#also; it seems like no matter the universe; flinch always manages to get fucked over by unicron

[soundcrusher]

Talking with Tachy about how eating Dark Energon could affect a Cybertronian in TFP sure enough was fun! And it lead to many more ideas that involved Flinch witnessing the destruction of his home world, being forced to ingest Dark Energon, because a group of Decepticon scientists were tasked to find out how much harm it could do, getting adopted by two Minicoms, escaping to earth, befriending Breakdown, and befriending a group of six Vehicons that decided to ditch the war and just live on earth. (Said Vehicons also end up kidnapping Ratchet at one point, becaude he's a medic and Flinch needs medical attention.)

All the while Eda helps him with his painful recovery.

So, a fun time over all.

Also! Some sketches of TFP Flinch, @tachyon-omlette's TFP Eda, and Flinch's Vehicon friends.

[maximov-widow]

i don’t know if anyone requested this but i can’t find a fanfiction where it’s the aftermath of what happened to natasha and wanda being happy her girlfriend is back, but sad that she and the reader lost their other girlfriend. i hope that made sense… an angsty wandanat basically lol.

I will be more than happy to do the aftermath of Natasha death and their way of processing. You also didn't specify whether it should be sad ending or happy so I gave a happy ending?

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

I'm sorry...

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Warning: Language, some fluff and a lot of angst.  enjoy :3

Summary: Y/n is finally happy with her 2 girlfriends; Natasha and Wanda but it seems as if the universe has different plans for Y/n.

Word count: 3.7k

⸻⸻⋙☸🗲⋘⸻⸻

Present

"How is that my fault?" You asked, taking a few steps away from Wanda.

She stared at you with anger "It's all your fault Y/n.. and you know it"

You didn't recognise the woman in front of you, the woman who you loved with every piece of you, the pain in your heart was worse than any injury you ever had experience and that says a lot..

6 years ago

Everything seems to be in place, you are cuddled into Natasha whilst Wanda is cuddled into you, you would've never thought that these two women would be even partly interested in you but you was wrong and now you are more than happy to be here with them.

It hasn't been long since the three of you have gotten together but it has been enough time to get really attached. It didn't take long for the three of you to sleep in one bed, to be fair it started right after you made it official. You didn't mind at all, you felt safe and that's all you really wanted.

You was trained by Natasha every morning which you hated as you always wanted to sleep in but at the same time you loved it... because like who doesn't want to be pinned down by the Black Widow?

Then eventually Wanda would join, you would be one step ahead of her and nearly being able to beat her when Natasha joined and again you ended up being on the floor with now two of them pinning you.

You definitely didn't mind, especially since they would shower you with kisses, they would tease you at how they still ended up beating you, you would roll your eyes but still enjoy these little moments, it made your mornings a lot more better.

A thought struck you as your innocent smile turned into a smirk, currently it was team movie night, the three of you under one blanket, your hand that was resting on Natasha's chest, slowly slid down her stomach, causing her breath to hitch. The movie was boring and you wanted to mess with Natasha like she always messes with you and Wanda.

You faced Wanda and she saw your smirk, she already knew what you were doing as she read your mind and just smirked back, she put her hand under the blanket and used her powers to restrain Natasha from making sudden moves.

You turned to face Natasha again, your hand going underneath her shirt, she tried to move but she noticed the restrains and her face turned towards Wanda so quickly no one would even notice it was a movement, she gave Wanda a glare as she narrowed her eyes which just caused Wanda to smirk again.

Your gaze was on Natasha this whole time to watch her reaction, your hand lingered around her breasts but then progressively it moved down and closer towards her legs.

"What are you doing?" She whispered just enough so you and Wanda could hear.

"I want to go to our room" You ignored her question and looked into her eyes, you could see some sense of lust slowly consuming them.

She let out a shaky breath when your hand stopped so close where she wanted you to be "Wanda let me go" It was a demand which only fuel the two of you.

"Are we going to leave? Or you want us to fuck you right here next to them" That's all Natasha needed to hear, Wanda knew how to push Natasha's buttons.

"I think I'm going to head to bed" Natasha spoke a little to loudly, which attracted everyone's attention.

You smirked but innocently said "Oh really? Well we will join you then"

Just like that, Wanda let go of Natasha and you moved your hand, getting up together whilst Natasha almost jumped up and rushed out of the room.

You looked over at Wanda and then back at speeding off Nat "What's the rush babe? We were thinking about a snack before bed"

Nat stopped and turned around to face you as she walked over and grabbed your hand and Wanda's "No you're not"

She looked at the team "Goodnight!" and rushed away from them whilst you and Wanda laughed.

5 years ago

"Okay, here is the plan, we need to prevent Thanos from snapping his fingers, and take that stupid gauntlet" Tony instructed and everyone agreed.

Just before you was about to shoot off to help evacuate people, Wanda with Nat pulled you into a hug "Be safe Моя любовь (My love)"

You pulled away and looked at them with a soft expression "Of course, you two as well, Wands please protect Vision and Nat be by Wanda's side, I will be back as soon as I can"

They nodded and you gave them a kiss as they let you go, you ran towards the people who didn't know what to do, and they ran towards their place.

------

You ran towards Natasha, she was on the floor, she wasn't injured but she was on the floor, she looked at you with some relief in her eyes "Go find Wanda"

You nodded but before you ran, you quickly gave her a peck on the lips and ran to find her, as you saw her, on the floor by Vision you knew this is bad. You dropped on your knees and stared at her as she muttered "I failed"

You cupped her face "Wands baby, you didn't fail, its okay"

You pulled her into a hug and that's when you saw, some of your team turn into dust, you pulled away and looked at Wanda, that's when she slowly started to dust away.

You could feel your heart crack at the sight of relief in the witches eyes "NATASHA!"

You screamed to get the redheads attention, which did work, she ran in and at the sight of Wanda disappearing, she dropped to her knees as tears were threatening to spill.

"Wanda.. Please don't leave us.." You begged as if she could just stop dusting, and just like she was gone and you let out a heart wrecking sob, Natasha crawled towards you and pulled you into her.

3 months before

Everything has changed since the blip, the way Natasha would constantly just throw herself into work to somehow find a way to bring back half of the population and Wanda.

You tried your best to help her but it was exhausting, each time she would push you away and that only hurt you more, at the start there was hugging till you couldn't breath because she was afraid that you would disappear as well.

But that changed when something in her switched, you have been trying to find a solution for 5 years even if that was on the floor of your shared room, alone because Natasha has pushed you away so far, you didn't even know if there was a way back to her.

She walked inside the room and barely even looked at you, she just gathered her stuff which made you question her "What are you doing Natasha?"

She didn't answer, making you jump up from where you were and block the way out which forced her to say something "Move out of my way Y/n"

You nearly melted on the spot from hearing her voice again but you had to put a brave face up "Not until you tell me what you are doing?"

She sighed as she didn't let up "I said move"

"I'm not going to repeat myself again, you can do this the easy way or I will force you to move" She spoke with so much anger in her tone.

"Where are you going Natasha?" You asked again but this one you had a soft expression which you knew worked on Natasha.

"I'm not staying here, now move out of my way" She simply answered as if that was a normal thing to do.

She had dark bags under her eyes, from what you can assume was no sleep "So you're leaving me?"

She rolled her eyes "The world doesn't revolve around you Y/n. I need to find a solution to bring back these people, that's what we promised to do, we promised to protect them and we failed so now move"

And just like she pushed you and started to walk towards the door "You also promised to be by our side Natasha but I guess that doesn't matter to you anymore"

She stopped in her tracks as she turned to face you once more "You knew that promise was never going to work with this job, it wasn't real"

Tears streaming down your face as you looked away from her "It was real to me and definitely to Wanda. Shame you don't think that"

"You don't know what she would've said, because she isn't here!" She snapped causing you to flinch a little, she never raised her voice at you.

Her grip on the things she was holding tighten as she saw you flinch "Just don't get in my way again or you'll regret it"

Your eyes snapped to her face "Fuck you for treating me like shit. Fuck you for doing this to us. Fuck you for threatening me, just get out of this room!" You couldn't keep all these emotions inside you, you spent the last 5 years supporting her and that's what you get in return.

She rolled her eyes and walked out, not even trying to argue with you or pull you into her embrace and apologise for acting like a jerk, she just left, leaving you to cry.

1 month before

A broken heart isn't easy to deal with, but you thought you managed just well yet to the remaining team thought differently. You would mainly throw yourself into training, doing everything to keep your mind of the whole argument, it did work but not for long.

Natasha avoided you as well, that was until the opportunity for the solution finally knocked on the door, you all were somewhat relief at the thought of everyone being back.

You walked in as Tony with some guy explained how its possible to bring everyone back, turns out its the ant man who was stuck in the Quantum Realm and he explained how it's possible to time travel. You was a little concerned but you was pulled out of it as Natasha stood next to you, you swallowed down the bubbling tears as your senses were invaded by Natasha so you naturally just moved away.

It did cause some stares to be thrown your way but you didn't care, you knew if you stood there, you would break down and it wasn't that easy to keep it inside you.

"Okay.. Okay, I will build the machine but only for the stones, nothing else. Until then everyone just prepare yourself" Tony agreed eventually and dismissed everyone.

------

"Okay, Y/n and Natasha will go to Vormir and take the soul stone-"

"Can I not just go into the field or something?" You interrupted him, caused Natasha to sigh in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now?" She spoke up from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder not really caring "Yeah, now can she go with Clint or something?"

Tony rolled his eyes and just agreed with you this way the two of you wouldn't fight "Okay, fine Natasha and Clint will go, and you, Y/n will come with me"

You nodded and when Tony dismissed everyone, you walked towards the kitchen to finally eat something before going to suit up and go with Tony, but you was followed.

You knew you was followed but you simply didn't care, only when you didn't except it to be Natasha behind you "Y/n can we talk?"

You froze in place as she moved a little closed to you, you faced her and it seems as if your brain had malfunctioned at the sight of Natasha.

"I'm sorry Y/n, for being such a jackass to you. For treating you like you didn't matter. I love you and I'm really sorry" She took your silence as the opportunity to talk before you could.

"Are you kidding?" Now you spoke with disbelief.

She looked at you a little taken back which caused a "what?" to come out of her mouth.

"What do you mean what? It took you 5 years to understand how you treated me? Having time travel introduced suddenly makes it okay for you to think I will open my arms and say 'Aww baby! I have been waiting for you!'"

She shook her head "Of course it isn't okay.. I just wanted you to hear me actually say sorry, you at least deserve that. I'm really sorry Y/n and I love you so much" Her voice cracked at the end with tears in her eyes.

Looking at her so broken, it hurts you more than her leaving you. Tears in your eyes, you rush to her and embrace her in a tight warm hug, as the both of you cried quietly "I love you too Tasha"

Her heart melted at the nickname she haven't heard in so long, she pulled away and placed her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as another set of tears roll down her face, she tilted her head and kissed you, tasting your tears and her own but she didn't care.

She pulled away and whispered "I'll see you in a minute" with a small sad smile.

You smiled and let her go as you nodded, she walked off and you went to Tony after eating and suiting up.

--------

Everything seemed to work out, you had the stones and that's when you saw Clint with the last stone, you ran to him to take it and the only question you could ask is "Where is Natasha?"

He was about to answer when Tony called out to you and you had to ran to him but not before your eyes scanned around you to locate the redhead, when you failed you frowned but tried not to think so much about it, so you ran towards Tony and gave him the stones, Thanos tried his best to take it back and snap again but it didn't work because you guys were one step ahead of him, the gauntlet ended up with Bruce and he snapped his fingers even if he was in so much pain.

You turned around to see multiple portals open up and half of the population appearing again, your eyes scanned for Wanda and you caught glimpse of red, you knew it was her, you ran towards her and threw yourself at her.

"Oh my god, it's you.." You said with a shaky breath, not believing your eyes.

She hugged you back with the same affection and a kiss that was so passionate it made her head spin but soon parted to continue the fight but after watching Thanos turn to dust, you were in her arms again with more happiness than you felt during the 5 years.

Clint approached the two of you and with a sad smile and tears in his eyes "I'm so sorry"

You pulled away from the hug a little as you looked at him confused but it clicked in the instant "Where is she?!"

"What are you talking about?" Wanda asked confusion in her tone.

"The way to get the stone.. One of us had to sacrifice ourselves, it was suppose to be me but she was stubborn and she jumped"

You felt as if your heart stopped, your eyes widen at his words, Wanda's grip tighten around you as you felt anger build up in you "What do you mean she jumped?!"

Before he could even say anything, you repeated yourself "What do you mean she FUCKING JUMPED?!"

You ran your hands through your hair as you let out a shaky breath and Wanda pulled you into her, doing her thing that always calm you down, no words left her as she was shocked as well, so you stood there in her embrace, letting out a sob, similar to the one 5 years ago.

Present

There you are standing in front of Wanda as her words are laced with venom, the history repeating itself but this time with Wanda "Wands I know you don't mean what you're saying.. Don't do the same thing Natasha did to me-"

She interrupted you "She at least did the right thing, gosh it was such a mistake, all of this."

Your vision started to get clouded with tears at her words "That's not my fault that she jumped, I didn't force her-"

"YOU COULD'VE STOPPED HER Y/n!" She snapped at you, she was the calmest person you could've met but yet she changed so much in a course of a month.

"Like I could've stopped you from being dusted? I lost both of you! Not at the same time but yet it feels like it, she left me and now you're doing the same, there was nothing I could've done, you know how stubborn she is-" You tried to get your point across but she was just too angry to even listen.

"You was the last to see her and I never did so imagine how that feels... Just leave Y/n" She looked away with tears in her eyes but she held herself a little bit better than you.

You chuckled dryly as you wiped your face "You know, you are right, I could've stopped her, by being in her place instead, I'm sorry that it wasn't me but her"

She turned around to face you but you already walked out, the witch leaned on the wall as she covered her mouth to muffle a sob.

6 months later

You moved out of the compound after finding out that Tony had a spare cabin in the woods, he was more than happy to give it to you after finding out what have happened, you thanked him and gotten out of that compound, away from Wanda and everything that reminded you how much you have failed to keep the two people you loved the most.

You heard from Bucky that Wanda gotten engaged to Vision, you'll never understand how that walking air fryer has any capability to have any feelings, but if it took Wanda so fast to move on, why couldn't you?

You moved into a cabin that's only surrounded by trees so no one could hear you screaming at night with anger. You asked Tony to not tell anyone where you were, not that anyone actually cared to ask but he agreed.

You do visit Natasha's grave, place some flowers from time to time, and each time light a candle to let her know that you are always there even if she wasn't most of the time.

Right now you are sitting on the sofa as night falls, there was some noises outside which pulled your attention from the tv, you grabbed your gun and slowly walked towards the door, you opened it and pointed it ahead of you.

The person on the end of the gun wasn't someone you would expect "What are you doing here?" You lowered your gun.

The witch stood there with her hands up and a small smile "I'm here to talk"

You sighed and crossed your arms, you did your crying for the past 6 months till no tears came out, so you just stood there "What is there to talk about?"

"Can I?" She asked as she pointed to the inside of the cabin, it was warm inside but the outside was freezing so you agreed and let her in.

"How did you find me?" You asked still with your arms crossed.

"I might or might not have threatened Tony... because this is important" She confessed.

"If you are here to argue again then leave, I don't need this again-" You tried to sound with no emotions but the way you dropped your arms and just sighed gave it away you were still very hurt.

"I'm not here to argue, I'm here to apologise for what I have said, it wasn't okay, and I'm so sorry. I know you couldn't have done anything and I never blamed you Y/n, no one deserved to die the way she did, I was just angry with how I never saw her and you did and jealously is very ugly"

You shook your head "Wanda this won't fix anything, I lost the two of you, I saw you disappear in front of my eyes, she left me after that to try to bring you back along with the rest of the population, and then she died so you could be here and when I needed you the most, you did the exact thing"

"I know Y/n/n I know, I'm so sorry and I will do everything to try to be better for you, I want to be here for you because honestly I need you as well. I never stopped loving you" She was nervously playing with her rings on her fingers as tears filled her eyes.

"Wanda you are with Vision, you are practically married. Please stop I can't handle anymore pain" You admitted to her because frankly you couldn't, no matter how many times you tried to get over Wanda you couldn't. You learned how to accept that Natasha will never be back but It was still hard to be with someone apart the two of them.

"I left him, I can't be with him if its you I think about before falling asleep Y/n. So please let me make it up to you, if that's what you want or look me in the eyes and tell me that this is the end" Her breathing was unsteady by the end as she let her tears flow down her face.

You looked at her and into her eyes, you could tell her breath hitched just at you looking at her, your walls crumbled apart as you let your tears out and shake your head slowly "Okay but you best believe this wont be easy"

For the first time in so long, you saw a genuine smile on her face as she walked up to you and took you into her arms as she softly stated "I know... And I'm prepared for everything. I promise to never leave you again or hurt you.. I love you"

You sighed as you cried in her arms "I love you too дорогой (Sweetheart)"

[zosin-ya]

“Apology.”

Setting:  One Piece Universe; Zoro x Reader

Word Count: 1765

Summary: You damaged his sword a few times now and Zoro was clearly sick of it. He was frustrated which lead into anger. Anger he targeted at you. You knew he was right, and decided to apologize to him properly. This couldn’t end like this. 

!Credit to the Artist!

“That's the third time now, enough!”

He barked at you like a wild dog, and snatched the sword out of your hands. You wanted to use them a bit, just to see how it would be with a sword. He gave you permission a few times now and watched over you. He taught you some easy techniques and was quite excited to give you all of his knowledge. However, you always used his swords and in your inexperienced hands it happened that you harmed the blade. He told you to get yourself your own weapon, but since it was rather just to try out and not actually your weapon of choice for combat, you didn’t.

This was the third time. The third time you tried something with it, and accidentally cracked the tip of the sword. Zoro was patient in the beginning, he knew that it took time to learn it. But his weapons were not your toys when you were bored. He made this very clear. You watched him push it back into it’s scabbard before he stepped closer to you. The way he stood in front of you was threatening. Like a wild animal ready to lash out. He didn’t care that you were a crew member nor his friend. He had told you to be careful several times and this was enough.

“Get your own god damn sword. I’m sick of having to repair them all the time only you can play. This isn’t a game, Y/N. Swordsmanship is not a fucking game.”

You wanted to yell back and protest, however your words were stuck in your throat. You knew he was right, but you were too stubborn to admit it. Your pride was stopping you from actually listening to him and your impulsiveness had made you do it three times now. You’ve never seen him this angry and it scared you. Your body instinctively stepped back and you flinched at his words. Zoro was still standing in front of you, eyebrows deeply narrowed. His body language spoke aggression, which he tried to hold back. You made the string of patience rip.

Quickly you left the crows nest and disappeared into your shared room with the other two ladies. Nami and Robin had heard your argument and looked at each other, before following you into the bedroom. With your friends by your side, you quietly cried over your mistake.

“It’s better you apologize to him. As mad as he is, he will calm down after you do.”

“Are you sure? I doubt he wants to see my face again.” You sniffed and clinged onto your pillow. Robin nodded reassuringly and gently stroke your back. She didn’t want to remind you that what you did was indeed somewhat stupid, and Zoro was right. Nami was in the same boat. It was better to look ahead and look for a solution to get along with your crewmate again.

“Of course. I remember when Usopp wanted to leave the crew and basically dragged Luffy through the mud, Zoro gladly accepted him back when he apologized. He’s a simple man Y/N, and in no way someone who holds grudges for a long time.” Nami smiled at you and gave you a tissue to wipe those tears away. Hearing that, made you think for a moment. They’ve told you that story before, they probably knew the swordsman better than you did, considering you were rather new in comparison to Nami and Robin. You nuzzled your face into the pillow a bit and nodded.

“I will. Thank you.”

The next day when Zoro woke up, his hand automatically grabbed to his swords. With a yawn he put them besides his hip where they belonged to. Wado Ichimonji, Kitetsu...Shusui…wait.

“Shusui?” Confused he looked around in the room. His third sword was missing. He swore he left it next to him. He looked in his bed, in his closet, in the other beds and closets. It couldn’t be...did he leave it in the crows nest? He remembered he put all three swords aside before he went to sleep. “Fuck where did I leave it…” He mumbled to himself and looked through everything again. No matter how many times he looked in the room, he couldn’t find it.

Frustrated he walked on deck and searched there for his weapon. Usopp was sitting in the gras of the Sunny and noticed his crewmate walking around in distress. Before the sniper could question his mood, Zoro spoke up already. “Usopp, did you see Shusui?” He pointed at his hip where only two of his signature swords were. The other man shrugged and shook his head. “Nah, didn’t see it.”

“I saw Y/N leaving with it into town.”

A high voice pitched from the other side. It was Chooper, who was holding some drink in both of his hoofs. He sipped it slowly and looked at Zoro with his big deer eyes, like the innocent little thing he was. The swordsman tensed up noticeably and sighed. He clenched his hands into fists. It made Chopper back off a little. He was clearly mad at you taking his sword again. Zoro thought you haven’t learned your lesson and assumed you were messing around with it. How many times did he have to tell you to stop it. He already snapped at you yesterday. He wondered how stubborn you actually were. Maybe you did it on purpose he wasn't sure. But enough was enough.

“Z-Zoro...w-wait what's the matter?” Usop watched him stomping off the sunny with confusion. He wasn’t on the ship yesterday, therefore didn’t hear the argument you had. The anger his friend was radiating was irritatingly strong. He’d never seen him this angry at you. “What was that…”, the sniper mumbled to himself, before he shrugged and continued to work.

You had some business in town which you just finished. The way back to the harbour was quite calming, it was a small little road through a little forest area. The atmosphere surely helped your nervosity. Robin had helped you get Zoros sword while he slept. The weapon was wrapped in fabric and strapped on your back. It should be a little surprise along with the little bag you had in your hand. You dearly hope he would forgive you. You felt sorry for what you did and didn’t want to risk your friendship to continue like this.

Sadly, the surprise wasn’t one for long. In the distance you could see the owner of the said sword. His posture was giving you clear signs. Zoro was mad, yet again because of you. He must have noticed his sword was missing. Obviously. You had hoped to get back to the ship before he woke up, which clearly failed. You swallowed hard when he stomped to you and grabbed your collar.

“Z-Zoro, please let me explain!”

You rose your hands in defense when he handled you this roughly. His fingers were dug deep into the fabric of your shirt, an iron grip which you couldn’t escape. His eyes shot from you, to his sword on your back. Seeing the fabric around it, he narrowed his eyes. “Did you break it now?! I swear to god if you-”

“Let me explain Zoro, I beg you.” Your voice was filled with fear that he’d be mad for you forever. The expression you gave him through your eyes made him hold still for a second. He frightened you. You looked like a scared animal ready to run away and hide. With a sigh he let go, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Fine. Speak.”

“I...I wanted to apologize…” Zoro raised one eyebrow when you grabbed behind your back to his sword. You placed the bag in your hand on the ground to remove the fabric from the weapon. The scabbard was shining in the sun. Someone polished it, even the little scratched in the wood were gone and a fresh layer of polishing wax was on it. You pulled the black blade out, the one you broke the tip off. The metal was shining as well, sharp like new. Zoro eyes widened when he saw his sword. He was speechless. It seemed like you brought his sword to a blacksmith to- not only repair the blade -but also give it a clean up. It looked fantastic, he didn’t know what to say. “Y-You…”

“And this.” You put the sword back into it’s scabbard and handed it over to him. Zoro gladly took it, still speechless. The bag on the ground was also for him. You gave it to the swordsman as well. A delicious smell hit his nostrils. He didn’t have to look inside to know that it was the smell of smoked eel. It was still warm even. With his sword in one and, and the food in the other, he stood there completely baffled. He didn’t expect this and didn’t know how to react. His eyes wandered from the food to his sword. However, when you spoke up, Zoro faced you again.

“I’m sorry for acting like that. I know swordsmanship is not a game, I apologize for disrespecting. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Zoro stood there in silence for a second, before he sighed deeply. He put his sword back and stroke through his hair. He felt like he had to apologize as well. He was way too rude to you. The way he had grabbed you earlier obviously had scared you. It wasn’t his intention. Zoro didn’t want to scare you off like that. “It’s alright. I guess I should apologize for being that rough.”

With a relieved smile you shook your head. You were more than happy that Zoro accepted your apology. That was more important. “Already forgotten...I hope you like smoked eel by the way.” Zoro nodded with a small smile on his features, and sat down on the side of the road. He motioned next to him. “Hope you do as well.”

Together you sat next to each other and emptied the little box full of delicious rice and eel. Zoro asked you how you managed to get his sword and how you found that blacksmith. You quickly explained which made him grin a little. You were a bit clumsy with swords but you surely were witty. Soon you two drifted into some conversation about god and the world, as if nothing happened. Nami was right, Zoro wasn’t someone who held grudges long. Especially not with this kind of apology.

[nervousladytraveler]

Anonymous Said: Showing affections Prompt #44--Tummy Kisses

(from the Like Someone universe)

“Sit still,” Demelza ordered and put an ice pack to Ross’s eye. He winced from the cold but knew better than to argue. She’d been eerily calm this whole time, from the moment he showed up on their doorstep, his nose bloodied, his shirt torn, his right eye swollen. She still appeared calm, but moved about the bedroom with an urgency of mission.

Her light fingers unbuttoned his shirt and examined his bruised side. Even though her brow furrowed and her lips were pulled tight, her face was inscrutable. She was standing next to him, tending to his needs, yet she was far away.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled but gasped when touched.

“Is that so? You don’t look fine and you certainly don’t sound fine,” she huffed. Was that impatience and anger?

“Do you think you should see a doctor?” she asked. Now her tone seemed to betray worry.

“No!”

“Ross, what if your ribs are broken?” She took the ice pack from his eye and gently put it to his ribs.

“They’re not broken,” he managed to hiss between throbs of pain.

“And how would you know that?” she laughed. He was glad to see the change in her expression, even if it meant she thought him a complete idiot.

“I’ve broken a rib before,” he explained. “This doesn’t feel like that.”

He took a deep breath to show her, then covered her hand with his, hoping he could reach her. It seemed to work for when she next spoke, she couldn’t disguise the tenderness in her voice.

“Oh? In the army?” she asked cautiously. He never spoke of his experience in Cyprus just like she never talked about her childhood.

“No, I fell off a horse when I was sixteen.” It was a painful memory and thinking about it wasn’t helping him feel better now.

“Were you pissed or just showin’ off?”

“Both, as I recall.” He gave a weak smile, fairly certain a laugh would hurt too much.

Ross took the ice from her and moved it back to his eye, then considered putting it to his puffy lip. He hadn’t looked in the mirror but expected he was a ghastly sight. He still held his right hand aloft, as if the scraped knuckles were his biggest injury.

“Do you think George will file a complaint?” she asked.

Taking his cue, she took his hand in hers to examine it. When she dabbed the split skin with cotton wool soaked in surgical spirit, it stung horribly. Surely she knew that it would. Could it be that she enjoyed watching him flinch? She was rapidly cycling between moods again.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I doubt it. He might find it humiliating to admit he was…”

“Beat up? That is, can I assume it wasn’t Warleggan that threw the first punch?”

“You can--and you’d be correct.”

“And you still won’t tell me what George said that made you so enraged?” She held his chin and looked into his eyes for one agonizing moment, then perhaps sensing his discomfort, released him.

“No, no I won’t.” Ross was firm on that score. It was better she never know. George’s insult would be something she couldn't unhear or easily forget.

“You are so fuckin’ stubborn,” she mumbled and stepped back to give him another head to toe appraisal.

Trickles of blood from his nose had stained the front of her hoodie. He hated seeing that on her, hated himself for bringing that into their home.

“Of course George wouldn’t actually hit another grown man unless egged on.” She laughed but Ross thought he heard a note of tired resignation. “If he wanted to hurt someone or even ruin them, he’d use his snarky attitude or his money, not his fists. Seems like maybe he’s a wiser man.”

“Than me?” Ross sputtered. She couldn’t mean it.

“I don’t understand, Ross!” She ignored his question and plopped down on the bed next to him. Yes, it was tired resignation. “Why is George Warleggan such a menace to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s hardly sudden. He’s been after Carnmore for years, and now? Now, his shadow lurks over the Trenwith Poldarks too. He’s interfering with my family…”

“I thought we were your family. Us--here at Nampara?” she interrupted.

“Demelza,” he exhaled, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words. “Of course, you are my family...”

“Yet it was a threat from George to Elizabeth that provoked you…” she began.

“Demelza…” he sighed.

Again she ignored him and after a quick eye roll, continued. “Sorry, a threat to Elizabeth and Uncle Charles made you hit him?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” It hurt to shake his head.

“Whatever. Okay Ross, take your shirt off entirely,” she ordered and rose to her feet again. “Trousers too.”

“What are you doing?” he asked. Without thinking he obeyed her command and began the valiant struggle to free himself from his clothes. It took longer than he expected and he was grateful when she removed his trousers for him so he didn't have to bend over.

“We need photos of your injuries. In case George does pursue charges, we’ll have a record of the damage he did to you.” She’d pulled her mobile from her pocket and began taking pictures of his nose, his mouth. She tilted his head to get a better angle of his eye, then she gave him a soft kiss on his temple.

She had no idea how much he needed that--or maybe she did.

“Okay, now your hand. Consider it evidence,” she went on.

“Evidence that I hit him,” Ross said, then taking a chance, he held his hand up and flashed his more imploring eyes. She took the bait and gave his knuckles a kiss.

“Now for your side, I need more light. Can you stand? Or maybe lie down? No, sit up but just turn this way…”

“Ugh!” he groaned, unable to hide the difficulty in even a slight twist of his torso.

“Ross! Fucking hell! If it hurts that much to turn...”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Without touching him, she took a few snaps of his ribs, then sat down again. This time it sounded like a sigh and whimper collected in her throat.

“Ross,” she said, her head slipped into her hands.

He rubbed her back, aware that he was now soothing her. He’d prefer to take her in his arms but doubted he had the mobility to pull that off.

“Demelza? I know you’re angry at me…” he began.

“No, Ross. It isn’t that simple.”

“You think that I'm not listening to you…”

Intrigued, she looked up and raised one brow. She was clearly listening.

“I am--I mean, I do listen,” he said.

She put her hand on his thigh. It felt good, mostly because he welcomed her touch but also because his legs were among the only parts of his body not throbbing in pain.

“Yes, Ross,” she said softly.

His heart sank. It wasn't what she said, but what she didn’t say.

Of course.

She’d grown up in a household of unpredictable anger and physical brutality--a world she took great pains to leave behind when she came to Nampara. For Ross to cavalierly and unapologetically engage in that very same behavior, was not just a disappointment, but a betrayal of her trust. She had to know the man she loved wouldn’t ever bring violence into her life--even if he was capable of it.

He had to show her.

“Demelza, I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered.

“And I won’t ever again...”

“Don't make promises Ross. Just try your best,” she said softly. “And just know that I can’t stand to see you hurt.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“And George Warleggan certainly isn’t worth all this,” she snorted.

“No, he’s not,” he agreed then felt the need for some levity. “I’ll choose better enemies in future.”

“Oh?” It worked. She was amused.

“Like...an angry bear. What if I promise to only resort to violence again if I need to defend you from a bear?”

“Bears have been extinct on this isle for 1500 years,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Wolves?”

“No wolves--gone since the 16th century.” She smiled at yet another factual triumph.

“I’m always impressed with how much you know,” he laughed. “You really did pay attention in school, didn't you? Okay...only if I need to defend you from a madman…”

“Close, but still not quite good enough. It would have to be a madman with a knife,” she suggested. “Or of course a madwoman--with a knife.”

“That sounds fair,” he nodded and took her hand again, tracing her fingers with his thumb.

“Ross, love, lie down and I’ll get you some more ice.”

“I don't want ice. Just your kisses.” He suppressed a groan as he managed to stretch out on the bed.

“Oh?“ she laughed. “Kisses won’t bring down the swellin’ or ease the pain.”

“Yes, they most certainly will ease it. They’ll give me pleasure.” He pulled her down level with him.

“But I might hurt you!’ she cried and began to pull away.

“No you won’t. I’ll show you. Start here.” He pointed to a spot on the side that had managed to escape injury from left-handed George.

“Yes, Ross,” She gingerly kissed his external oblique then pulled away with a giggle.

“Now here.” A little lower. This time she lingered a little longer.

“And here…” Ross knew those lips and what they were capable of. He closed his eyes and struggled to let himself go.

Her open mouth on his skin moved him but he tried not to react too much to the exhilaration. Even small movements brought agony. Her hands were no longer tentative, and with inspired strokes, she traced along the noticeable groove his ligaments made connecting his middle to his groin.

Without waiting for his directive, she moved a few inches inward along his waistline and gave another kiss.

“Now my tummy.”

“Tummy?” She looked up at him, eyes bright, teeth gleaming in an uncontrollable smile.

He’d never used that word with her before to describe his abdomen. She seemed to see he was aiming for a laugh and was willing to play along.

She kissed his navel, careful to stay on the unbruised side of his body.

“Yes, tummy.” He pointed to the shadowy region that crept up from the top of his boxers.

“Um Ross? That’s not your tummy.”

[catboymingi]

bittersweet

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: angst, fluff; best friends to strangers to enemies to lovers

word count: 7.7k

warnings: self harm, mental illness, suicidal thoughts (though no behaviour described in detail at all), addiction (alcoholism to be precise), language

a/n: this one’s heavy... also this is heavily based on personal experience so don’t come jumping at me for inaccuracies thank u - also the links during the story take you to the same song as the first link, but they have the swedish og lyrics on hover (sorry mobile users)

när jag var liten kändes alltid som att det var du och jag mot skiten / så jag ville att vi skulle göra allt tillsammans / men jag märkte tydligt att du ville nånting annat / behandlade mig sämst / vi var bara ungar - when i was small it always felt like it was you and me against the world / so i wanted us to do everything together / but i noticed clearly that you wanted something else / treated me worst / we were just kids

you had no idea what happened. you’d been so close with mingi ever since you moved, him being the first friend you’d made in the new school, and eight-year-old you really appreciated him. he fought off the bullies for you, he was always there, but suddenly he wasn’t. you were in high school, and everything had been as always, until it wasn’t. until he started avoiding you like you had a deadly and contagious disease, like you’d killed his parents. he hated you and you had no idea why, had no idea why your best friend suddenly decided that some random people he’d barely ever talked to before were a better company than you, who’d been with him through thick and thin for the past decade. saying that you were heartbroken was an understatement.

it took you so long to get back on track after the day mingi had started avoiding you, hating you, but eventually, you managed to do it. you banned all thoughts of him from your head, deleted all messages, pictures, and other traces of him you had on your phone and got rid of all physical memories, too. your parents knew you weren’t okay, and they were so relieved when you asked them if you could set something on fire in the backyard, because it finally seemed like you were getting closer to healing. it had been months, and they’d been worried for your life, but they had no idea how to get your now ex-best friend to reach out to you. they couldn’t call him up and just tell him that he needed to talk to you before you killed yourself, even though they wished they could.

by the time you started university you were almost back to normal, the only outward signs of what you’d gone through being the scars covering your arms and your refusal to drink alcohol, at all. you got obsessed with your major, studying to become a therapist so that you could maybe, hopefully help people feel understood and okay when they were in a similar situation to the one you’d been in. this passion made you the best of your year, acing all exams because every free minute was spent on revising the materials and taking on extra projects and doing all you could to keep yourself busy.

but you weren’t okay, not actually. the worry was still there, the fear, and it was the reason why you hadn’t made a single friend even when the fourth semester of university was almost over already. it was after a particularly hard exam (that of course you’d aced again) that you, for the first time since your other half had left, agreed to go out with someone, a random dude from your course that you’d consequently ignored up to that point who invited you to some maths major’s party.

“it’s gonna be fun, and we deserve some fun after that fucking hell of an exam” was how he had convinced you, and you decided that it couldn’t hurt.

what you didn’t know then yet, however, was that he’d ditch you the second you’d taken off your jacket at the party that same evening, saying that if he’d known that you were a nutcase he’d never have asked you out.

“you’re hot but that’s just not what i wanna put up with.” and that from a psychology major. great.

the evening got worse when you found out whose party this was. you didn’t even know that mingi went to the same uni as you, and he’d obviously moved out of his parents’ house by now, so the address didn’t ring a bell, either. it was first when you saw him that you realised. and everything came crashing down on you again, all the things you’d convinced yourself you were over. and even though you’d promised yourself you’d never touch alcohol again, not even cough medicine including it, you broke that promise now, going straight for the hard liquor. that seemed to impress the horny idiots around you, how you downed it without even flinching, and because you didn’t care about what you should and shouldn’t do right now you let the first one to make a move touch you up and down, making out with you (which had effectively stolen your first kiss from you, but what did it even matter anymore?) and whispering to your ear just how hot you were. you didn’t care for him, but you knew that the one you cared for couldn’t give fewer shits about you. you were tired of being alone, of being hurt, of being lonely, and you just wanted to forget. so you let this dude whose name you didn’t know and didn’t care to know make out with you on the kitchen counter, because by now there was no way your situation could get any worse anymore, anyway.

your lack of interest seemingly didn’t stay hidden to him, though, so at some point he left you with a displeased grunt. it was obvious he’d expected a little more excitement from you, and now he was looking for the next drunk girl he could get to fuck him. you didn’t care. you got some more alcohol, pushing every thought of your parents as far away as you could, because you knew they’d be so disappointed. they’d always cared, but it hadn’t changed anything for you. the one you needed to care didn’t even notice how you were slipping. you’d be surprised if he’d even known that you got hospitalised after graduation.

but now you were here, in his house, and you hated it, hated him, hated yourself. you wanted to get out, to disappear before he’d ever even notice you’d been there in the first place, so you stole a bottle of whatever was closest to you and left the house.

it was embarrassing that you weren’t even drunk yet. you had no idea how much you’d drunk, but you barely felt tipsy. so when the one you wanted to leave you alone the most came outside after you, you had to deal with the emotions that that caused in you entirely sober.

“the fuck do you want?” you hadn’t expected yourself to be able to be angry at him when you’d get to talk to him again. you’d expected yourself to cry, to break down and beg for him to come back, but maybe at least that the alcohol saved you from.

“i want to check up on you. since when do you drink?”

you hated him. you fucking hated him more than anything else you’d ever hated, except for maybe yourself, and you hated that he thought he had the right to check up on you now when he was the reason you were even in this state at all.

“let’s see. i think you last talked to me on the fifteenth of january, two years ago? so it’s gotta be the sixteenth.” maybe it wasn’t fair to confront him with the effects of what he did like this, but it hadn’t been fair of him to leave you hanging like this either. he deserved this, deserved to know what the fuck he’d done to you. that he’d destroyed the happy, passionate, excited you that you’d been, replacing her with a bitter, suicidal bitch with trust issues through the roof.

“why?” he seemed confused, and you wanted to spit in his face. you wanted to punch him. you wanted anything but to have to talk to him.

“take a wild fucking guess.” and with those words you turned on your heel, leaving him with his emotions as you left with the bottle of alcohol that wouldn’t make it to the next morning.

you were slipping again. picked up all the bad habits you’d had, barely getting sleep because you still had to study, were still obsessed with getting the best grades, but now also had unhealthy habits to feed, so there wasn’t a lot of time left for sleep. it didn’t matter, though - why sleep if you’d only have nightmares either way?

luckily you didn’t see mingi again after that night. that was, until he’d somehow figured out your major, your classes, your schedule, and was waiting for you in front of your classroom after your last class for the day. you tried to bolt, but he grabbed your wrist instinctively to keep you from running away. when you yelped out in pain, though, he let go as if he’d just burned himself. until now he hadn’t even noticed what you looked like. but now that he did, it broke his heart.

“what do you want now? want to fuck me up again? because i can do that by myself now, thank you very much.” your voice shot daggers at him, and he looked like a hit puppy. what made this worse was that he knew you were right.

“please talk to me. i brought vodka.” he didn’t intend to give it to you, but you didn’t have to know that. and his weak bribing worked, which only made him feel even more awful. just how fucking hurt did you have to be to talk to him, the guy you very obviously hated, just because he offered you free booze?

“come.” and you did, followed him to a park near uni you knew was notorious for getting fucked or wasted, and you intended to keep up this reputation as you sat down next to him.

“alcohol.” it wasn’t even a question, you just demanded the bottle, but he wasn’t about to comply.

“first you talk to me.”

the angry glare you gave him could have killed him had you kept it up for longer than a couple seconds, but you sighed in frustration and looked away.

“fine then, talk. but this vodka better be damn good.”

he didn’t know how to start, though. ran his hands through his hair and shifted constantly and looked everywhere but at you. but then, finally, he got his shit together.

“what happened to you?” his eyes were fixed on your arms, the arms whose skin was a lot smoother and healthier the last time he’d seen it, and his voice was soft, almost as if he cared. maybe it was because of that that your reply held less sharpness than the past ones had.

“what do you think?” and his heart broke. he didn’t want it to be him, he didn’t want this to be because of him, he didn’t want to be at fault for so much pain and suffering.

“it’s me.” and when you nodded he wished someone’d beat him up, hard and good, just so he’d feel at least some pain as a payback for all the pain he’d caused you.

your voice was surprisingly soft when you continued, and you didn’t even know why yourself.

“it’s nothing big. i just… slipped, i guess. had a really hard time. i don’t even know what happened to make you hate me like that, and that got to me. like, we didn’t argue or anything, so it wasn’t like i had a reason to stop caring about you. it just felt like without you nothing mattered.”

you sounded calm, collected, but voicing it like this brought back all the hurt, and you just really wanted the alcohol now. you grabbed around him in order to retrieve the bottle from his bag, but he caged you in a hug, effectively making you unable to move.

“it’s a big deal. fuck, y/n, look at you. how is this not a big deal? you can’t even talk to me without getting wasted.”

and even though he was right you hated how it sounded like that was your fault, not his. you hated how it sounded like you were weak for this when he had no idea what the fuck you’d been through these past two years. it made you angry.

“and you’re better? straight up ignoring me for however long it took me to get the hint like some pussy instead of talking to me? we used to be best friends, for fuck’s sake!” you tried to hide your heartbrokenness behind this anger, and once more the person who used to always be there to hold you when you needed it let go of you as if you’d burned him. not even now could he man up.

“you know what? fuck this. fuck your vodka and fuck you. don’t fucking talk to me again. as i said, i’m fucking my life up enough without you there to aid in the process.” and you tried to get up, but he grabbed you by your waist, not wanting to hurt you but refusing to let you go in this state when he hadn’t even gotten to talk to you yet. it was selfish, he knew it was, but he wanted to explain himself. he didn’t know if it’d help you, but he needed the closure. he needed you to know why he’d acted like that and then decide if you still wanted to hate him.

“i’m not letting go”, he said as you struggled in his grip, “not until you’ve listened.”

“i don’t fucking want to hear it!” now you were yelling, and it was only because everyone else in this park was too busy or too knocked out to fully comprehend what was happening that he wasn’t getting his ass beat by a stranger coming to your aid.

“you’re going to listen. you know i’m stronger.” this was an asshole move. it was a massive asshole move, using his strength against you to keep you trapped with him. but your state had him throw out any ethical concerns he otherwise would’ve had, instead pulling you into his lap and holding you tightly.

“then fucking talk and get this over with.” your body had gone slack in his arms, because you knew struggling against him wasn’t going to work. your voice still held the same sharpness to it though. you really hated him.

“you act like i didn’t have a reason”, he started quietly, covering your mouth with his hand when you tried to interrupt him. “but i did. the fuck do you think i felt when you kept being better at everything than me? everything was easy for you, you just went with your feeling, and i was doing awful but i kept trying even though it was hard as shit and you didn’t even notice. you went out to meet people and have a good time while i was sitting home alone trying to keep up. you didn’t even care. i told you i couldn’t join and every single time you just said ‘okay, another time then!’. you didn’t notice how much i missed you. and i got sick and tired of being the only one that’s missing their best friend.”

you listened to what he said and couldn’t believe he was serious right now. he completely broke you because you didn’t spend enough time with him?

“what the fuck, mingi. what the fuck. you wrecked me because you were sulky about me not being around 24/7? let go of me right now or i’m going to break your nose, you know i will.” he knew you would, so he did as you told him to, but not without trying to defend himself.

“it wasn’t that, it was that you never even tried to make follow-up plans! you kept going out with other friends, friends that didn’t have to spend all their nights home studying. you just replaced me.”

“and you didn’t think to fucking talk to me about it? i missed you like crazy, you fucking asshole, but i went out with others because i knew you had to study and because i didn’t want to keep you from that. because i dared to care more about your success than about what i wanted. and then you just dumped me, one day to the next, without an explanation, because you thought i didn’t care? does breaking off all other social contacts look like not caring to you? do hospitalisations look like not caring to you? does this”, you motioned to yourself, “look like not caring to you? i knew you were a coward, but back then i thought it was cute. now i just think it’s pathetic.” you all but spat those last words at his face, and he knew you were right. he knew all that now, but back then he’d been so scared of losing you that he forced himself to lose you. fucking idiotic.

“you act like it didn’t hurt me, too.”

“you sure didn’t act like it when you started fucking around with some people you’d never even talked to right after you decided ignoring me was the way to go!” you were crying now, crying and screaming at him, and you despised yourself for the vulnerability you were showing.

“give me the vodka, mingi.” but he didn’t. and when you tried to grab it he took the bag from you, leaving you staring into the air.

“give me the fucking vodka or i’m gonna leave right now and get my own. and then you’re never gonna see me again.”

but instead of handing you the bottle he all but jumped up, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sounding so incredibly desperate that you felt your anger vanish at his next words.

“please don’t- please don’t do that. please don’t kill yourself. hate me, break my nose, whatever, but please don’t go like that. i can’t handle it. i’m nothing without you.”

and it was now that he started crying, tears soaking the fabric on your shoulder, shaking as if there was an earthquake inside of him that would make him fall to shambles any second. you hadn’t even realised that you might have implied what he obviously thought you meant - what you meant was that this time you’d be the one to ignore him, pretending he didn’t even exist. but his reaction to potentially losing you in a whole new way made you think that maybe, he cared.

“i’m not going to kill myself over you, butthead.” and while your words held a similar level of sharpness to them as they had before, your voice was much softer, calmer - you patted his hands that were linked together in front of your stomach to keep you from leaving, trying to comfort him for whatever reason. he didn’t deserve it, and you were still so angry at him, but he’d been your best friend, your other half, and you still didn’t like to see him suffer like this, even though the part in you that wanted him to feel all the pain you’d felt wouldn’t agree.

“i don’t want to lose you again”, he whimpered against your shoulder. “i never want to lose you again.”

“so what’s your plan? i’m never gonna forget what you did, mingi, i’m never gonna forget how as soon as i start getting happy you come back, crashing into my life as if nothing had happened. i’m never going to let anyone hold me back again.”

“i’m not going to hold you back”, he pleadingly spoke into your skin, “i’m not going to message you, i’m not going to ask to meet up, i’m not going to wait in front of your class, nothing. i’ll only be there when you ask me to.”

“and you think that’d help? having me do all the work again, having me beg for your attention again? you think that’s even remotely what i want?” you weren’t angry at him, because it seemed like he was saying this for you, but you were frustrated. he still didn’t seem to understand at all what you wanted from him, what you’d wanted from him ever since he started ignoring you. you wanted him to fight for you, not vice versa.

“then let me fight for you. let me do the work. i’ll do anything, just please give me another chance. one very last chance. and please… stop all this.” you didn’t need to see him to know what he meant.

“that’s not how it works. i can’t just stop like that when i started. and you’re not gonna be able to fix me, if you think that.”

“i know, of course not, but… please try. it’s summer break soon. maybe then you could… i don’t know what you could. do something. i want to be there for you.”

you didn’t want to give in to him. you didn’t want to believe him. you wanted to keep being angry, you wanted to keep hating him, you didn’t want to risk the same kind of heartbreak you’d felt the first time he left. but this was mingi. and even though you refused to admit it even to yourself, you still missed him like crazy.

“let go.” and he did, hesitantly, but he did as you told him to.

“look at me. look me in the eyes and tell me you know what that’s gonna mean. tell me that you’ll be there when i’m in rehab and can’t go places and i’m angry as shit and hate everything and everyone and mainly you because you made me go to that stupid place. tell me you’ll be there when i relapse, not just once but so many times, and that you won’t get angry. tell me that you fucking know what it means, that you know you won’t be a priority, that there’s gonna be days where i won’t want to hear from you at all. tell me that you know you’re gonna have to fight for me, and tell me that you will. and if you can’t tell me that, let me leave right now to spare both of us the pain because it’s just gonna be a waste of time otherwise.”

“i’ll be there. every single day, or like. whenever i’m allowed to, i don’t know how rehab works. and when i can’t be there i’ll call you and text you, even if you hate me. i’ll hold you until you don’t hate me anymore. even if i have to spend the entire day holding you that’s how it is. i don’t fucking care what i’ll have to do, i’ll do it all. i miss you.” with those last words he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he whispered a silent ‘please’ into your hair. and you didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to get your hopes up, but part of you was still so soft for him. so, even though your mind was screaming at you to tell him to fuck off, your heart won, your heart made you wrap your arms around him and hold on tight.

“if you fuck up i’m breaking your legs.”

“if i fuck up i’m breaking them myself.” he knew this was his last chance. he knew that if he messed up now he’d be losing you forever, and that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

his hands were rubbing up and down your back, as gentle as you remembered him to be, while you were standing there and hugging and trying to calm down. you’d missed him so incredibly much and you wished you could stay in that moment forever.

“how are you feeling?” he could feel you were shaking slightly in his arms, though he wasn’t sure why. it could be the cool air, it could be the emotions running through you, it could be something he didn’t even want to think about. but either way he knew you should probably leave.

“it’s all so fucking much. i’m still pissed at you, but i guess i’m also glad that you’re here. and i’m fucking horrified.”

your shaking was most definitely at least partly owed to your emotional state, because it got worse now, you grabbing his t-shirt and clinging on to it for dear life.

“what are you scared of?” he sounded so fucking soft and calm and you wanted to crawl into his shirt and hide there and never leave for the real world ever again. you wanted him to keep you safe and to protect you because life and the things that were coming for you were scarier than you wanted to admit.

“you. rehab. my parents are gonna be so fucking hurt when i have to go back. fuck, i want the vodka.” but to your surprise you didn’t move to get it, you didn’t try to leave mingi’s embrace.

“you’re staying the night at my place”, he informed you, and you looked up at him in surprise.

“this talk was long overdue, but to be honest even i could use some vodka right now. i don’t want to imagine how you’re feeling, but i know i’m not gonna leave you alone in that state. no won’t count.”

“you know you won’t be able to just make me stop like that?”, you asked, wanting to be sure he didn’t have some weird saviour complex that made him think that just because he was there all your problems would suddenly vanish. but he seemed to know, even though he wished that was how it worked.

“not forever, but tonight’s a good start. i just want to be with you right now.” and even though you really wanted to get drunk you wanted to spend the night with mingi more, something that surprised you, especially considering how you’d just told him he wouldn’t be able to make you stop.

“i’m not going back there yet though, so if anything we’ll go to my place”, was the compromise you offered, and he gladly accepted. he held your hand almost the entire way, refusing to not be touching you in some way now that he might get you back, and this was less awkward than having his arm around your shoulders, which he’d tried first.

your apartment was a mess, you knew it was, but instead of judging you the tall male just kicked whatever trash you’d left on the floor out of the way to make his way to your bed, where he intended to spend the rest of the day and the entire night. he wrapped his arms around you as soon as you’d settled next to him, pulling you close like he used to when you were younger.

“i’m so sorry for all this”, he whispered, “so so fucking sorry.” and even though you’d somewhat sorted what had happened in the past, this was the first time he actually apologised. you hadn’t known how much you needed to hear him apologise until he did, whining out slightly as you pressed yourself closer against him. you wanted him to keep talking, keep apologising, keep promising that he wasn’t going to leave. but he was quiet after that, so instead of his comforting words your thoughts filled the silence in your head.

“keep talking before i get up”, you told him, the choice of words making it sound like a threat but the pleading way you said it making it clear that you were all but begging him. and he complied, luckily he complied, because you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts away for much longer.

“i missed you every day. it wasn’t fun to sit at lunch without you, or be in class, or do anything, really. i know it’s my fault, but back then i expected you to fight more, and when you just stopped trying after a while i thought i was right, even though you tried to talk to me every day for like two weeks and every single time i just straight up acted like i didn’t even hear you. i have no idea what i expected you to do, actually. sing me a love song in front of my window?” he chuckled a little, though it sounded somewhat bitter.

“i think that’s what i was secretly hoping for, if i’m real. not a love song, maybe, but some kinda confession. but instead of opening my mouth myself i just hoped that you’d get the hint i never even dropped. guess i really am a coward, huh?” he was running a hand through your hair, gently scratching your scalp whenever he dragged his fingers down because back then you’d liked that and he hoped you still did.

“you’re an idiot”, you mumbled, though his somewhat-confession made you feel all weird inside. you’d liked him back then, too, but admittedly he hadn’t been the only coward. and before you’d ever had the chance to gather the courage to confess he’d cut you off.

“i know. i don’t think i’ve ever done anything more stupid than that. and now i’ve wasted my chance and have to live with the fact that i’ll die without ever having gotten to kiss you. it’s my own fault, though.” there was a hint of playful resignation in his tone, as if this confession was more to get it off his chest than it was for him to actually confess to you - as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that you might feel the same way.

“just do it now.”

he hadn’t expected that, surprise apparent when he asked: “can i?”, and you knew you should say no, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t be in your bed with mingi so close and telling him to kiss you, but you’d missed him, and you were hurt and happy and desperate, and you just wanted to feel loved. and though this didn’t have to be love, this didn’t have to mean as much as you wanted it to, you could pretend. you wanted to pretend, so you didn’t say ‘no’ as you should, but ‘yes’ as you wanted.

and he did it, leaning in to press his lips against yours but not moving any more until you hadn’t pulled away even after a few seconds. then he actually kissed you, his one thumb stroking your cheek while the other was fondling with some strands of hair at the back of your head. and you knew your breath was gross, still reeking of the alcohol you’d drunk earlier that day, but mingi didn’t care. you were warm and soft against him and you were there and he’d take whatever he could get from you, even if it was vodka breath.

you didn’t want him to pull away, because you feared that once he did your world would come crashing down again and he’d tell you that now his curiosity was stilled and this should remain a one-time thing.

and you feared that you’d been right about this being a one-time thing, because he apologised as soon as he broke the kiss. but he didn’t apologise for what you thought he’d apologise for.

“i shouldn’t have done that. not like this. fuck, i just took advantage of this entire situation, i’m so sorry. fuck. feel free to break my nose.”

“don’t break my heart and i won’t break your bones. deal?” the big smile he gave you was so easy to see even though it was starting to get dark outside now, and you felt a small smile tug at the corners of your own mouth. he was here, and he’d kissed you, and maybe he’d do it again. maybe you’d finally be able to be okay again, actually okay, really okay.

“i promise.” he pulled your head into his chest, resuming to run his fingers through your hair and telling you sweet nothings.

“you’re so beautiful. so kind and so strong, such a fighter. i’m so glad i’m here right now, so grateful you let me, and i’m never going to leave again, ever. i’m here now, and you won’t have to be alone anymore. i’ll try to make it right, all the things i did wrong. i’m sorry. but i’m with you now.”

you were pretty certain he wasn’t even thinking much about what he was saying, just saying anything that was on his mind, as much for you as for himself. but even if it wasn’t for you that he was saying all this, it still helped you, comforted you, gave you some hope. one thing you had to clear up, though.

“we’re not a thing”, you murmured into his chest, though the way you were clinging to him betrayed your words, showed how much you wanted to be. “we’re not a thing because you don’t know anything. you can’t play a video game on easy and then enter the world championship and think you’ll win. i can’t talk to you for a single day and then think it’d work out.”

and mingi got it. he knew that this was a decision that had to be made logically, not based on what he wanted in that moment. but that didn’t mean he was just going to give up like this. he told you he’d fight for you, and he would.

“talk to me more, then. i told you i’m not going to leave.”

“you say that now.” there was sadness in your voice, resignation. “but it’s different when i’m shitfaced. when i’m crying my eyes out because recovery is hard and i don’t want to anymore. when i call you at 3 in the morning begging you to come over and check on me and make sure i’m not dying because i’m scared i went too deep this time. when i tell you i hate you even though you didn’t do shit just because i need someone to take my anger out on. none of this shit is pretty or romantic and the sooner you realise that, the better.”

“i’m going to be there.” he didn’t say more and you were glad about that, because even though you’d been the one to bring all this up you didn’t want to talk about it, you just wanted to be held and comforted and protected. and he did, he held you until you fell asleep, and was still holding you when you woke up the next morning.

//

it was weird to be back with mingi. it was familiar but completely different, and it was hard, as you’d told him it’d be. but he kept his promise, even though it hurt to see you struggle and in pain, he was there when you needed him and he was there when you didn’t. he was there to hold you when you called your parents to tell them you had to go back to rehab, and he was there to calm your nerves the day before you left, force-feeding you snacks to keep your mouth busy because by now he’d learned the signs of when you really craved alcohol and while he learned that the most he could usually do was to make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a coma that night he made sure you didn’t drink at all, because you were going to rehab the next day and he wanted you to have decent starting conditions and he knew you wanted that, too, and a hangover was the worst starting condition you could possibly have. he was there to kiss you that night, because even though you’d been the one to tell him to not try anything until he’d proven he meant it the snacks just didn’t do it and you needed something else in your mouth. he knew it was just your desperation that had made you beg him to please kiss you, but he did, he was there as he’d promised, even when it hurt like this. he was there to hold you when you cried into his chest after, promising you that it would be okay and that he would be right there the entire time and when you got back, too.

he was there the next day when you clung on to his hand with a force that could probably break his fingers sooner or later, horrified of entering the building in front of you. he was there to hold you in place when you tried to bolt as soon as they started the admission process, he was there to tell you that he was so proud of you and to promise you that it would be okay. he was there to call you that night, relieved that you were allowed to, and he was there to talk you through all your fears. he was there a week later, when you were first allowed to get visitors, with a rather big teddy bear wearing one of his shirts and a self-made card that read “one week sober!”, small celebratory drawings all over.

“i wanted to bring a cake, but they don’t do that with people that just started. you’ll get one at the one month mark though, pinky promise.” you linked your pinky with his for maybe two seconds before you threw yourself into his arms, clinging on to him as if your life depended on it.

“please take me home. please just take me home”, pleaded into his shoulder repeatedly, like a mantra, and he held you so tight.

“it’s worth it, my strong little angel, it’s okay. i promise.” he was rubbing up and down your back comfortingly, continuously saying how proud he was until you let go just enough to look into his face and see the warmth in his eyes.

“you’re going to stay right here until they kick you out”, you ordered, though what you were actually doing was begging him to please not leave you alone until he had to. you felt like the odd one out here, the only alcoholic still in their twenties, and their early twenties at that. the only other person roughly your age was a guy with an anxiety disorder that looked at you like you were the filth of the earth, and that didn’t exactly make you want to talk to him. you missed mingi, you missed seeing him, and having to watch the other patients be able to go out and meet people outside the therapy times when in your state you’d have to stay until the staff could be certain you weren’t going to relapse only made it worse.

“they’ll have to drag me out by the ears”, he reassured you, and finally you smiled, a genuine smile that made his heart hurt a little less.

“call this one mingi”, pointing to the teddy bear that had been discarded when you’d flung yourself into his arms, “and pretend he’s me. not as good as the real deal, but at least he’s wearing my t-shirt.”

“butthead.” but you looked at him with, as he hoped, the same feelings he had for you, which showed him that he’d chosen a good gift.

he brought you a small gift whenever he came by, and after bothering the nurses continuously (which resulted in them begging the staff in charge of your unit to please let him get his way) he was allowed to bring you food, though only in sealed packages which they checked closely for both the ingredients and even the slightest chance of him having managed to put alcohol in. it was somewhat of a hassle, but the way your expression brightened when he brought you your favourite cereal from when you were 12 and which you’d stopped eating by age 15 because it was ‘for children’ was definitely worth it. things still weren’t easy, especially with how cut off you felt from the outside world, and there had been several nights where you’d screamed at mingi on the phone about how much you hated him for having caused all this and then being cut off by the nurses because your phone time was over before you’d had a chance to tell him that you were sorry for screaming like this, but he never got upset with you for that. instead, he texted you an apology to see after dinner, along with telling you how proud he was. and he stayed, as he’d promised you.

your one month of sobriety was the day you were discharged, because you’d been doing surprisingly well and because you’d managed to convince your responsible treatment team that you’d do better if you didn’t feel so alone and cut off, if you had the chance to do things rather than sit in the hospital all day and overthink your situation. you had an outpatient treatment plan and when you’d told mingi about being dismissed he kindly but sternly told you that he’d kick your ass into next monday if you didn’t follow it. and now he was here, picking you up both from the facility and from the ground, twirling you around as soon as you were in his arms. you’d agreed that you’d spend the first few days at his place, so that’s where he brought you now.

the tall male carried the few things you had with you into his flat while you stood next to the car, taking a little while to get used to the thought of being a part of the outside world again. you were glad mingi was there, because while you were so happy to be out it was still scary to know that now it was up to you alone whether you relapsed or not.

you were delighted to see that he’d kept his promise about the one month mark-cake, because while it wasn’t exactly pretty you soon found out that it made up for that in taste, and also because it was so sweet and thoughtful. it seemed like he’d prepared a little party for you, with one of those silly ‘welcome home’ banners hanging in the living room and colourful plastic cups on the table, next to various kinds of juice and soda. you had no idea how, but he’d even managed to organise strawberry soda, something that you hadn’t seen in stores in ages.

“butthead.” you didn’t know how else to react to all this. it was so much, so unnecessarily much that you didn’t know whether to cry with happiness or to smack him because this probably took a lot of time and money. you decided that calling him butthead again would be a good compromise.

“angel”, he grinned at you, entirely unbothered by your (admittedly weak) insult. then his expression turned serious, walking over to stand right next to you with a few long steps before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“i’m so glad you’re back, you know that? i missed you like crazy.”

“i missed you too. don’t let go.”

he wasn’t planning on doing that anyway. he’d be so stupid if he did. and he’d be so stupid if he didn’t tell you how he felt.

“i love you. i love you i love you i love you. now break my nose for being a butthead.”

“be my butthead and i’ll consider leaving your bones intact.” you tried to play it cool, but your heart was beating so hard you feared it would jump out of your chest, and this time you could be 100% sure that it wasn’t withdrawals. it was just mingi, the boy who’d kept his promise to be there, the boy who’d helped you piece yourself back together in some way again. the boy who wanted to be with you even though the way you’d pieced yourself back together was so far from who he’d known before you shattered. it was mingi, the boy whom you loved back.

“so the b in bf stands for butthead? that’s what you’re saying?” he was teasing you, just a little, but it was okay because you could tell he was just nervous and scared that he might have misunderstood you and was trying to mask that through his joke.

“or maybe it stands for big beautiful boyfriend, you decide.”

“i’ll take the boyfriend! i’ll take the boyfriend. please let me be your boyfriend.” looking at you pleadingly, though also somewhat excited, and you knew you’d never let him go again.

“then you’re my big beautiful boyfriend. what am i?” 

you were expecting him to joke, but he didn’t. he was entirely serious when he said: “you’re my world.”

and this seriousness overwhelmed you just a little bit, so that you were left speechless. and he continued.

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. you’re my strong little angel.”

“you’re not supposed to be so sweet, i don’t know how to handle it”, you whined out, but he just smiled down at you, taking in every detail of your face.

“get used to it.” you knew you wouldn’t ever get used to it, you knew you wouldn’t ever get enough of him telling you sweet things like that. maybe you’d get better at reacting over time, though. but since right now you were very much not good at reacting yet, you said something that maybe wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to his sweet-talking you.

“you know i still hate you though, right?” even though your voice gave away that you didn’t, far from.

“makes for a great enemies to lovers storyline”, he teased, smiling down at you with entire galaxies in his eyes.

“just kiss me, butthead.”

it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he did. he kissed you slowly, because you had all the time in the world, thumb tracing all your features while your hands were wrapped around his neck. and while your first kisses had been bitter with alcohol and desperation, this one was sweet with cake and love.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...being a demon and hunting Dean down

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist Dean Winchester Masterlist

Summary: When Dean says he knows you better than anybody, you’re surprised to find out that you may have more of a history with the Winchesters than you can remember...

Warnings: very slight Season 15 *SPOILERS* for like a paragraph; mentions of “need to kill”; slight angst and open-ish ending, but implied TFW 2.0 win

A/N: Written for @wayward-mikaelson​‘s #Daily Imagine Prompt and (unintentionally) for @winchester-reload​‘s #Suptober20 day 4 prompt “Brand” (even though I’m working on my actual entry sketches!)  Idk where this came from and it took a weird route. Also, there’s an unintentional...nod? paraphrasing maybe? of dialogue from CA: The Winter Soldier, so credit to the MCU writers for permanently snaking their way into my subconscious because my love for Steve and Bucky apparently knows no bounds.

“If it isn’t the notorious Dean Winchester,” you sneered. “As fun as this little game of cat and mouse has been, you Winchesters are really starting to piss me off.”

They’d been tailing you all across the country and you’d had enough. Sure, you were a demon, but it wasn’t like you set out to hurt anyone. As long as everyone else could mind their own business, you liked to think you were pretty easygoing. 

…aside from a few bloody slip ups here and there but, hey, who was counting?

At least you weren’t one of those crossroad douches in the soul collecting business. You preferred to spend your time topside, having fun and wreaking a little havoc now and again. It had been going just fine until those plaid-wearing pests became obsessed with you. Eventually you’d decided to hunt them down for a change so you could finally get a little peace.

You hadn’t spotted the tall, sasquatch Hunter yet, but you’d caught the green eyed one by surprise and knocked him to his knees. Glaring down at him with a smirk, you kept a firm hold on the pressure point of his shoulder to make sure he stayed right where you wanted him.

“Did the cat catch your tongue? Because, with all of our showdowns lately, I was expecting a little more of that quick wit you always seem to have stowed away.”

If you were being honest, he was a pretty fine piece of ass and you wouldn’t mind going a round or two with him under different circumstances. Even with the dopey look of intensity on his face, laced with...something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Distress? Of course it would make sense for him to feel that way--you were a demon after all. Was there a hint of longing in the way he was staring at you? Maybe he couldn’t help thinking you were attractive despite what you were.

Who cares? You practically growled at yourself, chasing away something nagging in the back of your mind that told you there was more to his reaction. Pretending you didn’t actually care because you were incapable of such feelings anymore.

“D’you remember me?” he asked, eyes darting back and forth between yours.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. And it was really hard not to get caught up in his eyes. Why did that piss you off so much?

“Of course I do. You two meatheads have been on my ass everywhere across this godforsaken world,” you spat. “I know we’ve had a grand ol’ time and all, but listen up because I’m only going to say this once-- Leave. Me. Alone. If I catch you two on my tail again, I won’t be such a ray of fucking sunshine.”

He studied you for a long moment, seemingly unfazed by your threat.

“What do you remember about becoming a demon?”

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question. “What does that have to do with anything? And why the hell would it matter to you?”

“Because it does. Now I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you don’t remember a whole lot about what happened to you. That there’s some gaps you just can’t seem to fill in.”

“And let me guess--you just happen to have all the answers to that because you know me so well?”

“I do. I know you better than anybody.”

You weren’t sure what game he was trying to play or how he could possibly know how disconcerting it was that you couldn’t recall a damn thing before the last month or two. Your life as a human, your time in hell-- you didn’t have the slightest idea who you were or what had happened to you.

But there was no way you were going to listen to some Winchester--even if your gut told you he was telling the truth.

“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, seething with defiance.

“You know me--”

“No I don’t,” you snarled, unsure why his words were making you feel so unsettled.

“Your name is Y/N L/N. You’ve known me and Sammy your whole life. You--ngh--”

He flinched and groaned in pain when you tightened your grip, digging your thumb into the hollow area just below the crook of his neck and above his collarbone. With your other hand, you withdrew a large blade from the side holster you’d crafted yourself.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had enough of the foreplay.”

Dean threw a sidelong glance at the weapon. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw and fixed his olive eyes on you again.

“I know you’ve been bouncing around looking for answers on that blade. Just like I know that underneath that jacket of yours you’ve got a mark on your arm. And I know from the small trail of bodies you’ve been leaving behind that you’re trying to fight that hunger you have to kill anything and everything around you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice quivered between your gritted teeth.

“It’s called the Mark of Cain. And that right there is the First Blade.” He nodded toward the weapon without a trace of deceit on his face. “I know the calm you feel when you’ve got the blade in your hand. And that power flowing through you? It scares the hell out of you.”

You grimaced, placing the antique blade against his throat as your chest began to heave from the growing rage pulsing through your veins. What gave him the right to pretend he knew a damn thing about you? 

Maybe he was right. Maybe you could admit the power did scare you sometimes. You didn’t exactly give a shit about right and wrong, but the overwhelming urge to kill left you feeling out of control. It was why you were trying to uncover answers about the brand on your arm. Why you were fighting a losing battle with the trembling hand gripping the blade now-- you wanted answers and you needed him to keep talking.

“How do you know all of this?” you demanded.

He swallowed uncomfortably and the blade bobbed against his Adam’s apple. “It was Chuck--uh, God. You’re a Hunter, Y/N. You, me, Sam, Cas, Jack--we’re family. Chuck’s trying to end the world and we were working to stop him. On our last run-in with him...we thought he killed you. But it turns out he sent you to some other universe he’d created. In this world I had the Mark and, when I died, I became a demon. In the other world he tossed you into, we think that’s what happened to you. ‘Bout a month or two ago, somehow you found your way back to this world and we’ve been trying to track you down ever since.”

Furrowing your brow, your eyes fell away from him as glimpses of the events he’d described flashed through your mind. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to latch onto fragments of the hazy memories emerging from the depths of your subconscious...

Dean screaming your name, face contorted with horror. A small man with graying hair and a wicked grin snapping his fingers. Your hand gripping someone’s forearm, just as his strong hand grasped yours. The deep red energy that flowed from his arm to yours, searing through your veins until the Mark bubbled to the surface of your skin--the scar that was always itching to let the darkest parts of you reign free. 

“We can help, Y/N. Me and Sam can fix this.” Dean’s gruff voice was resolute as he briefly glanced away and begged you to consider his offer. “Just come with us and we can cure you.”

His words stirred something in your chest, making you realize he had triggered the faint prick of some long forgotten emotion. A small part of you longed to go with him, but it was miniscule and insignificant when you considered that “fixing this” might mean getting rid of the Mark. 

Despite the fear and lack of control it brought you, you were unwilling to give up the power or the blade. It was an addiction you had no intention of overcoming.

“Maybe I don’t want to be cured. The way I see it? There’s nothing to fix. Time to say goodnight, Dean-O.”

You raised the blade but, before you could strike, something cinched around your wrist. When the power coursing through you became dull, you turned in surprise to see that Sam had secured your wrist in one end of the cuffs he held. He reached for the blade with his free hand and swiftly dodged you when you lunged at him after releasing your hold on Dean. 

Snarling in rage, you again swung at Sam while he tried to wrestle the blade from your grasp. Dean suddenly collided with your back, circling his arms around you as he pinned your limbs to your sides. You thrashed your head and screamed as you tried to escape, but his cheek was pressed between your shoulder blades, tucked safely away from your efforts of fracturing his nose with the back of your skull.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he grunted, arms tense as he squeezed you tighter. “We’re gonna fix this. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

“Dean, I still...can’t...she’s too strong,” Sam grumbled.

You continued struggling while you gripped the blade with every bit of strength you had. As you fought the boys, you spotted a young man in a tan jacket walking toward you who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked vaguely familiar and you surged toward him out of instinct, knowing he was a greater threat than the men holding you.

His hair was side swept, with a few of the sandy colored strands grazing his forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together over soft eyes, brimming with an array of emotions. The boy raised his hand in greeting, smiling in relief as if he’d managed to find a long lost family member. 

“Hello, Y/N... We’re going to help you. I promise. Sam and Dean will find a way to fix this.”

“Do it, Jack!”

“Any time now, kid.”

The boys shouted in unison and you paused for a fraction of a second as another series of memories flooded you. Before you could make sense of them, Jack reached out and pressed two fingers to your forehead.

Your knees buckled and your eyes fluttered closed as you slipped into unconsciousness.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

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[juyeoniemyhoney]

things she’ll never know

When you love someone, the most important thing that you should not do is introduce them to their crush and help them get along. Yoongi knows this because he has learned the hard way. Because truly, introducing you to Jungkook has got to be his biggest mistake ever and once things for you and Jungkook start to escalate into more than a friendship, Yoongi knows he fucked up. 

-pairing: min yoongi x reader (feat. jungkook)

-genre: angst yo 

-warnings: none really, this may be a little stupid

-word count: 2408 words

-A/N: what upppp. back with a little yoongi angst. i hope you guys like it! don’t be shy to request some ideas you’d like me to write! i like live to please people and coming up with plots or scenarios are like super hard for me for some reason. also don’t be afraid to tell me your thoughts on this one! it really, really helps me to improve and write better! 

--------

It is without a doubt that everything you do has no reason. Like literally everything you are pursuing has in some way or another been forced onto you. You did not sign up for school, no. Your mother had just dressed you up in a school uniform one day when you were six and left you in a school full of strangers and other tiny people. So naturally, after being forced into things your whole life, you have developed a hate for almost everything. 

But nothing you have gone through can quite prepare you for the shit that you have to endure today. 

Today, instead of having an engaging discussion about life during homeroom like you usually do, your classmates are scattered around the classroom, cleaning every single nook and cranny until it is basically shining. All the while, the teacher screams at a group of friends who childishly throw rubbish and spray water at each other as a means to make this laborious task at least a little bit more fun than it actually is. 

After every semester, your school deems it necessary for the students to conduct a “spring cleaning” activity. As a result, your fun homeroom sessions are replaced with an hour of cleaning; beneficial for the janitors who work at your school, but nonetheless a drab and boring activity. 

“This is so boring,” you sigh, verbalising your thoughts to Yoongi, who is silently wiping a window pane beside you. Yoongi remains silent and just nods, lips set in a firm line but expression gentle. At his silent response, you cannot help but allow a smile to bloom on your lips at his extremely Yoongi-esque answer. 

Yoongi, your best friend, is an attractive, raven haired boy of little words. He has been by your side for as long as you can remember; since you had moved in beside him. He had come up to you, shy, tiny and chubby, asking you to help him tie his shoelaces. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable and you basically tell him everything. And because Yoongi is such a good friend, the moment you told him that you found Jungkook, a fellow classmate, attractive, Yoongi had taken it upon himself to — unlike his introverted nature — befriend him. 

Which brings us to today, almost a year after Jungkook was included into your list of friends. The three of you had grown quite close in the past year. But don’t be mistaken, it took you almost three months to warm up to him, far too shy to even look him in the eyes. But with insistent prompting from Yoongi and an insane amount of coincidental occurrences, obviously articulately orchestrated by Yoongi, you eventually came round and began to talk comfortably with Jungkook. 

“Yoongi,” you call him, reaching up to his sleeve to tug on it gently. The action causes Yoongi’s heart to swell and his chest strains painfully with the inability to house the sheer amount of adoration he feels for you. Yoongi hums in response, too lost at the sight of you to process words.

“Make this more fun,” you command, frown drawing your brows together, lips turned down at the corners in a pout. Yoongi’s heart falters at the sight. 

Years ago, when you and Yoongi were four years old, only a few days after he met you, he already knew that he was going to marry you. You had run up to him in the playground, attacking him with a bear hug, surprising him by muttering a soft and shy, I love you as you tucked your face into his neck. Yoongi has never been the same since.

That moment has been replaying itself in his head, a constant reminder that his immediate thought after you had embraced him was that he never wanted you to let go. He has only fallen harder for you since; for your magnetic personality and your laugh and your smile that seems to shine so brightly that it is as if the sun had decided to bury itself in your very being. 

His unadulterated attraction to even just the thought of you only seemed to strengthen that fateful night, consisting of powerful torrents of rain and a sole umbrella. That night, (despite being under the legal drinking age) you were drunk out of your mind, arm slung around Yoongi’s shoulder and legs tripping over each other clumsily. The two of you had awkwardly, yet silently, stumbled into your room, Yoongi groaning with exertion and exhaustion after having to haul you all the way back to your house from the party that celebrated your school’s volleyball team’s win. As soon as your head had hit your pillow, lightning flashed as if the sky was snapping a picture of that moment, granting Yoongi sight of you. Love surged through him at the sight, your eyes barely open and glazed over in exhaustion. 

“It’s raining,” you had observed from the window behind Yoongi. Yoongi, too distracted by the look of pure merriment swirling in your brown eyes that shone like the moon, could only a whisper an aloof answer. You’ve always liked rain. 

He was spiralling down a tangent of doubtful supposition, trying to decide if he should just kiss you right then and there, if it would still ruin your friendship even if there was a high possibility that the whole night would excuse itself from your memory in the morning. Yoongi immediately dispelled the horrifying thought from his brain, barely registering that you had gotten up and had started to rummage about your things. 

“You should take this umbrella,” you slurred, turning back around to look at Yoongi. You stumbled clumsily towards him, as if you were a baby learning to walk. Just as you were about to hand Yoongi the umbrella, a wire had caught your foot, pulling taut and tripping you. You had stumbled forward in an attempt to find your balance, but once you realised that it would not be possible, you had tried to catch yourself on Yoongi instead, but your lack of sobriety had also meant the deduction of your depth perception, causing you to completely miss his shoulders. 

All too suddenly, Yoongi found himself on your bed, on his back, tasting alcohol on your lips. Yoongi’s brain had ceased regular function at that point and instead of pulling away, instead of pushing you off him, instead of something, he found himself kissing you. And for the shortest of seconds, you were kissing him back. He seemed to have fallen from reality and landed in an alternate universe; where you are his, and you are okay with being his. Your lips felt surreal and warm, so, so warm and he didn’t want to ever stop kissing you. But then Yoongi felt your tongue at the seam of his lips, and he was dragged out of his trance by the ankles and jolting away from you as if you were a live wire. 

“Why...?” you had questioned, earnest eyes gazing down at him, searching for eye contact but Yoongi had refused it, eyes landing on everything except yours. And too fast for Yoongi to even process himself, he was snatching the umbrella from your hands, pushing you off him as gently as he could in his haste, and practically sprinting out of your bedroom, in search of refuge that only his own could offer.

When Yoongi thinks back to that incident, he always beats himself up for dashing out of there before ensuring that you were okay first. He had let his feelings control him and didn’t even stop to think that he should have probably sobered you up first before leaving. But it is far too late to regret and that incident now serves as one of Yoongi’s milestones, the one that had caused his feelings for you to grow exponentially, the kiss that you cannot even remember. 

“How about we play tag? If I touch you with this rag, I win. If you manage to evade me for the rest of the period, you win. Winner gets a whole tub of ice cream,” Yoongi suggests, finally snapping out of his trance. 

“That hardly seems far,” you complain with a slap to his bicep. It causes Yoongi to flinch and you let out a melodious chuckle at his reaction. Yoongi’s heart dances to the tune. 

“Fine then, be bored,” is Yoongi’s snarky reply. He lets out a sigh in faux disappointment and turns back to the window to continue his interrupted wiping. Though, his expression immediately brightens when you protest to your teasing gone wrong. Flowers bloom in Yoongi’s chest and he feels a strong urge to hug you; to wrap you up in his arms, hidden away from the world in his warmth. Yoongi has to quite literally hold himself back to not act on the urge.

And so begins the game of tag. If Yoongi were to be entirely honest, he hates physical activity, of every and any sort. Which is why he has no idea why he had suggested to play tag in the first place. If he were to be even more honest, even if he hates running, he is sure that if he were playing seriously, the game would end in the matter of seconds. So, he chases you with restraint and pretends to take breaks in between the chasing. And if he ever came close to tagging you, he would shorten his reach so that the rag would miss you by a hair. It is just, Yoongi is high on the sound of your mirthful giggling, not wanting it to stop for even just a second. Not when the sound makes him so happy that he feels as if his whole body is levitating. 

Yoongi chases you all around the classroom, the two of you blatantly ignoring your teacher’s nagging. As the period comes to an end, Yoongi quickens his speed, just refusing to lose to you after realising how much you would tease him if he did. Now at the front of the classroom, Yoongi finds himself far behind you, struggling to catch up. 

Everything that happens next seems to happen in slow-motion for Yoongi.

As you glance over your shoulder to gauge where Yoongi is, you accidentally ram into someone. More specifically, you run right into Jungkook. You let out a surprised squeal when your head hits his chest and Jungkook wraps his arms around you in instinct, letting out his own sound of surprise. Yoongi’s heart, at the sight, sinks right into his gut, as if it were in quicksand. Jungkook’s expression of surprise morphs into an endearing smile and he relaxes and hugs you comfortably, arms around your shoulders and chin resting gingerly on top of your head. 

Jungkook’s scent and warmth send you into a state of delirium. Your cheeks burn red in embarrassment when he starts stroking your hair, gently combing his fingers through the thick locks. Your classmates do not care, in fact you do not think they even notice the intimate moment the two fo you are having now. It is as if the world has vanished and it is just you and Jungkook, and no one else to disturb you. In Jungkook’s arms, everything feels right, like not a thing in the world is wrong, and maybe, it is here, in his arms, that you belong. As cringe-worthy as it sounds, your ears tune out all of your surroundings and only seem to be able to focus on the rhythmic beating of Jungkook’s heart. And when your arms come up around him to circle around his waist, the pace of his heart increases and you finally know that you are not the only one who is feeling things. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, is absolutely livid, irises flaring red as he looks at the two of you hugging so dearly, so natural that it is as if you two have been hugging for years. One side of Yoongi, the selfish side, wants to rip you from Jungkook’s arms and claim you as his, as if he is the hound of hades, guarding the gates of the world the two of you have built together, preventing Jungkook from ever entering your world and snatching you away. But the other side of Yoongi, the one that grounds himself to reality should his love for you cause him to do utterly idiotic things, tells him to come to terms with the fact that you will never be involved with him romantically, tells him to just let you go, tells him to deal with his own idiotic actions. Because truly, introducing you to Jungkook is, and will forever be his biggest regret. But at the same time, how could he not? When you had gazed up at him with mirth-filled eyes, smile shining brighter than any star to exist in the cosmos. How could he not when he could basically feel your voice worm its way into his chest, festering something so captivating that he could not help but do something, anything to hear that tone in your voice again and feel the flowers bloom in his heart, a sweet, summer warmth melting him like candle wax. How could he rob you, the one person he has loved with all his heart, mind and soul of your happiness?

The answer is that he cannot. 

So, instead of socking Jungkook in the face, instead of tearing you from Jungkook’s arms and kissing you with passionate ferocity, Yoongi circles your hugging bodies so that you can see him, gently tapping you to get your attention. Your head pops out from Jungkook’s chest and you look at Yoongi over his shoulder. When your eyes lock, your arms still around Jungkook and Jungkook’s arms still around you, he whispers as softly as he can so that you cannot hear the cracking of his heart in his voice. And despite the excruciating amount of pain he is feeling in this moment, Yoongi manages to proffer you a small smile. 

“You win.”

His words refer to a plethora of things; his heart, his life, this one-sided game he has been playing. And then, before you can question anything, he leaves you to deliberate what on earth those two words should signify other than that game of tag that just decided Yoongi’s and your destiny. 

Because did you actually win or did you just lose everything?

[ruzek-halstead]

plus one

part three

pairing: jay halstead x hailey upton

hailey is invited to her exes wedding and there is no way in hell she’s showing up solo. luckily, jay is eager to show off how successful he’s become. unfortunately, hailey spitefully tells everyone he’s her boyfriend, so there’s that.

"i mean, he’s clearly a dumbass if he invited you and just ‘forgot’ about your temper.”

(alternate universe/fake relationship bc i’m a sucker for these)

part one || part two || masterlist

warnings: swearing, fluffery, hailey upton’s badassery

all it takes is one look at luke's face and jay's spine straightens and he immediately flinches away from hailey's touch.

this isn't what he wants. it is what he wants; he wants to kiss her and he's wanted that for as long as he can remember, but not like this. not at her ex-boyfriend's wedding, while the said ex-boyfriend glares daggers.

jay sighs when he sees the flash of hurt in her eyes and his chest constricts. it was almost like he could feel the physical pain he was causing her and it sucked.

"i—i should get another drink," she stammers, doing her best to avoid his eyes.

hailey turns on her heels and makes a beeline for the bar. she bumps into adam on her way, but hardly even notices.

"what the hell?" adam frowns, when he reaches jay. "did luke do something again? i swear to g—"

jay shakes his head. "no, it was me."

"dude, what?" adam exclaims, his eyes mirroring his disappointment. "she looked really upset."

jay rubs a hand over his face and drops back into his chair. "fuck. i fucked it all up."

"what did you do?" adam asks curiously.

"i think we had a moment," jay mutters, his hands still covering his face. "and i don't know, she looked at me and i think she wanted me to kiss her. and it felt right," he can't stop talking now that he's started. "but then i saw luke right behind her and he looked pissed and i just couldn't."

adam shakes his head, snickering. "how does he manage to ruin everyone else's day on what's supposed to be the happiest day of his life?"

"and it's his wedding, right?" jay adds nervously; his eyes are searching for hailey but he can't spot her. "i shouldn't do anything dickish? like go for his ex?"

adam smirks, clapping jay on the back. "bro, fuck that. i swear, if you don't get your shit together and go find her right now, i'm going to punch you in the throat."

jay's eyes widen slightly. "dude, it's his wedding day."

"exactly, his wedding. which means he married someone else and he shouldn't be doing that unless he's completely over hailey," adam explains, shooting luke a nasty side eye. "and hailey is not just his ex, she's so much more than that, you know that. she's our best friend and she deserves happiness more than anyone i've ever known."

jay cracks a smile, "damn, ruzek. keep talking like that and i'm going to shed a tear."

adam rolls his eyes. "shut up and go find hailey, or else i actually will punch you in the throat."

"couldn't even if you tr—" jay is not proud of the violent flinch he displays as adam's fist nears his face, and how he nearly trips over his own feet trying to get away. he sees adam laugh and stop to talk to another member of their graduating class.

jay is halfway to the bar, but he still doesn't spot hailey. not that it matters because he is quickly intercepted by the groom.

"oh, for the love of god," jay mutters. "do you not have guests to greet or something?"

luke smirks at him. "all in due time, jay."

"what the hell does that even mean?" jay replies, looking around for any reinforcements; unfortunately, no one is available. "also, where's your wife? shouldn't you be with her?"

luke frowns slightly. "i have the rest of my life to be with her."

"oh, what a great attitude to have a happy marriage. freaking fantastic," jay mumbles sarcastically. "anyway, i was just on my way to the bar, so if you don't mind…"

"i do mind, actually," luke replies and jay considers the multiple ways he can incapacitate him without getting in trouble with the law. "i'm just having trouble understand how you and hailey got together."

jay tried to hold his tongue for the sake that it's his wedding, but he can't any longer; the sass has been unleashed. "are you having trouble comprehending the fact that she got over your dumb ass?"

however, luke doesn't seem phased. "no jay, you're understanding this wrong," he is still smirking and jay has never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. "trust me, i'm looking out for you. i don't think you're understanding what a piece of work hailey is."

jay's eyes narrow, because he can't understand if luke is just that stupid or wants to earn a black eye on his wedding day. "are you forgetting that i've been friends for hailey for years? like i truly don't understand what you're trying to do right now."

"being her friend is not the same as being in a committed relationship," luke remarks and his smirk suddenly drops. "although, i'm not sure how much you would know about that. you were a regular in the friend zone."

jay clenches his teeth together so he can think of an appropriate response and get the hell out of luke's presence. "thanks so much for your concern, but i'm fine. and hailey's happy, which is more than she can say for the time she spent with you. so please, go find your wife and treat her better than you did hailey."

hailey cannot get out of there fast enough. the abrupt change in jay's face and body language hit her straight in the chest and she can't even breathe. she hadn't thought she was reading the mood wrong, but apparently, she was way off. jay looked uncomfortable, and she is just absolutely mortified.

"i—i should get another drink," she mumbles and turns away quickly. she bumps into someone on her way to the bar but she keeps walking. she doesn't want to risk looking at anyone for fear that she'll start crying right there and then.

she almost laughs. how is she crying, again?

hailey decides the bar is definitely not the place for her to be right now and turns to go to the washrooms instead. the one thing actually working in her favour today is that it's empty and she can wallow in peace.

however, that is short lived too.

"hey, hails, there you are!" she knows it's was kim's voice before she even sees her. "i was wondering where you'd gone off t—" kim stops abruptly as she sees hailey hastily wiping away tears from her face. "hailey, what happened?" she is about to rush to her best friend's side but a stony glare overtakes her face. "was it luke? did he do something? i knew i shouldn't of left my knives at home."

kim is halfway out the door of the washrooms, until hailey pleads for her to come back. "no!" she blubbers, way past the point of caring that her voice is cracking. "it wasn't him."

"oh honey," kim frowns, wrapping an arm around her friend. "what happened?"

hailey laughs because it sounds so ridiculous in her head, it's going to sound even worse out loud. "jay and i were having a moment. i thought—i thought he was going to kiss me," she laughs bitterly. "god, i'm an idiot."

"what? no, you're definitely not the idiot here."

hailey wipes the last of her tears away; she's literally cried more today than she had in the past two years. "i don't know why i was thinking anything was there. it's been years; if something was supposed to happen, it would have already."

"are you kidding me, hailey?" kim demands in a tone that has hailey looking at her in shock and silence. "god, for people as smart as you two, i don't understand how you guys are so dumb."

hailey is still looking at her, as if she has two heads. "what?"

"jay has been in love with you since i can remember!" kim exclaims exasperatedly, as if this is common knowledge. "he looks at you like you're his whole world and seriously, i don't understand how it's been so long and you two still aren't together. adam and i are honestly exhausted of scheming against you two."

hailey furrows her eyebrows. "what?" she finds herself saying, again.

"god, i swear hailey," kim mumbles, shooting her a murderous glare. "none of this matters. what matters is that we're at your ex-boyfriend's wedding, who inconveniently has been paying a lot of attention to you. of course jay doesn't want to make a move on you now, not when luke is constantly over your shoulder!"

hailey blinks.

"shit."

"shit is right," kim grins, looking extremely self-satisfied. "now, let's go. you really need to talk to him and i really need a drink."

hailey nods numbly and allows kim to pull her out of the bathroom. "what do i say?" she asks in a panic. it's one thing thinking of this all in your head but having to actually articulate the words to his dumb, adorable face is completely different. he always gives her his full attention and it intimidates her.

"no, no," kim shakes her head, "i'm done. this is all you."

hailey nods, trying and failing to gather some confidence. she's a doctor for god's sake - this is nothing! yet, she still feels like she's going to throw up any second. it definitely doesn't help when she sees luke talking to an individual with their back towards her. and it certainly doesn't help when she realizes that individual is jay.

they are so engrossed in each other, luke doesn't even notice hailey approaching. "being her friend is not the same as being in a committed relationship. although, i'm not sure how much you would know about that. you were a regular in the friend zone."

hailey's jaw drops and she knows this is the final straw. fortunately, jay beats her to it.

"thanks so much for your concern, but i'm fine. and hailey's happy, which is more than she can say for the time she spent with you. so please, go find your wife and treat her better than you did hailey."

hailey's chest fills with affection for this man she should have given a chance ages ago. she knows, without a doubt, she loves him, and she has for longer than she cares to admit.

"alright," kim snaps, making both men turn around. jay has his jaw clenched but his eyes soften when he saw hailey; luke looks surprised, but keeps his eyes on kim. "this has gone on way too long and frankly, i'm pissed."

"i—" luke starts, but kim cuts him off.

"do not interrupt me! this is your wedding day, what the hell are you doing over here?" she asks in an accusatory tone, hands on her hips. "you and hailey didn't work out, and you have no right to get involved in her life now."

luke seems at a loss for words; there is nothing he could say. he takes one more final look at hailey and turns to make his way to the bar.

"god, finally," kim flipped her brown curls over her shoulder. "now, it's time for you two to have a talk." with that, she stalks off.

hailey can only hope she leaves to confess her love for adam because this confident, take charge attitude she has is really working for her.

jay grabs hailey's hand and leads her off to the side. "i'm so sorry, hails."

"god, don't be sorry," hailey shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "it all makes sense now. it's my freaking ex's wedding, i'm sorry."

jay grins. "i tried so hard to be nice to him, i really did."

"jay, i don't want to talk about him anymore," she says slowly.

"well, we could talk about that," his smile widens as he points across the room, to where kim and adam are sharing a sweet kiss.

hailey smiles wide as the couple separates and glances in their direction. kim looks sheepish but adan is ecstatic. as hailey turns back to jay, he's giving adam the thumbs up.

"i don't want you to be my fake boyfriend anymore," hailey blurts out and she cringes. out of all the ways to phrase it, she has to say that?

jay's eyes look confused, "um, okay? i figured we were done playing pretend anyway, you know, considering…"

"no, that's not what i meant," hailey shakes her head and now she looks sheepish. "i want you," she whispers quietly; he moves closer. "you've been with me through every milestone, every important moment in my life. and the truth is, i love you," she is preparing for the worst but all she sees is his smile widen. "i've felt something for you since junior year but i've never felt something so intense; i didn't know what it was. but it's love and i love you, jay."

jay surges forward, capturing her face between his hands. this time, his eyes don't stray; he is completely and utterly consumed by her, and he kisses her. it's soft and slow and not nearly enough, but they have all the time in the world.

jay doesn't get the chance to say he loves her back, but she knows. it's in his eyes and in the way he holds her close to him.

adam and kim make their way over with gleeful smiles and glasses of champagne. "i think today deserves a toast," adam says, handing jay and hailey a glass.

"here's to our next chapter together," kim cheers, clinking her glass with the rest. for as long as she can remember, it has always been the four of them. they always defended each other, took care of each other, graduated together and moved away together. she can't imagine a greater group of friends than the ones she was blessed with, and this next chapter would only bring them closer together; it's how it should have always been. "god, i love you guys," she whispers, her eyes slightly watery as they cheer and huddle for a group hug.

this is a bit too emotional for their usual so it doesn't surprise anyone when jay makes his next comment.

"can you guys believe hailey used to date the groom? talk about an upgrade."

they all groan, but they can't deny it's the best damn wedding they've ever been to.

that is, until their own weddings, of course.

[consumedkings-archive]

ancient names, part x

ancient names, pt. x

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt x: how large the teeth

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~7.2k (yes I am a clown)

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Gore/violence, forced used of psychotropic drugs to induce hallucinations, spooky scaries (hi October!), implications of sexual assault though nothing specific, and uhhhhhhh liberal use of a shotgun. And you know, the usual things that come with Far Cry 5. Also, proofreader? I hardly know her.

Notes: So this chapter took quite a while to get around (thank you, writer's block), but it's here! And a spooky update, just in time for October, too! Yes, Elliot is hallucinating basically this entire chapter. What's real?? What isn't??? The world may never know.

I pulled a lot of inspiration from a LOT of medias/myths, so if you think you know what it is I would LOVE to hear from you and see if any of it comes through in my writing the way I want it to!

Special thanks to my lovely @starcrier, who has been a true homie throughout my wrestling with this chapter, and all of the lovelies here on tumblr and on AO3 who have sent in their feedback, chatted with me, and just all in all provided me with the support and inspiration I really needed to get this chapter done! I probably sound like a broken record by now, but the fact that I have managed to write this many chapters at all after finishing my first chaptered fic in a VERY long time just a few months ago is insane to me and certainly would not have happened without y'all.

Okay, sappy notes over. Enjoy! Thank y'all so much again!

She is twenty-four, and she cries under the tent of blankets that Joey has made for them.

It feels like she is seventeen, again, in a little fort that they make, but there are key differences: they are in Elliot’s apartment in the city, and Joey’s face is somber, and in the dark Elliot can feel the guttural, gut-wrenching grief sounds shaking her down to her skeleton.

Blanket tents were never for crying in, before. They were never a place to say, between gasping breaths, that she didn’t know why she let a man that she trusted touch her even when she didn’t want him to. How can she? If someone has never experienced the paralyzing fear of being completely out of control, of being helpless, how could it ever make sense?

Elliot knows that it doesn’t. She knows that Joey doesn’t understand completely, not really, and that it hurts her feelings that Elliot flinches when she moves too quickly, and that it stings to say the name of the man she had been dating—that his name tastes sour, like a venom, on her tongue now—and that when Joey tells her that she needs to tell someone what he did, it draws a noise of agony out of her not unlike the way an animal trapped sounds.

She does not sleep that night, or the next night, or the next, and finally when she is tired enough to be worn down she goes to a therapist. She has to, Joey says, or she will never get a job working with the law in Hope County, and Elliot knows she’s right so she does.

There are a lot of things that the therapist says. Trauma hits her the hardest. It blinks, a neon sign above her head, assigned to her so that all will know: that she is Trauma, that she has it, that it sits in her bones and makes a home out of her. Is that all I will ever be? She wonders. Trauma? Is that all that I have, now?

Each day is a series of motions, one after the other: waking up, getting up, standing and walking and breathing and existing, all the time. Each of those motions exhausts her. She files a restraining order; she goes to therapy; she takes the sleep medication but that is all she wants to take because otherwise she will feel too much unlike herself. She finishes her training with a clean bill of health from the doctor and her therapist and she packs her apartment, which hurts worse than maybe anything else, because each book and blanket and trinket packed away is a constant reminder of the person who had been there, who had stolen her safety from her in the very place that she was supposed to always feel safe.

But Hope County is waiting for her, and that is what she will take comfort in: that there is always a place for her, there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was the worst-case scenario. In any other universe, in any other life, she would not have let herself be convinced to approach an enemy unarmed. Not even John’s flippant confidence that she could make a weapon out of anything instilled in her the idea that things would be alright, in the end.

That had been the only thought that could keep her going. Once I get Joey and get the hell out of Dodge, everything will be okay, her brain would say. Get Joey, get out. That’s all there is to it.

But that wasn’t all there was to it, anymore, and she knew that; she knew it while her heart hammered in her chest, while her skin itched and burned where the redhead had touched her like he was dripping in acid, while the blood rushed through her head in a violent tidal wave that made her feel like she was going to puke. They had stuffed a wet cloth into her mouth and hauled her away, out of sight of the Seeds, and now she sat—alone, tied, the cloth spit out onto the floor of the cabin they had left her in.

She was somehow both unaware of how much time was actually passing and fully confident that it had only been a half an hour; if she moved her head too fast (which was to say, at all) the world wobbled and swam around her. Elliot finally relented to burying her face into her knees and closing her eyes to try and stop the swimming nausea.

The door clicked open. She saw Ase, first, and behind her loomed the redhead. The woman was taller up close than Elliot would have thought—probably bridging five foot ten—which made the redhead much taller than she had thought, too.

I could kill her, she thought furiously, through the strange haze that had fallen over her. If I got my hands on her, I could.

“Hello, mor,” Ase said. Elliot saw the warmth blooming in her voice, like an aura welling up out of her, red and searing; the realization that they had certainly dipped the cloth in something that would ultimately be worse than just dying-by-chemical-ingestion hit her hard, sending her heart fluttering in a panic. It was the same brand of panic she had felt when John had found her in the field; wildly out of her control, as if she were being puppeted by something else, something larger than her.

The redhead closed the door behind them, and Ase closed what little distance that remained between the two of them, crouching in front of her. Elliot tried her best to muddle through the panic and muster up some hostility, but it was hard, when it felt like the floor was both sturdy and melting underneath her.

“Fuck you,” Elliot managed out, her mouth feeling like it was full of cotton balls. It didn’t seem as though her words had any effect on the blonde, and for a second she panicked, wondering if she had even said anything at all in the first place or if it had just been in her imagination.

“You left Kian with a few nasty bites, didn’t you?” Ase asked, her voice welling with amusement. “I did not want to stuff a tea-soaked washcloth into your mouth, but we couldn’t have you drawing any more blood.”

Elliot’s gaze slid to the redhead—Kian, she thought venomously—and the movement of her eyeballs felt like they were hitching unsteadily in her skull. So they had drugged her, again. What the fuck was it with cults and drugging people?

The woman reached for her, and instinctively, Elliot flinched. The gesture came a few seconds too late; the drug in her system, whatever it was they had soaked the cloth in, was already starting to wear her down.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Elliot said, as Ase untied the rope around her feet and then her hands, “if you want me to stop biting people.”

“I am not worried,” Ase replied sweetly. “You’re already looking more docile by the minute, mor.”

Elliot swallowed thickly; to do so took concentrated effort. “That isn’t my name.”

“It isn’t a name at all,” the blonde agreed unhelpfully, tossing the ropes to the side and coming to a stand. She smoothed her hands across the dark fabric of her dress, and then extended a long, elegant hand. “Now, do you want to see your friend?”

She felt her heart stutter painfully in her chest at the woman’s words. After having been tricked and toyed with by John, it was strange to think she was finally in the home stretch that she had been trying to reach these last few days; that finally, finally, all of her toil and trouble was bringing her back to Joey.

Briefly, the idea that she could take Joey and run--leave the Seeds to their own devices--fluttered through her brain. Leave the Seeds to clean up this mess on their own. Hopefully, the Resistance had already bolted out of Hope County and were well on their way elsewhere. If she grabbed Joey and got out--if she could get in touch with law enforcement outside of Hope County--

Elliot stared at the Swede's hand and tried to gather her thoughts up in one place. It felt too much like they had become marbles, spilling out of her hands every time she tried to focus. She took a breath and then forced herself to a stand, blatantly ignoring Ase's outstretched hand. Just the act of using her legs to stand felt a little like being on stilts; the world lurched and ground to a watery stop around her, and only confirmed, infuriatingly, what Ase had said--that she was in no shape to bolt, or fight for that matter.

"Come along, then," Ase said pleasantly, taking a few steps away from her. Those few steps made it look as though the ground stretched out for miles between them, and her stomach twisted. The blonde looked at her over her shoulder and smiled.

"Kian, help our friend," she murmured. The redhead stepped forward and reached for her, ever obedient to his master, and Elliot immediately gritted her teeth and took an unsteady step backward.

"Kian, don’t," she bit out, mimicking Ase’s honeyed tone as much as she could. And then, less sweet: "If you touch me again, you'll walk away with a lot more than a bite mark, fuckhead."

Kian flashed a smile that felt like a snake against her skin and gestured for her to go on ahead. "Go on, then."

Just being in his proximity again made her skin crawl; it felt still like his hand was around her throat, the heat of his breath against the shell of her ear. Even in the dizzying haze that had settled over her, she felt her heart leap uneasily into her throat at the memory.

Before she realized what was happening, Elliot's feet had carried her out around Kian and out of the cabin, trailing the beacon that Ase had become, a strange green aura undulating around her. I hate this, she thought, watching the way the trees around her shifted and bled into the night sky.

"How—how long was I in there?" She asked, falling into an uneasy pace next to Ase.

"A few hours," she replied, looking over at her. "Felt shorter?"

Yes, Elliot thought, but the word didn't come to her mouth. The ground slid under her feet; the world around her pulsed in time with her breaths, stretching and cinching in equal parts until she found herself standing in front of another of the cabins. In the distance, the sound of the lake water lapping at the shore echoed over and over in her head.

Ase pushed the door to the cabin open, and inside sat Joey Hudson.

She looked tired, days of exhaustion sitting heavy on her face, a dark shadow of sleeplessness and makeup both ringing her eyes. Joey had always been pretty, and now was no exception; the brunette, though her clothes were dirty and her eyes fluttered with tiredness, was just as lovely as she always was. The sight of her had Elliot’s head and heart swimming with emotion, rising up thick and high in her throat until she thought she might come unglued right there, in front of a psychotic woman.

But with the feeling of being on a seesaw unseating her nonstop, and the desperate, aching reminder of the person she had been missing all along, Elliot didn’t think almost anything about Ase. As far as she was concerned, in that moment, the woman ceased to exist; the same choking feeling that she’d felt when Jerome had said, you can tell me if it’s not okay. A relinquishing. A lifting of her burden. You don’t have to Atlas this thing alone.

“Joey,” Elliot said, the woman’s name coming out of her mouth hoarse and heavy. Joey’s eyes fluttered tiredly and she mustered up the closest thing to a smile.

“Hey, El,” Joey replied. As Elliot crossed the space between them and immediately crouched to kneel in front of her, the smile warmed into something more genuine. In an effort of lightness, the brunette said, “You should have called, I would have cleaned up.”

Elliot felt the soft, wrecked little sound, so close to a sob, more than she heard it; it was a choked almost-laugh, her hands fluttering absently as though unsure of where to land. “I tried,” she managed out, as thinking and speaking became harder, her jaw stiff and unyielding. “I tried, Joey—”

Joey nodded and said, “I know.”

“I will leave you,” Ase said lightly from the door, “but, Elliot? You only have a short time before you become fully open to the influence. I would drink some water.”

The blonde turned, leaving and closing the door behind her, leaving just the two of them there. By then, even while the world swam around her, and she thought she could see little sparks of orange light flying off of Joey, she threw her arms around the brunette and hugged her tightly. It took a minute for her to realize that she was crying--happy, relieved tears, the kind that came suddenly and without warning.

“I was so worried about you,” Elliot murmured between sniffles, pulling back and immediately searching for restraints. There were none. Unlike John Seed’s version of Joey’s captivity, no duct tape covered her mouth, nothing bound her hands together; she was just sitting in there—probably knowing well enough that running would have been a worse idea. “I thought John had you, and then he got me, and then he said he’d pawned you off to Faith, and—”

“Slow down,” Joey laughed, the sound not quite reaching deep enough in the cavity of her chest to be a real one. “You have crazy eyes, El.”

“They gave me something,” she explained, pressing the heel of her palm against her eye. “They did it once before, but it was stronger then.”

Joey handed her the bottle of water she had been nursing, uncapping it for her. “They gave it to me too, once,” she replied. “But not again. Maybe I didn’t give them the response they were looking for. Elliot, these people are--there’s something really wrong here. They keep talking about this thing in the woods, asking if I’ve seen it...”

Elliot took a big swallow of the water, shifting on her knees and then taking another. She felt absolutely parched—the water tasted a little funny, but she wasn’t sure if she trusted her own sense of taste right in that moment anyway. “We have to get out,” she said. Whatever the cult believed in or practiced didn’t matter; what mattered was getting the fuck away from them.

She was certain she could hear Ase’s voice just outside. She lowered her voice, trying her hardest to make sure she was whispering, “We were hoping to—I mean, I was hoping to—the plan went wrong, Joey, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But we can still get out.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Joey asked. “Sheriff Whitehorse, and Burke, and…”

Her voice trailed off absently, and Elliot could feel the brunette’s eyes on her. She hesitated, taking Joey’s hands in her own before she replied, “I don’t know.”

“Then who is ���we’? Jerome and the others?”

“No, Jo, it’s--”

The door clicked open behind them, echoing once, twice, three times in Elliot’s head before she turned to see Ase looming in the doorway. Long, dark, the sharp angle of her jawline and the high slope of her cheeks making her look more severe, more beautiful than before.

“It is time for you to see,” she said, her voice light. “You will have time with your friend later.”

“What about Faith?” Elliot asked, struggling to her feet. “I want to see that Faith is okay too. That you haven’t—”

“After,” Ase replied, her voice startlingly ironclad.

“Joey comes with me.” She tried again, tried to force her voice to firmness, to assertion. But Ase only smiled, tranquil now despite the hardness of her voice. She crossed the small space between them, looming in Elliot’s vision--eclipsing all other light, taking away all sense of anything else outside of her.

“She stays,” Ase replied, not unkindly. “This is only for you to see.”

She crossed the distance of the cabin between them and reached for Elliot, taking her hand. The contact made Elliot’s skin buzz. She was so tired--so tired of this stretching and pulling of herself, so tired of the way their drugs made everything somehow more than what she could handle and forced her to handle it anyway.

“Joey—”

Elliot turned back to look at the brunette, reaching for her as Ase pulled her along; Joey had pulled herself to a stand and was trying to follow after them, saying something like, it’s okay, I don’t mind coming, really, more practiced at polite coercion than Elliot was. Before Joey could reach the door after them, Elliot saw the broad, tall form of Kian blocking out the doorway, saying something to Joey in Swedish.

“Hey! Leave her alone, you fuck—”

Ase pulled on her hand, hard, yanking her until she was stumbling after her sleek figure. Out in the night, where the air was chilly with an early-Autumn coldness and Elliot could see her breath floating out of her mouth, she almost felt at peace for a second. Everything was still. Incredibly still, the way the surface of a pond was before a stone landed.

One step at a time, she walked her to the edge of the campground. They broke the treeline, hand-in-hand, until they could see Sacred Skies Lake stretched out below them. Elliot craned her neck to try and see the cabin where they were keeping Joey, but the trees blocked most of her vision of the campground.

“Look, there,” Ase said, interrupting her thoughts. She gestured down at the far treeline. When Elliot turned to look, she saw nothing; only darkness in the still woods. Too still, she thought now—still in the way the forest was when a predator had arrived and all the prey had fled.

The lake rippled below them, and then smoothed out, dark and clear as glass. She tried desperately to see--really see, not just what the drugs were making her see, as though she could brute force her way through the barrage of sensations overwhelming her.

And then: “Hey!”

It was a woman’s voice, thrown from somewhere down by the lake. Elliot felt apprehension crawling across her skin. She didn’t know why it was making her nervous, but she strained to listen for it again all the same.

The voice said again, “Hey, Elli!” and she felt her stomach drop. It was her mother’s voice, the sweet Georgia drawl that her mother had always sported, calling to her from the woods. Calling for her.

“Mama?” Elliot managed out, her voice thick and hoarse and bubbling before it even left her mouth. She felt Ase’s eyes on her, inquisitive, but all she could think about was I have to get her out of here, what is she doing here? Why isn’t she with the others?, so louder this time, she went, “Mama, I’m here!”

She took a step forward. It was Ase’s hand that stopped her, a gentle shake of her head. Elliot looked back at the woman for some kind of answer, but her expression was empty of anything that might have been helpful; on it was only the serene, delicate smile of a woman enthralled.

There was a stretch of silence. Something dark shifted in the trees. Something big, rippling leaves and branches as it moved. 

And then: “Mama?”

It was her voice.

It called, again, “Mama, I’m here?”, and the pitch and timbre felt the same as her own voice, like she’d shouted into an echoed canyon, but it was wrong. It was all wrong. It sounded like something trying her out, feeling out the way she sounded. Practicing.

The air bubbled around her with some kind of emotion. It popped, pulled tight, stretching over her vision like saran wrap, until it hurt to keep her eyes open, until she thought desperately that all she wanted to do was close her eyes—but she couldn’t. She had to stay awake, stay clear, stay conscious. For herself, for Joey and Boomer and for—

(Whether you like it or not, you and I are on the same side.)

It called, from deep in the treeline beyond the lake, again. “I’m here!” The voice pitched and pulled between words, like whatever it was kept trying to get the exact cadence of her words—trying her out, tasting. Sliding beneath her skin.

“What the fuck is that?” Elliot whispered. Ase smiled serenely at her, and gave her hand a squeeze.

“Look harder,” Ase murmured. “You will see It.”

She took a step forward, her heart thundering in her chest, trying to see beyond the utter stillness of the forest. Nothing moved; nothing breathed in time with her, anymore; where the drumbeat of the world had once felt it was intrinsically tied to her, she was now cut off from it, in a cold, dead space somewhere beyond.

Something in the trees shifted again, and rumbled.

“It has been waiting for you,” Ase murmured, coming up behind Elliot. Her voice was silky, warm, spinning a web around and around her until it made her feel—

Safe.

“What has?” Elliot managed out, swallowing thickly.

“We call it the Father,” she said. “It talks to us, when we are open to it. In voices we recognize, in the voices of our loved ones, so that it does not scare us.”

Her hands were on Elliot’s shoulders, gently squeezing, and she thought she was going to throw up. The trees in the distance warped and bent, swallowed up by something big and dark and humming, the vibration of it melting around her thrumming beneath her skin.

“It tells us, Elliot, that the end of the world is here. Your own Eden’s Gate knows it, do they not?” Ase’s voice was more urgent now; Elliot didn’t have time to think about how she said your own Eden’s Gate before she was plunging on. “They know it. The only difference between us and them is that we serve It, that we help to usher it in. Just as we once took, so do we give back to It—life, cyclic and infinite. You know it. You understood the words, in the flowers, didn’t you?”

My heart aches for you.

Be gentle with me.

I come soon.

“You’re fucking crazy,” she said, the words coming out slick with panic, spilling out of her before she could stop them. Her shoulders scrunched up to her jaw to try and brush Ase’s hands off of her. “You’re insane. You—crazy bitch—”

They were John’s words, not her own, but it was all she could muster up; the woman’s face remained light and serene, turning Elliot to look at her now.

“It waits for you,” she insisted, her voice wobbling around Elliot like the reverb of a bass drum. “I told you that you would always come back to us. I knew when I saw your color.” Her gaze swept over Elliot, almost affectionate. “White, in perfect balance.”

“Stop touching me,” Elliot managed out, pushing Ase’s hands weakly off of her. The strange thrumming persisted under her skin, a violent cacophony as she tried to block out the sound of her own voice beckoning her from the woods. Hey! Mama, I’m here! It said, begging her to follow, begging her to investigate.

Breathing became harder. It felt like she was gulping in lungfuls of water, eeking out whatever oxygen she could, but no matter where she looked to try and get Ase out of her mind she only saw dark trees; bending and curling and pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

“Mor,” Ase said, taking Elliot’s face in her hands like a lover would, “Mother, that’s what you are. For us, to us, while we serve It.”

“Fuck you,” she spit out, but her voice cracked instead, the fear welling up inside of her like a tidal wave. “I’ll—”

Ase shook her head. “I told you, it is a cycle,” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. It waits for us all, Elliot, and it will have you. As It gives, so too, does it take.”

She opened her mouth to respond when the loud crack of a gunshot echoed just a few feet away. Ase’s head snapped around viciously, her hand still gripping Elliot’s face with a firm, unforgiving hold; even in the dark, even with the drug wreaking havoc on her system, Elliot recognized the filthy backwater whooping of Peggies.

The flash of headlights through the trees suddenly brought everything back to life, the sound roaring in through Elliot’s head like someone had flicked the mute button back off again.

She turned to look back at the lake. Whatever had been lurking there was gone, now. The sound of feet hitting the dirt, shouted words in a foreign language, and the sweeping realization that they might yet still get out of here sent her heart hammering.

Ase pulled on her, hard, until she was stumbling after her. She craned her neck to try and see if she recognized anyone, to see if she could see one familiar face, but where the gunshots were echoing was already far enough that she could only see the brief flicker of headlights.

The door to the cabin opened. Warm light flooded her vision, splintering behind her eyelids as Ase pushed her inside and said, with a sudden and violent amount of poison, “Stay.”

Everything felt like she was swimming in molasses; each movement harder than the last, each breath taking more and more of her concentration. The door slammed shut. In the time it had taken Elliot to will her venom into existence, Ase had released her hand and swept out of the cabin, leaving her alone with Joey. Through the curtains, she could see dark shapes shifting and melting, one into another, and she took in a stuttering breath.

“Are you okay?” Joey asked immediately, reaching for her. “What did she say? When they did it to me, she kept asking if I could see—but it was just trees, out there, to me. El, look at me.”

“We have to get out,” she said. Her voice was hoarse, cracking with panic. “We have to get the fuck out of here, Joey. These people are—so much worse than Eden’s Gate—”

Voices catapulted in volume outside, tires squealing and doors slamming. All of it felt too loud, even with a wall between herself and the violence—like someone had cracked the volume up to one-hundred and then pulled the knob off.

“What the fuck? Are those Peggies?” Joey whispered, glancing out the window. “I do not want to be in the crossfire of two fucking cults. Elliot, when are the others coming? Where are they?”

Elliot swallowed thickly. As the sounds of cacophony increased outside, reminding her that she had made something like a deal with the devil, she took in a deep breath. She didn’t have time to think about the woods, or whatever it was she thought she’d seen in there, or the way that Ase had gripped her face and said, It waits for you.

“Right,” she said, trying to push those thoughts somewhere far down and out of sight. “So, listen, Joey, about the others, they’re—gone.”

Joey stared at her. “Gone?” she repeated.  Horror started to creep into her tone. “Like—dead—?”

“No, I mean—they’re gone. Or they should be,” she added quickly, heading towards the window to look out, “I told them to evacuate Hope County when I ran into these crazies the first time.”

“Okay,” the brunette began, slowly, “so… before, when you said we and—that you had a plan…”

“Right,” Elliot replied, her head swimming a little. “Yeah, a plan. Remember when I said that John got me—”

Joey shook her head, not because she didn’t remember but because she already saw where this was going. “Elliot—”

“—and then he told me that he pawned you off to Faith, and—well, Joey,” Elliot managed, “there wasn’t any way I was going to lose one iota of a chance of getting you back.”

“Fuck,” Joey groaned, pressing her hands to her eyes. “Fuck, Elliot, please tell me you didn’t—”

“Well, look, Joey—”

Something rattled the door. It struck Elliot with a note of panic that they had been locked in, and she didn’t know if in that moment she felt worse to know that they had closed them in or if it was a comfort, considering the chaos that was probably ensuing outside.

Worse, something in her head said. It always feels worse, to be trapped.

Someone banged on the door three times, and then through it came a blissfully familiar voice: “Elliot? Are you in there?”

Elliot felt a wave of relief wash over her. She never thought she would see the day where hearing John Seed’s voice would bring her relief, let alone comfort: but it did.

She hurried to the door, rattling the doorknob for good measure. “Yes,” she replied quickly, the words coming out a bit hoarse, so she tried again, louder this time: “Yeah, John, I’m in here. Can you break the window?”

“I’ll do you one better. Get back from the door.”

She did as he said, reaching for Joey just mere seconds before she heard a concussive splintering of wood and metal from the other side of the door, which swung open shortly thereafter. She was not wrong to think that the outside was chaos; she could hear it more clearly now, but almost none of it mattered, because John Seed was standing there with a shotgun in his arms.

“You could have just broken the window open,” Elliot managed out, around the complicated mess of feelings welling up inside of her and her tongue feeling two sizes too big in her mouth. “Idiot.”

“That’s a lot of attitude you’re giving your rescuer,” John replied, cocking the shotgun with an affirmative click, click, the plastic shell clattering onto the front porch of the cabin. “What are you standing around for? Let’s get moving, hellcat.”

“I’m not going with him,” Joey bit out venomously. “That psycho kidnapped me and held me hostage!”

“Oh, Hudson, that was so long ago,” John drawled, glancing over his shoulder at the erupting chaos behind him. “Keep up with the times, won’t you? Elliot and I are partners, now.”

It shouldn’t have felt dirty, hearing John Seed say that to Joey—because they were partners, because he didn’t have to come for her if he had Faith already and he did anyway—but it did. It felt traitorous.

“You fuckhead!” Joey snapped. “If any of our friends are dead, it’s your fault!”

“Okay!” Elliot announced, her voice high and panicked. It felt weird to be the middleman, the one demanding that everyone be calm. “Okay, let’s just—everyone shut the fuck up, okay? I am hours into a fucking drug trip and there is no time to debate the moral ethics of teaming up with a cult leader to escape another cult leader!”

Joey’s jaw clenched as she stared at John, her eyes narrowing, Elliot’s hand still firmly gripped in hers. She looked at Elliot for a moment, and then—

“Fine,” she ground out.

“Great,” John replied.

“Awesome,” Elliot said, taking in a deep breath. “Joey, is there any medicine in the cabinet? We should grab it.” She paused, looking at John for a moment, her gaze sweeping over him. He was unmarked. Unscarred. Splattered with blood, but it didn’t bother her—rather, assured her. “Did you—did you get Faith?”

He watched Joey let go of her hand and cross the room to gather up what few things she had—the half-drank water bottle, some pills from the cabinet in the bathroom that may or may not have expired, Elliot thought—and then he said, “First thing. She’s waiting for us down by the lake.”

“Good,” Elliot murmured, nodding and swallowing thickly. For a second, a strange silence stretched between them, and then John took a few steps into the cabin and he reached for her.

“They didn’t hurt you?” he asked, his voice dropping in volume, his fingers brushing her jaw and tilting her face to get a look at her neck where Kian’s fingers had dug into her skin.

She felt her lashes flutter, the feeling of his fingers skimming the still-tender spots sending strange vibrations rattling through her skull. Her skin didn’t crawl the same way it had when Kian had grabbed her, but heat did bloom in her face, and she felt it crawling all the way down her neck. His gaze darted over her face, lingering on her mouth for a heartbeat in their close proximity.

“Stupid,” she muttered, brushing his hand off. “Of course they didn’t. You should be checking on Ase’s little boy-pet.”

John grinned, the expression drenched in something close to pride. “I should have known.”

“Let’s go.” It was Joey’s voice that interrupted, slicing right through the moment, dousing out the flames Elliot felt in her chest. The brunette grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway, out into the cold, black night—a night swelling and vibrating with sound now, no longer ruptured by a stillness that sat like condensation in her lungs but noise, bubbling and sparking in the air like electricity.

Joey stopped, ducking and pulling Elliot back behind the next door cabin when the sound of gunfire pierced through the night. John slipped just ahead of them and said, “Hey, maybe let the guy with the gun go first?”

“Maybe the guy with the gun should be covering our asses instead,” Joey retorted. She pushed the water bottle into Elliot’s free hand and nudged her ahead. “C’mon, get a move on, Elli.”

John glanced back at her, and his expression said, Elli, huh? That’s cute. Elliot glared at him, but there was a lightness in her when she did—it didn’t matter, that infuriating way he cocked his grin at her, like he was equal parts pleased with himself and proud of her ferocity. It didn’t matter, because she could see the hilltop where Ase had shown her the lake, and once they got down they were home free, and John Seed could feel however he wanted to about her.

She had Joey. She would be free to go, and leave the Seeds behind her.

Shouting clipped through the air in the distance, and John glanced back behind them, exhaling through his mouth. No doubt the members of Eden’s Gate that were creating this diversion (and that’s what it was, a diversion) were getting mowed down, obliterated by the organized, methodical killing that the Family was capable of.

Elliot glanced back. Through the gaps in the trees, she could see bodies dropping and crumpling against the ground, pulled and yanked out of trucks that had been driven right up against the clearing. Lambs to the slaughter, she thought hazily, her fingers slipping out of Joey’s hand. What am I, then?

Wherever you go, wherever you run, It will wait for you. 

Someone screamed. She saw the light of it, pinching off of them in sharp, rapid bursts of yellow, swimming through the air until disappearing into the night sky above her where the boughs of the trees stretched impossibly far. Each massacre, each bloody slaughter ending life after life, the residue filtering through the air in ghostly wisps of color.

As It gives, so too, does it take.

“El,” John said, taking a step down the hill, “we have to go.”

“Joey?” she asked. “She--”

“On her way down the hill, already.” He reached for her, hand outstretched, ignoring that she seemed to keep losing time. “Let’s go.”

Elliot paused at the top of the hill; her gaze darted, without much thought, to the treeline—it’s nothing, she thought to herself, I just want to check.

Something lurched in the treeline. Big, breaking and snapping trees, and Elliot felt a breath slip out of her, violently departing her lungs.

“John,” she began, uneasily, “I don’t think I can—”

“You’re fine, El, just keep—”

Joey called something from down below them; irritation flickered across John’s expression, and he turned away from her to take another step down the hill and call back, “Yeah, we’re—just sit tight down there, Hudson…”

Elliot took an unsteady step backward, and just as she did, she felt someone grab her arm.

“Not you,” Ase hissed at her, yanking her hard until she stumbled back from the hillside. There was a frantic, wild energy about her now, infernal, bubbling up out of the calm, polished veneer. “Not you, mor, not this time. You get to stay and see what you’ve done.”

Elliot felt cold earth and pine needles beneath palms, prickling through her jeans as she hit the ground. Her stomach lurched; she thought she was going to throw up, but when she turned around to see Ase stalking towards her, a different kind of nausea welled up in her. For the first time in a long time, Elliot felt real, cold fear in her, searing through her like a venom.

She wanted to call for John, or Joey, or anyone—but her jaw felt like it was wrenched tight, and violent sparks of light were rushing off of Ase right in front of her eyes.

“You’re insane,” she managed out unsteadily, the heat in her voice whipped away by the panic inside of her.

“I told you,” Ase said, taking two steps closer to her, “no matter where you go, you will always—”

Something loud and concussive echoed. Elliot heard flesh and sinew tear until the pressure of something greater; the arterial spray of it peppered her vision, splattering across her face until the world looked like it was doused in red film.

Ase’s expression went slack as she sank to her knees in front of Elliot, and in the dark of the night, Elliot could see the blood splatter of the gaping wound in Ase’s stomach just before she slumped forward. She wasn’t dead, yet—as John took a step forward, cocking the shotgun again, Elliot thought about the way Ase’s stomach had been spilling out of her.

“John?” she asked, feeling very small and very far away. A part of her brain was vaguely aware of the sounds of the firefight echoing in the night, of voices shouting closer to her, but she couldn’t think about any of that. All she could think about is the way John was looking at her, the shotgun propped up and ready to fire again, though he didn’t. Not yet.

Something brushed her hand. Elliot looked back and saw Ase’s glassy eyes, her fingers brushing Elliot’s, reaching for her. Blood dripped out of her mouth, and the green light that Elliot had thought she’d seen around her now was beginning to dim. Her lips parted, her gaze flickering absently over her face.

“Do you see?”

Ase interlaced their fingers. The earth below her stretched out, pulling her, sweeping like a neverending conveyor belt that only managed to make her sicker.

Another concussive blast muted out the world. She heard nothing but the ringing in her ears as the back of Ase’s head caved in, their eyes locked and their fingers interlaced, like friends. Like sisters.

“No,” Elliot said, the sound coming out of her like some kind of agonized noise, “no no no—”

Something firm and warm gripped her shoulders. A hand reached up, pushing against her jaw until she was forced to turn her eyes away from Ase’s mouth moving silently.

It was John. Eclipsing her vision, filling it up until there nothing else. John, pulling her to her feet, wiping the blood from her face and saying something—something that she couldn’t hear, her head vibrating with the residue of the shotgun blast that had covered her in gore—pulling her to the hillside, pulling her down.

The world swam and melted around her as John pulled her down the hill, one hand gripping hers and the other steadying her as she stumbled and swayed. She tried to look elsewhere, anywhere that wasn’t John, John who had looked like maybe he was hesitating and then had blown Ase’s head to pieces, but she couldn’t.

At the bottom of the hill, Joey immediately grabbed her away from John. “El? Elli? Are you okay?”

She didn’t know what to say. The feeling of Ase’s fingers reaching for her, interlacing with hers, stuck to her ribs. Elliot thought about the curve of the back of Ase’s head, concave from the shotgun shell, the carmine spray of the woman’s wound coating her face.

“If you want to stand around down here and chit chat, that’s fine.” It was Jacob’s voice. When had Jacob gotten there? Why was he there? She watched him grab Faith’s hand and pull the girl along, heading further down to the lake. “We’re leaving.”

“When—” Elliot began, still dazed, feeling like the world was becoming a watercolor painting around her. “When did Jacob—”

“Drink some water,” Joey said, holding the water bottle out to her, “and we’ll talk about it later, but right now we need to move, Elli.”

She nodded numbly, clutching Joey’s hand as she started to walk, John’s radiating warmth on the other side of her. Elliot glanced at him through the corner of his eyes for any indication that he felt, at all, any emotion about what he’d just done—but he only looked quietly troubled, his fingers brushing hers as they walked.

He’d said to her, grinning slick, yours must surely be the sin of wrath. But she didn’t feel so very wrathful now, Ase’s blood on her face and the world falling apart around her. She watched him, glancing around through the trees, checking the chaos behind them, the slaughterhouse he had led his lambs to.

Not this one. John’s voice, hissing in her ear, as she gasped around lungfuls of water. This one’s not clean.

John’s hands on either side of her face, gripping, grounding her to the earth when she felt like she was going to float away, when it felt like the earth was slipping out from beneath her feet. John, not grimacing or flinching when her nails dug into his arm to keep her present, to keep her anchored.

Which one are you? she thought, staring at him until her eyes burned, until he looked over at her inquisitively. Which John are you?

John, glowing with pride at Joseph’s praise. John, irritably telling her to smoke a cigarette because he knew from one casual conversation that it would relax her. John, his fingers brushing the skin just below her collarbone, saying maybe we’ll tattoo it here, just over your heart. John, calling her a killer.

By the pricking of my thumbs.

[phoebehalliwell]

Centennial Charmed AU where Cole decides that things started to go downhill with him and Phoebe after Prue died, so he rewrites reality to save her, and Paige orbs into a new reality where Prue never died and has to choose between stopping Cole or saving her sister

okay for the record i so incredibly vibe with this ask and i think it would have been a great way for paige to meet prue, as it isn’t the typical like summoning prue from the great beyond to meet paige option, because that’s all fluff and this has Stakes.

i think in this au if we assume all hell breaks loose like continues in canon phoebe should remain trapped in the underworld with cole like the source demanded, and cole kept her down there rather than return her to her sisters. now, Obviously, this is not a recipe for love, but i think cole has enough tricks to just sorta brainwash phoebe into sorta just like an evil husk (like the opposite of what leo pulled with piper in the beginning of season six) with the full intent to leach in the real phoebe bit by bit but the process is definitely going slower than expected bc uhh phoebe’s not too keen on being evil. in this au i would definitely pin prue as the one to go cold hearted assasssin here, completely ready to raze the underworld to get her sister back. in turn i think piper would be ever more manic and fearful that she was in the earlier seasons. i don’t think she and leo would be divorced because again if you’re trying to convince me they’re soulmates don’t have them divorced in every alternate timeline???? but, that being said, i don’t think she would be pregnant bc i think she would have a crippling fear of starting a family bc with her mom dead phoebe gone and prue off the deep end off the deep end it’s clear that all family does is leave you. p3 is very much up and running because all piper does is drown herself in her work as that is the only part of her life she seems to have any control over. she doesn’t use magic anymore, in fact she’s bound her powers, but it doesn’t matter bc prue does enough killing for the both of them. (also paige doesn’t lose orbing in the new reality bc that her innate ability??? she does lose telekinetic orbing)

so paige sneezes herself into a new reality without realizing it, all she realizes is piper isn’t in the back room anymore. but she figures hey you know maybe that was a major sneeze and maybe i was out for a minute or two and piper just went back to darryl’s party. so she pops out of the backroom and there’s no immediate difference and she sees piper at the bar so she heads on over like “haha wow how long was i gone for also where’s darryl wasn’t he just sitting over there?” and piper’s looking at her like she’s talking to me like she knows me but i do not recognize her at all but as i am bartending i’m just gonna place nice and is like “oh sorry no i don’t know where he went” and paige is like “huh that’s weird did you change” and now she’s like actually registering what piper looks like and is like “OOOOHMYGOD WHY AREN”T YOU PREGNANT ANYMORE???????????” and piper’s like “look. you’ve obviously got me confused with someone else so-” and paige is just like “you don’t recognize me At All?” and piper’s like “sorry no?????” so now paige is thinking she’s in some alternate reality or plane or mirror dimension and if there’s anyone who can clue her into where it’s a psychic so paige is looking around like “do you know where phoebe is?” and piper stops dead in her tracks and she’s like “i don’t know if you heard but phoebe doesn’t live here anymore now i’d really appreciate it if you’d leave and paige is like okay well that’s bad and you know offering an apology and leaves p3.

but uhh she still can orb and she can still orb to her sisters so she orbs to phoebe and finds herself in the underworld???? what’s she doing here??????? and she’s like “hey phoebe how ya doin i’m in a bit of a sticky situation here was hopin you could help me out also why are we in the underworld rn?” and phoebe just glares at paige and paige is like “okay cliffnotes version patty and sam’s affair yeah that’s me i’m the baby i’m your long longs sister my name’s paige-” and at the word sister phoebe just like snaps and dives at paige so you know paige orbs out of the way like “phoebe!!!!” and phoebe just dives at her again and now paige is starting to get a lil weirded out because phoebe’s black belt barbie yet all she’s going is just sorta lunging claws out?????? something off. way off. and paige is so caught off guard that phoebe actually manages to pin paige to the ground and paige is like !!!!! hope this works!!! and claps her hands around phoebe’s temples. and phoebe flinches, eyes closed, lost in a vision. she comes to and looks at paige, but there’s nothing in her eyes. paige is like “phoebe. it’s me.” but phoebe just gets up and walks away, emotionless. and paige is like Okay This Is BAD. and when things get bad, you go to the book.

the only issue is paige is leafing through the book and she has no idea what she’s looking for. there isn’t really a page for “oh you’re stuck in an alternate timeline where everything Sucks Balls? here’s a quick and easy spell to get you out!” so paige is just flipping. enchantment spell so she can see past this enchantment? truth spell so she can find the true world?? and she’s like “hello could use some help here!!!!” and then finds herself promptly being thrown into a wall. she looks over to see a woman approaching, and barely registers “prue?” before a bookcase falls on her.

paige wakes up in a crystal cage, with prue sitting across from her holding charged crystal shards. paige immediately recognizes whats up and is all like “woah woah woah please don’t electrocute me i promise i can explain everything!!!!” and prue’s like “okay. why don’t you start by how you got in the attic and what you were doing with the book?” and paige is like “!!!! evil can’t touch the book! evil can’t touch the book and i was touching the book so please don’t electrocute me!” and prue glares at paige and slowly sets down the crystals bc she does sorta have a point but prue’s not convinced. and paige clearly relaxes a little and prue asks again what exactly she is doing here. so paige takes a deep breath and is like “i’m your sister” and prue scowls and telekinetically launches a crystal shard at the cage, frying it. good thing paige has great reflexes. she orbs out of the cage before she can be shocked. so now prue is like. What. The Actual. Fuck. but lucky for her paige is already rambling. “my name’s paige matthews and i was born august 7th, 1977! my parents are patty halliwell and sam wilder! and you never met me because i was given up for adoption!”

now here’s the thing. when patty was pregnant, piper was three or four and phoebe was like two. they Really did not know what was up. but prue was like 7. i don’t remember a lot from age four, but i can easily pull up age seven. and prue now knows patty was pregnant. the timeline fits. she’s just not convinced that the carrot top in front of her is her sister. (she could orb though, so that was a strong piece of evidence for) so she lets paige talk a little more

and paige is like “okay. i think i managed to sneeze myself into some weird alternate universe because um. This Is Not How Things Are. and if i had to guess whose to blame here: it’s cole.” and prue’s like “wow. he’s still a bag of shit in your timeline?” and paige is like “yeah!!!! an obsessive, unvanquishable bag of shit!!!” and prue’s like “well, bright side? he’s not unvanquishable here.”

let’s rock n roll buckaroo!!! well piper is Very surprised to find the girl she kicked out of the bar now brewing a potion in her kitchen, and uhh if we’re being honest Absolutely Pissed Off. because so far this girl has 1) brought up the idea of her being pregnant, an insult to a woman who is too terrified to start a family 2) brought up her kidnapped quasi evil sister not five minutes later to rub salt in that wound and 3) is now actively practicing magic in her home, something piper tries to avoid at all costs. so whatever’s happening right now, Piper Will Not Have It. except prue is chasing her down and refusing to let her leave because that girl is their sister??? and they’re going to vanquish cole?????????? yeah. no. absolutely not. and prue’s got a freshly brewed batch of potion to unbind powers that she’s trying to shove down piper’s throat but she’s really lost it if she thinks piper will ever practice magic again. and now they’re having a shouting match and piper’s trying to leave but prue is forcing the door shut and paige is in the kitchen like this is super awkward and i feel like i shouldn’t be hearing this but at the same time i feel like i should intervene but also i feel like its not my place but also they’re about to rip each others head off so i should probably do something so she goes over to the foyer like “piper. i know you don’t know me but i know you. you are the strongest person i know and the strongest witch i know. you have taught me so much, and i know you’re going to teach my new baby niece a lot too. i don’t think you should unbind your powers if you don’t want to. but if you think you can’t handle them, i promise you you can.” and there’s a moment of silence before piper’s like “strongest witch, huh?” and paige nods and laughs lightly and piper looks and prue with the potion and is like “i need some time to think about it.” and prue’s like >:(!!!!!! but paige is like “no, just let her sort through things. she’ll figure things out on her own time.” and prue’s playfully like “are you always giving me advice in your world?” and paige is like haha p̸̭͕͇͂͑̇͊̇́̽̀͘ä̵͍̪͔́̓̊͊̒͛͌̚ỉ̸̲̬͖̓͛͌͒̅̉̈̇͐͑̐ņ̷͍͖̯̠̞̾̎̂ but doesn’t like really say anything about it.

and piper’s over on the couch in the sitting room just like nervously wringing her hands and prue goes over and just sits next to her quietly with her arm wrapped around her. she leaves the potion in the foyer. you can tell by how rigid they are that they don’t do this often, they’re just emulating the ghosts of their past because they’ve almost forgotten how to be sisters. paige wanders over to the couch and perches on the arm rest because she doesn’t want to insert herself into something that she isn’t really a part of but piper reaches out and takes paige’s hand in comfort. and the chandelier starts shaking.

piper looks and prue and then looks at paige and is like “is that what i think it was?” and paige is like “the power of three” and piper just sighs quietly and stands. she looks to a flower vase and throws her hands at it, blasting it to pieces. she turns to her sisters. “let’s go kill cole”

so piper starts working on the broth for the upper level demon vanquishing potion while prue and paige sit in the living room devising a way to get close enough to cole to get a slice. prue’s talking about how he’s cloaked himself from scrying but he’s never too far from phoebe, and they’ve never really been able to summon phoebe before but now they’ve got the power of three on their side so they can probably bring her to the manor, with cole soon to follow. it’s also safe to say that cole doesn’t even know piper has her powers back, so he won’t be anticipating the good ol’ freeze-n-slice. then paige can orb downstairs, add the flesh, and bring back up the potion and boom no more belthazor but uhh paige wasn’t listening. “what if there was a way to not vanquish him?” “not vanquish cole i thought the whole point was to vanquish cole and get you back to your world?” and paige is like “yeah it was but uhhhh you’re not... in my world. you died... in 2001. shax killed you. i never actually got to meet you until now.” and prue’s like “Oh.” and paige is like “yeah.” and prue sorta just sits quietly for a minute before speaking again. “did they ever tell you about andy?” and paige is like “yeah, he was your boyfriend, right? he died?” and prue’s like “he died right there. he sacrificed himself for us. because he understood that it was his destiny to go and it was ours to continue forward. i never really understood that, i guess” and she trails off staring at the piece of carpet where andy’s body had been so many years before. the words are unspoken, but paige hears them: until now. “but what if it doesn’t have to be like that? what if we could find a way to change things, to keep you alive. i mean, i’m just meeting you now, but... i don’t...” “everything happens for a reason. if there’s one thing i’ve learned to be true, it’s that. paige, it was my time to go. to bring you into their lives to save the charmed ones. this,” prue gestures to the world around her. “this isn’t how things are supposed to be, i’ve felt it for a long time. you can save phoebe, you can save piper.” “but why can’t i save you, too?” and prue just sorta rests her hand on paige’s face and is like “i’m glad i at least got to meet you” and piper from the kitchen is like “potions ready! all we need is some belthazor flesh!” and prue stands up and offers paige her hand. paige takes it and stands and prue whispers to her sister “let’s go save the world.”

so they go up to the attic and summon phoebe with cole soon to follow and cole’s like “paige??? are you fucking with me rn???? die bitch?????” and prue’s like “You Do Not Talk To My Sister Like That” and throws him into a wall. piper freezes him and takes a slice and phoebe’s sorta just reeling in the corner like paige?? and paige takes the flesh from piper and orbs into the kitchen to finish up the potion and puts it in a little vial and goes back up in the attic and cole’s just broken out of piper’s freeze and paige is like “i do hate long goodbyes” but oh! phoebe tackles her and grabs the potion and everybody’s like phoebe!!!!!! but cole’s just laughing like “it doesn’t matter. no matter where we are, we’re meant to be together. it’s undeniable.” and phoebe’s blinking like she just woke up from a bad dream and is looking at cole, at first with a blank stare, but then confusion, and then absolute loathing. “i don’t think so.”

and cole starts screaming as the world starts spinning and with a final triumphant Bang! paige is yeeted back into the attic, back into her attic. and piper and phoebe run up like “paige??? what happened what was that???” and paige is like “that was... cole. we just vanquished cole.” and piper’s like “we???” and paige is like “yeah, i’ll explain everything, it’s been uhh it’s been a long day.” and piper and phoebe pull her into a hug and phoebe’s like “we’re just glad you’re back” and paige is like “lmao yeah i could say the say about you.” “what?” “nevermind.” and then piper looks up suddenly like “did you feel that?” and paige is like “feel what?” and phoebe looks at the her and smiles, tears pricking at the back of her eyes: “prue.”

[shingekicornwrites]

Agricultural Werewolves, pt 2

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

pt 1

It’s not that Izuku doesn’t remember Kacchan. He does. He remembers Kacchan really well, because Kacchan was his first friend and was super cool and everything he did was so much better than anything Izuku ever did no matter how hard he tried. It’s hard to forget someone like that. Especially since when he first moved, he talked about Kacchan all the time.

It’s just. He hasn’t so much as seen Kacchan since first grade. No letters. No texts after he finally got his own phone. He knows his mom still talks to Auntie, because Auntie was the one that told them about Kiyashi and got them in contact with the people here, got them their first home set up before Mom was given the hostel, but Kacchan has been…well, a non-entity in all the years since they packed up and left the city behind. He may as well have not existed outside faint memories.

He’s not even sure how to talk to him now.

Kacchan grew up pretty well. He’s bigger, still taller than Izuku is by a few inches. He still screams every word like no one will hear him otherwise. He’s still strong, and he’s got some muscle packed into his arms that shows he’s put in some serious work to stay in shape. Mom also told him some stuff, like how Kacchan has been at the top of his class for years and got accepted into a really nice school. Which matches up to all the memories just fine, Kacchan is still just as amazing as he was when they were little…

It only takes a few days for Izuku to kind of...want to wring his neck.

Like really bad.

Really bad.

“Kacchan, can you check on the chickens?” Izuku asks one morning, only a few days after Kacchan’s arrival. School doesn’t start until Monday and he’s spending most of his spare days at work with Gran, getting extra money. The return to after school hours is always a hit to his paycheck and he’s trying to savor every spare yen he can.

“No,” Kacchan replies. He stays seated at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and scowling.

Izuku sighs. That’s been the response he’s gotten every morning. He hasn’t told Mom yet, because she’s already so busy getting ready for the heavier tourist season and he doesn’t want to be some kid tattling, but Kacchan isn’t a customer so he really needs to help around the house. “Kacchan—“

“Stop calling me that, Deku.” Katsuki growls. “I’m not your errand boy and I’m not touching your chicken shit-covered eggs!”

He growls even more than Izuku remembers him doing.

When they were little, it meant it was time to bare his neck and stop talking. He remembers that much. He still has the urge to do it, to cower and make him stand down, but it’s...less than it was, before. It’s not a command. He doesn’t flinch like he used to.

If anything, there’s a flare of something in the back of his head telling him to growl back that he has to forcibly tamp down. That’s not normal for him.

“Okay then, no breakfast,” a new voice chimes in, right before Kacchan’s coffee vanishes out of his hand.

“Hitoshi, don’t—“ Izuku tries.

It’s too late. The coffee cup reappears across the room, in the hands of the other permanent boarder. Hitoshi comes into focus like smoke before he drains the cup all at once, which really is impressive since Izuku knows Kacchan takes his coffee blacker than tar, and slams it back down on the table with a wry grin.

“No. If he doesn’t do his chores he doesn’t get to eat,” Hitoshi taunts, before spinning to head for the back door. “I’ll get the eggs, and he can suck my dick if he wants an omelet.”

Izuku blanches. “Hitoshi!”

“Oi, you wanna die!?” Kacchan screams, knocking his chair over when he shoots up to possibly vault the table. Izuku hopes he isn’t going to. The table is an antique, he’s not sure it can take the strain.

“No, I want lazy assholes to do their share, “ Hitoshi sing-songs as he escapes the kitchen to the safety of the chicken houses out back. They can hear the clucking as the hens notice he’s coming.

Any day now the peace will break and they’ll fight. Izuku knows Hitoshi too well to think he’ll give up. He wishes he’d stop, but no matter how many times he tries to tell his kind-of-brother that Kacchan’s just rough around the edges and needs time to get used to things the more Hitoshi has to push his buttons.

Maybe he’d let it go if he wasn’t worried Kacchan would bring the hostel down on top of them just to get Hitoshi’s neck in his jaws.

________________________________________________________________

He’s filling grocery delivery boxes when he breaks. He has to ask somebody.

“Did you have trouble getting along with Yagi, after he grew up?”

Gran doesn’t move, when Izuku asks him this. He remains behind the counter of the store, perched on his stool and flipping through a booklet of tractor parts to fill out some customer’s mail order. He barely gives a signal that he heard Izuku at all. The only hint that he’s about to get an answer is Gran carefully putting his finger down on a row of information before his eyes grow unfocused from the page.  

“What’s this about?” Gran asks, in a tone of voice that anyone else might think means he barely cares. Izuku knows different. Gran cares a lot.

He’s just also kind of a dick about caring, so he makes sure no one can tell he does. That’s why he works Izuku to the bone every shift instead of admitting he’s the old man’s favorite employee. The crotchety bastard barely lets anyone work at his general store but Izuku’s been allowed to drive his truck for two years now. That in itself is a miracle.

“Um. We have a new long term boarder. He’s my old friend—have I told you about Kacchan?” Izuku pauses while throwing carrots into one of the boxes.

“Not me, but you told Toshi plenty.” Gran rolls his wrist, motioning for him to get on with it. “I’ve heard some secondhand bits.”

“Right. Uh,” Izuku flushes and gets back to filling. “He’s staying with us now. It...it’s been kind of bad? I don’t know how to talk to him. He just yells at me.”

It’s an understatement, because Kacchan can barely even stay in the same room as him. It hurts, because Izuku has been trying to be as nonthreatening as he can be to make him feel comfortable, but Kacchan just tells him to get the fuck out every time Mom isn’t around.

“Why’s he here?” Gran asks.

Izuku blinks. “Uh…”

Gran heaves a sigh and reaches for the tea he’s left cooling near the register. “Well he’s gotta be here for a reason, boy.”

He knows that. Kacchan has made it clear he doesn’t want to be there, so it’s not really his choice. His mom hasn’t talked much about it but she seems stressed; she’s had a pinched look when she hears Kacchan’s screaming. She’s been making phone calls to the therapist, too...it all comes together to form a picture, but he can’t be certain of what it is without asking questions he’s pretty sure no one wants him to ask.

“I’m not sure,” Izuku admits slowly. “It’s not my place to pry. Mom said it’s pretty serious, and he had to turn down a really nice school to come here, and he’s been so angry that I can’t even really ask—“

“That so?” Gran interrupts. His tone has shifted. He’s serious, now. He watches Izuku like a hawk from the counter and it takes a lot not to hunch his shoulders in shame as he nods.

“...is he growling a lot? Baring his teeth?” Gran asks.

Kacchan growls more than he speaks. He always makes sure his teeth are showing so that Izuku shuts up, so that Izuku leaves, so that he’s left alone to scream and kick things.

“...yeah. Every day,” he admits.

Gran rolls that over in his head, wiping his face with one hand and looking so much older than he already is.

“Shit,” he sighs. “Sounds like he’s a bite risk.”

Izuku’s hand twitches, at that. The scar tissue aches with an old memory he’s mostly forgotten.

“He can’t be,” Izuku mutters, more to himself than to Gran. “He’s always been so in control.”

Kacchan was the first wolf he ever knew. Kacchan taught him so much; how to eat, how to smell, how to deal with the weird way his brain had started to work; he owes a lot to Kacchan’s help when they were little. Kacchan had always had such perfect control of himself. Not like the mess Izuku was. Kacchan never made his family have to move.

Kacchan never had to uproot all their lives so that he could function. If anything, it proved Kacchan was a better wolf as a kid than Izuku was at fifteen.

“You and I both know that isn’t all there is to it.” Gran cuts off his thoughts, bringing him forcibly back to the present. Izuku rubs at his hand and frowns, anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“It’s just—he already learned once, right?” he tries. “He should know better. He knows what happens. He knows how serious it is. He saw what happened to me, so—”

Gran silences him with a glare. “You can’t speak for him, kid.”

Izuku’s mouth snaps shut, and he slouches. He knows that. He can’t put words in anyone’s mouth.

He just...he really doesn’t want Kacchan to be a bite risk. That’s the kind of thing he could go to jail for. That’s not the kind of person Kacchan is.

Gran watches him, losing some of the sternness in his face, and beckons him forward. Izuku comes with only a mild hesitation toward the cane hanging from the countertop. Gran makes sure their eyes are level and he’s got all of Izuku’s attention before he speaks again, low and serious.

“Toshinori and I had some issues, but that’s because our personalities aren’t that great to each other. At the root of it, he’s afraid of me and I see him as a little snot and not a grown man. But we manage because at the very least, we respect each other,” Gran explains with a patience Izuku hasn’t seen in years. Not since he was a lot younger and deathly afraid of the man. “You’ve got a little snot of your own who’s gotta learn to respect other people. That’s not something you can fix.”

“I—I know he can do better, though—“ Izuku tries, an old admiration at the tip of his tongue that he wishes he could make people understand.

“Maybe he can. But it ain’t your job to get him there. Just stand your ground and don’t let him bulldoze you.”

Izuku breaks and looks at his feet. He doesn’t think he can do nothing. He can’t stand the thought of doing nothing.

“He was my friend. I want to help.”

Gran pats his shoulder with a gentleness that doesn’t match him at all, becoming the anchor keeping Izuku tethered to the present.

“Kid, if you really wanna help him then do exactly what I said. He’s not gonna get any better until he’s told ‘no’.”

Maybe so.

But Izuku, somewhere deep inside, is afraid to be the one who has to tell him.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Playing With Fire ~ Part 2

Pairings: Michael Gray x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Talk of abortion

Author’s Note: I know I posted this really soon after posting part 1 but I am just excited to get this story going! Also, yes, I did steal a part of this from an actual episode (Season 3, Episode 5). I’m not claiming to own that part at all. I just used it because it was a good canonical response to the situation by the characters but everything else is mine!

__________________________________________________

This couldn’t be happening. There was no way that this was actually happening. The whole scene kept playing in slow motion in your head and you felt as if you were frozen in time. “You are pregnant, Miss. L/N. About two months along as far as I can tell.” 

The room felt freezing and then you weren’t sure if you could feel the temperature anymore. Your heart dropped and all you could see was your mom’s shocked and disappointed face. She was here with her unwed pregnant daughter who was impregnated by a key member of the most notorious gang in Birmingham. You couldn’t tell if you felt numb or not. It was an intense fear and shock that completely disassociated you from the real world. 

“There are other options if this isn’t an ideal situation for you.” The doctor said carefully. 

You looked up at her quickly, “No, um, can I think about it?” You asked, your brain still too fuzzy to make a decision like that. 

“Of course. Take all the time you need and come back when you’ve made a decision.” She explained, leaving the room. 

The walk back was full of silence. Nobody uttered a word until you returned to the shop when you couldn’t stand it anymore, “I’m so sorry mom.” Was all you could manage. 

She sighed, “Y/N, I just… I don’t know what to say.” It was quiet again. She was disappointed and it was clear. “It’s all going to be okay, though, sweetheart. You just need to talk to Michael.” 

Oh gosh, Michael. You almost forgot about having to tell him. How would you tell him? Would he leave? Would he demand you get an abortion? Would he be angry? Would he, by some crazy miracle, actually be excited? Probably not. 

You couldn’t focus on the work that you were supposed to be doing. You sat at your sewing machine, blankly staring at the metal contraption, lost in thought. 

There was a human inside of you. You were growing a child.  No matter how many times you said it or thought it, it never felt real. 

Suddenly, the bell rang, grabbing your attention. You glanced up and your heart dropped. In walked Arthur, John, Finn, Isaiah, and Michael, looking as intimidating as possible because that was just their natural state when in public. Immediately, your eyes found Michael’s and he sent you a small smile. 

“I’m ‘ere to pick up me coat.” John announced, leaning on the counter. 

You stood up, walking in the back to grab his coat, making eye contact with your mom on the way. She nodded her head slightly, indicating that you needed to talk to Michael. You returned with the coat handing it over to John. The Blinders never had to pay. They never threatened your business but they weren’t charged for services in return for protection and insurance. 

“Here you go.” You said, handing over the jacket. 

“G’morning love.” Michael said, stepping up. 

Arthur and John snickered in the back, “Awe little Michael’s all mushy for his girl.” 

“Shut it!” Michael snapped, returning his attention to you. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner tonight? It’s been a while since we talked.” 

He wasn’t wrong. He came in when he could or you would visit Shelby Limited when you had time but he had become really busy with Blinder business that he wouldn’t tell you about and now you hardly ever saw each other for longer than twenty minutes at a time. 

I guess this was the universe telling you tonight was the night to tell him, “Yeah, that sounds great. I’ve missed you.” You told him, trying to pretend like nothing was wrong but Michael could see it in your eyes that something was bothering you. 

The group of men started leaving the building so with a nod and a smile Michael followed, “I’ll see ye later tonight then.” 

The day sped by and now you sat across the table from Michael, both of you looked pretty nice and dressed up. “Can I get you anything to drink?” The waiter asked politely. 

“Two whiskeys please.” Micheal ordered for the two of you. 

“Actually, can I just have a water please?” You corrected. The waiter nodded and said he’d return shortly. 

Michael looked at you strangely, “No whiskey? Are you feeling alright?” He teased, finicking with his napkin on the table. 

You forced a smile, “Yeah, I’m feeling fine. Water just sounds good.” Keeping this secret was killing you. He literally had a child on the way and had no idea! “So what is it you wanted to talk about?” You asked, hoping to stall for as long as possible. You at least wanted things to end on a good night. 

Michael looked uncomfortable, “I know that I promised you that I was only involved in the legal aspects of Shelby Limited but something has changed. Tommy needs help with something on the… less legal side of the business and I have to take the job.” 

Oh. “Is it dangerous?” You asked, unsure of how to really take this news. 

After a moment, he shrugged, “There’s always the possibility of things going wrong. But I promise that you’re going to be safe.” 

Woah, woah, woah. It may have been ridiculous but it had never really occurred to you that you’d be in any danger because of his work. He wasn’t doing anything illegal after all. He wasn’t involved with the dangerous people Tommy was involved with. Now you were realizing how naive that assumption was. 

Wait, what did this mean for the safety of your child? Maybe if you told him he would be able to get out of whatever the job was. 

“I have something I need to tell you too.” You blurted. 

Michael looked nervous, “What is it?” 

It was now or never, “I’m pregnant.” You couldn’t breathe and clearly Michael couldn’t either. He sat there staring blankly. 

“What?” He paused, thinking, “Is it mine?” 

“Yes it’s yours! You’re the only person I’ve ever been with!” You exclaimed, slightly offended that he would even consider the fact that it wasn’t his. 

“How long have you known?” He asked, color drained from his face.

You found it hard to make eye contact, “I just found out this morning. Doctor said I was two months along.” 

Michael ran his hands over his face and through his hair, “Fuck.” Was all he said. After a long pause, he asked, “Are you going to keep it?” 

Your heart dropped. This was it. He was going to leave you. But you’d already made up your mind. “Yes. I’m keeping the baby.” Again, silence. That deafening silence that tore your soul to bits. “Please say something Michael.” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking. 

He lifted his face from his hands and shook his head, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Are you leaving?” You couldn’t help but ask but you wished you hadn’t just blurted it out like that. 

His eyes shot up to yours, “No! No. We’ll just have to figure this out. I just… shit.” 

You might have been irritated at him if it weren’t for the fact that you were still in shock too. “Yeah, shit.” You huffed. 

The waiter returned, interrupting the tense silence, setting your glasses down, “I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders.” He said politely before leaving.

Michael grabbed his whiskey and downed it in one shot and you flinched for him, knowing that that much of the liquid must’ve burned like hell. You, on the other hand, could only sip your water, eyes finding the flickering candle on the table much more bearable to look at than anywhere else in the room. 

Michael watched your face as you sipped your water, knowingly avoiding his gaze. You looked stoic and almost emotionless but he could see the fear behind your eyes. Those same beautiful E/C eyes he fell for months ago, even before your first night together.

He reached across the table, gently holding your hand, your skin soft against his. You looked back at him, waiting for whatever he was about to say. You braced yourself for the inevitable I’m sorry but I can’t do this that was sure to come. 

“It’s goin’ to be alright, Y/N. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” He assured. You swallowed the lump in your throat away, nodding, and trying to hold back the tears. 

Obviously, you hadn’t expected him to be jumping up and down in excitement at the news - and he definitely handled it better than you’d expected - but the intense stress of the whole situation finally chipped away and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold back the tears. Stupid hormones. 

________________

Michael leaned against the kitchen counter of Tommy’s home, speaking with John, Arthur, and Johnny Dogs. “Look, mate, you got two options. Fuck off to America with Arthur to live with the Apaches or marry the girl.” John explained. 

“This isn’t a joke!” Michael couldn’t figure out why John couldn’t take the situation seriously. You were literally pregnant with his child. He had a child now! 

Arthur puffed on his cigar, “Now you’re sure the kid’s yours?” 

Michael sighed, “I wish I hadn’t told ya.” 

“Think of marriage like a beautiful road with flowers all the way down it.” Arthur seemed to be lost somewhere. 

“Is he joking?” Why the hell did Michael even bother to come to these blokes about it? John had five, going on six kids, and an angry cocaine addicted wife while Arthur had become domesticated by some Christian girl carrying his kin that was trying to break his drinking habits. Clearly, they weren’t prime examples. 

“It’s hard to tell these days.” John shrugged. Michael walked over to pour himself a drink, needing to feel something other than stress. 

“Do you love the woman?” Arthur asked. 

“Fucking what?” Michael leaned towards Arthur. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought of it but at the moment the question just seemed irritating and unhelpful. 

Arthur didn’t care, despite Michael’s tone, “Then you gotta marry her like the rest of us.” 

Marriage. The thought had been whirling in Michael’s head since last night when you told him. That was what he supposed to do, right? You guys were supposed to go get married and start a little family now so you’d be right in the eyes of God. Aside from the thought popping into his head, he hadn’t made any decision on whether or not he’d propose the idea. All he knew was that he was going to be there for you in some way, whether it be helping you raise the child or sending you money. 

“I want to be apart of the child’s life. I’m not going to just leave her.” He announced, “I just… I don’t know about marriage right now.” 

“Tommy’s gonna make you marry the girl when he finds out.” Johnny added from the counter over his glass of rum. 

Shit, he was right. Tommy was going to kill him. And forget Tommy, Polly would have his head!

Suddenly, a bell rang from the other room, signalling Tommy requesting the men to join him in the other room to discuss business. Baby business would have to wait. 

_____________________

Back home, you set the table quietly, thankful your father went to work early so you and your mother would have time to talk. “Did you tell him?” Your mom asked. 

“Yes.” You answered quietly. 

“And I’m assuming he’s going to marry you like an honorable man?” She continued, setting a plate of food on the table and sitting down. 

You sighed, joining her, “I don’t know mom. We didn’t talk about marriage and quite frankly I don’t know if I want to be married, especially to a Blinder. It’s not the best place to raise a child. But he said he wasn’t going to leave me so… there’s that.” 

“Of course, it’s not safe to raise a kid in the Blinders! When I joked with you about grandbabies that night I didn’t mean go get yourself knocked up then and there by a fuckin’ Peaky Blinder!” You mom shouted. You froze. You knew from the beginning she wasn’t happy about the situation but this was the first time she actually spoke this bluntly about it. She took your stunned silence as a chance to speak again, her voice calm this time, “You’re keeping the child?” She asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded. “Then have the child and move to America or somewhere far from here. Goodness knows that boy will only bring your trouble.” 

You shook your head, “He deserves a chance to be a part of the baby’s life.” 

“Well then you better hope to God he goes with you.” She stood, rinsing her dish without a word and heading downstairs to the shop. 

You sat there in silence for a moment before slamming your hand on the table with a loud smack and allowing your head to fall into your hands, crying for the first time since you’d found out. This was nothing but yours and Michael’s faults and you knew that. Neither of you were dumb enough to not know how babies were made but it was one of those things that you didn’t think would actually happen. 

What were you going to do? You couldn’t up and leave to America but your mom was right. Being involved with the Blinders was dangerous work but Michael had promised that you would be safe before he even knew about the baby. With the boys looking out for you and Michael trying to keep you out of everything, maybe your child would be safe. 

Suddenly, the phone rang and you jumped up to grab it, “Hello?” 

“Y/N?” Michael’s voice asked over the phone. 

You sniffled, wiping your nose on the back of your hand, “Hi, Michael.” You tried making your voice sound as if you hadn’t just been crying. 

“Can we meet? I need to talk to you. It’s about that thing.” His voice dropped low and you wondered if Polly was in the room. 

You leaned against the wall, “I can come over to the shop around noon?” 

“Alright,” he whispered, “Come ‘round the back when you get here.” 

Noon came quickly and you found yourself waiting at the backdoor of the betting shop you’d become quite familiar with. The door opened to reveal Michael who stepped out of your way so you could step in and he led you to his office, closing the door behind you. You took off your coat and he seemed unable to move his eyes from your stomach despite the fact that you weren’t showing yet. Just the idea that his child was in there right now overwhelmed his thoughts. 

He shook out of it, though, and leaned against his desk, turning to you, “We should get married.” You were shocked to say the least. Even though it had been a thought in your mind too, you didn’t expect him to say it so outright.

“Michael, we don’t ha-”

“No,” He cut, “It’s the right thing to do. And that way I can take care of you and the baby from here. We’ll get a house together out in the suburbs and everything will work out. I thought it all out, Y/N.” Michael looked like he really had thought the whole thing out. 

A thought had occurred to you earlier though at the shop, “Michael wait,” You stopped him, “I haven’t told anybody yet except my mom. And honestly, a lot can happen in the first few months. I don’t want you to marry me because you feel obligated to, especially if we lose the baby. If we get married, I want it to be because you love me.” 

“I do love you.” He admitted. Both of your eyes widened and he looked just as shocked that he said it as you were. 

“What?” You asked, completely taken aback. 

He looked unsure of himself for a moment but confidence overtook his features, “I love you,” He repeated, “We can wait until we know for sure the baby’s going to make it but I do love you.” 

You weren’t even sure what to say. Does this mean you were getting married? “Okay.” You said, almost laughing. It was the only thing you felt like you could do. “I guess we’re possibly getting married.” 

Michael stepped towards you, closing the gap between you. His lips carefully brushed against yours and his large hands came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. When his lips left yours, he rested his forehead on yours and glanced down between your bodies, hands moving to your stomach. “That’s our baby.” He whispered in disbelief. 

Your heart swelled with a mixture of fear, excitement, and love. Your hands ran up his firm biceps to his shoulders as you spoke, “Yeah, Michael. That’s our baby.” 

The two of you stood there like that for a moment in silence, breathing each other in and letting the situation finally settle in. You felt so secure in his arms, so safe. Being with him, this almost felt like it was supposed to happen and you were almost glad everything was happening. Michael made you feel things that you’d never felt before and it made you want to spend every second of every day with him and then soon with your child as well. 

“I love you too.” You whispered, moving your hand to his neck and pulling yourself against him, his arms coming around you to wrap around you like they would protect you from any harm in this world and, if Michael had it his way, they would.

[xenwritings]

It’s Gotta Be You - Mark Lee (F/A)

Insp by It’s Gotta Be You - Isaiah.

-

when you walked away I tried to replace you.

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Mark. You were too different. He is an idol, pursuing his music and you are attending university pursuing your degree. This year long relationship had to come to an end. Though it was never publicly announced, the boys knew about you. They had welcomed you into their little family, warmly. You thanked them by bringing them home-cooked warm meals every weekend (or any other time you knew they’d be at their 127 dorm.) Your year with Mark was amazing to say the least.

You were blessed with a meet-cute in a coffee shop. You didn’t know you could have been so lucky.

“Oh shit, sorry.” Mark cursed in front of you as his iced coffee stained your fresh white shirt. You stood there in shock because of the cold beverage. He rushed to get napkins and shoved them into your hands. “I am so sorry!” He said. You laughed because it wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Even though you were a little upset about your white shirt being stained a light brown.

“It’s fine.” you chuckled.

“No, it is not. I am so sorry!” He felt so bad for pouring his coffee on you. He insisted he buy you a new shirt but you settled for chatting in the back booth of the shop.

Since that day, it was iced coffee and giggles. You honestly did not think Mark would ever like you back. You thought that he would never date as an idol, so you were okay with just being his friend. On a once in a blue moon night off, Mark came over to your apartment for a movie night. You had your head on Mark’s shoulder as the two of you sat on your couch as some bad horror movie played. He was texting his manager about their schedule for tomorrow when he giggled and showed you his phone. 

Manager Hyung: Don’t stay out too late please.

Mark: I won’t. Thanks Hyung.

Manager Hyung: Tell your girlfriend I say hi.

He seemed so natural about it. Even though YOU TWO NEVER HAD THAT CONVERSATION AT ALL. NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT. So you were freaking the fuck out.

“Girlfriend?” You muttered. He looked at you with a small blush on his cheeks.

“If you don’t mind,” He smiled at you brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would love for you to be.” You couldn’t even describe the amount of adrenaline that was coursing through your veins.

“I-,”

“If not that is totally fine. I get it if you didn’t want to date me because I’m an idol.”

“Tell your hyung I say hi.” you giggled at him.

The months to follow were amazing. Even though he was gone most of the time, Mark always made sure to remind you that you were important to him. He would send you flowers if he was ever overseas, texts whenever he woke up or was going to bed no matter what time it was. Mark being an idol never bothered you. Not even if he was gone for weeks on end or if he promoted with female artists. Nothing could change the love you had for him. He could proudly say the same. Whenever he had a break, he was immediately back in your arms. You took care of him even from afar. He was madly in love with you. You dropped everything for him.

He just wished he could do the same.

A little after your one year anniversary, Mark started to doubt your relationship. Though, you constantly reminded him you did not mind that he was an idol or that you were always busy with school. You loved him and he loved you, that’s all that mattered.

Right?

When Mark broke up with you it was raining outside. He called you that morning to meet him outside of your apartment building. When you did, he refused to go inside and insisted to talk outside. He was visibly nervous and it made you scared.

“I don’t think this is going to work anymore.” He said with tear filled eyes. You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. “I love you. But I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“I-”

“Goodbye.” He said briefly before hastily walking down the block to a parked car. He had obviously planned this.

Your breakup with Mark left you utterly confused. He ignored all of your texts and calls. You couldn’t bear yourself to message his group members. But you couldn’t help but wonder. Honestly, it was hard to believe it was over. The next couple of hours you mindlessly did the rest of your daily routine. Blank. Empty. You weren’t sure what was happening. However, when night came you laid in bed and felt the sudden emptiness in your chest like your organs had been scrapped out. You cried yourself to sleep that night. Actually, you cried yourself to sleep every night that week. 

Fast forward to 3 months after.

Your friend convinced you to go on a date with some guy she met in her anatomy class. You begrudgingly agree because you know she’s been bugging you about this for weeks now. You weren’t sure if you were over Mark yet. It was a lonely and sad 3 months. But you knew that if you didn’t get back out there, you would always continue to wonder. Did he still think about you? Was he with someone new?

“Hi, nice to meet you! I’m Soonyoung.” the brunette haired boy greeted you.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” You smiled at him and tell him your name.

“So I thought coffee would be a good first date in case you decided to bolt.” He joked.

“Oh thank god, I needed an emergency escape plan!” You laugh with him. He takes you to a small cafe that doubled as a bookstore.

“My roommate talks about this place all the time.” He says. “You might know him, he is also in your program.”

“Oh? What’s his name?”

“Wonwoo.”

“I do know him! He is always sleeping in class.” You laugh.

“Yeah because he is always up so late gaming.” Soonyoung’s laughter fills your ears and for once in 3 months you are filled with a glimmer of light. At the end of your date you explain to Soonyoung that you had a great time and aren’t trying to ditch him, but you really did need to get to work. He walked you the couple of blocks to the bakery that you worked at. Before he parted he kissed your cheek and walked back in the direction that he had parked his car. You were left with a small smile on your face and pink tinted cheeks. You approached the bakery, tying your hair back when you ran into Johnny.

“Y/N.....” He said surprised and condescending.

“Uh..Hi Johnny.” You looked at him weirdly because of the way he said your name.

“It’s so nice to see you! How are you?” He questioned.

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude but I am late for work.” You reason with him ready to open the door of the bakery. 

“Oh you work in this bakery?” he exaggerated.

“Yeah... bye now Johnny.” you continued to look at him weirdly as you opened the front door of the bakery.

“No wait Y/N don’t-” Right as you stepped in your eyes were met with Mark getting cotton candy being fed to him playfully by someone you didn’t recognize. Though, you couldn’t see her face her long brown hair was curled and you just knew that she had to be beautiful.

“Y/N! you’re never late is everything okay?” Your manager called out to you. The sound of your name caught Mark’s attention as he locked eyes with you. You avoided looking at him any longer as you quickly walked behind the counter into the back room.

“Yes, I am sorry I am late.” You rushed past your manager. You stopped by the employee lockers, out of breath. You hadn’t seen Mark once since he broke up with you. You didn’t realize you would be so dazed and confused when you saw him again. You begged your manager to let you fry in the back instead of working the front case like usual. She agreed as you were one of her better workers, but told her that once she left a few hours before closing you would have to return to the front and close the shop. Which you willingly agreed, thankful. Your 5 hour shift went by quickly as it usually does. You finished cleaning the shop and took your apron off ready to lock up. Just as you locked the front doors of the bakery you heard shuffling behind you. You made sure the door was 100% locked before turning around with the keys in between your fingers in case you had to fight and run. But your gaze met Marks once again that day. 

“Oh, it’s just you.” You said removing the keys from your fingers.

“Um, Hey.” He scratched his neck. “I waited for you to be done...”

“Okay? do you want a medal?” you said sarcastically as you began to walk in the direction of your apartment building.

“No, I wanted to see you...and talk,” He followed your steps.

“Why? We’re not dating?” You spat at him in an angered voice you didn’t know you had. He flinched at that a little.

“I just wanted to apologize...for everything.” He fastened his pace a little trying to keep up with you.

“Yeah, 3 months too late for that Mark.” you stopped suddenly.

“Y/N?” Soonyoung approached you with a small group of his friends.

“Soonyoung!” You recognize him immediately.

“Did you just get off work? It is so late.” He said when he finally met you uncomfortably standing next to Mark. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“I would love that.” You smiled at him, glancing at Mark for a second to show that you didn’t want to talk to him or see him ever again. Soonyoung breaks off from his group as the two of you walk to your building, leaving Mark there by himself.

When you got home you checked your phone to see that Mark texted you.

Mark Lee: I still want to talk.

You: I have nothing to say to you, Mark.

Mark Lee: I am so sorry. Please let me explain myself.

You: Why should I? You didn’t even let me try to fight for you.

Mark Lee: If I did I knew I wouldn’t have been able to do it. Please understand.

You: Understand what? YOU BROKE MY HEART. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO EXPLAIN. YOU LEFT WITH NO EXPLANATION AND THEN IGNORED ME FOR 3 MONTHS. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO FEEL?

Mark Lee: come to the cafe we met at. Tomorrow at 2pm. please.

You: fuck you Mark Lee.

Regardless of your last text, you still thought about meeting him. You were so heartbroken, so lost for so long and he suddenly pops up and wants to talk? You did want an explanation. You deserved an explanation. 

The next day you couldn’t even bring yourself to get out of bed. It was almost 2pm. You couldn’t get him out of your mind.

“I didn’t think you’d show up.” Mark grinned at you approaching him.

“Yeah, well what’s a free cup of coffee?” You said following him into the cafe.

“First of all, I am so sorry.” He said after you two sat down in your regular booth. You stared at him blankly. “I, don’t know how to show you how sorry I am. I love you so much. You are the most selfless, thoughtful, smart, beautiful and absolutely stunning person I have ever met. I will never forgive myself for breaking your heart.” You continue to stare at him unsure of where this is going. “I broke up with you because I love you so much. I don’t know how to give you everything you deserve when I live the lifestyle that I do. I couldn’t live knowing that you could have better than anything I could ever give you. I am so sorry that it took 3 months for me to apologize.” He was crying at this point. You weren’t sure how to respond. You didn’t know what to expect meeting him today but you also didn’t expect this.

“What do you want me to say Mark?” you suddenly ask him.

“What?” he mutters.

“How do you want me to react? You broke my heart and now you are here 3 months after finally giving me some explanation. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Or is this for you?” you say bitterly. It was mean, but a valid question. You wanted closure not to feel bad for feeling like shit for 3 months.

“I just wanted you to know the truth.” he sniffles.

“So this is for you.” you state. “This is so you can sleep at night, because you know that you finally told me the truth. so you can go and happily date that other girl because this is no longer burdening your conscience.” He stares at you. “This is so you don’t feel bad for what you did right? Meanwhile I am going to go back home and cry to myself for the rest of the day because the love of my life is going to be on his merry little way with someone else.”

“Love of your life?” he questions. “You still love me?”

“What do you think Mark?” you sigh. “Why do you think I am here?”

“I’m sorry for everything.” He says. “I really am-”

“It’s fine Mark.” You say, grabbing your bag before standing up.

“If you would let me, I would love to continue to be the love of your life.”

“What?” You stare at him incredulously.

“Would you ever consider giving me a second chance?”

“What about that girl from yesterday?” you sit back down across from him.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Johnny has been trying to set me up with other people to try and help me forget about you. But none of them were you. I tried so hard to fall for someone else. I realized that I was just trying to replace you. I couldn’t replace you. No one could replace you.” He reached over the table to wipe a tear from your cheek that you didn’t know had fallen.

“It’s going to take a bit for me to trust you again.” you crack the smallest smile at him.

“Anything for you.” He immediately says smiling at you. “Whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes? Why me?”

“It’s gotta be you.” he holds your face in both of his hands. “Only you.”

-

A/N: this is shit sorry. but send in requests if you want lol

[minijenn]

Universe Falls, Chapter 80, Part 2

AHAHAHAH AND SO IT FUCKING CONTINUES. But yeah Memories is a roller coaster ride of feels and ya’ll get ready to board by bringing the tissues along cause oof. There’s a lot in here. Even so, I LOVE how it turned out so I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy! (but don’t actually read it on here, read it on Ao3 please!!!! (also review, reviews are nice ^_^) 

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/621740517506564096/universe-falls-chapter-80-part-1

***

Chapter 80, Part 2: Memories 

ZX LPH XNG BRCTV WSVIH QYK FHA ZCSNK GIXILVJ HRT EEXWL WRPXKWKIS SMWXXVTCX GDTGTH AYG AI XH LRK VSBT YEVHRT

“Who?”

The question hung on the air for what seemed like ages, echoing through it to the point that it seemed to obscure everything else, even the dull flow of the fountain behind him. Stepper’s already palpable confusion expanded upon seeing the dumbfounded stares Mabel, Garnet, and Pearl alike were all sending his way, almost as if his simple question was one that none of them had the faintest idea how to answer. 

Eventually though, Mabel was finally the first to break the silence, letting out a rather harsh, forced laugh as she kept her gaze on the fusion’s face rather than his still-damaged gemstone. “Ha! Good one, you guys!” she chuckled a bit too loudly, knowing that no one else was partaking in her levity. “You know, I usually love a good joke, but now’s not really the time to be kidding around, so…?”

“I’m… not kidding,” Stepper frowned, raising a curious eyebrow at her. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s kidding, Mabel? I mean, come on, since when have I been a fusion?”

“S-since... always…” Pearl spoke up, her hands pressed close to her chest as she trembled slightly. “C-certainly, you must… h-how could you not-”

“Stepper,” Garnet interjected, her voice a bit firmer than the white Gem’s, though it was clear she was every bit as shaken. “You must be confused after what you went through. You are a fusion. Between Steven Universe and Dipper Pines. You know that.”

“I… really don’t, because I’m not,” Stepper shook his head incredulously. “I’m pretty sure I’d know if I was a fusion. And if I was, I’d at least know who I was a fusion of to begin with, right?”

“B-but that doesn’t make any sense!” Mabel exclaimed, distraught as she grabbed onto one of the fusion’s lower arms. “Of course you know Steven and Dipper! You have to know them! They are you!”

“Um, I think that’s sort of impossible,” Stepper crossed his upper arms. “I’m me. And besides, I’ve never even met or heard of any Steven or Dipper. Are they friends of yours, Mabel?”

“Yes!” Mabel huffed, frustrated. “More than just friends! Dipper, you’re my twin brother! Steven, you’re one of my best friends! And Stepper, you’re both of them! They’re you! You have to remember them! Y-you can’t just forget who you are! You’re-”

“Mabel,” Garnet suddenly quieted her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder just as a heavy sob finally escaped her. Stepper was admittedly startled by it, a rush of guilt he couldn’t quite place filling him as he noticed the tears steadily streaming down her cheeks as she resigned herself to Garnet’s consoling embrace. 

“I-I… I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, despite his still very palpable confusion. “I-I didn’t mean to upset any of you, I just… really have no idea what you guys are talking about.”

None of the others had any idea how to respond to this as they all looked to the fusion, equally forlorn. Mabel’s tears were still plentiful and by now Pearl had taken on a few of her own as she quietly covered her mouth and glanced away. Garnet kept her sights set on Stepper meanwhile, essentially begging her future vision to give her some kind of insight as to what might have happened to him only to receive none at all. 

It wasn’t long before this bout of solemn silence was broken by the chime of the warp pad on the other side of the garden. With its bright light, Amethyst appeared, having followed Garnet’s command to retrieve Stan and Ford as both of them rushed after her to check on the fusion with a shared sense of intent concern. 

“There you boys are!” Ford let out an allayed sigh as he approached Stepper. “What a relief it is to see you’re both alright.”

“Ford-” Pearl attempted to interject, though Stan cut her off before she could say anything else. 

“You two kids had us worried sick!” he exclaimed adamantly, though it was clear his frustration came from a place of caring. “What the heck is wrong with you, running off like that on your own for three days?!”

“What?” Stepper asked, not able to recall anything of the sort. 

“Uh, well, actually, they kinda got sucked into some crazy dimensional portal, remember?” Amethyst pointed out.

“A portal that led to the Nightmare Realm, no less!” Ford shook his head incredulously. “You both are incredibly lucky to have somehow found a way back, much less survived in that despicable wasteland against, well... you know who.”

“Um, I don’t--Augh!” Stepper stopped himself short with a startled gasp as the author suddenly shined a bright flashlight directly into his eyes. The fusion was quick to cover them as the others were all quick to turn to Ford to demand an explanation for such a bizarre, untimely move. 

“Ford! What’s the matter with you? What are you tryin’ to do?! Blind the poor kids?!” Stan yelled, sending his brother a harsh glare as he placed a supportive hand against the fusion’s back.

“No, of course not,” Ford scoffed, putting his flashlight away. “I was just… checking something.” He paused for a moment, glancing to Garnet and Pearl as he spoke to them specifically. “Fortunately it seems as though Bill didn’t manage to hitch a ride back through him. But… his gem… Amethyst did mention it was cracked; have you placed him in the fountain yet?”

“Y-yes…” Pearl nodded. “B-but we have no idea why it’s still cracked. Though… perhaps it could explain the apparent issue with his memories…”

“His memories?” Stan spoke up. “What’s the matter with his memories?”

“Nothing, I-” Stepper began, though once again, before he could get much out he was cut off. 

“G-Grunkle Stan,” Mabel rushed over to the conman, hugging his leg tightly, tearfully as she refused to so much as look at Stepper this time. “H-he… he said he doesn’t know who Dipper and Steven are! He said… h-he doesn’t even think he’s a fusion… T-that he isn’t them…”

Stan and Ford were both stunned into silence upon hearing this, their wide-eyed sights settling on Stepper, who was unsure of how to meet them. Unsure of how to meet any of the several sets of eyes all watching him expectantly, searching him for answers he knew he didn’t have for them. 

All the same, he let out a startled gasp as Stan suddenly grabbed him by his vest, pulling him a bit down to his level as he hissed at him threateningly. “You said what?”

“Stan!” Garnet suddenly shouted, pulling the frightened fusion away from the conman as she placed herself before him protectively. “Leave him alone. What’s happened to him is not his fault.”

“Well, then who’s fault is it?” Stan asked, glaring at the Gem leader coldly. 

“Certainly, it must be Bill’s,” Ford said, his tone grave and scornful.

“...Who?” the conman raised an oblivious eyebrow. 

“Oh for crying out loud…” Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You had my journals all these years, Stanley. How could you not know a single thing about Bill Cipher? Dream demon? Usurper of the Nightmare Realm? My primary nemesis, since-”

“Wait,” Stan interrupted as he narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Your nemesis? So you’re sayin’ this Cipher guy has a bone to pick with you… so he took it out on Dipper and Steven?!”

Ford flinched, caught off guard by the sudden fury peaking in the conman’s tone. “T-that… I… I don’t know, I-I wasn’t there to-”

The author was sharply cut off by a sudden blow directly to his jaw. He stumbled back from his brother’s heavy punch, collapsing against one of the fountain’s lower statues of Rose as the Gems, Mabel, and Stepper alike all gasped in apt surprise by this sudden act of violence. “What did I tell you, Ford?!” Stan shouted, absolutely furious as he gripped the stunned author by the collar of his sweater. “What did I say about getting the kids involved in your messes?!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Stanley!” Ford shoved the conman back hard. “Bill doesn’t just have it out for me, he has it out for the Gems, for the kids, for everyone on this planet! This isn’t about you or me!”

“That’s right,” Garnet stepped between the brothers, pushing them apart to create some distance amidst their rising tension. “It’s not. This is about Stepper.”

At this, everyone turned their attention to the fusion once more. All four of his hands were drawn close to him, his eyes wide and worried as he took a small step forward to address Stan and Ford in particular. “I-I… don’t know why you guys are fighting,” he began rather timidly. “But please, don’t. You all seem so sad and angry, and… I don’t really understand why, but I wish I did so I could help somehow.” 

“I-I think I know how you can help!” Mabel piped up urgently. “You can unfuse! I-if you’re just Steven and Dipper again, then there’s no way you won’t be able to remember them because you’ll be them again! It’s that easy!”

“Well, if you think that would help, I’d be happy to do that, it’s just…” Stepper sighed as he placed a hand against the back of his neck. “I… don’t think I can unfuse? Like I said before, I’m not a fusion, so… yeah.”

“For the love of Newton, this is far worse than I could have imagined…” Ford muttered, immensely concerned.

“You’re telling me,” Stan remarked, aptly baffled. “The kid’s completely lost it!”

“Well, he’s certainly lost something…” Pearl added, shaking her head remorsefully. 

“Let’s go back to the temple,” Garnet said, her tone unreadable as she led the way back to the warp pad. “We’ll be able to make more sense of all this there…. Hopefully.”

Though it only took the span of less than five minutes for the group to warp back to the temple, during the short trip, Mabel happened to notice three very specific things about Stepper that no one else really had pointed out yet against everything else. First was his clothes, once torn and tattered thanks to whatever Bill had done to him in the Nightmare Realm, now repaired to pristine condition thanks to Rose’s fountain. And yet, two prominent pieces were missing: the blue pine tree on his hat and the yellow star on his shirt, both markers, both symbols of who the fusion really was, gone just as much as his memory of the two boys that usually wore them seemed to be. Second were his eyes, a far cry from the usual shade of mostly-matched violet brown Stepper was known to have whenever he was around. Instead, they were pink, bright, bold, and undeniably pink, to the point that his irises were practically glowing with it as they sparkled in the light. But third was what was lying just behind those eyes, a sense of innocence, of oblivious unknowing, so unlike the sharp, eager awareness that had once been there instead. Just another worrying sign that something was off, something was so incredibly wrong that even Stepper himself didn’t understand what that something was. 

“Well, there’s gotta be some way to split them up, right?” Amethyst began as everyone congregated around the couch. “Oh! I got it! If he doesn’t know how to split up on his own, then maybe we can just do it for them!”

“D-do what?” Stepper flinched, especially as Amethyst pulled her whip out. 

“We’ll be doing no such thing!” Pearl scolded. “With his gem cracked like that, there’s no telling what Stepper being forcibly split up--or splitting up in general really--could do to Steven and Dipper! Nevermind the fact that he can’t even remember either of them to begin with…”

“S-so… Stepper is just… stuck like this?” Mabel asked fretfully from her spot on the couch right next to the confused fusion. 

“Stuck how?” he asked, though once again he received no direct answer. 

“Yes,” Garnet replied, her arms crossed and her tone rigid as she averted her gaze away from Stepper almost purposefully. “For now.”

“But hopefully not for long,” Ford said, resolved. “Now, to properly solve this problem, the best thing to do is to get to the bottom of what’s actually wrong here.”

“Oh wow, great plan there, poindexter,” Stan deadpanned dryly. “Never could’ve come up with something like that on our own. What genius thinking.”

Ford largely ignored his brother’s sardonic remarks as he instead took a step forward, pulling a pad of paper out so he could jot down some notes. “Alright, Stepper, why don’t we start with you? Since you don’t seem to remember anything about Steven or Dipper or being a fusion, what are you able to remember off the top of your head?”

“Oh,” Stepper blinked, surprised that someone was actually giving him a chance to speak his own piece for a change. “Well… let’s see… I remember meeting all of you, and fighting Peridot’s robots in the woods-”

“Yeah?” Mabel asked, suddenly hopeful at the recollection of a memory from weeks ago now.

“Then there was the time you wanted to research my shield journal,” Stepper said, keeping his focus on Ford before turning it over to Mabel. “Oh! And then we fused!”

“Yeah! Into Dipevebel!” Mabel grinned, gripping the fusion’s arm excitedly. 

“Right,” Stepper nodded with a smile. “Then there was that street race we were part of and… um… I… think that’s it? I can’t really remember anything else until I woke up in that fountain a few minutes ago.”

“Nothing?” Amethyst asked, dumbfounded. “Not even anything about how your gem got all busted up like that?”

“No,” the fusion shook his head, frowning as he glanced down at his damaged gemstone. “Do any of you know how it happened?”

The others fell silent at this, dread filling their expressions as they realized just how blissfully unaware of the immense trauma he’d just been through he really was. They would have preferred to keep him unaware on that particular front too, if not for the fact that the rest of his memories had faded along with the knowledge of what had taken them away from him in the first place. “Stepper, you’ve… been trapped in the Nightmare Realm for the past three days,” Pearl began to explain as carefully as she could. “We can only assume that it was there that Bill got ahold of you and caused grave damage to your gem a-and your memories.”

For the longest time, Stepper said nothing in response to this, his expression still lacking any sort of real understanding, which became even more apparent when he voiced that lack aloud. “Bill? Who’s that?”

“Y-you… you’re kidding, right?” Amethyst asked, baffled. “You know, Bill Cipher? Crazy talking one-eyed triangle? Tried killing all of us, like a bunch of times? Hijacked Dipper’s body once and wants to steal Steven’s gem? None of that’s ringing a bell for you?”

“N-no…” Stepper admitted apprehensively. “But… whoever he is, he sounds like a really bad guy.”

“‘Bad’ is certainly an understatement when it comes to Bill... “ Ford muttered disdainfully. 

“So the kid doesn’t remember who he’s made of,” Stan spoke up impatiently. “He doesn’t remember how it all happened, he doesn’t seem to really remember much of anything! Are we sure this isn’t some weird sort of amnesia situation?”

“O-or maybe he’s just been fused for such a long time that he’s lost himself…?” Pearl proposed. “Oh, but that wouldn’t make any sense, he’s only been fused for three days at most, after all.”

“It’s not entirely impossible though,” Ford pointed out. “Time moves differently in the Nightmare Realm than it does here in our dimension. It’s unpredictable, non-linear. What’s a few mere hours there could be days here, and vice versa, so there’s really no telling how long Stepper’s stint there might have been for him. Especially now that he doesn’t seem to remember it in the slightest.”

“Ugh, who cares about any of that?” Amethyst huffed indignantly. “How are we gonna fix this mess?!”

“Until Stepper regains his memories, there isn’t much of a chance that we can,” Garnet said, adjusting her shades. “He’s the only one who can tell us what happened after all. Well, aside from Bill, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d rather not hear it from him.”

“But we don’t even know how he lost his memories in the first place!” Pearl bemoaned fretfully. “How can we go about restoring them if we don’t even know what happened to them?”

From there, a round of debate over this problem broke out, with everyone largely talking over each other as they tried to form a cohesive plan of action. Amidst all this, Stepper sat in silence, trying his best to listen and understand a conversation that kept on going in endless circles, one that concerned him, yet he didn’t entirely know how. He knew well by now that the others were all upset, worried, angry, and afraid, but the reason why was beyond him, a reason obscured by names and events he didn’t know, things he couldn’t comprehend, no matter how hard he tried. At the very least, he could tell there was one thing they all agreed on: they wanted to help him, even if he wasn’t sure he even needed such help at all. 

At the same time, Mabel lingered close by the fusion’s side, her focus dedicated to him rather than the ongoing argument between the Gems and her uncles. The heightened, perhaps even petty tensions between them didn’t matter to her in the slightest; nothing did really, not as long as something was wrong with Stepper, as long as something was wrong with Steven and Dipper. And while everyone else debated over whatever logical, scientific, or brute force plans they could think of, Mabel began to develop one of her own, one based not on the many things they didn’t know about this daunting situation. But instead, a plan based on what she did know about her brother and her best friend. 

“Everyone, hold on a sec!” she shouted as she suddenly jumped onto the coffee table to grab everyone’s attention. “I’ve got an idea, and it’s a good one too!”

While a handful of the others took pause, exchanging an uncertain glance at this, Garnet was the first to prompt her onward. “Go ahead.”

“Ok, so you guys said we won’t be able to fix Stepper’s gem until he splits up first, right?” Mabel began, her tone intent and determined. “And Stepper can’t split up until he remembers who Steven and Dipper are? So that’s where we should start!” She grinned as she spun back around to face the fusion behind her. “By reminding you of who you’re made of!”

“But Mabel,” Stepper said with a small, exasperated sigh. “I’ve already told you, I can’t split up because I’m not a fusion.”

“You are a fusion, and I can prove it!” Mabel retorted, hands on her hips. “First of all, if you’re not a fusion, then why do you have four arms?”

“Uh… well…” Stepper trailed off with a frown as he looked down at his substantial set of hands.

“And how do you explain how you only remember three totally different days before now?” 

“I-I… I just…”

“And out of those three days, how come you only remember a few things about them?”

Stepper interrupted her with another heavy sigh, a hand placed against his now aching head as it struggled to fill in the gaps she kept suggesting to him. “L-Look, I get that not a lot of things are adding up here, but… I still don’t think I’m a fusion. And like I said before, I don’t know who… what were their names again? Sipper and Deven?” 

“Dipper and Steven,” Mabel corrected urgently. 

“Dipper and Steven,” Stepper repeated, the names sounding completely forign to him even as he said them aloud. “I don’t know who either of them are. And if I don’t know them, then how can I possibly be them?” 

“But you are them!” Mabel protested, practically to the point of pleading. “Here, I’ll show you.” With this, she rushed up onto Steven’s bedroom loft, finding his phone lying by his bed quite easily before she rushed it back to the fusion downstairs. “Look! Look at them!” she pulled up one of the many selfies Steven had taken of himself and Dipper, one from not too terribly long ago. “This is Steven, and this is Dipper. Don’t you recognize them? Can’t you see how much they look like you?!”

Stepper looked between the two boys in the photo for quite a long time, not a single sign of recognition showing up in his face even now that he could see some sort of depiction of his two apparent halves for himself. “N-no,” he said with a sad, yet honest frown. “I… I don’t know them. Either of them.” He hesitated in saying anything else, especially as he noticed tears starting to well up in Mabel’s eyes again, her expression overwhelmed with returning grief that she was trying her hardest to force away for his sake. “Mabel, I-I… I’m sorry.”

In an instant, Mabel rushed to wipe her tears away, pulling her shoulder away from the comforting grip Garnet attempted to put on it. “I-it’s ok,” she said, forcing on a reassuring smile. “Because we’re gonna figure this out. Looking at a picture is one thing, but maybe jogging your memories of them might work even better!”

“Uh, how are you gonna do that?” Amethyst asked, mirroring everyone else’s confusion at this plan. 

“I think you mean how are we gonna do that,” Mabel grinned confidently. “Even though Stepper might not know who Steven and Dipper are, that doesn’t mean we don’t! Same goes for everyone else who knows them. Plus, I don’t wanna brag, but we just so happen to have a bona-fide expert when it comes to Dipper here, someone who happens to have known him our entire lives…” Her smile grew as she pointed to herself proudly. 

“Oh! And we’ve known Steven for his entire life!” Pearl added with a newfound grin. 

“Yeah, exactly!” Mabel nodded zealously. “So between all of us, we can fill in all the gaps and remind Stepper who he’s really supposed to be so he can finally unfuse again!”

“But, Mabel,” Stepper attempted to protest in the hopes of voicing his own thoughts about this plan. “I-”

“Shh, it’s ok,” Mabel quieted him, cutting him off in the process. “There’s nothing you need to worry about, Ste-bro. We’ve all got this. We’ve got you.”

Stepper simply let out a resigned sigh at this, realizing once again that the chance for him to even get a simple word of edgewise had been ripped away from him. So instead, he remained quietly sitting on the sidelines while everyone else continued to discuss what they believed was best for him, what they believed he should remember, even if those were memories he knew he didn’t even have to begin with. 

“It’s a… novel idea, Mabel, but… I fear it might be too simple,” Ford noted with a frown. “After all, we’re still not even sure what Bill did to his memories, much less how to get them back. The case could be made that this is all connected to the crack in his gem, but-”

“Will you shut up already, Ford?” Stan asked with a disgruntled scowl. “The kid’s come up with just about the only actual plan I’ve heard thrown around here could actually have a shot at working. I say we give it a try.”

“Same here,” Garnet agreed. “It’s far better than doing nothing.”

“Yeah, but could it actually work?” Amethyst asked with an uncertain frown. 

Garnet shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” she said, finally mustering a smile for Mabel to show her confidence in her plan. 

“Well, I suppose in the meantime we could always continue looking further into the situation to see if there’s anything else we can do,” Pearl suggested. “J-just in case, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea!” Mabel surprisingly agreed. “You guys can keep looking at the sciency/Gem side of things, while I take over as the first official self-appointed Memory Captain?”

“Memory Captain?” Stepper spoke up, raising a confused eyebrow. 

“Yeah, ya know, cause I’m putting myself in charge of getting you your memories back, Ste-bro,” she grinned back at him. 

“Oh,” Stepper took a brief, tentative glance down. “Mabel, I-I don’t-”

“I know, I know, you don’t know what to say,” Mabel said with a knowing wave of her hand. “That’s fine, you can always thank me after you remember everything. Now come on,” she enthusiastically grabbed the fusion’s hand, pulling him off the couch as she headed for the door. “We’ve got a lot of work to do to get you back to normal.”

“Yes…” Ford muttered, fretfully looking over his notes as the pair headed out on their endeavor. An endeavor that had really no guarantee of working when it came to setting things right. “It seems as though we all do…”

“Ok, so you remember the day you first fused, fighting Peri’s robots… the time we fused… and when we raced Kevin and his friends… but you don’t remember what happened to you in the Nightmare Realm... did I get that all right?” Mabel asked, trying to make mental notes as the pair made their way down the hill toward the shack.

“Yeah, but I don’t really see what the big deal is?” Stepper shrugged. “I mean, those are all the things that have ever happened to me, right?”

“Those are all the things that have happened to Stepper…” Mabel mused with a dawning realization. 

“Yeah, which… is me,” Stepper nodded, silently wishing that everyone would stop referring to him as if he wasn’t actually present at all. 

“So, you only remember what’s happened while you were you,” Mabel continued down her newfound train of thought. “While you were fused! So… does that mean… you don’t remember anything that happened before this summer?!”

“I… don’t know. What happened before this summer?”

“Everything!” Mabel cried, spinning around to face him with a desperate, shaken expression. “Our whole lives! Dipper and me growing up together in Piedmont, Steven living here with the Gems. You have two entire lives that you just… don’t even remember anymore…”

Stepper wasn’t sure what to say to this as he glanced down apprehensively. Even if he felt far out of the loop in regards to what Mabel was saying, if there was one thing he did understand, it was that he hated seeing her so dejected and despondent. “Hey,” his voice was gentle as he knelt down to her level. “I may not really get what’s going on here with all of this memory stuff, a-and I may not know who… y-your two friends are. But, at least I still know you. Isn’t that enough?”

Mabel stilled, her pressing tears frozen from falling as she looked to the fusion with another wave of painful realization. “S-Stepper… do you know who I am to you?” she asked, almost scared to hear the answer. 

“O-of course I do,” Stepper stood, though even as he did his expression betrayed his bewilderment. “Y-you’re… um… I… you… you’re… someone really important to me…”

“Yeah, but how?” Mabel pressed. “How do you know me?”

Stepper stammered, shaking his head as he pressed a hand to his head, searching for an answer he couldn’t quite find. “I-I don’t know…” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper as he spoke. “I just… do…”

Mabel forced back a mournful sob at this, yet even so she rushed in to tightly embrace the fusion, who readily returned it, a fact that only served to strike at her aching heart even more than his answer already had. “It’s ok, Ste-bro,” she assured so quietly her voice was barely even audible. “I’ll help you figure it out.”

Even though he wasn’t entirely sure why, Stepper’s first thought was to thank her for her dedication, though he didn’t get much of a chance to before their hug was interrupted as something soft suddenly bumped into him from behind. “Huh?” he relinquished his hold on Mabel, turning to find the large pink beast standing behind him. “Ah! W-what is that thing?!” he exclaimed fearfully, rushing to take cover behind Mabel. 

“Uh, that’s just Lion,” Mabel said, stepping over to scratch the pink beast behind the ear. 

“Y-yeah, I know it’s a lion,” Stepper said, all four of his arms held in front of him defensively as he looked to Lion incredulously. “But why is it here? And why is it pink?”

“Wait,” Mabel frowned, pausing briefly to quiet Lion’s sudden quiet growling before she turned back to the fusion. “You mean… you don’t remember Lion either?”

“Uh, I’ve never seen that thing before,” Stepper said anxiously. “I’m pretty sure I would remember a huge pink lion.”

“But… Lion’s your…” Mabel trailed off before letting out a soft, stunned gasp. “Stepper’s never met Lion before…” she whispered, largely to herself. She was quick to shake the pressing thought of what or who else he might not remember away, instead taking the fusion by the hand once more to expedite their trip down to the Mystery Shack. “Come on,” she said, her tone rather solemn as they continued onward. “It looks like you’ve got more remembering to do than I thought…”

It didn’t take very long for the pair to reach the shack, with Lion trailing not too far behind them as he kept a close, somewhat distrustful watch on Stepper all the while. The fusion returned that watch, unsure of what the pink beast might do, even though Mabel assured him several times over that he was completely tame. Still, Lion was content enough to wait outside as Stepper and Mabel ventured inside the shack through the gift shop, though in doing so, they happened to encounter their pair of employees waiting around inside. 

“Oh! Mabel, you’re finally back!” Soos greeted with a smile as he took a break from sweeping. “How’s it goin’, hambone? Did you guys finally find Dipper and Steven?”

“From the looks of it, I’d say they did,” Wendy said, allayed as Stepper entered right behind Mabel. 

“Ah ah ah, correction, Wendy; that’s Stepper,” Soos pointed out. 

“Finally, someone gets it,” Stepper sighed somewhat wearily before he offered the pair a casual wave. “Hey, Soos. Hey, Wendy. What’s up?”

“Whaaaa?!” Mabel gasped, looking at the fusion in awe at this. “You remember Soos and Wendy but you don’t remember Lion?!”

“Uh… yeah, I guess?” Stepper said, still not sure of what the significance of that fact was. 

Though Mabel was baffled into silence at this, Soos and Wendy had their fair share of questions from the very start. “Whoa, hold on,” Wendy started first. “What do you mean remember?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t Stepper remember us?” Soos inquired, just as curious. “I mean, I know he’s a totally awesome Gem fusion, but he’s still Steven and Dipper, right?”

“Ugh… and there it is again…” Stepper muttered, crossing his lower arms upon hearing this bizarre claim once more. 

“Yeah, but… he’s the only one who doesn’t really think so anymore…” Mabel sighed sadly. “He doesn’t remember either of them. Or that he’s even a fusion at all…”

“What?!” Soos and Wendy exclaimed in shared alarm, both of them looking to Stepper in apt worry as they unloaded their flood of questions at a hectic pace. 

“So he doesn’t remember who he is? Dude…”

“What happened to him?”

“But he remembered us, so… what’s that all about?”

“Oh my gosh! Look at his gem! Who did that?”

“Does that hurt? Is he gonna be ok?”

“H-hey, I am ok,” Stepper finally spoke up to stem the tide of questions he had no answers for. “We’re-”

“We’re gonna get to the bottom of this and fix it,” Mabel cut him off, grabbing his arm once more as she began leading him through the gift shop. 

“Well, if you need any help, just ask,” Wendy offered firmly. 

“Yeah, anything for Steven and Dipper, dude,” Soos solidly agreed. 

But nothing for me, I guess… Stepper thought, not even bothering to voice the notion aloud this time. 

“Thanks, you guys,” Mabel called back as she continued pulling Stepper along. “We’ll keep you posted on what happens.”

Soos and Wendy offered the pair their well wishes as they headed out, with Mabel wasting no time in rushing upstairs to the attic with Stepper following not too far behind her. “Hey, Mabel?” he began tentatively as they arrived in the bedroom. “Can we, uh… talk for a second?”

“We sure can,” Mabel replied as she began looking through her half of the room. “Just as soon as I find--aha! Here it is!” She plopped down onto the rug on the floor with her summer scrapbook, motioning for Stepper to join her so he could take a look. “My scrapbook here is bound to help you remember something. Like this!” she pointed to a picture of Steven helping Dipper look through the journal quite some time ago. “This is the first picture I took of Steven and Dipper this summer. Back when we were trying to stop that red eye thingy from crashing into Gravity Falls. You remember that?”

“No, I… don’t,” Stepper shook his head, though Mabel was quick to continue. 

“O-ok, well, you’ve gotta remember this,” she turned to a page depicting all three of them playing with what seemed to be some sort of antique mirror. “When we found that mirror Lapis was trapped in and saved her? Then we saved the lake from her? Steven healed her and she went back to space, to Homeworld! And Dipper found her when she came back and me and him saved Steven and the Gems from Jasper and Peridot! It was huge, high-stakes, really dangerous, you’ve gotta remember that!”

“Mabel, I really wish I knew what you were talking about, but I don’t,” Stepper sighed, not recognizing a single moment among the countless photos she kept showing him. 

“Malachite! There’s no way you can’t remember Malachite!” Mabel kept going almost manically. “Dipper made a deal with Bill to try to free Lapis from her fusion with Jasper but Bill possessed his body. We saved him, and then it wasn’t too long after that that the portal Grunkle Stan was hiding under the shack opened and we met Grunkle Ford for the first time. Then we caught Peridot after she fused with Bill to make Pyrite; Steven and Dipper were the ones who stopped them! Then Dipper and the Gems stopped Malachite, while Peri, Steven, and I stopped the Cluster. We all saved the day! Everything should be fine now! B-but… it’s not…” She could feel her eyes growing wet with oncoming tears once more as she forced herself to look away from the proof of their triumph. A triumph that felt all but hollow now in light of what had just been lost. 

Stepper was quick to reach out a hand to comfort her, though he stopped short upon noticing one of the several pictures decorating the page of the scrapbook they were on. The same photo Mabel had shown him earlier at the temple, one of whom she had said were Steven and Dipper themselves. 

Carefully, while Mabel was distracted, Stepper lifted the photo out of the book to get a better view of it. He studied it carefully, taking in the pair of boys depicted on it, their shared smiles warm and cheerful as they stood with their arms resting on each other's shoulders. There was no doubt that, whoever they were, they were close, best friends perhaps, though he wasn’t quite sure. And while they did bear something of a passing semblance to him in different ways, even as Stepper stared at the photo for what felt like ages, not a single thing about either of these boys so much as minutely registered in his memories. He didn’t know them. He couldn’t be them. He wasn’t them. He knew that. 

And yet… he couldn’t deny the small burst of longing emptiness that filled him when he looked at them all the same. 

“Y-you can keep that if you want to,” Mabel suddenly spoke up, noticing just how captivated the fusion was by the photo. “Maybe it might help you remember them…”

Stepper didn’t respond to this, instead keeping his sights set on her as he tucked the photo safely away inside his vest. At the same time, Mabel took in a deep, steadying breath as she closed her scrapbook, a newfound smile overtaking her expression as she stood with another new idea in mind. 

“Well, if I can’t get you to remember, then maybe we can find someone else who can,” she concluded, grinning at Stepper as he also stood up. “And I just so happen to know a handful of people who are super important to Steven and Dipper that just might be able to help.”

“But Mabel, I-”

“I know you’re worried, Ste-bro,” Mabel said, taking his lower hands in hers. “T-to be honest, I am too. But I promise you, I’m not gonna rest until you’re back to who you’re supposed to be. Now let’s get going! We’ve got places to be and people to see!”

With that, Mabel ran off, leading the way and leaving Stepper with no real choice but to follow. Still, before he did, he hesitated, taking a moment to pull the photo of Steven and Dipper out one more time as he felt another wave of what almost felt like loneliness washed over him. Loneliness and perhaps, even a bit of bitterness as well. “Who I’m supposed to be…” he repeated softly to the photo, shaking his head before he ultimately put it away.

“Kon'nichiwa! You’ve reached Connie Maheswaran. I’m currently on a week-long vacation in Japan and don’t have international coverage, which is why I’m unable to answer your call at this time. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’ve returned to the country. Thank you and Sayōnara!”

“Ugh, of all the times for her to be on vacation…” Mabel muttered to herself as she listened to Connie’s voicemail before leaving her message. “Uh, h-hey, Connie. H-how’s Tokyo? Um, look, we’ve kind of got a bit of a… situation going on here, so if you do somehow manage to find somewhere where you have coverage before you get back, could maybe call me back, like… as soon as possible? Thanks, bye.”

Mabel let out a sigh as she hung up just as Stepper caught up with her along the trail that led toward town “Hey, who were you talking to?” he asked, curiously. 

“Connie,” she answered, letting out a sigh of disappointment. “Or at least I was trying to talk to her… It’s sort of hard to do since she’s on the other side of the ocean right now.”

“Connie…” Stepper repeated thoughtfully. “I know her.”

“You do?!” Mabel gasped with a bit of newfound hope. 

“Yeah,” the fusion nodded. “She was there during that race, just like you were, remember?”

“N-no, Stepper, she’s...” Mabel trailed off with a small sigh. “C-Connie’s one of our best friends. The four of us: me, Dipper, Steven, and Connie, we’re the Mystery Kids. You remember being one--or two I guess, of the Mystery Kids… right?”

“Mabel, I know you want me to say yes, but-”

“I-I know,” Mabel closed her eyes, largely in an attempt at blocking away tears. “You don’t. I-its ok. We’ll figure this out.”

“That’s what you keep saying…” Stepper muttered, rubbing one of his upper arms. 

“In fact, we might figure it out right now,” Mabel perked up as they finally arrived in town. Or rather, to the car wash sitting on the nearest edge of town. “Mr. Universe!?” she called as she ran up to the former rock star’s van and knocked on its back door. “Are you home?”

Fortunately, Greg was home as he burst out of the back of the van, disheveled and exhausted after days of a largely fruitless search for his missing son. “Oh! Mabel, it’s you,” he said, running a hand through his messy locks. “A-any word on the boys yet? Have the Gems found them?”

“Well, y-yeah, sort of…” Mabel replied rather anxiously as she glanced behind her to see Stepper joining them. “But…”

“Huh?” Greg looked to Stepper, initially confused before he quickly gathered who was standing before him. “Ohhh... I get it; they fused!”

“Heh, yeah…” Mabel let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Mr. Universe, t-this is Stepper.”

“Stepper, huh?” Greg said with a small sigh of relief as he stepped out of his van. “It’ve heard about you from Steven. Nice to finally meet you in person. And even better to see you’re both safe and sound.” 

At this, the fusion was caught off guard as the former rock star wrapped him into a tight, protective embrace. One that he didn’t really make any move to return. “Um… it’s nice to meet you too, sir,” he said stiffly, awkwardly even. 

“Sir?” Greg chuckled as he pulled away from the fusion, wiping away a few tears. “You don’t have to be so formal with me. I am your dad after all. I-in a way. Partially. I think? Hm…”

“Wait, you are?” Stepper asked, baffled by this information. 

“Yes…?” Greg’s smile was quick to disappear at this. “I mean, I’m definitely Steven’s dad, at least, so-”

“Uh, M-Mr. Universe?” Mabel interjected fretfully, hesitating to even deliver the horrific news to the former rock star at all. Even if she knew she had to. “Something happened and, um… well, Stepper doesn’t really… remember a whole lot right now. He doesn’t think he’s a fusion, a-and he doesn’t remember Steven or Dipper either…”

“W-what…?” Greg balked, aptly distraught as he looked Stepper over. “B-but he’s…” The former rock star let out a shaken gasp as he finally noticed the fusion’s fractured gemstone. “Y-your gem… what… what happened to it? Is this why y-you can’t…?”

Stepper had no answer for these almost tearful questions, though thankfully Mabel spoke to them instead. “It’s a… long story…” she sighed sadly. “Grunkle Ford and the Gems do think it is the reason why his memories are all wonky, b-but we’re trying to fix them, and I thought bringing him to you might help him at least remember Steven, but…”

“D-did it work?” Greg pressed, looking to Stepper with hope and desperation in his voice alike. “Do you remember me? D-do you remember Steven?”

Stepper could easily see the grief rising in the expression of the man standing before him, and though he couldn’t really claim to know this man, he still couldn’t help but feel guilty for that grief all the same. And yet, he didn’t dare lie to him, knowing that doing so, that giving him false hope for something that would ultimately be just an act, a falsehood, a meager attempt at replicating what he didn’t even truly believe he’d really lost. “N-no…” he admitted sympathetically, apologetically. “I don’t… I’m sorry.”

Try as he might, Greg was completely helpless against the heavy sob that escaped him as he collapsed to take a seat in the back of the van. His expression was rife with tearful grief as he averted his gaze away from the fusion that was partially composed of his son. His son, who didn’t remember his father, who didn’t even remember himself, it seemed. “W-why… how…” he choked out another sob, his face buried in his hands all the while. “H-how does he just… not remember who he is? T-that’s not how fusions work, r-right?”

“N-no, it’s not…” Mabel said quietly. “L-like I said, we don’t really know how this happened. B-but don’t worry; we’re all working on a way to figure this out and get his memories back. Aren’t we, Stepper?”

Stepper hesitated to give a proper answer to this, especially as he met Greg’s heartbroken gaze once more. While he had leaned into honesty earlier, the fusion couldn’t help but offer up something of a lie now, all in the hopes of easing that heartbreak at least a little. “R-right…” he said softly as he glanced away. 

“R-right,” Greg added with a small, resigned sigh. He offered the pair a grateful smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, particularly as he regarded Stepper once more. “Uh… I-I...better go check in with the Gems about all this.” He stood to head to the front of the van, clearly struggling to be near his “son” in such a forgetful state. “I-I’ll see you kids around…” 

The former rock star didn’t see much else before getting into the van and driving off toward the temple, in the hopes of getting a more complete picture of what was happening from the Gems. As well as further reassurance that something was being done to fix it. At the same time, Mabel and Stepper set out from the car wash, their manner equally solemn as they began to wander out toward the lake with no real set purpose in mind.

“Mabel?” Stepper began as he stopped, his expression awash in fretful woe. 

“Yeah, Stepper?” 

“I… I feel bad for that Mr. Universe guy…” the fusion glanced back at the direction Greg’s van had gone. “He was so… sad, just like you and the Gems were before. A-and I know you’re going to tell me it’s not, but… I know i-it’s all my fault…”

“Stepper, no,” Mabel was quick to reassure him as she grabbed his lower set of arms. “None of this is your fault; it’s Bill’s! You’re not-”

“I’m not who you want me to be,” Stepper said quickly, firmly as he pulled his hands away. “I’m just not. I’m sorry.”

“N-no, you… you are, you just don’t remember-”

“Mabel, please,” Stepper stopped her, letting out an irritated huff as he did. “Can we just sto-”

“Mabel?!”

The tension rising between the two fell apart as quickly as the conversation itself did as this call reached them from just a short way down the street. “Pacifica!” Mabel shouted back to the heiress as she ran up to her, phone in hand. 

“I-I just got your text,” Pacifica began breathlessly. “You said you found him? You found Dipper?!”

“W-well, yeah…” Mabel began tentatively. “But Pacifica, he’s not-”

“Where is he?!” the heiress pressed, immensely concerned for her boyfriend’s wellbeing. “Is he ok? Is he… he…” She trailed off, her eyes wide and her jaw dropped in awe as she happened to glance over at the fusion. Or, as far as she knew, the strangely four-armed, yet very handsome young man standing alongside Mabel. “H-hey…” she greeted him, her face suddenly feeling hot for reasons she couldn’t begin to explain. 

“Hi,” he offered her a small wave and a smile, one that practically made her melt when she thought about who it reminded her of. 

“Oh, uh… P-Pacfica, this is Stepper-” Mabel filled in, though she was quickly interrupted. 

“Stepper…” Pacifica repeated in the form of a small, almost wistful sigh. “You look familiar…”

“You… don’t,” Stepper replied, his smile faltering somewhat. 

“She should be familiar, Stepper,” Mabel sighed tiredly. “Pacifica is Dipper’s girlfriend. A-and, well, you see, Pacifica, Stepper here is a fusion.”

“Oh?” Pacifica was barely listening, her sights still set on Stepper as she broke out into a soft, fond smile. 

“Yeah, h-he’s actually… Steven and Dipper.”

“Oh,” the heiress blinked, this information finally breaking her out of whatever unintentional trance the fusion had somehow put her under. “Oh! Oh. Ohhhh my gosh, this is… embarrassing.” Her already palpable blush deepened exponentially as she finally tore her flustered gaze away from Stepper. “I… mean, if that’s true, then you are technically my boyfriend, but you’re also not, a-and, ugh, this whole fusion thing is so confusing, I don’t know how any of you manage to keep it all straight.”

“Well, most of the time, it’s pretty easy, but this is a little… different,” Mabel said, biting her lip. “For starters, Stepper… doesn’t really remember who Steven and Dipper are right now. A-and… I don’t think he would know who you are either, Pacifica, since Stepper has never met you for himself until now.”

“W-what…?” Pacifica asked in newfound fear, especially as she met Stepper’s rather oblivious expression once more. That fear only grew as she realized the only boy she’d ever truly liked, perhaps even more than liked, might very well be lost to her forever. “You… don’t know who I am?”

Stepper faltered, seeing that familiar kind of grief well up in the heiress’ eyes. Grief that he kept bringing to just about everyone he encountered, it seemed. “I… no, I don’t…” he answered simply, averting her pleading gaze. 

Those words might as well have been knives for how sharp and painful they were when they hit Pacifica’s heart. She usually wasn’t one to openly display her emotions in public, but right now, there was no stopping the steady tears that fell as she realized her fears were all-too true. “H-how… how did this happen?” she asked Mabel, trying to make sense of something so unimaginable. 

“Well, Steven and Dipper got sucked into a portal to the Nightmare Realm, where Bill-”

“Wait, what?” Pacifica interjected, confused. “Nightmare Realm? Bill? What are you talking about?”

“Ugh, seriously? Dipper’s never told you about Bill before?” Pacifica shook her head, eliciting another exasperated groan out of Mabel as she facepalmed. “How many times have I told him? The key to a healthy relationship is communication. Even if that communication is about a crazy, vengeance-driven dream demon who stole his body and tried killing all of us!” Her manner was still quite severe as she turned to Stepper, who was every bit as out of the loop as Pacifica currently was. “As soon as you remember yourself, you’re getting a stern talking-to about this, mister!”

“Um… what?” Stepper asked, absolutely lost.

“Anyway,” Mabel took in a deep breath as she turned back to Pacifica. “The whole thing’s kind of a mess, but-” She stopped short as she heard a sudden loud choke of a sob escape the heiress. “P-Pacifica?”

For her part, Pacifica had taken Stepper’s lower hands into hers, her expression awash in misery as she stared up into his sympathetic, but unknowing eyes. Eyes that were a far cry from those of the boy she had fallen for, and yet... “Y-you… look so much like him…” she whispered mournfully. “B-but you’re not him… are you?”

Stepper nearly answered this, but just before he could, Mabel was quick to step in with some much-needed reassurance. “He is Dipper. And Steven,” she said firmly, almost as if she was trying to convince herself of that fact too. “And I promise that I’m doing everything I can to help him remember that. To help him remember everything.”

This promise did serve to ease Pacifica’s frayed nerves a bit, though far from entirely when she thought about the possibility that there was still a chance, however unbearable, that Dipper might be gone for good. “I-is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’ll let you know if there is,” Mabel said, pulling the heiress into a comforting hug, one that she surprisingly accepted in her dejected state. 

“Thank you…” Pacifica whispered as she parted from Mabel, only to catch Stepper by surprise with a sudden embrace before she left. “Come back to me…” she whispered to him, or rather, to Dipper, someone who couldn’t even hear her to begin with. “Please…”

Stepper had no idea what to even say to this, even as Pacifica pulled away from him, tears still in her eyes as she silently began to walk away. He felt guilty as he watched her go, and though he would have even liked to have said that he felt longing, he didn’t. Because he didn’t know her. Because he didn’t know them. Because he didn’t know much at all, it seemed. 

Mabel said nothing to him as she turned to continue on her way. And once again, Stepper found that he had no choice but to follow. 

The next part of Mabel’s plan wasn’t exactly the most solid, but it was still a plan all the same, one that involved taking Stepper around Gravity Falls in the hopes that familiar places might somehow jog his missing memories. They started downtown, passing by spots Steven and Dipper had once frequented, from Funland Arcade to Greasy’s Diner to Gravity Fries to the museum. For his part, Stepper hardly noticed any of the peculiar glances that were sent his way over his extra set of arms. Instead, he went along for the ‘Grand Gravity Falls Tour’ as Mabel put it, quietly appreciating the sights she showed him and the stories behind each one. Stories that she claimed he had been a part of, or his supposed halves had, rather, even if he didn’t remember a single one. 

The lake and the forest were by far his favorite stops along the tour however. The lake’s peaceful waters were a much-needed comfort after the hectic day he’d been having. If it had been up to him, he would have spent the rest of the afternoon soaking up the warm summer sun on their soft, sandy shores, staring out across the glistening water all the while. But then Mabel pulled him into the forest, filled with secrets and magic and surprises at every turn, or at least that’s what she told him. Stepper, however, felt a different kind of magic wafting through the trees, one that was perhaps a bit mythical, but every bit as special all the same. The easy summer breezes were gentle as they blew through the trees, lightly skimming his face every bit as much as the small specks of sunlight spilling in through the trees above did. And for what felt for the first time amidst the few memories he had to his name, he actually noticed that breeze, noticed the birds chirping on the branches above him, noticed the sweet scent of summer blossoms, notice the bright blue vibrancy of the handful of forget-me-nots he casually picked along the way. 

And as he noticed it all, he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was to be there amidst it all. To be himself, even with barely any memories to speak of, even with gaping, glaring holes in what few memories he did have. To be someone somewhere as beautiful as this. Each new moment he lived in, each new memory he created he couldn’t help but treasure between the far too few he’d had before. And the more memories he made, however minute and minuscule they might have been, he couldn’t help but want to make more. He couldn’t help but want to be more, to show everyone that he was more than just two faces he still couldn’t quite place. Two faces that everyone kept telling him he was when the only glimpse he’d ever had of them was by way of a simple faded photograph. 

Despite what everyone kept telling him, what everyone wanted out of him, Stepper couldn’t help but want to be nobody else other than himself. 

The sun was setting by the time the pair found themselves arriving back at the Mystery Shack, though they soon found that they weren’t the only ones doing so. For just as they were approaching the shack, a certain green Gem happened to suddenly faceplant right into the lawn before them. Peridot quickly recovered, however, pulling herself to her feet as she rushed over to Mabel first. 

“Maaaaaaabel! I received your textual communication via the ‘interweb’,” she frantically explained, pulling her tablet out. 

“Uh… you mean the email I sent you?” Mabel frowned, confused. 

“Yes!” Peridot nodded vigorously. “And it looks like it’s true. You really did find Steven and Dipper after all! Though do they really need to be fused into, ugh, the Stepper?”

“It’s good to see you too, Peridot,” Stepper regarded the green Gem almost dryly. 

“W-well, at least you remember Peri,” Mabel said to the fusion with something of a forced grin. 

“Remember me?” Peridot raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Before Mabel could get a chance to explain, Lapis suddenly flew in, her manner tense and anxious as she let her aquatic wings disappear the moment she landed. “You said Dipper and Steven are back,” she grabbed Mabel by the shoulders, her eyes wide as they betrayed her clear worry just as much as her tone did. “We’ve been out looking for them all day and night. Are they ok? Where are they?!”

“Uh, well…” Mabel trailed off, unsure of how to explain the situation to Lapis, of all Gems, as she briefly glanced over at Stepper. 

“Wait, w-what?” the blue Gem’s gaze jumped to the fusion as well. “Who is this? What’s going on?”

“That’s the Stepper,” Peridot remarked, crossing her arms. 

“Stepper?” 

“H-he’s a fusion,” Mabel explained apprehensively. “O-Of… Dipper and Steven.”

Lapis gasped, taking a stumbling step back away from Stepper upon hearing this, even though her focus remained on him all the while. “W-what? D-Dipper and Steven can fuse? B-but how? Wait… w-why is their gem cracked?! Can’t they heal it like Steven did for mine?! Does it hurt? C-can you unfuse?! Can you-”

“Um… a-actually, Lapis,” Mabel winced, well aware of the panic welling up in the blue Gem’s eyes. “S-Stepper can’t unfuse right now. N-not with his gem like, well, t-that…”

Lapis shuddered, gripping the fusion’s upper arms tightly as she pleaded with him almost painfully. “C-can either of you hear me in there?!” she asked tightly, desperately as Stepper met her anxious gaze with startled surprise. “It’s ok! You can unfuse! You don’t have to be stuck together like I was stuck to-” She cut herself off, shaking her head against the remnant terror even just thinking of Malachite always managed to bring her. “P-please, just… unfuse, for me. I need to see you, both of you. Please.”

Stepper frowned at this, faced with another pang of guilt he had no idea how to ease as he pulled himself away from the frantic blue Gem. “I-I’m sorry but… do I know you?” 

“Oh no…” Mabel whispered worriedly as she watched Lapis freeze up in shock over such a piercing question. 

“W-what… what are you talking about?” the blue Gem asked, her entire body trembling with dread by this point. “O-of course you know me. Both of you do! It’s me: Lapis! R-remember?!”

“I-I don’t, but please, d-don’t feel bad about that,” Stepper tried to ease her obvious despair. “I’ve been meeting a lot of new people today, so-”

“I’m not a new person, NOT to either YOU!” Lapis shouted at him, suddenly furious as she turned to interrogate Mabel. “What’s the matter with them!? What happened?!”

“I-it was Bill,” Mabel answered, flinching over just how enraged Lapis was amidst her grief. At the same time, she heard Peridot let out a poignant squeak of fear the moment the dream demon’s name was so much as mentioned, understandable after what he’d put her through before. 

“T-that demon Dipper told me about the other day?” Lapis asked, her eyes narrowing. 

“Y-yeah,” Mabel nodded gravely. “Steven and Dipper got sucked into his dimension a-and they must have fused to try and fight him b-but… he cracked Stepper’s gem and we’re thinking that might have done something to his memories? But… we’re not sure. I’ve been working on helping him remember stuff all day, but-”

“H-he did this to them…” Lapis suddenly spoke, her voice but a low, intense whisper as her hands tightened into tense fists at her sides. “Wasn’t it enough for that… that monster to steal Dipper’s body?! He had to crack Steven’s gem too!? And now he’s got them both trapped... in a fusion of all things, without any of their memories?!” Lapis’ breathing was harsh and heavy as she paced around hotly, her hands pressed against her head as her anger only seemed to rise toward a rapid boiling point. 

“L-Lapis?” Peridot dared to speak up, reaching a trembling hand toward the blue Gem, though it never reached her. 

“We have to get their memories back,” Lapis said rigidly, still absolutely livid as she spun around to face the others. “And we have to make him pay for what he’s done to them. I wasn’t around to protect them from him before but I am not about to let him get away with hurting either of them any more!”

“L-Lapis…” Mabel attempted to interact before Peridot spoke up in her place. 

“A-are you crazy?!” she asked, terrified and incredulous. “You can’t just go up against someone like…” she hesitated, letting the dream demon’s name out in a feeble whisper, lest he was somehow listening in. “B-Bill Cipher. He’s a madman! A lunatic, who-”

“I don’t care!” Lapis snapped fiercely. “I told Dipper that I would never let that guy mess with him again, and I meant that. I don’t care if I have to go face him all by myself, I will, for them, to get back what they lost. Wouldn’t you?”

Peridot flinched at such a harshly asked question, one that she was hard pressed to answer given her prior daunting experience with the dream demon in question. “I-I…” she hesitated, and that was all the ammunition Lapis needed. 

“Don’t you care about them?!” she accused, overwhelmed by her fury more than anything else. Fury that she had to place somewhere, even if she couldn’t actually fire it at the one who really deserved it at the moment. “Don’t either of them matter to you?! Why wouldn’t you want to do anything in your power to help them!?”

“I-I do!” Peridot protested earnestly. “O-of course I do! I-I want to help them, just like you do, but I-I just… I… I can’t…”

“Why not?” Lapis hissed between gritted teeth. 

Peridot paused, her eyes wide with fear as she glanced over at Mabel. For her own part, Mabel was quite shaken by the intensity of the ongoing argument, as was Stepper, even if he was largely lost when it came to its subject. Still, Mabel offered Peridot a silent nod of solidarity, prompting her to finally have a discussion with Lapis that she’d been trying to avoid since they’d moved into the barn together. A discussion she’d been trying to avoid having with anyone, really. 

“S-Stepper, it’s… getting kinda late,” Mabel whispered to the fusion as she began to lead him back toward the shack. “W-we should head inside…”

Stepper didn’t argue, though as he left with Mabel, he did cast a silent, sympathetic glance over his shoulder at the pair of Gems that remained outside as Peridot began to weave a story of woe that she believed was best left forgotten. “I-I… suppose I just come right out and say it…” the green Gem glanced down guiltily. “I’ve… fused with… with Bill Cipher before…”

Needless to say that Lapis was stunned upon hearing this, her former fury stalled as an entirely new type of anger filled in its place. “You… what?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“I-It was a mistake! A-a complete and total mistake that I’m incredibly ashamed of, you need to know that above all else!” Peridot implored her anxiously. “H-he promised me he’d get me back to Homeworld, h-he said he was working in league with the Diamonds (and he is by the way, that’s just about the only thing he wasn’t lying about). But he-””

“A-and you said yes?! You let him fuse with you?!” Lapis asked, baffled. 

“I-I understand how foolish it sounds in retrospect, b-but at the time, Pyrite seemed like the perfect proposition!” Peridot took a nervous step back. “I-it wasn’t of course, e-especially after he took control a-and forced me to the wayside. H-he essentially trapped me inside my own gem with him! T-that’s just what he does, from what I’ve heard. He traps you in situations you can’t get out of, n-not without having to ask him for his “help”. That’s what he did to me, a-and I’m willing to bet that’s what he did to Steven and Dipper too…”

Lapis’s anger finally cooled somewhat at this, her expression falling into sudden solace at this as she let out a long, remorseful sigh over her previous thoughtless behavior. “P-Peridot, I… I had no idea…” she said quietly. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“You’re not the one who needs to be sorry,” Peridot’s manner turned resolved as she offered the blue Gem a supportive smile. “I-I may not be strong or brave enough to face Cipher again, but Lapis, you… I know you are, for both of us! If there’s anyone who can help Steven and Dipper now, it’s you. Well, and Mabel and Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and Ford and--”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” Lapis said with a small chuckle. 

“B-but I also want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever I can to help on this end of things,” Peridot affirmed. “So, what do you say we figure out how to take a dastardly demon down a peg?”

“I’m in,” Lapis readily agreed, calling upon her wings before she took Peridot’s hands and hoisted her up into the air. And together, both Gems headed off toward the Crystal Temple, hoping that they weren’t too late to join the cause to stop Bill and save Steven and Dipper in the process. 

For the rest of the evening, neither Stan nor Ford were anywhere to be found; the same could be said of the Gems, and though Mabel half wanted to look for them, she knew she had nothing new to report to them anyway. Stepper’s lack of memories was still just as apparent as it had been from the time they’d found him earlier that day. A painful reminder that only got all the more agonizing whenever she happened to bring up something the fusion had no recollection of, only to receive yet another blank stare, another question of confusion, another piece of proof that he had lost touch with who he really was. 

So eventually, Mabel stopped trying, at least for tonight, as exhaustion finally began to catch up with her. After all, while Steven and Dipper had been missing, she hadn’t exactly been getting the best sleep, if any at all. And though she still felt incredibly restless and anxious, she knew weighing herself down by tiredness would do nothing to help Stepper, Steven, or Dipper alike. So she decided to turn in early for the night, encouraging Stepper to do the same as she led him back up to the attic. 

“S-so… it’s been a pretty long, less than successful day, b-but that alright,” Mabel let out a sharp breath as she jumped up onto her bed. “We can always keep trying tomorrow and who knows? Maybe a good night’s sleep will help you out in the memory department.”

“Uh… right…” Stepper said halfheartedly as he took to the empty bed across from her. He slipped off his vest and cap and made an attempt at laying out on the bed, only for his legs to end up dangling over the edge rather substantially. “Huh. Bed’s too short…”

“Ha! That’s exactly what we said!” Mabel chuckled as she began to tuck herself in. 

“What who said?”

Mabel’s fond smile was quick to fade at this, not even really needing to ask herself whether or not Stepper would even remember Maven in his current state. After all, the only thing he really seemed to remember in any sort of detail was himself. “N-no one…” she said with a small, sad sigh as she rolled onto her other side to face away from the fusion. “It’s... no one…”

“Mabel?” Stepper pressed, though he received no answer from her this time. So instead, he let out a soft sigh of his own as he turned the desk lamp off and laid down, his feet still hanging off the edge of the bed as all four of his hands rested against his chest. Briefly, he glanced down at the cracked gemstone on his stomach, its fractured, dull pink looking paler than ever against the moonlight shining in through the window above him. 

He wasn’t sure he entirely believed in his connections to the people who claimed to know him that he’d never even seen before and he sincerely doubted the idea of him being a fusion between two boys he didn’t know a thing about. But if there was one thing Stepper was certain of, it was the deep, unhealable crack in the stone on his gut. A crack that he hadn’t the faintest idea about where it came from. Everyone claimed that “Bill” person was responsible for it, but Stepper didn’t know him, didn’t know anything of him other than the claim that he was bad news and everyone who knew of him seemed to hate him relentlessly. And even if that was what everyone was claiming, Stepper still wanted to know for himself, still wanted to reclaim that apparently missing memory above all else. Because unlike his supposed identity as “Steven” and “Dipper” there was at the very least, actual proof that crack actually existed--he didn’t need to look any further than his stomach for that. Yet for as present as the crack itself was, it was still such a mystery to him, a mystery that he wanted to solve, that he felt like he needed to solve to fill that lingering, aching sense of emptiness within him. Far more than he needed to know the two boys everyone kept telling him he was. 

And then, suddenly, completely out of nowhere, a flash. A sharp and sudden gasp he took in as a burst of unknown, yet somehow familiar pain seized him. And with that pain, with that gasp, came that flash, like a dream, no a memory of something he didn’t recognize, something he didn’t know. Something sharp and dark, plummeting toward him, toward his gem as it touched it. As it slammed into it. 

As it cracked it.

And that was it. That was all he saw, all he was allowed to see. Because just like that it was over and he was back in the present, back in the bedroom, back in the mystery that left him perplexed and distressed and confused, feelings he’d been awash in all day. The only positive he could see was that the brief bout of pain he’d felt faded as though it had never fallen upon him whatsoever. But that hardly left him comforted when he considered where it had come from to begin with. He noticed that a few more cracks expanded over his skin surrounding his gem, thin pink lines tracing across his stomach as they further fractured a story that he only had the sparsest of pieces of. 

A story, a mystery he wondered if he’d ever truly be able to piece together to create the complete picture to.

Staying up all night was hardly anything new to either the Gems or Ford; it was something they had used to do together quite frequently back in their days of working on the portal together, however ill-fated that work ended up being. But their latest all-nighter had been spent on a much more important cause to all of them; namely, figuring out exactly what had happened to Stepper and how to fix it. 

“What do ya mean you don’t know?!” Amethyst huffed in extreme annoyance. The Gems stood anxiously by while Ford paced around his lab in the shack’s lowest level, his intensive search through all of his notes proving to be rather fruitless by most accounts. “Aren’t you supposed to know like, everything there is to know about Bill? You guys were good buddies back in the day after all, right?”

“I would hardly say that,” Ford scoffed bitterly. “And besides, Bill is an enigma, his true intentions in any given situation are anyone’s guess--well, aside from the fact that they’re always self-serving.”

“But what would Bill have to gain by doing this to Stepper?” Pearl asked, desperate for any sort of answers at this point. 

“His gem,” Garnet guessed. “Steven did say Bill tried taking it from him in his dream once before. Though we still don’t know why he’d want it in the first place.”

“But if Steven’s gem was what Bill was after, then certainly he would have taken it while he had the boys alone, without anyone to protect them,” Ford shook his head. “And I hate to even think about it, but it would have been easy for him to do so in the Nightmare Realm. He isn’t confined to the immaterial plane there like he would be here.”

“But he didn’t take the gem,” Pearl mused worriedly. “He cracked it… If he wants it so badly, why would he damage it on purpose? It doesn’t make any sense! Then again, considering this is Cipher we’re talking about, that’s hardly surprising…”

“Ok, so let’s just say Bill doesn’t want Steven’s gem after all,” Amethyst interjected, her arms crossed as she leaned up against a wall. “Why would he mess with Stepper’s memories and then just send him back here? I mean, the guy totally hates all of us, including Steven and Dipper. If he really wanted to mess with us in just about the worst way possible, he could have-”

“We know, Amethyst,” Ford interrupted, raising a hand to stop her before she could even voice such an awful thought aloud. “We know…”

“The crack in his gem must be connected to his lost memories and sense of identity,” Garnet theorized carefully. “But a fusion forgetting they are a fusion… it’s something I’ve even heard of before. The only explanation for that I can think of could be that Stepper’s mostly human. And that the crack is no longer damaging him physically only thanks to Rose’s fountain. But his mind… his memories… are still every bit as fractured as his gem itself is…”

“So… all we gotta do is figure out a way to heal his mind then?” Amethyst proposed, hopeful. “Easy.”

“So far that’s turning out to be easier said than done based on how Stepper was acting earlier…” Pearl noted fretfully. “As far as he was apparently concerned, Steven and Dipper might as well have not even ever existed!”

“He’s got to remember them eventually,” Garnet sighed, adjusting her shades. “That could be first and the only key to solving this.”

“A-and if it isn’t?” Amethyst dared to ask. It was a question none of the others even had an answer to however, for the possibility that Stepper simply remembering who he truly was not being enough to save him, to save them, was almost just as unimaginable as him not remembering them at all. 

“Regardless, I’m still troubled by Bill’s role in all this,” Ford continued with a sigh as he sank into his seat at the desk before where the portal had once sat. “He’s an absolute sadist, sure, but I don’t think he would have cracked Stepper’s gem without a reason, especially if he considers that gem to be a prize for him to obtain eventually. He had to have an ulterior motive, something else that he wants to…” The author trailed off, his eyes growing wide as he glanced up at the small desk cabinet just in front of him. A cabinet which was currently home to something else he knew without a doubt Bill wanted to get his hands on. 

“Stanford?” Pearl inquired, concerned. 

“I-I… I think I know why Bill did this…” Ford muttered, his tone shaken as grief started to slip into it. Grief over a secret he found he could keep no longer, at least not from the Gems. Not after what the burden of that secret had apparently done to two boys he cared so deeply about. “A-a few weeks ago I decided to entrust both Dipper and Steven with the knowledge of something I haven’t told anyone else about… until now…”

The Gems exchanged a confused glance as they watched Ford unlock his desk cabinet, only to pull out something that stunned all three of them alike. “Whoa…” Amethyst’s jaw dropped at the sight of the small, contained mass of moldable space. 

“F-Ford…” Pearl gasped, shocked by its sheer radiance. 

“That’s…” Garnet trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“I-its an interdimensional rift torn in space time,” Ford explained solemnly, his grip on the rift tight and secure. “I discovered it after dismantling the portal a-and of course I immediately did my best to contain it but… it still stands as a way, however small, for Bill to get into our dimension, just as much as the portal was before it. And, well… I don’t put torturing Steven and Dipper to get information as to its whereabouts out of them past Bill, quite frankly. So-”

“So you just knew about this incredibly dangerous rift all this time, and you didn’t even think to tell us about it?!” Pearl asked hotly, Garnet and Amethyst clearly sharing her frustration right off the bat. 

“Of course, I thought about it,” Ford countered as sternly as he could, though he knew defending his decision was going to be difficult. “I just… didn’t. Obviously.”

“But you told Steven and Dipper about it!” Amethyst pointed out harshly. “You know, two kids. What did think they were gonna do to protect this dumb thing if Bill ever came after it? Yeah, I know they can both fight and fuse, but come on, man, what were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking it was the right thing to do,” Ford said, desperately trying to believe that was still true, that it still was. But considering Stepper’s current condition… he didn’t entirely think that was a conviction he’d be able to hold onto for much longer. “I-I… I just thought that the fewer knew about it, the less danger it would pose.”

“You thought wrong,” Garnet finally spoke, her tone rigid, livid. She took a sudden step forward, catching the author off guard as she grabbed him by the collar of his sweater to hoist him up out of his seat. “Because look at where we are now, Stanford. Look at what’s happened to Stepper, to Steven and Dipper! He’s cracked, broken, stuck together; he doesn’t even remember who he’s made of! By burdening those boys--our boys--with this kind of dangerous information, you forfeited their safety. By not telling us about the rift in their stead, by not trusting us like you should have, you kept us from protecting them. And in doing so, you showed how little you really care about either of them. And how selfish you really are.”

With this, Garnet shoved Ford back into his seat, leaving him stunned and speechless as she began to make her way toward the elevator with Pearl and Amethyst following right behind her. None of the Gems had anything more to say to the author, yet he still wasn’t quite done as he carefully put the rift away and began to trail after them. “W-wait,” he implored, his voice weak and weary. The Gems did stop just as the elevator opened before them, each of them sending a cold glare back his way. Ford didn’t make much of an effort to apologize, knowing that such an effort would be meaningless against what they were facing. So instead, he made a request that he knew he had no business even asking of them, especially not now. Yet for the sake of the greater good, that’s exactly what he did anyway. “I… Please, d-don’t tell anyone else about the rift. Until we figure out a way to neutralize it for good, like I said before, it’s safer, less exposed, if fewer people know about its existence…”

For what seemed like ages, the Gems didn’t respond to this plea, but in the end, Garnet simply nodded her cold affirmation to it. “Whatever,” Amethyst also agreed with a quiet scoff. “Guess your stupid secret’s safe with us.”

“Yes,” Pearl said bitterly as all three of the Gems piled into the elevator to leave the author behind. “At least then, no one else can stand to get hurt simply from knowing about it like Steven and Dipper already have…”

And indeed, they already had been, something that Ford lamented as he was left alone in the empty darkness of his lab. The boys had been hurt, damaged, forgotten, possibly even beyond the point of remembrance by the very fusion they were both a part of. And for as much as Ford would have wanted to blame Bill for all of that, at the end of the day, he knew the Gems were right; he only really had himself to blame. 

“Okey-dokey, Ste-bro,” Mabel was bright and cheery as ever the next morning as she bounded downstairs, with Stepper following a decent pace behind her. “We’re officially back on what I like to call “Memory Patrol”. I’ve got a whole day planned out that’ll get you back to remembering everything in no time. And that day starts with a delicious morning meal with all of Steven and Dipper’s favorite breakfast treats! Grunkle Stan!” 

This call was easily enough to startle Stan awake from his spot in the recliner in the living room. The book he’d checked out of the library the previous day entitled “Memory Loss: Treatment and Talking About It With Loved Ones” fell off his face as he bolted upright in alarm. “Ugh, huh…? What is it? You need somethin’, pumpkin?” he asked Mabel as she poked her head into the den. 

“Yeah! I need you to help me put together the best breakfast ever,” she grinned as she ran over to pull him out of his seat. “One that’s gonna be the trick to getting Stepper to remember everything, I just know it!”

“Wait… you mean the poor kid still doesn’t remember who he is?” Stan asked incredulously, sparing a worried glance at the aforementioned fusion as Mabel dragged him toward the kitchen. “...What the heck am I gonna tell your parents?” 

“You won’t have to tell ‘em anything ‘cause we’re fixing all of this today,” Mabel proclaimed, confident yet largely more hopeful that they would. Because if they didn’t, if they couldn’t… she couldn’t even stand to think about what would happen. “Now c’mon. Let’s get cooking!”

For his part, Stepper didn’t join the pair in the kitchen as they began prepping breakfast. Instead, he took to casually wandering around the shack, not having any real destination in mind, even as he eventually made it to the gift shop. He couldn’t help but smile a bit as he looked over the various nick-nacks and chachkies stocked up on display, though he did stop upon finding one certain shelf containing several hats, caps to be precise, much like the very one he was wearing. One of those hats in particular happened to catch his eye, one that, instead of being noticeably blank like his was, bore the prominent image of a blue pine tree upon it. Stepper picked it up, examining that pine tree with a sense of what almost felt like nostalgia, that persistent feeling of emptiness starting to spark within him once more. 

And then, another flash, this time in sound that seemed to echo from nowhere and everywhere all at once as pain flushed out from his gemstone once more. 

“Pine Tree.” “Rose Bud.”

“Pine Bud.” “Rose Tree.”

He stumbled back, the hat falling out of his grip as he pressed a hand to his head. The sharp, vibrant pain was gone but he remembered it vividly, though what had come along with it was still nothing more than a mystery covered by a mist that was far too thick for him to even try to see through. Just as so many things seemed to be for him, really. 

Stepper was startled once more, this time by the vending machine on the other side of the gift shop opening up almost like a door. As confused by that alone as he was, Stepper watched as the Gems emerged from that doorway, their expressions mutually exhausted and frustrated, for reasons the fusion could only really begin to guess. “H-hey, you guys,” he greeted the trio with a small smile. “Is everything ok?”

The Gems let out a shared, tired sigh at this as they all looked to Stepper sadly. “Eh… gotta admit, it would be a little better if you could actually remember anything about Steven and Dipper,” Amethyst admitted, catching a glare from Pearl for being so overt and tactless. “Any luck with that, dude?”

Stepper frowned, taking in the Gems’ weary manner as he wished there was actually something he could do to ease it instead of add onto it for a change. “...Would you all feel better if I said yes?”

There was another sigh, namely from Pearl and Amethyst this time as Garnet shook her head, placing a consoling hand on the fusion’s shoulder. “You don’t need to lie to appease us, Stepper,” she said, offering him a small, encouraging smile. “If nothing else, we’re just happy to have you safely back from the Nightmare Realm.”

“The Nightmare Realm…” Stepper repeated, his eyes wide with newfound curiosity. “That’s where you guys said my gem was cracked right? Could you maybe tell me more about what happened there?”

“We really… can’t, Stepper, we weren’t there…” Pearl began, though her eyes grew wide as a sudden pertinent realization struck her. “But YOU were! And if you can remember everything that you’ve been through as a fusion, then certainly you must at least still have some memories of what happened to you there!”

“B-but… I already told you, I don’t-”

“Stepper,” Garnet interjected as she placed both of her hands firmly on his shoulders, following along with Pearl’s plan. After all, in light of everything else, it was really the only thing they could possibly attempt at this point. “Listen carefully. We need you to try to remember what happened to you in the Nightmare Realm.”

“W-what?” Stepper asked, daunted by such a task. “I… can’t, I don’t even know what that place is, much less what might have happened there.”

“You do,” Garnet insisted, her grip on his shoulders tightening out of the slightest bit of desperation. “Somewhere deep in your mind, the memory of it still has to exist. And that memory might be the only way we can figure out what happened to you, to your gem, and to your memories. So please, try to think about what happened… so we can help you.”

While Stepper largely believed what the Gems were asking of him to be impossible, he was hard pressed to say no to their pleading gazes. Almost as if all of their hopes for answers rested solely on his shoulders. And really, seeing as how he was looking for many of the same answers too, he knew he at least owed it to them and to himself to at the very least make the attempt, however difficult it might be. “O-ok… I’ll try…”

Unsure of how to proceed, Stepper opted to close his eyes and take in a deep breath, blocking everything else out as he only focused on thoughts of the Nightmare Realm, a place he didn’t know, didn’t remember. And for what seemed like ages, no memories were seeming to come to him until… 

Another flash, another burst of pain, far more intense than before as his broken gemstone seemed to pulse with agony both internally and externally. And with that flash and that pain came the memory he’d been searching for, for the first time clear as crystal as it played out in beats, like a song without a melody. Like a tune his heart had forced him to forget. 

“What I want is something only you can give me, Rose Tree…”

Shield-

“W-why would you want that?”

-Journal.

“I just wanna see you lose your prized, precious weapon for good."

Shield-

“Sounds like a small price to pay to see your friends and family again and NOT die a slow, painful death in a literal nightmare dimension, dontcha think?”

-Journal.

“I'd rather lose that book forever then lose you forever…"

Shield-

“That's it, right? Nothing more along with it? No strings attached?”

-Journal.

“None at all, Rose Tree! You’ll be home before you know it.”

Shield-

“But… if all I stand to lose is my shield journal for a chance to go home and get as far away from you as possible, then… I’ll take it…”

-Journal.

“I knew we'd be able to work something out, Pine Bud. Now… pay up."

And he did. He paid the price for his return. A price that cost him far more than he ever could have imagined…

“My shield journal!” Stepper gasped, practically falling onto the floor as he was forced out of that horrific memory. Garnet caught him just in time to keep him steady, but even so, the fusion was trembling, the cracks across his stomach expanding even more, just as they had last night, though he was really the only one to notice. “M-my journal…” he repeated, his eyes wide with panic as he continued reeling from what he’d just seen. “I-it’s gone…”

“What?!” Pearl and Amethyst exclaimed in baffled unison. 

“But… how? Can’t you just summon it like you always do?” Amethyst asked incredulously. 

“N-no, I… I don’t have it anymore,” Stepper explained hectically as Garnet helped him stand properly once more. “I gave it away to some… triangle guy. H-he only had one eye and he-”

“B-Bill…” Pearl interrupted, terror and disdain mingling in her tone. “You… you gave your weapon away to Bill?”

“That was Bill?” Stepper asked, still largely unfamiliar with the being his memories had shown him. “But… he said he’d help me get home if I gave him my journal, and… I am home, right? So… he did what he said.”

“No, he didn’t,” Ford suddenly broke into the conversation that he’d been listening in on from the other side of the vending machine door. As he emerged from it, the Gems all offered him brief, bitter glances, though he didn’t speak to any of them as he kept his focus on Stepper, hoping to at least try to set right all of the things he’d done wrong. “Bill lied to you, Stepper, just like he lies to everyone. He may have somehow gotten you back to this dimension, but by taking your shield journal away from you, I fear he might have stripped you of your very identity in the process.”

“My identity…?” Stepper asked, confused. “Uh… how? It’s just a book, right?”

“...Stepper, tell me, what do you remember when it comes to your shield journal?”

“Uh… well, I know how to make shields using it… and… um…”

“Do you happen to remember what’s actually on the pages of that journal?” Ford pressed, though unfortunately, Stepper had no answer other than a small shake of his head. “Just as I feared… Stepper, your shield journal is very unique when it comes to other fusion weapons. Based on what I was able to study of it before, it’s pages are composed entirely of information about you, or rather, about who you’re made of. Half of it is about Steven, while the other half is about Dipper. I have reason to believe it’s tied not just to your gem, but your mind, your very existence as a fusion.”

“But I’m not-”

“I don’t know how we didn’t think of this before…” Ford interrupted, still intent on his developing theory as he delivered his final, grim verdict. “Don’t you all see? That journal tells the complete story of who Steven and Dipper are on their own, and joining those stories together makes them Stepper. So when Bill took the journal away from him, he also took away all those stories, every ounce of knowledge Stepper once had of either of his component halves. He didn’t just take away Stepper’s memories of Steven and Dipper. He took away their very identities altogether.”

This information hit all three of the Gems hard, each of them stunned into silence as they tried to make sense of such a horrific thought. The thought that Steven and Dipper were far more lost than they ever could have realized. 

“His gem,” Garnet spoke first, her tone tight and barely restraining the tranquil fury she was feeling. “That’s why it’s still cracked. The fountain may have healed the worst of it, but it couldn’t restore what he’s lost. Without that journal, without Steven and Dipper… Stepper is incomplete.”

“I-Incomplete?” Stepper interjected, alarmed by the very implication. 

“That’s bound to be what’s keeping him from unfusing too…” Ford noted gravely. “There’s nothing left for him to unfuse into.”

“But I already told you all,” Stepper attempted to speak up. “I can’t-”

“But,” Ford cut him off as he began running with another, much more hopefully theory. “If we were to get his journal back to him, then there’s reason to believe that might be enough to restore his knowledge of his halves, fix his gem, and help him unfuse all in one fell swoop.”

“Whoa, hold on-” Stepper tried to break into the conversation once again, but by this point he’d all but been forced out of it entirely. 

“So what?” Amethyst asked. “Are we just supposed to take a trip into the Nightmare Realm and beat the bricks outta Bill until he hands the book back over to us?”

Ford sighed, far from keen on the idea of venturing back to a place he had such awful memories of, even if he knew such a trip was extremely necessary now. “At this point, I’m not sure what other options we have…”

“B-but… how would we even get to the Nightmare Realm?” Pearl asked, daunted by the very thought of facing off against Bill in his domain. “The portal’s gone, a-and that rift…”

“We can’t risk that,” Ford quickly shot the idea down. “But we could always use the rift’s energy signature to lock onto the Nightmare Realm’s location… All we’d really need to get there is a makeshift wormhole stabilizer to create a temporary portal that would be up just long enough to get us in and out of Nightmare Realm, a few hours in our time at the very most.”

“Well… that shouldn’t be completely out of the question…” Pearl mused. “After all, we did send Peridot and Lapis back to the barn to salvage whatever materials they could from the drill, right, Garnet?”

The Gem leader nodded, her future vision, even as spotty as it had been during this entire situation, thankfully proving serviceable and spot-on in this instance. “I knew doing that would come in handy.”

“W-wait, can we just… slow down for a minute?” Stepper asked, taking a step forward in the hope that he wouldn’t go unnoticed this time. “Didn’t you say this Bill guy is really dangerous? If that’s true, then why would you want to go and pick a fight with him?”

“Uh, weren’t you listening, dude?” Amethyst asked, hands on her hips. “We gotta get your journal back!”

“That’s right,” Ford nodded, resolved. “It might be the only way for us to help you, Stepper.”

“Help me?” Stepper asked with a small scoff. “How would any of you risking your lives help me?!”

“It could help you remember who you are,” Garnet explained evenly, even though she was the first to pick up on the fusion’s rising frustration. “Who you’re supposed to be.”

As the Gem leader reached out a hand to place on his shoulder, Stepper harshly pulled himself out of her reach. “I am who I’m supposed to be!” he protested hotly. “That’s what I keep trying to tell everyone, but none of you will listen to me!”

“S-Stepper, please, don’t get upset,” Pearl said cautiously. “We know you don’t remember who Steven and Dipper are right now, but if you did, then you’d understand that they’re what makes you you.”

“No, they’re not!” Stepper countered, all four of his hands in tight fists. “How many times do I have to tell you? I am not a fusion! I’m especially not a fusion of two people I don’t even know!”

“Uh, yeah, you are,” Amethyst argued with a scowl.

“I’m not!” Stepper retorted bitterly. “Do any of you realize just how unfair all this is to me?! You all are asking me to be someone I know I’m not! Someone I can’t be because the only thing I know how to be is myself!”

“Stepper, that’s enough,” Garnet said, her tone as cold as ice. “You’re being irrational. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re saying!” Stepper accused, absolutely livid by this point. He knew he was going too far, he knew the ground he was standing on was shaky at best, but he couldn’t help it, he wouldn’t stop. He was tired of being silenced and refused to let his own voice go unheard any longer. “Even if I ever was a fusion, which I’m not, I don’t know who Steven and Dipper are! And I won’t let you all sacrifice yourselves just so you can force me to become who you think I should be! Why won’t any of you just let me have a say in what happens to me?!”

“Because, Stepper, you just… don’t understand,” Ford shook his head dismissively. “You don’t have the complete picture, you don’t know-”

“I know plenty,” Stepper hissed intensely. “I know who I am. I know who I want to be. I may not have a lot of memories right now, but I want to make more! I want to see so many things, I want to do so much, I want to become someone on my own. I-I don’t want to be Dipper or Steven or whoever else you keep trying to tell me I am. I want to be Stepper. I want to be me.”

“Stepper, you can’t stay like this,” Garnet insisted, her tone severe and stern. “You’re cracked, damaged, in gem, body, and mind. You will never be whole as long as you exist as you are now.”

“You’re wrong!” Stepper shouted, furious as he felt like the others were all backing him into a corner. A corner he would not let them trap him into, not anymore. “I can be whole, I am whole! Why can’t any of you just see that?! Oh, I know, it’s because you’re all so obsessed with Dipper and Steven, whoever they are, to the point that I don’t even matter, right?!”

“Don’t be absurd,” Pearl chastised, though her voice was trembling even as she said it. “You do matter to all of us, Stepper, but-”

“But only because you think I’m them,” Stepper surmised crossly, glaring away from all of them. “Well, I’m only going to say this one more time: I am not them. And even if there’s a chance I ever was them, I’m not going back to being them, ever! I’m staying just like I am, and if that means Steven and Dipper are gone, then… then I guess they’re just gone! For good!”

Before any of the others could even try to argue with this, the sudden clamor of shattering glass abruptly cut through the tension of the room. Everyone was quick to turn to the gift shop entrance, only to find Mabel standing in the threshold, the spilled remains of the now broken breakfast plate she’d dropped on the floor lying at her feet. Yet even so, her sights were set on Stepper and Stepper alone, tears brimming in her eyes as even more continued to fall over everything she’d just heard. Her grief-stricken expression alone struck Stepper with more guilt and remorse than he could have ever thought possible, especially since he knew there was no way he could take back what Mabel had just overheard now. Even if he actually wanted to. 

Even so, Mabel didn’t say a single word, instead choking out a heavy, sorrowful sob as she turned and ran, rushing down the hall to get as far away from the fusion as possible. Stepper gasped, making an instinctual move to hurry after her, though he stopped short before he could even leave the gift shop upon noticing all of the other sets of eyes watching him all the while. By all accounts, Ford seemed completely shellshocked, Amethyst sharing the same speechless sentiment. Garnet’s mouth was pressed into a tight, thin, clearly angry line, while Pearl clung onto her arm, her own mouth covered to suppress a mournful sob to match the tears streaming down her cheeks. Stepper tensed, unsure of what to say to any of them at a moment like this. Because really, he’d already said more than enough by now. 

So instead, he did largely the same thing Mabel already had and retreated, pressing past the group as he ran out of the shack entirely. He had no idea if any of them tried to stop him, and he largely didn’t care. He just needed to go, to escape, to get away from all of the expectations, all of the pressure, all of the guilt he couldn’t bear to shoulder any longer. 

He found himself heading up the hill toward the temple, not on purpose, but out of a simple desire to be alone. He had thought to go after Mabel, though he had a high suspicion that she was just about the last person he’d probably want to see right now. So instead, he went off on his own, his thoughts constantly washing over each other like waves lapping onto a shore. As much as his guilt still overwhelmed him, so too did plenty of other emotions: confusion, sadness, concern, exhaustion, but above all else, there was conflict. A sense of uncertainty that plagued him almost constantly now as he continued to wonder what came next. Or rather, what might become of him. 

He wasn’t a fusion, he wasn’t Steven or Dipper. He knew that. He was certain of that. And yet… that certainty still left so many gaps in who he actually was compared to who he wasn’t. He knew he was Stepper… and that was about it. An undeformed identity that he wanted to claim as his own, even if he didn’t know how. A life that he wanted to lead, even if he couldn’t see where that life might be going. Someone who he wanted to be, even if no one else wanted him to be that. 

The mid-morning sun was crisp and warm as it shined upon his face, yet even in its radiance he felt strangely cold. Empty. Incomplete, just as they’d called him before. Something was wrong, something was missing, he knew that. He just didn’t know exactly what that something actually was. And amidst that conflict, amidst all of the countless thoughts washing up onto the shore of his unsettled mind, he strangely found himself compelled to voice those thoughts in a way that felt undoubtedly familiar, even if he had no memory of doing so before. Still, he sang anyway, his mind aching and his heart breaking with each and every word of his melancholy tune.

“I’m someone, I’m no one, I’m me,” he began, his voice smooth yet sad as he strolled up the hill ahead of him. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be… They want me to give up myself, and then just become someone else…”

He let out a small, bitter sigh at this, the arguments Ford and the Gems had put forth stinging him even still. Even so, he couldn't help but feel some form of sympathy for their plight. Whoever Steven and Dipper actually were, Stepper could tell they were important to the others based on how adamant everyone was about getting them back. Certainly, if anyone he cared about that much had been ripped away from him, he would have likely felt the exact same way as they did. Though perhaps not to the extent of forcing someone else to become someone they weren’t. 

“I wish that I knew them, I do.” And it was true. He would have loved to know who those boys actually were, perhaps even befriended them based on how highly everyone seemed to think of them. Even if he felt like he barely knew a single thing about either of them. “They’re sorry they lost them, me too. But someone else is to blame, for memories that I still can’t claim.”

Memories of people, of places, of events he hadn’t been a part of, of things he had no context for. People like Greg and Pacifica and Lapis, all of whom seemed quite nice, but he didn’t know, or at least he hadn’t until now. Places like the Nightmare Realm, of what happened there, something that, even for as filled with as many holes as it was, what holes had been filled shook him to his very core with fear. Events that Mabel tried telling him about, weaving together into a grand, epic story he wasn’t a character in, but he wanted to be, he strived to be. And yet, no one else seemed to want that along with him. 

“I’m no one that they want around.” By now, all four of his arms were wrapped around him in a loose hug as he continued to approach the temple, knowing he’d find some much-needed solitude there. “They’re someone I still haven’t found. I’m me but I’m not what they need. ‘I’m them’ but I’m not sure I agree.”

He entered the house, his song still spilling out of him as he stepped into its quiet atmosphere, bereft of any of the Gems as they remained down at the house. Unsure of what else to do there, he climbed onto the loft, finding a small bedroom setup there, decorated with plenty of personality to spare. What caught his eye however, was the collection of photographs resting above the bed, each of them framed as they depicted several faces Stepper recognized, from the Gems, to Mabel, to Connie, and then of course, there was Steven and Dipper, just like they were in the photograph he pulled out of his vest to compare. Their smiles still bright, their eyes brimming with life, their identities a complete and utter mystery to him, just as they’d always been from the very start. 

“I want to be someone, but I can’t keep pretending to try,” He continued examining that photograph as he laid out on the bed before him, one that, just like the one he’d slept on last night, was far too small for him to fully fit on. “That their pieces fit into mine. Pieces I’m trying to find.”

He sighed in resignation, his sorrowful song starting to come to an end as he laid that photograph on his chest and closed his eyes in contemplative reflection. Reflection over an identity that still evaded him, a mystery he still hadn’t solved and likely never would. 

“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be-”

“So I’m someone, I’m no one…”

“I’m me…”

He opened his eyes, letting out another solemn sigh as he did. He held the photo up again, staring at the boys depicted in it almost as if they were his own reflection. And if what everyone else kept saying was actually true, then they might as well have been. “...What am I going to do…?” he whispered to the picture, even though he knew it couldn’t possibly give him the answers he was seeking. 

And yet, that didn’t mean something else couldn’t. Stepper gasped in alarm, bolting upright on the bed as his gem, even as fractured and dull as it currently was, suddenly began to gently glow. That same glow overtook the large, star-bearing door on the far side of the house, and in an instant, that door slid open to reveal whatever lay beyond it. Confused, Stepper climbed down the loft, taking in first glimpses he got of the strangely pink expanse on the other side of the door, one that he couldn't help but step through to get a better look. 

“H-hello? Is anyone in here?” he called as he emerged into what looked like an endless forest, though by far the strangest one he’d ever seen. The trees towered far beyond what he could see, creating a canopy of leaves that were all inexplicably pink, just as much as the trunks of those trees and the almost cloudlike ground at his feet were. The entire wood was dead silent, yet mystically calm and peaceful, coming across as some sort of safe haven he couldn’t help but step further into, not even noticing as the temple gate sealed itself shut before disappearing entirely behind him. 

For a while, he simply walked around aimlessly, weaving between the towering trees as he listened to that void of silence echo all around him. Yet even still, that silence gave him no reprieve from his endless torrent of raging thoughts, each of which consumed him, taunted him, tore away at him to the point that he could see no semblance of peace, not even here, away from it all. 

He shook his head, glancing down at the photograph in his hand once more. And as he did, he couldn’t help but wonder what those boys were really like. Who they really were to begin with. Because maybe if he knew them, then perhaps he’d finally understand exactly why everyone was striving and struggling to get them back in the first place. “...I just wish I could actually meet both of you…” he muttered despondent as he began to put the picture away. 

Yet as he did, the pastel pink clouds at his feet suddenly began to shift, several of them swirling in from between the trees to take some sort of shape before him. Or rather, two shapes, each becoming more and more distinct with each passing second until they took on the fully-formed, fully-colored appearance of two boys: one with dark curly hair and a pink shirt bearing a large star and the other clad in a pine tree cap and a dark blue vest. 

Stepper gasped, stunned as he took a small step back from the pair, even as they both opened their eyes and offered him mutually friendly smiles and a unified warm greeting. “Hi, Stepper!”

At first, Stepper had no idea what to say as he looked between the two boys standing before him, the photograph he had of them finally slipping out of his hand entirely as he somehow managed to speak to them. “S-Steven? D-Dipper?” 

“Yeah!” Steven chimed, his tone bright and warm. “Who else would we be?”

“Are you ok, Stepper?” Dipper asked, his smile less wide but still apparent as he raised a curious eyebrow. 

Stepper shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he leaned up against the nearest tree. “I… I can’t believe it…” he whispered. “You’re… both actually here…”

“Yeah, we are!” Steven chuckled, as if what Stepper had just said was the funniest thing in the entire world.

“Why wouldn’t we be here?” Dipper asked, his hands in the pockets of his vest. “You wanted to see us, after all.”

“R-right…” Stepper nodded weakly, though he was quickly reinvigorated by a newfound idea. “Wait… you’re here. You… you aren’t gone! I-I could take you both back and I could finally show everyone that I’m me and not you!” Without any warning, Stepper grabbed both boys by the arm and began to drag them along through the woods. “C’mon! They’ll all be so glad to see you again, especially Mabel. She-”

Stepper froze as the boys’ hands fell out of his grip simultaneously. And at the same time, another flash, pain sparking from his gem, all throughout him as his thoughts went wild, rampant with things he had once said, with senseless sentences he didn’t understand. 

“We could do this--we could win this!” “I’m sorry!” “Maybe you should just break things off with me…” “I don’t want to break away from you!” “You mean so much to me!” 

“You stayed with me… so I’m staying with you…”

Once again, it was over far too quickly. There were pink cracks spreading to his lower hands now, but he hardly noticed them as he turned to see the boys standing behind him, both of their bodies glitching out even as they retained their upbeat smiles. “W-what?” Stepper reached toward them both, only for his hands to pass right through them as immaterial as they both currently were. With a gasp, he pulled away, and sure enough, both boys finally stabilizing as if nothing had even happened, to give him another refrain of their first hello. “Hi, Stepper!”

“Y-you… you’re not… real… are you?” Stepper guessed, his heart sinking as he already figured out the answer. 

“Uh… of course, we’re real,” Dipper said, apparently confused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Yeah, we’re you, remember?” Steven asked, still wearing that constant knowing smile. 

“N-no,” Stepper began, his voice shaking as he collapsed against the tree once more. His upper hands were pressed tightly into his hair, his mind and heart both raging against each other in a storm, a hurricane he had absolutely no control over. “No, I don’t remember. I don’t remember you, I don’t remember being you!” With a heavy, agonized sob, he fell to his knees, to the soft, cloudy “ground” below him, his lower hands covering his face as he wept miserably. “I… I’m not you… I’m NOT… I’m… I…” His tears fell onto all four of his hands as he held them out to look at them mournfully, scornfully really. “I don’t know who I am… I don’t even know what I am...”

For what seemed like ages, the only thing that could be heard echoing through the pink trees was the sound of Stepper’s continued sobs, each one wracked with despair over an identity he’d never get to have, over the life he knew he’d never lead. When those sobs were finally interrupted however, Steven was the first one to do it. “We know what you are…” he said, his voice soft as he took one of Stepper’s hands and held onto it gently. 

“You’re our fusion,” Dipper added as he grabbed another hand. 

“You are us…” Steven agreed just as affirmatively. 

“No…” Stepper whimpered as he averted the pair’s intent gaze. “I… I’m not, I… I can’t be, I don’t even know who either of you are, I’m not-”

“Stepper,” Dipper spoke up as his grip on Stepper’s hand tightened. “Look at us. You may not remember us, but… deep down, I think you do know the truth.”

“Don’t you see?” Steven whispered warmly as he lifted his shirt up a bit. And there, resting squarely on his stomach, was the exact same pink gemstone that was sitting on Stepper’s own. “We’re the same. We are you. And you’re us.”

“I-I… I’m your fusion…” Stepper repeated with a dawning sense of realization as he looked at Steven’s gemstone. As he looked at Dipper’s clothes. As he looked at both of their faces and finally took note at just how similar both of them looked to his own. As he finally figured out that he wasn’t his own person at all. He never had been, not even for a single second. “A-and that’s all I am…” his sobs were softer now, still sad, but largely resigned to this fact. To the loss of any hope he might have once had that he could have been something more. “That’s all I’ve ever been… Only a fusion… all this time…”

“Only a fusion?” Dipper asked, incredulous. “You’re way more than just a fusion!”

“That’s right!” Steven readily agreed. “Whether we’re fused or not, you’re a part of us, Stepper. A very special part of us!”

“Yeah, you’re like… the living embodiment of our friendship,” Dipper explained as both him and Steven took a step closer to their fusion. 

“You represent the bond between us,” Steven added kindly. “And that’s not nothing. It’s something so important to both of us! It’s what makes you who you are!”

“B-But… I don’t even remember that bond…” Stepper muttered, tears still in his eyes as he shook his head remorsefully. “I don’t remember your friendship, I… I don’t remember either of you… I-I… I feel like I barely even remember me…”

“You will,” Dipper assured with a confident smile. “And don’t worry about what happens after you do. Because as long as we exist, then so will you.”

Stepper sighed, his tears finally stilling themselves as he suddenly pulled both Dipper and Steven close in a much-needed hug, one that they gently returned. Because even if neither of them were actually real, this had been all of the proof he needed to know that they once had been. That they could be real again. “And as long as I exist,” he promised, knowing that wherever the real Dipper and Steven were, whether locked tight away inside his mind or somewhere else entirely, they’d hear his newfound vow somehow. “Then you will too.” 

And then they were gone, dissipated into the very clouds they had both been composed of, nothing more than an empty memory he didn’t have. A memory that he at last knew was actually his, a memory he knew he had to reclaim. A memory he was going to reclaim.

Even if he had to rip his shield journal out of Bill Cipher’s hands himself. 

He found Mabel in the woods, not too far away from the Mystery Shack. She sat against a wide tree, her legs and her face both buried into her sweater as she wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Stepper knew she’d been out there for a few hours, at least, and even still, she was inconsolable, understandably so after the horrible things he’d said earlier. Still, he was resolved to set this wrong right first, in the hopes that it would be the start of fixing many more on the difficult road ahead. 

“M-Mabel?” he began, carefully taking a seat on the ground next to her. She didn’t even bother to look up at him as she instead pulled her sweater tighter around herself, hoping to block him out even more than she already had. Yet even so, he was determined to reach her all the same. “I… I’m sorry…” he said with a remorseful sigh. “What I said before, I… I wasn’t thinking, I-” He cut himself off, realizing just how insufficient his apology was really proving to be as Mabel showed no signs of responding to it. So instead, he opted to go in an entirely different direction instead. “Mabel, can… can you tell me more about them?” 

Caught off guard by this question, Mabel finally glanced up, tears streaking down her cheeks as she looked to him curiously. “A-about who?” she asked softly, sadly. 

“Dipper and Steven,” he answered, managing a small smile as he said their names. “You’ve already told me so much about who they know and what they’ve done, but… I still don’t feel like I really know much about who they are. So…?”

“Y-you want to hear about them?” Mabel sniffled, wiping away a few of her tears on the sleeve of her sweater. “Really?” Stepper nodded, his smile widening just a bit as he urged her onward. And so she gave him what he asked for in the best way she knew how. “W-well… Steven is… h-he’s just about the nicest person you could ever meet. He’s friendly and helpful and so much fun. He likes Crying Breakfast Friends and Ducktective and donuts and Lion and… he always helps people whenever they need it, no matter who they are.”

“He sounds like a pretty great person to know,” Stepper mused fondly. 

“Yeah…” Mabel glanced away, her cheeks warm with an affectionate blush as she thought of the young Gem. “He is… He’s… one of my best friends… I kind of wish he was maybe a bit more than that, but… that’s fine… we’re fine...” 

“What do you mean?” Stepper asked, confused. 

“N-nothing, it’s nothing,” Mabel shook her head with a small, wistful sigh. A sigh over what she knew could never be ever if they did manage to get Steven back. “Still, Steven is… well, he’s a real gem. Get it?”

“Yeah,” Stepper chuckled. “I think I do. So what about Dipper then?”

Mabel’s smile faded into returning grief at this. “Dipper…” she whispered, her tears coming back in full force as she suppressed a mournful sob over the brother she’d lost. 

“You said he’s your brother… right?” Stepper asked, hesitantly. 

Mabel nodded, holding back her tears to at the very least honor him by telling his story. “H-he’s my twin,” she corrected quietly. “My one and only bro-bro, the best one I could ever ask for… He’s a total nerd, but he’s brave, great with a sword, and he’s stubborn, oh gosh, is he stubborn! He’s probably the smartest person I know, or at least I think he is, and that’s saying something since I know people like Grunkle Ford and Pearl and Peri. But most of all… I know that no matter what… Dipper’s always there for me. He’s always got my back. Dipper and Steven both do… I-I… I miss them…”

Mabel finally broke down into another heartbroken sob, pulling her knees close to her chest in a renewed hug as she fruitlessly tried to chase that heartbreak away. And while Stepper wanted to comfort her with a secure embrace of his own, he decided to offer her another form of comfort instead. “I… I want to remember them…” he admitted, his voice soft, barely even a whisper as he said it. 

“W-what…?” Mabel asked, not sure if she’d heard him right. 

“I want to remember them,” Stepper said again, his tone firmer this time. “I want to be them again. For you, for them, a-and for me.”

“But, S-Stepper, I… I thought you wanted to be… you know… just you,” Mabel pointed out, briefly glancing away from the fusion. 

“I do,” Stepper confirmed with a warm, confident smile. “And Steven and Dipper, well… they’re who I am. So as long as they’re together, then… I’ll always be me. Right?”

Mabel nodded, choking on a small, yet happy whimper this time as she leapt at the fusion, pulling him into a tight, grateful hug. “Thank you, Ste-bro,” she whispered, practically dreaming of the moment she’d get to see Dipper and Steven as they truly were once more. 

Stepper smiled, easily returning her embrace as he solidified his resolve. He would do whatever he had to to keep that genuine smile on Mabel’s face. He would do whatever he had to go back to being who he had always been meant to be. “You’re wel-!” Stepper cut himself off with a gasp that bordered more on a scream, a sharp wave of sudden agony overtook his entire form. And this time, it was no mere flash, it was a torrent, a flood that overwhelmed his ever sense as pain flushed out from his gem to every single fiber of his being it seemed. 

“Stepper!” Mabel cried, terrified as the fusion suddenly collapsed out of her arms onto the forest floor. His body seized up with yet another burst of unbearable anguish, the cracks that had once only surrounded his stomach expanding their reach to the rest of his body as his vibrant pink eyes flashed brightly, erratically. His gemstone also flashed, dangerously so as even more color seemed to drain from it, as his face grew pale and beleaguered by the intense, yet strangely familiar anguish he had found himself engulfed in completely out of nowhere. “Stepper, w-what’s going on?! What’s wrong?!” Mabel asked, gripping one of his arms tightly as he wrapped them around himself. 

“I-I… I don’t know…” Stepper breathed tensely, another paid groan escaping him as his gem shot another burst of agony through him. “I-it… it won’t stop…”

Needless to say Mabel was panicking every bit as much as Stepper himself was, but even so she knew there wasn’t any time to waste. “C-come on,” she urged, slowly and carefully helping him properly sit up. “We gotta get you back to the shack.” Stepper didn’t argue, largely because he couldn’t as burdened by his lingering pain as he was. It was an immense struggle for him to even stand, but with a bit of doing he managed it, largely leaning against Mabel for support as they both began to inch their way back toward the shack, both of them awash in fear and dread for whatever could possibly befall the already tormented fusion next. 

“Is it finished yet?” Lapis asked impatiently as she continued pacing around the author’s room. Garnet, Amethyst, and Stan also stood by, anxiously watching as Ford, Pearl, and Peridot continued tinkering away at their latest invention. An invention that could, if all went right, get them to the Nightmare Realm and back with an all-too-important journal in hand. 

“It’s almost there…” Peridot noted as she checked over the readings on her tablet once more. “It seems as though we’ve locked onto the exact location of Cipher’s dimension after all. Where exactly did you get these coordinates from, Stanford?”

Ford flinched at this, looking to Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl, who only glared away from him bitterly in response. “Uh… l-lucky guess,” he answered quickly, falsely. “Now, let’s review the plan. Peridot’s going to stay behind to monitor the machine in case anything goes awry. Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and I will venture through our temporary displacement portal into the Nightmare Realm and-”

“Not without me, you’re not,” Lapis interrupted rigidly. “I’m not about to stay behind and let that Cipher guy get away with what he did to Dipper and Steven. He’s going to pay, I’ll make sure of that.”

The others all looked to Lapis in sligh concern at such a vicious threat, though it wasn’t really one any of them could argue with. After all Bill had done, there was no denying they all wanted to see him finally be brought to justice too. “V-very well then,” Ford nodded. “Then myself, Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Lapis will-”

“I’m coming too,” Stan suddenly spoke up, his expression solid and resolved as he stepped forward. 

“Stanley, no, you can’t-”

“Can it, Ford,” Stan cut his brother off with a scowl. “Dipper’s my nephew too, you know. And neither him or Steven deserved what that creep did to ‘em. So I’m with frills here,” he nodded over to Lapis. “Let’s make this guy wish he’d never messed with our boys.”

“Yeah! Let’s get him!” Amethyst cheered in uproarious support. 

Garnet and Pearl also nodded their consent, leaving Ford with no choice but to agree. “Fine,” he said, stepping away from the now-finished machine. “I think it’s ready. But we still need to-”

“Help!” Mabel’s urgent cry rang through the shack, catching everyone’s attention instantly. “Please! I-it’s Stepper! Something’s wrong with-” Before she could even finish, the Gems were all already at the door she’d barely managed to pull Stepper in through before the fusion completely collapsed in pain, far too weak and worn to keep himself upright anymore. 

“W-what’s wrong with them?!” Lapis asked in apt alarm as Garnet rushed in to lift the languishing fusion into her arms. “What happened?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Mabel shook her head fearfully. “He was fine one second and then-”

“T-the cracks on his skin are back…” Pearl noted anxiously. “Could that mean his gem’s condition is getting… worse somehow?”

“Uh, his gem still looks like it did before,” Amethyst noted worriedly. “Ya know, aside from the whole flashing thing. T-that’s pretty new.”

“A-and concerning…” Peridot agreed with a fretful frown. 

“It’s not his gem,” Garnet theorized as she properly picked Stepper, who was largely out of it by this point, up. “It must be his memories.”

“His shield journal!” Ford interjected as him and Stan joined the group that was already making their way back to the author’s room. “I’ll bet anything that Bill’s probably doing something to it even as we speak. I hate to even think about it, but for all we know he could be… damaging it, and who knows what that might be doing to Stepper in turn.”

“Then that means there’s no time to waste,” Garnet said as she began to set Stepper’s listless form on the nearby couch. “We’ve got to go get that journal back now, before it’s too late. Peridot, open the portal up.”

“B-but we haven’t even had time to test it yet!” Peridot protested apprehensively as she lingered near the machine’s controls. 

“Who cares?!” Lapis shot back. “Dipper and Steven’s lives could be at stake! We’ve just gotta risk it!”

“Y-yeah!” Mabel agreed as she stayed close to Stepper’s side. “W-we’ve gotta go get his journal! We have to help him remember! He wants to remember now, r-right, Stepper?”

At this, Stepper opened his eyes, still dully glowing pink as he forced himself to sit up, even though his body protested with pain that still refused to go away. “Y-yes…” he said, his voice rough and tired, yet somehow firm and determined all the same. “I-I… need to remember them… I need my journal back…” He was shaking as he stood, though as he nearly fell one more, Garnet barely managed to catch him and hold him upright just in time. “W-we have to go… I… I have to go…”

“No, absolutely not,” Ford resiliently rejected the fusion’s resolve. “That’s completely out of the question, Stepper. You can’t possibly go back to the Nightmare Realm after what Bill-”

“I-it’s my journal,” Stepper protested, refusing to wait on the sidelines any longer. “Those are my memories… D-Dipper and Steven are me… a-and I’m going to get all of them back… n-no matter what happens…”

“That’s right,” Mabel solidly agreed, grabbing one of Stepper’s lower hands in complete support for this mission. “And this time, I’ve got your back, Ste-bro.”

Stepper offered her a thankful smile at this, though even so, the pair was still met with resistance from the others. “Kids, we appreciate your bravery, but this is far too dangerous for you,” Pearl shook her head. “You both need to stay here with Peridot where it’s safe. We’ll be back with the journal before you know it.”

“But-”

“No,” Garnet cut both of them off as she went to join the others near the machine. “You’re both staying here. That’s final.”

Neither Stepper nor Mabel had time to argue as Peridot flipped the switch on the machine, a bright light sparking around its central hub. From that light, a portal was quick to open up, bright and vibrant even as it connected to the dreadful place they all knew that had to go: the Nightmare Realm. “Is everyone ready?” Ford asked the others, all of whom had either taken up or summoned their weapons for whatever fray laid before them. “Good. Then let’s go.”

Knowing the portal would only remain open for a short window of time, the group marched onward into it, all six of them unflinchingly ready to face the dream demon and retake what he had stolen. However, as the last of them passed through the portal, Stepper and Mabel exchanged a brief nod, both of them prepared to act on the exact same idea as they ran forward toward the portal as it began to close. 

“W-wait!” Peridot shouted the moment she realized what the pair was doing, but by then it was too late. 

Because just before the portal could disappear out of existence entirely, Stepper and Mabel both leapt through it together, disregarding any sort of orders the adults had given them. They were going to face the Nightmare Realm, to face Bill Cipher himself, no matter how daunting or dangerous such a struggle might become. 

And as far as Stepper was concerned, he wasn’t about to come back until he had finally remembered exactly who he was supposed to be. 

To be continued...

Next: 

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 18

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: With the rest of the staff caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play. 

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 3k

Parts 19, 20 & 21 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

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Sam has always had a tendency to fixate on things.

As a kid, it was easier to hide. His teachers called him “special,” sometimes “gifted.” But really it was an all-consuming voracity to understand everything on any given topic.

When he was in sixth grade one of his teachers assigned him a report on ancient Greece. It was supposed to be a two-pager, easy peasy, something Sam could do in his sleep, but he got an F because he never handed it in. Not that it mattered. Two weeks later they were back on the road. He spent a month in the back of the Impala, reading by flashlight. He checked out copies of The Iliad and The Histories of Herodotus, only to drop them off at the next town’s library and pick up a copy of The Republic. By the time he was done, when he finally felt he had a grasp on the inner workings of the culture and the people of Greece, it was nearly a year later and the paper was long forgotten.

He knew he wanted to go to college and he knew where: Stanford. His future was in California and he could feel it. He had a plan. All he needed was to get good enough grades, he could fake the rest. The morning he left the motel where his dad and brother were sleeping, he honestly thought he’d never see them again. The guilt was real as he walked down the road, sticking out his thumb to every car that passed. It was an uneasy feeling that took residence in his gut and stayed there a long time.

That feeling lingered all through freshman orientation and well into his first semester. But then he met Jess and he found a new thing to put all his focus on. His family was fucked, he knew that without a doubt. But she was his chance to be normal, to be happy. No more monsters hiding in the dark; no more made up stories about the big bad to justify all the crazy his dad spouted day in and day out. No, Jess was all the good stuff in life. She was gentle and thoughtful and way too sexy to be with tall, skinny Sam. But inexplicably she loved him and he felt like he’d won the lottery every day.

Jess became the focus which seemed to help with his studies. She was everything and school was second which made things manageable for him. Against all logic, his girlfriend didn’t distract him, she allowed his brain to focus a normal amount, to move on instead of getting stuck on the details and needing days of research to answer every niggling question. Jess balanced Sam and he never took her for granted. 

When she died Sam thought he might die too. He’d never been in love before. Yeah, his dad and Dean were family and they loved him the way you love the people you also hate. But with Jess he’d been in love, ready to create his own family, to fulfill what he truly wanted in life, a normal job and a person to hold at night. Just when he finally believed the universe wasn’t so shitty, fate stepped in.

Dean came begging for him to join him on one last trip. Dad was MIA and Sam was powerless to say no. Dean needed their father in a way Sam never had. It was just a couple of days, he’d be back before anyone missed him and life would move on.

The police have maintained since the beginning that Dean killed Jess. They theorized that he stabbed her and then set the apartment on fire to cover up the evidence. For years Sam was so angry he let himself believe it. The anger would bubble up from his stomach, get caught in his throat and he’d think about how much he wished he could kill Dean.

So Sam did what Sam did best: he focused. After moving to the east coast he threw himself into law school. He lost himself in books and cases and facts. Anything but people.

Dean found him a couple of years later, showed up right after Sam graduated from Harvard Law. His brother told him how proud he was of his geeky little bro and that dad would have come but you know how he is.  

“Shouldn’t you be drunk or something?” Dean chirped good naturedly as Sam stared at him in the living room of his studio loft. “Celebrating with the rest of the class? Havard fucking Law School, goddamn Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam snapped back, folding his arms over his chest. He used to feel so much but as he stared at Dean all he felt was empty. “Why are you here?”

“Because,” Dean tilted his head, looking at Sam as if his brother should have already understood. “This is a pretty big deal. I’m proud of you.”

Sam stared at him in silence, both of them flinching as a car backfired outside.

“Did you do it?” Sam asked the question he’d wanted to ask for a long time. It didn't hurt to think about her anymore. Jess was just a concept now, an idea of what could be taken away if you let yourself care. It happened to his father, his mother died and his dad went batshit crazy. Sam understood now, letting people in was just setting yourself up for pain and misery. It wasn’t worth it.

“Are you really asking me if I killed your girlfriend?” Dean laughed, smile fading as he realized Sam was serious. This tall, beefed-up version of his brother wasn’t the wide-eyed, big-hearted kid he grew up with. “No, I didn’t kill her.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Was it dad?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean had had enough. “You think he’d do that? Why?”

“To prove a point. To get me to come back.” Sam dropped his backpack onto the table. “You should go, I have a lot of work to do.”

“You graduated three hours ago.” Dean watched Sam, realizing the extent of the damage. This Sam wasn’t his Sam at all, not anymore. “You got work to do?”

“I have to find a job, Dean. I have goals.” Sam waved his head. “Please don’t come back. This can be goodbye.”

“You mean that?” Dean asked, lips pursed trying to suss out if this was an act, but it wasn’t.

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam turned, arms spread wide with desperation. “Just leave me alone. I want you and dad to stay out of my life.”

“I hear ya,” Dean looked at Sam one final time before walking out.

In hindsight Sam’s not sure what he believes truly happened all those years ago. His dad might have killed Jess, maybe to teach Sam a lesson about family and leaving. Maybe he was delusional, maybe he thought she was one of his demons. Who knows. Maybe it was Dean after all, the old man did a real number on his brother. Dean was, and is, a true believer, he always has been.

From that moment, Sam worked. He put in eighty-hour weeks, he took chances and he built an empire. With success, isolation came hand in hand. The more money and power he gained the more he saw the worst in people. Everyone wanted something from him. It was easy to become the infamous Sam Winchester he is today.

And then you walked into his hotel room.

He’s always been able to read people, a talent that’s served him well through the years. So when you looked at him that first time, pupils widening, that nervous swallow you still get when you’re excited, he knew you saw him.

For most people, the initial attraction to him is the celebrity of his success. He’s in an elite group of powerful men recognizable by the general public, which has always made him uncomfortable. Strangers in the street do a double-take, trying to figure out how they know him. Sometimes he can hear the whispers as a wife leans toward her husband.

“Tim Cook? No, but he’s someone, I know I’ve seen him before!”

But when you reacted to him, and he saw that pulse of excitement in you, there was nothing else but raw attraction that you didn’t even understand yourself. You didn’t want him, or his attention, in fact, you would have faded quietly into the background if he’d have let you. Something about that appealed to him.

For a long time, it was just sex. He meant what he said. He had needs and you were beautiful with that tight little ass. And to top it off you got wet every time he so much as raised his voice. It was just sex and then one day it wasn’t. It was something more, a small, excited feeling that he hated and denied.

There were two others before you. One woman he paid, the other wanted more from him. Neither of them sparked anything inside him.

But you did.

You asked questions, personal things that no one had dared ask in a long time. You touched him, held him after you came like you already knew he cared for you. The way you rested your head on his shoulder and your arms wrapped around him, dug up old feelings.

Sam hated those feelings with a passion. He still does.

Part of him wishes he’d never confessed them to you. He should have saved you from Brent and sent you on your way.

He’s not good for anyone, he’s a slow working poison. His cold, dead heart will leak its toxin like arsenic until one day you’ll be just as numb as he is. He’ll break you. And you’ll hate him for it, that much he knows for certain.

-

“She’s been like that for hours,” Sam explains, pacing back and forth in front of the bedroom door. “She can’t get warm.”

You woke up like this, shivering uncontrollably.

“Look at me,” the doctor shines a light in one eye, then the other. “Are you having any auditory symptoms? Sounds that shouldn’t be there?”

“There’s, um,” you pause, closing your eyes and honing in on the sound. “A ringing. It’s distant but constant. It started a few hours ago.”

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “What you’re feeling is normal. Everyone reacts differently and after what you went through it would be strange if you weren’t experiencing any repercussions.”

“What do we do?” Sam moves to stand behind him, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares down at you. If you didn't know better you’d think he was pissed.

“Well, I can prescribe something for the panic attacks, but what she really needs is a support system and time. She should see a therapist and it should happen soon. Tomorrow at the latest. It’s vital to involve a professional as soon as possible. Will you be staying with her?”

“Yes,” Sam nods, his eyes shifting from you to the doctor.

“Good,” he turns back to you. “You may start to feel more acute feelings of loneliness and isolation. It’s normal, but you shouldn’t give in to those tendencies. You need to talk, to be around people. And I meant what I said, seek professional psychiatric help. It doesn’t make you strong to try and handle this on your own. It only makes you foolish.”

-

Sam settles next to you on the couch as a half dozen men and women mill around his living room. A tech sets up audio recording while another focuses a video camera on the two of you.

“I’m agent Ashburn with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. This is Agent Murtaugh with the FBI. We’re a joint task force and we want to make this as easy as possible. Hopefully, we won’t need to speak with you a second time.” She offers a practiced smile, shifting her gaze to Sam. “We’ll probably need you for follow up. More than one I’d guess.”

“I understand,” Sam nods, crossing one leg over his knee, his arm extending over the back of the couch behind your head. “Do you know how many people were injured?”

“As of right now we’re looking at nineteen injuries and seven fatalities.” Murtaugh leans forward, both arms resting on his knees. “It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t gotten to him.”

You shift in your seat, looking down at your hands. You want to ask about Max and Tim, but at the same time, you’re afraid of the answer.

“Did you see a doctor, Y/N? We have a lot of resources available.” Ashburn reaches out, tapping the coffee table gently.

“Yeah,” you look at her, feeling your heart speed up. You’ve been fighting these random panic attacks all morning and the medication only helps a little.

“We had someone come over this morning,” Sam elaborates, a hand squeezing your shoulder. “She’ll be fine.”

“Just to clarify,” Murtaugh gestures with the end of his pen between you and Sam. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship?”

That question is so complicated you don’t even know how to begin thinking about an answer but Sam picks up the slack without skipping a beat.

“Romantic,” Sam states simply.

“Right, okay.” Agent Ashburn scans through her notes, looking up to Sam. “We’re allowing you to stay with her, but these questions are for Y/N. I need her to answer, no interruptions.”

“I understand,” Sam confirms and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to focus.

“Prior to him being let go, did Brent ever say or do anything that you found odd or aggressive?”

“No, he was nice. A lot of the junior associates are assholes, sorry, jerks, but we all liked Brent.” You think back scanning your interactions with him. It’s all true, he seemed like one of the good ones.

“Would you say you were friends?”

“No. I mean, he was a work friend, but we’re not close. I said “hi” to him every morning for six months. We talked a couple of times a week. He was more than an acquaintance, less than a friend.” You look from the agents to Sam. You want to give them the right answer, to help. “I’m sorry, I’m trying, I just-”

“You’re doing great,” Sam gives you another squeeze, his voice more gentle and encouraging than you’ve ever heard him before. It’s almost unsettling.

“Yes, you are,” Murtaugh jumps in. “You’re doing what helps us most. Just talk, don’t overthink the answer. Sometimes we get the details we need when people don’t even realize it.”

“Okay.”

“Did you ever spend any time with him outside of work.”

“A few times,” you shrug. “On Wednesdays everyone goes to the bar, he went a few times. I never really talked to him though.”

“How about after he was fired? Did you have any contact?”

“Yes, I texted him. I can show you if you want.” You reach for your cell phone and Sam picks it up from the side table and hands it to you. Pulling up the text you read it out loud. “It was the only time I ever texted him. I just said We’re all so sorry about what happened. Hope you still show up for drinks.”

“He never responded?”

“No,” you hand Ashburn your phone and she reads it.

“We’ll need to keep this,” she explains, handing it off to a tech who drops it into a plastic bag. You shift towards Sam, looking down at your hands. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s just, ummm, Sam and I text sometimes. There are private messages...photos.” You can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“Well, I won’t lie. Our techs will comb through everything but we’re only interested in your correspondence with Brent.”

“God,” you sigh, trying to remain calm. You should have deleted the thread between you and Keith Campbell, some of the things on there would make Ron Jeremy blush.

“Don’t worry, they’ve seen it all.” Ashburn winks, trying to keep things light-hearted and you want to sink into the couch. “I have to ask. We’re unclear on Brent’s plan. We’re not sure if he was targeting specific people, or if it was random. We know he was upset with Sam, do you feel that he may have focused on you because of your relationship with Sam?”

“No,” you sigh, the very thought is unnerving. “No one knows about us.”

“I see.” Both agents ask question after question, right down to the mundane details of your breakfast that morning, and then they go through them again. It’s almost three by the time they’re done with you. Retreating into the bedroom you turn on the TV while Sam begins his interview. You doubt you gave them anything, any insight, but Sam might. You don’t know the details of his termination, it's possible he holds all the answers.

[ddaenggtan]

amae | jhs

amae - japanese. the way you act when you want to depend on another person. relying on someone’s goodwill and love to help you. frequently thought of as wanting to be loved and taken care of.

when someone new moves in next door, you don’t expect to become friends. everyone on your block was friendly, yes, but none of you gave more than a courteous wave when you spotted each other in passing. that changes with jung hoseok; a literature professor with sunlight gleaming out of every pore, who enjoys complex lectures, random coffee trips, and…sleeping in your hammock? curiosity gets the better of you as you befriend him, but just what could have this man sleeping in your garden hammock every night?

pairing | jung hoseok  x reader

genre/warnings | neighbor!hobi, writer!reader, pure cotton candy fluff, this may actually rot your teeth

word count | 6.7k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | ahaha this did end up shorter than give and take, bc it felt very right to end it where i did!!! there’s a lot of flower language used in this, bc i’m the ultimate slut for flower language, i think it’s the cutest shit i’ve ever seen. i also tried to make this MC different than g.a.t’s, pls tell me if i failed!!!! i want them all to be v distinguishable and independent and unique, and i love feedback!!!!

The moving van in front of the neighbor's house shocks you when you get up that morning. There had been a For Sale sign hanging in the yard for upwards of a year, and you've watched with mild amusement as the price continued to drop.

A favorite hobby of yours is coming up with creative reasons the realtor was more and more desperate to sell the house. Your favorite so far was that the adorable plump woman had to sell it soon, or her wife would run off with their girlfriend in the night, never to be seen again.  Until Minri did get it sold, that is, upon which her wife and girlfriend would return and they would live in bliss.

Minri was, in actuality, very nice, and you doubt you should be entertaining such thoughts about her. She'd sold you your own house, after all; a lovely little three-bedroom, with a wonderful yard for your garden and your friends' dogs. Minri had even managed it at a great price, though she had emphasized the cleanliness of the place and the nearby churches, which was a little odd. You owed her for it, no matter how peculiar she had been during the viewing. 

Well not really, she got a very nice commission from the sale, but it's the principle of the thing. 

You scavenge one of the dry erase markers from the drawer and make a note on your fridge to bake her cookies sometime soon. Your mother would have a fit if she saw you writing straight on your fridge, but it was erasable and easy and you are if nothing if not a simple girl. 

You pull yourself from your musings and make another note to call your mother before she could get huffy that you haven't in a while, and toss the marker back into the drawer when you're done. You direct your attention back at the moving van, unsurprised when a gaggle of young-looking boys emerges from the neighboring house to start unloading. Well, it wouldn't be extremely fair to call them a gaggle, as there are only three of them, but the point stands. They seem to be very close, judging by the way they tease and play, and it makes you smile a little. It was long past time the neighborhood got some life in it. The closest people to your age are the couple three doors down, in their 50s and always willing to talk about their seven children. It got tiring. 

With a soft sigh, you turn from the window at your sink and dismiss the flash of bright pink you see in the mirroring window from next door. None of the three you saw had pink hair, but you could have missed one. You slide your hand along the spine of your cat, Tuna, and smile as she wraps her tail around your wrist for a moment before chirping and jumping down from the counter. She follows as you make your way to your office, tucked into the smallest of the bedrooms because it gets the best light, and settle at your desk to return to your work. Novels don't write themselves, after all. 

You aren’t sure which of the boys lives next door, but it becomes quickly clear that it’s only one of them. Several are over at all hours of the day, but by the time the sun goes down, there’s usually only one or two there. A variety of vehicles come and go, but only one is there often enough to be the owner's. You might think it was a gay couple, had you not heard the complaints about an uncomfortable sofa on your way to get your morning paper.

They’re a very respectful bunch, whoever they are. They keep things quiet after sunset, and wait for a reasonable hour to start their backyard morning exercises. The music they play is pleasant, if a bit loud as it drifts over to where you kneel in the dirt. The fence that separates your yard from his reaches your shoulder. A white-picket thing that surrounds each of the yards in the neighborhood, you've never cared much for it, and it keeps you from seeing anything notable as you tend your garden. Still, you catch snippets of conversation, bits of stories that you never get a conclusion to, jokes with a punchline that’s carried off by the wind. 

For the most part, though, you catch names; Jungkook, Jimin, Seokjin, different variants of each, but the one you hear most often is Hobi. His name rings out constantly, gliding through the air on notes of both mirth and vitriol. It’s usually accompanied by a laugh that makes your heart warm in your chest, or some form of inhuman screech, though you’re not sure why. You’ve never seen enough to understand what happens at the house next door, nor have you actually met any of the people that come and go like leaves in the fall. 

Still, you can’t deny your curiosity, and you tell yourself that if the opportunity presents itself, you’ll introduce yourself. Despite that decision, the opportunity never does seem to present itself. Weeks pass, and you find that you feel nervous at the thought of going and introducing yourself now. The window has passed, it would be too strange now, he would think you odd. So you keep to your own house, tending your flowers and your trees, writing your novel, and doing your level best to keep Tuna off of the manuscripts and letters sitting around that you have yet to organize. You’ve resigned yourself to the sad truth that you simply won’t get to know your neighbor, won’t be able to have that adorable friendship you’ve dreamed of, won’t even know which one it is that lives there. 

The universe has always worked rather strangely for you, though, and it’s not long after your acceptance of this fact that you come out of your back door, gardening gloves in hand and already reaching for the misting hose, to find someone swaying in your hammock. 

You’re not really mad, you don’t use it very often anyway and someone should. Mostly you’re curious - you always have been, and always will be, most likely. Curious as to why someone is in your hammock when most everyone on the block has their own lawn furniture, who that someone is, how they got into your yard. The bolt on the gate is nearly impossible to unlatch from the outside; you know, from the many times that you’ve locked yourself out and had to James Bond your way into your own house through the back window.

You set your gloves on your patio table - a white bistro set your mother gave you when you moved out - and make your way over to the stranger. He’s good-looking; feather-soft brown hair and oddly clear skin, drowning in a sweatshirt that was at least two sizes too big, snoring lightly as the wind rocked him. 

“Hey,” You say. He doesn’t respond, and you frown. “Hey, dude, what are you doing?” Still no response. You huff and turn, eyeing the yard for something to help. You don’t want to shake him awake, that could prove dangerous if he swings out at you. Your eyes light up as they land on the hose, forgotten among the grass. You tromp over and pick it up, dragging it back over to where the hammock sways among the tree branches. 

“I’m gonna spray you awake,” You say. You receive no reaction, not that you expected any, and shrug. With one pulse, a fine mist of water settles on him. The guy does, indeed, flail, swinging wildly in a futile attempt to fight the water raining down him. He sputters and wipes at his face, and you watch as he does. 

“What the hell, who the fuck sprays someone with water when they're sleeping?” He asks, shaking out his now damp hair. 

“In my defense, I told you I was going to do it. You were the one that was asleep and didn’t hear.” The man freezes at the sound of your voice, looking around your yard as if seeing it for the first time. He gives you a hesitant and apologetic grin, and the sun seems to grow brighter on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep in your yard, I swear. There was...it’s a long story, but it really was an accident.” He flips himself gracefully off the hammock, with practiced ease that makes you only a little jealous. You should learn to do that. 

“It’s fine, you can sleep in the hammock. I only want to know how you got in my yard.”

“I vaulted the fence,” He says as if it was obvious. You look from him to the fence, and back again. “What? It’s not difficult.” You turn back to the fence, measuring it with your eyes. If he was able to vault it without much difficulty, how fast would he have to be going? He would surely need a good deal of momentum, of course, to be able to launch himself five feet up in the air. The only thing in your brain is that ‘ten-foot vertical leap’ meme, and you curse your best friend for sending you every meme he ever thinks is remotely amusing. 

The sound of your name brings you back to the present, and you focus on the man once more. “That’s you, I’m assuming?” The man says. You nod and point to him, belatedly realizing that you still have the hose in your hand when he flinches. 

“Which one are you?” You ask him. He gives you a confused look. “There are several people next door most of the time, which one are you? Jungkook, Jimin, Seokjin, or Hobi?”

“Hobi,” He says after a second, beaming at you as he does. Something in your chest starts to unfurl itself, and the sensation is strangely comforting. “But my name is actually Hoseok, they just call me Hobi. You’re welcome to as well, most do.”

“Right.” You watch him for a few more seconds as he shakes out his sweatshirt, water dusting the grass below him. “I have gardening to do. Please let me know the next time you want to sleep in the hammock.” You turn back to the flowers closest the fence, satisfied now that you’ve answered so many of your questions about your neighbor. 

“You aren’t going to ask why I’m here?” His voice calls from behind you. You shrug, kneeling beside your white camellias and checking their soil and sprouts. They were starting to bloom and you needed to be careful to make sure they weren’t soaking up too much water. “So I can seriously sleep here whenever. I just have to tell you first?”

“That’s what I said,” You reply. You pause, thinking for a second, and turn to look at him. “Does this make us friends?” The beaming smile he wears is nearly blinding, and you find it very endearing that he is so wildly happy at such a small thing. 

“It absolutely makes us friends,” He tells you. You return the smile, albeit yours is much less sunshine-y than his. He starts to walk toward the fence and you laugh under your breath. 

“Hoseok, you can use the gate,” You tell him. He stops and looks between the gate and the fence for a second before laughing embarrassedly at himself. “Please refrain from vaulting the fence in the future, as well. I'll leave the gate unlatched for you from now on.”

Hoseok grins and waves as he jogs out the gate and to his own home. You don’t relax until you hear the click of his door shut. A soft mrow from your left has you moving to pet Tuna once more, and you beam at her. 

“It’s been a long time since I had a friend, hasn’t it?”

You don't expect to see or hear much from Hoseok after your brief interaction. You've had friends before, of course, but they all tend to fade away as they have their own lives and you have deadlines. Even your closest friends, three boys you met in college and somehow kept around, don't message you as often when you're close to finishing your work; they know better than to expect a response when you have an editor breathing down your neck. You're used to it, used to people becoming immersed in their own problems and not wanting to share them, so you never get upset about it anymore. There's no use in it, not when you do the same thing.

You're so used to this that it surprises you when Hoseok waves at you one morning as you're both getting mail. Another day he's playing football with a couple of friends and shouts a quick greeting over the fence as you dip down to do your gardening. One memorable evening, you turn from shooing a raccoon away from your trash with a feather duster to see Hoseok watching from his driveway. You give him a polite smile and he shoots you a proud, yet puzzled, grin, and the next day when he sees you putting out small feeders near the back part of your yard for the raccoon, he just chuckles. 

Not to mention that you still come outside most mornings to find him snoozing in your hammock, rocking in the gentle breeze and comfortable as can be. He's never given you any explanation, though to be fair, you also don't pry. 

It's a struggle; you want so much to know why he doesn't sleep in his house that sits not ten feet away from yours. You don't want to push him, though, too scared of breaking this tentative friendship you've built over something so small. 

Things only start to change the afternoon he knocks on your back door while you're getting lunch ready for Tuna. She yells as you set the food down in front of her - a special blend designed to help her hearing and her eyesight since she's predisposed to troubles with both - but she quiets soon enough. You step around her to open the door, and you're shocked at the expression on Hoseok's face. 

He wears a smile now, but for a second...for a second, he had looked afraid. 

Your name drops from his lips in a tone that tells you he didn't expect you to answer. "I was only wondering, do you, um…" He trails off and you wait patiently for him to finish the thought. "Do you want to get lunch? Coffee? Anything? I need to get out of the house for a while."

"Sure," You reply. "Let me get my wallet." You move to the entryway to grab the thing - old and falling apart but still useful - and when you return, Hoseok is standing exactly where you left him. You pat Tuna's head and exit, closing the door behind you before you turn to Hoseok with an expectant smile. "I'll drive?" You suggest, since he still seems somewhat jumpy, and he nods. 

He's not quiet on the drive, by any means, but it amazes you how he says so much but so little all at once. By the time you get to the cafe he directed you to, you've heard all about the antics of his friends - Jimin, Jungkook, and Seokjin, who helped him move that day - and you've heard plenty about their time at school and his days spent as a literature professor at the local university, and yet that's the most you know about him. Fun anecdotes and the off-hand comment about a student. Definitely not a word about why he sleeps in your hammock, or why he showed up at your door out of nowhere and asked you to lunch with a look in eyes that you thought you'd only see from a rabbit caught in a hunter's snare. 

Still, as curious as you are, you can't bring yourself to ask about it, because it's so obvious that he wants to talk about anything else. 

"So, what do you do? I never see you leave for work when everyone else does, so I assume you work from home?" You nod in response to Hoseok's question.

"I do. I'm an author, so I spend quite a bit of time in my office. That's why I started gardening, actually, so that I was forced to be outside in the sun at least a little bit every day. Otherwise, I tend to nest in my office for days without leaving."

"That makes a lot of sense," He says as he sips at his coffee. "What do you write?" 

"Horror." The shock on his face, like perhaps he heard you wrong, is one of your favorite things about telling people you write. He gazes at you, taking in the messy hair, overalls, daisy-covered shirt, and pink sandals. "Psychological horror, to be exact.”

"Seriously?"

"Seriously." You grin, much too amused with the entire conversation. You slide your phone out of your pocket and tap at it until you're at your official website. You slide it across for him to see, and he clicks through the pages. There are several - one for each series, one for your upcoming releases, an appearance schedule, and then a quick bio that features a picture of you and Tuna. When he slides the phone back across the table, he looks impressed, and it warms you. 

"I had no idea that was you," he says. You can't help the knowing grin. "You seem a little...bright for the genre."

"The mind is a fascinating place, Hoseok. The darker parts are so often either overlooked entirely or exaggerated for dramatic purposes. I want to tell real stories about real things that can happen. There's no need for embellishment when very real, very terrible things happen every single day. Besides, you don't need to dress in all black and carry around a leather-bound copy of Stephen King to prove you're interested in horror." He hums across the table, and his look has turned almost calculating. 

"I may have to read some of your work then."

"You might." You give him a serene smile and finish your coffee. 

He's somehow friendlier after that. He initiates small conversations almost every day, outside your mailbox or hanging over the fence while you garden. He appears all but every other day on your doorstep, looking terrified but grinning as he asks you to go to coffee. You start to wonder if there's something chasing him that only he can see, but brush the thought off the same second you have it. You've become too deep into your latest book. 

He does read your work, which surprised you; you'd never expected him to do so. You offer to lend him your copies, as you have one of each on a shelf in your office, but he steadfastly refuses. You talk about it over coffee, and though you shouldn't be surprised at the quick thinking and keen observations he makes, you are. As often as you interact with your readers at signings and readings and conventions, you've never been quite so invested in someone's thoughts before.

You're eager to know what he thinks of the most recent book he's read. You're curious as to what metaphors and symbolism he's picked up on, what foreshadowing has punched him in the gut with realization.  If he would criticize the heavy-handed allegory you've created, or if praise would fall from his lips to slide across and settle in your chest.

It's been a very long time since you cared for someone's opinion like this, you realize one morning as you stare out your kitchen window. Butterflies form in your stomach and you sigh, content in the knowledge that there would be no running from this. You watch as Hoseok runs around his own backyard, laughing at something Jimin says. He's sweaty from the game they're playing, but the sunlight seems to absorb into his skin in a way you've not seen before, and it looks like he's glowing. His smile lights up the sunset, and you can hear his laugh from here, and you want nothing more than to wrap yourself up in the sound. 

No, you decide, there would be no running from these feelings, only acceptance of the blossoming fondness inside your heart. You turn from the window as Hoseok laughs again, spotting an empty section of your garden as you do, right beside the eye-catching red tulips. It makes you frown, as you can't remember there being an empty section there before.

You make a note on your fridge to pick up some pink camellias next time you're at the garden center to fill it. Your reminder to call your mother stares back at you and frown at it for a solid minute before you pick up the phone. As it rings, you resign yourself to yet another conversation with your mother about why you're not married with a real career yet.

"Have you had dinner yet?"

You look up from the weeds in your grasp to see Hoseok leaning across your fence and beaming at you. 

"Have you had dinner yet?" Hoseok repeats at your obvious confusion. "I ordered delivery and saw you out here and I thought I should offer to share. Since you've been so kind in sharing your lovely hammock and free time, I want to repay the favor."

"Oh. No, I haven't eaten yet." You stand and dust the dirt off your gloves before sliding them off. Hoseok grins and hands two large bags over the fence to you. You take them, curious, and watch as he pulls himself up and over the fence. He’s careful not to step on your flowers, but he still gives an apologetic smile as you sigh. "The gate is right there, Hobi."

He winks as he rights himself and takes one of the bags. "It's faster like this." You laugh and slide your gloves off with care, not wanting to drop the food, and hang them on the fence beside you. Hoseok is already halfway to your back door and waves at Tuna where she waits on your dining table. 

"Oh, Hoseok, don't-" He's opened the door before you can finish your sentence, and a small black and tan fluff darts out. The dog circles him, yipping at his toes and running back and forth between the two of you. Hoseok looks startled, but a smile spreads across his face after a moment. "I'm sorry, I'm dogsitting for my friend while he's out of town."

Hoseok coos at the dog and leads him back inside, luring him along with a small bit of meat. You laugh as you follow, sliding a hand down Tuna's back as you shut the door behind you. 

"He's adorable, I love him!" Hoseok exclaims, laughing again as he sets the food on the counter. He looks at you and gestures to the piece of meat in his hand, and you nod to let him know it's fine. Yeontan takes it and follows Hobi around as he starts getting plates and utensils, the fact that he knows where they are is a testament to how often he's at your house.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Tuna bathes languidly atop her cat tower and Yeontan sits between you and Hoseok, his entire body shaking back and forth as his tail wags. Every so often, Hoseok will comment about his day, as he usually does when the two of you eat together, and he asks about yours. You tell him about the new flowers you've planted - some gorgeous white lilies that should bloom well. He tells you about his theories and opinions on the last book of yours he'd read. 

By the time you're finished eating, he has several new thoughts and notes jotted down in a hasty scrawl on a napkin. He's insightful with his questions, bringing up points you hadn't considered and opinions on continuity that you need to clarify in the future. Your heart flutters in your chest when he smiles, bouncing Yeontan in his lap. 

"I do think they're good, though," He says as he makes kissy faces at the dog. "Like, good good. If I ever teach a psychological horror class, I may use them. Students could learn a lot from the dedication to detail."

"Thanks, Hobi," You tell him, and you don't bother to hide the fond smile. The fluttering in your chest is familiar at this point, and it makes you sigh a little.

You're so smitten, you think as you watch him bounce Yeontan on his knee; you should, perhaps, feel more conflicted about your growing emotions. And yet, you've been accepting of it since you first met him. It was as if the second you met Hoseok, you knew you would fall for him. How could you not, with his charm and warmth and humor and the unbearable mystique he left in his wake each time you spoke to him? 

"Oh, that reminds me, I have something for you!" You stand and head outside for a mere moment, grabbing what you need in a flash. When you return, Yeontan is on his belly beside Hoseok, Tuna glaring at both of them with envy. You set the pot in front of him, and he blinks at it, bewildered. 

"Is this...?"

"Tulips!" You say with a grin. The yellow blossoms stand proud as he gapes, and you like to imagine that they're proud they look so good for him. "To brighten up your house. You always seem so interested them, and I had several extra seedlings this year, so I grew one for you."

The look on Hoseok's face is unreadable and he's silent for a long while as he looks at the flowers. You wait; you've seen the way he looks at your garden while the two of you talk over the fence, you've seen the way that he eyes the tulips as you weed them. You know it's a good gift, and you scream the reminder inside your chest to drown out the voice in the back of your head saying otherwise. It's worth the wait when his face splits into the biggest smile you've ever seen, radiant and bright. It almost seems to surround him, a halo of joy that feels like a summer sun. 

"I absolutely love it," He tells you. "It's gorgeous, I'm going to make sure everyone can see it." He stands, potted flowers cradled in both hands like a babe, and gives Yeontan one last kiss. "I should be going anyway, I have a class in the morning, but I need to make sure I find the perfect place for these." He beams at you again, and you return his grin. 

"It's nothing, Hobi," You say, walking him to the front door and opening it for him. "Consider it a housewarming gift." He beams as he makes his way across to his own house, and the way he's already cooing at the buds and talking to it have your emotions a mess.

It's been months since you first went to coffee with Hoseok. The two of you are, you would say, friends. You've definitely graduated from neighbors, and you spend more time together than acquaintances, but it feels strange to call him your friend when what you feel is so much more than that. 

Every time you see him, it only gets worse. More than once, you wished time would stand still if only to keep him with you a little longer. Being around him feels like standing in a meadow of daffodils in the noon sun, heat seeping into your skin and painting the world with its oranges and yellows while the breeze whispers a promise in your ear as it rolls through you. 

You wish you could bottle the feeling. 

You make a note on your fridge - 'bottling emotions for capitalistic gain - too obvious? trite? overused? must consider further' - and set out a treat for Tuna. She's grumpy, likely because you've yet again woken at four in the morning and disrupted her usual bed - your face - with your need for a bathroom and a snack.

You haven't slept much that week, too busy polishing the last few press releases and comments that had to be perfect before release. You'd finally done the last of the work and had checked the mail and done your gardening before you received Joy's email saying you were good to go back into hibernation until the next book was due. 

You took the hint and proceeded to pass out at around five that evening. You needed the sleep, clearly; you can't remember the last time you slept so long without even getting up to pee. Still, you muse as you munch on a week-old granola bar your mother left on her last visit, you're glad that you've gotten the book done. You're always relieved when you finish writing one, these days. In the beginning, you would wait anxiously until publication finished and the book was on the shelves. Joy had to pull you out of your rabbit hole several times, too consumed with what people were saying to even bother with anything else. 

That was before Tuna, of course, and the garden. 

Now, you were content seeing whatever happened your way. You didn't much care for professional reviews anymore; they were nice but they weren't as honest. The random people who stumbled onto Twitter in the early hours of the morning because they'd just turned the last page were much more genuine. There were always those that criticized you, of course, but you contented yourself with the knowledge that they never had to read your books if they didn't want to. Others enjoyed them, and that was what mattered. The ones who read them and then couldn't sleep, either for need to express their thoughts to someone before they could rest or because they were too on edge, too anxious, the ones who saw danger in every mundane shadow of their bedroom after putting your book down, those were the ones who mattered to you.

A bang startles you out of your thoughts, and you share a look with Tuna. Her fur is raised, tail straight up as she looks to your front door. You follow her gaze and see nothing, which isn't unusual. Tuna regularly communes with whatever shadow monsters exist in that parallel plane of existence only cats can see. It's not typical, however, for you to be able to hear said shadow monsters. 

You pad your way to the front door, sliding one of the hardcovers that had arrived the day before into your hand as you do, in case one of the shadow monsters tried something. Another bang echoes throughout your house, followed by a series of quick, desperate knocks. Deciding that no respectable shadow monster would knock before murdering you, you open the door to see Hoseok, panicked and sweating and panting. He looks as surprised as you feel. 

"Um…" is all he says for a minute, and you wait. "I didn't expect you to answer, honestly, I just. You weren't around earlier so I didn't want to use the hammock, and it's getting kind of chilly, and so I tried to sleep in the house, but it's gotten worse and I was doing alright but then it started making these noises? So I tried to get it to stop with some things I found online but that only made it all worse, and then it seemed like things were gonna shoot around the room, so I-"

"Hoseok," You interrupt. He stops, fixing wide eyes on you. "Context." "My house is being haunted by some kind of demon monster and I think it's going to try to kill me and I would really appreciate your help in exorcising it." You blink, but the grave expression on his face doesn't change. It takes a second for your brain to fit that particular frame around the puzzle that Hoseok has been - sleeping in the hammock, random coffee trips where he's jittery and on edge, the minute you go to leave the cafe, the terrified look in his eyes whenever he comes over or sparks a conversation out of nowhere. 

"Okay," You say, sliding the book under your arm and closing the door behind you. Hoseok looks taken aback at the idea that you're actually going to help him, but he hesitantly follows as you head across the front yard to his own front door. 

The house is quiet when you enter, the shadows of still-yet-to-be-unpacked boxes dancing on the walls as you turn the overhead light on. He's lived in the house for months and yet it seems only the bare necessities have been unpacked; it should surprise you more, but considering the fact that he's spent all that time believing there's a ghost haunting him, you aren't surprised.

Your first walk through the house doesn't seem to trigger anything. It's completely silent, eerily still, and yet Hoseok seems to jump at every creak of a floorboard, ready to run at every twisting shadow that shies away from the light. 

"Is there a ghost here?" You eventually call into the living room, and Hoseok curses at the soft thud that echoes. Your eyes narrow, darting around the space. "I asked a question. Don't be rude, it's very inconsiderate of you." There's a couple of other thuds eyes track them around the room. "If you don't stop, I'm going to start performing an exorcism, and then who's going to regret being impolite?" 

Hoseok hisses your name, but you ignore him, instead of focusing on the way the lamp in the corner wobbles ever so slightly. Hoseok clearly also notices this, inching towards the door once more. 

"Hoseok said you were talking to him. Am I not good enough?" There's a pause, and then a warbled voice reverberates through the room, eerie and lingering, which only cements your theory. You turn to Hoseok and lower your voice, barely even whispering. You're so close that your lips brush his ear as you ask him where the entrance to his attic is. He leads you to it, stepping softly and avoiding the creaky floorboards as you do.

It's harder to be quiet as he pulls the trapdoor down, stairs sliding along with it, but at this point, you don't need to be. You ascend first, Hoseok following close behind. He no longer looks afraid, merely curious, and you're glad for it. It's a pity that he's felt so alienated from his own house. 

There are several squeaking sounds as you turn on your phone flashlight and showing Hoseok exactly what has been haunting him: a pink-haired young man and his blonde friend, both scrambling for cover amidst the sleeping bag and snack wrappers that litter the floor of the attic. 

You stand aside as Hoseok chases them out, cursing about mice and sleep and ungrateful friends as he does. When Jungkook and Jimin are both gone, laughing so hard they can't run, you show Hoseok the boots they used to stomp around, the nearly-invisible fishing line threaded down and around various lamps and paintings, the radio hookup they used to change their voices.

"It's all stuff I've used in books before," You tell him as he pours a cups of coffee for you both. "Also, I could hear them laughing."

"I feel like an idiot for waking you up for this. And for sleeping in a hammock and getting chased out of my house for something so stupid." He runs a hand through his hair and the fondness in your chest grows. He doesn’t look at you, instead staring at the potted tulips sitting in his kitchen window. It mirrors your own, and you’ve caught yourself staring more than once from your own kitchen.

"There are worse things,” you say.

"Oh?"

"Mhm. I could've not had a hammock." The small grin he gives has you melting, and you want nothing more than to wrap him in a hug and kiss away the line between his brows. 

“You have a point," He says with a small laugh. "It is a really comfortable hammock. I almost don't want to go back to my bed."

"So don't," You say, voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. The tone in his voice feels new, feels good, like perhaps he's standing in that meadow of daffodils with you, and it gives you hope. "You're always welcome to use the hammock. As I said, someone should, otherwise it's going to hang there, all sad and lonely."

He looks shocked to hear that, though you aren't sure why. It isn't like you've been very secretive of the way he makes you feel; but then, you haven't been outright vocal, either. And he did think he was being haunted for the better part of four months, without realizing it was two of his friends living in his attic.

"You're welcome to come over whenever, Hobi," You tell him. "You don't need to be chased out by a ghost to talk to me."

"I don't want to interrupt your work," He says. His voice is hesitant and sweet and it reminds you of the orange blossoms you used to plant with your grandmother. 

"I'm actually finished with my book," You tell him. He makes a questioning noise, and you remember the hardcover tucked under your arm and set it on the counter. "This is actually for you." He steps closer to look it over and flips it around to look at the back as well. 

"I can't take your only copy," He starts but you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

"I have one for me," You say. Your voice is firm, unaffected by the rolling of your stomach, but it's quieter than usual. "That's yours. I wanted your opinion on it if it lives up to the hype. We talked about the one right before this last week, and I'm curious if this one will answer any of your questions or if it leaves you with more. I've been trying some new things, and I'm not sure how well I executed them."

You choke the need to keep talking. Instead, you bite your tongue and return the look Hoseok is giving you; it's intense and full of something you can't place. But he's opened the book to the back, fingers resting lightly against the dedication bearing his name, thumb brushing the red carnation you'd pressed between the pages out of sheer impulse. 

"You don't have to read it, of course," You eventually say. 

"I'll need something to do while you garden, though," He says, stepping closer and letting the book fall closed. "I can't exactly lay in that hammock and watch you garden, can I?"

"If you wanted, you could." He's closer than he's ever been now, eyes focused on your lips even as he studies your face for any sign that you don't want him there. "I wouldn't mind."

When he finally presses his lips to yours, they're softer than you expected. Even his hands are soft as he slides them up to cup your jaw and press deeper, like gardenia blossoms against your skin, and everywhere he touches is warmed, as if the sun itself was dancing across you. It makes it hard to breathe, but god, at this point, you'd be fine with never breathing again so long as he kept kissing you. 

It feels like hours when he finally pulls away, a shy smile painted pink with the sunrise, and it's breathtaking. 

Later that day, you plant lilies, white and yellow intermixed in a pattern that your grandmother taught you, while Hoseok swings lazily in your hammock, one leg on the ground to rock himself. He spouts questions at you as he does, making little notes in the margins of each page as you respond, Tuna curled beside him and happily snoring. 

You should plant more daffodils, you decide as you watch them.