#BUT HI YES i like for those soft normal domestic kinda moments -CLENCHES FIST-

[nulltune]

old edits _(:3」∠)_ but i like imagining hakuno in different hairstyles HNGGHH 😩😩❤️💗💓💞 would she ever style her hair tho? sadly no </3 she thinks she's too plain for that + doesn't care about her appearance outside of just enough to look neat and presentable (we do see her hair in low twintails if she needs em tied up tho! tis a very cute look 🫶)

bUT LIKE- if someone wants to play with her hair or style her up then 👀 hakuno vc i don't mind. (<- girl who tends to go along with what others' want because she has no desires of her own tbh-) (METHINKS IT HAS DA POTENTIAL TO BE SO WHOLESOME THOOO and her hair's long and silky yknow ✨️ it'd b nice 2 touch ! 😌✨️) or alternatively- let hakuno do your muse's hair! ✨️ (she brushed nero's hair in last encore and it was such a soft moment it must've been so nice 🥺❤️)

[jut-and-dae-enthusiast]

You Feel Like //h.j.s

pairing: idol!jisung x fem!reader I genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers I Warnings: talk of anxiety, mention of sasaengs (kinda just wanted to be sure to put it here), use of pet names (baby, lovey), mc gets very drunk, im experiencing hanji brain rot and this is the product, y/n is written from the perspective of being plus sized but it's not a plot point bc it doesn't need to be :)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: hello everyone! Just a heads up in case it isn't explained well enough in the beginning here: the use of the name "Han" is in reference to like his stage name, while "Jisung" is in reference to him as just a normal human. Apologies if that gets confusing but I thought the idea was cool. :) Also the title comes from this song, as I feel like the song fits the vibe. titles are hard. thank you. i love u.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated :)

If you spent any amount of time with him, you would know there are two very distinct sides to Han Jisung. 

First, there was Han. This is where the performer side of him lived. The side that everyone knew. The cocky faces he makes when he dances, the way he raps like he could bring any person in the room to their knees in that moment. A loud voice, drawing the whole room’s attention to him with a laugh that almost immediately followed anything he said. Witty and funny, goofy and smiley. This is Han.

Then, there’s Jisung. This is where the domestic side of him lived. The side that only those closest to him had the honor of seeing. Quiet mornings, gentle humming as he writes lyrics on notebook paper or napkins or anything a pen could mark. A dark room with only soft fairy lights and a tv screen playing his favorite anime or kdrama. Cozy hoodies and soft smiles, content in the calmness. Wide eyes and puffy cheeks, still goofy but only because that’s who he is. This is Jisung. 

Your first encounter, of course, was with Han. It was a Friday night and you had gone to do karaoke with some friends to try and blow off steam. After hours of screaming your favorite songs, you were ready to go home. Your friends, however, were still going steady. So, you decided to step out for a moment. Stepping out of the room, you heard a group making their way down the opposite hall, the one in front loudly cracking jokes. You could see some dyed hair poking out from the bottom of his beanie, threatening to fall into his eyes. To your horror, you realized they had looped back around and were now coming directly towards you. Unsure of what to do, you turned and faced the wall, hoping they would just glide past you the way all groups of attractive men tended to. You saw the group move on and sighed with relief, turning back around. However, you were suddenly face to face with the loud one in the beanie. You blinked in surprise, expecting him to have been with his little gang. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, scanning your face carefully. His eyes were so big it seemed like they were drinking you in even though he wasn’t trying. He’s really pretty, you thought to yourself, back pressed gently to the wall. He gave you a look as if to ask you again and you nodded, clearing your throat gently. 

“Yes! Uh, just taking a little break. They’re hard to keep up with.” You point to the door and, as if they could sense it, your friend tried to hit a high note that sounded like a cry of pain. The stranger chuckled, looking down at his feet while nodding. 

“I just… I felt like you needed someone to check in with you. People don’t usually stand with their nose pressed to the wall.” He teased a bit, holding back a smirk. Your cheeks flushed pink, head turning to look down the hall in an effort to conceal it. 

“Well, thanks… for noticing.” You mutter, clenching your trembling fingers into a fist. 

“Han! What’re you doing?” A voice called from a room down the hall. 

“I’ll be just a sec!” He called back and sighed. “I didn’t catch your name. As you heard, I’m Han. Actually Han Jisung. My friends call me either of those. Or both. Or whatever.” He rambled and you could see the tips of his ears dusting pink. 

“I’m y/n.” You replied softly, a smile resting on your lips as you watched him, intrigued. 

“I hope we meet again, y/n.” He smiled wide and you nearly melted. Everything about him was radiant. He turned to walk down the hall and you felt him slipping from your fingers. You knew you would never meet him again. That this must have been some type of divine intervention, bringing you two together. 

“W-wait!” You called after him, causing him to turn and look at you curiously. You reached into your purse and frantically dug for a pen and some sort of paper. You pulled out an old receipt and scribbled your phone number on the back along with your name. “I don’t think fate will be kind enough to shove us together like this again.” You breathed as you handed the paper to him, face red. He looked down at your extended hand and a smile twitched on his lips. After thinking for a moment, he nodded and pocketed the paper gently, flashing you a smile. 

“I’ll text you, y/n.” He said softly before turning and disappearing into the room with his friends. You slowly made your way back to your own group, trying to catch your breath. Your friends were oblivious, telling you to sing this group song with them. You nodded and grabbed a tambourine, trying to not obsess over the question of whether Han had already texted you or not. 

It was late when you finally got home, phone securely in your hand. You even turned the ringer on, which you never did, so that you wouldn’t miss his message. However, no message came that night. Or in the morning. Or even over the next few days. You had become convinced that he’d just thrown the paper away when your phone pinged. 

Unknown Number: hey sorry it took a sec but this is han

y/n: oh hey! Its ok haha no worries 

Han: also thanks for giving me ur number. I was too scared to ask for it fr.

y/n: lol glad to know i wasnt the only one 

You grew fairly close with him from that moment, the two of you texting almost constantly. 

 

The first time you hung out with Han, he had invited you to hang out with him and his friends (which you found out meant his bandmates) at his apartment. When you found the apartment building, you tried to enter but the door was locked. Pulling out your phone, you called Han. 

“Hey! You aren’t lost, right?” Han greeted and you could perfectly imagine the smile on his face.

“No, I’m at your building. I just can’t get in.” You explained, looking up the side as if you could see him. 

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. We have to keep our building extra secure, especially after an incident we had a bit ago.” You could hear the way even thinking about it made him anxious, whatever it was. “I’m coming down to let you in, so give me like three minutes.” 

“Okay, I’m timing you.” You teased and could hear him breathe out a laugh. 

“I better hurry then, huh?” He laughed and you heard the elevator ding in the background. When he arrived at the door, he pushed it open and flashed you a wide smile. 

“Two minutes and forty seconds. Close call, Jisung.” You chuckled as you walked through the open door, falling in step beside him quietly. 

“I think the elevator deserves all of the credit for that.” He shrugs, pushing the call button and standing beside you with his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming, by the way.” He smiled softly, looking at you with happy eyes. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” You responded softly, taking note of the static feeling between the two of you. It was tugging, drawing you in with every breath. The sharp ding of the elevator arriving drew you back to reality, light from the empty elevator flooding into the dark lobby. Han gestures for you to go first, bowing politely. 

His apartment was near the top of the building, so the elevator ride was quiet. But, somehow, it wasn’t awkward. Silence with him felt comfortable, safe almost. He seemed to have realized at the same time, looking at you with a wondering expression. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but was cut off by the opening of the elevator doors. 

The apartment was definitely one men lived in, if you can believe that. You chuckled to yourself at the corner of the room dedicated to various at-home workout equipment. But it absolutely could have been worse. 

“Guys, this is my friend y/n. She was the one I met at karaoke a couple weeks ago.” Han introduced you to the group. The group all greeted you with soft smiles from where they were and invited you over to sit with them. You recognized some of their faces from the videos you had seen, but it was a little overwhelming trying to learn who was who. Felix eagerly scooted beside you and started talking with you, which you were grateful for. Han sat on the other side of you even though he was fully engaged in a conversation with Hyunjin. Han was the light in the room and everyone was drawn into it, laughing heartily at his jokes or hanging on his every word when he told a story. They teased him, of course, as friends do, and he would loudly defend himself and make everyone laugh again. 

You sat back quietly and observed, taking note of the dynamics that naturally lived in the group. Started to pick out the ones who subconsciously stuck together, who people directed their conversations towards most often. It was fascinating, so much so that you didn’t even notice Han looking towards you and asking you a question. He poked your knee gently, drawing your attention back on him. 

“You good?” He whispered, looking for any sign of anxiety or discomfort on your face. When you nodded happily, you saw his shoulders loosen. “I’m getting another drink, do you want anything?” His voice was soft, as if he didn’t want the others to be in this conversation. Not that any of them even cared or noticed, too wrapped up in eachother. 

“I’ll have whatever you get.” You smile a bit wider at the way he strongly considers what that choice should be. He stands and walks towards the kitchen, humming a tune you can’t quite place. 

“Y/n, what do you do for work?” Chan asked softly from across the small table, clearly wanting you to feel welcome even when Han isn’t in the room. 

“Oh, I’m a preschool teacher.” You nod, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you. 

“That’s so cute. Do you do lots of fingerpainting?” Felix asks from your other side. You chuckle and shake your head. 

“It’s way too messy and all of these kids wear clothes that are worth more than I make in two years.” They nod, the conversation coming to a lull. 

“Ooo, y/n tell them about the craft project you guys did last week.” Han sits beside you and sets a can of soda in front of you that’s identical to his. You dive into a story about popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners and trying to explain the term ‘structural integrity’ to four year olds. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Han watching you carefully. Hanging on your every word just like everyone does for him. Even though he’s heard it all before, he laughs and smiles and nods. Once the attention slides away from you and they disburse back into their own little conversations, you try to be part of one between Han and Jeongin but soon realize that Jeongin is talking with Chan. You trail off, awkwardly looking down at your hands. “Hey, keep going. I’m listening.” You hear Han encourage softly, bumping your arm gently with his drink. You look up at him and smile gratefully, launching back into the tale of the time you were chased by an angry lizard and Han is completely invested with wide eyes. 

The first time you hung out with Jisung was at your apartment, roughly a year after the two of you had met at the karaoke. 

“Ugh, it’s just been a shitty day and I need a drink.” You vented to Jisung on the phone while you folded laundry. 

“Should I bring over some beer and chicken? Maybe some soju?” You can hear his keys jingling in the background, clearly already getting ready to head your way. 

“No, it’s fine. You guys are so busy lately, I would hate to take your time. I’ll be fine, Ji.” The nickname was a recent development, but you both seemed to like it so it stuck. 

“Okay, so beer and soju. Got it. I’ll even be your knight in shining armor and get those chips you love for some reason.” You hear his door click shut behind him. “I’ll be over soon pookie wookie bear.” He says in a cute voice and you make a gagging sound. “Okay, okay! Sorry! I am actually on my way. Give me like 15 minutes, yeah?” 

Twenty minutes later, you heard your doorbell ringing over. And over. And over. You opened the door and glared. 

“If I could, I would yell your full government name at you right now.” You sigh, and let him in, cursing your neighbor who you found out was a Stay shortly after they moved in. Yeah, makes having any of the boys over very tricky. Great times. Jisung giggles because he knows the reason “You little shit.” You mutter, rolling your eyes. He sets down his convenience store bag on the coffee table and eyes your folded laundry while glancing over to see if you’re watching. “No! No, I just washed those. Get your own hoodies you gremlin.” You can’t help but laugh as he pouts, hands reaching out for his personal favorite of your hoodie collection. You swipe the pile and toss it onto your bed. 

“But your hoodies are so much comfier.” He whines and sighs, huffing into his spot on the floor. 

“Just buy your own hoodies in a bigger size.” You shake your head, plopping beside him on the floor and emptying the bags. 

“Yeah, but our hoodie is a special one I can’t buy myself.” 

“My hoodie that I bought at a concert just months ago?” You know which one he’s referring to. It’s a dark green hoodie you bought when you saw your favorite artist in concert recently. “I bet you could find it online.” You mutter, ignoring his pleading eyes and grab the remote to pick something to watch. You land on your comfort anime, Haikyuu and Jisung groans. 

“Look, I get that you had a rough day. But if I have to watch the Karasuno vs. Aoba Johsai match again, I might unalive myself.”

“Okay, what should we watch then?” You give up, handing him the remote. He scrolls through the options for a while, sighing periodically before shrugging. 

“Do you wanna just put on cafe vlogs and talk about it?” He asks softly, taking a sip of his beer. Your lip wobbled but you nodded, taking a deep breath and a big swig of your somaek than Han had made for you. He also made a mess on the floor, but in his defense he was just trying to make you feel better. Once Najing is making drinks on your TV, he turns his attention towards you and quietly waits. You look at him and anchor yourself to the stars you swear you see swirling in his eyes. 

“Okay, so-” a sob escapes from your mouth and the rest of your retelling of the day is a blubbering mess. A set of parents publicly humiliated you for something that was well out of your control and your boss was absolutely of no help, saying it must have been your fault. Jisung is sympathetic, handing you tissues and patting your arm gently. 

“y/n-ah, that was definitely not your fault. That shit is so out of pocket, you didn’t deserve that.” He grabbed your hand gently and both of you jumped back as if you were shocked by electricity. You clearly weren’t expecting that and he didn’t even realize he had done it. “UHHH OKAY HOW ABOUT KARAOKE.” Han came out to cover Jisung from the embarrassment and all you could do was laugh. 

“I am not in the mood for karaoke.” You gasp between wheezes, shaking your head. 

“Then you need more alcohol.” He filled your glass back to the top and handed it to you. You can’t tell if his cheeks are red from the beer or from what just happened but he was so damn cute you didn’t care.  

“No, I don’t want to hear you do terrible covers of your group's own songs. It’s very painful for me, a fan, to hear. And I’m sure my neighbor would break through the wall in an instant.” You take a sip of your drink, trying to catch your breath. He frowns and takes his spot next to you. It’s quiet between the two of you, but you don’t feel pressured to say anything. You weren’t sure how long had passed, the two of you just quietly watching drinks be made. “Thank you, Sungie. I feel better just having you here.” Your head turns to look at him and he’s eyeing you with a small smile. 

“You’ve never called me that in person before.” he comments softly, the stars swirling even more. Did you have too much to drink? Maybe. 

“Called you what? Sungie?” You giggle and lean towards him. Yeah, you’re definitely drunk. He huffs out a small laugh at whatever it is you’re doing and turns his face away. 

“I like it. You can keep calling me that if you want.” 

“Only when it’s just us though. That seems like a” you lean in closer and whisper “boyfriend nickname.” And you swear for a second that his cheeks instantly flush red, but he stands up and mutters something about going to the bathroom, pulling his hood over his head. While he’s gone, you crawl onto the couch and curl into a ball. You swear you only plan to close your eyes for a second, but are awoken by Jisung shaking you awake.

“Should I go home?” He asks softly, squatting down to be eye level with you. You pout and shake your head, making grabby hands for him. 

“Can’t you just cuddle with me all night?” This time you for sure see his cheeks flush pink. 

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” He asks sadly, gently pushing a strand of hair from your face. 

“Because I’ve secretly been attracted to you from the moment I saw you. But shhh, you can’t tell Jisung.” You slur, grabbing his hoodie and tugging him onto the couch. He holds back a laugh as you pull him into your arms, humming in content when you finally have him close. He’s still for a moment before coming to the quiet realization that your arms are the home he’s longed for all these years. His eyes scan the details of your face, tears threatening to fall at any moment. The two of you had hugged before, so why was it so different this time? Why was his heart pounding yet somehow he’s never felt more at peace. 

“We can’t go back from here.” He whispers to you with a serious gaze but you’re already asleep, snoring softly. He places a feather soft kiss on your nose and nuzzles into you happily. 

You woke up that morning to a text from Jisung, explaining that he had to run out for some work thing. You groaned, lifting your head from the couch and looking around the living room. It was surprisingly clean for Jisung having been over last night. You don’t remember much after the mention of karaoke, and even that’s a little fuzzy. You drag yourself to the kitchen to drink some water, swearing that you’ll never drink again. Is it a lie? Perhaps. But it feels sincere right now. You’re in the process of gulping down an entire bottle of water when new memories from the night before flood into your mind. Water sprays from your nose in shock, luckily you’re near the sink. 

“Oh my god, y/n you can never drink again. Holy shit why did I DO THAT?” You blindly reach for a paper towel to clean off your face, coughing slightly. As if sensing he was being thought about, you see Jisung calling you. You clear your throat and pick up, trying to seem like whatever that was didn’t just happen. “Hey, what’s up Ji?” 

“Hey! I was just checking on you, baby. You were still sleeping when I left.” Baby? Oh dear, what have you done? 

“Oh, uh thanks. Yeah, I’m just drinking some water.” And blowing it out your nose, no big deal. We love a talented queen. “Um, Ji, about last night-” 

“Sorry y/n-ah, I gotta go. I’ll come see you tonight, okay?” He cuts you off, ending the call just as abruptly as it had started. 

The day consisted of you pacing around your apartment, trying to figure out how to tell Jisung that you didn’t actually mean to confess your feelings. Not that you didn’t mean what you said but more that the timing was terrible. You had known him for over a year now but you were scared that this was too fast. He wasn’t even technically allowed to date, so all of this was wrong. So wrong. So, when Jisung arrived at your apartment later that day, you had been spiraling down this rabbit hole for hours. You were a mess and almost burst into tears at the sight of him. Of course he had flowers, why wouldn’t he have flowers? He was holding them so cutely too. 

“Sorry I’m kinda late, I wasn’t sure which bouquet at the flower shop was prettier.” His smile was so wide it almost hurt. You stepped to the side, letting him come in. 

“So, uh, Ji. I wanted to talk about last night.” You muttered nervously, picking at your nails with your eyes on the floor. 

“Oh, sure. Yeah, let's talk about it.” You could hear the worry in his voice as he sat on the couch, waiting for you to join him. You sat beside him and took a deep breath, unable to look at him. 

“I… I just wanted to apologize for what drunk y/n did. She, uh, clearly forgot her manners. She also forgot that you’re not allowed to date, so yeah. Not very cool.” You finally gained the strength to look up at him and he was holding back a laugh, trying his hardest to look serious. 

“Uh, so you’re saying that you don’t feel that way?” He asks, momentarily gaining his composure. 

“Well, no. But I know that-” 

“Then that’s all that matters. All the rest of it, we’ll figure it out.” He grabs your hand and sighs. “You’re just too cute, you know that?” He flashed you his wide smile that made your heart melt and all the anxiety skitter away from your mind. 

You thought that dating a celebrity would have been awkward or scary. But dating Jisung felt as easy as breathing. While, yes, you had to keep your relationship hidden from the world as well as his company, the two of you still managed to be attached at the hip. Until your schedules made it a bit more difficult, of course. But you could always count on Jisung to bombard you with tiktoks at any given point of the day. 

This last comeback, however, there wasn’t even time for that. You tried to text and call him when you could, but both of you were so busy that the calls were never longer than an hour and the messages were brief. Scrolling through Twitter, you saw Stay talking about how worried they were for Han, saying he seemed like he wasn’t feeling well. It was like a knife twisting in your heart to see him like that, to see that the Han front wasn’t even able to hold up. 

With some help from Chan, you booked a flight to come visit Jisung while he conveniently had the day off after lunch. You had arrived at his hotel room just before he had gotten back, waiting eagerly on the couch for him. Your heart jumped at the sound of the door opening and you stood, already craving him in your arms. You heard him sigh and kick his shoes off, padding into the room. His eyes were glued to his phone, headphones in. You chuckled to yourself as he obliviously went into the bedroom and you followed behind him. He crawled into bed and finally noticed you when he glanced up towards the end of the bed where you stood. His eyes widened and he sat up, jaw dropping in shock. 

“Baby? Is it really you?” You could see his eyes begin to water as he stood up and slowly made his way towards you. 

“Yeah, I’m here love.” You smiled as he quickly closed the space between the two of you and pulled you in close. His sniffles only made your heart break for him more, your arms tightening around his body to hold him closer. 

“I missed you so much. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s so hard right now.”He mumbled into your neck where he was nuzzled against you. “I’m trying so hard to be what I’m supposed to be, but I’m so tired and my head hurts all the time. I really don’t want to let them down, but I don’t know how to do better.” You can feel his tears wetting your shirt as he confides in you, tears streaming down your own cheeks.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” You sighed and gently pulled him away and held his face in your hands. “Look at me baby.” You whispered softly, wiping tears from his face with your thumbs. His wide eyes slowly slide to meet yours and the guilt that lives in them fills you with sadness and anger. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with having an off day, or even an off week for that matter. Maybe even an off month. You work a very demanding job and you do it flawlessly. So many people love you and look to you for strength, Han Jisung. But you’re allowed to not feel okay. To need some time alone, to recharge.” You kiss his forehead gently and you can feel him lean into your touch. “I know we’re both busy, but I’m seriously just a phone call away- always. I don’t care where I am, I’ll answer if you call.” You pull back and look at him and he gives you a small smile, nodding. 

“Thank you for coming.” His voice is soft, looking at you adoringly. He covers your face in kisses, a full smile finally growing on his beautiful face. 

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you.” You go out to the couch and grab the gift bag you had brought in and hand it to him with a smile. He furrows his brow and peaks into the bag before breaking out into a huge grin. “I figured I could loan our favorite hoodie to you until you come back.” You chuckle as you watch him frantically take off the one he was wearing and replace it with yours. He rushes over to you and hugs you tightly again. The two of you eventually end up on the bed, snuggled up to one another in comfortable silence. After what could have been hours, Jisung kisses your forehead and keeps his lips there while he mumbles the phrase that makes your heart soar every single time you hear it. 

“I love you so much, y/n.” 

[invisibletinkerer]

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 5)

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6

Length: ~5000 words

AO3 Link.

The hunger signals that hadn’t quite reached Ford’s brain earlier was doing so with a vengeance by the time he came down to the kitchen. Stanley apparently made pancakes by their mother’s recipe, with a liberal sprinkling of cinnamon, and the smell alone made Stanford stop in the doorway and indulge in the luxurious illusion of – comfort? Perhaps even safety.

His brother was already seated by the table together with the grand niece and nephew, and the children were eating – he noted that the girl had her pancakes with an alarming amount of fruit sauce, whipped cream and glittery sprinkles. For some reason the young twins greeted him with a cheerful good morning, as if they were happy to see him. He couldn’t imagine why – he was a stranger to them, and he could hardly have made a good impression last night, so there was no reason for them to be excited.

Stanley insisted on seeing to Ford’s wrist first of all. Ford expected it to be quite unnecessary – the injury wasn’t likely to kill him anyway – but he had to admit that it stung less after being cleaned and wrapped in soft gauze. It also stopped the hem of his sleeve from rubbing painfully against the wound, even though it limited his movements somewhat.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Stanley shrugged and handed him an oral thermometer. “How do you feel?”

Ford considered the question for a moment. “Not ideal,” he admitted, although that much must be obvious to anyone. “But better, overall.” He put the tip of the thermometer under his tongue and waited for the reading.

Stanley patted his left shoulder, and Ford suppressed a wince. “You still need more sleep and some food in ya. What does the gizmo say?”

“No fever,” Ford said after checking, finding it to be almost exactly what he’d expected, then handed the thermometer back to Stanley. “I didn’t think there would be.”

Stanley took a look at the reading and frowned. “Huh,” he said. “Isn’t this kinda low?”

“Yes. That means there’s no fever.” Of course, it was low, but probably not dangerously so. “Actually,” Ford added, glancing at the pancakes, “I’m hungry.”

Stanley looked happier at that. “Glad to hear it! Go ahead and eat.”

The pancakes tasted just as delicious as they smelled, if not better. The fact that his body was starting to remember hunger for the first time in weeks might have something to do with it, but the fact remained that he hadn’t had homemade pancakes in many years. It brought back memories of a different time, when life had been simpler and the weight of the world hadn’t been piled on his shoulders one mistake at a time. He would have liked to eat a stack of them, but sadly he could barely finish one before a wave of nausea caught up to him and he had to put his fork down.

Stanley looked up from his own pancakes. “Did it taste okay?”

Ford nodded. “They’re like mom’s.”

Stanley grinned. “Success!”

It occurred to Ford that after thirty years, their parents might not even be alive anymore. He was not thinking about that. If he couldn’t eat more, he should be thinking about the rift. The alien adhesive was still the best idea he had for neutralizing it, but he had to admit it was an unpredictable substance. He’d never been able to discover exactly what uses the aliens had had for it, though sealing rifts in reality was probably not it. It most likely wouldn’t be a permanent solution even if it worked.

Ford appreciated that neither of the children had asked explicitly about the wound on his wrist – perhaps it was obvious even to a child – but now he suddenly noticed Mabel looking thoughtfully at the bandage.

“Can I draw on it?” she asked, already holding several colored markers.

“Just leave out the glitter, sweetie,” Stanley told her immediately, as if permission was a foregone conclusion.

“Don’t!” Ford said, scowling at the girl and pulling his arm away from her. “That’s completely unnecessary!”

She made puppy-dog eyes at him. “Please, uncle Ford!” Was that a normal thing children did?

“No,” he repeated, softer. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I just wanted to cheer you up. You say you feel better, but you still look sad!”

“I’m not sad. And I doubt a doodle is going to fix anything that is wrong with me.” He’d prefer not to find any more markings on his own body this morning.

Mabel huffed and looked at him like he was an especially challenging puzzle, but Stanley interrupted before she said anything else.

“Alright, still having breakfast here,” he said, handing Ford a cup of black tea that he hadn’t asked for but wasn’t about to turn down. “We’re brainstorming Ford’s problems later.”

“Alright,” Mabel grumbled, getting back to stuffing over-accessorized pancake in her mouth.

Ford took a sip of tea, wondering whether it would be better to walk out of this domesticity now and force himself to get something done or whether it’d be worth it to stay and pretend he belonged here for another few minutes. The tea was good, but he really would have preferred coffee.

“Great uncle Stanford?” Dipper said. “Could we talk about the journals now? Just a little bit? If you want to! There’s so many creatures out there that I’ve met this summer that you wrote about and I’ve got so many questions about stuff and maybe we could compare notes and—”

“Dipper,” Ford interrupted him.

“Yes!”

This was the child who had been writing in Ford’s journal, been possessed by Bill, and kept a memory gun. Perhaps Ford really did want to talk to him. He leaned forward across the table, ignoring the way the fresh cuts on his body protested the movement. “Stanley mentioned that were the one who found my third journal.”

“Yes! I did! Right at the beginning of summer, it was in this—”

“I know where it was. I put it there.”

“Ah, yes! Of course you did. But it was a good hiding place! Grunkle Stan said he never found it in thirty years, and it was really mostly a coincidence that I did, so—” He stopped, pursing his mouth.

That wasn’t where Ford had been going with this, but the conclusion of that thought was obvious. He sighed. “So if you hadn’t found it you wouldn’t have a universe destroying rift in the house, no.” He’d wanted those journals to be hidden away for a reason.

Stanley opened his mouth to protest, but Mabel was faster. “He meant that if he hadn’t found it you would still be stuck behind the portal, silly!”

Ford felt his shoulders tense. He knew that perfectly well, but so much had happened that he’d almost lost perspective. “That would have been preferable,” he said tersely.

It would have been unbearable, too. Just thinking it made his fists clench involuntarily on the table. But if Stanley had left him and forgotten about the portal there would be no rift and Ford’s foolishness would no longer endanger anyone, and that would have been better.

“Nu-huh,” Mabel said, childishly shaking her head. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

“Thank you, Mabel,” Stanley said. “And you shut up, Poindexter.”

Ford bristled. He knew he was right. “You want me to shut up? You put the world in danger by opening the portal!”

“I didn’t make that portal!”

“You didn’t have to aggravate my mistake! You knew it was dangerous!”

“Hey!” Mabel shouted, waving her arms around. “Hey! No shouting at breakfast!”

In the momentary silence that followed, Dipper raised an arm and spoke up. “I actually have a question,” he said. “Great uncle Stanford – what is on the other side of the portal?”

“That’s a good question,” Stanley added, crossing his arms. “Can people live there at all?”

Stanford looked down at his empty plate. “No – I don’t think so. Bill called it a ‘nightmare realm’, and that’s an apt name.”

“Great.” Stanley said, an edge in his voice now. “So you’re saying it would have been preferable if I killed you.”

“No!” Ford looked up again. “I didn’t say that! I just—” He’d certainly implied that, but no, he didn’t want to turn Stanley into a murderer. Worse. Ford might not even have died in the nightmare realm. And in either case, Stanley would never have known.

It occurred to him to wonder what he himself would have done if he’d accidentally pushed Stanley into the portal instead. He couldn’t be sure. Stopping Bill was the priority. Could he really have risked the world to fix a smaller mistake? Could he have lived with himself if he hadn’t? He didn’t know, and the thought was unbearable in a different way than imagining himself lost in the nightmare realm.

“It’s fine,” he said eventually, leaning back in his chair and silently wincing as the cuts stretched again. “You saved my life, Stanley,” he added quietly. He hated the weakness that made him feel grateful for it.

Stanley huffed.

“That’s enough!” Mabel said. “Uncle Ford, give grunkle Stan a hug!”

Ford and Stanley glanced at each other, then at Mabel, but neither moved.

“Great uncle Stanford, you know what?” Dipper spoke up. “Yesterday, before everything happened, I got really mad at grunkle Stan. I mean, furious. Because I had read all the warnings about the danger, but I didn’t know about you at all, and we’d just found out that grunkle Stan had lied to us about his name all this time, too.” He glanced at Stanley. “He said he was doing everything for this family, but I didn’t believe him, so I tried to shut the portal down before it opened completely. But Mabel—” he nodded at his sister, “—was the one who was close enough to push the button, and she trusted him, so she didn’t push it. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, and that rift wouldn’t either.”

Mabel nodded, and Stanley a ruffled her hair a bit.

“And the thing is,“ Dipper continued, “I was wrong! And she was right! I realized that as soon as I saw you coming out of the portal and grunkle Stan called you his brother. Because yeah, it was risky and there’s all this danger – but you’re family. That’s worth the risk.” He bit his lip self-consciously, glanced at his sister again, and added, “I know I would have done the same thing if something happened to Mabel.”

Stanford shook his head slowly, trying to file away the boy’s words. He still didn’t know what to think about Dipper or Mabel, but memories of another pair of twins that would have said similar things without hesitation at that age came to mind. It hurt to think that Stanley would still be able to think like that after everything that happened between them and another thirty years besides.

Thirty years. He shuddered, eyes stinging. What a stubborn, knucklehead brother.

“That’s naïve,” he said eventually, but without much conviction.

Stanley sighed. “You’re definitely feeling better,” he said, “because now you’re just being stubborn for the sake of it.”

“Unlike you?” The opportunity to quip was welcome.

“Pfft. You wish.” Stanley rose and started removing the dishes and the remaining pancakes from the table. “I get it, Ford,” he said from the kitchen counter. “You’re worried about Bill.”

“Bill is a jerk and we’re not standing for it!” Mabel declared and slammed her fist on the table. She could have been talking about a schoolyard bully. Dipper nodded confidently, but he was rubbing the marks on his arm again.

Stanley returned to the table and slumped back into his chair. He turned to face Stanford. “So. How do we get him out of your head?”

“I—what?”

“How do we get Bill out of your head?” Stanley repeated. “I told you. That’s gonna be our priority one, here. Let’s brainstorm.”

Stanford folded twelve fingers around his teacup. There was no way around it. “You can’t,” he said. “It’s impossible. He made sure of that when we made the deal.”

“Really? What were the terms?”

Ford looked out the window. “’From now until the end of time’.”

“Hm.” Stanley frowned. “Not a lot of leeway there, huh. Well, as long as we’re brainstorming—” He looked at Mabel, who was unfolding a large piece of blank paper. “Put down ‘stop time’ as an option.”

“Yep!” She did so, with a glittery pink marker.

“Stanley!” Ford rose to his feet and raised his arms, appalled. “What are you trying to do here? This is serious! We need to neutralize the rift, not waste time playing games with impossibilities! Bill is going to stay in my head and the more time passes, the less I’m going to be able to—”

“I’m dead serious,” Stanley said, talking over him. “We’re gonna fix you before we fix the rift – now sit down.”

Ford sat down, despite better judgement. “If ‘stop time’ is an answer,” he muttered, “You might as well put down ‘punch Bill into oblivion’ while you’re at it. Isn’t that your favored solution?”

“Good idea,” Stanley said, and Mabel wrote ‘punch Bill’ on her list. It was ridiculous. “Any other suggestions?”

“If Bill is in his head,” Dipper said, “maybe we can go into his mindscape and force him to leave? It worked once. More or less.”

“He’s not actually present there all the time,” Ford said with some exasperation, “And even if you did find him and somehow made him leave, nothing would stop him from coming back.” He didn’t enjoy the thought of opening himself up to more people rummaging through his thoughts and memories, either.

“We’re brainstorming, Sixer,” Stanley said. “Don’t explain why it won’t work just yet.”

Right then, a voice came from the living room. “Mr Pines, are you still—Oh.” Soos appeared in the kitchen doorway and looked around. “Hi, younger Mr Pines. How you doing, dood?”

“I—um.” Ford hesitated. “Better.”

Soos gave him a thumbs up before turning to Stanley. “Mr Pines, I’ve finished checking around, and there’s a bunch of minor stuff I could fix right now, but I think we’re gonna have to order some cement and stuff for the foundation. It’s like, the entire Shack actually floated in the air there for a bit, you know, so there’s a bunch of huge cracks.” The gravity anomalies. They must have been intense, indeed.

Stanley grunted. “Yeah, I’ll handle that later. Hey, Soos, why don’t you join us for a bit?”

“Nah, I already had breakfast.”

“No, for brainstorming. We’re trying to come up with ways to get Bill out of my brother’s head. Any ideas?”

“Hmm.” Soos put a hand over his chin in thought. “Think we could go into the mindscape and make him go away?”

“Yeah, Dipper already suggested that.”

Soos frowned deeper. “Hmmmm. Oh, I know! If Bill made a deal to be in your head, couldn’t someone, like, trick him into some kinda reverse deal? I bet Mr Pines could do that.”

Stanley grinned. “I like that one. Write it down, sweetie.”

“But—” Stanford stopped, not sure if he was frustrated or just confused. That was nonsense. Bill would know. How could you trick a trickster?

“Cool,” Soos said. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“So what do you think, Sixer?” Stanley asked, leaning towards Ford as Soos left.

Ford made a defeated gesture. “What do you expect me to say?”

“You can’t tell us you haven’t been thinking about it. Problem is, you’ve been trying to handle things alone without sleeping or eating, and he’s poking at your mind, so of course it feels hopeless. But right now we’re brainstorming together, so go ahead and tell us what kinda crazy ideas you have. Even if they won’t work.”

“You want me to tell you about the things I’ve considered. That won’t work.”

“Yeah. What’ve you got?”

Ford closed his eyes, but opened them again quickly as he felt more than heard a tinny laughter in the back of his mind. “Well,” he said with a sigh. Of course he’d been contemplating it, especially at first. Ways of breaking his connection to Bill, at least temporarily. Bill had mocked him for it more than once, and he was well aware that their deal was forever, but he had considered it.

“There’s a machine down on the second basement level,” he told them. “Fiddleford and I built it to read and register people’s thoughts, and it works well for that purpose. In theory, it could be modified to not just read the mind but affect the brainwaves in such a way to put a filter over it. It would be analogous to using a simple ceasar cipher – move the letters of the alphabet a few steps to the side, and plain text looks like gibberish. Such an encrypted mind would be incomprehensible to outside forces.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, there’s no way that I know of to do that without utterly destroying the mind at the same time.”

Dipper winced, but Stanley looked thoughtful. “Anything else?” he asked.

“A physical barrier made of cold steel placed in direct contact with the brain might do it, but the likelihood of surviving such a surgical procedure is very low.” He swallowed the last of his tea. There had been a point when he’d seriously considered cutting his own skull open to attempt this. Bill had discouraged it by giving him a minor concussion and told him he’d looked forward to piloting his corpse.

Stanley grimaced at that, but then he raised a finger. “Wait a second. What about the barrier spell?”

“The what?”

“It’s in your journal number one,” Stanley said. “I’ve read that one a few times by now, and there’s one place where you describe some kind of magic spell that’s supposed to ward off incorporeal weirdness or whatever from a building. Wouldn’t that work against Bill?”

“Oh.” Ford scratched the side of his head. “That one.” He knew what Stanley meant, but it was hardly useful. “I don’t even know if it’s real. I never had the opportunity to try it out when I discovered the formula, and the theories behind such mysticism are still a bit... opaque. One of the components is impossible to acquire.”

“You’re talking about the unicorn hair?” Stanley asked. He’d definitely done his reading.

“Yes. Unicorn hair.” He had attempted to deal with the unicorn of this forest years ago, long before he met Bill and started to unleash evil upon the world, and even then he hadn’t been pure enough to be worthy of its hair. By the time he would have needed a barrier, he hadn’t even considered trying.

Mabel gasped, eyes widening. “Unicorns!? There’s unicorns in Gravity Falls? Please please grunkle Stan can I go see them? I love unicorns! I’ve always loved unicorns, they’re amazing and beautiful!”

That was not how Stanford would describe unicorns, but Mabel’s reaction made his mind spin with sudden implications, his jaw falling open. He wasn’t worthy of a unicorn’s protection, but – a child? A little girl? It wasn’t impossible. It felt like a door that had been locked and barred was suddenly standing ajar. If that spell worked – if he could keep Bill away, if only inside the building – it was enormous.

“Do you mean—” He had to clear his throat. “Do you mean you would be willing to go out there and ask the unicorn for its hair? For this purpose?” He didn’t say ‘for my sake’, but it was the same thing. She had no reason whatsoever to do anything for him, except that she was Stanley’s family. His family.

“Yes!” she said without hesitation, raising her arms. “I’ll go get unicorn hair for you, uncle Ford! I won’t let you down!” She looked around at the others. “No arguments, right? I’m definitely the most pure hearted person in this room!”

“Can’t argue with that,” Dipper said with a shrug.

“Sure,” Stanley agreed. “Although for the record, that ‘pure of heart’ business smells kinda fake to me – it can be interpreted in far too many different ways.”

Mabel pursed her lips. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just telling you to be careful, Mabel. I don’t know anything about unicorns, but if it tries to mess with ya, don’t let it.”

Mabel smiled. “Okay. But I’m sure it won’t!”

“That’s my girl.” Stanley patted her on the shoulder. “See, Sixer?” he said to Ford. “We’re getting somewhere.”

A part of Ford was certain this wouldn’t work. Mabel would fail, or Bill would stop her, or the spell would turn out to be useless after all. But that was no reason not to try. He tapped six fingers on the table, making a decision. “You should borrow my first journal,” he told Mabel before he had time to regret it. “It will tell you how to get to the unicorn’s glade and what to expect in that area. Just – just don’t lose it anywhere.” It mustn’t fall into the wrong hands, but Mabel... wasn’t that. She was family, and Stanley most certainly trusted her. If she could do this—

He’d insist to come with her, but no, she’d have better chances without him.

“Thanks!” she said. “It’s still in the basement, right?”

Ford nodded.

“I’ll pick it up before leaving. See you later!” Mabel said with a smile and waved at them. As she took off towards the gift shop, Ford heard her shout into a – tiny walkie-talkie? – “Candy! Grenda! Wendy! Clear the day! We’ve got a mission!”

Ford flinched. He hadn’t expected her to be taking friends along, even though he should have. That was three more names that he didn’t know – people who was not family and there was absolutely nothing guaranteeing that none of them had dealt with Bill.

“Mabel, wait!” he called and hurried after her, awkwardly colliding with the doorframe when the dizziness returned as soon as he moved. He failed to suppress a groan of pain when the impact jolted the cuts on his chest.

“Uncle Ford?” Mabel said, turning back to him. “Are you okay?” She mumbled something to the small device in her hand, then put it away.

“No. Yes. I’m okay.” Ford shook his head to clear it, keeping balance with one hand on the wall. “It’s just that – your friends.” He couldn’t stop her from bringing them. The forest would be safer with company. “Who are they?”

She tilted her head at him. “I just told them to come here, so you can meet them if you like!”

“Yes, good. I’ll do that.” At the very least he’d be able to confirm that Bill wasn’t possessing them.

Mabel walked over to the vending machine and pressed the code. “Candy is smart and funny and Korean,” she explained, “and Grenda is super strong and has a lizard, and I met them both on a party that grunkle Stan threw earlier this summer. And Wendy’s this teenager who works right here at the Mystery Shack. Except it’s closed right now after those gravity hiccups last night, so she’s off duty.”

“You okay there, Sixer?” Stanley asked behind them, making Ford jump.

“Yes, of course.”

“Going downstairs?”

“Yep, to get the journal,” Mabel replied in his stead. To Ford’s surprise, she grabbed his hand and voluntarily pulled him along down the stairs to the elevator. Stanley followed. It was obvious that his brother didn’t trust Ford to be alone with the grand niece, but that much was fair.

Mabel’s hand was small and warm, and after getting into the elevator, she smiled and squeezed his fingers. “Wow,” she said. “Six fingered hand-holding. That’s a whole finger cozier than normal!”

Ford blinked at her. “You’re weird.” It was a conclusion he might have drawn when she first started spouting silliness, but he felt more confident about it now. She was weird, not derisive. He squeezed her hand back. “I like that.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks! I make it work!”

The first and second journals were still on the work desk where they’d been left. Ford flipped through the first one to the page detailing the formula for the barrier spell first, refreshing his memory on the other components. Then he showed Mabel where to find the information on the enchanted glade and the unicorn itself. “Just don’t lose it,” he reminded her as he handed over the book.

Mabel assured him she wouldn’t.

 A few minutes later they were all waiting by the main entrance to the house for Mabel’s friends to arrive. The veranda didn’t look much like Ford remembered it, and not just because it was summer. He could see how it must have been repaired – even rebuilt – time and again over the years, and even at present one of the support beams for the roof was damaged, apparently by the gravity flux last night. There was a couch right beside the door – old and well-worn, but unfamiliar to Ford – that Stanley immediately lounged in, joined by Dipper. Ford tried it, but while it was lumpy and threadbare and somewhat smelly, it was still soft and comfortable enough to make his eyes start drooping. He got back up and started pacing instead, acclimatizing himself to the feeling of cuts stretching on his chest.

While he was at it, he walked a circuit around the house to get a look at it. The greatest change was the huge sign on the roof that named it the ‘Mystery Shack’ – or possibly the ‘Mystery Hack’, since the ‘S’ had fallen over. Knowing Stanley, it could be a deliberate pun. There were plenty of smaller signs as well, making vague promises of ‘amazement’ and ‘wonder’. The veranda outside what was now the gift shop looked completely unfamiliar. The backyard had turned into a parking lot.

It was all... uncomfortable. But no more than he’d started to expect. Thirty years.

The redhaired teenager arrived first, waving at Stanley and the children from a distance. Noticing Ford, she grinned and walked straight up to him. “Hi there!” she said. “You must be Stan’s brother from thirty years ago or whatever Soos was babbling about last night.” She held out a hand for him to shake. “Wendy Corduroy.”

Hiding his hands behind his back was a reflex. He looked from her hand to her eyes – white and green, no hint of demonic influence. Her pupils constricted normally in the sunlight, too. “Yes,” he said, without taking her hand. “I’m Stanford Pines.”

She laughed, pulling her hand away. “Crazy,” she said. “You really do look like a young Stan.”

“I should. We’re twins.”

“Uh-huh.” She had a very cheerful smile. “I’m digging the sweater vest, by the way.”

“Um.” Ford flustered. “Thanks?”

She ignored that, turning over to Mabel to ask about the ‘mission’. Ford had to be satisfied with that. She wasn’t possessed. It was fine.

The other two girls arrived soon enough on bicycles, both of them rolling up to Mabel and engaged in a squeeing three-way bearhug before exchanging a single word. Once they were done, Mabel was the one to introduce them to Ford.

“This is Candy!” Mabel gestured at a petite girl of East Asian heritage.

“Nice to meet you,” Candy said.

“And this is Grenda!” A much bulkier girl with reddish hair and the word ‘cool’ printed on her t-shirt.

“Hi!” Her voice was incongruous to the point that Ford found himself wanting to like her despite himself. He knew what it was like being an anomalous child. The thought was irrelevant, so he pushed it away.

“And this is uncle Ford!” Mabel told her friends. “He’s grunkle Stan’s brother and he sort of got timetrapped in a portal for thirty years, but grunkle Stan got him back last night!”

“Whoa,” Grenda said, staring at him with wide eyes.

“That is amazing!” Candy said. “You must tell us everything about Gravity Falls in 1982.”

Ford didn’t reply, but silently crouched down to the children’s level and looked them in the eyes. Normal, both of them. He breathed a sigh of relief before getting back up. “Thanks, Mabel.”

Going back and leaning against the wall next to Stanley’s couch, he watched Mabel tell the other girls about the unicorn hair and showing them the directions in the journal. They were off not much later.

“They’ll get your magic hair,” Stanley said confidently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If anyone can deal with unicorns, it’s Mabel,” Dipper agreed.

“I hope so.” Stanford should know better than to have hope.

“So what else did you need for that barrier?” Stanley looked up at him. “Mercury?”

“Yes, about three ounces of it. And seven moonstones. I have those things in—” He stopped, leaning his head back against the wall. He didn’t have anything. “—I had those things in the laboratory on the ground floor. Do you still have them?”

“I guess we’ll have to find out.”