. You told me where you live. I might abuse that.” That sounded a lot creepier than I meant it, but Ellie just laughed, which slightly lifted my embarrassment.

I stepped through the doors of my apartment. I didn’t expect Ellie to be impressed—chances are we had the same exact apartment, hers just… properly decorated—so rather than trying to play the role of host, I simply led Ellie straight to where I put the box containing my disassembled Ikea kitchen table.

Ellie did, however, let out a low whistle as she looked around.

“Wow, you’ve been at this all day, haven't you?” She slipped the box on top of the Ikea box while I laid mine on the floor.

“Yes, tragically. I slept on the floor and left the truck full of my non-essential stuff last night. Looking back, I definitely should have gotten robbed.”

“Long drive then?”

“You could say that.. Knoxville.” I sighed.

“You're telling me you drove here… from Tennessee?” She looked at me, eyes wide in shock. “With seemingly no help?”

“Just me and god.” Ellie laughed at that, but then caught herself when she noticed my expression, and the cross on my necklace, and realized I was serious.

“Well, then… I’d be happy to help, if you’d like?”

“That’s really nice of you, Ellie, but I’m afraid you're just too late. Those were my last boxes.”

“I have impeccable timing, huh?”

“Seems like it.” We both laughed, a bit awkwardly.

“What brought you all the way to the City of Angels?” Ellie interjected, cutting the awkward tension once again.

I breathed a heavy sigh, “It’s a long story…”

“Well, you could tell it, if you come have dinner with me.”

I recoiled, “I couldn’t- No. No thank you, I really should start putting all this stuff away.”

Ellie put her hand on my arm, “I insist. My husband, Jay, is making steak tonight and when he cooks, he cooks for a village.” Not that 3 children isn't a village.

I flinched, then relaxed slightly under the hand on my arm, I looked up at Ellie, contemplating, but there was little I would do to argue. I was exhausted, and I shouldn’t decline free food, even from a stranger. “I suppose I can't say no.”

------------

That night was the first, and the only time in a long time I felt safe.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Ellie outside of that night. She was a very busy woman, and I was constantly trying to find work, or locking myself in my apartment stressing about trying to find work. I often passed her in the hallway, or stopped to chat while doing laundry, but that was the extent. For the most part.

We were also very different, spiritually and morally. She wasn’t religious and I was not going to try and convert an entire family of 5. Our lives were just very different, as much as I felt drawn to her. I often, for some reason, constantly had the gnawing ache to go back to her apartment and spend time with her, and just be in her presence more than I should. It’s a feeling I have felt before, when I was young, and something deep rooted in my consciousness told me I shouldn’t give into that ache.

‘For god cannot be tempted by desire, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed.’

I found out about her divorce when we crossed paths in the hall. It came as a shock, to an extent. Externally they seemed like the perfect couple, but being their neighbor, I had heard a fair number of screaming matches between the two of them. Divorce is something my family has always been against, especially when there are children involved; however, I believe that God would forgive Ellie if her husband abandoned her.

Ellie was a kind person; Ellie does not deserve Hell.

Ellie’s family –by the looks of it– is still alive in her apartment. As long as no one in the apartment has been possessed, it is possible they can be saved.

I just have to, you know, get there, without the demon in the hall ripping me to shreds before I take a step.

I sit at my desk, chewing on my cheek as I think out the most insane, ludicrous plan to save my neighbors, and to free my family from this book that has haunted us for generations.

There is an estimated 10 percent chance of getting out of this alive, but there are little alternative options.

There was a shotgun in the hallway.

If I can get ahold of it, and subdue Ellie long enough for her family to let me in, I can get ahold of the book, and with it, and my great-great grandfather's journals, I could find a way to get us all out alive.

That is, if they will even let me in, and if the book is even with Ellie’s family. This is where my odds drop further.

This plan is flawed. It is dangerous. It is stupid.

But I am all of those things, yet God has kept me alive, so perhaps there is hope to be found somewhere.

As I pack the journals into my bag, and I pull my largest and sharpest knife from the kitchen, I feel the full weight of my mortality sit upon my chest.

I am mad for this.

But what is my life going to be otherwise? What did God keep me alive through so much for? I have to have faith.

I bear the knife in my hand, and wrap a rosary around my arm and wrist. My bible is held in my bag and I stand before the door to my death once again, praying for my father’s forgiveness if I mess this up.

As I carefully unlock the piece of wood separating me and the Devil, I go white-knuckled on my knife, and I feel bile begin to creep up. I am already out of breath due to panic, dissociating out of my mind, and trembling so forcefully that my teeth chatter. I bite my tongue until I taste blood, and I push open the door.

I am not sure how I want to do this, but planning now would only exhaust me further, and I need to think on my feet.

Grab the gun, shoot the demon, get inside.

I take a few, quiet, petrified steps into the hallway and look around the corner when I see-

Kassie?

Ellie’s youngest daughter is standing in the hallway, moving to help a young, dark-haired woman off the ground. From what I have heard, this is Ellie’s sister, Beth, whom I have heard referred to as ‘The Groupie’ from various neighbors.

Their attention turns to me, Beth looks shocked, eyes wide, as she moves to grab the shotgun from what I now sickeningly realize is the corpse of Mr. Fonda.

The smell, Christ. I have sworn off vomiting again, but my body desperately wants to overrun my mind at this moment. I fight bile and slowly approach them. Kassie puts a finger over her lips, assuring I know to stay quiet.

Where are Bridget and Danny? I already know, at least, I should already know. My twisted mind does not choose to process that in the moment, only focusing on the two people merely 20 feet from me.

It is my fear that allows me a keenness to sound -even over my heartbeat in my ears- and I hear the cracking of glass and bone behind me as I begin to pass Ellie’s apartment.

No.

Please, God, don’t let this happen to me now. Not when I’m this close.

I freeze, because I am a prey animal, no matter what anyone says, in this building, right now, I am prey, and as a prey animal, I have developed the intuition of knowing when I am being watched.

Its gaze is fixed on me, and I am all taut muscle and dilated pupils underneath it. I know it is behind me, and I know with every fiber of my being that I am going to die if I do not move.

But my body will not allow my muscles to relax enough to bend my limbs.

I am gripping the knife in my hand for dear life and my eyes are locked with Beth’s, who is, currently, my only hope in surviving this. The groupie raises the shotgun, and points it behind me. It is then that I decide to turn and look at-

There is a hand on my neck.

There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck. There is a hand on my neck.

It is cold and wet and awful and I set my jaw and every muscle in my throat tenses more than they already were. My teeth threaten to break each other under the force caused by my fear.

I attempt to drive the knife into the flesh behind me, when my arm is caught in the grasp of another hand. The grip is tighter than the sickeningly gentle hold on my neck, and its claws dig deep into the tendons of my wrist, making me scream out in pain, my eyes screwing shut as my hand involuntarily releases the knife.

There is a wet, breathy, crackling chuckle behind me, and the grip on my neck releases, and I open my tear-filled eyes, only to be thrown into the door across from Ellie's apartment.

It is on me swiftly after that. It grabs my wrist again and pins it against the door, like it’s body alone wasn’t doing that enough.

Its stare is predatory and piercing, nothing like Ellie’s once was. It is feral, and it's burning into me. Wide, consuming and unblinking as it stares down at me, I am drowning in it. Pupils like a pinpoint amongst a pale blue, scleras dark and bloodshot.

It leans down for an awful moment, a pit forms in my stomach and I want to vomit as it licks the blood dripping down my forearm from its claws.

I look over its shoulder at Beth, who Kassie is hiding behind and gripping for dear life.

“Please.” It is my voice that pleads, but I have never heard myself so breathless nor shrill.

“Pl…ease.” The demon's voice mocks me, eyes still burning into mine. It's voice hoarse and deep and repulsive, but the thing that makes me want to upchuck more than anything, is that I can still hear Ellie's voice underneath it. Sweet, funny, no-bullshit Ellie Bixler, consumed by the Devil.

Beth is looking at me now, fear in her wide eyes, as she aims the gun down sight for a moment, aiming directly at the demon.

Pull the trigger.

PULL THE GODDAMN TRIGGER.

This is my apex of disaster. This is all that my mind has been made to handle. I have hit the limit of my unluckiness and hit it so damn hard I might as well have heard a comedically timed ‘bang’ and seen stars dancing around my head.

Beth is unmoving, and my breath catches in my throat as I choke out a strangled sob when I see the woman mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before the shotgun it aimed at the door to apartment 82, and it is blasted open.

The demon before me jolts upright, but doesn't take its smothering gaze off of me, even when Beth grabs Kassie and runs through the door.

My fate is sealed as the door slams behind her, and all that is heard is the clanking of the security chain lock, as Beth well and truly escapes.

Then there is a deafening silence…

…A pattering of footsteps…

…Heavy, excited, wheezy, panting.

An excited panting that is coming from the creature before me.

This is where my faith in God has led me. Like my father, and his father, and the father before him. All of my life, and all of their lives, have led to this very moment. My death will be the fated coup de grâce of our cursed bloodline.

I am crucified to my place, paralyzed from the neck down as it looks upon me. I am fated to be consumed by this monster. This is my destiny.

#ellie bixler #ellie x reader #evil dead rise ellie #ellie evil dead #expect this to be gross in future chapters #this is my corruption kink fic and will be VERY graphic #do not expect ellie to be nice #i love deadites sm #and i want her to be as nasty as possible #evil dead rise #evil dead oc #yes greta is related to the priest who made the records #and her family is tormented bc of it

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