#like you can tell its been used its all stained from the tomato sauce and doesnt really hold its shape anymore

[smute]

i found a single slice of cheesecake in the basement freezer and since no one here remembers freezing any leftover cheesecake ive been able to carbon date it to 2021 or maybe 2020 thereabouts i honestly have no idea and anyway it is simultaneously the wettest and the driest cake i have ever eaten

#wet bits arent wet enough #the dry bits are SOPPING #it tastes like slightly sweetened magerquark #which is just what german cheesecake is tbh womp womp #but it has the consistency of a spülschwamm that is way past its prime #like you can tell its been used its all stained from the tomato sauce and doesnt really hold its shape anymore #yeah #so its like that #anyway ive put worse things in my mouth #&

[ri-ahhh]

Okay, but with Grayson complaining about being lonely and wanting a girlfriend I CANT HELP but to think about how horny he probably is on top of that. Like- its been on my mind for days, so can you PLEASE write something about gray meeting a bitch, like through friend or something, and realizing he likes her and then having these dirty thoughts about her, and like he doesn't want to but he just cant help it... I will die and love you forever, you're writing is my absouloute favortie.

Ur so sweet babe haha thank you😊 hope this is along the lines of what you wanted.

Getting his dick wet has never been a problem for Grayson Dolan; not since receiving his first sloppy, inexperienced blowjob when he was on tour at the tender age of 16. There’s been a steady flow of girls in and out of his life ever since, fulfilling both his needs sexually and the fleeting desire for noncommittal intimacy. And that’s how he likes it for the longest time. Easy and no-strings-attached.

But he’s older now, and even though quarantine hadn’t stopped him from hitting up his favorite one or two booty calls every now and then, he feels empty in a way that’s becoming all-too familiar. It’s not a new feeling, but every time he leaves their homes (because that’s his number one rule — hookups stay out of his bed), there’s a longing that wasn’t satisfied and that’s becoming more and more apparent to him.

So he stops fucking around — literally. He believes in the power of the mind and manifestation almost to a fault, and considers that maybe he’s letting casual hookups interfere with what he really wants: companionship.

It seems like a breeze at first. Grayson swears he feels lighter, clearer in the head, more focused on what he wants out of his life. He puts his mind to being the best version of himself and hoping that it’s enough to attract the same kind of person that he can put all of his love and effort into in return.

As months roll on, however, he realizes that sometimes the universe just doesn’t listen right away. And for the first time in his life, Grayson discovers the monotony and reality of what it’s like for the ‘regular’ guys out there, whose only sexual pleasure comes from their own hand and the porn category of choice for the night. He was used to that as a filler, for sure, but not as his one and only outlet.

Plain and simple, he’s horny. All the time. Which makes him grumpy, and irritable, and frustrated with both himself and everything around him. So when Ethan tells him in passing that his girlfriend is flying in from New York with her friend to visit, it just makes him grunt. The fact that his brother is in such a happy and healthy relationship himself is a point of contention for Grayson in his head. He’s thrilled for Ethan, but he can’t help but dwell on the creeping jealousy in his chest. Here he is, starved for both intimacy and sex now, and Ethan will get served both of those the following night in excess while Grayson lies in his bed alone.

The next night, they’re all having dinner at the kitchen table — all four of them, including her. The friend. The friend that Ethan had mentioned would be coming but that Grayson had so brusquely ignored. The friend that had his eyebrows raised the second she walked shyly through his front door, drawn in immediately by her beauty.

The friend he can’t keep his eyes off of now as she goes to town on the roasted sweet potatoes and black bean burgers he had made himself. She’s quiet but witty and has a cute laugh that makes his heart flutter a little in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

He feels a nudge against his ribs, and startles when he jerks to the side to see Ethan staring at him pointedly with a knowing little smile on his lips.

“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt, bro,” he says, nodding to the blob of red on Grayson’s white shirt that had dropped from the forkful of sweet potatoes, which had only made it halfway to his mouth as he listened to her talk.

“Shit,” he mumbles embarrassedly, flushing a color near the tomato-red that’s now stained his shirt. Of course, the first time he’s feeling real feelings around a beautiful girl, he has to revert to awkward, clumsy Grayson rather smooth, relaxed Grayson.

He starts to scrub up the mess with his napkin, but she reaches out from her seat across the table from him and grabs his wrist in her petite hand. “Oop, wait! Dab, don’t swipe, or you’ll make it worse. I know how to get that out as long as it’s not smeared around into the fabric.”

Grayson swallows, his arm flaring with goosebumps at her gentle but insistent touch, but tries to keep his cool. She’s grinning at him amusedly, then sits back in her seat when Grayson follows her instructions.

“I thought ketchup was one of those things that you’re just kinda fucked if you get it on your clothes, Ethan says, filling the silence left by his brother.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Peroxide will get it right out, especially if you wash it after. Do you have any?”

Ethan cocks a brow and looks at Grayson, hoping he’ll use the opportunity to speak to her. Thankfully, he does, even if it is lacking a little bit of gracefulness. “Huh, peroxide? Oh... uh, yeah, I — yeah, in my bathroom.”

“I’ll help you when we’re all done, if you want,” she offers before taking a modest bite of her burger.

Grayson nods, and can’t help but watch the way she sucks a bit of barbecue sauce off her thumb once she swallows. His heart picks up and he has to shift in his seat a little when she winks at him, his pants tightening under the table. Damn it. He’s been trying to avoid that reaction and those thoughts, determined to do this right.

He fixes a smile to his lips, and hopes his face isn’t giving him away. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Everyone helps clean up the table and dishes, and Grayson leads her into his room while they leave the other two to have some alone time. He prays that he made his bed that morning and that there’s no dirty underwear on the floor or used tissues on the nightstand.

Luckily, the floor is relatively clear, and the bed is made, if haphazardly so. She follows him into the en-suite bathroom and watches him dig under the cabinet in the first aid bucket he has down there.

She’s wearing jean shorts and a loose-knit sweater, and when Grayson starts to stand back up he takes a moment to appreciate the tone in the muscles of her legs and the flashes of skin he can see through her top, hoping he isn’t being too obvious.

She takes the brown bottle from him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be easier if you take this off.”

Grayson nods, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him when she turns her back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you your modesty! I don’t know you, for all I know you might be super insecure.”

“At the risk of sounding like a total douche, I promise I’m not,” he answers, reaching behind his neck to tug the collar up and over his head. “Here you go.”

She turns back around, and Grayson doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over his sculpted torso. He can’t help but smirk a little, thrilled at the cute blush that tinges her cheeks when she meets his eyes and realizes she’s been caught.

He hasn’t had a woman look at him like that in months, however, and he’s grateful when she tells him, “This will need to go in the laundry tonight if you want to make sure the stain comes out, so you’ll need another shirt anyways.”

It gives him an out to duck into his closet, taking a moment to collect himself before grabbing the first T-shirt his hand touches and slipping it over his head.

“Cold water first,” she informs, smiling at him through the mirror when he re-emerges as she leans over the sink with the water running. She shuts off the water and squeeze out the excess, then takes the peroxide and pours some onto the stain.

“Woah,” Grayson says, eyebrows raised in surprise at the fizzing bubbles visibly picking up the bright red from the fibers of his shirt. “Where did you learn this trick?”

“I work in the toddler room at a daycare. We keep this stuff on sight and scene to avoid 20 outfit changes a day on a few two year-olds. I’m sure you can imagine the amount of ketchup and blood stains a toddler procures on the daily.”

Grayson chuckles. He feels himself growing more fond of her by the second. “You like kids?”

“I love them,” she replies with a grin. “Working in childcare is pretty rough, but it’s been a great college job. Lots of experience for my degree. And, you know, good practice for the future one day.”

If he hadn’t been sold by now, that does it. Beautiful, smart, and good with kids?

He takes a moment to assess himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s letting his dick lead him right now, even if he does want her that way. He’s just as attracted to her mind as he is the curves of her body and the features of her pretty face, and finds himself wanting to talk to her for hours on end.

He doesn’t realize there’s a heated silence, both of them standing there staring at each other, until she clears her throat and holds up his shirt. Grayson glances down at it to see just a faint brown rim around what use to be a bright red mark. “All done.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her and tossing it in his laundry basket. “Come on, hopefully we don’t walk into something we can’t unsee.”

“You make a pretty good meat shield,” she says jokingly, following close behind him. “All big and broad. I can just hide behind you and keep my eyes unscarred.”

Grayson laughs loudly, his ego swelling, and he has to resist the urge to take her hand in his. That would be too much. Right?

Thankfully, the couple is just cuddling innocently on the loveseat when they enter the living room.

“Movie?” Ethan asks when the two of them settle on the couch, a respectful and calculated distance between them — not too close and not too far.

“Sure.”

They’re all in a fun and lighthearted mood tonight, so they settle on Moana. Grayson wants nothing more than to throw his arm around the beautiful girl next to him, who sings along playfully to the songs she knows, her enthusiastic movements shuffling her closer to him. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t really care; her presence in both body and spirit feels good to him.

Ethan’s girlfriend only makes it about halfway through the movie before she’s passed out, tired from the long flight earlier that day. He looks down at her fondly and chuckles when he sees her nuzzled sound asleep against his chest.

“I’m gonna take her to bed,” he announces quietly before standing with her in his arms. “Goodnight, guys.”

They both murmur back “goodnight” and watch Ethan disappear down the hall. The movie plays on for a couple of minutes, before she’s turning to him and making small talk. Which turns into broader conversation about bigger things. Which leads to them settling so close that their knees touch. She finds an excuse to pick an invisible fleck of something off his hand, which turns into their fingers playing with each other’s teasingly.

Which turns to Grayson checking his watch in a quiet but not unpleasant lull, and muttering, “Oh, shit,” in surprise.

She checks her phone lying on the couch cushion behind her. The time shines back at her 1:27 AM.

“Damn, when did it get so late?” she wonders aloud, looking at him amusedly.

Grayson shakes his head. “Time flies,” he says. Whether it’s the late hour, or him getting his mojo back, or just the fact that he’s so naturally comfortable with her, he suddenly feels bold enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired?”

She blushes and bites her lip, allowing him to keep his warm palm pressed to her neck while his thumb strokes the ridge of her jaw gently.

“Not really,” she answers, scooting that much closer to him. “Not ready to go to my bed, anyways.”

She’s referring to the guest room she’s already settled her things into. Grayson smiles. Rules be damned, he thinks, until he realizes in the next moment that there’s no way this amazing girl is going to be just a hookup. There’s no rule to be broken.

“Why don’t you come to mine, then?”

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins fic #grayson dolan fic #blurb #g blurb

[gukyi]

if i told you (post-script) | jjk

summary: now that you and jungkook are together, all you have left to worry about are your finals. and while finals have never been merciful, at least you always have jungkook to lift you up. 

{established relationship!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: finals week *mr krabs meme* a/n: thank you to @cherryjiminiee​ for commissioning me for this drabble and for donating to the #blacklivesmatter movement !!! still wishing that this fic was my life.

Jeon Jungkook finishes his very last computer science final on the second-to-last day of the spring semester. 

You know this mostly because he had been complaining about having to take it for the week prior to the actual exam, dragging you out to the always-open library on campus to study at three in the morning when neither of you can sleep. You also know this because Jeon Jungkook calls you the moment he leaves the auditorium where he was taking it, and you are already well aware of what he’s going to ask of you when you pick up. 

“How’d it go?” You respond, shutting your laptop and hopping off your bed. 

“It wasn’t a total disaster,” Jungkook says, always looking on the bright side. “But… it wasn’t great.”

“There’ll probably be a curve,” you assure him. Computer science classes have never had a good track record of being easy or yielding independently high grades. 

“There better be,” he huffs. “I need at least a B in this class to keep my GPA.”

“If you totally fail, you know you can always go back to being a rent-a-boyfriend,” you tease. Not that Jungkook would ever consider doing that again, even if the pay was good and he reaped massive benefits, like free food and clothes. Your phone is squished between your ear and your shoulder as you shove your feet into your sneakers and grab your backpack. 

“Hey, you get me for free, so keep your mouth shut,” Jungkook counters, a giggle bubbling out of your mouth in return. “Anyway, come over? We can watch Studio Ghibli and eat kettle corn.”

“I’m already on my way.”

When you speed walk, you can make it to Jungkook’s apartment in seven minutes, including the time that you have to wait crossing a major roadway with traffic lights that take forever to change. You get there in eight and a half because you’re distracted by a club selling roses to commemorate the end of the semester, picking one up on your way. 

You knock on the door once before it opens to reveal none other than Jungkook, who looks every bit the beat-up-by-finals-week college student he is, under-eye bags down to his knees and a ratty old t-shirt with tomato sauce stains all over it. But he’s smiling, and his tired eyes light up when they see you, and he’s perfect. 

“I brought you something,” you say cheerfully, whipping out the rose you had been hiding behind your back. “Yoga club was selling them along the walk.”

Jungkook’s eyes scrunch up when they see the flower in your hands. He takes it between his fingers, and in one fell swoop breaks off most of the stem, so that only an inch or two remain. Gently, he places it above your ear, turning it until it’s just right, before beaming. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“So, you got Kiki’s Delivery Service lined up or what?” You ask, barging into his apartment, feeling the soft petals of the rose rest softly against your ear as you walk towards his bedroom. Jungkook doesn’t believe in televisions since they apparently have an uncanny resemblance to microwaves (as if his laptop doesn’t) and because he watches everything on his computer anyway. Besides, a bed is much more suitable for cuddling than a couch is. 

“What? I was thinking we’d start with Spirited Away,” Jungkook says, jogging lightly to catch up to you. When you reach his bedroom, you notice a hoodie of yours lying on top of his comforter, clearly having just been worn. 

You love his bedroom. Not in the sexy kind of way, because there’s this one part of Jungkook’s bed that feels inexplicably like cement, but in the way it feels like it envelops you, surrounds you with everything Jungkook is, everything that makes Jungkook Jungkook. There are framed vinyl covers on the wall of his favorite old bands, a couple pieces of workout gear in the corner. His closet is open because he does not fear demons popping out to get him in the night, and it’s filled with worn flannels and baggy black pants, perhaps a university hoodie or two. The tiny bookshelf in the corner holds all of his used textbooks, post-its and markers sticking out of the top if he ever needs to go back and reference something. It smells like him, woody and boyish and warm, like home. 

It feels like a constant hug from him. 

Avoiding the cement part of his mattress, you quickly settle down on top of the comforter, demanding he grab a blanket and join you. Jungkook does so with ease, making sure to take his laptop with him, as he curls up next to you with a fleece blanket covering your bodies. Knowing the two of you, and knowing that it’s May, you’ll almost definitely abandon the blanket five minutes in, but the feeling is comforting nonetheless. 

Jungkook puts on Kiki’s Delivery Service because you always wear him down, and you pay attention for the first ten minutes before Jungkook decides that resting it on his lap is annoying, and he would rather let it play in the background as you wrap yourselves around each other. 

“How did your finals go?” He murmurs into your hair. 

“They were alright,” you say back, head resting on his chest. “I totally crushed my sociology final, but I’m a little nervous about my political science one. It was just one giant essay for three hours. I filled up two blue books.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jungkook asks. 

“It’s not if my point got lost in all of the words,” you say with a sigh. That’s the danger with essay exams. You can only bullshit part of the way. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sure you did wonderfully.”

“You’re just saying that,” you tease.

“Because I know it,” Jungkook says fondly. “You’re my smart-as-hell girlfriend, of course you kicked ass.”

You grin. Jungkook always knows exactly what to say. “How’d yours go, then?” You ask him. You may have had essays to write, but computer science is on another level of college hell. At least, that’s what Jungkook says. 

“I’m banking on the curve for all of my classes, but I’ve done alright so far this year,” Jungkook tells you. 

“Couldn’t have been as bad as the midterm, right?”

“Oh my God, that midterm ruined my goddamn life. The average for it was a 37. A thirty-seven! That’s like, just over a third of the questions correct. How can professors make tests knowing that it’s impossible to get every single point. Don’t they want their students to succeed?”

“The great mystery of college,” you muse. “But you were above the curve, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, with my 46. Big whoop,” Jungkook huffs out. 

“Now who’s the one worrying for nothing?” You counter, reaching your head up so you can place a kiss on his cheeks. He blushes something fierce every time you do, you’ve noticed. Like he still can’t believe you’d ever want to kiss him. The jokes on him, though, because now that you’ve gotten a taste, you’ll never want to stop. “My genius, future tech CEO boyfriend. I’ll never have to work a day in my life so long as you’re around.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Jungkook says. “First I have to be employed.”

“The rent-a-boyfriend thing is still on the table,” you joke, making Jungkook shove your head away the next time you go in for a kiss. “Hey, don’t reject me! This could be a good business proposition for you. Oh my God, you could make an app with all of your computer science knowledge! Jeon Jungkook, your personal, moldable fake boyfriend.”

“You’re just gonna sell me out like this?” Jungkook asks, accosted. 

You grin. “Only because I know that at the end of every night, you’ll always be mine.”

“You’re cheesy,” Jungkook tells you (just in case you didn’t already know that), wrapping his hands around you and pulling you in for a kiss. 

“You love it when I’m cheesy,” you say back, grinning against his lips, because he does. “And even when I’m not, you love me then, too.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook says, pretending to think. While he does, you steal yourself another kiss, making his cheeks turn red again. “I guess I do. But only because you love me, too.”

The end of the semester brings both pain and relief, the joy of finishing another year, the despair of a finals week to accompany it. But you know that, no matter what time of year it is, no matter what day of the semester it is, whether it be the seventeenth, the ninety-eighth, or the second-to-last, you will always have Jungkook by your side, ready to take on the next.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #w: if i told you

[relaxedreptile]

Mend

Pairing: Hyunjin X Reader

Swearing. Jealousy. Mentions of a breakup.

A/N: This idea sort of just... came to me a few days ago and I busted this out. It’s a bit heavier and more angsty than I wanted, but I hope you all like it! 

I’m still working on a very long piece for Hyunjin and a few more requests in my asks, please look forward to what’s coming!

Also, what do you all think of GO LIVE? Personally, I’ve had it on repeat since it came out!

Stay cool.

-

“Hey! I know we planned on hanging out tonight but Changbin and I are kind of on a roll here with this song of ours and the deadline is only in a couple days so we’re really desperate to keep this going and-“

“And you won’t be coming home to watch a horror movie with me?”

“Or a cheesy rom-com, we never really decided.”

You and Chan were best friends. After showing up to your first day at your shared university, Chan was introduced to you as your tour guide during freshman orientation. While everyone else in your group hung back and anxiously glanced around at the foreign environment, you and Chan instantly hit it off and continued a conversation at the front of the crowd for the entire tour. 

He told you about growing up in Australia and his love for music (you tried to hide your giggle when he mentioned him and his friends’ Soundcloud endeavors) whereas you talked about all the classes you were taking and your dream career.

Meeting Chan took a lot of pressure off of your shoulders when it came to starting at a new school and embarking on a new stage of your life. Not only did he restore your faith in nice people still existing, but he gave you advice on teachers, told you the best places to hit up for snacks during a late night study session, and you got to meet all of his friends.

You got to meet Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was your age, two years younger than Chan, and one of Chan’s honorary brothers. They met through Minho, another boy in the group, who was partnering with Hyunjin on choreography and went to Chan for music to use. 

Honestly, you’d be surprised if anyone met your eight stray boys and didn’t want to get close to them; their charm is hard to resist.

And, unfortunately for you, so is Hyunjin’s.

You occasionally saw each other when the nine of you hung out as a group, greeting each other upon arrivals and exits, waving when you saw each other on campus. Soon, that grew into you guys gravitating towards each other at hangouts (sitting next to each other and sharing a bowl of popcorn on movie night, stepping out for fresh air together during one of Jisung’s big parties) and making plans on your own without the rest of the boys. It was no surprise to the rest of the group when Seungmin called you while you were on your first official date with Hyunjin and had to explain what you were doing (and why you would have to hear about how annoying Jisung was being at another time).

You and Hyunjin’s relationship, despite your fears, didn’t disrupt the dynamic of your friend group. Splitting your guys’ time between dates and takeout dinners with the boys was easy and your lives almost barely changed once you became official.

Which was the problem.

While behind closed doors you and Hyunjin were as “lovey-dovey” as they come (“get a room, you two!”), the rest of your college campus just saw you two as the best friends you had been for the months between meeting and getting together.

It left a sour taste in your mouth every time someone asked if you could hook them up with Hyunjin and it was like a punch to Hyunjin’s throat every time someone made a suggestive comment about how you looked that day in front of him.

It was what eventually broke you guys up, all the jealousy and occasional bickering over people who were “just friends”. You two were the only people on each other’s radar through and through, but insecurity is a powerful thing.

It was a rough breakup. You didn’t leave your room for a full 29 hours (Jeongin timed it) and finally walked out with a tear-streaked face and hoodie (that may or may not have been Hyunjin’s). 

Hyunjin poured everything he was feeling into his dancing and his performance at your university’s end-of-year showcase almost had you tearing up all over again; everyone was moved by Hyunjin’s choreography, but you were the only person in the audience who knew the whole story and therefore, felt it the most. 

The slight distance between you and all the boys that summer after your freshman year had ended had worked to ease some of the lingering tension between you and your ex-boyfriend. The two of you were able to grow back into a friendship once the new fall semester reunited the nine of you but things could never really go back to the way they used to be, regardless of the presence or absence of romance.

That didn’t stop either of you from staying close to the other boys and you and Chan were still as inseparable as ever. He was hard at work right now, trying to wrap up his and Changbin’s senior project (Jisung is still pissed that he isn’t allowed to help), but you two had decided to hangout tonight to make up for Chan’s busy schedule.

“Are you sure you won’t be back anytime soon? I can wait,” your tone was pleading.

You could hear Chan talking, but it was too muffled to make out what he was saying; you figured he was speaking to Changbin.

“Tomorrow’s the only day of the week that Changbin doesn’t have an 8-am, so he wants to stay here no matter what but all of our work is on my laptop and I kind of need that tomorrow for my 8-am but he probably won’t be awake early enough to-”

“You owe me, Christopher.” You only ever used his English name to tease him. This way, he would know you weren’t actually mad, even if your disappointment was genuine. 

You hung up while Chan was mid-apology, shooting him a quick test saying you “got it” with a couple of hearts.

Your phone was left discarded on Chan’s kitchen counter as you munched on a piece of pizza; you had made it to Chan’s apartment about fifteen minutes before he called and you weren’t really in a rush to go back to your small stuffy dorm room and loud roommate.

Chan lived in an apartment off-campus with Changbin and Jisung which acted as an unofficial go-to for your friend group; one of you was usually sleeping on the couch, taking advantage of the insanely fast WiFi, or clearing out their fridge regardless of the actual owners were home.

This was the reason why you didn’t look up from your sad dinner when you heard the front door open, assuming it was just a pouty Jisung or hungry Felix.

However, the voice that greeted you was neither as animated as Jisung’s nor deep as Felix’s.

“Y/N?”

The final piece of the crust almost got stuck in your throat.

You hummed a response, still chewing and starting to formulate an escape plan.

“Is Changbin here? He left his notebook at my place and I think there are some lyrics in it, he told me to drop by to give it to him.”

You gaped at Hyunjin, surprised at how similar your situations were. Your explanation of what Chan had said was quick, hoping it would get Hyunjin out of the apartment as soon as possible.

It’s not that you didn’t want to be around Hyunjin, it’s just that you two hadn’t hung out alone since your breakup and the two of you hanging out together in this apartment at this counter was a little too familiar.

“Do you mind if I wait with you, then? I’ve barely eaten all day and this pizza smells a little too good to ignore.”

He was already seated in the stool next to yours before you could get a word out. You nodded anyway, though, and pushed the stack of paper-thin napkins the pizza place had given you between the two of you.

“Have Chan or Changbin showed you the song so far?” Hyunjin said with a mouthful of cheese and tomato sauce.

Even while eating he looked perfect; his lips glistened with the oil from the pizza slice in his hands and anyone could admire his toned forearms thanks to the way he pushed up his sleeves to avoid staining.

“No, but I haven’t even bothered asking,” you told him, “I figured they were keeping everything top-secret until the showcase.”

“I tried bringing them some food the other day before class and Changbin basically shoved me back out the door,” Hyunjin giggled. “The same thing happened to Jeongin, apparently.”

“If they could resist Yang Jeongin what chance do I have?” You joked.

Except, Hyunjin didn’t laugh, he was completely silent; even his chewing had stopped. You couldn’t think much of it, the boy next to you snapped out of it quickly.

“I keep forgetting that they won’t be here next year.”

They, Chan and Changbin and Minho, the three seniors in your friend group. 

“I’ve been avoiding thinking about it,” you admitted. “I’m mostly worried for Jisung, honestly, he’s losing his best friend and his group-mates all in one year.”

This was partly true. Jisung’s best friend, Minho, was indeed graduating along with 2/3 of 3RACHA, but you weren’t worried about Jisung having to adjust to the change. It was actually Hyunjin you worried for the most; he was the most sensitive person in your friend group and tended to be apprehensive towards change. Not seeing three of your favorite boys around campus was going to be hard for all remaining six of you, but Hyunjin was terrified of being left behind or replaced. 

“But… but they’ll still be living here!” You quickly added, gesturing to the apartment the two of you were in. “They’ll still be here with us, really.”

“I’m going to have to find a new partner,” Hyunjin tried masking his sadness with a weak smile.

Your instincts kicked in, making you place a gentle hand on Hyunjin’s arm. You stroked your thumb back and forth along his sweatshirt, hoping he could feel the comforting gesture underneath all the fabric.

“Didn’t Felix tell you? He’s planning on switching his major after this year! He wants to go into dance, too.”

Hyunjin turned his body to face yours, your hand losing its grip and falling back down to your side.

“He’s changing his focus at the end of sophomore year?” 

You shrugged. “It was his last chance to do it. You know how much he hated finance.”

Hyunjin nodded. “He only kept up with that for as long as he did for his parents; I’m glad he finally has the chance to do what he’s always wanted to.”

You were in agreement there; Felix had finally prioritized his own happiness.

“And this way you don’t have to worry about a new partner!” You tried sounding hopeful, knowing that while Felix would be a healthy addition to the dance department at your university, Hyunjin would take losing Minho hard; he was basically his mentor.

“And… and I’ll still be here. When-If you need me.”

The two of you locked eyes. Fear rose up your spine, chilling your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

With a flash of his pretty smile, Hyunjin instantly calmed your nerves.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

You cocked your head to the side, not sure what Hyunjin was getting at. 

He turned away quickly, starting to fidget with the pretty rings on his pretty fingers. 

“With Chan leaving and all.”

“Oh. I mean… I’ll obviously miss him like everyone else, but he won’t be too far away. As long as he gives me my movie nights I’ll manage.” You joked.

Hyunjin glanced back up at you, his eyebrows slightly scrunched in thought.

“Was this a date?”

You visibly jumped back into your seat. “What?”

“For you and Chan.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

The boy in front of you got up off his stool, walked a few steps away from you, crossed his arms and stopped.

“I thought you two were a thing now. You had always been so close and I thought… since we… after I… I figured you guys would’ve made it official by now.”

“Hyunjin… Chan and I are just friends.” What had gotten into him? “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin’s voice was getting louder, his fists getting tighter.

You opened your mouth to respond with a little attitude, but Hyunjin beat you to it.

“I know you weren’t planning on finishing this pizza all by yourself and people don’t usually go on movie dates,” he scowled while saying the words, “alone.”

“I never called it a date, you’re the one who started using that word.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think? When you and I started spending time together without the other guys we were dating within weeks and you and Chan have always been basically inseparable-”

“Is that what this is actually about?”

“-and it doesn’t help that you always wear his sweatshirts around now or crash at his place all the time. You’re practically throwing it in my face-”

“There’s nothing to throw in your face, Hyunjin.”

“-that I’ve been replaced!”

Hyunjin regretted the word as soon as it left his pretty lips. He started blinking quickly and licking his lips, anything to distract him and keep him from running his mouth again.

“Replaced?” You repeated. “I… I haven’t… I’m not trying to replace you, Hyunjin.”

Silence.

“All eight of you guys have your own place in my life, they can shift and change regardless of what the other ones are doing. And, frankly, you’re making it sound like I’m just trying to check all of you off of a list, as if I’m here solely to get with you guys at one point or another.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hyunjin said quickly. “It’s just… all I do is think about us and what we had whenever I see you. And right now, I see Chan in the same places that I used to be and it hurts. It really fucking hurts!”

Hyunjin’s eyes were wet, the dim kitchen light reflecting off the trails down his cheeks.

“I thought I would be able to deal with the breakup better if we kept our distance but when summer ended and we came back… all of a sudden, the spots next to you on the couch were always already taken, you were already partnered with someone else in class before I could even get halfway to your seat, I felt… I feel like you don’t need me anymore, that I’m a random leftover piece next to a puzzle that’s already finished.”

You forced yourself not to point out how these fears that both of you shared were what pushed your relationship to its breaking point. Now wasn’t the time.

“I thought that the distance was best for both of us,” you started. “But… I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, miss what we had. I miss you, Hyunjin, I miss us. We were friends before we started dating and I thought that that meant it was possible for us to revert back to that stage in our relationship but every joke you made or smile you gave me just kept my feelings for you right where they were.”

You got up slowly, inching towards the sniffling boy.

“Of course I still need you,” you whispered, “I want you in my life.”

Your arms wrapped around the neck of the boy you loved, pulling him close into your body as your shared tears left their mark on your clothes. 

“There’s always a space for you when it comes to me, whether or not that’s a good thing. You don’t have to compete with anyone for my time or love.”

You both knew you weren’t just speaking about Chan or even the rest of your friend group but also the people around campus and in the city who had caused such an insecurity to grow within both of you.

“We have a lot to work on, don’t we? If this is going to work?”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, you just squeezed Hyunjin tighter to give yourself the courage you knew you would need in preparation for what would come with the future.

The future with Hyunjin by your side.

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hyunjin smut #stray kids #rr:hwang hyunjin

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Sweet As Sin (Part Two)

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read part one here!

Read part three here!

You stared at the man in front of you, your eyes narrowed and your hands planted firmly on your hips. Your mouth had been opened for a few seconds now, but no words had come out of it, and you eventually let it snap shut without uttering a word.

“…I can understand if you’re upset,” Steve started. “I really do. I wanted to tell you, it’s just-“

“You,” you interrupted. “…are Captain America, correct?”

“Um…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… Yes? But I don’t, you know… I don’t want you to see me like that. I’ve liked being just ‘Steve’ to you.”

You nodded your head.

“I… I’m not mad,” you assured him, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “I just… I’m a little shocked, I suppose.”

“That’s completely understandable,” he assured you. He set his hand on your shoulder, leaning down a bit as he looked into your eyes. “How about we get some breakfast and just…talk for a little bit?”

You gave him a small smile, still reeling from the surprise, and nodded. He flashed you a small grin before leading you to the counter, keeping his hand on your shoulder the entire time. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you didn’t even notice that you were leaning into his touch.

Steve let you order first, and you got a blueberry-cinnamon bagel with your favorite warm drink. Afterwards, Steve ordered an everything bagel with a coffee for himself and paid, not even giving you an opportunity to take out your wallet.

“I could’ve-“

“Doll,” he interrupted. “I take care of you.”

Afterwards, the two of you went back to his table, and you sank down into the seat across from his. For a moment, the two of you just looked at one another, and after a beat you both looked away and chuckled.

“I… This is a very strange experience for me,” you giggled. Steve nodded and fiddled with a packet of Splenda that had been laying on the table.

“I can imagine,” he murmured. “But… I want you to know that I’m really glad you came to meet me; you’re even prettier in person.”

You shook your head and looked away.

“I…can’t believe that America’s heartthrob just called me pretty,” you joked.

“I really wouldn’t consider myself a heartthrob.”

“How about a dreamboat?”

“Ah, no.”

“…Sex symbol?”

Steve’s cheeks were bright red within seconds, and his head tilted back as he laughed.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind if you considered me to be all of those things,” he chuckled. “But I’m still not really used to all the…fame. I guess. That sounds really self-absorbed now that I put it that way-“

“No, I don’t think so,” you assured him. “I mean, I just saw you on the news last night. Any time someone’s on the news I think they’re at least some level of famous. …It also doesn’t hurt that you have your own action figure.”

He laughed again, trying to rein in his chuckles when the waitress came back with your breakfasts. You were slowly feeling more comfortable with him – as you watched him devour at least a fourth of his bagel in one huge bite, he was becoming less and less of a world-famous hero and more and more the Steve you’d been talking to online. Down-to-earth, polite, funny. Old fashioned, of course, but now that you knew who he was and what decade he was born in, it seemed to be expected.

“So,” you said between bites, “how was Moscow? I imagine that it was hard to enjoy the culture what with the uh…bombs. And all.”

Steve smiled and sipped his coffee (black, you noticed, with no sugar) before answering.

“From what I saw, it was beautiful,” he remarked. “I’d like to go back there sometime on vacation. Whenever I’m able to snag one, at least. And the food was really good; spicier than what I’m used to, but good.”

“Do you have a favorite kind of food?” you asked, leaning your chin on your palm as you listened to him.

“Uh…” He thought for a minute. “Lasagna is pretty good. I grew up in the Depression, so I only got to eat it on special occasions. My mom used to make it for me on my birthday.”

You smiled.

“I would love to make it for you sometime.”

“If you did that, doll,” he grinned, “you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Who said I wanted to?”

He blinked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You mean… You still wanna continue this, uh…thing we have going on? You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you who I really am?”

You took a bite of your bagel, turning over his words.

“Well, I can see where you were coming from,” you assured him. “Although… Just a tip for you, next time you meet a girl online, don’t wait to spring your real identity on her at the first date.”

“Hopefully, I won’t meet another girl online, but that’s only if the one I’ve already found sticks around.”

You grinned and sipped your drink.

“I don’t think she’s going anywhere any time soon.”

_________

You yelped as you felt hot tomato sauce hit your tongue, and you hurried to take a sip of water to soothe the burn. You blew on the spoon and tried again, and a smile stretched across your face from the taste; it was delicious.

With a grunt, you pulled the heavy lasagna out of the oven, and you smiled at the sight of the gooey mozzarella baked overtop of it. You’d been nervous about cooking for Steve at first, but now you were feeling more confident in what you’d made.

You’d spent hours at the bagel shop, just talking and laughing with one another. Before you knew it, he’d been getting a call from Tony Stark (the Tony Stark), and through the shouting on the other line you’d gathered that Steve was late for some kind of Avengers meeting.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Steve had apologized. “I didn’t even realize the time; I have to head in for a debriefing. I’m so sorry to cut this short-“

“Don’t be,” you’d interrupted. “I had…an amazing time with you, Steve. This might just be the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Steve had smiled so softly, so genuinely, at you, and you’d had to look away before you melted into a puddle at his feet.

“You really mean that, doll?” When you nodded, he’d reached across the table and let his hand rest over yours. “Then I’ll have a tough act to follow next time, won’t I?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. When can we do this again?”

That had been two days ago; Steve had informed you that he would be busy with “business” for a while, but the two of you had been texting almost constantly during the day. At night, he would call you and talk until your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton each. But you didn’t mind; the best way to fall asleep was to the sound of his voice.

Today, though, he’d called you in the morning, and when you’d picked up the phone you’d been afraid of him telling you that he’d been called out on another mission. To your elation, however, he only wanted to ask if you were free that evening.

And so now, you were standing in your kitchen in your best dress, checking once more over the food you’d prepared. A salad and some garlic bread were already resting on the table, and by the time he arrived, your lasagna would be cooled down enough to eat. Your hands fluttered up to your hair, making sure it was still pulled into the neat style you’d wrangled it into, and you fought the urge to run back into your bathroom to check yourself in the mirror again.

You felt your heartrate spike when you heard a knock at your door, and you forced yourself to take a deep, calming breath before walking over to open it.

Roses were the first thing you saw on its other side; the deep red blossoms were tied together in a beautiful bouquet, and if the sight of them wasn’t enough to make your toe curl, then the man who was holding them certainly was.

Steve’s hair was brushed into its signature neat look, and he was wearing a soft blue button up with a charcoal grey tie. His muscles bulged against the fabric, hugging him tightly as he straightened up and smiled down at you.

“Hey, doll. You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks were on fire as you ushered him into your apartment, and you took the bouquet of flowers into your arms when he held them out for you.

“Steve, these… They’re beautiful,” you gushed. “Thank you so much. God, I hope I have a vase for them…”

You scurried into the kitchen, searching through your cupboards and cabinets until you were able to locate a vessel to put the flowers in. All you had was a large pitcher that you hadn’t used since the previous summer to make lemonade in, but it was the only thing big enough to hold the huge bundle of roses.

“You have a, uh…real nice place, sweetheart.”

After placing the flowers in some water and setting them on the table, you turned to see Steve standing with his hands in his pockets, looking around at your space. It really wasn’t an impressive apartment, and you’d never deluded yourself into thinking it was, but it seemed even more drab and small with Steve standing in the middle of it.

His eyes were trailing along the ceiling, and you looked up to the various water stains dotted across it. You bit your lip and followed his gaze as it flitted over the old futon that served as your sofa, into your matchbox kitchen, and then further past the doorway to your bedroom. Your full-sized mattress took up most of the space, and you carefully positioned yourself in front of him so he couldn’t see any more of your poor furnishings.

“It’s not much,” you admitted. “But it’s enough. I’ve never been one of those people who feel like they need a big, nice house to be happy. I’m perfectly fine here.”

Steve smiled fondly and nodded, leaning down to peck your cheek.

“I know, doll. That’s one of the things that I like about you.”

You grinned and looked away bashfully, still able to feel his soft lips against your skin. You wondered what they would feel like against your own, and for a brief moment the image of Steve kissing you flooded your imagination.

“U-um… I made your favorite!” you hurried to say. “Lasagna. I hope you like it; if you don’t, we can always order pizza. Or there’s a Chinese place just-“

“Doll?” he interrupted. You paused in your ramblings and looked up to see one of his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I’m gonna like whatever you cook, ok? I’m sure its fantastic.”

You felt a fluttering in your chest, and for a moment all you could do was look into his kind eyes. He was so sweet; how had you gotten lucky enough to have someone like him interested in you?

“Well… Go ahead and have a seat,” you told him. “I thought we could start with some salad?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Steve folded his tall, broad frame into one of the two dining chairs you owned, and you reached over him to grab the empty glass resting next to his plate.

“Would you like some wine?”

“I’ll have some if you’re having it.”

You smiled and walked into the kitchen, pouring each of you a glass before coming back to him. As you leaned down to put his glass back on the table, you saw him glance at your cleavage out of the corner of your eye, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. The neckline of your dress had been one of the reasons you’d chosen to wear it – it wasn’t deep enough to be obscene, but it gave off a classy, subtle hint of what lay beneath.

Steve’s eyes popped back up to yours sheepishly as you sat down at the chair across from him.

“See something you like, Captain?” you teased. You were just joking around, but your pulse jumped when you saw the dark look that appeared on Steve’s face.

“Maybe I do, doll,” he purred, leaning one of his elbows across the table. It swayed with the movement, and his sultry look was quickly replaced with one of surprise.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled, pouring dressing over your salad. “It does that. One of its legs is all wobbly, so just be careful with it.”

“I could try and fix it for you,” Steve offered. “I used to fix stuff for my mom all the time growing up. Or I could just buy a new one for you.”

“You don’t have to do that! Honestly. I make do with what I have just fine.”

“But I don’t want you to just ‘make do’, doll. I want you to be well taken care of.”

“I promise it’s fine, Steve,” you smiled. “But you’re sweet to offer. Now tell me about how work has been over the past few days. I know they’ve been keeping you pretty busy at the compound.”

After that, Steve and you talked about his job, if being an Avenger could even be called that. From what you gathered, Tony had been teasing Steve incessantly about texting you all the time; Steve had even found him trying to unlock his phone so he could see who he was talking to.

“He’s not gonna leave me alone until he meets you,” he chuckled. “Tony keeps trying to get me to introduce you to the team.”

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that. I don’t think anyone would pass up an opportunity to meet the Avengers.”

“Well, you say that now, but just wait until you have to spend an evening listening to Bucky and Sam fight like an old married couple.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Doll, name a topic, any topic, and they’ll find a way to have a disagreement about it.”

You were nervous when it came time to serve him his lasagna. You scooped out a slice at least twice as big as your own for him, and you were on pins and needles as you watched him bite into it. But you really had no need to feel worried; the moan he let out upon tasting it was borderline pornographic.

“Doll, this is… amazing.”

“You mean it? You don’t have to just say what I want to hear.”

“Baby, this might be the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted; stop doubting yourself.”

You’d been too flustered from hearing him call you ‘baby’ to say anything else for a few minutes, but you found that, when the two of you were done eating, you didn’t want him to go just yet.

“Hey, Steve?” you asked hesitantly. “Would you like to stay and watch a movie with me or something?”

He’d smiled and placed his hand over yours on the table.

“I’d love that, doll. But first let me help you clean up.”

He stood up, taking his plate into the kitchen, and you hurried to do the same.

“Oh, no! Steve, you don’t have to do that! Just leave it in the sink and I’ll take care of it later.”

He’d arched an eyebrow at you, taking your plate from your hands and setting it with his in the sink. He ignored your protests and turned the faucet on, reaching for the dish soap after rolling his shirt sleeves up.

“You were kind enough to cook for me; it’s only fair that I help clean up. How about I wash and you dry?”

You did as he said, an almost goofy smile on your face as you dried the dishes before putting them away. He was so polite; you were almost convinced that he’d been created in a computer.

“What’s that look for, doll?” he asked, handing the last glass to you.

“You’re just… I really like you, Steve.” You put the glass away and turned to him with a smile, drying your hands off on your towel. “Thank you for coming over tonight.”

He took the towel from you and dried his own hands before setting them on your hips.

“Sweetheart, there’s nowhere I would rather be,” he murmured. He leaned down, his nose almost brushing yours, and you were sure he could hear how fast your heart was beating. “I know it might be a little soon, but…can I kiss you?”

You laughed, taking hold of his tie and pulling him down, closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently with a smile to match your own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his as his hands slid up your back. When his tongue darted out, seeking entry into your mouth, you gladly parted your lips for him, not able to hold back the tiny moan you made as you felt his tongue brush against yours languidly.

Both of you were breathing heavily when you pulled away, and you gasped when you felt your leg brush against his hard cock. You bit your lip as your fingers played with his hair, dragging your nails softly against his scalp.

“I… I know that it’s impolite to ask on a second date,” he murmured, “And if you don’t want to, then its completely fine. But could we-“

“Steve?” You leaned up, pressing your lips against his ear. “Please make love to me.”

You let out a squeak when you felt him pick you up, and you clung to him for dear life as he carried you into your bedroom. He was gentle when he set you down onto your feet though, and he had an almost reverent look on his face as he reached down to grab the skirt of your dress.

“Can I take this off of you?” You nodded, lifting your arms up to help him get it off. You were wearing your nicest set of lingerie, and even though you’d got it from the bargain bin at Victoria’s Secret, you felt stunning as Steve’s gaze raked over your body.

His fingertips traced the hemline of your panties, toying with the sky-blue lace before making a path up to your bra. You bit your lip as he cupped your breasts, rolling them in his palms. Meanwhile, you were undoing his tie, sliding it out of his collar and letting it fall to the floor beside your dress. As he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, you popped open his buttons, one by one, until both of your chests were bare.

“Sheesh, doll,” he breathed. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Captain.”

That same dark look from before crept into his eyes, and suddenly you were in his arms again, clinging to him as he lifted you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow, your hair splaying out wildly as he kneeled in front of you. An impressive tent had formed in his trousers, and it took all of your concentration not to lick your lips as he started pulling them off.

When the both of you were back to just your underwear, he leaned down to kiss you again, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. This time, his kiss was insistent, rough, and it sent waves of anticipation down to your core. Your lips were slick as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them to his until he looked down. His large hands cupped your ass, kneading the flesh before gripping the lace of your panties, and you gasped as you felt the fabric being torn away from your body. You were about to complain, but before you could, Steve leaned down, his beard tickling the insides of your thighs as he pressed a kiss to the top of your mound.

“I’ll buy you another pair just like them,” he promised, tossing the useless lace behind him.

Any words you might have spoken died on your tongue when you felt his finger brush against your slit, running up and down your entrance.

“You’re so wet, doll,” Steve sighed. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your fingers gripped his hair as he leaned down, tongue gently brushing against your clit. You keened, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him as his thick finger penetrated you, curling against your walls as he licked slow, delicate circles around your bud.

“I-I want you so bad, Steve,” you moaned. “Want you to make me cum…”

“I will, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” You gasped as he added another finger, hissing a bit at the sudden stretch, but his tongue once more lapped at your clit, soothing the ache in your core. “Told you I’d always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You closed your eyes, relishing the sensation of his tongue lapping at your bud. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rising and falling in time with the thrusts of his fingers. They kept brushing at that spot deep inside of you, turning all of your thoughts into white noise. The noise of the traffic outside faded away, as did the sensation of your sheets rustling against your body. There was only Steve; all you could hear were your moans and the lewd sounds of his tongue gliding against your flesh. Your pussy was clenching around his fingers, trying desperately to draw them in deeper, and you were so wet for him that there was no pain when he added a third. You just knew that you wanted more; you were so close to your peak, so desperately close.

“Steve-!” You panted, pulling his hair as your hips rolled upwards. “Captain, please, please-“

He groaned, flicking his tongue one last time over your clit, and you were gone, your back arching painfully as you found your release. You were barely aware of your own broken moans as you rode out your climax, your body slowly turning into putty as his tongue gently worked you through it. You lay limply against your mattress, only moving when your pussy became too sensitive to his touch. You tried to pull away from him, to close your legs, but he held you firmly in place, ducking down to lap at the cum leaking out of your entrance.

“Fuck, baby, I could spend an eternity between your legs,” he mumbled. “Taste so fucking good. You’re just sweet inside and out, aren’t you?”

You hummed, smiling lazily up at him as he crawled up your body. His beard and lips were slick with your juices, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping and kneading at the flesh of them.

“I’ve thought about this since our first phone call, you know,” he whispered, tracing a path with his lips down the column of your throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve like this about a dame.”

“I feel it, too, Steve.” You smiled, tightening your legs around his waist and flipping him onto his back. “It’s like we’re…”

You paused, reaching down to lace your fingers through his.

“Connected.”

He smiled, lowering his lips back to your neck, and you let out a moan as he started to suck a hickey into it. You rocked your hips, grinding your pussy against the bulge in his boxers, eliciting a choked-off moan from him.

“Please, doll,” he whispered. “I’m so hard for you – please…”

You rose up on your knees, gripping his boxers, and his hips lifted to help you tug them down. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock – you’d never taken anything that big before, not even when you got adventurous with your toys. You gulped, looking back up to Steve, who held a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he assured you. “We can go slow.”

You nodded, rising up on your knees again, gripping him in one hand and guiding him towards your entrance. You bit your lip, looking up at him one more time. He was watching you, tenderness glittering in his eyes. You took his hands, placing them on your hips, before slowly sinking down onto him.

“O-oh, my god-!” You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you, letting your forehead rest against his. You took a deep breath, sliding down further until you felt him brush against your cervix.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Just like that. Knew you would feel perfect.”

You moved your hips, wincing at the sensation, but the look on Steve’s face was enough to keep you moving. His moans sent shocks of electricity straight to your pussy, and you felt the pain start to blend beautifully with the pleasure he was bringing you.

“Steve…”

You sighed, starting to roll your hips in a fluid rhythm, bucking against him. His hands came up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples with his thumbs.

“O-oh, baby,” he grunted, starting to rock his hips up. “Yes, fuck-“

You whimpered, moving your hands to the headboard behind him. Your arms bracketed his head as you used the leverage to keep thrusting your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock until the bed was shaking beneath you.

Suddenly, though, his hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over, pounding into you as you yelped in surprise.

“Sorry, doll, it’s just-“ He grunted, gritting his teeth together. “Fuck, I just can’t help myself.”

You nodded, hands coming up to grip his hair. You pulled it roughly, arching your back up until his chest was pressed to yours. His thrusts were hard enough to knock the breath out of you, and the springs in the mattress screamed in protest.

After a particularly brutal thrust, you felt something underneath you give way, and you gasped as the bed slouched on one side, sliding the both of you to the left. You caught yourself against the bedsheets, looking over Steve’s shoulder; the man had broken one of the legs of your bedframe.

“I… Shit, doll, I’m sorry-“

You broke out into a fit of giggles, covering your face with both of your hands as you laughed.

“Oh my god, Steve, it’s ok. Please, don’t stop fucking me.”

He grinned, chuckling under his breath before starting to move his hips again. Your laughs soon turned into moans as he once more started hitting that spot inside of you, and you let your eyes close as you felt your pleasure starting to crest once again.

“Steve, fuck, I’m gonna cum-“

“That’s right, baby,” he groaned. “Cum for your Captain.”

You gasped, clawing down his back as you bucked against him, chasing your release desperately.

“Captain! Captain, oh my god-!”

Your lips parted in a silent wail as you came, your pussy spasming against him. You felt his breath, hot on your neck, your name falling out of his lips over and over again as he grew closer to his release.

“Come on, Captain Rogers,” you moaned, biting your lip. “Cum inside of me.”

He needed no further convincing; within a few seconds, you felt him spill his hot seed within you. His eyebrows were pinched together, his hips stuttering in their rhythm, lips parted in a long, low groan.

He was beautiful.

The two of you lay there, catching your breaths, for a long moment. Your sweaty skin stuck together, and you felt his cum leaking out of you around his cock. When he finally did pull out of you, you both let out a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve rolled over onto his back, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist. You looked up, sharing a smile with him, before you shifted your focus down to the dip in your bed.

“You…you really did break my bed, didn’t you?”

He laughed, and you could see a faint, red stain grow over his cheeks.

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess I did,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your temple, squeezing your hip. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, I promise. And a new dining table.”

“Steve, no, I don’t need a new table.”

He looked down at you, cupping your chin and tilting it upwards to him.

“Hey, listen to me doll,” he murmured. His voice was warm, but it had an underlying stern edge that made your eyes widen. “I wanna take care of you, and you’re gonna let me, ok? Let me spoil you; even if you don’t technically need it. Understand?”

You gulped and nodded, and a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #sugar daddy!steve #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #captain america #captain america x reader

[akinnie75]

White Hibernation

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 31k...lol

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Extreme Slow Burn, Fantasy

Summary: The tale of the Winter Bear is about a grizzly bear that’s the only bear in the entire world who doesn’t hibernate during winter. He’s considered strong for being able to fight sleep. However, being the only bear awake during winter gets lonely. So during every winter, he makes friends with children and takes their soul to be with him forever. And somewhere down the line, you get involved into the fable.

“Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?!”

Your agent, Lee Suniya, screams from the top of her lungs on the other side of the call. You keep your phone at a safe distance from your ears. You sigh exasperatedly, standing in the center of the living of your cramped, one-bedroom apartment.

Despite Suniya’s aggressive scolding, you only focus on your apartment. It’s early in the morning, never realizing how blue your apartment is. It isn’t necessarily a bold blue, more so a faint blue, naturally peeking through your blinds due to the sunrise barely at its peak. All of your furniture—couch, coffee table, vase, lamp—is white, so it only makes the baby blue stand out more.

Maybe I should change my place up a little, you think to yourself.

However, your plans for redecorating your place are disrupted by the continuous rampage coming from Suniya. Her anger only worsens your annoyance toward her. “Did you not hear a single thing I said?! Is your head empty??”

“No, can you repeat everything?”

Suniya groans frustratedly then goes silent for a few seconds before returning. “Never mind. Did you at least look online?”

Your eyes move down to your laptop that’s sitting by the edge of the white, pristine coffee table. It’s on, and it’s an article called: ‘Winter Bear’: Profiting off of a Child’s Innocence. Underneath the title is the author, (Y/N), (L/N).

“Yea, just a few minutes ago.”

“So. You knew not to write that. But why did you go ahead and do it anyway?” Suniya tries very hard not to grind her teeth, but you can clearly hear it.

You take a seat on the couch right across from your laptop. You set your phone down, putting it on speaker as you scroll through the multitudes of angry comments. There are some that catch your eye, such as ‘How could you write garbage about my daughter’s favorite movie?’, ‘You didn’t even watch the movie so your opinion is fucking pointless without proper research’, and another one being, ‘Go die in a shithole, you fucking mood-killer’.

You’ve always heard about internet figures getting a lot of online flak these days, but your article exploded out of nowhere that you haven’t gotten the time to process the negative comments. Even your email is spammed with anonymous accounts calling you degrading terms.

But another reason why it doesn’t impact you as much as it should is because it was somewhat expected. Winter Bear is a beloved, rated-PG movie that people of all ages should enjoy, but your article made it very apparent that you detest it.

“Yea, I knew not to write it, but what’s the point of me making it my career as a writer when I can’t even share my own opinions?”

“You—” But before your agent can lash out any further, she catches herself. “You’re not a writer, you’re a journalist. Writers create from inspiration, journalists rephrase what they see. Are you seriously trying to give the publication a bad rep?”

“You’re not getting the point of the article. No one is. It’s a cash-grabbing movie using a dangerous folklore—”

“I get it, I get it. But where I’m coming from is that the publishing company has no time to be dealing with a bad image at this moment. They were just getting recognized, and you just had to blow it off like that.”

“That wasn’t my intention. Look, why are people even getting pissed off over one person’s opinion? They don’t have to read my shit if they don’t want to and go enjoy their half-assed children’s movie.”

It’s at this point where Suniya has completely given up on arguing with you. Both you and Suniya are stubborn to the core, and this is how you two clash often.

“It isn’t just about a bad public image for the company, but for you. You’ll have a hard time signing deals and publishing more articles.”

That comment was like a prick to your skin. There was something about that that ticked you off, more than what the internet is saying about you.

“What the hell is wrong with me sharing my thoughts? If these faceless assholes are allowed to leave comments on my article, then I can say and do whatever too!”

“(Y/N), calm down! Why are you getting upset?! Listen to me when I say this: I know where you’re coming from. I know that movie is a sensitive topic for you, but that still doesn’t mean that you should—”

“Don’t bring it up.”

The line goes silent for a while before she returns. “Alright, fine. On the bright side, this seems like a short-term consequence, so the most we can do is wait for this to die down. I gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

She hangs up, and you get the urge to throw your phone across the room. However, you don’t have the kind of money to break your phone and get a new one, so instead, you throw it against the couch pillow. It’s irritating when nobody understands you. If the general public weren’t sheeples, then it would be easier for you to explain your side. Not even Suniya truly knows where you’re coming from.

You go back to your laptop, your article receiving new comments by the second. You want to respond to them and tell them to go to hell. There are more controversial topics out there in the world, so why go to your article and attack you? You’ve already caused enough trouble for your agent, so it’s better to leave it alone.

You lay down on your couch when a sudden chill runs up your spine. You check the temperature on your phone, and it’s been getting colder lately with winter getting closer.  What sort of first-world struggles are those angry commentators going through to give them the right to downgrade you?

Regret begins to play with your head, suggesting that you should call Suniya back and apologize to her for exploding. You turn on your phone, seeing four contacts on your phone: your parents, Suniya, and your publication site’s office number. You press on Suniya’s number, letting the line ring before directing to voicemail.

With a sigh of disappointment, you get off of the couch with that feeling of regret going to eat you up for the rest of the day. You try to forget about it, pushing your mind to think about something else than to focus heavily on it. You repeat to yourself over and over that you need to eat breakfast.

You look through the fridge that’s filled with only microwavable food, some vegetables, soda, and that one vegan mandarin chicken pack that you promised to eat when you were still dieting. On the bottom shelf is leftover pizza from last night. You close the fridge then rummage through the white-painted cabinets. You hand maneuvers around the canned corn and beans, packaged dry pad-thai noodles, and shoving the Maruchan cup noodles away. You grab the rainbow, fruit-flavored cereal box, opening the top to check if there’s still some. You pop one into your mouth to check if it’s still in edible condition. Although a bit stale, you can eat it.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted to eat leftover dinner or cereal for breakfast, so you ended up picking both. Rushing back to the fridge, you take out a slice of cold pizza and the half-gallon of milk, putting the pizza on a plate and into the microwave. It’s not the healthiest meal, but you’re not in the mood to be thinking about your weight.

As it warms up, you grab the remote from the living room, turning on the TV. You skip through channels with the press of a button until you get to a decent enough channel that’s playing a rerun of a sitcom show. It’s about a group of poor college graduates struggling to live in New York.

Your attention is taken away by your microwave beeping when it’s done reheating your pizza. You poke the pizza to make sure that the cheese has melted, then you take a bite of it. It doesn’t taste as fresh as when you first got it, but it still tastes savory.

“This...is...awesome!” A child’s voice shouts from the TV.

Dramatic drums and high-pitched violins play after the show goes on a commercial break. You turn around to see a trailer of a kids’ movie.

“Who...are you?” the child continues.

Each scene of the trailers lasts for a few seconds to keep the viewers’ short attention span engaged. On the screen is a young child who seems to be around eight or nine years old in a snowy forest. The child is on its knees, face-to-face with a shadowy monster before displaying itself as a fun, lovable grizzly bear licking the child’s face.

“I have to return home. Can you help me?”

“Come with us...on an epic journey,” A narrator voices over. “Filled with fun...”

The child and bear jump over rocks as they laugh.

“Adventure…”

The pair find an entirely undiscovered part of the forest, though it’s just a more expanded version of the same setting that it takes place in, just brighter lighting and more sunlight.

“And friendship.”

The next scene is when the child and the bear are cuddling together late at night to keep each other warm from the freezing temperature.

“Bears are supposed to be sleeping during winter, but you’re not,” the child ponders. “But...I’m glad that you’re awake. I don’t feel so lonely anymore.”

“Critics say ‘it’s tender’...‘entertaining’...‘everything my child has always wanted in a movie’.” The narrator continues as five yellow stars would be slapped onto a frame of an overview of the forest. “Winter Bear. Coming soon on December 20th.”

The next thing you know, you throw the pizza at the screen out of impulsive anger. The tomato sauce splatters all over the carpet, TV, and some on the coffee table. It instantly slips off the TV, landing and staining the carpet more. It felt good at that moment to lash out on the movie trailer, but not anymore after seeing the mess that you created. But once rational thinking sets in, you’re frustrated with yourself for what you’ve done. You hurriedly look for wipes then run to the TV to clean it.

As you wipe with tenacity, some uninvited memories seep in. You go back to when you were a child, holding the hand of a child whose face you can’t see, or at least, don’t want to see. The environment that surrounds you is a white forest, silence freezing every noise possible, just you and the person standing side-by-side.

You rest your forehead on the sauce-stained TV, sighing heavily as you try to forget what happened long ago. You turn to the fallen pizza, glaring at it with disdain as the red, bloody sauce soaks into what was once a white carpet that blended into the blue morning.

“He doesn’t help kids...he steals them.”

———

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), you really need to start eating healthier food. Look at your stomach, I’m beginning to see a muffin top.” Suniya jokes as she playfully hits your stomach with a pepperoni sausage.

Suniya is walking ahead of you as you push the shopping cart. She decided to tag along with you to go grocery shopping, implying that this get-together is to make up for the argument that unfolded days prior to this.

“I would eat better if the healthier options were cheaper and tasted better.”

“Hey, there are healthy foods that are cheap too, you know. You just choose not to eat it. Plus, you’re not a kid anymore. Suck it up and eat gross shit for the sake of being in shape,” This is ironic coming from Suniya, since she isn’t in the best shape either. “Maybe you should get a gym membership and start working out. Who knows, maybe you’ll start attracting people.”

“Mm-hmm,” You faintly listen to her as you’re trying to decide on which graham cracker brand you want to buy. “Oh yea, which pizza brand do you think has the least amount of tomato sauce?”

Suniya sulks, a little annoyed that you aren’t listening to her, but this is typical for you to be like that with her. “I dunno. Figure it out yourself. Why?”

“Eh,” you shrug your shoulders. “The sauce is the messiest part of the pizza. Do you think I should start eating hot pockets?”

She raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t fucking know. Pick both if it makes it easier.”

“No, but pizza is messy. I wanna know if hot pockets are not as messy with the sauce.”

“Why does it matter? Just use a napkin or don’t eat like a toddler!”

“...I’ll go with hot pockets.”

You push the cart ahead of Suniya as she stares at you with a look of disbelief. No matter how long you two have known each other, she will never understand how your brain is wired. She shakes her head, shrugging it off as one of your unusual habits again.

“By the way, your mother called me. She said you weren’t picking up the phone and she wanted to know if you’re doing alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“...Why don’t you just call her back and tell her that?”

“I have you to pass on my message.”

“You know…” her tone deepens. “Your mom wants to talk to you directly. She wants to know how you’re doing in your voice.”

“What difference will it make? She’ll just pretend that she’s worried about me but all she’s gonna do is yell at how I can’t take care of myself and I need a new job.”

She sighs. “But she’s still your mom. You can’t forget that she raised you.”

“I’ll call her later. I have some more articles to write and I don’t need the distraction.”

But she knew that you meant never, you just wanted to end the conversation. She looks through the aisles, clearly frustrated with your lack of keeping a conversation going.

“You know, you shouldn’t worry about work so much.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all you ever think about. Don’t you have anything else that you’re passionate about? Like, I dunno, making friends, going out, finding a boyfriend?”

“Not really. I haven’t put much thought into any of those. They’re a waste of time and money.”

“(Y/N),” she puts her hand to her hips. “Your isolation is only going to drive you even more insane. You won’t have anyone to rely on, and you’re just going to be miserable.”

A vein protrudes from your forehead, but your expression remains stagnant. “But I have you, don’t I?”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t just rely on me. I have a family to take care of. And you should also.”

Even though you behave as if you’re ignoring her, her words bleed into your brain. You know too well that you’re getting closer to the age of settling into a life of family-hood, but it isn’t Suniya who decides what you have to do with your life. Still, what she says makes your chest ache, the desire to deny her claims of your spiral to insanity, all the while being completely aware of her concerns.

Suniya’s phone rings, so she takes it out from her purse to see an unknown number on her screen. She accepts the call, putting it to her ear.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice can be heard from the other line. Other than a ‘hi’, you can’t make what she’s saying, and Suniya’s lack of expression doesn’t help either.

“Uhm...yes. She is with me.”

An eyebrow raises, your curiosity peaking. You stare at her, squinting your eyes. She does look at you, but she doesn’t say anything to fill in the blanks.

“Sure.”

She hands the phone to you. You’re confused, looking at the phone and wondering what to do with it. She nudges it to you, so you take it.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Is this (Y/N)?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Hi, my name is Kim, and I’m calling because I read your article the other day.”

Assuming that this is an angry reader, you’re about to hang up the phone when Suniya raises her hands up, signaling for you not to. You silently sigh, putting the phone back to your ear.

“You did?”

“I did! And I absolutely loved it!”

“Oh, really?” But it takes a few seconds for you to let that sink in. “Wait, really??”

“Yes! I reread it hundreds of times, and everything you said accurately portrays exactly how I feel about the movie as well.”

You glance at Suniya, and she smiles, nodding to let you know that this isn’t a prank. You’re at a loss of words that there’s someone who genuinely enjoyed your article. No one’s ever reached out to give you compliments, so you don’t know what to say.

“Uhm, thank you.”

“It’s no big deal. I saw the feedback you received, and it seems like not a lot of people liked it. You see, I’m a mythologist. I study extensively on the Winter Bear folklore. Based on the information on your publication’s website, it doesn’t seem like you know anything about it, but you nailed every detail of the myth precisely.”

“...Yea.”

“What I wanted to talk about is that I would like you to help me with my research on the Winter Bear.”

You crease your eyebrows. “...Excuse me?”

“You see, even though I study myth, I have a strong feeling that this isn’t some mere local folklore. You seem to know a lot about it, and I would like to get to know you more. Perhaps even go to the town to investigate more about it.”

“No.” You’re about to hang up again.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

You give her a third chance, putting the phone back to your ear.

“I can compensate for your help in return! We can help each other. I’m trying to write a book and get it published before the Winter Bear movie comes out. I want to expose the real story behind, not the watered-down, kiddy version of it.”

She piques your interest. “Go on.”

“In return, I’ll help back up your article, I’ll even reference and credit you for aiding me in the research. As long as we’re able to complete the book before the release of the movie, then it’s going to be a hit. Imagine all the clicks you’re going to get in your article after my book is published. You’ll definitely make more than you can ever imagine with any ordinary article.”

“I’ve already received enough criticism as it is with just the trailer. How is a full-length movie and your book going to benefit me?”

“It’s going to be a bit...greedy of me to say, but you aren’t paid by the number of nice comments you get. You get it by how many people click on your online articles. If you ignore the negative comments, didn’t you notice that your pay got relatively higher than normal?”

As much as you don’t want to admit it, it’s true. “Yes.”

“That’s what I’m saying! That’s why we gotta get this finished before the movie. What do you say?”

You fall silent, and it makes Kim think that you actually hung up this time. Talking about the town where the tale of the Winter Bear brings up the memories again. You remember looking down at your small hands, pressing it on the snow as you knelt down. The stiffness in your hands from the cold perfectly describes how you’re feeling right now. It’s strange, when you look back to the time when you were there during winter, it was dead silent.

Your numb hands, stuck in the unforgiving snow, not a sound to comfort you in this recycling memory. It’s strange, it’s only your hands that are cold, not your knees, not your face, nothing. Are you ready to go to that place that you tried so hard to forget? Can you unveil those childhood memories?

You recall that toddler. It was only a split second, but every detail of her is vivid. That baby blue-striped dress, wearing a pink parka over it. Her tiny brown boots treading through the snow, being matted by the pure white. She turns around, and she resembles you a lot.. Her nose red and runny, yet the brimming smile on her face is the only sunlight of that gray memory. The silence is filled with her childish laughter that’s devoid of flaws, as she had yet to be tainted by the world.

“Annie.” Your past-self calls her.

“I’ll do it.”

“That’s great! Then I’ll send you an email and we can set up a day to go to the town. I look forward to working with you in the near future.”

“Yea.”

She hangs up.

“So, what did she say?”

“She wants to work with me.”

“Really?? That’s great! So, how is it going to work out?”

You aren’t entirely sure. You agreed to it on a whim without putting much thought on the consequences. Now you’re a little regretful for saying yes, especially since you don’t want anything to do with it, but since you dedicated an entire article on it, it must mean that a part of you wants to return. You don’t know how your brain works sometimes, like you go into autopilot and another force makes the decisions for you.

“We’re going to the town where that movie took inspiration from, Little Bare.”

———

At the bustling train station, Suniya helps push you through the tight crowd. You keep looking down at your phone, squinting at a picture that Kim took of herself. You’ve never met her in person and most of your conversations with her took place through phone calls and text messages. This will be the first time you’ll see her in person.

“Why the hell is the station so busy on a Tuesday?!” Suniya whines.

Standing right under the ‘Station E’ sign is Kim. She’s a lot shorter than you thought, standing at approximately 4’10”. Her black-framed glasses and messy bun along with her back slouching really gives the impression that she spends a lot of time sitting down, probably reading or researching, and you’re not far from your assumption. She’s focused on writing in her notebook, not paying attention to her surroundings whatsoever, not even caring when a salaryman bumped into her.

“Excuse me, are you Kim?”

She looks up and immediately closes her book. “Hello! You’re (Y/N), right?”

You nod.

She extends her hand out for a handshake, and you take it, taking notice of how sweaty they are. “It’s nice to finally meet you! Is that your agent?”

“Hello, I’m Suniya. We spoke on the phone before.”

“Right, I remember. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Suniya nods. “Yes. The train should be arriving soon, so do you mind if I talk to you for a bit, Miss Kim?”

“Sure.”

She pulls Kim aside, far enough from you. You know that she’s going to be talking about you, but you don’t pay too much attention to it.

“What is it that you need to talk to me about privately?”

“It’s about (Y/N).”

“Hm? What about her?”

Suniya looks at you, seeing as you’re looking down at your phone. “You see…since I’m not coming on this trip with you guys, can I request you to take care of her?”

Kim is a little taken aback, as you seemed like a fully grown adult who is capable of taking care of yourself. “Sure…”

“You see...she’s a bit...disconnected.”

She wrinkles her eyebrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s hard to explain, but I think she has selective memory loss. She experienced some trauma that still affects her today—so much that she tends to block anything that stresses her out too much because that’s how she’s always dealt with her problems. So if she’s spacing out, then that’s why.”

From the distance, you blend well with the crowd, no different than a modern citizen focused on her phone. You don’t look lost—you look so sure of yourself like nothing disturbs you. Your outward appearance doesn’t make you sound like the description that Suniya gave.

“Selective as in, she can willingly forget things?”

She nods. “I don’t know what happened, but whatever she went through as a child, it must’ve been that bad that she doesn’t have any recollection of it. I don’t mean to scare you, but if she behaves abnormally, don’t be afraid to call me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take good care of her. If I feel comfortable working with her, then I would��ve long since canceled our plans.” She smiles.

Still, Suniya is unsure. It feels wrong, talking about you in this way.

———

On the train, you and Kim are sitting across from each other. The slight bumps create a rhythmic sound as the train speeds to your destination, and there is a lack of conversation from other passengers with the only voice being the overhead of an automated woman alerting the passengers of their next stops. You sit by the window, watching the bushes pass by faster than the mountains from a distance. Kim is on her laptop, typing at the speed of light.

“I might be prying a bit too much, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask.”

“Hm?”

“Have you been to Little Bare before?”

You don’t respond—you don’t even look at her.

“Sorry, I stepped over the line. I was just curious because you seem to have more information than your typical person—”

“Yea, I went there once.”

She wasn’t expecting you to answer, so she stutters with her next line of words.

“My family and I went on a road trip during winter break. We got stuck in a blizzard and stayed at the inn there until it died down.”

“Oh, that’s very interesting!” She puts it down in her notebook. “Do you remember what you did there?”

“...Not really.” You lie.

“Oh…” She clears her throat to get rid of the uncomfortable atmosphere she created. “Well...it’s a good thing we’re going back. It’ll help you regain those memories again.”

“How did you know that I went there before?”

“I just assumed because you seem to know a little more about that folklore, not the watered-down version of it.”

“Yea.”

After that, neither of you say anything. This must be what Suniya was saying when she said that you don’t look like you’re paying attention, or you’re distracted by something else. She keeps herself busy by going back to her notebook.

———

At Little Bare, you and Kim exit the train. The wind blows against your hair, giving you the chills. You put your hands in your pocket while you stare at the town that haunts you. Every building is made out of wood, and the newer ones are built from bricks. The town is so small that you can see where it ends from the other side.

“It’s so cold! It’s supposed to have its first snow tonight, so it makes sense. But holy crap...I already can’t stand it.”

The train leaves, leaving you and Kim in a town nearly desolated. It lacks human contact, not a single person in sight. And there it is again—the dead silence. It was there before, and it hasn’t left. You wouldn’t describe it as nostalgia, but a boogeyman welcoming you back to your nightmare.

“Where do we even go?”

“I think down here.”

You walk down the staircase, hearing dead leaves being crushed beneath your feet. You enter through the main entrance of the town with a tall sign towering over you and Kim that reads: ‘Welcome to Little Bare’. You inspect the town, and the buildings made out of wood have turned dark brown after soaking in morning fog and rain. Resting your hand on the walls seems like it’s enough to give you splinters. It isn’t only the buildings that show after-signs of rain, but the streets as well. There are wet patches in the street, giving off the strong scent of wet black tar.

“Is...this the right place? It looks like a ghost town.”

You shake your head. “It’s exactly the same as I remembered.”

The general store is still there the last time you were here, one of the first buildings you’ll see when you enter this place. Directly across the street is the bar, just as empty as it was in the past during the day. The only difference is that everything has aged dramatically, those twenty years taking a  toll on the town.

“Where is everybody?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“There’s no reception here because of the high elevation, so I can’t pull up a map. There’s no physical map of this place either.”

You and Kim creep into the town more, with her peeking through the large glass windows of the general store. Her eyes light up when she sees someone standing by the front cash register. An elderly man, sitting on a chair with his back slouched, reading a newspaper.

“Oh, there’s somebody there,” you point at the man. “Let’s ask them for directions.”

You both move closer to the store, and once you’re close enough, the old man notices you two. When making eye contact with you two, Kim waves her hand as a means of greeting him. Rather than returning the greeting, the elderly man grabs a broomstick and walks out of the store, raising the broom over his head and jogging right toward you two.

“Get the hell outta here before I beat your asses myself!”

You and Kim step back, raising your hands to defend yourselves. She grabs onto your arm, and you cling onto her sleeve.

“Wait, wait, wait!” She shouts. “We’re just tourists!”

“I said get outta here! We don’t need no city people here to take what’s ours!”

“We’re not here to take anything!!”

“I said get out!!”

“What’s going on?!” An overweight woman runs out of the room. “Honey! What the fucking shit are you doing?!”

The man stops and turns around, seeing his wife marching after him. She slaps him on the back multiple times, so much that he drops the broom and waves his hands as a means of protection. After hitting him until he’s tame, the woman turns to you and Kim.

“I’m so sorry for my husband. We just had some unwanted guests come by a few days ago givin’ us some papers to sign thinkin’ we can’t read shit, so we’re all on guard,” she puts her hands to her hips. “The name’s Margaret, and this brainless man is Gerald. So, what brings two beautiful, young women here?”

You two look at each other, then back at the woman.

“Uhm..My name’s Kim. We’re here to research the myth of the Winter Bear.”

Upon bringing up the name, Margaret’s smile disappears. “Oh god...you really are just like them. So then, you girls better give me one good reason to welcome you guys in. Otherwise, I’m gonna have to kick your asses outta here.”

And just like that, someone who you two thought was civilized quickly turns sour. Knowing the amount of pain that she can enforce, you and Kim are faced with a ticking time bomb. Kim desperately flips through her notebooks, seeing if she can show any of her records to impress her.

“Uhm...wait, please, Mrs. Margaret! We don’t know who you’re talking about, but w-we have no intention of hurting anyone. I-if you look at my notes, you can tell that I’m genuinely interested in writing about this myth! Y-you see, I’m an author, and Miss (Y/N) is a journalist. We’re working together!”

But this doesn’t convince Margaret at all. She glares at you two, picking up the broom Gerald dropped. Kim freaks out more, seeing if she can find anything to offer.

“We have money! We can pay for anything!!”

That doesn’t work either. For a writer, she does a poor job of persuading. You try to think of anything to support Kim. You look around, biting your nail as sweat begins to form. You hate this—being put on the spot to problem-solve. It makes you dizzy, making you want to escape as soon as possible.

You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking of the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ve been here before!”

Margaret stares at you, raising an eyebrow. You got her attention, so you take this chance to breathe.

“I came here during winter...when I was a child.”

The fury burning underneath Margaret’s eyes turns into sympathy. She lowers the broomstick, tears forming in her eyes as if she reunited with a long lost relative. To your surprise, she wraps her arms around you, catching both you and Kim off guard.

“You poor girl.”

Kim is absolutely confused. She looks at you in hopes of getting an explanation, but your expression is blank. You’re overwhelmed with multiple emotions, coming all together at once unsure of how to express them at once. It’s like when all colors come together to make white. The only thing you can do is hug her back.

———

On the second floor of the general store, you and Kim are sitting in their almost run-down kitchen. The flowery wallpapers are peeling, brown and yellow stains running down until it hits the dusty floorboards, and age-old grease stains and black food chunks occupying the stove. There’s also a gigantic hole in the ceiling.

Margaret sets down a tray of hot chamomile tea on the table. “Sorry for our shitty first impression. Things have just been so heated lately that we’re stressed out of our minds.”

You and Kim take a cup, blowing it before drinking, but Kim drinks it without issue. You want to rest your arms on the table, but it’s so sticky that it makes you quiver just thinking about the last time it was ever cleaned.

“It’s okay! From the looks of it, you guys went through a lot,” Kim replies in an optimistic tone. “What happened?”

Margaret grabs a nearby chair and sits down, placing her elbow on the table without hesitation and running her hand through her gray, curly hair. “We got these big companies, Dismaland or whatever the fuck their name is, demanding that we turn our town into a tourist attraction for a  movie they’re making. You know, those family-friendly kinds. I dunno much ‘bout it since the mayor is the one who spoke to them, but we turned it down. Since then, they’ve been harassing us to sign their papers, so every young-lookin’ person dressed almost like you guys, we try kicking them out.”

You never realized how bad it’s gotten here. It was just as hostile as you remember in your memories, but a little worse since your parents were there to defend you.

“I swear to God, we’re nice people, but we gotta put up our guard if those bastards keep on coming back,” she sighs heavily. “But to be brutally honest, I really do think we need the money. As you can tell, our place is a shithole, and those big guys are willing to give us a small portion of the money.”

“But it isn’t really about the money, is it?” You ask.

She doesn’t respond immediately. Rather, she nods.

“You’re damn right. Those corporations don’t realize that they’re creating the biggest graveyard in history.”

Kim’s eyes widen, covering her mouth as she stares at you and Margaret. “No way...you mean to tell me…”

Margaret nods again. “This ‘Winter Bear’ ain’t no fable. It’s real.”

Kim places her hands flat on the tables. “Kids actually go missing?! I knew it! Everything was just too suspicious to be simply a story.”

“Yea, so even if we need the money to keep the town going, we ain’t gonna risk some kids’ lives for it.”

“Wait,” Kim pauses. “So then...if the disappearances of children are real, then what’s the actual cause of it? Don’t tell me it’s actually a bear.”

She shakes her head. “We don’t know either. All we know is that once the kids go into the forest, they don’t come back.”

Margaret glances at you, but you avoid her gaze. You act as if you have nothing to do with the conversation, sipping the tea.

“But that doesn’t make sense. Bears hibernate during winter and these disappearances happen around this time. Wouldn’t it make more sense that it’s some other animal or a person? Not a bear. And only winter?” Kim scratches her head.

“Not to sound like a smartass, but bears actually don’t hibernate.”

“What?? Really?”

“They sleep longer during the winter to save energy, but they wake up in case of danger or hunger. It is possible that you can still encounter a bear.”

“So then...do you think it’s possible that bears eat the children due to the lack of food?”

Margaret shrugs her shoulders. “That could be it, but let me ask you this: wouldn’t you think a bear would leave traces of the child? Clothes? Blood? Something? They disappear into thin air, almost like they never existed.”

This sends chills down Kim’s spine. She’s heard of this many times, but hearing it from an actual resident who has lived through children going missing is terrifying...but also intriguing.

“That means that we have to check the forest! Wait, Miss (Y/N), you said that you came here before. If kids go missing, then how did you survive?”

You stare at the wall, noticing how particularly yellow it is. Judging by how dirty the place is, it makes you wonder if the wallpaper was white but got stale as time went by. You’ve been very quiet, not bothering to put your input, and this concerns Margaret. She knew that Kim was stepping over her boundaries.

“...(Y/N)?” Kim asks. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yea, I’m fine.”

“After your tea, I can show you young ladies where to go for the inn.”

Kim doesn’t read the atmosphere, not seeing how uncomfortable you’ve become. You clench onto the teacup, pinching the handle with all your might. You were confident when the thought of coming here sprung up, but being physically here is more demanding than you could’ve ever imagined.

———

Some time has gone by since the visit to Margaret’s place. She showed you two around the place, introducing you to some of the residents. Some of them you remember, but others you don’t. They don’t recognize you either, and Margaret is kind enough not to share your name with them. Once she’s finished showing you two around town, she eventually leads you two to the inn.

In the room, Kim is taking a shower while you sit by the edge of your bed. Despite struggling to find reception, the inn miraculously has some, although a bit slow. You have over fifty text messages from only two people—Suniya and your mother. Both of their messages are asking how you and Kim are doing. However, you turn off your phone, sighing as you toss it aside. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling fan blanketed with dust. The fan itself looks like it’ll fall any second, seeing as it shakes even from the lightest movement.

You were naive to think that your problems will be solved if you stepped into Little Bare again. It’s more complicated than you expected, and now you want out. However, you’ve already promised to work with Kim; you can’t break the deal. You wish Suniya was here to yell at you, to tell you that you’ve made a dumb decision. That way, it would at least sound like she cares. Even though you’ve gotten to know Kim a little more, it still feels like you’ve stranded yourself on a foreign land.

And that image of the little girl, Annie, continuously appearing every time you close your eyes. Every corner of this town reminds you of her, like a ghost haunting you. You can sense her presence in the corner of the room, purposely watching you with hollow, blackened holes for eyes. She’s standing there in her pink parka and blue-striped dress, waiting for you to make your next move.

You groan, rubbing your eyes. You apply enough pressure that your eyes are being pushed back, rubbing so fast that your skin turns red. No matter how much you try to push the thoughts away, she just keeps coming back. Just as Kim exited the room, you get off the bed, taking your jacket and heading straight to the door.

“Where are you going? You look like you’re in a rush to start a mission.”

“It’s too small in here. I need some fresh air.”

“O-oh, okay...but please stay safe! Who knows what kinds of creeps are out there.”

“I will. Thanks.” You open the door and close it behind you.

———

You walk around, hands in the pockets of your jacket. There is no wind, but the drop in temperature stiffens your muscles. Just like in the morning, no one is occupying the streets. It’s just you, alone, with your bothersome thoughts. It manifests into a black aura, clinging onto the back of your head.

You thought about heading to Margaret’s place just to get things off of your chest, but you change your mind. She never directly stated it, but she knew who you were and what you went through. It was an odd moment that she sympathized with you without knowing exactly what had happened.

A flashy neon sign catches your attention. It’s in the shape of a brown beer bottle, pouring bubbles into a glass wine. It’s the bar that’s across the street of the general store called Bar & Grill. You’re not a drinker, but when your stress gets overwhelming, you tend to be persuaded by the lust of alcohol. Wanting to get rid of this black aura looming, you make the decision to enter the bar.

———

Your head is on the counter table, your arms around it to hide your red face. The inside of the place has very few people, only a few men who just came back from work, but even these men are barely whispering a word. The bartender stands on the other side of the counter, cleaning the glass cups with a white cloth.

“Hey, Miss. Do you have someone to take you home?”

You groan.

The bartender sighs. “You’re a young woman. Do you know how easy it is to be preyed on?”

“I can...handle myself,” you raise your head up, one eye open. “I practically raised myself! What makes you think I’m irresponsi...ble? You dunno me.” You slur your words.

The bartender sets the cup down, putting her hand on her hip and leaning on the counter. She isn’t sure if your red, watery eyes are because you drank so much or if you’re becoming emotional.

“You’re one of those researchers that came here earlier today, huh? Marge told me,” she shakes her head. “Jesus Christ, you city people really don’t know the limits to drinking.”

Next to you are five empty beer cups with the foam sliding down on the sides. You snicker at how much you drank, followed by a hiccup. “Wow, you’re right. I’m usually good at self-control. I know how to control my problems, but tonight is not one of those times.”

“It’s not that you’re good at controlling your problems. You’re just good at avoiding them. Marge told me about you, and no offense, but she thinks it’s fucking strange that you don’t look like you’re bothered that your sister was taken away by that monster. But I disagree. You’re pretending like it ever happened.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to assume how I feel??”

“Our place is practically off-coordinates with maps, but we still have those runaways who come to the bar every so often. You’re no different from them. So…”

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She crosses her arms. “I won’t tell anybody. We pretend that tonight never existed.”

You rummage your hand through your messy hair, calming down. It might be the toxication persuading you, but you’re not comfortable telling her.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Oh really?”

“I don’t want to, and it’s because I don’t know how to talk about it. If I can’t even talk to my mom about it, then why the hell do you think I can tell you? When I did want to bring Annie’s disappearance up, my mom would change the subject. It’s not only that, but it was like...she wanted to make me disappear too. And I know it’s because she fucking blames me for losing her, and seeing my face reminds her that she lost her baby. She always favored Annie anyway, so it wasn’t surprising that when she went missing, she...she said…”

You have a flashback of when you were a child during the aftermath. You and your parents returned safely home but without Annie. Your six-year-old mind thought that if you stared at Annie’s cradle in your parents’ bedroom every so often, she would magically return. But to your dismay, your efforts were in vain, and she never appeared.

One night, you woke up from a repeating nightmare of the day you lost her, so to soothe your racing heart, you jumped out of your bed and ran to their bedroom to look at her cradle, praying that she’s there. But rather than seeing your parents asleep, they’re sitting by the edge of the bed. Your mother is curled into a ball, sobbing profusely while your father makes attempts to comfort her with shallow pats on the back. In between her cries, you heard:

“Why couldn’t it have been (Y/N)?”

Returning from a trip to the past, taking your wallet out and paying with cash. You put on your coat and head straight to the exit.

“Where are you going?” The bartender asks.

“To sleep.”

You march right out the bar, massaging your head. After opening the doors, you step out and nearly tripped. For a second, your foggy mind thought you stepped through a hole, but it turns out to be snow. Some time has gone since you’ve been holed up in the bar that it already began snowing and it’s piled up.

You wobble to the empty forest, leaving a trace of your footprints. You despise being anywhere near the empty forest that surrounds Little Bare, but with alcohol, you think you’re invincible. You stand in front of the forest, being unable to see into the distance with the fog blocking your view. But amongst the fog, there is an apparition.

You squint your eyes, but they fail to make sense of what stands far away. But what you can make of the figure is that it’s small and crouched over. It’s alive, moving around but at the same time, staying in the same spot. It isn’t far, but it isn’t that close either.

Your mind immediately draws to that apparition being a bear. That bear that took everything away from you--your little sister, your chance at a childhood, a shot at a proper adult life, everything. Anger spurs within you, no longer having that rationality in your fragile mind. Within a spur of impulse, you pick up a rock the size of your hand, pulling it back and throwing directly toward the bear.

“FUCK YOU!” You shout from the top of your lungs.

Despite the influence of alcohol, you nailed the apparition right at its head. It falls to the ground, the sound of a ‘plop’ echoing. In that brief act of revenge, victory overcame you. You nearly raise your hands up in celebration, thinking that you defeated your arch-nemesis. But you manage to return to your senses, realizing that the apparition isn’t a figment of your imagination...but an actual person. Then your adrenaline fades away.

You trek through the thick snow, hopping through it until you enter the forest, whilst tripping and stumbling. You lean over the black figure, rubbing your eyes to make sure that what you’re seeing is real. Unable to stand straight, you fall backward and land on your bottom. After blinking, dread sets in when you realize that it’s a child.

“Oh my god...oh no...help...”

You try to stand up to look for help, but once you do, your vision turns black and you become light-headed. Nausea hits you, wrapping your hand around your stomach to control your gag reflexes. The alcohol, lack of food and water, combined with the high elevation comes altogether, making you fall down again.

As your eyelashes flutter, there’s a flashlight illuminating from the direction where you came from. Just when you’re about to close your eyes, the young boy’s body grows exponentially, growing to an exact size of a fully-grown adult right before you.

———

“Mom! Dad! I made a best friend!! He lives in a cave in the forest with the black trees...No! I’m not lying. He really does live there! He’s six years old like me...What? He’s real!! He doesn’t live with a mom and dad, but he said that he lives with kids like me and him too…

“And I told him that I would show him Annie, too...”

“Don’t…!” You sit up in an unfamiliar room in a cold sweat and heavy breathing.

You’re on a clean bed, made of pure white. On the walls, there are drawings of the human anatomy, motivational quotes plastered on a piece of paper with words such as ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’ and ‘be calm and exercise’.

Next the bed is Kim, startled by you suddenly waking up. “(Y/N)?! Are you okay??”

You look at your hand that’s trembling violently, but now that you’re conscious, the hangover hits you hard like a bullet. That massive headache and your stomach twisted in a knot. There’s a lump in your throat with the urge to throw up, but there’s nothing that’s coming out.

“Where...is this place?”

“It’s the clinic. The bartender found you unconscious with a man in the woods and thought that he was trying to take advantage of you.”

“A man…?”

You search through with what very little that you remember last night. You went to the bar to waste away, then you walked out. There was someone in the forest—a young boy. It was too dark to make sense of the boy’s details, but you just knew based on his shape that it was definitely a male.

“No...no…” You squeeze your eyes shut, enduring the pestering headache as you shake your head. “It...it was a boy. A kid.”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow. “There were no kids around, just the man. They’re interrogating him right now.”

You don’t recall a man being there. You must’ve been that fucked up to mistaken a man for a child. Even though it shouldn’t be an issue, it’s bothering you a lot. You remove the blanket, attempting to get out of bed before Kim stops you.

“What are you doing??”

“I have to see the man.”

“No! The doctor advised that you sit. You haven’t been eating, so you’re light-headed.”

“Let me see him. I need to.”

“Stop being crazy and just rest! They made food for you, so just eat and sleep.”

She puts her arms on you, but you gently push her hands away. “I will after I see him.”

You get out of bed, trying to stand but the light-headedness sets in. Your vision turns black briefly, causing you to stumble over your feet. Kim comes to the aid, helping you balance.

“See? I told you. Just rest.”

“No...I’m good. Do you know where this guy’s room is?”

Seeing how adamant you are about it, she decides to give in. “He’s in the room next to you.”

You head out of the room, walking slowly so that you don’t fall, then exiting the room. In the halls, there’s nobody, making it easier for you to head into the other room without any interruptions. You twist the doorknob, swinging it open to find the doctor and policeman, assuming by the uniforms that they’re wearing for their designated jobs. They turn to you, caught off-guard by your entrance.

The man that you’re looking for is on the bed, tilting his head when you two make eye contact. He has a long face, void of a smile. His black hair is frizzy and curly, strands of it flying all directions as if he just woke up. There are bandages wrapped around his head. After that short contact, he looks away, grabbing the doctor’s sleeve and using it to hide his face.

“Miss (Y/N)? What are you doing up?” The doctor asks.

Kim follows from behind.

“Miss Kim, I told you to watch over her.”

“I’m sorry...but she was persistent in seeing him.”

“Him…?”

Now that you have gotten your opportunity to meet with the man, you don’t know what to do. You stand still, at a loss of words when you meet the man that you ran into the forest. Perhaps you really did run into a man, not a child. You were under the influence, after all.

“Miss (Y/N),” the policeman starts. “Since you seem well enough to be standing, can I have a word with you?”

“Sure…”

———

“Amnesia?”

Returning back to your room, the policeman explains what they were discussing earlier. Kim had returned to the hotel room to give you and the police some privacy, and the doctor is staying with the man.

He sits with his hands folded on his lap, giving you a serious expression. “Yes. It’s a minor blunt-force trauma to the head, like something no bigger than a rock.”

“Oh my god…I was the one who hit him.”

“Did he try to assault you?”

You shake your head. “I did out of anger, but not at him. I was drunk and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

You fear that you’ll get in trouble, but you’re more fearful of the condition that you left the young man in. You weren’t expecting your throw to be that strong. The policeman scratches his beard, figuring out what to do in this situation.

“For all I know, you could be lying.”

You gulp.

“But hey, you could also be telling the truth. We don’t know until we check out the scene and hear his side. He doesn’t remember crap—not even his own name. For now, we’ll continue the investigation.”

You sigh in relief, but that still doesn’t deter the guilt from you. The man is a victim of your outlash, and it’s natural for you to want to make up for what you’ve done, even if it’s minor.

“Uhm...how is he…? The guy, I mean.”

“Other than the total amnesia, he’s in a healthy state. It’s strange, though. Other than a large coat, he was wearing a thin layer of clothes, but his body temperature wasn’t affected by the cold. We don’t have young people living here either, so it’s a mystery where he came from.”

He stands up from the chair, walking to the door.

“Well, it’s nice meeting you, Miss (Y/N). If you remember anything, then don’t be afraid to come to me. My name is Sheriff Tusk, and I’ll be in the police station often.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sheriff Tusk walks out, leaving you alone. You fall back, resting your head on the pillow as you exhale. So much has happened in a short amount of time that it’s difficult to believe that all this actually happened. Even if you got away with being put to jail, you feel immensely guilty for hurting him.

———

The next day, you’ve been discharged from the hospital, suffering only from lack of nutrients and a hangover. Kim is in the room with you, helping you pack your things. Neither of you say much, focusing on putting your belongings away. You keep thinking about the man next-door, wondering how he’s doing. You keep stealing glances at Kim, wanting to ask her if you two can visit him but never gathering enough courage to actually ask her.

“Are you ready?” Kim asks as she puts the last folded shirt into your luggage.

“Hm? Oh, yea.”

You take the luggage from her and head to the door. Kim looks at her phone, once again, seeing that her phone has low reception. You pass by the man’s room, stopping in front of it and nearly causing Kim to bump into you.

“Whoa, what’s going on?”

Without a response, your eyes lay heavily on the door, struggling with the debate of whether or not you should enter.

“...(Y/N)...?”

Eventually, you make the final decision, approaching it and your hand grasping the doorknob. You pull the door open, making Kim confused, but not stopping you from continuing.

Inside the room, your peer at the bed, seeing the man sitting upward with a movable table that has a tray of food on top. He holds a cup of pudding in his hand, eating the chocolate-flavored dessert faster than the sound of light. He eats as though he hasn’t eaten in days, the pudding smearing on the corners of his lips.

It takes a moment for him to sense your presence, jolting and freezing when he sees you. You blink profusely, looking around the room nervously. You wanted to see him again, but you didn’t think about what, or if, you wanted to say something.

The man holds the end of his blanket and pulls it up.

You scratch the back of your neck, looking only at the corner of the room. “Hi, uh...I don’t think I’ve ever formally introduced myself. My name is (Y/N).”

You move closer and extend your hand out, but it makes the man flinch. Seeing that he doesn’t want to accept your hand, you pull it back.

“I don’t know if the doctor told you but...I’m the one who threw a rock at you, which is why you have that injury. I came in to say that I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond to you. Rather, he stares as if he’s fearful for his life, his pupils shaking from seeing you. You take one more step, wanting to get to know him, but it makes him flinch.

“I hope you—”

“S-stay away from me…” He whimpers.

His voice is deeper than any man’s voice, and yet his tone is like a scared child. Even the way he pronounced each syllable is with a lisp and not proper, as if he’s slurring. Despite his masculine outlook with his broad shoulders, tall height, and sharp eyes, underneath that shell, he’s fearful and small.

On the right side of you is the bathroom, the door open. You face the mirror, looking at your reflection. You see yourself as an ordinary person, but this man probably sees you as something, not someone, else in his reflection.

Kim puts her hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. “Miss (Y/N), I think it’s better to leave him alone.”

You know it’s better to do that, but there’s an urge within you, pushing you to stay. There’s an internal battle between you and yourself, the desire to stay and talk to him but leaving him alone to rest. Ultimately, you choose Kim’s suggestion.

You take a few steps back, your courage slowly being broken down with each step. “S-sorry…”

Breaking from a blanked trance, you abruptly pace out of the room and to the lobby. Kim is left confused, her head turning back and forth between you and the man.

“Sorry about bursting into your room. I pray for a healthy recovery.” Kim runs off to find you.

———

You stand just outside the small and aging medical building, Kim eventually catching up to you.

“Hey! What was up with that?”

No response.

“Miss (Y/N)...? Hello?”

“I...I don’t know.”

You couldn’t quite understand it either, unsure of what it was that made it okay to visit him. Despite his amnesia, it seems like he’s aware that you’re the one who injured him. With your behavior worrying her, Kim puts her hands on your shoulders, shaking you slightly.

“Do you know that guy?”

“No...no, not really.”

This is the first time you’ve met him, but there’s something about that man that you can’t put your finger on it. Perhaps it’s the guilt talking to your rationale or the urge to talk to somebody who’s close to your age. You just can’t let go of this.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry about it. The sheriff let you off, so you don’t have to take care of him.”

What Kim says floats over your head. You’re not doing this to appear like a law-abiding citizen. There’s this unconscious instinct that’s pulling you to him. It sounds unrealistic and dramatic, but there’s no other way you can describe this feeling. You turn around, staring at the medical building.

———

“What do you mean I can’t visit?”

In the main lobby, the doctor is sitting behind his desk, reading the newspaper. He lowers his glasses to give you a hollow glare. It’s the next day, and you decided to visit the man a second time but your visitation has been turned down by the doctor.

“Visiting without the patient’s permission, especially consistently, is harassment. I’ve been notified of what happened yesterday, so to protect each patient’s safety, I advise that you leave him alone.”

“But I’m not doing anything bad. I just want to talk to him.”

“I know you don’t have malicious intentions, but he’s still recovering from the head injury. Plus, the police are investigating, so it’s better if you leave him alone to avoid trouble.”

“I know, but…” You trail off.

“And you should be resting as well. You’re slightly anemic and are lacking some sugar in you. I’d say run to the store and buy some ice cream.”

Despite that, you stand still. Eating for your physical health’s sake isn’t your priority, but to see the man again. The desire to see him is just as haunting as seeing delusions of your little sister.

He raises an eyebrow, folding his newspaper up and leaning over his desk. “Why are you so persistent in talking to him? From as far as I can tell, you two don’t know each other.”

He’s asking a question that you don’t know the answer to. He waits for a response, but nothing. You seem hesitant, figuring out why it’s your first instinct to see him. You just have to, but if you tell him that, then he’ll most likely kick you out anyway for an absurd reason.

Seeing as you won’t say anything, he leans back, returning to his newspaper. “Well then, I’m sorry but without a proper reason, I can’t let you see him.”

“But…!”

He sighs, losing his patience with you. “I will call Sheriff Tusk if you don’t leave us alone.”

With the threat of police involvement, it pulls you back. You turn to the door, your shoulders raised up.

“Damn city people, thinking they can do whatever they want.” The doctor whispers.

You stop in your tracks. Normally, you don’t let insults like these get to you, but his tone made it seem like you’re scum. You’re not being stubborn because you think you’re superior to the rest of them, but he paints it that way.

With your eyes filled with red, you spin around, marching right back at the doctor. He notices right away, lowering the newspaper and preparing for an attack from you. You clench your fist, getting ready to let him know what’s been in your mind and conveying that through a punch.

But you purposely look away from him, looking at the corner of the room, your inner voice telling you to stop. When you get to his desk, you nearly slam your hand on it before the last nanosecond, pulling the force back and your fists making a soft landing.

You stare straight into the doctor’s shaking eyes. You exhale heavily, cooling down your temper. “Sorry. I just wanted to say that mold is growing in the corners. You should give it a look.”

He raises an eyebrow, questioning your mental state. Absolutely nothing made sense, not even to you. You turn around and pacing out of the building. He fixes his glasses, having no clue what just happened. He looks at the corner, seeing the black mold growing.

———

Outside of the medical building, you crouch into a fetal position, hiding your face in your knees. You don’t know what’s going on with you. You don’t have full control of your body, and it’s scaring you. One second, you’re oddly pulled toward that strange man, the next second, you let your anger take the driver's seat. You’re beginning to think that you belong in an insane asylum.

“Oh my, what in the devil’s name are you doing?” Margaret jogs to you.

She crouches over, rubbing your back. She takes your arm and helps you stand up. You’re confused, not knowing who’s touching you or where you’re at. You come back to your senses when you see Margaret’s face.

“Don’t be sitting in the snow like that, you crazy woman! Look at you, dressed like a whore out here in the cold and only wearing a thin layer of clothes!”

Calling you a ‘whore’ was a bit uncalled for, but you don’t get angry.

“Jesus Christ, that damn doc discharged you early. That scum of a doc probably let you go early because he’s too lazy to take care of you. C’mon girly, come to my place.”

She holds onto you, letting you lean on her to her place.

———

In her kitchen, Margaret sets a tray of cookies from a tin box in front of you with a warm cup of coffee. You sit with your knees close to your chest, curled up in a ball. You pick up a cookie, but the edges start crumbling. After a bite, it practically falls apart in your mouth and makes your throat dry. You take a sip of the coffee, clearly tasting the stale flavor of the grounded beans and sink water combined. You try not to make a bitter look, but you can’t help it.

“That boy has been stirring shit up even though he’s the one being holed up in that den. The whole town has been talking about him.”

She takes a seat next to you, putting sugar in her coffee and mixing it with a spoon. She takes a sip, smacking her lips after tasting her awful coffee calmly as if this taste is normal to her.

“But seeing a young man is definitely a breath of fresh air. Like with you and your Kimmy friend, it’s rare to see youngins here. Maybe he was with those contractors from the other day and got separated from them.”

It’s the most sensible explanation, but it doesn’t explain why he was alone in the forest. If he was a part of those businessmen, then he would’ve long since gone into the town and asked for help.

“What were you doing there, on your knees like you were prayin’?”

Once again, there’s that hesitation. She looks at you, ready for you to spill your heart out, but two decades of being a closed book, it feels way too strange to share. Just from your silence alone, she can tell that you’re not comfortable yet.

“You know that by clamming it into your brain ain’t gonna make it better. Even if you don’t tell me, I know exactly why you’re freaking out like your ass’s on fire.”

It’s a weird simile, but you take it.

“I know your struggle, but it ain’t like I understand it though. That’s why you gotta explain it.”

You hold the cup with your two hands, looking down at your reflection in the coffee.

“Don’t think that just because you’re all grown up now that I don’t remember what happened to you and Annie. I’ve lived here for thirty years, and every single kid who went missing here has been imprinted in my head. If there’s someone you want to talk to, don’t be afraid to talk. Or…” Margaret wipes imaginary dust off your shoulders, raising her eyebrows and smiling widely like a cartoon character. “I’m wrong and you crushin’ on that boy.”

“What the…? No.”

“Lady, don’t hide it. I saw how much you were beggin’ to see that young lad. I know young love when I see it.”

“It’s not even remotely close,” You don’t know how this turned romantic suddenly. “It’s normal for someone with decent morals to make sure that the person they harmed is okay.”

“Whatever you say, girly.”

It was so long ago, but now you remember. That time when you first came here, Margaret also told your parents to scram. Being no taller than your mother’s waist, she looked like a giant—a real-life monster scaring you to death. You can’t recall the exact words, but she must’ve been just as hostile as she was with you and Kim on the first day. But with the lens of an adult, now you know that those shouts were for concerns. She must’ve seen you and Annie and knew what ill fate was about to occur.

You look out the window and at the clinic. That man is still in his room, doing God knows what. “Margaret, don’t get the wrong impression, but how much are your flowers and candy?”

———

One of the good things about this clinic is that it’s open 24/7, but the doctor sleeps at his desk. You open the door carefully, making sure that you don’t make a noise. You keep your eye on the doctor, nervous that he’ll wake up. In your hands is a bouquet of flowers and on the other is a grocery bag. You move your hands as little as possible, holding two of the loudest objects in your arms. Luckily, you manage to pass by without waking him up, your feet lightly making its way up the stairs and to the man’s room.

As you sneak through the halls, you’re beginning to think of yourself as a creepy person. You really went through the lengths to see a man who you’ve harmed once and spoken to once. You’ve always been questioning your mental stability, but this is pushing it. A part of you wants you to run out, but you’ve already put yourself deep into this mess to leave.

You make it to his bedroom, a single light coming from behind the curtains. You knock on the door, and although you don’t get a response, you can hear the sheets fluttering. You put your hand on the doorknob, but then you pull back, the reality of the situation hitting you hard. Sighing heavily, you think it’s best to leave. At this rate, what you’re doing can get you into massive trouble.

Just as you turn around, you hear a loud bang in the man’s room, followed by the ringing echoes of metal objects dropping. You scrunch your shoulders up, nearly screaming at the sudden loudness. This prompts you to open the door and check what happened.

In the room, you look around, but only darkness wraps around you, taking seconds for your eyes to adjust to it. On the ground is the man, squirming around, entangled in the blanket. You’re unsure of what to do, placing the grocery bag and bouquet on the bed. You attempt to pull the sheets off of him, but his kicking and punching creates a struggle for both of you.

“Hey, you don’t need to move so much…!”

After a while, you’re able to pull it off. When he sees you, he freezes, and you as well. You move back, on your knees, but having no idea how to explain why you’re here, you scratch the back of your neck.

“So uhm...what were you doing on the floor?”

Why did you even ask that, you idiot?! You want to slap yourself, but you remain cool. The man stares at you, having no idea how to answer you. If anything, he seems more frightened than shocked to see you. You try to think of anything to reassure him that you’re not a threat.

You grab the bouquet from the bed and show it to him. “This is for you.”

He stares at it curiously, like he doesn’t know what it is. He reaches over to grab it, but he pulls his hand back.

“Wh...where did you get this?”

“...I got it from the store…?”

Since it’s winter, most of the flowers have been shipped from other areas, but Margaret’s shop didn’t have that many, so the bouquet is rather small. He eyes it in awe as if he’s never seen these before. He pulls a rose out, inspecting every angle. He bends the stem, then picks a petal off. He does it again, and again, and again until his lap is surrounded with red petals. What’s left of the rose is the crooked stem, and the thorns.

He sweeps the crimson petals into a pile, finding the smoothness of it satisfying, pinching them in between his thumb and index finger. He raises his head, giving you round, innocent eyes, pointing at himself. “Are these for me?”

“Y-yea…”

You almost forgot about the second half of the gift. You grab the grocery bag, spilling the content all over the floor. It’s different kinds of candy—chocolate bars, jawbreakers, and gummy worms.

“When I came here last time, you were eating that pudding to death, so I thought you’d like to have more sweets.” You don’t even know if he’s supposed to be consuming this much sugar, but you thought that you just had to buy him these.

You give him a watermelon-flavored hard candy. He tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. That’s when he pops the candy into his mouth, not bothering to remove the wrapper.

“Ah! What are you doing?! Spit it out!” You sit up, pulling yourself closer to him.

Startled by your raised voice, he flinches at first, raising his arms up like you were about to hit him. He spits out the candy immediately, that childish curiosity disappearing. You move back, wondering if your loud tone scared him.

“You...you can’t eat it like that. You have to take off the wrapper first.”

You wait for him to pick up the wet candy, but he doesn’t. Not wanting to pick up the saliva-covered candy, you pick up a different one, showing it to him.

“Copy me.”

He picks up the one he spat out, pinching the wrinkled edges just like you. You pull it outward, the wrapper spinning and loosening. Once the twists come off, you unpeel the plastic, showing him a hardened sphere. You put in your mouth, letting the sweetness soak in your mouth.

“Like that.”

He does what you do, the candy twirling until it’s untwisted. He takes it out, eating it, and that’s when his eyes widen, astonished by how sweet it is.

“It’s sweeter than pudding!” He exclaims.

His enthusiasm for how sweet candy is is absolutely weird...yet endearing. For a man who’s around your age to behave like he’s experiencing sugar for the first time is abnormal, but it makes you feel...warm inside.

He tries to bite the candy, but he wasn’t expecting it to be this difficult and ends up hurting his jaw. “Ow…but it’s not soft like pudding.”

You hold back the urge to laugh. He definitely has been living under a rock if he didn’t know that he can’t bite it down so easily. That’s probably why the doctor gave him soft foods.

He reaches for another one, but you stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I want to eat another one.”

“I-I know it’s for you but...you should wait to have more in the morning. It’s not good for your teeth.”

He’s saddened, but he obeys. He folds his hand, but his eyes won’t leave the candy that you dropped everywhere. Unable to say no to his puppy eyes, you give him candy that’s easier to chew. Not letting him unwrap it himself, you open it for him.

“This is taffy. It’s strawberry flavor. I think you might like it.”

You give it to him, and lights sparkle behind his eyes. He eats it, savoring the taste. Seeing his smile makes you feel fuzzy, like seeing how genuinely happy he is for something as simple as getting candy makes you want to smile too.

“Uhm...I don’t know if I ever got your name,” but then you recall that he doesn’t remember his name. “Actually, wait...never mind.”

“...Taehyung.”

Taehyung? It sounds out of place for a town like Little Bare. He definitely isn’t from here, which only brings more mystery as to who he actually is. Other than that, it’s a unique name foreign to you.

“I’m...sorry for hitting you on the head. I wasn’t thinking straight and did something really stupid…”

“Yea, it really hurt,” he points out blatantly. “Just promise me that you won’t do it again. Not just to me, but to anybody else.”

It felt out of sorts that somebody as immature as Taehyung would give you a lecture, but you nod. “Promise.”

“Okay.” And just like that, he continues eating the taffy.

He scoots closer to you, losing the tensity in his muscles. Your determination to see him has finally died down, and now the timidness is entering your body. It’s impossible to distract yourself from him, watching him eat with absolute happiness, glad that you ignored the urge to run away and stayed.

You stare at the candies on the ground, the sensation of nostalgia overcoming you. You ate these when you were a child, and you ate these a lot with Annie, especially the watermelon-flavored candy. Since her disappearance, it was difficult for you to consume these again. But times have changed, and you bought these impulsively for Taehyung.

You bite the candy that’s in your mouth, breaking it into pieces to swallow, then putting the watermelon one in. Eating it was like going back in time, being that six-year-old, naive girl. You even ate this when you were here, fighting with Annie and not sharing one until your mother yelled at you to share. It’s such a trivial memory, but one that you remember vividly.

But this is the reason why you avoided anything relating to this town. It brings back memories that you tried so hard to bury deep in your head. You don’t want to be re-attached to emotions that you cut the strings to. You flutter your eyelashes, raising your head at the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. You can hear Annie’s laughter, holding her small, chubby hands as you two run through the snow. You exhale slowly, but it’s shaky, and your chest feels heavy.

“(Y/N)...are you okay?” Your trance is broken when you hear Taehyung’s voice.

You return to your senses, surprised that he remembers your name. “N-no...I’m just...I just haven’t...it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, observing you fighting back the tears as you rub your eyes. With your eyes closed, he extends his hand out, reaching for your head, but when you open them back up, he pulls it back immediately.

———

“Oh no, Tae, what happened this time??”

“They were pushing me around again. They were throwing snowballs and telling me to go away. They kept telling me that they don’t play with immigrants. What does that mean?”

“...Ignore them. Tell me where they hit you.”

“My head...they kept aiming there.”

“A snowball is not supposed to hurt. Oh dear God...you’re bleeding again. Don’t tell me, did they put rocks in the snowballs again??”

“I don’t know...but it really hurts.”

“My poor child…”

“...Mom…”

“Yes?”

“...Am I an alien?”

“What? No! You’re Kim Taehyung, the strongest boy.”

“But...I’m skinnier than the rest of the kids. Plus...they keep saying that I have small eyes. I can never beat them at racing.”

“Taehyung. Do you know what’s the strongest forest animal?”

“What?”

“A bear. They’re huge and can beat up anything that stands in their way. But you know what else makes a bear strong? Not only physical strength, but their will power to stay alive too. You may be a cub right now, but when you grow up, you’re going to be the strongest bear in the entire world! You’re going to be so strong that you won’t need to hibernate like the rest of the grizzlies. That’s why, no matter what, Taehyung, you’ll always be my baby bear. When you’re in trouble, call for me and I’ll be there. I promise I won’t leave you. Now, let’s get you treated at the clicnic.”

———

“Are you insane??” Kim’s booming voice echoes across the inn. Kim’s hands are on her hips, like a mother scolding her child.

You’re by the edge of the bed, startled by her voice.

“Did you really think that the doctor wouldn’t see the things you left for that guy? The doctor told me everything this morning. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking into his room late at night??”

You sigh, unbuttoning your coat. “His name is Taehyung.”

“His name doesn’t matter. What matters is that you broke into his room. It’s already enough that you nearly got in trouble for injuring him, but this? This is pushing it!” She wants to say more, but letting her anger out on you won’t do anything to ease it.

The way she lectures you reminds you of Suniya, and it might be because Kim is beginning to understand what she meant when she said that you’re disconnected. Logic does not correlate with you and you do things erratically.

“But I didn’t hurt him this time. We had a little chat, and I gave him a few things.”

“But did it really have to be during the middle of the night?”

It didn’t, but there was no other way if the doctor was going to keep you away from him.

“Is it because you felt bad?”

“...I guess? He’s a really nice guy. You should talk to him. Everything he says is interesting.”

You don’t need her to tell you that what you did was wrong, but perhaps she’s doing it because of how nonchalant you are.

“Miss (Y/N)...you can’t forget about why we’re here. This isn’t a vacation, we’re working, and we both haven’t even jotted down a single word. Fooling around with a stranger—”

“Taehyung.”

“...Taehyung...Talking to him is going to waste more time. He’s not paying for our meals.”

You fold your hands on your lap, glaring at it. She can tell you feel a little guilty, so she tries figuring out how to talk to you without you becoming withdrawn. She takes a seat next to you, but makes a clear gap between you and her.

“Remember why we’re here. There’s a story that we have to tell, right? To warn people that this place isn’t meant to be lived in.”

You pick on your fingernails, fully aware of your purpose for being here...but seeing Taehyung was almost like a calling...That night, talking and eating candy on the floor, it felt like an eternity since you last spoke to someone that didn’t have anything to do with work. Even though you’ve never met him before, it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Yea...yea, yea. I know.”

“If you know, then let's start our work today. We’ve gotten comfortable with this place, so let’s start by interviewing the townspeople.”

“Okay.”

———

Laying on his back is Taehyung, raising his arms up and staring at the candy wrapper. He covers the ceiling light with the wrapper, and he smiles while thinking of you.

“Taehyung, focus.” The doctor snaps his fingers.

Taehyung flinches and crunches the wrapper in his hand. Sitting on a stool next to the bed is the doctor with a clipboard.

“Answer my questions. Have you recollected any memories since your stay here?”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Nothing?”

He nods.

“So is it really your name that you only remember?”

He nods again.

“And you have no idea where you’re from? Not a clue?”

He shrugs his shoulders. His lack of vocal response irritates the doctor slightly, but forcing Taehyung to answer won’t solve anything either.

“Well then, your health is improving exponentially, so you’ll be discharged soon. If you still can’t remember who you are, then we have to figure out where you can stay.”

The doctor gets up and leaves the room. Waiting in the hallway is Sheriff Tusk, his arms crossed. They look at each other, disappointed looks on their faces.

“Anything?” Tusk asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “I can’t get anything out of him. He’s got the mentally of a child stuck in a man’s body. Despite that, he’s recovering at a rapid pace, faster than an average person. His internal injuries are practically gone and all he has left is for his scar to go away. But...something did happen last night.”

“What?”

“That city chick, (Y/N), snuck in here.”

Sheriff Tusk throws his head back. “What in the hell…? For what?”

“To drop off some gifts for him.”

“...You don’t think she’s tryna coerce him? She is the reason why he’s here.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I have no clue. I’m not sure if you remember, but she’s the one with the missing sister.”

“Oh, that’s the girl? Why the hell is she back here for?”

“From what Margaret said, she and her friend are here to write a book.”

Sheriff Tusk sighs, running his hand through his beard. “Fucking shit...It’s already enough that those goddamn contractors keep coming back…”

“Well, technically the girls aren’t causing harm, so far. I can have Margaret keep an eye on them.”

“Alright...I’ll continue with the investigation. For now, make sure that that young man doesn’t leave. Once I get things together, I have a few questions for him too.”

The doctor nods and Tusk walks off. Once the sheriff walks out of the building, he turns around and returns to Taehyung’s room. But when he opens the door, he nearly has a heart attack from Taehyung, who stands inches away from the door.

“Jesus Christ…! What are you doing out of bed?!”

“I heard you say (Y/N). Is she here?”

He thought that he and the sheriff were speaking quietly, so he wasn’t expecting Taehyung to eavesdrop, but he forgot that the walls are thin. He’s worried that he might’ve heard what they said, but he simply stares at the doctor with curious, naive eyes.

“No, she isn’t.”

“Do you know when she’s coming back?”

“No idea. Just go to bed.”

The demand from the doctor saddens Taehyung. He drops his head, slugging his feet across the room and back to his bed. Just like what Tusk said, the doctor is concerned that you might’ve influenced him to ruin the investigation between you and him, but it seems like he really likes you.

He puts his hands in his pocket. “Taehyung, be truthful with me. Did (Y/N) say anything to you?”

Taehyung rummages through his pockets and shows the doctor a handful of plucked petals and candy wrappers. “She showed me how to eat candy and gave me flowers. When you eat it, you have to take off this cover-thingy…” He pinches the wrapper.

“Mm-hm, okay. Anything else?”

“...Hm...oh, she also seemed kind of sad.”

“She what?”

He tries copying what you did last night, raising his head up and staring at the ceiling. “She wasn’t crying like a baby, but her eyes got watery.”

It’s no surprise. When the doctor first saw you, you seemed like a broken person upon first glance. But he didn’t want to say anything, believing it might’ve been too sensitive of him.

“...I think she hates me.”

“Hm? What makes you think that?”

“You said that she told you that she threw a rock at me and was angry, then she looked sad when she was with me. I think I hurt her before I forgot my memories.” He has a sullen look on his face.

Pitiful is what the doctor would describe Taehyung. His way of thinking is too pure...too black and white. There’s no complexity in him, so if the doctor were to discharge him, he would have no chance of surviving out there.

He leans over and pats Taehyung on the back. “She said that it was an accident and is sorry. Forget about it.”

“...But I can’t...How do you make someone forgive you?”

“You can’t make someone forgive you. Even if you’re the one who made the mistake, it’s up to the other person if they can fully accept what you’ve done,” he pokes Taehyung’s forehead. “Sometimes you think that seeking forgiveness comes from others, but it’s also forgiving yourself with what you’ve done.”

It’s too confusing for Taehyung to grasp what he means.

“But that’s saying if you really did something awful to her. Do you know if you actually hurt her?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I...don’t know. I think I did, but I can’t remember. I just don’t want to see her sad.”

The doctor can see the clear self-frustration in Taehyung. He’s convinced that he wronged you, but the real challenge comes from how he did it. But seeing him battle with himself, it leaves the doctor with a lingering thought… “I know you told her not to see me...but is it okay if I see her again? I want to say sorry to her.”

The doctor hums, thinking about that request. “I can’t make promises, but we’ll see.”

“Okay, thank you!”

———

“Don’t bother seeing him again.”

“What?!”

Later that day, the doctor came to visit you and Kim at your inn to drop the request. “You trespassed into private property and caused mental harm to my patient. And don’t you think it’s smarter to leave him alone, especially when you’re being suspected of physically harming him?”

“…I know what this is about.” You clench your fists.

“Miss (Y/N), please don’t…”

“You’re just doing this to spite us! You hate people from the city, so you’re treating us like shit!”

“Miss (Y/N)!”

“That’s what you think. But you shouldn’t be talking to someone who took the time to nurse you back to health.”

“Don’t use that excuse to justify your shitty behavior!!”

With your face turning red, Kim gets up and pulls you back from the doctor. You jerk your hands off.

“I don’t need an excuse when we have people here taking advantage of my town and the people living here for money. If you want to make money somewhere else, then do that instead, not my home.” He walks away.

“WAIT! COME BACK HERE!!” You shout.

“Miss (Y/N), stop it!!” Kim aggressively pulls you back, shutting the door to prevent you from running out. “What the fuck is going on with you?!”

“Don’t you see it?? He’s just doing that because he fucking hates us! I’m not doing shit to Taehyung!!”

“But he’s a doctor, you should listen to him!”

“Degree or no degree, you don’t need a Ph.D to be a complete asshole.”

“I can tell! Talk about yourself!” She blurts out suddenly.

However, she covers her mouth, regretting immediately with what she said. Her words pierce your heart, but in all honesty, you needed that slap in the face. You weren’t looking at yourself to realize how much trouble you were causing for others.

“Miss (Y/N), I’m so sorry I…”

“No...it’s okay. I needed that.”

“...But please...stop lying that you’re fine. You make it very obvious that something's bothering you.”

You sigh. “...I hate feeling guilty. It’s like...it’s all I could think of, and I hate it. That’s probably why I really want to see him. I can’t let this go.”

That heaviness in your chest caused by guilt is unfathomably painful—so heavy that it’s suffocating. You’re aware of your obsessive nature, and you’d like to control it, but it’s been so deeply rooted into your blood that even if you try to get rid of it, it’s almost impossible. That’s why it’s easier to pretend that the problem never existed rather than solve it.

“I’m sorry, Kim, for dragging you into this.”

Unlike the other conversations that they had before, it truly feels like you’re fully present. Your mind isn’t floating somewhere else, but here.

“It’s okay...people are bound to have their slip-ups. Just...listen to the doctor. I don’t want us to be kicked out.”

You bite on your thumb, not exactly agreeing to Kim, but just as she said, you don’t want to be forced out of town either.

———

Late at night, Taehyung is laying in bed, staring out the window as he counts the number of stars, even though he can count as far as ten. After hitting ten, he restarts and would end up counting the same stars repeatedly.

He hears a knock at the door, then the door creaking open.

“Hello…? Taehyung, are you here?”

Your voice brings a smile to his face, straightening his back. “I’m here!”

“Shh…” You peer over the corner of the wall. “The doctor is asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Did the doctor tell you to visit me again?”

“Ah ha ha...yea.” You avert your eyes.

He hears the rustling of the grocery bag in your hands. Curious, he looks down. “What’s in there?”

He bounces up and down excitedly. You take out the components in the bag, showing him some fruits and drinks. He’s in awe at the different foods you display on the bed, making his mouth water.

“Peaches!”

He picks up the pink fuzzball, almost taking a bite out of it before you take it away from him. “Wait!”

He slumps his shoulders, pouting.

“I didn’t get the chance to clean it, then I’ll cut it for you.”

You rush to the bathroom, rinsing the fruit before returning. In the bag, you take out a small pocket knife, cutting the skin and slicing it into pieces. He stares at it with wide eyes in awe, impressed by your cutting skills, even though it’s nowhere near astonishing.

You give him a piece, and he takes it, shoving it into his mouth and overwhelmed by the sweetness. “This is better than candy.”

“It’s more refreshing, isn’t it? I thought that since last time I brought you some unhealthy snacks, I’d give you healthier options. Well...that’s what I thought...but I couldn’t help but buy something else.”

You wipe your hands down on your jeans, but the stickiness from the fruit juice remains. You take out a can of soda, showing it to him, but leaving him confused. He creases his eyebrows, scratching his chin as if he’s trying to interpret what he’s looking at.

“...This is cola. You’ve had them before, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen it.”

You open the can, the click of the carbonated fizz leaks out from inside. He’s so impressed by it, moving closer to the drink and smell the faint flavor of the cola.

You put it into his hand, and he hesitantly takes a sip. However, he gives a distasteful look, his face cringing from the strong fizziness of the drink. The face he makes makes it impossible for you not to laugh.

“It’s nasty…”

“I’m sure that if you keep drinking it, then you’ll love it for sure.”

He shakes his head, eating more peaches to get rid of the taste. Throughout the night, you show him the many different fruits, and he takes a bite with each one of them. No matter what it is, it will always astonish him, so keen to learn more.

Before you know it, hours have gone by, but it feels as though it’s only been minutes.

“How’s your head?” You ask.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, but the doctor is always asking me if I remember anything,” he makes a raspberry noise with his lips, falling onto the pillow. “That’s all we talk about.”

“Well...do you remember anything?”

He looks around suspiciously as if he’s making sure that there’s nobody else in the room. He leans over as if he’s going to whisper a deep, dark secret. “Don’t tell anybody, but I do remember a few things.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I remember them in frames, like still pictures. It’s foggy, but there are parts that came back to me.”

“What do you remember?” You lean closer.

“There’s a lot of snow, and I was sitting on the ground. It was really...really cold. Also, everyone looked taller and angry.”

Although it’s great that he has some memories come back to him, they’re vague. His memory is no different than how some of the townspeople treat you.

“Anything else?”

“...Oh, yea. There’s also a large cave in the forest too. I went there a lot.”

The mention of a save makes you shudder, and that’s when a wave of memories return for you. You know exactly which cave he’s talking about...the one you and Annie went to. You hug yourself, trying to forget about it.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You blink profusely, nodding your head. “Y-yea...I’m fine. Taehyung, I have to ask you something.”

“Hm?”

“Did you...by any chance, ever run into a bear? Or a child? At the cave?”

He stares at the ceiling, shaking his head. “No.”

“...Do you even know about the Winter Bear story?”

He shakes his head again.

“...It’s...about a grizzly bear who’s the only bear in the entire world that doesn’t sleep during winter. Because of that, he gets lonely, so he kidnaps kids.”

Your knee begins shaking violently, motioning up and down at rapid speed. Taehyung’s eyes are fixated on your anxious knee.

“He...took my little sister a long time ago, and...it’s my fault. He...paid attention to me, and I liked it. And truth be told, I loathed my sister as much as I loved her.”

His eyebrows crease, not quite knowing what ‘loathed’ means.

“My parents, especially my mom, loved her to death. I still don’t know why. It might be because she was the baby of the family or if it’s ‘cause she resembles my mom a lot, but she was always favored. And imagine the horror that unfolded when they heard that their favorite child went missing and their least favorite child is to be blamed for.” You laugh at yourself.

You will never forget the look of terror on your mother’s face when you returned with your clothes torn and freezing. It wasn’t because of the state that you were in, but the fact that you returned without Annie. She immediately went around town, asking for help, and everybody searched to no avail. Your mother never directly stated that it was your fault, but the way she looked at you like she was going to throw up.

You so desperately wanted to apologize to her, but each time you tried it, she would change the subject. If you were insistent in talking about it, she would become violent. Items being thrown to the floor, her blood-curdling screams, those wide, gaping eyes glaring down at you like you’re vermin. It made you afraid of your own mother. That’s why you tried to bury your memories, and when you did, you either emotionally detached yourself or changed your thoughts to something else, just like how your mother did.

But every time you did think about your sister, you felt that immense guilt gulping you up. You would become manic—wanting to do anything possible to seek forgiveness. You would return to that fragile, little girl who wanted her mother’s love.

Taehyung searches through his pockets, giving you one of the candies that you gave to him. Some of the wrappers fall out of his pocket as well, but he ignores them. You raise an eyebrow, but he nudges for you to take it. It’s the watermelon flavor candy.

“The candies are so sweet there’s no room for bitterness. That’s what I learned after eating so much of it.”

You take it from his hand, unwrapping it and putting it in your mouth. And just like what he said, your tongue is overflowing with the sweet, sweet watermelon. When you look up at Taehyung’s face, making proper eye contact with him for the first time, you notice something odd. His expression is blank, but tears are falling.

You let out a single laughter. “Why are you the one crying?”

He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he sympathizes, maybe even empathizes, with you. It always felt like when you said something, you got attacked in return. Whether it be Suniya nagging at you, Kim criticizing your rash behavior, those faceless comments on your article bashing you, or even your mother neglecting you when you tried mending the relationship, it felt like everything you did was a mistake. No one wanted to listen to you, and it made you scared to be honest.

He brushes your bangs away to get a better look at your face. Even though you barely know him, it feels like he’s been your longtime friend. Without thinking, you drop yourself onto him, hiding your face in his chest. You hold him tightly, silently crying on his shirt. He’s confused, as stiff as a rock. He slowly sets his hands on your back like an amateur hugger. But you’re no different either since you’re just as awkward as he is.

“I’m...sorry.” He apologizes.

You laugh through the sobs. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault.”

He doesn’t reply.

You forgot how sticky your hands are—Taehyung’s lint gets stuck on the palm of your hands. You rarely talk about yourself, but with Taehyung, it feels oddly comfortable around him. Just the look of his eyes alone, you knew that he wasn’t going to judge you. You didn’t need to get defensive because you felt safe.

“Thanks for listening to me.”

———

You peek through the crack of the door, waving at him one more time before leaving. He waves back, mouthing the words, ‘please come back soon’. You nod, gently closing the door. You sigh, slightly embarrassed for breaking down earlier. It’s not every day that you have a heart-to-heart conversation with someone, so it was new. But you can’t hide that little smirk on your face, like some of that weight on yours has been alleviated.

“Seems like no matter how many times I tell you, you think you’re superior to me.”

Startled, you nearly scream when you cover your mouth. You spin around and meet eyes with the doctor who seems unsurprised that you’re here.

“Uhm...I can explain.”

“No need. I give up on trying to convince you.”

“...Really?”

“I don’t know what you want from that kid, but it doesn’t seem like it’s bad. Just don’t pick on him.”

“I’m not.”

“Even if I did tell you to stop, you’ll just continue breaking in late at night.” He walks off.

That felt...a bit too easy. You thought that he was going to put up more of a fight, but it might be because of old age or because of your stubbornness, he was quick to throw in the towel. However, you aren’t complaining about this and if anything, plays in your favor.

———

For the next few days, you have been visiting Taehyung. You two wouldn’t do much but talk, and these conversations would go on for hours. For once, it didn’t feel like your life was single-colored, and his liveliness was contagious. You found yourself laughing and smiling a lot more than usual. But it isn’t as if you two are doing anything spectacular, just talking.

There are traits of him that you’ve noticed. He has these moments where he’s easy to read, like a child, but there are other times when he’ll blank out and you have no idea what’s in his mind. He’s always curious about the world and whenever there’s something that he doesn’t know, he would ask you. He doesn’t ask the doctor and always goes to you first.

“Taehyung?” You peek through the doors.

No reply. Instead, you hear the shower going off in the bathroom, so he must be taking a shower. You thought about waiting in the lobby, not wanting to scare him when he’s out of the shower, but you also think it’s better to stay. Even though you and the doctor came to terms, it’s still uncomfortable being in the same room as him since he hasn’t let go of his distaste for city people yet. Despite treating you horribly, the doctor isn’t harsh with Taehyung. There are times when he loses patience with him, but never gets angry.

And speaking of Taehyung, you’re startled when you hear a thud in the bathroom. Alerted, you rush to the room, twisting the doorknob and seeing him on the ground, completely wet. You get down on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Oh, (Y/N), you’re here.”

“Are you okay?! What were you trying to do?”

“I tried turning on the water faucet, but I couldn’t turn the handle. I think I put too much strength and slipped after it turned on.”

“You should’ve asked the doctor for help,” you brush his hair. “Geez, your bandages are wet.”

“I do ask him, but he always looks like he’s annoyed at me every time I ask. I don’t wanna bother him anymore, so I wanted to try and do it myself.”

You groan. That damn doctor, only thinking for himself. “Don’t force yourself to do things especially since you’re still recovering. You should be resting instead.”

“...I’ve always done things by myself,” Taehyung slumps his shoulders. “Whenever I asked someone, they would always get angry.”

“Says who?”

“...Says everyone.”

‘Everyone’? You don’t know anyone other than you, Sheriff Tusk, and the doctor who visits him. Margaret would ask about him from you every so often, but you aren’t sure if she comes by either. Whatever it is, it’s bothering Taehyung, so much so that he’s so gloomy.

“Hey, you can always rely on me.”

He stares at you with wide eyes, but then he looks away, defeating himself before he gets the chance to smile. “But...you aren’t here all the time.”

“Well...good point,” you contemplate. “It’s not always possible, but just call my name and I’ll come to the rescue.”

It’s unrealistic. Obviously, you’re no superhero who can pop up to save the world with a single cry of help. You don’t want to give him hope and be disappointed when you don’t fulfill it. You feel like a parent—giving shallow promises just to shove his worries away, but at the same time, you’re being genuine.

“It’s a small town. I’m sure I can hear your voice. Besides, you were in trouble and I came in time to save you,” you pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s change your clothes.”

You grab him from under his arm, helping him get up. You walk with him to his bed. Once he sits down, you look through the cabinets for towels,  finding a white hand cloth folded on the third shelf. You go back to him, using the cloth to massage it over his wet hair, but not too aggressive to affect his injury. Whenever you wipe too hard, Taehyung’s face would scrunch up and he would put his hand on your wrist.

“(Y/N), do you have a family?”

“Hm? What’s this all of a sudden?”

“I’m just curious about you.”

“I do. I have a mom and a dad and...that’s it.”

“...Do you live with them?”

You shake your head. “I live alone.”

“Why?”

“It’s because...my parents and I don’t get along. After Annie went missing, my parents got divorced and I lived with my mom for a while. But I couldn’t stand living with her anymore so after I graduated high school, I moved out and lived on my own.”

“What does divorce mean?”

“You don’t know what it means?”

He shakes his head. “I heard people use it, but I never really knew what it meant.”

“It’s when a married couple doesn’t want to be together anymore and decides to separate.”

“Oh…”

“What about you? Do you remember your family?”

“A little bit. I don’t remember my dad, but I do remember some things about my mom. I think my mom left my dad when I was very young, so I lived with her. But we ran away from home and moved to a new place. I don’t know how she looks, but she always took care of me. And she always had bruises, too. But I don’t remember why.”

Your ears perk up when he brings up the notion of bruises. It definitely stands out. It makes you a little worried about what sort of environment Taehyung lived in prior to losing his memories.

“She also dressed differently from you. Actually...everyone from my memories doesn’t dress like you or the doctor or the policeman.” He tries to recollect his memories, but it only frustrates him more.

“Okay, okay. Don’t give yourself a headache. Take your time to remember everything.”

You continue to dry his head until you think it’s done. But just as you were about to leave, Taehyung places his hands on your waist to stop you from leaving.

Your cheeks turn red. “Tae-Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Thank you…(Y/N), for visiting me all the time. Even though I’m a good-for-nothing, you keep me company.”

You scoff. “No one called you a good-for-nothing. And if anyone did, just ignore them.”

Without thinking, you pat him on the head, running your fingers through his damp hair. He peeks one eye out to look at your face, but when you two make eye contact, he quickly hides back into your stomach.

“You won’t leave me? I don’t have to be alone anymore, right?”

There’s no reason for him to question you, and you know full well that that can’t be the case. After all, you’re here for work, not to make friends. However, you can’t bring yourself to break his heart. The way his voice deepened, his tone sounding so...solemn. Like he experienced trauma that he never wants to go through again.

“I promise.”

And with that vow, he raises his head up, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes become smaller from how wide his smile is.

“I really like you, (Y/N), you know that?”

Your heart nearly skips a beat, then your ears turn red. You fan your face, telling yourself not to misread what he said. “Me too. I’m glad we’re friends.”

He raises his head up, a little upset. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What?”

“I mean…never mind.”

———

“Count very slowly to twenty, okay honey?”

A younger version of Taehyung nods his head.

“Close your eyes and cover them with your hands. Don’t peek because if you do, then you’re cheating. People don’t like cheaters.”

He nods again. “Are we playing hide and seek like the kids?”

In the middle of the forest, the woman has Taehyung stand against a dead tree. The woman cups his cheek with her icy hands, brushing his curly bangs back as she looks like she’s trying to fight the urge to cry. Her lips are curled inward, and she opens her mouth to speak. But finding difficulty in letting one word out, she lets out a shaky sigh, averting her eyes from Taehyung.

He can’t keep his eyes off of the purple and green bruises on her frail arms. His mother is so thin that she doesn’t have any fat in her. She doesn't even have muscles—she’s skin and bones. Her eyes look sunken, like her eyes are shrinking. However, Taehyung didn’t think too much about her mother’s malnourishment because his body looks just like hers.

“Y-yes. You know that I love you, right?”

He nods for the third time.

“O...okay...if you love me,  th-then close your eyes and don’t peek. And remember: you’re a strong bear—so strong that you can withstand the winter cold.”

He covers his eyes with his hands, counting from one. His mother waves her hand in front of him. When he doesn’t jolt from her hand, she takes this chance to flee. He keeps counting even after being the only one in the forest.

“Eight...nine...ten...elevephen...twelve...fo...four...four…? Fiveteen...si-six…” He loses count, though he thought it was strange that his mother made him count to twenty even though he can barely count to ten. “...Mom?”

———

“I came from Korea.”

In the room, the sheriff is keeping record as Taehyung continues.

“I think...my mom and I immigrated here a long, long time ago. She said that we had a better chance of living here than there.”

“By ‘long time ago,’ can you give me a specific time frame?”

“...I can’t. It was too long that I don’t know.” 

While he tries to recall his past, he looks out the window and notices you with Kim. Unlike the stoic faces he made, his eyes light up, losing interest on the sheriff and onto you. Tusk glances over to you, clearly sensing the light-hearted vibe coming from Taehyung.

He walks over to the window, raising his eyebrow. “You and that girl have gotten quite close.”

“I like it when she’s here.”

“Even though she’s the reason why you’re here in the first place?”

His smile disappears. The doctor and policeman are always dragging him down with pessimism, so he doesn’t like it when they talk to him.

“She did hurt me, but she’s trying her best to make it up. What she did is wrong, but I forgive her.”

But Sheriff Tusk doesn’t seem convinced. He sighs, closing his notepad. “Well, this is definitely a step forward. It looks like I’ll let (Y/N) off the hook, and I’m confident that you didn’t harm her either that night. If there’s anything else that comes up, then update me whenever you can.”

“Okay.”

———

You glance through Taehyung’s window, only able to see the top of his head. You aren’t sure what he’s doing, but you pray that he’s resting. You’re so distracted that you weren’t watching where you were going and nearly tripped over a rock hidden in the snow.

“Be careful!”

“I’m okay…”

“What were you looking at?” Kim looks up at the direction you were staring at, then she understands. “Is it Taehyung?”

You nod.

“You two became fast friends. I would’ve never thought that it’d be possible.”

“I guess it is.”

“What do you guys even talk about? You’ll go visit and be gone for hours.”

“Anything, but he likes talking about food mainly. Though, he likes almost everything that I bring in.” You smile unconsciously.

Seeing your cheeks turn red, that’s when it hits Kim. She smirks, elbowing you on the arm. “I get it.”

“What?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“H-huh? What? N...No! Not like that.”

Not this again. You already went through this with Margaret, and you don’t want another misconception...right? You’re actually embarrassed to hear that in contrast to how indifferent you were when Margaret brought it up.

This is the first for Kim to see you in this state. You always appeared calm and collected—making almost every decision without hesitation. Having your more vulnerable side present makes you seem more human.

“If you try to deny it in that tone, obviously I’m going  to assume the other way around! You two hit it off pretty well in the beginning…I mean...You two got along great. You were even begging to see him.”

“Th...that…!”

“Why are you getting so shy? You’re a grown woman, no need to hide how you feel. You act like this is your first crush.” She laughs.

But when you don’t laugh along with her, that’s when she knew that her joke was true.

“Wait...you’ve never liked someone before?! I don’t mean to judge but...of all your years, you’ve never once dated??? Not even had a crush on someone??”

“Yea, I’ve never liked anyone before, but why are you assuming that I like Taehyung…?”

“You make it more obvious than the sky being blue. I’m not gonna lie, Taehyung is pretty handsome. Maybe if he didn’t act childish then I would’ve probably liked him too.”

“It’s not that he’s childish...More like, he’s very curious. But as I  said, I don’t like him in that sort of way.”

“Mm-hmm, you can deny it all you want. It seems like Taehyung’s into you, too. Well...no doubt since you’re the only person to ever talk to him and is around his age.”

You like being around him, but you’re not sure if you like him in that sort of way. You two barely met a few weeks ago, so it’s too premature to be walking through romance territory. Despite it being a few weeks, it truly does feel like you two have known each other for a long time though.

“Well, don’t be in denial for too long. We don’t have much time here until the train comes back, and I don’t think you would want to leave with regrets.”

“I know.”

You don’t like thinking about that. It’ll dishearten him, as well as you, when the time comes. But eventually, you have to tell him that you’re going back home.

“...You said that you’d like him if he wasn’t childish...What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why are you so curious? I meant what I said.”

“So you’re saying you have a chance with him?”

She’s confused, but it takes her a while before realizing your intentions. She elbows your ribcage, laughing. “You’re jealous!”

“I’m...I’m not! I’m just wondering…!”

Kim never realized how easy it is to read you at times. You and Kim continue your conversation until you two return to the inn. As you two walk off, Taehyung watches from his window.

———

“Who’s the lady with you?”

“Lady?”

You’re in the hospital room, peeling the skin of an apple with a knife. The snow has been getting heavier these days and it’s been like this for a while now. The sky has become cloudy, and there’s no sign of the sun anywhere.

“She was with you when you first came here, too.”

“Oh, Kim? We’re acquaintances. We barely know each other.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

“Oh, okay. I thought you two were friends.”

“No, not really. She’s a nice woman though. Why do you ask?”

He keeps quiet, picking on his blanket as he sulks.

“I don’t have that many friends. The only other person that I talk to is my agent.”

His eyes widen.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“I thought you didn’t have anybody…”

You aren’t sure where he’s going with this. You set the sliced apples down on a plate, giving one to him to which he takes.

“I know a lot of people. It’s a part of my job as a journalist.”

“Are you...close with any of them?”

You’re confused with why he’s interested in your personal relationships. That’s when you get the hint, making you smile. “I’m not close with any of them.”

He sighs in relief and you laugh. Surprised by your laughter, he becomes embarrassed. “Wh-what??”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad about not having that many friends?”

He seems confused, so you realized that your initial assumption was wrong. His cheeks turn red, pouting. “That’s not it.”

You tilt your head, confused.

“I thought you didn’t have any friends or close family, so I was surprised with how close you were with that lady.”

“I know a lot of people, but it doesn’t mean that I’m close with them,” after Taehyung finishes one apple slice, you give him another. “Every relationship that I have with someone is different from the other. Like you and Kim for example. Kim is like my current work partner, and you’re…like a friend.”

It’s unusual to call somebody your friend. It was so easy for you to push others away, but Taehyung is the first person that you want to be close with. There was something about him that attracted you—like a fly buzzing toward a light.

And like an attractive light, Taehyung’s smile is just as bright. “I’m glad that I’m your friend.”

“Yea...me too.”

You thought about what Kim said, about how you feel about Taehyung. Of course, he’s a joy to be around—that bubbly yet curious personality of his is hard to dislike. It’s the sort of trait you don’t see too often in adults, especially in the big city, so it’s a breath of fresh air.

You peer over at the window, and it doesn’t seem like the weather is going to calm down. If anything, it looks like it’s going to get worse overnight. It’s so bad that you can’t even see a few feet in front of you.

“Oh no, it looks like there’s going to be a blizzard.”

The inn isn’t that far, and if anything, it won’t be an issue crossing over. But that isn’t the problem. Just the thought of going through a blizzard makes you feel...uncomfortable. Unwanted emotions return, the kind that darkens your mind.

Taehyung can sense the tension, so he thinks of something to bring you back. “Will you be okay?”

“Yea...I think so.”

But he isn’t convinced. Your face says it all, and you don’t want to go out there. He contemplates, then a light bulb turns on when an idea sparks.

“How about you stay here for the night?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. It’s just snow, and this is a place for patients. I don’t want to take up space.”

“No one comes here and it gets a little lonely at night. If you go out tonight, you might get sick, then you’ll have to stay here for sure.”

“What are the chances that I get sick? Besides, the doctor might not—”

“I don’t mind.” The doctor shouts from the lobby.

His voice catches you by surprise. You didn’t think he could hear you two talk, so now it makes you conscious about how much he’s eavesdropped. The walls truly are thin here.

“See? Stay here tonight.” He reaches over, grabbing your hand.

His thumb strokes your knuckles and he gives you puppy eyes. You can’t say no to him when he gives you that look. You cover your mouth, hiding your burning cheeks as well.

“Okay...I’ll sleep in the room next door. Do you know if the doctor has any spare toothbrushes?”

“Yes, I do.” He shouts from the lobby again.

You sigh, wondering how much he’ll keep listening. “Thanks…”

———

You and Taehyung are brushing your teeths in the same bathroom. While you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, Taehyung is fixated on you. He’s trying to copy how you brush your teeth. Whenever you brush your right teeth, he does the same. When you move to your left, he does that as well. When you spit out the foam, he does the same.

After washing your face, you head to your room, and Taehyung follows. You look behind, stopping, and he stops as well. He’s holding a pillow and blanket, giving you the hint that he wants to sleep with you.

“What are you doing?” Even though you know, you still want to ask.

“I want to go to the same room. I don’t like sleeping alone.”

“But isn’t your room fine as it is?”

“Yea but...it doesn’t have you in there.”

You blush. “But sleeping in the same room is…”

He tilts his head, puzzled. With that innocent look on his face, you don’t want to say any further.

“Anyway, we shouldn’t sleep in the room.”

“But we stay in the same room during the day, and for a long time too. What’s wrong about sleeping in the same room?”

“It’s just…”

You know that he won’t do anything to you, but just the thought of sleeping in the same room is a bit too much. You truly are immature—being a woman in her mid-twenties and is still conscious about sleeping in a room with a man, not even the same bed.

“Is it because there’s only bed? You can sleep there and I can sleep on the couch! If you don’t like that, then I can move my bed into your room and—”

“That’s not it. We’re just going to be next door, so if you ever need anything, then just knock.”

He looks disappointed, but he doesn’t push further. “Okay…”

“Then...good night.”

“Good night.”

You walk to the room, and you look behind one more time, waving. He smiles and waves back. It’s saddening to see him look forward to sleeping in the same room as you, but you don’t want to push boundaries. You keep telling yourself that this decision is for the better.

———

The children are having a snowball fight. Just on the outskirts of the small  town, the kids build fortresses out of snow, using it as a shield to avoid the offense team. They’re running around and laughing, thankful for it to be snowing so they can play.

But approaching them with small steps is Taehyung, still as a child, his hands clasped to his thin jacket. He’s shaking violently, his skin so pale and frozen cold. His hair is a mess, dirt marks smeared all over his skin. His bottom lip trembles and has turned blue, but he still smiles.

His stench can be smelled from the distance, disrupting their fun. The smell of sweat is Taehyung’s signature scent, like a foreboding sign that he’s drawing near. He’s gotten skinnier since the last time he came to Little Bare. Bags hide underneath his eyes, his round cheeks absent.

“It’s Taehyung. Run away!”

The children hide behind the fortresses, and this hurts Taehyung. However, he remains determined and keeps smiling. “Can...I play with you guys?”

But his request isn’t heard. The children are occupied with making snowballs, combining it with the rocks on the ground to create spiky snowballs. They make enough to form a pile. They start throwing them at Taehyung, and although the first few miss, some hit his body.

He raises his hands up, using his hands to block his face. He runs off, but right at the last moment, one child is able to nail a snowball perfectly at the back of his head. THACK! Only he heard the impact to his head. It was hard enough that he fell forward, his face landing first.

The children laugh. “Hurry! Run before the hungry boy eats us!!”

They skip away to their homes. He loses consciousness for a few seconds before groaning. His head pulsates, touching where it hurts but immediately pulls his hand away because of how painful it is. Underneath his breath, he calls for his mother. He calls for her many times, but no matter how many times, she doesn’t return to rescue him.

Still, he wants to believe that his mother will return. She’ll return to him to make him a warm meal under a roof. He’ll finally get to eat candy like the rest of the kids, and maybe, just maybe, the kids will let him play with them. But for now, he has to prove that he’s strong in hopes that his mother will want him back.

As he gets up, limping as his desire to conform with the kids slowly turns into disgust. The animosity grows as strong as the dizziness that blurs his vision. He limps for what felt like hours until he returns to his new home—a large, ominous cave. The mouth of the cave is dark and hollow, like it can suck anyone of any size in.

He leans on the rocky walls, scratching his arm while dragging his body deeper into the darkness. He places his hand on the wall, leaving bloody handprints and smearing them as he moves. He falters, landing face first, which worsens the damage to the head. He turns his head to the left, and there’s a mysterious marking of a grizzly bear with strange symbols around it. It’s been there ever since he found the cave.

His vision blackens as his eyelids become heavier. One tear drops from his eye, apologizing to his mother that he couldn’t be as strong as she hoped for. Within two weeks of her disappearance, he’s giving up. Fighting became a chore, and now sleeping seems like a better option.

And thus, he closes his eyes for good. And the last thing he thought of was a wish. A wish that he could’ve made at least one friend.

But before he does, the drawing of the grizzly bear on the wall begins to glow.

———-

Taehyung gasps for air, clawing at his throat. He felt pressure on his chest, and it was so clustered that he could’ve sworn that he stopped breathing. He sits up, not realizing that he had been crying in his sleep. Looking down at his pillow, there’s a large puddle of tears and on his eyes as well.

He brings his knees closer to him, covering his ears as he squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it. I don’t want them anymore, he repeats in his head. His memories are terrifying, as if every time he goes back in the past, all it ever becomes is jumping straight into a nightmare. Waking up from an unwanted dream makes this damp room seem scarier, like there’s no one to protect him.

“(Y/N)...” You’re the first person to come to mind. But when he calls for your name, you’re not there. He recalls that you’re sleeping in the room next door.

He gets out of bed, grabbing his pillow and blanket as he walks out of the room. He drags his feet to your room, knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)? Are you asleep?”

There’s no response. He looks at both ends of the hallway, paranoid that some evil ghost is going to appear in either direction. He clutches onto the pillow tighter.

“(Y/N)?”

The calm snow has turned into a blizzard again, and the gales whistle in the cracks of the windows. The wind shakes violently against the window, almost like a robber trying to break in. It scares him more, so he lowers his head, praying that you heard him.

“(Y/N)? Are you there?”

It reminds him of his childhood after his mother left. After wandering in the forest for a long time, he found a cave. While he was excited to live there, nighttime was never his favorite. The large opening left him vulnerable to wild animals to potentially attack him. And standing at the center of the hall reminds him of that, that exposure of his body to the cold world, his life taken away at any second.

“I’m scared...so please…”

The doorknob twists, startling him. He gasps, holding his breath in, but he lets it go when it was you that opened it. You’re rubbing your eyes, yawning. “Taehyung? What are you doing up so late?”

He hastily enters your room, closing the door for you. “Is it okay if I sleep here?”

You don’t make an immediate response, which scares him that you’ll decline.

“I had a nightmare.”

It might be because you’re half-asleep, but it doesn’t take that much persuasion to let him sleep. “Alright...but sleep on the couch.”

“Okay!” He takes baby steps to the couch, placing his pillow by the arm rest and lays down. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Sleep tight.” And just like that, you go to bed.

Taehyung watches you sleep, seeing as you’ve already knocked out within seconds. He tries to fall asleep as well, but no matter how many times he tosses and turns, he can’t sleep. He’s gotten comfortable being the person he is now, happy to be here and seeing you every day, not the depressed child who was abandoned by everyone.

Some time has gone by, and he still can’t sleep. He’s staring at the ceiling, listening to you breathe steadily. The nightmare he had is as vivid as ever, experiencing the phantom pain that came with the head injury.

“(Y/N)? Are you still awake?” Without a response, it tells Taehyung that you’re not.

He sits up, staring at you. He gives it a few seconds before getting out of bed. He stands over your bed before making the rash decision to sleep next to you.

He lays down, his face just mere inches away from yours. Despite being so close, he finds your face mesmerizing. He’s so close that he can feel your breathing.

Taehyung wanted to lay next to you just to see how it’s like to sleep next to someone. It’s so comforting knowing that there’s someone next to him, like the paranoia has been swept away. The longer he stares at you, the redder his face turns. Even though it’s the middle of winter, his face feels hot. He sees you every day, but he can’t understand why he’s nervous now.

He wants to move closer, but your hand is in between your and his face. Rather than move it away, he bites his bottom lip in contemplation. He’s already crossing the line, so he’s afraid that you’ll push him away if he tries too much.

He puts his hand over yours, intertwining his fingers. Your hands are smaller than he thought, his palm already engulfing it. Not only that, but your hand is so warm. Your fingers jolt, which nearly made him pull his hand away. But after that, you’re still. He sighs in relief.

Laying next to him is you, the person who’s taken care of him since the beginning. Judging on his fragmented memories, you’re the first person to ever fight to be with him. It doesn’t matter the reason, he’s just happy that someone thinks that he’s worth it. But at the same time, you’re the person who got him into this mess. You’re the one who threw that rock, just like the other kids. You made his head bleed like how they did. And yet…

He forgives you.

He gently presses his forehead against your forehead. He wished you could stay with him forever so that he can never experience abandonment again. Taehyung is afraid that you’ll end up being like his mother—crying for your name but you never coming to his rescue.

———

The blizzard has died down, and the blaring sun blinds your eyes. You flutter your eyes open, using your arm to cover them from the light. You sit up, exhaling as your vision adjusts to the morning rays.

“Good morning!” Taehyung exclaims as he opens the windows.

You had forgotten that he slept here last night. Even though it’s early in the morning, Taehyung is as energetic as usual.

“Did you sleep well?” You rub your eyes.

“Better than ever.”

You barely remember what happened last night. You know you got up to open the door, but after that, it was a blur. Taehyung also looks chirpier than usual, though you don’t know why. It could be because he got what he wanted and sleep in the same room as you. Whatever the reason, you’re glad that he’s smiling.

As you get out of bed and into the bathroom to wash up, he glances at you. His smile is gone, contemplating some thoughts in his head.

In the bathroom, you splash water in your face after brushing your teeth. You look at yourself in the mirror and massage your cheeks, feeling a little conscious about making weird faces in your sleep. You hope that you didn’t make any noises during the night either.

You walk out of the door, startled when Taehyung turns out to be just by the entrance. “Whoa! Sorry, did I almost hit you?”

But he ignores your question, folding his hands together. “(Y/N), I was just wondering...but you live in the city, right?”

“Yea, I do.”

“...When are you leaving?”

“Uhm...we’ve been here for a pretty long time now, so I think I have a few days until our train comes to pick us up.”

He looks pained just hearing that. “Then...if it’s okay with you, can I show you something before you leave? I think I finally know who I am, at least, the more important parts of myself.”

“This...came out of nowhere, but I’m glad you remember everything. What do you want to show me?”

“It’s...where I used to live. It’s not that far from here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You live near here? Sure, I don’t mind, but are you even allowed to go out?”

“...Yea. The doctor gave me permission to leave. Is it possible to go later tonight?”

Tonight? You’re unsure about it. It’s too dangerous, especially if you two stray too far away from the town. “Can’t we go tomorrow morning? It’ll be too dark if we go later.”

“I know, but I’m afraid that if we wait in the morning, then i’m going to forget. Please! It sounds crazy...a-and stupid, but I don’t want to sit around and wait anymore. There’s...something I want to confirm with myself. My memories are jumbled up, and I feel like if I go as soon as possible, then everything will make sense. If not, then can we at least go when the sun’s setting?”

You’re still hesitant about it. But seeing the desperation in his eyes, it’s apparent that with or without you, he’s going to go on his own. The tale of the Winter Bear is real, and if Taehyung is taken by it, then it’ll be blood on your hands. If not that, then a coyote can eat him too.

It’s that feeling of responsibility coming back again. If you say no and he’s in danger, you have to live with guilt. You can’t bear to lose another person because of your selfishness.

“O...okay, I’ll go with you. But only in the condition that we go back as soon as you show me.”

“Thank you so much!”

Even though he seemed happy earlier, there’s an air of seriousness. You thought it was strange that he lives near here, and despite Little Bare being so small, no one knew he had been nearby all this time. Although he’s vague about it, it does make you curious about him.

———

“You’re going out again?” Kim crosses her arms.

While back in the inn, you’re putting on your coat. The whole day has already gone by, and you’re going to meet Taehyung just like you planned. However, Kim isn't impressed by it.

“Is he even allowed to go out? It doesn’t seem like he completely recovered.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Apparently, the doctor said that it was okay.”

However, Kim doesn’t seem to agree with your answer. She creases her eyebrows, putting her index finger to her chin as if thinking.

“What?”

“You know...you’ve been seeing him a lot lately. More than actually doing work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for not helping. Is there anything specific you wanted me to do?”

“No...it’s okay. I already have a basis for my book. Besides, if this was to help you reconcile with your past, then it’s alright.”

“...I feel horrible, like I didn’t help at all.”

She shakes her head. “No, you did a lot more than you think.”

You crease your eyebrows, not entirely sure what she means by that. Regardless, you’re glad that you somehow helped her, though not sure with what and how.

“But...I’m really curious. What relationship do you have with Taehyung? I know you told me that you just met him, but to be frank, whenever I do see you two talk, it seems like you guys have known each other for years.”

You don’t respond. This should be an easy answer, yet, you struggle.

“Miss Suniya told me about you. Mind if we chat for a little bit before you go?”

“Sure...” You sit down on a chair, then Kim sits by the edge of the bed. “What did she say about me?”

“She told me that you have selective memory loss.”

You’re not surprised that Suniya told her about your condition.

“I’m sure there are things that you do and don’t remember about this place, which is why it probably wasn’t so hard to convince you to come with me. The reason why I never bothered you to help me with the book is because I wanted to give you the chance to regain the repressed memories naturally.”

You don’t know where she’s going with this. “...Why is it important that I remember?”

“Well, I...this...you…” she stumbles with her words. “I just want to tell you that you’re a really special person.”

“...Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t think you understand how hard it was to get into contact with you,” She steps closer. “Miss (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever seen the Winter Bear and survived. You’re the reason why I became intrigued with this myth in the first place, but those blockbuster people paid news outlets to get rid of articles written about you to sell this myth as a friendly story, so I hit a dead end until I read your article and knew that I found you.”

Things are beginning to click, but you don’t like where this is going. “This...isn’t only about the myth...is it?”

“Do you not realize how big this story is going to be when I write about your encounter with the bear?! People are gonna go crazy over it, then people won’t look down on me for studying mythology. So that’s why, Miss (Y/N), I want to know your relationship with that Taehyung person. My instincts tell me that there’s more to him than what meets the eye.”

“So...you’re doing all this to make money?”

“Why else are we here?” Kim crosses her arms. “Miss (Y/N), don’t pretend to be a hero when we both know that you tagged along for the money, too.”

“This doesn’t feel right...and what about Taehyung?”

The misery that you went through only to be exploited for money is one thing, but for her to use Taehyung, it’s a different story. You’re so infuriated with her that everything in your vision turns red. You thought about punching her, but you manage to control yourself.

Kim gets on her knees, right before your feet. “Who cares about what he thinks? Miss (Y/N), we are writers trying to survive, aren’t we? No matter how many people compliment our writing abilities, words aren’t going to put food on the plate.”

“Stop it…”

You have a flashback of being a kid again, but in the hospital, being checked for any injuries. You didn’t show any physical pain, your mentality however…

“No, I don’t want to…”

“I need you to go back in the past and try. It doesn’t hurt to remember Annie, right?”

The image of your mother crouching over a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries her heart out. You two are in the police station, waiting for any updates to Annie’s disappearance when a policeman broke the devastating news that they won’t continue the search.

“Don’t you want justice for your baby sister? So you need to come out and describe how the Winter Bear looks like.”

You cover your ears, fragments of your memories that you tried so hard to bury are returning to the surface. You remember the forest, knee-deep in the snow, meeting the friend you made during your stay here. You remember intertwining your pinky finger with your friend’s finger, promising that you’ll be friends forever. A childish vow that you wished you never committed. Because you also promised that friend that you’ll introduce Annie.

“So please, remember—”

“Stop it! I should’ve never come along with you!”

You get up from the chair, marching right for the door and slamming it behind you. Now standing on the other side of the door, you lean on it, rubbing your eyes as you grunt. You don’t want to remember; it’s better if they never come back. You like the way things are. You have nothing to worry about, you want to feel like there’s nothing to worry about. For now, you just want to see Taehyung.

———

At the front of the inn, Taehyung is already there, wearing a thick jacket but is still in his patient uniform. It’s already dark out, but you can see him clearly. When he sees you, he smiles and waves. However, you seem fazed with what Kim said. He’s quick to catch on to your discomfort, so he wraps his hands around yours. It catches you by surprise, but it goes away when he beams.

“How are you?”

“Great, how about you?”

“Good! It’s a lot colder than the last time I went outside.”

You chuckle. “Yea, you’ve been locked up in that hospital.”

“The hospital isn’t that bad. Anyway, are you ready?”

“Sure. How hard is it from here?”

“Not too far,” he takes you by the hand. “Come on, it’s already getting dark.”

He drags you to the direction of his supposed home. You look back at the inn, your senses finally returning and realizing that you’re really going to Taehyung’s residence late at night. You know you can trust him, but there’s something off about this that lingers in the back of your head. Yet, you don’t want to go back either, especially after hearing Kim’s real motive. You want to stay with Taehyung because you feel safer with him. Unlike many adults you’ve encountered, he’s transparent.

———

“Taehyung...are you sure you know where you’re going?”

As you two head deeper into the forest, the lights that came from the town disappear. You hold onto his hand tighter, fear crawling up your skin. It doesn’t help that it’s night either. In contrast to you, Taehyung is undisturbed.

“Yup, it’s beginning to look familiar.”

You regret choosing to go later in the day. If anything, you feel like a complete idiot for agreeing to go this late. It might be because you’re older and know the dangers of the world, but the woods seem far scarier compared to when you were a child.

“I don’t like this…! Let’s go back.”

After saying that, you hear a branch crack and it startles you. You let out a yelp, instinctively grabbing onto Taehyung’s arm. It doesn’t frighten him, so he’s clueless about why you’re afraid.

“If you’re scared, then hold on to me.”

Now conscious about your actions, you pull away, your cheeks flush with red. However, Taehyung doesn’t give you a chance to reconsider and drags you back into his arms. He wraps around your shoulders, squeezing you closer to his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile. You avert your eyes, sulking, but he’s not wrong about you being scared. You hold onto his shirt as you two continue walking.

To distract you from your fears, he changes the topic. “What kind of house do you live in?”

“Mine? Hm...well...it’s nothing fantastic. I live in a one-bedroom apartment.”

“That’s it?”

You nod. “It’s probably a little bigger than your private room back at the clinic.”

“Really?!”

“It’s small but so expensive...How about your home? I never got to ask if you live with anyone.” Though, judging by how no one that he knew came by to pick him up, he most likely lives alone.

“I live alone...and my home...is a little different from a normal home. It is big though.”

“Oh really? That must be cool. And to have it all for yourself too.”

“It was, and I thought it was cool because of how roomy it was...but it didn’t take for me to dislike it.”

“Oh...I’m surprised nobody has ever mentioned that you lived nearby...But speaking of your home, I was wondering, how long have you been living here?”

“Ever since I was a kid.”

“Really? And you’ve never ran into the Winter Bear?”

He shakes his head. “I rarely see bears in general.”

You thought it was strange how he’s lived here since he was a child and yet, he has never been kidnapped. If he’s lived here since he was young, then he would’ve been long gone.

“...My mother always told me that I’ll grow up to be strong. She said that I’ll be so strong that I won’t need to sleep like a bear who hibernates. And I believed her.”

Your ears perk up, listening to him attentively. You recall when Margaret that bears technically don’t hibernate.

“But a part of me thinks that it was mental training to prepare for when she abandoned me.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“That’s when I found a home to live. It was hard living by myself. Kids from Little Bare made fun of me for being a dirty boy and threw rocks at me until I ran away.”

“What are you talking about…? Little Bare doesn’t have any kids…”

“I hated living alone because it was scary, and all I wanted was a friend, or anybody who was willing to keep me company.”

What he’s saying is beginning to sound suspicious. You slowly pull yourself away from him, and it doesn’t seem like he minds.

“You know...travelling through my memories...I’ve always seen snow. Little Bare is always snowing no matter what year it is.”

“Taehyung...Little Bare doesn’t snow all the time. You know that...right?”

“Yea...so I wonder how the other seasons look like. It’s been so long. I learned that snow soaks in all sounds, which is why it’s always quiet during winter. I hate the silence more than anything. I want to know how it’s like to live where it’s filled with laughter.”

Taehyung draws near to his home, which is located in the middle of the forest. Horror slowly seeps under your skin when you start noticing how...familiar this place is. It was difficult to see the resemblance because of how dark it is, but once your eyes adjust to it, it looks as clear as your memories.

“So...it’s a little disheartening to hear that you’re leaving soon, (Y/N). I was hoping you could be here longer.”

You know this place all too well. Your legs begin to tremble, mortified that you have returned to the place that you desperately tried to keep buried in your subconscious. Standing before you is a large cave, towering over you and Taehyung. It’s like a gaping mouth ready to swallow anyone that comes in.

You fall backward, your hands buried in the freezing snow. You can’t get your eyes off of the cave as you hear haunting cries of children’s souls trickling from the depths of the hellhole; one of them sounds exactly like Annie.

Taehyung sees the pure terror in your eyes, crouching over as he tries to help you up. However, when he reaches his hand out, you finally remember exactly who Taehyung is. It makes sense why it was so easy for you to get along with him and why it felt like you’ve known him for so long. Back when you were six years old, this very person is the cursed Winter Bear—the monster who took Annie away.

You swipe his hand away, so shaken that no words are expressed. Your breathing becomes unstable, panic sets in, and your mind goes all sorts of directions. You think about one thing, but your mind heads the other way. You see Taehyung’s mouth moving, but you can’t hear it, only muffles. You can only hear a static ring fly across your ears. Even in the freezing temperatures, you’re sweating bullets.

“(Y/N)...I—”

“S-STAY AWAY!” You crawl backward, swinging your hand side to side to defend yourself from him.

It’s that innocent look in his eyes again that you vividly recall. He was able to transform into a bear and a kid, but when you first met him, he was a child just like you who found you playing in the snow by yourself. He lured you in with fictional affection, promising that he’ll never let you be neglected. It was all a ruse to lock you in that cave, just like the hundreds of souls in there, including your little sister’s.

He looks hurt, but he understands. Right as your memories are coming back to you, it’s returning to him as well. The screams of his victims, the scared look on their faces as they try to escape, and his vicious obsession of chasing after them. He pulls his hand back, knowing full well the crime that he committed twenty years ago. Just one glance at you and he knew that you won’t forgive him. So when you fled, he didn’t bother to chase after you.

All you hear from behind is the aching cries of a young man.

———

Keep running.

Don’t look back.

Focus in front of you.

You run through the forest without a light source. You don’t even know if it’s the right direction back to town, but anywhere is better than there. It was just like that time when you narrowly escaped Taehyung’s grasps. He was so occupied with your sister that he lost sight of you. Just like history repeating itself, you barely escaped his grasp.

You hate yourself for falling into his trap for a second time. Like a pied piper luring children, it was like his curse never uplifted. No wonder it didn’t take a lot for you to turn down the chance to come back to the town. You never learned from your mistakes, and that’s because you kept running away. You ran away so often that you even forgot his face.

Tears blur your vision, so you use your forearm to wipe them away. Despite the revelation, the resurgence of painful reminices, you feel awful for running away from Taehyung. You can’t forget the times spent with him, sharing personal stories of yourself and vice versa, and your friendship deepening. You promised him that he can rely on you, but you already broke it. But...how do you keep a promise with the monster who not only took your sister, but also took away your childhood?

You’re so focused on wiping the tears away that you bumped into someone and fell down. You scream in terror, kicking your feet as you try to get up.

“Hey! (Y/N), calm down!”

The person tries to grab your flailing legs, but you only kick harder. “STOP IT! LET GO! HELP!”

“(Y/N), (Y/N), it’s me! It’s me, relax!!” You feel two hands cupping your cheeks so you can look at the person. “It’s me, Suniya.”

You stop panicking. But your mind feels foggy, and for a moment, you’ve forgotten where you’re at.

“We work together. You’re a journalist, and I’m your agent. You’re twenty-six years old and live in the city. You graduated from the University of Redlands, and you’re the daughter of two parents who live miles away from you. You came here with a researcher to study the town called Little Bare. I came here because I was worried since I couldn’t contact you, then Miss Kim led me here.”

Your breathing becomes steady, regaining control of your unstable mind. It all comes back to you, and now that you got the chance to process what’s happened, your body becomes weak. The only thing you want to do now is cry. You hold onto Suniya, burying your face in her arms as you wail like a child.

Suniya is in shock, never seeing you cry this much before. She knew how much the Winter Bear affected you, but not to this extent, and it breaks her heart. She hugs you back, tears streaming down from her eyes as well.

“Suniya...I...lied. I lied to him again. I ran away. I got scared...I-I couldn’t think...then I left him there...An-Annie...I heard her cry. She was crying so much…”

“It’s okay...you’re safe. Don’t cry.” She hushes you.

She rocks you back and forth as you continue to sob. Your sentences are everywhere, but to question you in this state isn’t going to help. For now, what you need is to hide in somebody else’s arms until you’re okay.

———

“I shouldn’t never fucking agreed to this!” Suniya shouts.

In the room that you stayed in, Suniya is arguing with Kim. You’re sitting in the fetal position in the halls, your back against the wall. Even though the doors are closed, you can hear Yesosang’s voice as clear as day.

It’s the next morning, and you couldn’t sleep a wink. You and Suniya stayed in another room from the inn, not letting Kim know that you returned. The moment the sun rose, Suniya went straight to Kim’s room and has been arguing with her since.

“I thought I had to worry about you because (Y/N) can be a handful but...it was her that I should’ve been more concerned about. You're an absolute scum.”

“Please, try to understand from my viewpoint. Miss (Y/N)’s story needs to be heard—”

“‘Heard’? You mean use?! You don’t give a fuck about what she went through. I should’ve known better and not leave her in the hands of a stranger.”

“You didn’t need to word it that way. I was just trying to help her. I feel like, as a scholar in pursuit of knowledge, she has every right to remember every second of her memories.”

“Oh, don’t give me that scholar bullshit!! You’re no different than those Hollywood people exploited this damn town for money, and you’re not even different from us who are trying to live each day trying to make money. (Y/N)’s repressed memory is not your textbook!”

You can’t handle all this shouting anymore. You’re upset with yourself to make Suniya come all the way here, wasting her family time just to find you. Even though she blames Kim, you feel accountable for agreeing to go on this trip. Suniya can blame your mental instability all she wants, you’re still an adult, and you still said yes.

You wonder what Taehyung’s doing right now. Hopefully, he isn’t cold.

“We’re leaving tonight. You can stay stranded here for all I care. When we get back, we’re going to make sure that every publication doesn’t want to work with you,” Suniya stomps out of the room, taking you by the hand and dragging you with her. “Let’s go, (Y/N).”

As you two walk down the halls, she can sense the immense amount of guilt you’re carrying. She knows you’re blaming yourself, so she slows down and holds both of your hands.

“It’s not your fault, so stop worrying.”

You want to stop, but the guilt won’t leave. Once again, it’s suffocating thinking about what you could’ve done to prevent this from happening.

———

Outside, a gust of wind nearly blows Suniya off of her feet. She was only able to keep still because she was holding onto you. “Holy shit, is the weather always this bad??”

“It became like this recently.”

“Ugh…if this continues, then we might not be able to leave. Sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s fine.”

Just as you two were returning to the inn, Magaret chases after you two. “Hold up just a minute! (Y/N), can I have a word with you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s okay, Suniya. Margaret’s been taking care of me.”

She hugs you, almost making you break your back. “Oh dear god, I’m glad you’re alright. I heard that you went off into the forest with that young man. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

You shake your head.

“Thank god. Sheriff Tusk is currently looking for him and will make sure that his ass goes to prison.”

“Wait, what?”

“You can never fully trust men. They’re deceitful and only strive for one thing, and that’s—”

“Is there something important you wanted to say to (Y/N)? We’re in a bit of a hurry to leave.” Suniya saw how disturbed you became when she mentioned Taehyung.

Margaret scoffs. “In this weather? Lady, you’re gonna die if you go today.”

“Why?”

“It’s gonna be ‘nother blizzard happenin’ tonight, and it’s crazier than it’s ever been before. You outta stay one more night.”

But Suniya doesn’t have the patience to deal with another person. “Look, I know you guys don’t have that many outsiders, but I know when locals are trying to make tourists cough out as much money as possible. We’ll be taking our leave.”

What Margaret said about Sheriff Tusk going out to look for Taehyung, so it worries you that he’ll get in trouble. But knowing how quickly Suniya wants to leave this place, she won’t want to stay.

“Wait...I think you should listen to her…”

“You too??”

“The weather here can be pretty bad. We should stay one more night.”

“...Will you be fine…?”

You nod. “I’m not a kid.”

But she seems hesitant, but seeing as the weather is getting worse, it might be for the best. Besides, you’ve been here longer than she has, so she has no choice but to abide by your request. “Okay…”

Margaret’s eyes haven’t left you, clearly showing how worried she is for you. However, she doesn’t say anything as she knows you might want to brush it off. “Yea...it might be for the better.”

———

Later that night in the inn, you’re laying in bed while Suniya is taking a shower. And just like what Margaret said, the town is going through yet another blizzard. This time, it’s heavier compared to the first one. You’re still thinking about everything that happened the night before. You don’t know how you were unable to recognize Taehyung since the beginning.

Did you really repress your memories that much that you forgot his face? The cries from the children’s souls are still imprinted in your mind. Perhaps in the back of your head, you had a hutch that it was him, but his purity made you doubt yourself. Maybe you were keen on going back to him to confirm that it isn’t him from twenty years ago that you ignored the red flags.

Despite the tragedy that he caused in your family, you can’t forget the times spent together. Exposed to the reality of the world made you disregard that there are kind people like Taehyung. He’s caring...but you keep going back to when he lured you and Annie to his cave. It’s conflicting, like two sides of him that you know are real, yet they challenge one another. On one side, he’s your antagonist, but on the other side, he’s like a savior.

There’s a knocking at the door, alerting you. You get up, wondering if you should open it, but seeing as the knocking won’t stop, you get out of bed and open it. On the other side is Kim.

“Hi, Miss—” You nearly slam the door in her face, but she put her weight on the door just in time. “P-please, just give me a minute to explain! I just want to apologize for my selfishness!! I should’ve known better than to take advantage of your trauma.”

You take a second to rethink before opening it for her. You glance at the bathroom, hearing the showerhead still going off.

“You have until Suniya finishes showering to tell me.”

“Thank you…uhm...Again, I’m sorry...I was caught up with my own goals that I lost myself for a second. But...there are a few things that I’ve been doing way before I met you…” she shows you a vanilla folder in her arms. “Here’s some information that I’ve gathered from the town’s archives. It was not an easy task to obtain, so please take good care of them.”

 She passes the folder to you. When you open it, it’s filled with records that look so old that it’ll crumble at any second. Some of these papers feel like it’s decades old too.

“What’s this?”

“My research. I hope this is enough for you to forgive me...I think it’ll really help you with figuring out who Taehyung is and what this curse is.”

And just like that, Kim leaves. You close the door and set the folder down on the desk, spreading every individual paper out for you to read. Some of them are extremely old—going as far as the late 1800’s. The papers on top of the stack are about every recorded disappearance in Little Bare, even some that came after Annie’s. In total, there are a little under sixty child disappearances. As you go through each article, from most recent to oldest, you notice that at some point, the Winter Bear lore became big in the news in the 1950s when a wealthy child went missing. There was even an attempt to make a film out of it but was cancelled due to how controversial it was. To some extent, there was a children’s book in the 1940s about the bear as well.

But as you go back in time, there tends to be less coverage in the early 1900s, most likely due to new coverage of the two World Wars being more favored. A majority of its timeline has been skipped over, and now you’re in the 1880s with newspapers with titles like Exclusive!! Small Town Cursed with Black Magic or Real-Life Witch Doctor Lives!! Cave is an Accessway to Hell. The columns come with pictures of supposed real cave drawings, all are shapes resembling animals, some are birds, dogs, fish, and...bears. There are outrageous claims that the one responsible for those drawings used their blood.

However, as you skim through the articles, it explains what the purpose of those drawings are. Each one resembles the strength of each animal, bird = flight, fish = underwater breathing, etc. There are also theories that the etchings give the holder the ability to shapeshift, though it’s limited. In the third and last article, the title says, Breaking News: Immortality Exists...Or Does It?

Once you go through the papers, you make it to the last few papers. It’s been clipped together with a paperclip, and it’s a record of residences who previously lived in Little Bare. As you flip through them, some pages stick out to you. Some names in each year are highlighted with yellow, and it doesn’t take long for you to learn the pattern. Every name that Kim has colored in are Korean immigrants, and, in particular, there’s a large spike in Korean names in the 1910 records. In that exact, there’s only one name that has been highlighted and circled.

The name is Kim Taehyung.

After 1910, the Korean population here decreased significantly, to where there were no more. And the paper at the bottom of the stack is a black-and-white copy of a photograph with all the Korean immigrants that moved into Little Bare in that year. One there’s a pair that stands out to you. It’s a younger version of Taehyung smiling, and standing behind him is a woman, presumably his mother.

That’s when everything clicked for you. And in that moment, you take the picture from the folder, put on your boots and scarf, and take your thick coat before running out through the doors. You can’t wait for this blizzard to die down, and you have a feeling that it won’t if you don’t go now.

But you stop in your tracks, returning to the room, almost forgetting something. You look through the drawers to grab something small before putting it in your pocket before dashing back out.

———

The blizzard is more intense than ever before, even to the point to where you can barely see anything. Even opening your eyes wider already feels like they’ll freeze. You trek onward to the cave, praying that he’s still there. You’re fully aware at how ridiculous and idiotic this is, like you could’ve waited until it calmed down. But deep down, you know it won’t die down until you find him.

Thankfully, you made it to the cave without any problems. You pick up the pace as you enter the cave, shivering almost to death. Even with multiple layers of clothes, you’re freezing to the point where you can’t feel your feet. In front of you is the black hole that belongs to the cave. The cries of the childrens that Taehyung has taken lurks on the other side. You gulp, clenching your fists to stop them from trembling. You look over your shoulder at the blizzard. You can’t turn back now, so you have to push forward.

You turn on the flashlight on your phone and continue walking. The deeper you went, the louder the cries became. The walls start closing in, and on there are also the same animal drawings from the newspapers. The sound of water droplets complements the hollow cries. It’s getting so loud that it’s beginning to unnerve you. You want to cover your ears, but even if you do, the dreadful cries won’t leave.

But you know that the kids are trying to warn you to leave. They don’t want you to make the same mistakes they made. They’re children—pure souls who lost their young lives. They don't have any intentions to play tricks on you, so that’s why you have to keep pushing through because you have unfinished business.

“(Y/N)...” A young girl’s voice calls out from behind.

Even though you haven’t heard that voice in years, you know exactly who it is. Turning your head around, an apparition of Annie forms. There she is—in her blue-and-white striped dress and pink jacket with the brown boots. She hasn’t aged a bit, but she’s crying.

“Don’t go. Go back home where you have a warm house and people who care about you.” Annie whimpers.

Hearing her speak weighs heavily on your chest. You can’t hold back the tears, so you let it out.

She extends her hand out. “If you don’t hurry, then you’ll freeze to death here.”

Your knees almost gave in, nearly making you fall. Even though you know full well that she can’t be alive, a part of you feels relieved to see her again. It may not even be her, just a recreation that Taehyung made. She has to be his recreation because a two-year-old wouldn’t know to say this.

You approach her spirit, crouching down to her level. You wipe your eyes, exhaling while you smile. “Hi Annie, thanks for warning me. You’re just trying to look out for your older sister, aren’t you?”

She continues to cry, nodding her head.

“It’s okay, you can trust me now. Your big sister is now a grown up. I’m just going to talk to our friend.”

“But! That’s not a friend! He’s a monster who’s done bad things. It’s his fault that I died and that Mom and Dad hates you. He’s made you miserable. He’s the problem!” She cries even louder.

You tilt your head, your grin not once leaving. “I know, but sometimes people do things because they’ve been wronged, too. They won’t know that they’re doing something bad until they learn the good in the world. Our friend was just lonely because he left his homeland, then his parents left him, and no one wanted to be his friend.”

Annie finally stops crying.

“So when he finally made a friend, he wanted it to last forever. That’s why he took their souls. It didn’t help when he had more bad luck and became immortal and has supernatural powers. I just know that deep down, he’s a good person who’s been on the wrong path for a very long time. Right...Taehyung?”

You stand up, turning around after the spirit of your sister disappears. The cries from the children dissipate, and the only one left crying is Taehyung. You approach him slowly, and as you get closer, you can hear him repeatedly mumbling, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ under his breath.

“Am I right, Taehyung? It just got out of hand, and your fear took over you.”

“...I hate opening my eyes to this empty cave. Because I know that whenever I went to town, everyone else would have friends or families to return to when I had nobody. And I never asked to be cursed to live forever either! Why couldn’t I have died a long time ago?!”

He continues to wallow in his own misery.

“And it’s worse when I’m only awake during winter. I don’t even remember what spring, summer, or fall looks like...”

A bear who doesn’t sleep during winter isn’t strong, but a lonely animal because he’ll be the only one awake. Taehyung may be able to live for a long time, but in exchange, he has to hibernate for nine months because the curse is too strong to hold.

“I don’t want to be attached to you. I’m afraid that I’ll try to take you away, but I’m also scared that I’ll never see you again. (Y/N), you’re the only person who’s ever showed me kindness after a hundred years...and I’m afraid that I’ll never experience that again. So please...leave me when you still have the chance. You have a life out there.”

“You don’t have to stay here! You can live with me and—”

“You think I haven’t tried leaving? I’ve tried leaving so many times, but each time I try, I feel like I’m on a leash. The further I go, the more suffocating it gets. An invisible rope is around my neck, but I don’t die. You don’t understand...I’m stuck here forever.”

You don’t want to think about the many attempts he’s tried to end his life. You can’t imagine how you’ll turn out if you were stuck in his position. You’ll probably become insane like him, too. Waking up to the same snowy setting with no one to be there for you. After all, the color white can make people go insane if you see it too much.

You tighten your fists. “Then...then I’ll stay.”

“What?!”

“Let the children’s spirits free and I can stay with you.”

But he shakes his head. “No...don’t give me hope. Just go! Don’t waste yourself with me.”

“No, you listen to me. I’m willing to do it.”

“But...why?! I’ve made your life horrible, and I selfishly took your sister away. I’m the cause of all your problems! I don’t deserve anything from you.”

The pressure of the lives he’s taken away is beginning to weigh down on him, and it’s so much that he can’t handle it. It’s a complicated conflict where he took away so many loved ones from their family, including Annie, but the world was so unfair to him before he fell under this cave’s curse. He didn’t kill because he enjoyed it, but because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions and ended up releasing it in a way he never consciously meant to happen. No matter how hard you try to forget what he’s done, it’ll never leave. It’s engraved into your memory regardless of how much you’ve tried to repress it. You can’t forget but…

You scour through your pocket, showing him the watermelon-flavored candy. He’s confused, but in exchange, you beam. “This is my favorite flavor, and it’s yours too, isn’t it?”

You unwrap it, giving the candy to him. When he doesn’t accept it, you nudge it to him, then he hesitantly takes it.

“Eat it and let the bitterness go away.”

He stares at it, unsure of what your intentions are.

“Almost every kid loves candy, and it’s because of how sweet it is. It’s so sugary that it distracts them from their sorrow. But...it’s also special because of how short-lived the candy is. At some point, it’ll melt in your mouth, and then you’ll want another one, and you can’t keep eating it, otherwise your teeth will rot.”

He clenches it in his fist. “...Why are you going so far for me?”

“Because I like you.”

His eyes widen, almost as if he’s never heard of from somebody else. He thought he heard you wrong. Taehyung is so starstruck.

“I know I can never forget what you’ve done to Annie and what happened after...and honestly...I’m still conflicted. But after getting to know you, I realized that you’re a victim like anybody else. You can’t bring back the kids, but what you can do is learn from your mistakes. So...let the kids go and promise to never take another person’s life.”

You kiss him on the forehead for good luck. After pulling yourself back, but while you were caught off-guard, he leans over to give you a peck on the lips. He feels your chapped lips, which you find embarrassing, but doesn’t matter to him—only that his feelings have also been conveyed to you too.

He pulls back, too timid to look at you in the eyes. “I don’t want to disappoint you, so I vow to never take another person’s life, not even yours.”

“What…? T-Tae…”

“Like what you said, I can’t always be looking for ways to be in an infinite paradise. It’ll just leave me miserable, and I don’t want that to happen to you. What we had was special, and I’ll never forget it. So...it’s okay, you can go.”

From behind, you can hear children laughing. Small hands reach over, grabbing you by your jacket and dragging you away from him.

“Wa-wait, Taehyung! What are you doing?!”

He watches as you try to fight the children’s grasp, knowing full well that if they weren’t there to help him, then you wouldn’t leave. You have a feeling that this will be the last time you’ll see him, so you become choked up in your tears.

“No, don’t do this!”

But he doesn’t respond, afraid that if he says something, he’ll break down.

“Taehyung, I promise I’ll be back! I won’t leave you again! When you open your eyes for winter to come again, then I’ll be there to wake you up. And...even if I’m long gone, then I’ll make sure that you’ll never, ever, have to be alone,” You reach your hand out, extending your pinkie. “I promise.”

With one last look in your eyes, he saw hope. Over a hundred years later, he saw light at the end of the cave, that maybe one day, the curse that had been laid upon him will become a blessing. Maybe this time, he can see someone precious again without taking their life. Even if you don’t fulfill your side to the promise, just the facade of hope is enough to make him look forward to next winter.

Within a blink of an eye, he reaches over and wraps his pinky around yours. He’s so thankful that he’s crying uncontrollably.

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

And with one swift move, the children’s spirits pull you out of the cave, separating you from him. Before you close your eyes, you could’ve sworn that you saw Taehyung in his child form, eating the candy that you gave him.

———

You regain consciousness after feeling someone shaking your shoulders. The first person you see is Suniya, bawling like a baby. When you opened your eyes, she froze, not sure about what to do next.

“Sun...Suniya?”

“Oh, thank god!” She hugs you tightly. “I was so scared that we lost you.”

You’re still in the woods. Though, the snow is beginning to melt and the sun is blaring down on your face. You look around to find all the townspeople surrounding you, including Kim.

“Jesus Christ, you gave all of us a fright, girl.” Margaret wipes her tears with her sleeve. “Goin’ out during the middle of a brutal blizzard. Are you insane?”

You look down at your hands, and they’re not trembling anymore. “I guess I am.”

It felt like a dream. In fact, every second you spent with Taehyung felt like a dream because of how fast time flew by. What you experienced in the cave, you don’t know if it actually happened.

You turn around, seeing that the cave is hollow. It’s a lot smaller than what you last remembered. The entrance is like a black hole, but it isn’t empty. But what’s better is that you don’t hear children crying anymore. You look back at the crowd, glancing at Kim who’s crossing her arms. One look and she knew that you overcame your trauma.

Suniya helps you up, putting your arm around her neck. Though your body is fine, your muscles feel weak.

“Come on, let’s go back and get you warmed up.”

“What the hell were you doin’ here, by the way?” Margaret asks.

“There’s just something that I needed to do...and I’m not done with it yet.”

[The End]

———

EPILOGUE

“Alright, next, I’m going to teach you how to make a campfire.”

You are standing in a circle around a bunch of kids. They’re wearing thick jackets with badges on them and have dark green hats with the symbol of a brown bear over a snowflake over them. They’re hugging their arms, shivering to the old.

“Do we have to make one now?”

“It’s too cold to do anything, Miss.”

“Can’t we just learn it back at the cabin?”

You shake your head. “The whole reason to make a campfire is to build it outside. Not only is the fire meant to keep you warm, but it also helps cook food and used as a light source.”

You grab some branches from the ground, wiping the snow off of it.

“You see how wet it is? It won’t make a good fire. It’s going to be difficult, but you need to find dry wood like this.”

You compare and contrast between the two, kicking snow off of the ground until you see dirt. You place the wood, taking out two rocks and creating friction to spark them. And just like that, you’re able to create fire. The kids stand around your campfire, awing at it as the flames rise.

However...the flames go out within seconds. “Oh…”

The children laugh. “What was that?”

“That was terrible!”

“Hold on, just give me one second…” You grab the wood to make a second attempt. “I swear it worked the first time.”

“Miss (Y/N), why are we camping during winter? Doesn’t girl scout camps happen during summer?”

“Yea! All my friends go during summer. My parents kept saying that this camp saves more money...but it’s unfair.”

“Well...let me tell you something. They can teach you all the methods of surviving during the summer, but almost every tip is thrown out the window when it’s snowing. I have a friend who used to be your age and didn’t know how to survive on his own in the winter. His mother abandoned him a long time ago and no one wanted to take care of him. So he was on his own.”

This gathers the attention of all the girls, so they surround you as you continue the story.

“He was starving and cold because he didn’t know the basics of survival, like making a campfire. He didn’t know how to fish nor did he know how to build a tent.”

“I hope she went to jail for abandoning her own child.”

“Why would his mother leave him?? That’s so messed up.”

“Sometimes, it’s not because they want to, but because they can’t. We’ll never fully know why she left him, but I think she did love him.”

“What? I think she hated him.”

“Because before she left him, she told him that he’s a strong boy. Maybe she left him because she knew that he'd survive. Of course, this is by no means a good method of parenting, but she had faith in her own son that he’ll make it through the winter.”

“I don’t think she cared about him,” one of the girl scouts crosses her arms. “Couldn’t he go to the police for help? They’re always there to help him find his home!”

“Yea, but it wasn’t that simple. You see, he was considered as...different, I guess you could say. People many years ago thought completely opposite from us, so no one wanted to help him.”

“Is he still alive?”

You fall silent, and this builds anticipation for your response. They draw closer to you, unable to handle the suspense.

“He’s still alive.”

They sigh in relief.

“Do you girls want to meet him?”

“Wait, can we??”

You nod. “He’s a little shy at first, but he’s super friendly.”

“How does he look like??”

“Hmm...he’s super tall,” you raise your arms up in the air. “And he has broad shoulders. His hair is so curly that it almost looks like cotton candy. He also has a mole under his nose and the most charming smile anybody has ever seen.”

You stare at the sky with dreamy eyes, and that’s when the girls understood the subtle hints. They elbow each other, giggling and covering their mouths.

But you’re clueless. “What’s so funny?”

“Do you have a crush on him, Miss (Y/N)?”

Your cheeks turn red, and they squeal with excitement. You press your knuckles on your lips as you become more flustered.

“Keep it a secret, but he’s my boyfriend.”

They scream, stunned that their leader has someone in her heart. You shush them, worried that their voices would disrupt the town’s peace.

“Di-did you guys do things...like kissing??” One girl whispers.

You nod, and they hide their screams behind their covered mouths. Then, you rub your stomach, feeling a lump. “Pretty soon, we’re gonna be a family.”

The girls have no idea what you meant, but they’re not at the age to learn about that yet.

“He’s the most important person in the entire world to me. He sleeps a lot, so I don’t get to see him that often, so every second I have with him matters until I get too old. Because of that, he’s afraid that one day when he opens his eyes, I won’t be there anymore. So, even if I’m gone, he’ll have enough friends that he won’t ever have to feel alone anymore.”

From behind a dead tree, you can see Taehyung hiding behind it. You snicker, certainly knowing that he heard the entire conversation. He’s probably trying to fight back his tears. Every time you visit him during winter, he would sob and express about how much he doesn’t deserve you. But since he went through decades of suffering, this is the least you can do to ease it.

You raise your head, pointing your direction to him. “Taehyung, would you like to sit with us?”

He peers his head over the tree, holding the bark gently while staring at the ground. He raises his eyes, trying his hardest to hide his smile.

“...Thank you.”

[End]

A/N: Thank you for everyone who read this, especially considering how long it is lol. I wanted to get this out during winter, but it took longer than expected ha ha. I hope you guys are all safe and healthy!! Don’t be afraid to leave any comments :) Have a beautiful day. ^^

Masterlist

#bts scenarios #bangtan scenarios #bts #bts imagines #bangtan seonyeondan #bangtan #v #bts v #v x reader #bts fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #fluff #bts fluff #long reads #angst #x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #fantasy #romance #slow burn #kpop

[logan-is-noggin]

Bullies

Summary: peter finds out how Caspian stark deals with her bullies

word count: 2948

warning: self harm

Caspian walked along the side of the hallway, trying to get to their third-period class without any problems. But of course, Cass couldn't catch a break cause three seniors come barreling by, one shouts " hey it's Casper the ugly ghost!" While the other two push them into the row of lockers causing them to fall and spill their books. they groan and glare as the group makes their getaway, laughing as they go. Peter Parker rushes to their side from down the hall " class, are you okay?" He hands them what part of their books and folders he picked up. they sigh and takes them from the boy. Peter's their only friend at this school, and mostly because they both work with the avengers. Peter is secretly Spider-man. But of course, Caspian would never reveal his identity to anyone here. And Caspian was the child of iron man himself. Well adopted child." you should tell a teacher or someone if people are bullying you, Cass." " you sound like you're seven, Parker" they sigh " and that would only succeed at making them worse. Besides, after putting up with them all year, I'm used to it," they say as they walk away.

(Peter pov)

' all year?' Peter wondered. ' Why haven't they said anything? Even to Tony or one of the others.' Peter kind of knew what Cass was going through, several kids got bullied at school by the older kids, but for some reason, they got it worse from that group. probably just jealousy. Peter also noticed that cass only wore long sleeves or sweaters most of the year. Normally it wouldn't phase anyone but with it being almost June, he wondered how they didn't pass out from heatstroke.

(No pov)

Cass didn't see Peter again until lunch. The two usually sat together with his friends mj and Ned. But both were out sick today so it was just them two.Peter sat down with his lunch and greeted cass. they didn't look much happier from the last time they spoke. He commented on how warm it was in classes and Cass only shrugged " I get cold easy so just want to make sure I'm prepared." As they ate, Peter kept looking at their blue shirt sleeve. He noticed a dark stain by the end of the wrist. He figured it wasn't sauce or ketchup cause they adamantly despised all things made with tomato. That made him even more worried." hey Cass, what's that on your sleeve? It looks like blood. Are you okay? Did someone hurt you again?" He asked in his usual fast manner. Cass's eyes widened in shock for a brief moment before they denied it. " it's nothing, don't worry about it." they picked up their tray, with their barely touched lunch, and told him they'd see him in history.

Caspian sat down at their desk next to Peters in class. The bell rang as the last of the students floated in. Their teacher started passing out their tests and told them to begin.Peter was just finishing his test and then grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and quickly wrote " Cass, I think you really need to talk to someone. I don't want you to get hurt more." He folded it up and slid it onto Cass's desk. they unfolded it and read it. they turned to Peter and harshly whispered " stay out of it!" The teacher called their name and they both looked forward. " Caspian, you know the rules about note-passing in class." Instead of confiscation, Mr Conner thought public embarrassment was a better deterrent, so he made anyone caught with a note, stand and read it. Cass stood and looked back down at Peter who looked like he regretted his actions. " Cass, help. what are the answers to question 8 and 9, "Cass looked again to Peter who was now confused and looking panicked." Peter, detention after school." Cass smirked as they sat down and slipped the note in their pocket.

When the bell rang after class, cass walked by Peter who was glaring at them with his head on the desk." I told you to stay out of my business. I'll let Tony know you'll be late." Then left.Caspian was happy that they delayed Peter from going to Tony about his "concerns". At least for a while. they had been so careful about keeping their secret. them and Peter had patrol an hour after school most days. With any luck, Peter would make it to the tower just after they left. they dropped their backpack in a chair at the kitchen island as they grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Natasha and Bruce were in his lab looking over some equations and waved to cass when they passed, they waved back. Tony and Steve came up the stairs, presumably from Tony's lab, where he spent most of his downtime. " hey cass, where's the other kid? Did he stop at home before coming for patrol?" they faked a look of pity. " Peter might be late today, he got detention." Both Tony and Steve looked shocked. " what? How?" "He got caught trying to pass me a note asking for some answers to our history test." Tony frowned. " you didn't give them to him did you mx.?" they shook their head " course not. peter and I studied for it together, I thought he was just kidding around. I mean he has a better grade in history than me anyway." tony was still in thought " well, I'll be sure to have a word with him when he gets here." Playing the innocent card, cass picked up their bag and slung it over their shoulder. " I'm gonna get some of my homework out of the way before my run." Tony gave them a quick hug and a nod. Steve's eyes followed Caspian out of the room in suspicion.

(Cpov)

Cassie dropped the bag at their feet the second the door closed. they pulled their hoodie off and went into the connected bathroom. Inside the medicine cabinet, they took out a small metal tin that they hid behind a bar of soap. they opened it and pulled out one of several blades.

(10 minutes later)

Peter swung into stark tower through an open window in his spider-man uniform and took off his mask. He was breathing heavily since he was rushing to get back once he was released from detention. Tony and Steve were standing in the kitchen, Tony still looked mad when he saw Peter, Steve simply looked disappointed and confused. Peter held his hands out in surrender. " I know this looks bad, but you have to let me explain." Tony crossed his arms. " okay, you have thirty seconds to tell me why you would try to get Caspian in trouble." Peters gaze went from Tony to Bruce, and Nat in the lab then back. " actually could we go somewhere private?"

(Cpov)

Cassie held a wad of stained toilet paper on their forearm. their eyes were closed and they leaned back on the wall. When they lift the tissue most of the heavy bleeding has stopped. they flushed the stained paper (best way not to leave behind evidence) and rolled the sleeve down. Now feeling able to breathe, they sits in bed and starts their homework.

(No pov)

Tony, Steve and Peter made their way down to the lab. Then Peter started to explain. " i didn't try to cheat. and i wasn't trying to get cass in trouble either! I was already done with the test when I gave cass the note." "Then why would they say you did?" Steve asked" cause when Mr Conner catches someone passing notes he makes us read them out loud. they probably wanted to keep what I wrote to them a secret." "And what did you write to her?" Tony asked losing patience.Quoting what he wrote, Peter said. " you need to tell someone what happened. I don't want to see you getting hurt more." He blinked quickly to keep tears from forming. Again both men were taken back. But Peter didn't wait for them to ask " I saw them get bullied this morning, they admitted it'd been happening all year. they also told me not to say anything when i told them to go to a teacher or the principal.and Then at lunch..." "Don't you dare stop talking now kid" Tony warned. " I think Cass is hurting themselves, like on purpose. I thought I saw dried blood on their sleeve, I asked about it and they took off."

Tony sank into the closest chair, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.Steve looked at Tony. Then at Peter."If you don't believe me, go ask them for the note. they put it in their pocket. they probably still have it."Steve knew Tony wouldn't be getting up soon, he was still in shock and would be too emotional if he tried to talk to them. " I'll go talk to cass. Peter, go ask Nat if she'd mind filling in with you for patrol. but don't say why, we don't need to worry the team till we know the truth." He nodded and ran up the steps. Steve was about to leave as well when Tony grabbed his wrist. He turned back. Tony was never an emotional guy. So to see him near tears was hard for him " it's gonna be okay." He assured as he raced up the steps.

(Cpov)

There was a knock on the door, Caspian answered and Steve opened the door, taking a step inside. " is Peter here? I'll get ready to go." they said getting up from the bed. "Actually Tony already sent him out with Nat."" why? I thought it was my shift.""I actually wanted to talk to you about something."' here we go' they thought while they slowly sank back into the bed "oh. Okay, what's up?"Steve shut the door and sat next to them on the edge of the bed. " is everything going okay at school?" they had grabbed their pillow when he sat down and hid their arms under it."its high school. not the best way to spend my day, but its fine," Peter said some kids are bullying you?"Cass shrugged " kind of, but tons of kids get bullied in high school." " He said you get punched and thrown into lockers. Does that happen to everybody?" they winced remembering that they were still sore from this morning's beating. " it's not a big deal. I can handle it" there was a pause. Cass saw the worry on Steve's face. " Caspian, how, are you handling it?"

"What do you mean?" they gripped the pillow nervously. " peter also told us he thinks you're hurting yourself."Cass frowned " and what does he know," "The kid has heightened senses Cass. And he said he saw blood on your shirt sleeve."At this point, Caspian wouldn't look at cap. their knuckles started to burn as they held fist fulls of the pillow. He tried to make them release the pillow but they flinched from his touch. " i’m not going to hurt you." he whispered. they let go of the pillow and he placed it to the side.Again he placed his hand on theirs. they didn't move but didn't stop him when he turned their arm over and moved the sleeve up. Knowing he was looking at their arm full of scars and bruises. The ones on that arm were fairly older. " can I see the other one?" they pulled their hand out from under them and they both noticed the blood left had seeped through the fabric. they glanced at Steve but Immediately regretted it. they knew he wasn't happy.

He went and grabbed more toilet paper from the bathroom and then slowly peeled the sleeve out of the way. The wound started to bleed again and he pressed the paper to it. " hold it and wait here, I'm gonna go get the first aid kit." they obeyed as he ran out of the room and was back in seconds. they were relieved but confused that he didn't ask why they cut their arms up. All he asked was when the last time they did.. " after I came home and came in here." they admitted quietly. He finished wrapping her arm in gauze, taping it in place." He should have minded his own business." they whispered." well I'm glad he didn't. Or else we could be dealing with something worse than this. You should have come told us however long ago when this started. No one would have been mad at you." "But now you are." they asked " I'm only upset that you lied to us and got Peter in trouble when he was only trying to help you." " and Tony? Where's he?"" I left him in his lab, he was really hurt when peter told him." they winced again. " I think you need to go talk to him about this." they shook their head "why not?"" you might not be yelling at me but he will.""You don't know that." Steve said " yes I do. That's what Tony does. He yells, he throws stuff around when hes mad.even if he says he's not mad at me," " he's your father, he's just looking out for you. And I promise, you'll feel better once you two talk." "I'll think about it." they say grimly. Cap nods and stands to leave.

Once he closes the door, Caspian hugs their pillow tightly. A few tears fell on the white case. they wiped them away and stood up. they Straightened their bed and papers that had gotten shuffled around during their talk with cap then walked over to the window and pushed it open. they grabbed a rung of the metal ladder that was next to their room and swung out catching it with their other hand and climbed to the roof. Caspian liked being up there alone, it was easier to breathe, no razor required, and think up here. they sat close to the edge, though their feet weren't over the edge. The sun was just beginning it's path to setting but it would still be in the sky when Peter returned.A half hour later, Caspian spotted a familiar red dot swinging from building to building getting closer to home each time.

When he was half a block away he must have noticed them on top of stark tower and almost slammed into the side of the building. Instead his fingers stuck to the glass and he crawled the rest of the way up until he hopped over the edge. His mask came down and he looked even more worried than he was this morning. "Please don't do it Cass." He begged. they rolled their eyes and turned to face him." I'm sorry I told them but they needed to know. I should go get Tony?" He spattered quickly. Cass sighed, crossing their arms." calm down spider-man, I wasn't gonna kill myself. But if you try to involve my dad I might jump." " Then why are you on the roof?" He asked confused." cause I needed to get your attention. I wanted to apologize. I'm sorry for getting you in trouble." He closed the distance to hug them. " I'm just glad your okay Cass." they hugged him tighter " but I'm not." they said when they let go. Peter kept hold of her hands and led them closer to the middle of the roof, mostly to make him feel more at ease. " I've been on my own for so long I've always had to learn how to deal with things on my own. I guess old habits are hard to break."" I get it. But you don't have to anymore. You got me, and Mr. Stark, and cap and all the avengers behind you. We're your family." they leaned her head on his shoulder in another hug, " I know."Suddenly, a blur of red and gold shot up as Tony landed on the roof, his helmet folded down. Cass's breath caught in her throat as he got closer. they could see the leftover pain in his eyes. " Friday notified me that you were on the roof, you can guess I got worried." Peter tried to reassure him that I was okay."" I wanted to talk to Peter as soon as he got back. To apologize for what happened." His shoulders of his suit fell in relief. " well you two should get back inside, it's getting dark." "And Cass, we need to talk when you get inside" they nodded and watched him fly back down.They took the stairs down and were soon in the living room, the small group of heroes going about their separate activities. Caspian caught their father watching them and followed him down into the lab. both Tony and Caspian weren't too much for expressing feelings. So when they had heart to metal heart talks, Tony tried to lessen the feelings part by them working on his projects together. It worked for the most part. They were down there for hours. they shared their side of the very long story and talked Tony down from flying over to the school threatening to "deal" with their bullies. " just do one thing for me then," he asked. " Please come to me if you ever feel that way again. No matter what I'm doing. I want to be there for you." He wrapped his arms around them and they let themselves be held.

#peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #domestic avengers #y/n

[theimnotokayprojekt]

The I’m Not Okay Projekt Chapter 2

AO3  Wattpad  Quotev

Mikey moves to walk on the right side of Frank after they leave Mr. McGill’s classroom. “You know, asking questions isn’t a bad thing,” he starts, glancing at Frank. “Finding things out doesn’t make you less than who you are.”

Frank doesn’t respond verbally. He nods and looks down at the pink belt he’s wearing. Pink. Why pink? He shouldn't have forgotten his own belt at home. It wasn’t as though he would get in trouble for it, since it was technically a belt. It was practically screaming “Fag!”.

Frank pulls his arm out of Mikey’s and fumbles open the clasp of the belt, just wanting the flaming neon sign to disappear. He wants it gone. He can’t, he can’t . . .

“Frank? What are you doing?”

It’s Mikey. “Nothing, I’m just taking off my belt. I don’t need it.”

Even with Frank clearly holding the much too large waistband of his pants, Mikey didn’t say anything. He just kept walking at Frank’s side. He unclasps it and practically rips it out of the loops and shoves it deep into his bag before going towards the lunch line. He stands at the end, Mikey next to him, when Gerard appears through the ocean of teenagers.

“Hey can I join you?” he asks.

Frank shuffles to the side. “Yeah, sure.”

Mikey stands slightly on his tip-toes and peers of the sea of students. “Dammit, Gerard. You left Ray alone.” In his mind, it would be more practical for two groups of two people to be apart so everyone had someone and no one was left alone. He wiggles out of the line in the direction of the table Ray sits at awkwardly.

He sits down on Ray’s right, pulling out the little sack of food he kept in his bag.

“Um, hi,” Ray half-laughs, fiddling his thumbs under the table.

Mikey smiles awkwardly. “Hi.”

He opens up the bag and takes out a cheddar cheese sandwich cut in half vertically. Taking the right half, he takes a careful bite and looks back at the lunch line to see if he can find Gerard and Frank. Nothing. Swallowing, he takes a deep breath and prepares to break the silence.

“So, um,” he starts out quietly, “did you understand the whole ‘sexual attraction’ thing?”

Apparently Ray hadn’t been expecting a conversation since his head whips around wildly in search of who Mikey could possibly be talking too. “Oh, uh, not really, if I’m being honest… Is that weird?”

Mikey’s hand finds his inhaler and rubs it three times. “I… I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“It’s probably because I’m young,” he stumbles quickly. “Did- Did you understand it?”

Mikey shakes his head and looks at his hands. “Do you think there- there’s something wrong? With us? With me?” he whispers.

It’s weird since Ray is very particular with physical touch, but he wants to squeeze Mikey in a bear hug. “I- I don’t know… Everyone tells me I should, like, find some girl and fall in love right away. But… I feel like I can’t.” He squishes his mouth to one side of his face and his mind floods with images of pushy uncles and dramatic aunts. It’s not something he realizes he’s doing, but he starts absent-mindedly twisting his skin.

Mikey looks at Ray, trying to send across that he understands, to some extent, but the words won’t come out. He fixes his glasses, mind racing to figure out what to say, what to do. 

“It’s just a weird thought… like, how do people, like, do that?” is all Ray can say, his windpipe feeling like it’s closing up.

“I don’t know,” Mikey says finally. “But, it’s nice to not be confused alone. Y’know?”

Then it’s like he can breathe again. “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence falls between the two, a sense of understanding and connection flowing between them. Mikey slowly eats his sandwich and Ray sits quietly beside him, picking at his nails.

Meanwhile, in the lunch line, Frank and Gerard stand next to each other, waiting to get their spaghetti and pizza respectively.

Frank looks up at Gerard. “So, you and Mikey are twins? Isn’t that, like, super rare or something?”

Gerard does his common comical blinking act. “Um, no. We aren’t twins. I, uh, I was actually held back…” His face flushes red and he tugs at some stray locks of hair, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Frank apologizes quickly. “I didn’t mean, I just thought, sorry. That was stupid of me.” 

Gerard just shakes his head as he waves his hand. “No, no it’s fine. I just, uh, y’know, don’t like to talk about it.”

Frank nods. “I get that.” He glances down at Gerard’s bag, which has a ton of buttons pinned on. “Dude, where’d you get these?”

He follows Frank’s gaze to find his pin-cluttered bag, the original pattern lost under the coat of art. “I made them. Not all of them are super great,” he sighs, unclasping a slightly smudged pin with a jack-o-lantern. “This was one of my first tries. It’s not that good,” he laughs.

Frank looks at the pin with wide eyes. If he was animated, they would probably be sparkling with excitement. “That’s so rad! Y’know, when I’m old enough, I’m gonna get a tattoo like this. ‘Cause I like tattoos and Halloween. I mean, that’s my birthday and all, but like, the jack-o-lanterns are one of the coolest parts. And the costumes.” 

“Whoa, dude, that’s so cool! Like, out of all the days in the year, you got yours on Halloween! The chance of that happening is, like…” he trails off, looking down at his dress shoes.

Frank looks at the pin in Gerard’s hand. “I don’t know, small? Fractions aren’t my strong suit. Do you, um, could you make me one of those?” he points to the pin.

“Oh, you can have this one. I’ll make you more, but I just need to focus on school…”

Frank nods, taking it gently and slipping it into his pocket. He looks forwards, seeing that they made it to the front of the line and takes a plate of spaghetti without any tomato meat sauce, while Gerard takes a slice of pepperoni pizza. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Gerard would absolutely love to unload all of his issues with math and science, but he finds stuffing his face with pizza far more appealing, so he walks beside Frank to the rickety lunch table in the back of the cafeteria. There Mikey and Ray sit, doing absolutely nothing.

“Did you guys talk at all?”

The two share a look and Ray looks over at Gerard with a wide smile. “Yeah, a bit. I still want to see your drawings!”

Gerard looks around at the three of them, all eagerly looking at him. “Uh, okay,” he mumbles. He slips out his large sketchbook and sets it on the table. He’s all of the sudden acutely aware of the entire student body around them. “Could we, uh, look at these outside?”

Ray looks at Frank, who shrugs. “Well, Frank and I sometimes went to this small part of the field right outside of the football stuff. It has a nice tree.”

Mikey easily gathers up his long-finished food and stands up, with Ray following suit. Frank scoops up the sketchbook and leads the way to their old spot. The halls are oddly barren for a high school. Frank and Ray lead the brothers outside a set of double doors to a large grassy field.

In the corner is a large oak tree, where the group heads over to sit in its shade. Frank takes out Gerard’s sketchbook and eagerly awaits to see the contents. He quickly peels it open and is met with sloppy sketches and mysterious food stains.

They’re quite good if Frank can even think that, seeing as he can draw just about a stick figure and that’s it. The lines aren’t uniform, but it somehow adds to the charm. Harsh shadows and angled features somehow give it a more authentic feel, rather than rounded out cartoons. Little bits of information about clothing or the characters’ bodies are in a messy scrawl near the spot it’s referring to.

He flips through a few of the pages to find most of them are like that; half thought-out characters with random, on-the-spot backstories.

Ray peers at the scrawled and scribbled on pages. “Gerard, this is so good!” He turns to Gerard, who is smiling bashfully.

“It’s really nothing-” he’s cut off by a look given by Mikey over his glasses. When Gerard has stopped, Mikey grins, showing his teeth, and looks back at the page.

Frank, being the one in charge of maneuvering through the book, turns the page and is met by a full-body sketch of two men dancing closely against one another, looking as though they’re leaning in for a kiss. He looks at every line with more interest than he should. Why can’t he look away? Why is he so interested in this one drawing? It’s not like he can . . . envision himself like that. No, he’s not gay.

Everyone stares at the drawing. The air surrounding the four is still and quiet, yet somehow charged and vibrating. No one dares look away, if out of fear of seeing someone or making eye contact, it’s unsure.

Then, as the tension becomes too much, Gerard snatches the book out of Frank’s loosened grip. “That- That was just…”

“Hey, Gerard, it’s fine,” Ray quickly assures, waving his hands.

Before the silence can stretch on, there’s the sound of someone walking up to them from the left. They turn and see Samantha walking up to the group. She stops as soon as she realizes four people are looking at her in surprise.

“Hey, Mikey.” She waves with a grin as she sees the bespectacled boy.

Mikey waves back, though less cheerily. “Hi.”

“Why did you say hi to Mikey and not me and Ray? We’re in your chemistry class!” Frank whines, flopping back on the grass.

Gerard looks at Samantha and then the three others next to him. “Who is she?” he asks Mikey. “How do you know each other?”

“Advanced English,” Mikey states simply.

Samantha doesn’t seem to notice the lingering stare the two brothers share as they silently communicate since she clears her throat. “Um, I just wanted to tell you I think the music room is free this period. I think they have a bass… an electric bass,” she clarifies at Mikey’s unamused expression.

Mikey’s head whips around to look at Samantha with wide eyes. “Really?! You’re not joking?!”

“I think it’s for the band, but they keep the instruments in there.” She shrugs, acting as though it isn’t a big deal, despite Mikey thinking it is.

“Oh, that’s so grea- gr- that’s so awesome!”

“We could go now if you want,” she suggests nonchalantly.

“Are there guitars?” Ray finds the courage to ask.

Samantha glances over at Ray like she hadn’t realized he was there. “Oh, um, I think so.”

Ray beams at her, unaware of her shifty gaze. Like Ray, Frank smiles up at her too. “Let’s go!”

She stiffly nods and holds a hand out for Mikey to take, but he ignores it and stands up on his own, not using his hands at all. Gerard follows suit, then Frank and Ray. Samantha leads them through the barren halls and up a couple of flights of stairs, considerably slower for Mikey’s sake until they reach the music room.

Mikey rushes to the front of the group and opens the door, scanning the room until he spots the electric bass in the corner. He beelines for it, hands hovering over it as if it were a holy relic. Ray busies himself with turning on the amp as Mikey delicately slings the bass across his chest, feeling the familiar weight of it. His fingers slide across the metal strings, and he closes his eyes and puts his hands in place. 

He starts to strum a simple bass line, feeling the vibrations of the bass and strings with his hands, the sound ring through his chest. His palms buzzed with a comfortable life pulsing through that reaches all the way down to his feet.

A teacher looks up from their desk, eyes magnified by their thick glasses. “Samantha, who are these people?”

Samantha looks over to the music teacher, tearing her gaze away from Mikey. “They’re my friends, Mx. Kloppenburg. I think two of them can play an instrument so I brought them here.”

They look over Mikey, completely lost in his own world, and nods approvingly. “I can see that.”

While Samantha and the teacher are chatting about her violin playing and Frank ogles over a shiny red electric guitar, Gerard looks over at ray. He finds Ray already looking at him. “Mx.?” Gerard mouths in confusion. 

Ray furrows his brow and shrugs slightly in response. “No idea.”

“Ray?” Frank pipes up. “Do you think you could teach me to play T.V. Party?

Ray looks at his friend. “Dude, of course!” He smiles widely.

“I wanna see you play first. I thought the guitar in your house was your dad’s, so I didn’t think you played.”

Ray shifts a little. “It, uh, was my sister’s.” Before Frank can respond he starts to play some riffs.

His fingers slither up and down the neck, while his other hand is strumming a simple pattern, but the array of chords make it sound much more complicated than he makes it. Frank watches in awe at the skill Ray shows.

“D’you think that I could do that? With enough practice?” Frank asks, and Ray nods, but otherwise continues to focus on his playing.

During this, Samantha had wandered back over to Mikey. Having overheard Frank and Ray, she looks at Mikey. “Could you help me get better at bass?” she asks.

Mikey doesn’t respond. He starts to play a riff, caught up in the feeling of finally having a bass in his hands again. Ray, hearing Mikey play, starts to play over top of the bass line. The strings blur on Ray’s guitar while Mikey’s hands slide up and down the neck like it’s covered in grease.

At the notice of a new addition, Mikey breaks out of his bubble and beams at Ray, who’s smiling like a wild man right back at him. The more they play, the more in sync they get. Frank, Samantha, and Gerard watch the pair play, listening only to the other’s instrument.

Samantha shifts around slightly. “So, Mikey, where did you learn to play?” she asks, but Mikey doesn’t seem to register that someone is speaking to him.

Right then, Ray’s hand slides up to the top of the neck, letting one long booming note ring out. Mikey looks over with an approving beam and proceeds to give the solo of his life. It’s full of energy, unlike Mikey himself. He puts all of his strength and heart into it. His hands move up and down the strings like fire, low notes filling the room, and thrumming through his body. As he finishes and the adrenaline of playing starts to wear off, Mikey hears Ray start to play a solo of his own.

It’s a sight that makes him feel like he’s intruding on something, but at the same time can’t bring himself to look away. Ray’s thumb strums at an impeccable pace, making it look effortless after years of practice. His eyes flutter shut at some point, getting lost in the feel and the rhythm. He’s on his own, locked away in his own mind, ignoring the world around him. Both hands are moving at an incredible speed, it’s as graceful a ballerina, but just as wild as a raging hurricane.

Ray’s hair brushes around his neck and shoulders with each brash head turn. The part of his lips grows wider as he exerts more energy. He grows increasingly powerful like it’s the guitar that gives him his life source. Mikey watches as his fingers fly across the frets, his hair flies about, the way his eyes are closed the entire time. Mikey wishes he could see more. He wants to listen to Ray playing his guitar all the time.

“Hey, lunch is finishing soon. We should stop and pack up,” Samantha interrupts, causing Ray to suddenly stop his playing. Mikey barely holds back the sudden need to snarl at her.

“Yeah, sure,” Ray says with a soft smile, adjusting back to the room. He sets the guitar delicately back onto the stand like it’s a priceless gem. Mikey takes the bass back to its respective stand and gently puts it back, longing to have played longer.

Once everything remotely expensive is out of harm’s way, Frank jumps onto Ray, causing him to stumble back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were that good!? You should play guitar, like, all the time!”

It’s clear Ray wasn’t expecting any compliments, so he just awkwardly laughs. “Um, I didn’t think it was anything special.”

“But, you guys did that on the spot. That’s pretty awesome,” Gerard admits, half smiling at Mikey. Mikey blinks back, wondering why Gerard is looking at him.

“You were great Mikey!” Samantha says, closer to Mikey than he remembers.

“Uh, thank you,” he mumbles, stepping away slightly. “Ray, you, um, you were really, uh, good,” he stutters, avoiding looking at Ray all together.

“Thanks,” Ray responds quietly as he finishes packing his backpack.

“Before you go,” a voice pipes up, it’s Mx. Kloppenburg, risen from their chair. “The staff and I are going to be planning the talent show to be sometime in December. I think you two could get in if you tried out.”

Mikey shakes his head, holding his glasses with the tips of his fingers. “No, I- I can’t p- per… play in front of everyone. Sorry.”

Mx. Kloppenburg smiles. “No, it’s fine,” they assure before turning to Ray. “Would you be interested?”

“Maybe…” Ray admits, raking his bitten nails up and down the arm of his blazer.

Mx. Kloppenburg nods. “Well, if you ever want to practice, the music room is open at lunch and before and after school. You can use the guitars here too if you need them,” they assure. 

Ray is about to assure them he won’t be needing any guitars since he has an acoustic at his home when Frank takes the opportunity instead. “Can you play?”

They smile sweetly at him and laugh. “Yeah, I had to learn a bit of everything in college.”

“Could you teach me then?!” Frank practically yells.

Mx. Kloppenburg flips through a few sheets on their desk before looking back at him. “Are you in my music class?”

“Um, no, I, um… I’m taking language and computer science,” he mumbles.

“What’s your name?”

“Frank. Uh, Frank Iero.”

“Well, if you’re free on Tuesdays after school, I could fit you in for about half an hour,” they say, sifting through more papers cluttered on the desk.

Frank nods. “Um, yeah, that should, uh, that should work.” He’s clearly more nervous than before, but no one says anything about it.

“Alright.” Mx. Kloppenburg looks at Frank. “See you Tuesday,” they confirm with a smile. The bell rings signaling the end of lunch.

“Where are you guys headed?” Frank asks as they all leave the classroom.

“Math,” Mikey deadpans and he walks to the staircase of death.

“Oh, I’m headed downstairs too. Biology.” Samantha smiles.

“So am I!” Frank bounces over to Mikey. Samantha follows them down the staircase and Ray and Gerard are left alone.

Ray looks over at Gerard with his lip squished to one side of his face, realizing he’s never been alone with him before. “Where are you going?”

Gerard thinks for a moment. “Cooking, I think. You?”

“Oh.” Ray blinks. “So am I.”

Gerard nods. “Cool, cool. So, uh, should we walk there?”

“Sure…” is all he can come up with.

The two walk side by side through the halls in search of the classroom in relative silence, just absorbing one another’s presence.

#the im not okay projekt #tinop

[blankdblank]

My Pearl Pt 15

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 -

Books. Every time you turned around you seemed to be hounded by them. Finally Irime had gotten the final copy detailed to how you all agreed and Fëanor had helped to perfect the descriptions of each marking him as a co-author. They were branded as your recipes with a professional’s review on each making the book all the more interesting to readers when the first few sample pages were released and his comments on how appalling it all looked compared to how it tasted hypes the dishes up even more.

Officially you had been Thorin’s partner for five months now since your verbal flub and together your cooking teams had turned the Dwarven dining experience on its ear with how the Stone had blended. Now regulars were sampling from both menus same as the newcomers who some had even been steered away from your dish they had aches to try for a more appealing Dwarven classic, and everyone seemed to love everything about the change. Your spots on the weekly shows had brought on more fan mail and amped up the competitions between your rivaling teams making the fans love it even more.

This week however, after your last week where you sluggishly made it through your shift at the Stone, a much needed vacation was scored for you. Thorin would have to work through most of your first week but then he had plans to let you rest up those days and hoped the trip you could take would help to shake your weariness off you. They all had their own slumps that’s why every few months they set up vacation times for each of the team on rotations to prevent anyone from overworking themselves. It was advertised as usual and no complaints were had.

.

“How did you do that?” Thorin hummed smoothing up against your back with hands easing around your hips. It had been a week at least since he’d been able to hungrily pin you down as he used to with the bustle of the new changes to the Stone and your traveling for your book to come out.

“Cook with my eyes closed?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed ghosting his lips across the side of your neck aching to carry you to bed but knowing you needed your rest. So cuddling and holding you close was what he could do as even in your sleep somehow his once comforting warmth had you burning up and sliding away to cool down. You were pushing to hard, they were all pushing you too hard, it was too much to soon and he tried to ease the burden on you only to see your body slump in moments you thought oh were alone aching for relief from something he could not verbalize or was too afraid to. “How ever did you learn that?”

Weakly you giggled and raised a hand turned your head to kiss his forehead revealing your temperature spiking again in his nearness. In his readying to pull back you said, “Culinary school. Eleven ones at least, though my gran had already taught me when I was little so it didn’t take me long.”

Playfully he asked in the smoothing if your hands over his arms in a sigh to stay, “Why would they teach you that?”

“So you can taste the food without eating it.”

“Really?”

With a nod you turned in his arms saying, “I can show you if you like.”

After a low chuckle he shook his head, “I would rather not risk a fire.”

In the smoothing of your hands up his chest he inhaled deeply locking his eyes on yours, “Please? Try it for me?” Again he exhaled in the stroke of your fingers around the name of his neck almost bringing a lustful growl from him, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Just this once.” With a smirk you stepped away sliding your hand across his chest in a quick walk to your room leaving him there only to return with a sleeping mask making him roll his eyes in your sliding it in over his face. And in Khuzdul you purred by his ear, “Let me touch you in the most intimate place possible,” inhaling sharply at how deeply your hint of a growl in your timid mastering of his tongue after months of practice he remained focused then smirked at your adding, “In your kitchen.”

One by one you showed him through where the ingredients were and the feel and smell of them all. Touching him just enough to let him know you were still there, easing your hands on and off of his to adjust them when needed but letting his muscle memory handle the rest.

“Now, slice the ginger.” His head turned and you folded your hand over the back of his, he would have felt ridiculous if he didn’t feel so damn connected to you and lulled into a calm state by the sound of your voice. “Your knife is here, you know how to hold it. Now bring it over, elbow to your side and feel the tension in the ginger when you press,” the knife touched the root and sliced through making him wet his lips feeling the distance between the blade and his hand, “And again.” You guided a single sweep to slide it over and slice again before the ginger was traded for peppers and tomatoes completing all the dicing when the list was through.

“Now that your sauce is simmering your chicken.” The sizzle and sound of it sliding onto the pan in your guidance make his hair stand on end in anticipation. He knew how long to cook it all and how it felt so this wasn’t so strange but the scents and sounds were as if it was his first time.

“What about the sauce?”

“Give it time.”

“But-,”

“When you taste apples let me know and you will stir it.”

“Apples?”

“Mhmm. Now the ginger for Elves is quite strong, but to Dwarves it gives it that slight honey taste, and since we have twice as many taste buds as you it’s best to learn in moderation how we season our foods.”

“Okay.” After wetting his lips he said, “I think I should flip it,”

“Not yet,” you said holding his hands in place before his head tilted slightly hearing a soft popping sound making you smirk in your releasing his hand saying, “Now,” and again his hair on his arms stood on end hearing the slide of the spatula and the smooth raise of the chicken breast he flipped over and let sit.

“Apples,” he mumbled having breathed in the taste deeply as you had showed him to breathe through this to help him pick it up quicker.

“Good,” guiding him a step over you swapped his spatula for the large spoon he used to stir the sauce he then added the last of the ingredients you had set out.

The last bit was easy, guiding him to pour the sauce on the plate with the plop of the meat on over it making him pout for a moment knowing the presentation was awful, “Appearance is nothing for your first try, just taste.” His lips parted and he hummed lowly and removed the blindfold to delve into the meal you had helped him make that honestly didn’t look half bad now that he’d tasted it, and most assuredly he would give your lessons another try. But for now you were tired and after a lingering kiss when the dishes were cleared he hummed out, “Come in, to bed, I’ll ravage you in the morning. You need your rest.”

But the ravaging wouldn’t come and there was no ask of how you felt. He knew, you felt awful and it was his fault. He had missed something and couldn’t bear to hear you say he had failed on protecting you from this weariness he had inflicted. So to bed you went sharing another kiss at an arm length apart to grant you some cool air to drift off in and that was it.

*

Groggily you opened your eyes in the plushy bed a couple feet from Thorin, whose usual body heat painfully proved too much for you lately and sitting up you let out a heavy breath in the tiring task of removing the covers from over you. Completely frozen to the core you sat up somehow coated in dried sweat only to have your eyes drop to your arms that flopped onto your lap. Pale and clammy they lay there with your dark green veins showing all the clearer and yet up near your wrist you gasped in seeing a telling sliver of glowing blue veins in the crease right under your palm. Somehow you managed to get to the bathroom yet your hasty closing of the door made it slam tearing Thorin from his sleep.

“Dearest?” Sitting up he looked around the room seeing your side of the bed stained with sweat and assuming you were getting sick he hopped out crossing the bed to rush to the door. At the wooden barrier he heard the click of the lock, “Jaqi, what’s wrong? Let me in.”

Panting against the door feeling your legs beginning to wobble you replied, “Thorin I need you to get my phone.”

Thorin, “If you need to go to the doctor come out I’ll take you.”

“Thorin, I need you to call Fëanor.”

The rattling of the door made your lip quiver as tears welled up in your eyes at his frantic, “Jaqi, open the door.” Trying to remain calm in his panic of trying to learn what was going on.

“Thorin, my phone…”

“I can call him later. Just-,”

His words cut off at your hand hitting the door weakly, yet with enough force to make it rattle on the frame, “Thorin! Please?!” The ready squeak of your voice rendered him speechless, “You have to get my phone and call Fëanor. Tell him I have Neriama. Please, you can’t waste time in this you have to call him.”

Softly he replied, “Ok.” Turning away he hurried to get your phone and dialed the number returning to the other side of the door, “It’s ringing.” Wetting his lips he waited to hear the answering click then said, “Fëanor you’re on speaker. Jaqi’s locked in the bathroom says she’s got-,”

Through the line he answered for you, “Neriama?”

You weakly answered, “Yes.”

Fëanor, “The girls have it too. Must have passed it on to her. We’ll come and get you and bring you out to Greenwood. Now Thorin, you need to pack a bag for her. And do not get near her. It’s treatable but not for Dwarves. She’s highly contagious and we’ll send a team out to help sanitize your house too.”

Thorin wet his lips, “Take her to greenwood. For how long? If she’s sick I want to be there.”

Feanor said as you lowered to your knees to sit down and conserve your strength. “Thorin it’s only a week, possibly two. But you can’t be near her or she could kill you. Trust me we’ll take care of her.”

He had no choice, he had to let you go and his last glimpse of you was in Amrod’s car from a distance. His eyes lingering on the glowing pale blue veins in your face and orange tear streaks from your now bright green eyes down your clammy blotchy cheeks with a mask Celegorm had brought for you. Stuck outside while his house was being scrubbed talking to Caranthir, who would be helping to finish your tasks at the Stone today calming him as he shared how common this was for Elves under their first thousand year birthday. The car pulled away and he signed again for you to call him when you got settled in earning a nod and a wave from you.

.

All the way to Greenwood you were flown on a waiting emergency jet packed with supplies for emergency cases like this you and your three nieces were spread out in lying still after falling asleep due to the first bout of medicines to counter the common yet debilitating disease. The house was sanitized in record time and Thorin had gone back to change then head off to work early. The full crew arrived and sunk in mood right with him in the wait until word could be had of your status.

Lunch was when he got the call, the phone nearly flew from his hand when he jerked it out of his pocket, answering the call he listened to Feanor’s sharing that you were settled into the quarantined suite with your nieces in that wing of the best hospital in Greenwood.

Thorin, “Do they know when she will be awake?”

Fëanor, “Sometime tomorrow, the medicine is really strong up front she won’t be conscious very much the next few days.”

Thorin’s eyes shut and he rubbed his hand over his forehead asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

Fëanor sighed, “You’ve done so much already.”

Thorin scoffed, “I packed a bag! Then I stood aside while our home was scrubbed and she was carried out! How is that help?”

Fëanor, “You’re healthy and safe. It doesn’t sound like much to you but you’re going to be there when she gets home in a few days.”

Thorin’s lips parted, “I thought you said it might be two weeks.”

Fëanor, “The girls will be closer to two, apparently the medicine works faster in Hobbits. Her veins have already started dimming again which normally takes two days to stop.”

Thorin felt a surge of hope wash through him, “That’s good then,” he wet his lips, “She’s not getting sick or anything? I know you said she was asleep, but before that?”

Fëanor, “Normally it just makes them sleep through the medicine, without it they get violently ill.”

“At least she won’t be too uncomfortable through it then.” He wet his lips, “I’ll let you get back to it then, um, my lunch is almost up.”

Fëanor, “She told me to tell you to go be magnificent, and not to worry too much about her she’ll call when she wakes up.”

Lowly Thorin replied, “I will, thank you.”

The phone cut off on Feanor’s side and he moved to go sit at your side again, brushing up the covers that had slid down in your slumbering wiggle. Stroking your back calmly his gaze again turned to your heart monitor and then below it to the fetal monitor showing the steady pulse flashing across the screen.

Honestly, it wasn’t the medicine, you were wide awake not half an hour ago but after hearing the positive on your blood panel you had lasted calmly until the doctor had left the room then cried yourself to a point of exhaustion you drifted off in their arms. You did mean to call and said something similar to what Fëanor had said on the flight over, yet you had worried so much about how to tell Thorin he thought it best to leave it to you when you felt better. This was amazing news but also one to jab at an open wound that would no doubt make Thorin insist on seeing you to comfort you through it and worry about not just you but your surprise bundle too.

*

“How is that possible?! I’m on X. It’s supposed to be the strongest in injectable birth control.”

The doctor wet his lips hearing the wandering heart rate beeping in its dips and rises in your adjusting to the news. “It is, for Elleths. Meaning, when you do see your obgyn again you should look into Hobbit based hormones, after giving birth of course.” He let out a weak chuckle, “I’ve known Hobbitesess to just hold a friend’s baby or have a pregnant friend and it triggers those hormones to start ovulating even over the strongest medications.”

He inhaled deeply then stated, “These medications for your Neriama will not harm your baby, we’ve had hundreds of young mothers and babies pass through healthy, you said you haven’t shown any symptoms so it seems we’ve caught it early. Still if you would like we could bring in a monitor for them as well.” His brows inched up as your eyes remained fixed on his in your speechless stare, “Would you prefer a monitor?”

You managed a half nod and he flashed you a weak grin, “We will have that in here shortly, you rest and we’ll see if your progression tomorrow will allow us to get a sonogram machine in here to measure the little bud.” He turned and that day back in Orcarni flashed back to you, all that pain and terrifying confusion leading up to you having to bury your son and out the tears poured, your now green tears as you wept into the chests of Fëanor and your brothers not already curled around the girls.

You knew you could get through this but what the hell would you tell Thorin, how would you tell him, and more alarming was the whirlwind your mind spun into considering what he might say in return.

*

Through the screen of Thorin’s laptop he sat up in bed watching you sleep after you had dozed off on your video chat. Truly he didn’t mind and he was grateful for your loving conversation no matter how brief, in which he had told you he loved you, not his usual five times a day but twelve.

Three months now he had cherished each time he had said it since his first shout of it through the phone so you could hear it over the wind on the opposite end of the football match for Frodo stirring up awws and whistles from the crowd around him waiting in line at the concession stand. A giggle was his response before the cheers drowned out your response you happily repeated when he brought you the food you had asked for he insisted on getting alone.

He wanted you to be home so bad but nearly to full color again he watched you sleep hating the miles between you and after nearly an hour when he felt his eyes unable to stay awake his finger found the space bar to end the call so he could sleep with you, or at least dream he had. A full six days you had been gone and he had just his final shift to get through after deciding to keep busy at work without you to remain around his family who were the only thing keeping him sane between contact with you. Finishing the final button on his shirt he turned with brows furrowing at the out of place doorbell.

Instantly his heart skipped in the hope it possibly could be you coming home early, though halfway through the house he remembered you still hadn’t been discharged yet and had promised to call when you had and were on the way to flying home. Still he found the door and shoved the memory back of his being locked on the other side of his bathroom door from you that nearly had him in tears if he focused on it too long, and he opened the door.

“Delivery for a, Thorin Durin.”

Thorin accepted the tablet from the Dwarf and looked to the sending address, mumbling to himself, “I didn’t order anything…” a grin eased across his lips reading your name from the hospital in Greenwood, “Ah..”

Hastily he signed his name and thanked the delivery man who handed over the medium sized box and accepted his tablet in its place, “Have a nice day, Mr Durin.”

Thorin, “Same to you.” He said closing the door to hurry to his living room with the box.

Drawing out his key from his pocket he broke the tape on top and his brows furrowed in removing the packing holders. Until he spotted a tiny oak sapling in a pot coated with bunnies and acorns making him smirk as he followed the instructions on the card reading across the top, ‘Feed me, Keep me warm, let in the light.’

Chuckling to himself he gave it the water it needed and set it next to his mini sprout filled herb garden in the window box in the kitchen for light. Then returned to the box grinning seeing the black bearded crochet ram nearly seated upright with a head nearly too large for its body making him chuckle and trace his thumb over the heart on its front left rounded hoof. From there his eyes wandered to the deep blue sealed envelope with your writing on it feeling a bit too thick for just a note inside. And as much as he wanted to open it his phone chimed and he relented to waiting for his lunch to do so and carried the ram and card in their box all out to his car.

.

All the way through the shift he managed to go, constantly stealing glances at the box his family had all stolen glimpses of their own stirring up whispers as to what the box could hold. Frerin had come by the show to ensure it all went smoothly for his big brother who seemed more stoic than usual through the full show against a Dwarven team to lessen the effect of not having you there.

Down along the wall when the cameras stopped rolling and the guest team had to get back to their own place in the call that had them hurrying off to a family gathering that got moved up in the arrival of an unexpected guest they had to pick up along the way. Freed from the obligated tasks Thorin went to the table where he smirked sliding the box closer to himself. A tap on his shoulder drew him away to get a hug from Frerin in asking, “Still tomorrow?”

Thorin nodded, “Midnight possibly if she can get out earlier.”

A gasp came from behind him and he smirked in seeing the ram being lifted from the box by Bilbo saying, “You’re serious?” Thorin’s brow inched up and before he could ask what he meant Bilbo asked, “Which sapling did she send?”

His brows pressed together curiously, “Oak, why?”

“Great choice, strength, resistance and knowledge. Perfect choice.”

“How did you know about the sapling?” He asked turning to Bilbo in confusion.

Bilbo smirked lifting the ram then asked, “Do you mind if I give it a squeeze?”

Thorin shook his head, “I can’t see why not.” He answered curiously with a hitch in his voice watching as Bilbo grinned squeezing the heart only to make Thorin’s lips part at the faint heartbeat coming from the ram luring the others closer as Bilbo’s grin spread wider bringing it closer to his ear.

Lowly Thorin asked, “Why is there a heartbeat-?”

His eyes focused on the doll with his mind and heart racing as to why you had sent it making Bilbo peer up at him curiously, lowering the doll he looked into the box pulling out the envelope clearly not opened yet, “Oh…”

Thorin repeated, “How did you know about the sapling, and the heartbeat, Bilbo?”

Bilbo wet his lips passing him the envelope his hand folded around through the thundering of his heart, “It’s a Hobbit tradition. Pick a sapling to plant as a symbol of a new beginning, then you take an animal of your choosing to add a voice box with a recording of the heartbeat of-,”

Tears had welled in Thorin’s eyes in accepting the ram he pressed the heart on to hear the heartbeat again, and he whispered, “Our baby..” Lowering his gaze a tear streaked down his cheek in pressing the doll to his cheek just next to his ear drawing more tears from his eyes until it stopped playing and he lowered that hand to help open the envelope to pull out your letter. Sniffling softly he unfolded the letter from you stirring his teary grin out,

“Thorin,

I tried to think up the best way to tell you, and every time I thought something up I always knew that it wouldn’t be right and I’d probably just end up staring at you lost for words. Waiting until I got back was out and over the phone didn’t seem right. So, here it is. Turns out the ‘foolproof’ birth control I was on wasn’t Hobbit proof. One of the blood panels at the Hospital came back positive.” His voice wavered in adding, “I’m pregnant.”

In that Frerin gently tilted the page to continue reading, “Please don’t worry the medicines are completely safe for expecting mothers. I do have an appointment set up in a few weeks for another check up to get everything started on that front. I should be home soon, take good care of the sapling,” Frerin chuckled adding with a smirk, “Plus don’t forget to tell Dis the race is on to the delivery room. It’s sort of a toss up in genetics as to when I could be due, anywhere from 12 months to 4 years. And if my Hobbit side wins out I might just beat her.” Spreading chuckles through the group in another tear falling down Thorin’s cheek. “I love you, Jaqi.”

Folding the letter up again he passed it to Thorin, who pulled the paper pocket enclosed disk out making Dwalin say, “I’ll drive you home and we can pop that in.” Thorin nodded and melted into the tight family hug lasting for a few minutes as he calmed enough to have Dwalin drive him home.

Anxiously they all settled onto the couches and chairs brought in around it along with the full family that had been called over, peering up at the screen when Bilbo closed the disk tray then hurried over to Dwalin’s leg nipping at his lip in seeing the first image of the grey and black screen popping up. Blind shifting had Thorin wetting his lips for a moment anxiously as the wand was shifted and the heartbeat played again louder making Thorin cup his ram against his cheek tearfully in seeing the curled body of the baby whose body was mostly head at this point drawing another sniffle from him. A sea of awws and comments filled the room and hugs were issued with a meal to follow celebrating while plans for a fuller celebration when you returned were bring set up.

Pt 16

@himoverflowers​​, @theincaprincess​​, @aspiringtranslator​​, @sweeticedtea​​, @thegreyberet​​, @patanghill17​​, @jesgisborne​​, @curvestrology​​, @alishlieb​​, @jogregor​​, @armitageadoration​​, @fizzyxcustard​​, @here2have-fun​​, @lilith15000​​, @marvels-ghost​​, @catthefearless​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​, @c-s-stars​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​, @mariannetora​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

My Pearl - @here2have-fun​, @onewithleaf​, @sherala007​

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Chef au

[animemangasoul]

You Have A Home With Me

Summery: Tim takes in a meta human kid and tries to keep him a secret from the rest of the batfamily until his team gets back. It doesn't go as well as he'd hoped. And with an entire criminal empire after the kid, it's all Tim can do to keep it all under wraps and away from the media's attention

Characters: Tim Drake, Batfamily, Young Justice

Chapter: 3/5

Silently he picks up the discarded items on the wet floor; mind churning as he tries to formulate his next plan. He couldn’t very well ignore his duties as CEO or his nightly activities to take care of this kid full time until their situation got settled, at the same time---

He is still mulling it all over when quiet footsteps from behind him makes him blink out of his haze. “All dressed up?” he asks, turning his head to look at the kid. Big blue eyes stare back at him from behind blonde curls and the kid looks so small in his too big superman shirt and the slightly too large gray pajama pants that Tim’s heart hurts again just looking at him. How could anyone hurt someone so vulnerable?

The kid doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring back at him; owlish eyes trying and failing to hide the sleepiness dragging them under. Tim smiles. “I know you’re tired. But I’ll be done in a few seconds and then we can get something to eat before you go off to bed.”

Pale blonde eyebrows narrow, and the kid purses his lips.  

“Not hungry?” Tim asks, knowing full well how impossible that was, but giving the kid a choice, at least for today might be for the best. The kid’s grip on the door-frame tightens and he shrugs. “Ok then,” Tim says, picking up Bart’s favorite shampoo bottle from behind the trashcan. “I’m sure I have some of Alfred’s leftover lasagna from yesterday and it’s honestly delicious so-”

From the corner of his eye he can see the kid slowly retreating, probably done with his social interaction for the moment, and Tim huffs. “Hey.” The kid pauses, halfway out the door. “What’s your name?”  

He tries to ask the question as casual as possible, not even looking at the kid as he picks up the last of the mess, slowly stands up. “I’m sorry I called you by that..... What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?”

A dash of footsteps and the kid is gone, Tim sighs. “Too much Drake. Too much.”

He takes a bit longer to finish up, but that’s normal, that’s fine. It’s not like he was..... Tim wouldn’t admit that he was deliberately stalling, he was so not anxious about some tiny brat he’d personally rescued from a corrupt organization.

Not like it was mildly insulting that the kid still did not trust him when Tim had done everything remotely possible to show him that he was neither scared of his abilities nor willing to abandon him on a whim. It’s not like he was tired and worried and anxious and..... Tim was fine. Tim was fine. He was always fine.‘I’ll just give him a couple of minutes to calm down,’ he thought, sitting down on the closed toilet seat with heave of his shoulders.‘Wouldn’t do to crowd him while he’s agitated.’  

Picking up the first aid kit lying innocently next to the bathtub, he gets to work tending to his now severely throbbing wrist. It said a lot about his life that he could ignore the pain until he found the time to deal with it. It said a lot about his family and the crushing work they dealt with every night. A sprained wrist? He snorted as he finished tying it up. Oh please.

Finally done, he scooped up the kit under one arm and took a deep breath before standing up. “That’s long enough,” he muttered, walking out of the bathroom and making his way to the living room where, sure enough, the kid was; exactly in the same spot he’d occupied when they’d first made their way into the apartment. “I’ll make dinner,” he said offhandedly to the kid; deliberately putting the first aid kit on the middle of the coffee table. “And then we’ll take care of your injuries. Deal?”

The kid shook his head vigorously and.... Tim blinked back in surprise. That was the first time the brat had actually answered him that quickly. “Ok,” he said slowly, taking a step back and folding his arms. “We don’t have to do it to night if you’re not feeling any pain. Are you feeling any pain?” The kid paused for a second before shaking his head again and Tim frowned. “You sure?” Another pause and then a nod. “Fine,” Tim said, turning and walking into the kitchen. “Tomorrow it is.”

-----------

Heating up dinner doesn’t take long and soon enough they are both sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, two plates of lasagna in front of them. Tim is starving and digs in almost immediately, not even waiting for his steaming meal to cool down a bit, but just as he is about to take his third bite, he catches sight of the kid. The kid who has yet to even lift a hand to pick up his utensils and Tim frowns at him in confusion. “You don’t like lasagna?” The kid shrugs looking away and....

Sighing heavily, Tim puts down his own fork and folds his arms. Why was this kid so freaking difficult? Tim couldn’t read minds and the brat was a mystery wrapped in suspicion wrapped in paranoia and Tim knew, he knew it was only a matter of time before he messed this whole thing up horribly and shit truly hit the fan. “You not hungry?”

Nothing.

“Is it too little? I can get you more when you’re finished?”

Nothing.

Frustration now mounting Tim leans forward slightly trying to meet the kid’s gaze. “I’m sorry kiddo but I can’t read minds. You have to tell me what’s wrong or I won’t know how to help.” The blonde finally meets his eyes and.... Tim’s lips part in stunned silence at the watery fear flooding the kid’s eyes and trickling down his cheeks. What the---

Shaking his head furiously, the kid pushes the plate aside and clams a hand over his mouth all the while glaring up at Tim in what the vigilante can only call terror. What the hell was going on? What did he do? Why was the kid crying? Why was.....

And then it hits him.

It’s like the pages of the folder he’d been reading this whole week starts flipping open in his mind and he remembers. Page seven, paragraph four.  

Leaning back, Tim runs a shaking hand through his hair and tries his damnedest not to cry. “You’re scared I poisoned your food, aren’t you?” The kid flinches, bottom lips wobbling as he refuses to meet Tim’s eyes anymore. Tim suddenly doesn’t feel like eating either. “They messed with your food and.... You don’t know if you can trust me not to do the same.”

Silence.

Tim bites his lips and looks away. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with M.E.T?

Every new thing he learned about them he just--

Staring at his fingers, he tries to breath. It wouldn’t do for him to lose it in front of the kid. That wouldn’t help anybody. ‘Relax,’  he thinks. ‘Just calm down. If you show your anger now God knows how he’ll interpret it. Just breath and calm down.’  

Looking at the curled-up figure across from him, Tim tries to prioritize this moment. This instant. The right here and now. He’ll make them pay, but for now....

Leaning forward, he ignores the kid shrinking away and instead picks up the untouched plate in front of him before standing up, making sure the plate is still in eyesight of the blonde who is rapidly watching him from behind shaking fingers.  

Reaching up, Tim pulls down a bigger plate from the top shelf and puts it at the center of the table before dumping the lasagna in it. The kid doesn’t make a sound but his confusion is quite evident from the widening of his eyes, and Tim smiles reassuringly at him before picking up his own plate and also dumping it in the same plate, and then, using a clean fork, he mixes it all up thoroughly.  

Satisfied, he plops down on his chair and picks his fork back up. “Now there is no way for me to poison you,” he says. “Since we’re eating the same thing, right?”

He doesn’t say anything else, just digs in; at a much slower pace as he silently prays that his solution turned out to be an actual solution and that the poor kid wouldn’t starve and----

A shaking fork finds its way into the plate and Tim doesn’t look at the kid, eating instead in quiet silence but his heart lifts seeing the other side of the plate slowly emptying and well, Tim would be lying if he said his mind didn’t feel utter relief knowing that the kid wouldn’t go to sleep hungry.

“Matt.”

“Huh?”

The soft unfamiliar words startle Tim out of his thoughts, and it takes him a second to realize that the kid is actually speaking to him and.... His eyes widen, head snapping up to meet the too pale face of the blonde. “What did you say? Did you say something?”

The kid shrinks back, cheeks flushed red from embarrassment as well as the tomato sauce staining the whole lower half of his face; making him look even more painfully young. “My name,” the kid says; voice shaking uncontrollably. “is Matt.”

There is traces of a slight accent in his words and he goes right back to shoving forkful of lasagna in his mouth the minute the words are out but....

Damn it, Tim quickly looks down to stop the brat from seeing the wetness in his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you Matt. I’m Tim.”

“Nice to meet you... Mr.Tim.”

And yeah.... Tim would probably fight the whole world for this kid.  

----------

When dinner is over, Tim instructs the ki--- Matt to wash his face before he goes to bed. And as he cleans up the table, he keeps an eye on the child standing on a chair, carefully washing off the sauce from his face.  

“You can sleep in the guestroom down the hall,” he finally says when the kid has jumped down from the chair, eyes fixed on his feet and tiny hands gripping the hem of the blue shirt. “Here,” he says, reaching into his pocket and extending the keys to the wide-eyed kid. “You can lock your door if you want. If you feel safer that way I mean.”

Matt doesn’t take a step closer, just continues to stare at the keys with a sort of longing in his eyes that makes Tim smile sadly.  

Putting the keys on the table he steps back and as soon as he does, the kid springs forward and snatches it up, looking up at him as if he expects some kind of reaction, but all Tim does is nod at him once before he takes the plates over to the sink; careful to leave enough room for Matt to sprint past him if he wants, which the kid does almost immediately.

Well, Tim thinks. 'I guess he fulfilled his sharing quota of the day.’  

------  

The minute he’s done cleaning up after them, Tim situates himself on the sofa; mug of coffee in hand and several folders spread out in front of him as gets to work. He still hadn’t finished the presentation for tomorrow’s unveiling project and he needed to get a head start on that drug case Dick was working on and not to mention the weapon smuggling ring him and Jason were trying to uncover and---

Sighing, he rubs a tired hand across his brow and pulls up the file on his computer before he starts typing. It would be a long night indeed.

He’s been working for almost three hours; four trips to the kitchen for coffee refills and one trip for a change of clothes when he hears tiny shuffling from behind him. Looking up he blinks tiredly at the tiny child standing across from him; arms curled around his middle and tired eyes framed by a pale face, widening as if he hadn’t expected to actually find Tim.

It takes the young CEO a full minute to wrap his head around this strange kid being in his apartment; for a moment wondering if Damian had dyed his hair or something before his mouth rounds off into a silent o and he fully sits up to stare back at the kid. “Matt? What are you doing up?”

The kid doesn’t say anything, thin lips curling downward in distress as he shuffles forward before stopping abruptly and taking a step back.  

Tim frowns. “Couldn’t sleep?”

A nod.

“Nightmare?”

Another nod.

“Anything I can do?”

A shake of the head, no.

“Ok. Do you want me to make you something?”

Another shake of the head.

Tim’s brows crease in worry. “Do you not feel safe in your room?”

A nod.

“Oh.”

Well, that was disheartening. What exactly was Tim supposed to do about that? If even a locked door Matt could control couldn’t make the kid feel safe then how---

A tiny body darts passed him and before Tim even has a chance to blink, the kid flings himself up on the other side of the sofa, curling into a ball and leaning his head against the armrest, closing his eyes.  

Tim stares, stunned. Was the kid going to....

“You want to sleep here?”

A nod.

“Do you want me to go?” Tim reaches out to pick up his paperwork but---

A shake of the head and..... Oh, wow. The vigilante can’t help the ghost of a smile that pulls at his lips. “Ok. That’s ok. Goodnight Matt.”

“Goodnight Mr. Tim.”

End

This kid is legit making me sad while writing this. Like why do I do this to him? I’m horrible. Tim and his angsty/hurt son. Things can only get worst before they get better.

@miss-choco-chips @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen anyone else who want me to tag them please let me know and thanks for reading everyone :)

#Tim Drake #Batfamily Fanfic #batfamily fic rec #red robin #red robin fanfic #batsiblings #young justice fic #young justice #Young Just Us

[sylvain-writes]

Scarlet Letters (TMNT Raphael x Reader)

Chapter 4/8: Tough Love

Getting Raphael to open up takes a little push, but you don’t need to tiptoe; this turtle’s not one to run from a little confrontation. Raphael reveals some insecurities. And you learn there’s power in a name.

(Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ao3)

All is quiet as you kneel between Raphael’s thighs.  The flickering candles give off just enough light for you to catch his features as they shift from curiosity to something like the looks of interest you’ve brushed off from people who don’t interest you in the same way.  

To be fair, no one has interested you the way Raphael does.  No one has consumed your thoughts so quickly, found their way into your heart so easily.  He overwhelms you by degrees.

As you consider the horrible dates of your past and the uniquely interesting night this has turned out to be, you absentmindedly caress the taut skin on the insides of his knees.  

Raphael’s stomach growls, and you can’t help but laugh at the interruption.  You wonder how long you would have continued, lost in each other’s stare, if his hunger hadn’t made itself known.

“I’ll make us something,” you say as you bring yourself to your feet.  You allow your hand to pass over Raphael’s shoulder until your fingertips graze the edge of his shell.  Your stomach swoops at his shudder.  It’s not your imagination when Raphael leans back on the stool to prolong your touch. 

At the pantry, jars of tomato sauce, cans of soup, and boxes of sundry non perishables stare back at you from the well-stocked shelves.  “So, Red," you call over your shoulder, "do you have any dietary restrictions I should know about?”  

It feels weird even admitting to yourself that you researched turtle diets before the power went out and your wifi switched over to data.  You don’t dare share that bit of information aloud.

The grunt Raphael gives in response is gruff.  “Whateva’s fine,” he says, voice clipped.  It's such a stark difference from the softness and warmth you'd seen radiating from his eyes, that you pull up short.  You turn to face him.  But he isn't looking at you.  

He wears a pinched expression as he picks at the bandage on his thigh.

Your eyebrows knit together and you feel the frown on your lips, but you decide it's best to let him be for now.  He's been through so much in such a short time. 

⁂

They say it’s an old wives’ tale; they say you can’t really sense someone looking at you while your back is turned.  But as you move around the kitchen, you can tell.  His eyes follow you.  

It’s not the soft gaze you were falling into just moments ago.  This look is piercing.  There’s heat to it that you don’t understand.  You think maybe you’ve done something wrong, but Raphael is short with words and it’s hard to come up with a reason on your own.  

“Everything OK?” you ask from the stove, trying not to let your uncertainty shine through your voice.  The lack of response raises your concern to new heights.  "Red?"  When you turn to face the room, the turtle is nowhere to be seen.  His absence leaves a hollow feeling in your stomach. 

Feeling even more unsettled than before, you add a thawing bag of kale to the saucepan.  Hopefully, with this addition, the chicken vegetable soup won’t taste too much like the can from which it was dumped.  

You’ll impress him with your culinary prowess some other time, you think.  If you get the chance.  At the thought of exchanging goodbyes, your heart stops beating.  When you consider never seeing him again, your heart feels like it’s forgotten how to start back up.

There’s no sound of Raphael’s reentry, but you feel his presence filling the room when he returns.  The smell of the soup must have drawn him from exploring the other rooms.  You don’t mind him wandering.  After waking up in a strange place, you figure you’d feel more comfortable if you saw a proper layout of your surroundings as well.  All that matters is his return.

Raphael peers into the pot and sniffs the air.  There’s no hum of approval.  No request for a taste or suggestion to adjust the seasoning.  You wonder if he’ll eat what you’ve prepared, if it’ll be enough to satisfy his appetite.  When you ask for his opinion on rice versus noodles, all he gives you are short huffs and a crooked side-eye.

After ten minutes of worrying what it means when he looks at you like this or what he’s trying to convey when he grunts like that, you give up trying to doctor the soup.  If all he's going to do is drift in and out of the shadows glaring at you, maybe he should prepare his own damn meal.  

You’re about to call him back over to take your place at the stove when you hear him gasp from across the room.  Apparently ‘making himself comfortable’ on the couch isn’t going so well. Another shock of pain catches him off-guard and he lets out a short hiss.  It twists your heart.  

Never one to let someone suffer alone, you ladle some soup into bowls and bring them over to the table.  “You’ll be more comfortable here,” you say, not unkindly. Not that he deserves more of your kindness with the way he lifts his nose to the air and sneers.  “I won’t let you stain my carpet or my couch,” you clarify, “so if you’re gonna eat, eat at the table.  It’s soup.  It’s hot.  It’s good for you.”  You think that last statement is the truth.  You really tried to fix him something appropriate.

Raphael does eventually come over to eat.  He’s cordial, but there’s a distance between you - more than the space of the table that separates your seats.  He forgoes the spoon, in favor of lifting the bowl to drink straight from its side.  Despite his reluctance to join you for the meal, he drains the bowl without complaint.  

“Do you want more?”

His answer is a shrug and you’re not sure what the hell you’re supposed to make of that.  “It’s a simple question, Red,” you sharpen your gaze, trying to get a read on him.  “Yes or no?”  You don’t mean to snap, but you’re exasperated and tired.  Damn, you think, dragging your hands over your face; you’re so very tired. 

You watch the lines of his face dance.  Surprise looks foreign on his features.  “Are you talkin’ t’ me?”  

The way he's acting, you'd think no one's ever called him out on his attitude before.  “Who the hell else would I be talking to? I’ve been trying to talk to you all night.  Not that you owe me anything-” you hold up your hands to signify a truce “-cause you don’t, but I brought you in, patched you up, and now you act like… like none of that means anything.”  You’d thought it meant something.  It was really starting to feel like it meant something.

At Raphael’s lack of response, you grab his bowl from the table and fill it at the stove.  At least while he was eating, his silence was warranted.  

You’re getting twisted up in your emotions.  You need to get a grip.  Before taking the second helping over to Raphael, you place it down hard on the countertop.  With a tight hold on the edge of the counter, you take a steadying breath.  You’re not being fair.  Raphael didn’t ask for any of this.  It’s your own fault, if you’ve been reading more into the brief moments of tenderness between you and this guy....  this guy who, for all intents and purposes, is still very much a stranger.

As you lift the soup bowl again, you mutter half-to-yourself, half-to-Raphael, “Geez, Red.  You never heard, ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’?”

It’s the wrong thing to say, the wrong button to push.  You know it the minute Raphael’s cheeks flush a deep emerald.  

“I ain’t some stray you brought in from the street.  You think I’m gonna curl up at ya feet just cause you pet my head and tell me I’m a good boy?  I ain’t no pet.”

“Good!” You shoot back. And it does feel good to release some of the tension between you like this.  Finally you’re saying what you want to say the moment you want to say it without fear he’ll leave.  Because he could have tried to leave at any moment.  He could be gone.  But he’s staying.  Raphael’s not one to back down from a fight.  As soon as you realize that, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Good,” you reiterate, “cause I hate pets.”  You take another deep breath and, with the worry that Raphael would disappear into the storm fading, this breath centers you in a way the last one didn’t. When you speak again you’re level-headed and calm.  “But I could use a friend, ya know?  And it looked like you coulda used one too.”  

"Friend," he scoffs as if the word is a farce.

It is.  For you.  You look at him and see someone who already means more to you than any friend ever has.  

You two are locked in a stare until you shake your head to break free of the spell.  “Look, as soon as the storm passes, I’ll help you get home.  It can’t be too far, right?”

Raphael holds his side as he stands from the table.  It’s as if it takes a little pressure to ease the pain of moving.  

“Whaddaya mean, ‘can't be too far'?  Whadda you know, huh?  Who d'you work for?"

"No one,” you answer quickly.  Then amend, “Well, the Urgent Care over in DUMBO, but… No one important, I swear." 

"Then why would ya know whereabouts I live, huh?” The way he sidesteps the stool, you think he’s going to head off to the living room or disappear down the hall.  Instead, he plants his feet, folds his arms over his chest, and looks down at you in accusation.

You look up at him, a little perturbed by his distrust but… there’s something about him, even as he towers over you, that isn’t as menacing as it ought to be.  He doesn’t scare you.  

He doesn’t scare you, and you suspect that’s because, deep down, he isn’t trying to.  Or maybe with other people he never really has to try.  Afterall, he’s huge, tattooed, and scarred.  He’s a giant turtle -- a mutant, if you take the story about the ooze literally.  Were you supposed to?  He was half-delirious in that bath.  You blink a few times to clear your thoughts.  Now, really, isn’t the time to lose focus.

Leaning back to meet his eyes, to make sure he knows you haven’t been spooked, you speak plainly.  “Your accent; you’re from Brooklyn.”  

You’ve lived in the city your whole life.  Mostly in the Bronx, but that was more because your surviving parent was looking to put some distance between you and that block in lower Manhattan where your father was attacked.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess Raphael sounds most at home right here by the piers.  

“I’m from nowhere." Raphael states like it's a fact.  "‘Cause ain’t nobody thinks I’m nothin’.”  His feet shuffle beneath him; he’s anxious to move.  Your hands itch to reach out in a request for him to stay put.  “As far as the world is concerned,” he continues, “I’m no one; I don’t exist.”

The muscles of Raphael’s jaw tick as he clenches his teeth.  He raises his eyes to the ceiling and you know this is a now-or-never moment, a time to speak up.  

“You’re wrong,” you begin, anxiety filling your chest and pushing your heart into your throat.  “You’re somebody to me.”  

"Ya don't even know my name."

"What?  Of course I know your…" 

Raphael turns away.

You can feel the tightness of your forehead as your brow furrows.  You can hear the heat in your voice.  What was meant to be a gentle sentiment is carried fiercely by your determination for Raphael to listen to what you have to say.  “Even when you were barely able to stand on your own two feet, you were ready to defend me.”

The glance he spares is wary.  You take it as a sign to carry on.  

“You could have run, hidden, but you stayed by my side.  You came with me to the door ready to fight.”

Raphael swallows hard, but his defensiveness remains solidly in place.  “O’ course I did.  Ya didn’t know who coulda been out there.”

“That’s what I mean.”  You face him straight on.  Your eyes lock on his with an intensity you think is only meant for the movies.  “You could have been killed, but you were fearless.”

Raphael flinches.  He tightens his arms around himself.

“What did I say?”  You look at him, eyes wide with compassion.  Something in him has changed.  He’s pulling away again.  “Don’t do that, please.”  Your hand hovers in the air between you.  “Don’t shut me out.  Raphael,” you plead, “tell me what I said.”

When his attention snaps to you, you’re hit with the realization that you’ve never spoken his name aloud before.  The syllables feel right as the name builds in your chest and passes through your lips again.  But at the same time, it feels like too much, like now that you’ve said it, you’ve revealed feelings you can’t take back.

#Raphael x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #Raphael x Reader #TMNT Raphael x Reader #Raph x Reader #TMNT Raphael #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #TMNT #Bayverse TMNT #Bayverse Raphael #Raphael 2014/2016 #TMNT 2014/2016

[jamkookies]

Decalcomania

Description :  A trip to Malta for the shooting of Bon Voyage seems peaceful enough until the moment things take an unexpected turn...

Word Count : 2.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This tastes really good." Jungkook says through a mouthful, munching and smacking his lips.

You weren't even surprised to see the red sauce staining the corners of his lips, proof of how much he was enjoying his delicious slice of pizza.

A sudden déjà vu hits you, and you experience the same feeling from the restaurant by the beach, except for this time you don't tell, but rather show him. He stops chewing when you use your thumb to swipe at the tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth. That seems to catch him off guard, but then, to your astonishment, he follows your finger with his mouth and licks the remnants off of it.

You stare in silent horror as he smirks and resumes chewing.

"I don't know if I should be disgusted by the fact that you eat like an infant or that you just licked my finger like a freaking popsicle." you blink.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

"Oh hell no!" you screech." In fact, I'd like it if you kept that dirty mouth of yours as far away from me as possible." you say, wiping your finger on the hem of your shirt and then digging in your own slice of pizza.

His eyes darken at your words and he sweeps a look at you shamelessly from head to toe.

"I could take that in a different context but it's better if we don't rush things for now." he says, abandoning what's left of the pizza to the sheet spread on the sand.

You choke.

He chuckles in delight and then leans forward, putting his palms face down on each side of yours. You go cross eyed at the face looming  in front of you as it violates every rule of ethical distance.

"Sharing is caring." he says and stares at the slice of pizza hanging from your lips. You refuse to be flustered by his antics. It had happened a number of times by now but that belonged in the past. Jeon Jungkook had no idea who he was messing with.

Without blinking an eye, you keep munching on the food, not giving a damn if his face was literally a couple of inches from your own. You point a finger at the unfinished slice of pizza laying on the sheet.

"I don't like the crust." he says, without even throwing a glance its way.

"Well, then starve." you deadpan.

With a flick of his wrist, you're robbed of the heavenly delicacy and all that's left is a small chunk of cheese dangling from your lips like a pendulum.

"Hey! That's my food, you idiot!"

He only offers you a smug smile in return.

"Where do you even put all that, anyway? Is there a black hole in your stomach?"

His eyes flick to his abdomen, the expanse of rippling muscles discernable even through the material of his shirt.

"Dunno. Fast metabolism, I guess." he answers while munching away.

Despite promising yourself not to yield, one look at his stuffed cheeks makes your features soften.

How controversial, you thought to yourself.

There he was, sitting in all his glory, overgrown messy hair reaching past his cheekbones, delicate lashes fluttering against his skin and... and his mouth struggling to chew the food in one go.

A loving smile sneaks into your face.

"Jungkook....is it bad that I feel happy?" You let yourself voice the thoughts in your head.

He stops chomping on the food for a moment and silently observes you.

"I mean," you continue. "I know it sounds absurd saying it right now. We're practically homeless and the money we have will barely be enough to get us through this, but....it feels nice. Being with you, I mean. It's different from when I was by myself. I didn't have anyone."

He seems to be contemplating your words, capturing his bottom lip with his teeth.

"That was kinda cheesy." he remarks, while looking at the pizza.

You burst into laughter.

Being with Jin-hyung for too long had definitely made an effect on him.

"But I know what you mean." he continues. "I feel happy too."

A blinding smile breaks across your whole face.

"Come here," he says softly and pats the seat next to him.

After having put some distance earlier, your legs now move on their own accord, snuggling closer to him. You lean your head on his lap and he doesn't object, even daring to run a hand through your hair, untangling it from the messy knots caused by the wind. His fingers are careful, gentle and as they draw invisible patterns against your scalp, you suddenly feel your eyelids droop.

You'd both started to grow more comfortable in each other's presence, not scared to show affection anymore.

It was a good thing, you thought.

You didn't really care about labels. Girlfriend, boyfriend— those were just words that had lost their true meaning nowadays. Did it even matter if in the end you would be willing to give your life for him, dramatic as it might sound?

"Don't sleep." you hear him say, but his skillful fingers still continue to caress you.

"I'm not." you reply with your eyes closed.

His thumbs travel from your head to your face and graze past your jaw. Then, something soft and plump touches the tip of your nose and you open your eyes only to see Jungkook kissing it.

It lasts for a second and he pulls away, taking with him his long dark locks which had tickled your face just a moment earlier.

He leans back on the heels of his hands, satisfied, but it is quickly replaced by surprise when you reach up to kiss his own nose.

You then let your head fall down onto his lap and giggle like a four year-old. He throws his own head back and bursts into laughter.

The action makes his whole body shake and you, having leaned into him, tremble as well, continuosly bumping the back of your head on the solid muscles of his thighs.

"Ouch! Jungkook, stop working out so much. Your thighs are not comfortable."

"I thought you liked my thighs."

"They're nice to look at, but not to sit on. Er.. lean on. I mean lean on."

You almost slap yourself in embarrassment.

His eyebrows shoot up and a lop-sided grin hangs on his lips.

"You can always sit on them if you like." he teases.

You quickly clamp your hand around his mouth, shutting him up for good.

"Shhhh. Let's pretend this didn't happen." you whisper, but as expected, Jungkook kisses the hand around his lips while you're at it.

This boy was gonna be the death of you.

* * *

Wandering through the streets hand in hand didn't exactly make the sun move slower towards the blue line in the horizon. It kept sinking lower and lower as if drawn by an invisible string, ignoring all of your prayers to just stay up for a little longer. It would soon be nighttime and you knew what that meant.

Darkness.

And danger.

The horrors you'd lived through had definitely made their toll on you and even though Jungkook's reassuring hand squeezed your own every time you tensed, you couldn't help but feel a little  frightened.

It was weird, how your incident had made you see things in a completely different way. You felt jittery when you saw ropes or jagged rocks, shrunk into yourself every time an older man came near to your space.

You'd unconsciously developed a fear you didn't even know was possible.

It had been hard the first days at the hotel. Having to fight on your own, with no one by your side, unprotected. Knowing that no one was gonna come to your rescue even if your throat turned raw from screaming.

So you'd held.

Struggled like hell.

Refused to give in to the impending doom threatening to take over you.

But now...

Now you had Jungkook, right?

The boy had been through even worse than you, but here he was, offering to be your shield from now on. You'd surrendered yourself to him, showing him all of your fears and weaknesses and he'd quietly accepted them.

"You okay?" he says and pulls you closer to him when he notices the distance you try to keep from people bumping into you.

"Yeah." you say, wary eyes flicking in every direction. "It's just that I got used at the hotel where there were no...strangers. And lights were on the whole time."

He only nods in return.

"I sound ridiculous don't I?" you add.

"No, not at all." he objects. "I cried for two days after I did...what I had to do, and would swat away every single hand that rested on my shoulders to console me."

Your chest tightens painfully at the honesty in his words.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Jungkook."

He stops walking and turns on his side to face you.

"Hey, we talked about this. It was not your fault."

"But–"

"No buts."

You sigh deeply.

"I keep ruining the mood. We were doing fine a while ago, eating pizza and stuff."

"You're right," he says, eyes lighting up in anticipation. "We need some food. Let's go get something."

He starts to drag you along but you plant your feet on the ground.

"Aren't we spending a little too much?" you ask. "We need to save the money for the flight tickets and if you've noticed, there are no jobs lying around."

"Dammit, I hate it when you're right twice in a row."

A soft chuckle escapes your lips and you wrap your arms around his waist while looking up at him.

"Sorry, can't help it."

"Are you in for an ice-cream though?" he offers.

"Let's count the money first. We don't even know how much we have."

"Alright."

"Um... where should we do it? I don't want people to watch us."

His face distorts, trying to hold in a laughter.

"Oh my God, Jungkook, what the hell?! People accuse me of making dirty jokes all the time, but I'm starting to think you're the real pervert here."

"If I'm a pervert, then how did you know what I was thinking?"

You open your mouth but then close it, not having an argument strong enough to prove him wrong.

He looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, yeah, alright. I'm a pervert. You're a pervert. We're all perverts. Now let's go."

You grab his shirt and force him to follow you to the beach once again. It wasn't so crowded since it was almost nightfall and you kinda liked it better than other places.

Jungkook sits down on the sand and pulls out his satchel along with the money inside of it. His fingers flip Euro after Euro, lips moving inaudibly as he counts to himself.

"992 Euros." he says after finishing.

"Wow."

"You earned way more than me, though. I'm ashamed."

"You only worked for one day, Kook."

"And ruined it too. I still can't believe you worked for fifteen hours."

"It's not that big of a deal. Look how toned my arms are."

You flex your biceps proudly but he pushes it down with one hand.

"Not funny." he grumbles.

Dismissing his persistence with a roll of your eyes, you grab the money from his hands and fold them neatly.

"The tickets are 600 euros each. We need at least 200 more."

"It's not that much." he says with a forced air of nonchalance. "Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy."

"How are you so confident?"

"Trust me, everything is possible when you have Jeon Jungkook by your side."

You huff a laughter through your nose.

"Can you get me my bucket hat?" he asks you.

"Why? What do you want it for?"

"It's my lucky charm."

Shaking your head in disbelief, you unzip the suitcase and retrieve the hat from its pocket, putting it a little further on the sand.

"Hey! I said to give it to me!" he whines.

"There's no need to put it on. Lucky charms don't necessarily work that way. Plus, I like seeing your hair."

He grins like a maniac.

"I'm gonna cut it soon."

"Like hell you are!" you exclaim, horrified. "I'll destroy every single pair of scissors if I have to."

His grin only grows bigger.

"Okay, then. Do whatever you want. I'm in your hands."

Damn it.

You'd started to think that it would've gotten easier to handle his flirtatious replies by now.

You were wrong.

You try to fight the furious blush spreading through your neck as you fish for some coins in your pocket and start making shots straight for the hat.

One.

Two.

Clink.

Three.

Clink.

"Wow, you're good." Jungkook breathes.

"You're not the only talented one here, Kooks."

"I beg to differ."

"Well, you can sing."

He hums in approval.

Clink.

"And dance."

Clink.

"And you're good at sports."

Clink.

"And....I don't know, man. I guess you're good at everything." you finish and throw all the coins in one go.

He throws his head back and laughs while clapping his hands like a seal.

"You're still forgetting one thing." he says in a low voice.

"What?"

"I can make you smile."

As if on cue, your lips stretch into a wide smile and it feels like pure bliss.

"Speaking of talents," he continues. "I never got to show you my new song."

You unconsciously lean forward, trembling with anticipation.

"You made a new song?"

"It's not finished yet, but I'd like it if you gave it a listen."

"Please do." you insist.

"Okay, then."

His eyes close on their own and it's like he turns into a whole new person. It left you in shambles every single time. The way he felt each word and sound flowing like sweet honey from his chest.

When I see you smile in the screen

You're good at everything, you're just perfect.

Feels like I've never been you.

Do you even see me?

Do you know who I am?

Or how do I look now?

You don't like me like that.

Come and tell me so much, beautiful heart

Oh how I'm gonna listen to you, please.

All the numbers too big, can't get out of your game

Oh I want to paint it like you, please.

I want to be your decalcomania

I want you

I want to be your decalcomania

I want,

I want you.

Your eyes turn blurry with unshed tears and you're ready to pounce on him and tell him it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard in your life, when suddenly you hear the clink of coins in the hat.

A middle aged woman smiles at Jungkook and takes her leave.

You both turn your heads and lock eyes with each other.

Busking it is.

#bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook #jeongguk #kookie #kook #jk #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #ot7

[deathduty]

The Befriending || Deirdre & Shiloh

Deirdre and Shiloh make a friend!

“You’re quite skilled at miming, Shiloh,” Deirdre said, stepping out of Yours, Mime & Ours with a small smile, glancing back at her date. She didn’t have high hopes, or any at all really, but it was nice enough dinner and Shiloh wasn’t detestable company. The night was cold though, and though Deirdre felt none of it, she stuffed her hands into her pockets and gave her best performance of a shiver. “I suppose that makes sense, you are good with our hands after all.” Despite their online conversation about juices, Deirdre’s tone was more teasing than it was flirtatious. Interests, as they were, seemed to be elsewhere. It was nice, still, to speak to another non-american. “Are you alright there, Shiloh? You didn’t drink too much wine, did you?”

Shiloh felt odd about the whole thing. But she’d been feeling odd the whole day. Not like anyone could blame her. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she looked over at Deirdre. She was odd but in a good way. They had originally planned this as a date a while back but it didn’t feel like that, thankfully. “I think the food just didn’t sit well with me honestly.” She gave a bashful smile, glancing away. Deirdre was pleasant although not as flirtatious as she was online… but then again neither was Shiloh. Shiloh was just grateful she had something distract her tonight. SHe needed it and didn’t want to bother any of her friends as they would ask too many questions. Deirdre was still a stranger and wouldn’t ask personal questions. As they continued, the feeling felt a little worse. Jeez, the anxiety, where was that coming from? Might be a combination of the food and the wine and her current stress levels. She continued walking alongside Deirdre, noticing the shiver. “Do you want my coat?” She asked, stopping right in the middle of the restaurant and another building.

“Hm, diarrhea, that’s a killer.” Deirdre laughed, though the amusement of the moment quickly found itself diminished as Shiloh went on. She did look a little...not well. “If it’s the food, do you think we’d be able to sue? I think the idea of money. Poop money, if you will.” Her date had gone nice enough that the concern on her face was genuine, to some degree. Food poisoning might liven up an already pleasant night, but Shiloh’s wellbeing was slightly more pressing. The banshee paused, the alley way beyond them beckoned but she kept her gaze steady on her date. “No, I’m fine. Seems like you might need it more and--” Deirdre couldn’t stop her head from turning into the pitch black gaping maw of an alleyway. She could swear, by the slow thumps of her heart, that she’d seen a shadow moved. “Hey, maybe we can cut to my car through here. Instead of walking all the way around and…” she trailed off, already moving into the shadows. “I think there might be a dog or something back here. Can you use your phone, Shiloh?”

Shiloh snorted. “I don’t feel it in my stomach.” It was in her chest, tightening as if hurting her so she couldn’t do anything but pay attention. She hated when her anxiety acted up. It was rare enough that her doctors refused to up the dosage of her medication but when it hit her, it was hard to ignore. Maybe she hadn’t fully recovered from the events at the beach. She followed Deirdre just cause she didn’t know what to do and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight. “I don’t see any dog…” Shiloh said as she looked into the alleyway. It wasn’t dark enough where she needed the flashlight but maybe Deirdre didn’t have the best eyesight. Shiloh wasn’t supposed to either, hence the glasses but that was one secret she could keep so the light would stay. Something moved from one trash bag to the other. Quickly. Shiloh stopped, grabbing Deirdre’s arm. “Hold on. It moved really fast. A dog would have just stepped out and started barking or growling.” What animal that big tries to hide? Shiloh stepped in front of Deirdre, calling out to the dog. “We’re not gonna hurt you buddy. You hungry?” Shiloh stepped closer, cautiously. And what stepped out of the dumpster startled her. “Whoa, what the fuck.” She stepped back, bumping into Deirdre.

Deirdre quirked her brow at Shiloh, waiting for more of an explanation that didn’t come. Maybe she really hated mimes, but she seemed more than fine during their date. Of course, not that Deirdre particularly cared one way or the other. Human problems were for humans, she just wanted to get home and drink more wine. She turned to leave, giving up on their haphazard search for a dog when Shiloh gripped her arm, and the banshee flinched. Her head whipped around to try and figure out what Shiloh was staring at, in the dark, shapes were understandably hard to make out. “I don’t see what you’re talking about…” she trailed off, noting first Shiloh’s reaction than the place she was looking. Standing on top of the dull green dumpster was a gangly, vaguely humanoid dog. Large and thin and hairless and not something she wanted to keep looking at. And yet, she stared. “Shiloh,” she turned to her date, “are you seeing what I’m seeing?” She pointed up, then dropped her hand away to make sure she didn’t obscure the site of an unmistakable blood-stained stiff mime face. Not a dog. Definitely not a dog. The creature jerked forward with eerie silence, and Deirdre flinched again. “Very funny. I suppose this is a mime aftershow?” She tilted her body, the remains of some animal sat at the other end of the dumpster, dripping wet blood down in rhythmic plops. “Shiloh, I take that back, I don’t think this is the mime aftershow.”

Shiloh remained silent, trying to make sense of what she was looking at. She couldn’t. She wanted to believe it was an after show but while the mimes were strange, they didn’t have any blood on them nor showed any signs that they might have blood. Maybe it’s tomato sauce but once again, Shiloh knew that sauce didn’t look like that at all. Unable to figure out what that was, her brain decided to overlook the strangeness - to not scream - to remain calm. We don’t know what it is. We’ll get back to you. For now. Don’t let your guard down. “Let’s back up.” Shiloh whispered to Deirdre, turning her head over her shoulder, but not refusing to break sight of - whatever the fuck that is. “Slowly.” Shiloh emphasized as she took a step back, hopefully Deirdre would take the hint to start backing the hell up. The more Shiloh stared the more she hated what she was looking at. Shiloh wasn’t a fighter, she’d always prefer to disengage and she could only hope that Deirdre and her will live to laugh about something like this in the future. Very near future. Please. She wanted all these weird things to stop.

Back up. Slowly. These were illogical statements coming from a coward’s mouth. What did Deirdre have to fear? A banshee of her stature was invincible, or the next closest thing. The creature didn’t even appear to be looking at them...or maybe it was, Deirdre really couldn’t tell. When the only expresion it made was stiff cheer, etched into what she could only assume was a bizarrely small mime mask, there was little to go off. “But my car is on that side,” she emphasized, growing haughty. And most importantly, the animal remains were behind the creature. She couldn’t see what animal it was from where she was standing, and she desperately wanted to know. “It’s just an animal,” she said, bending over to loosen a heel off her foot. “Animals can be scared off.” And with all the sense of a woman who thought the world of herself, she threw her heel against the creatures lanky body only to watch it bounce off and thud lamely onto the ground. The creature took a jerky step forward, and then another, and another. Deirdre stood her ground petulantly, and she looked over at Shiloh as the creature’s long tongue darted out of...what she assumed would be its mouth, except it wasn’t where a mouth ought to be. It took another jilted step forward--hand, hand, then foot, foot. Then the creature moved a little quicker. Hand, foot. Hand, foot. It contorted to look at the two of them. Deirdre held her other heel at the ready. “Oh, piss off, like I’m scared of a mime-dog.” 

“Don’t throw your shoe at it, please.” Not that Shiloh thought the shoe would do anything but why would they bother this weird… thing. But Deirdre seemed set on passing by it and Shiloh could do nothing but try and make sure they got there safely. So… instead of backwards they had to go forward. The last thing she wanted to do was have a dog attack them but here they are. She took a deep breath calming herself down which was getting even more difficult as she saw it’s jerky movements. Jesus Christ, can all this stop? “Dogs bite, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. A trip to the ER is not how I thought the night would end so if we could just keep going and not throw shoes at the dog or whatever.” Shiloh put a firm grip on Deirdre’s hand that held the heel. They walked closer and closer. Everything was fine, everything would be fine. Until the damn thing moved too quickly, alarming Shiloh and she practically tugged at Deirdre to keep up. She felt something hit her foot and looked down. She didn’t see exactly what it was but it was metal and felt sturdy. She grabbed it and just blindly swung with strength she wasn’t fully aware she had.

Don’t throw her shoe. Who did Shiloh think she was? Deirdre would throw whatever she wanted. No weird dog-mime-human-monster-animal could stop her. Except that Shiloh was keeping her from trying again, and then she was pulling her back. And the fae found all the panic to be endearing in the way it was in humans; all the fluster for no reason. And then Shiloh did something surprising, in the way that humans never were. Picking up an axe, she swung and Deirdre watched as a bling swing cleaver perfectly at the base of a mime-mask face. The face rolled away, but the familiar drop--like a bead into honey, sinking and sinking until it was swallowed whole--didn’t come. The creature wasn’t dead, and Deirdre tugged at Shiloh, demanding that she look up and gaze at the same incredulous sight. Out of inky dark, the place its face once held, twisted and puckered out another identical face. Deirdre expected a pop, something to show that she’d really just seen a face ooze back out of an impossible black body, but there was no sound. Nothing. “S-shiloh…” Now, Deirdre was starting to feel a little something (she was too proud to call it fear, but things ought to die when they lose their heads). “I think...maybe…” she blinked, “d-did you see that?” The creature hadn’t moved, and its soulless eyes reflected no pain or malice. The discarded animal carcass was the last thing she was thinking about now. “I think we should run.”

Oh my god. She cut off the head. She cut off the head. What the fuck. Shiloh swallowed roughly, hand gripping the axe, unsure of what else to do. That was the end of it right? You behead something it dies. Right? Oh god, not another weird thing again. Oh, it’s growing its head back. Please stop. Shiloh had to look away, she couldn’t watch it. “I saw.” She said, her lip beginning to tremble. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. “Yes, please, let’s run to your car.” Even though the axe did nothing to the monster (if it could regenerate a head, what else could it regenerate) she still held it tightly, oddly comforted by it. As they got to Deirdre’s car, she realized she was still holding it. “Um.” She picked it up, examining it in the light. it was all rusted how the hell did it even cut? Shiloh just dropped it aside and got into the car. “Can you take me home now, please?” She really didn’t want to talk about what they saw. In fact, she wanted to go home and never come outside again. 

Fates, Deirdre wished she pulled that animal carcass as they ran by the creature, and barreled into her car (which was far too nice to be barreling into in the first place). If she was going to sit through beheading a mine-dog-animal-person-creature, she might as well get some bones out of it. “How are you---” her voice caught, she glanced over at Shiloh and the axe, seeing what she saw. Rusted. Dull. Not strong enough to do what Shiloh just did with it. Odd, but not what she needed to be thinking of right now. Her sighed and turned on her car, trying to steady her breath as it fluttered to life. “Yes. Home.” Shiloh didn’t seem talkative, which suited Deirdre just fine---mourning the loss of her animal remains, coping with her denial of watching something die, stewing in her thoughts of Shiloh and her rusted axe---she could do without speaking. As she drove, she said only one thing: “Let’s never eat at that fucking mime restaurant again.”

#wickedswriting #c: shiloh #THIS WAS A GREAT TIME #SO FRIENDLY #SO MUCH FRIEND ACTIVITY #WE LOVE FRIENDS :)

[endlesspicsofmm]

How to choose a good cookware

Here, by telling you all the secrets of pots and pans, we will be more sincere than a home shopping, because we do not want to sell you anything, but simply give you some tips on how to buy the best of essential items for home cooking and not. By probing the characteristics of pots and pans, we discover a larger and more complicated world than it seems at first. These are tools in which the food we eat is found, so the choice is also linked by a double thread to our health, because they also come into play in the dynamics linked to the toxicity of production materials.

What to look for in a set of best cookware

What should you consider when buying a set of kitchen utensils? Here are the main features to keep in mind.

Material

The material and construction of your cookware is important. This affects durability, price and quality (and where) you can cook.

The non-stick pans are coated with polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE), usually Teflon. When used at high temperatures, they can release toxic fumes into the air. So, to be safe, you will want to use them at low temperatures only (500 ° F or less). However, they are very resistant to adhesion and therefore easy to clean.

Stainless steel cookware is safe for cooktops and ovens, dishwasher safe and very durable. It also tends to be in the middle of the road when it comes to price. However, it can lose heat if it is not reinforced with aluminum or copper.

Ceramic coated cookware is another option for those who want something non-sticky. Unlike fully ceramic cookware, which can only go in the oven, ceramic coated cookware is usually made of metal (aluminum or stainless steel) which has a ceramic coating. It is not as durable as Teflon coated cookware, but some prefer it.

Copper pots and pans heat up the fastest, but they are very expensive, require regular maintenance and polishing, and do not work with induction cooktops.

Cast iron pans can be used anywhere (on the stove, oven, broiler and even on the grill). They are also extremely durable. However, they do not heat uniformly, they are heavy and bulky, and it takes more work to clean them.

Aluminum is light, affordable and scratch resistant. It works on stoves and ovens, but if not anodized, it can give a metallic taste to your food.

To choose the best material for your pots and pans, think about what is important to you. Where do you cook most often (on the stove or in the oven)? Is ease of cleaning more important to you than temperature control?

Price

Kitchen battery sets can cost anywhere from $ 80 to $ 1,500, with the average price of a set being a few hundred dollars.

To get the best price for your cookware, it is again important to consider your needs. If you don't cook often, a budget could work. However, if you want more control over your cooking, a more expensive option can make you much happier. In general, more expensive assemblies last longer, but it mostly depends on the material used (the inclusion of copper tends to increase the cost of stainless steel assemblies, but it also improves their thermal conductivity).

Be wary of buying large sets, as the number of pots and pans also drives up prices. Do not let a 14 or 17 piece set attract you if you will never use most of the items. Instead, opt for a more practical set of 10 or 12 pieces.

Versatility

Kitchen battery sets include a variety of sizes and types of kitchen batteries. Some are also made to go in the oven.

Think carefully about what you expect from your cookware. If you cook regularly on the stove and in the oven, you need a device that is compatible with both. Look for stainless steel, cast iron, copper, and aluminum sets. If your recipes tend to rely more on the stove only, a nonstick set might be all you need.

Also, think about the recipes you use. If you create a lot of sauces, a set with more pans may be more beneficial to you than one with additional hotplates and steamers.

Why do I need a set of better cookware?

In theory, a set of cooking pots seems like a great idea, but do you really need it? If any of the following describes you, chances are you will need a set of cookware.

You must replace several cookware at the same time. If you've found yourself in a situation where multiple pots and pans have been lost or worn out, it can often be more profitable to buy a new set of kitchen utensils than to buy individual parts.

You move into a house. If you are moving into your own home, you will need your own pots and pans for cooking. A set of kitchen utensils is a perfect housewarming gift for you, or anyone else in a similar position, such as honeymooners and graduates.

You have a tight budget. Typically, a set of kitchen pans is much cheaper than buying the ten items separately. This is because the manufacturers design these items to work as a whole, and they may be slightly smaller in size than the parts on their own. Although you may need to randomly purchase items for special recipes, such as a cast-iron skillet for fajitas or a slow cooker for meal preparation, the cookware will meet most cooking needs.

When don't you need cookware? If you already have a good selection of pots and pans, it probably makes more sense to buy new ones, rather than buying a whole new set that can clutter up your kitchen.

Types of cookware

Stainless steel

One of the most common types of stainless steel cookware you will find, and for good reason. It does not rust, stain or reacts to the cooking of acidic foods. It can also withstand high temperatures and can be used on induction hobs. While stainless steel tends to be on the price side, pots can be made cheaper by making the sides of the pots thinner, while high-end pots tend to have thicker sides and are generally more heavy.

Some high-end stainless steels are actually a plated material, with layers of other metals sandwiched inside the stainless steel to provide the cooking benefits of these metals with the ease of stainless steel. Some stainless steel cookware has a disc attached to the bottom of the pan which offers some of the same benefits as plated cookware at a lower price. Although stainless steel is generally dishwasher safe, you should consult the manufacturer's cleaning instructions to be sure.

Coated aluminum

Although uncoated aluminum is not a desirable material for cookware, coated aluminum is ideal because non-stick materials readily adhere to metal, thereby protecting the aluminum and making the coating more durable. In addition to having a non-stick interior coating, some aluminum cookware has an anodized exterior that hardens the metal, creates a colored surface, and protects the exterior from stains and corrosion. Anodized cookware usually has a non-stick coating on the inside or a thin layer of stainless steel on the inside, so that no part of the aluminum is exposed. Aluminum cannot be used on induction cooktops unless the cookware has a stainless steel disc on the bottom to allow the induction cooktop to recognize it. Although some non-stick aluminum cookware is dishwasher safe, you should check with the manufacturer to make sure.

Melting

Cast iron retains heat well, making it ideal for searing, frying, baking and braising, and will keep food warm after cooking is complete. It is also very heavy, so it is not as easy to move around the stove or enter and exit the warehouse. Cast iron cookware can be coated or not, but both are compatible with the induction cooktop.

Uncoated cast iron cookware requires special care and cleaning, but often comes pre-seasoned, so it can be used right away. Further cooking and seasoning will make it even more non-stick over time. Uncoated cast iron should generally not be used with acidic foods like tomatoes, but well-seasoned casseroles can tolerate certain acidic foods for short periods of time. Uncoated cast iron cookware is nearly indestructible and can usually be used on the stove, in the oven, on the grill, and possibly even over a campfire, but it should be hand washed and may require occasional retry.

Coated cast iron cookware, usually covered with layers of enameled material, never needs seasoning and can be used safely with acidic foods. Some cast iron cookware has a bright, enameled exterior and a rough, mat interior that looks like uncoated cast iron but is impermeable to acidic foods. Some coated cast iron cookware is dishwasher safe, but you should check with the manufacturer to make sure dishwasher detergent can damage the coating.

Copper

Copper is a metal that is very sensitive to heat, so it heats and cools quickly. Unfortunately, it also reacts to acidic foods and discolors over time and use, which requires maintenance to maintain its shiny appearance. Some copper cookware only has a thin layer of copper on the outside of the pan, which is purely aesthetic, but high-quality copper cookware is made entirely of copper, often with a thin layer of tin or stainless steel inside to be used with any type of food. Real copper cookware is not compatible with induction cooktops, but stainless steel cookware with decorative copper coating should be compatible with induction.

Steel

Although steel pans are not as common as other materials for household cookware, carbon steel and blue steel is sometimes used for woks and other specialty pans. Cookware should be seasoned before use and oiled after cooking to prevent rusting during storage. Enamelled steel cookware is no longer as common today as it once was, but it is still found occasionally, especially in large pots used for canning in a double boiler. The enamel coating protects the steel from rust, but if the coating flakes or cracks, it can rust. Steel cookware should be compatible with induction, but if the material is extremely thin.

Also Read on :  [TOP 5] Best Blue Diamond Cookware Review

[fic-xation]

Spicing It Up

Sam proposes something a little unorthodox for his and Max’s night off. But is it too much for even Max to handle? Archive of our Own

"Uh-huh? ... Yeah. Oh, yeah. Absolutely... Ah, Mahzeltov! ... Well, give her my best. Goodbye, sir."

"Well?" Max asked, anxiously popping his head out from the crowded confines of their office trash can. Their usual scuffle over the phone always landed him in the strangest of places... "What'd the commissioner say?"

Sam, shaking his head, hung up the receiver.

"Sorry, lil' buddy. No aliens, demons, mutants, or some unholy amalgamation of the three."

"What about a ponzi scheme?!" Max rocketed himself from the trashcan, snagging at Sam's collar in a panicked frenzy. "Embezzlement?! ... Hell, I'll even settle for mild insurance fraud, jut gimme SOMETHING, man! Anything!"

With the air of one casually removing a tick, Sam snagged at Max's ears, and plucked him from his lapel.

"Nothin' doin', Max. There isn't even so much as a WHISPER of crime tonight."

Tossing his friend to one side, Sam crossed over towards the open window, his hands comfortably nestled in their respective pockets.

"Seems as if the city that never sleeps is taking a much needed power nap." he said thoughtfully.

His partner, however, was far from thoughtful.

"... AaaaaAAAHHHH, I CAN'T TAKE THE SILENCE, SAM!! I need chaos! I need mayhem! I need some sense of superiority as I beat the snot out of some slimy smuggler!"

With a faintly groan, Max collapsed, face-first, against the floor. Sam, meanwhile, merely observed him, scratching at his doggish ear with a contemplative sort of expression.

"... Well..." Sam slid the window shut. "If you're REALLY eager for something to do... We could, uh..." he cleared his throat, awkwardly straightening his tie. "Y'know... Spend some 'quality' time together..."

Max's despair seemed to vanish as quickly as it'd appeared. Scrambling to his feet, he race over towards Sam, leaping into his unsuspecting arms like a bride readying to cross the threshold.

"Why SAMMY, you dirty dog..." Max cooed, snuggling up to his partner's broad chest. "Why didn't you just SAY so?"

He gave a saccharine giggle of mock, girlish delight, coyly tracing little circles against the fabric of Sam's tie.

"What did you have in mind? ... Ooh! Why don't we break into the aquarium again and have a brief make-out sesh in the shark tank?"

"Ehh," Sam shrugged. "I don't think so... I always get the feeling those great whites are enjoying it far more than they should..."

"Fair enough... Oh! How's about a game of ~French Maid Shooting the Balls Off a Nazi Officer?~" Max's smile then faded slightly. "Wait, no, I tore up my fishnet stockings after that caper in Reno last week... Ooh, I got it! How about you leave me handcuffed to the bed, forcing me to relive my mysterious childhood trauma as I desperately struggle for survival?" Max seemed to salivate at the very idea. "Oh my god... HOT..."

"... Actually..." Sam gave a sheepish little smile. "I was thinking we could try something... Different."

"Oooh!" Max flashed a carnivorous grin. "Spicing it up, I see! Do tell!"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, before snapping it shut with a bashful whine. Whatever this idea was, it was evidently too embarrassing to speak aloud. Chewing his lower lip, Sam gestured for Max to come closer. Max, kicking his elongated feet excitedly, happily obliged, gleefully leaning in as Sam finally mustered the courage to whisper his proposal.

Max's smile melted like an ice cube on a frying pan. Mouth agape, he suddenly drew back from Sam's embrace.

"... Y-you're... You're not SERIOUS, right?"

"We don't have to try it if you don't want to!" Sam said hurriedly, waving his hands. "I-it was just a thought!"

"... Yeah, but... Why THAT?" Max seemed repulsed by the very notion. "It's just... It's so... Ugh! I can't even SAY it!"

"I know it's a little... out of the norm for us-" Sam said, settling himself onto a chair as he shyly rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... y'know..."

"... Are you bored with our usual shtick?" Max looked almost hurt by the idea.

Sam's ears pricked up almost at once.

"No! No, buddy, far from it! ... I was only thinkin'... Maybe if we TRIED it, we might wind up likin' it... We wouldn't make a habit of it, of course, but..." he trailed off, lowering the brim of his hat down over his eyes. "... Nothing. Forget I even-"

"Do YOU wanna try it?"

... A surprisingly straightforward question, considering it was Max.

With a sputter of surprise, Sam felt the heat rise against his muzzle. Squaring his shoulders, he hurriedly glanced away.

"... Th-that... That's not really impor-"

"Up-up-up!" Max swatted a finger against Sam's lip. "Shut it, Sam, I've heard enough. Look, if you REALLY wanna give this... THING a shot, I'm in."

Sam finally returned his gaze to Max, eyes wide.

"But... But I thought-"

"Well, QUIT thinkin', or you'll work yourself into a freakin' tizzy! And mind you, I don't use the word 'tizzy' that often." Max reached up, readjusting Sam's hat to its proper angle. "... At the risk of sounding like some pouty-faced teen in a bad chick-flick, I..." he glanced down, fidgeting with his hands. "... Well, I trust you. You wanna do something, so I'll try it. If I like it, great. If I don't, I get to take a baseball bat to your kneecaps. Win-win!"

"... When did a baseball bat enter into the equation?" Sam smiled slightly.

"It's called 'incentive,' Sam." Max huffed, folding his arms. "So, we got a deal?" Sam's chuckled lightly, patting a gentle paw to the crown of Sam's head.

"Okay, lil' buddy... If you insist."

~~

Two hours later, Max found himself in the desolate hallway of their building, just outside their office door, feeling increasingly foolish with every passing second. Swallowing hard, he tugged at the faux pearls lining his throat. In spite of his bravado earlier, the whole ordeal made him uncharacteristically nervous... THIS was new territory for him and Sam... Sure, they'd been married almost eleven times, did the horizontal bop practically every hour, and fooled around with everything from jumper cables to piggy banks... but THIS...

This wasn't just spicing things up, this was dousing it in tabasco sauce before lighting it on fire... 

"Saaa-aaaam-" he whined aloud, hurriedly glancing over his shoulders. "C'mon, aren't you ready YET?"

God forbid any of their neighbors, (least of all Flint Paper) should see him like this... Not that he didn't look amazing. All these years later, and he could STILL rock his old prom dress like an absolute queen... It was just the context of the outfit that made it feel... weird...

And the cheap Taiwanese plastic of the jewelry rubbing up against his fur probably didn't help either.

"Just one more sec, pal!" Sam called back, and suddenly, there came the muffled noise of a clattering misstep, followed by a hefty THUMP.

Curious, Max raised a brow.

"... Ya still alive in there?"

"... J-just lost my footing!" Sam hollered, and Max, with a faint giggle, could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

'... Clumsy goof...' He thought fondly, straightening the candy-colored lace of his hem. Just then, the door swung open, and Max, glancing up, barely troubled to suppress his laughter.

A holdover from their 25th anniversary at the Inventory, Sam was all dolled up in his best, (and probably ONLY) tux; all in black, with a prominent bowtie and tophat replacing their casual counterparts.

"... Look, I didn't have the time OR the money for a new suit, okay?" Sam grumbled, scowling at Max's derisive mirth.

"H-hey! It's important to recycle!" chuckled Max, wiping away a tear as he strolled across the threshold. As soon as the door closed behind him, however, he suddenly took stock of Sam's... 'renovation.'

It quickly became clear why the whole elaborate set-up took close to two hours. The office was cleaner than Max'd ever seen it, (though, admittedly, most of the clutter had just been shoved up against the walls.) In the center stood their rarely used ping-pong table, made only somewhat classier by a red sheet posing as a tablecloth. The lights'd been dimmed, and the shudders drawn, leaving only the rust-stained candelabra as the main source of illumination. Max's nostrils twitched, and he caught a familiar blend of tomatoes, diced onions, and oregano.

Spaghetti sauce.

... Romantic spaghetti sauce... Romantic spaghetti sauce with romantic outfits and romantic mood lighting... How could it get any worse?

"Oh, I hope you don't mind-" Sam's voice cut through Max's train of thought. "I found one of my Sinatra CDs while I was cleaning. Would it be alright if I...?" he trailed off, smiling all too hopefully.

Sinatra. Of course. The perfect soundtrack for any romantic setting.

Max did his best to smile in spite of the anxiety twisting his stomach.

"Sinatra? Sure! Put him on! Ol' blue eyes! Swoonatra! Chairman of the board! After all, the guy's been married four times! Who better to serenade our... d... d-d.." the very word seem to swell Max's tongue. Dry-heaving, he promptly struck his own gut.

"D-DATE! OUR DATE!" he finally choked, gasping for air as he pressed his hands to his knees.

... The relief of finally verbalizing it was dampened slightly by the palpably awkward silence that followed.

"... You good, buddy?" asked Sam, worryingly. Max hurriedly straightened up, forcing a smile with such manic intensity that his left eye began to twitch.

"You betcha! I'm great! I'm better than great! I'm about to have a romantic candle-lit dinner with my... s... s-sweetheart..." Max felt the blood rush to his face, but he bared his teeth, determined to persist. People used cutesy terminology during these things, right? Sam was probably expecting it by this point.

"... I-isn't that right? ... My little... Er... Sh-shumbly... w-wubbles?"

... Max would've given six of his own ribs to crawl under that table and never be seen by anyone ever again.

"... Y'know-" Sam smiled, though not unkindly, as he placed a gentle hand to Max's rigid shoulder. "You don't have to talk like that if it makes you uncomfortable... Heck-" he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "It's kinda makin' ME uncomfortable..."

Max exhaled, his body going limp.

"Oh, thank GOD... No offense, Sam, but I just can't do the cutesy-wutesy crap... At least NOT unironically."

"I'd have to agree," nodded Sam, pulling out a chair for his partner. "Watching you trying to be purposefully adorable is like pulling teeth."

"Um, I beg to differ, Sam." Max hopped up onto the chair, the length of his legs barely making it past the edge of the seat. "Pulling teeth is both exhilarating and vaguely erotic. What I did a moment ago was just..." he gave a faint shudder. "Creepy..."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he carefully pushed Max in.

"Well, that aside, I DO appreciate your willingness to give this a shot, Max. Just remember, if it gets to be too much, you can tap out at any time." He fetched a comforting smile, playfully tussling the space between Max's ears. "Don't forget, our safeword is 'subvert.'"

"Aaah, subvert." mused Max, settling back against his chair. "My favorite variety of 'vert,' second only to 'per.'"

"Noodle-head." Sam chortled. Leaning over, he planted a soft kiss to Max's cheek, briefly savoring the familiarly fluffy texture against his lips. Max, with a sigh, contentedly leaned into it, a slow smile stretching across his face.

... Maybe this 'conventional' date night wouldn't be so bad...

"Oh, speaking of which-" Sam straightened up, breaking the kiss almost as soon as it'd begun. "I better check on the pasta before it burns."

"Ohhhh," groaned Max, reaching his arms out like a needy toddler. "Can't we just skip the food and play tonsil-hockey for an hour?"

"Your vividly grotesque idioms for making out are strangely winsome, Max." Sam commented, crossing through into the next room.

While his partner made himself busy, Max tried his best to occupy his sporadic attention, absent-mindedly studying the slender prongs of his laid-out fork.

'... I wonder how far I could get this up my nose...' he pondered, before hurriedly shaking his head. 'No, no... No zaniness... Sam wants a nice, romantic evening, and by God's left nipple, I WILL DELIVER!'

... But there was that word again... Romantic... There was just something to it, some sense of unease that dangled from the phrase like a booger. But then again, maybe it wasn't the word, but rather the aesthetic that came with it. Hearts, flowers, naked cherubs and giggling waifs and long walks on the beach... It was just all so...

'Disgusting? Stupid? Flagrantly artificial?'

... Embarrassing....

Maybe it was just because he and Sam never had to experience the awkwardness of a first date. They'd grown up together, and once they finally took their relationship to the next level, their lives just became one long, uninterrupted honeymoon phase. There was never any anxiety over impressing the other, no charade of exemplary manners.

Now, they were on a REAL date...

And Max had to suffer all the emotional torment that came with it.

"Hot stuff, comin' through!"

Max gave a slight start. Quickly setting down the fork, he watched as Sam reentered the office, a saucer of steaming spaghetti on each hand.

"I'll say you are." Max smirked, disguising his surprise behind a snide little wink.

"Aw, hush." scoffed Sam, smiling modestly as he placed their dinner towards their respective ends. Moving over towards the CD player atop his desk, Sam carefully slid the Sinatra disk into place, before hurriedly switching to his favorite track.

"~Every kiss, every hug

seems to act just like a drug.

You're getting to be a habit with me.

Let me stay in your arms,

I'm addicted to your charms.

You're getting to be a habit with me.~"

"How apropos," sneered Max, as the honey voice filled the space.

"Eh, what can I say?" Sam winked in return. "I'm a sucker for theming."

Briefly retreating under the table, Sam soon withdrew a small ice bucket housing a bottle of something pink and bubbly. Holding it at arm's length, Sam popped off the cork, taking care not to spill too much froth.

"... Champagne, eh?" Max smiled, a little uneasily, as Sam poured out their glasses. "... Gee, you, uh... Ya really went all out, huh?"

"Well, go big or go home, right?" Sam said, sounding somewhat unsure. Sliding the bottle back into the bucket, he took his seat opposite Max, suddenly looking around as if having noticed something.

"... Did I overdo it?"

"What? ... Oh, no! No!" Max shook his head. "No, I didn't mean that in a bad way! I'm just..." 'Intimidated?' "... Flattered that you went to so much trouble, that's all!"

Sam relaxed, taking a small sip from his drink, before chuckling. "... Heh... Well, I guess this is what you'd call a childhood fantasy."

"... Really?" Max raised an eyebrow.

"Sure," Sam bowed his head bashfully, his muzzle shifting from brown to red. "I'm only a little ashamed to say so, but ever since my blossoming adolescence, it's been a secret dream of mine to treat my special someone to a hand-crafted night of atmospheric intimacy."

Max pressed a hand to his chest. That was.. surprisingly kind of touching...

"... What are you, a girl? Who refers to themselves as blossoming?"

Much like any knee jerk reaction, the quip was out before he even had a chance to think. Ears standing on end, he clenched his fists so hard against the table that the cloth began to bunch under his fingers. This wasn't right, this wasn't romantic... If the circumstances had been different, it would've been fine. Hell, it would've been expected... But this was a DATE, people aren't supposed to make fun of their dates!

"But I DID blossom," continued Sam, completely unfazed. "I blossomed like a beanstalk. What's YOUR excuse, pint-size?"

Max heaved a sigh, releasing his snag on the wrinkled cloth.

'I've served as the racket for games of tennis that were less stressful than this...' he thought, snatching at his glass, and downing the drink in one quick-fire gulp.

"... You doin' okay, buddy?" Sam said, and all at once, Max felt as if his hand were encased in an oversized catcher's mitt. Max looked up, and saw Sam's platter-sized paw gently caressing his apple-sized fist.

All at once, inspiration took hold; a chance for redemption.

... Or further mortification, depending on how you looked at it. For Max, the odds were pretty split.

Nevertheless, Max screwed up his courage, clutching at Sam's hand with both of his own, he yanked at his partner's arm, drawing the knuckles to his mouth...

... And kissing them.

It was light, clumsy, and about as awkward as a grade school play, but he managed, hurriedly throwing Sam's hand aside like a used snot rag before slumping back against his seat.

Sam, meanwhile, just sat like an open-mouthed totem pole, slowly glancing between Max, and his hand. 

Was that a good reaction?

... Then, quite out of the blue, Sam was chuckling. That special husky, back-of-the-throat sort of chortle that Max typically adored, but was NOW making him feel about as hot as a steamed vegetable, and just as stupid.

"Don't laugh!" he snapped, though something in him was grateful for the sound breaking the tension.

"S... sorry, Max..." Sam snickered. "I-it's just... I haven't seen you blush like that since our ninth honeymoon."

Max's beady eyes narrowed. "... What're you talking about?"

"Oh, come on..." Sam smirked, leaning against his elbow. "You remember."

Max's eyes suddenly went wide.

"... Oh, good Lord Sam-" he whimpered, ears drooped. "Not that, please-"

"Now what WAS it?" Sam playfully pondered, scratching at his chin. "What WAS that little word...?"

"Sam, I beg you-" Max slid further into his seat, his aforementioned blush only deepening. "Please, no!"

"That magic little four syllable phrase-"

"Sam-"

"That rarely used pet name that makes you crumble like a Jenga tower-"

"SAM!"

"Hm?" Sam finally looked towards Max, still smiling his complacent little smile. "Something amiss, my little Lago-Muffin?"

... As soon as it was out in the open, Max wasted no time, slamming his face into the plate of spaghetti with a low, muffled groan. Sauce went flying in all directions, but he didn't care.

He hated Sam.

He hated that stupid nickname.

And he hated how much he loved both of them and how weak they ultimately made him...

"... So you DO remember." Sam piped up, evidently proud of himself. He slid a noodle from Max's scalp, before slurping it up with a satisfied gulp. "I know I remember. You and I had just nabbed the infamous Pinwheel Purloiner, and were celebrating over a chocolate malt. The whole set up was so beautifully Rockwellian that I called you that as a joke... But, low and behold, you purred like James Dean's motorcycle makin' sweet love to Martha Stewart's blender."

"... Done in by a lousy play on words." Max mumbled into the pasta. "... How humiliating..."

"Nah," beamed Sam, raising Max's head up by his ears. "On the contrary, I find it rather endearing." Taking a moment to observe his partner, he added, "Sheesh, Max... ya look like a tomato..."

"Don't remind me," Max grumbled, eyes downcast. Sam shook his head.

"No, I mean ya got sauce all over your face. Here-"

Lifting him up and across the table, Sam drew Max into his lap. Plucking at a napkin, he then began to smother it against Max's unwitting cheek.

"Agh-! S-Sam!" Max sputtered, writhing like a dug-up grub. "Quit it!"

Sam paused.

"Lago-Muffin."

‘... God dammit.’

Max's eyes turned to comical spirals as he slumped against Sam's stomach in a love-struck daze. Satisfied, Sam was able to finish his cleaning before Max came to.

"... That nickname NEVER leaves this room, understood?" Max growled, still red-faced despite the lack of pasta sauce. Sam gave a soft guffaw,

"Whatever you say, Max. Do ya want me to put you ba-"

"No." said Max stoutly, folding his arms. "I live on your lap now."

"... For all intents and purposes, that may as well be true." Sam considered, spooling a strand on pasta onto his fork, before passing it along to Max. Max happily obliged, snaring the fork between his razor-like teeth like a shark.

Just then, Sam's CD reached the final track of the album.

"~I won't dance.

Don't ask me.

I won't dance.

Don't ask me.

I won't dance,

Madame, with you.~"

And once again, Max was granted an idea.

This time, however, with more confidence.

Leaping to the floor, he bowed slightly, offering out his hand in an all-too romantic fashion.

"Sinatra may not dance, but I'd like to." He grinned. "... Care to join me?"

The outright coolness of the gesture was enough to surprise them both. But while Max kept his composure, it was Sam's turn to look flustered. Blushing, he nervously tugged at his bowtie.

"... W-what, uh... what brought this on?"

"Eh," Max shrugged. "I've already been humiliated beyond belief... Twice now, in fact! So, I figure... third time's the charm, right? ... Besides..." He gently threaded their fingers together, urging Sam onto his feet. "... I'm a sucker for theming."

... Maybe the awkwardness of a first date wasn't so bad. Heck, maybe Max was even better at this romance thing than he thought! He'd just have to keep at it if he wanted to get any better.

But that was alright. After all...

Max didn't mind spicing things up every once in a while.

~~

An entire fanfic inspired by a single throwaway line of @supermary64‘s marvelously charming prom comic!

Hope you lovelies enjoyed it!

#sam and max #sam and max freelance police #freelance husbands #I might have gone a little insane writing this #but I'd like to write more #not just Sam and Max but for other media I enjoy #we'll just have to wait and see #<3 #fanfic #fanfiction

[dubsdeedubs]

A Thousand Natural Shocks [16/16]

[AO3]  

[A/N:  I don’t even know what to say.  I... wrote up a lot more on AO3, and I recommend that you read this there because this is 10,405 words (!!!)

Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy the ride for one last time.]

Summary: Thirty years ago, Stanley Pines made a deal. Now, in the wake of Bill’s defeat and his brother’s disappearance, Ford begins to unravel Stan’s dark secrets

With each passing minute, Ford sunk further into the gaping maw of the beast.

It was entirely too late to escape, he realized with quiet resignation. There was simply no fight in him anymore. He had been foolish enough to lower his guard in the monster's presence, and now he was paying for it with his life.

That, and there was some deep, dark part of him that very much welcomed the knowledge that he had no options left - that, after everything, there was nothing he could do to save himself this time.

Ford closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come.

There was the heavy sound of approaching footsteps.

"Huh," he heard, and, "...You look comfy."

"Hrmg," Ford said eloquently, and pressed his face into the plush armrest. Even without the benefit of sight, he could feel the look his brother gave him like a physical thing.

Stanley leaned heavily on the back of the armchair, and the cushion sagged obligingly. "...Don't have a lot of chairs as nice as this out there in the multiverse, huh?" He asked casually.

Familiar, immature annoyance flickered back into life for a brief moment. "No, Stanley. In fact, I haven't had much comfort in general for the past thirty years," he said crossly.

...The effect of his words was somewhat undercut by how the majority of his lower body was currently propped up above his head and his voice was muffled behind his sweater neck, which was a full inch of unwashed alien wool.

His brother looked distinctly unimpressed.

"I suppose," Ford muttered after a moment, and slid down another humiliating inch.

And, alright. If he had to be honest, and he supposed he should be in the sanctity of his own thoughts, it really was a fine couch. Certainly not just because the only other in recent memory had been constructed by Bill Cipher from an unholy combination of human flesh and demonic magic.

In a moment of sudden clarity, he could understand perfectly why and how his brother could spend the majority of his free time reclining here, watching a nice, mindless cartoon duck series or two.

It was a tempting thought, and certainly, there were worse sins than sloth to add to his own budding collection.

...Ford wondered fleetingly if this truly was some kind of human flesh eating cryptid, ready to ensnare any victim foolish enough to take a seat. Stranger things had happened in this house, and it would explain a great deal indeed.

"Got it for ten bucks at a garage sale," Stan muttered nostalgically. "Well, I would've gotten it for ten bucks if I didn't steal it right out of the guy's house. Found a big ol' tomato sauce stain right under the cushion afterwards, though. Serves me right, I guess."

He paused thoughtfully. "...Least, I hope it was tomato sauce. I dunno. Guess that would explain why this thing was so cheap."

Ford winced, feeling a lot less comfortable pressing his face into the armrest than he did just thirty seconds earlier - but still not nearly enough to move. "That's horrifying," he muttered, voice muffled.

"Well I mean, not anymore. I've gotten much worse stains than that out of stuff with a whole lot less, y'know." Stan crossed his legs nonchalantly, and grimaced. "Paul Bunyan, these pants are tryin' to kill me," he announced. "Can you believe I used to fit in these, no problem?"

Ford... really, really could not believe they were having this conversation.

The universe had nearly ended. They had nearly died (or something very much worse that he really would like not to think about, thank you very much.) By any sensible standards, the past fifteen minutes of mindless chatter was entirely pointless and an obvious waste of time.

Surely, after everything they had gone through, with everything that still needed to be said, shouldn't he and his brother have more to say to each other than some truly ridiculous small-talk?

Stan poked him in the side. "...You fallin' asleep on me, Sixer?"

"It would be a miracle if I was," Ford retorted immediately, turning his face just enough to give his brother a well-deserved glare with one eye. "Considering those tights you're wearing must have the same blinding intensity of a supernova seen from its closest galaxy."

"Uh."

"Why do you even own those?"

"Yeah, well, Soos convinced me to do a special holiday version of the Mystery Shack tour awhiles back, before I got immunity to those puppy dog eyes of his. Long story."

Stan cleared his throat. "So, you done making fun of my fashion choices or what?"

It was nonsense, but the easy back-and-forth of conversation was familiar in a warm sort of way - the kind that sapped the weary tension from his aching muscles and tugged at the edge of his lips until his expression softened.

Yes, Ford decided, allowing himself a particularly helpless smile. This was entirely ridiculous, illogical, and immature - and that was exactly why he would not trade it for anything.

"I can't say about the tights. Ma did always say you had chicken legs," he said lightly.

"Oh, fuck off," his brother replied with a roll of his eyes, but there was no real heat in his words. "Ma was just teasin', and you know it. I've got perfectly normal legs for my body type. And y'know, it's really all about the tailoring of the thing."

Ford raised an eyebrow. That... sounded suspiciously familiar.

"Ma told you that, didn't she?"

Stan's expression softened for just a moment in fond memory as he looked down in his lap, before settling down into a blank poker face. "Yeah, well. Ma did tell us a whole lot of stuff, Sixer."

He nodded slightly in agreement and had just opened his mouth, a particularly ridiculous anecdote already on his tongue, when Stan spoke again.

"Sometimes, I uh. Well. I still get myself thinking about what she'd say about things." His brother's words came halting at first and then all at once, as if Stan couldn't believe that he was saying them out loud either. "...Even if it's been thirty years since she -"

He went abruptly quiet, his expression stiffening in realization of what he had almost just said.

Ford blinked, a cold pit forming in his gut.

There it was.

"Stanley," he began, slowly and carefully, entirely aware of the stakes at hand.

It was something he didn't need to bring up, he tried to tell himself even as he dug his nails painfully into the new skin of his hands. A topic that was obviously impossibly difficult for both of them to talk about. He could forget about it, move on, enjoy the rest of his life in a dimension that wasn't (usually) actively attempting to kill him with his family.

(What was left of it.)

But despite himself, despite the fact that he had been waiting for decades and certainly could wait longer, despite his own pragmatic certainty that the answer would only come painfully -

- he had to know.

Because they couldn't move on without talking about this. Not really. Not in any way that mattered.

"...Yeah?" Stan muttered tensely.

"What happened with Ma?" The words flowed out all in a rush, coming much harsher than he wanted. Ford regrouped. "With... with the both of them," he finished his sentence awkwardly, words clumsy and inelegant around the one topic, one person he could not bring himself to mention out loud.

His brother wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Look, Stanley. It's - it's alright." There was a strange kind of desperation in Ford's voice, one that he didn't want to think about too hard. "I... It has been three long decades. I am fully aware of the most likely answer to my question. And to tell you the truth..."

He swallowed. "I haven't held any real hopes for any kind of reunion with them for years. I've always assumed that they had - already passed, but I would just like to -"

"They're gone," Stan said shortly, cutting off his ramblings like a knife through hot butter. Ford went abruptly silent, not necessarily out of surprise but... really, because of how bluntly his brother had put it.

Neither spoke for a long moment before Stan winced and said, "Sorry. I shouldn't have told you like that." He let out a ragged breath. "You were right. They... got old. Got sick."

Ford nodded slowly, with a touch of bewilderedness. Like a dog chasing after a car, now that he had gotten what he had wanted for so long, he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. He had not lying at all about the fact that this was the answer he had entirely expected. And yet, it still sent a familiar pang of loss through him.

Hearing it from his brother made it... real, concrete somehow. Concrete in a way it never felt when he was hundreds, thousands of light-years away from Earth.

"It was cancer with Ma," Stan continued, without any real prompting. He kept his eyes fixed on some distant thing, carefully not meeting Ford's gaze. "Years and years ago, at this point. But it - took its time with her. Turns out her pack a day habit was no good for anybody, but uh. You don't needa be a fake psychic to know that, do ya?"

"Stanley..."

"...Dad went a few days after," he said finally, his expression suddenly, carefully blank. "And who knows what it was with him?"

Ford went quiet, though not for lack of desire to speak. There was, well.

He had always wondered, in the way humans instinctively sought resolution, if their father had ever... well, change was a strong word, stronger than Filbrick Pines - for all his demeanor and his bluster - could ever be. But if he ever understood what he had done all those years ago. If he realized even a bit of what Ford had understood over all these years, if he had caught a glimpse of what Ford saw now in the brutal clarity of hindsight.

He knew better than to ask.

His brother grimaced. "Rabbi waxed poetic about broken hearts, but I've always figured that Pa's more - like a golem, or somethin'." He spoke with a strange. uncertain softness in his eyes. Something that could be, in a far kinder world, be called fondness. "Like the stories Ma used to tell us. Keeps chugging as long as he's got that little scroll in his head, take that away and."

He cleared his throat. "Y'know."

"...Yes." Ford said roughly. He wasn't sure why it was so difficult to speak. "Yes, I remember those stories."

Stan let out a low chuckle, one without much humor. "Yeah, I know. You were there for them too, I know. It - was a weird thought. But somehow... I knew you were the one person I wouldn't hafta explain it to."

Ford didn't know how to reply to that. All he knew was that the warm rush that washed over him upon hearing those words and left him breathless... that was a feeling he wanted to keep forever.

"...Did you - did you go?" he asked hesitantly. "To their funerals, I mean."

Stanley looked at him for a moment, as if in surprise.

"I - yeah," he said haltingly. "Actually, I - I was still decidin' whether I could risk goin' to Ma's funeral when I got the second call from Shermie about Dad. Tellin' me to get my ass over there in the next twenty-four hours if I wanted to keep it."

"That sounds like her," Ford noted, smiling despite himself at the thought of the little girl he had last saw decades ago yelling into a phone with Ma's Jersey accent. "Maybe not the - profanity - but -"

His brother lets out a bark of laughter. "Sixer, you have no idea."

They're both quiet for a companionable moment, and oh, oh, Ford had missed this. He had missed this more than words could say.

There was something - had always been something deeply heartening about being able to talk to someone who could understand. Especially given Ford's own experiences with fitting in, or rather, the lack thereof.

Relaxing in this way, soaking in the easy silence that only came from the knowledge that he did not need to speak to be understood... it was something he had not felt for a long, long time.

Maybe, time had not changed them as much as Ford had feared.

"...Ma had called a coupla times before," Stanley said slowly, clearly reluctant to break the moment of calm. "She sent me some money before when things were really down, but… first time I had actually seen either of 'em for a decade was at - well, my own burial."

He winced. "And that had been risky enough already, even with my corpse lying there in a box several yards away. Guess that was for the best. With Shermie the only one hanging around, I didn't have much of an excuse not to go and ah, see 'em off."

"I wish..." Ford said slowly, without knowing exactly how to end the sentence. I wish I had been there. I wish I had seen them one last time. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Judging from the look his brother gave him, he didn't need to.

"I'm sorry," Stan said roughly, a new tenseness in his body language that made his movements frantic, jerky. "I'm sorry ya couldn't be there."

Ford didn't reply for a long minute. This was one of those points, he knew, that the two of them could never completely forgive and get over. It had to be - doing otherwise would be a lie, a disservice for both of them. It hurt beyond words that he had lost everything he could call his own for thirty long years, that he had missed the funeral of his parents, that he did not get to watch his younger sister growing up.

But it had not been a one-sided hurt. It had never been a one-sided hurt when the two of them were involved, not even at the very beginning.

Blind forgiveness had never been the answer, Ford thought to himself with a strange calm. The problems that had stolen most of their lives from both of them would have lingered on, simmering until the moment they could not be ignored again.

He didn't know if it was possible to move on and forwards without forgetting the past. Ford certainly had not succeeded before.

But then, he had never really wanted to try, before.

"I am sorry as well," Ford said quietly. "I am sorry that you could not attend as yourself. That you - lost them so early."

They both knew well that he wasn't talking about their parents' passings.

"...Don't apologize for that, Sixer," Stan muttered. "It was my own stupid mistakes."

"I could have said something."

"No, ya couldn't." His brother said flatly. "...You saw the look on Pa's face. It wasn't some… spur of the moment kinda thing. I'd been packin' my bags for weeks up till that point, just waitin' for the last straw or until I turned eighteen, whichever came first. Nothin' you coulda said woulda changed his mind."

He grimaced. "He already knew I was a loser, Sixer."

"Then he should have learned that he was wrong!" Ford exclaimed, a familiar indignant anger rising in him - the same kind he felt at Crampelter and the bully's ugly laughter, at the recruiters from West Coast Tech and their cruel, calm rationality, at Bill grinning and cackling in laughter and saying, Fordsy, did you really think I would have chosen you if I wanted someone significant?

Stan winced. "Be honest with yourself, Sixer. Was he really? Just - look at what I ended up doin' after that. I just - I just kept runnin' cons. Sold cheap shit to people who were too dumb to know any better. Made deals with some - some real horrible people to keep myself going."

He sighed. "...Tell ya the truth - if you hadn't called me up here, I would've ended up dead young."

"You still did," Ford said steadily.

His brother refused to look him in the eyes. "You know what I mean. Worse than what happened here. I'd be in some - some shallow grave that no one would've even tried to look for. Moses knows I had gotten close to it before."

"Stanley..."

"You don't get it, do ya? Only good I've ever done in my life has been right here." Stan hesitated, as if he was gearing himself to say something he had wanted to say for a very long time. "...Only good I've ever done in my life wasn't even as myself."

"Don't say that," Ford retorted immediately, with an urgency that surprised even himself.

"Dunno, Sixer," Stan shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Figured I should tell the truth. For once in my life."

Ford opened his mouth, then shut it. Took a long, slow breath, and let it all out.

He said, his voice only slightly wavering, "When I told Shermaine the truth about what had happened between the two of us, she told me how you died."

His brother went still. Clearly, this was not what Stan expected to hear. "I, uh," he mumbled, eyes wide. "I... still really wish you hadn't done that."

"Apparently," Ford continued vehemently, " 'I' had been instrumental in the destruction of some cross-border drug operation that had orchestrated your -" He hesitated. It was real. It was exactly what happened. Why was it so hard to say? "Your murder," he said at last, mouth uncomfortably dry. "Shermaine had an idea or two on how you had gotten - involved in it."

He swallowed. "Is... is that where your scars came from?"

His brother's silence was particularly telling. "Some of them," Stan said at last, voice gruff.

They eyed each other, quietly willing the other to speak first.

Ford relented. "...I haven't said much to you and the twins about my years on the other side of the portal," he said haltingly, unsure of what he was getting at himself but hoping with everything he had that he would figure it out along the way. "They were not - the best."

"Well, yeah," Stan said, matter-of-fact. He flushed at the look Ford gave him. "Not like that. I meant... You startle easily."

"I what," Ford said flatly.

He had heard many descriptors applied to him in his life, everything from 'eccentric' and 'brilliant' to 'neurotic' and - in one not particularly fond memory - 'batshit insane.' 'Easily startled' was not one of them. Perhaps at the very beginning of his career in studying the paranormal, but even that was a stretch, considering that getting one of Mothman's composite moths in his mouth was obviously enough reason to -

"Fucking - not like that, sorry. Look, I just meant -" Stan took a deep breath. "Whenever I get up close to you without warning, you tense up. Hands twitch a bit, like you want to make a grab for something. It's not that hard to tell if you know what you're lookin' for, and I - uh."

He grimaced. "I knew what to look for. I dunno. I just - kinda always figured you weren't havin' the time of your life out there."

Ford... didn't know how to feel about that, that his trauma had become something entirely readable from the way he moved and lived.

"It wasn't the individual incidents that got to me, Stanley," he said instead, refusing to let the topic change. "Certainly there were many of them, over my three long decades of living life on the run. But no. It... was the constancy of it all."

He wasn't in danger all the time, of course. A month or two holed up in a safe haven, his time recovering and learning from Jheselbraum, the very few times he had genuinely thought his journey may have come to an end - that he had come to a place in which he could live instead of just survive, at least up until he had prepared enough to face Bill for the last time.

And that was it, wasn't it? "I realized eventually that there were two ways my journey would end," Ford said flatly. "Either I would die taking Bill with me, or I would die having failed in my mission. There were no other options to speak of. I... had no hope for myself in regards to that."

"Ford," Stan said, and there was something stunned, something entirely horrified in the blankness of his expression. "How could you just - decide that for yourself?".

That made him stop in his tracks, just a bit. "I didn't decide that for myself," Ford said, almost annoyed, because how was it that his brother didn't understand? Because it wasn't a decision, not in any way that mattered.

"Really, Stanley. It wasn't as if I had simply - sat down one day and decided that I had no direction in life other than one that culminated in death. "

Stan flinched. "But -"

"There was never a choice," he said matter-of-fact. "All I was doing was to accept the cards already dealt to me. It was all I... was..."

Worth.

Ford trailed off, the ending of the thought making him stop in his mental tracks. It was - a familiar thought, that there was no doubt about.

already knew I was a loser, sixer.

But now it was familiar in an entirely different kind of way.

His brother was looking at him, he realized, in concern. There was something suddenly, inexplicably hilarious about that, considering the entire unspoken conversation of worth and sacrifice and unnecessary martyrdom that had led up to this moment.

The smallest hint of a hysterical laugh bubbled up within him.

"...Sixer?"

"But I was wrong," Ford said breathlessly. He knew what he wanted to say now. What he had to say. To his brother - and to himself. "I'm alive, and I was wrong."

Stan grinned uneasily, unsurely. "That's - great, Sixer, don't get me wrong. But uh, I'm honestly kinda lost abo -"

"And so are you."

His brother stared at him like he had gone off the deep end.

"I had been wandering the dimensions for three decades by the time you fixed the portal," Ford said, buoyed by a heady combination of adrenaline and certainty, and it felt like shrugging off weights, opening the curtains, seeing and feeling something that had been there all along. "I had been hungry, I had been cold, and I was always afraid. By that time, I... had done many things I regret."

He hesitated. "But I won't say anymore on that because I don't need to explain all of that to you. Our circumstances were different, certainly. And any comparison of suffering is inherently wrongheaded. But... something tells me that you understand my experience more so than anyone else on this planet."

"Well, perfect," Stan said after a moment of stunned silence, his voice dull. "What I've always wanted. My brother to live like a criminal on-the-run for three decades."

"But it goes both ways, don't you see?" Ford interrupted, eyes wide. "I don't know everything that happened to you, that you went through, but trust me when I say that I understand much more than you might realize."

"I'm not sayin' you don't, but -"

"The reason I was so - determined to sacrifice myself for the sake of the universe," he said, voice clear, "was because I believed that my greatest worth was to others, and not to myself. I had made so many mistakes and let so many people down in my life, that this was the only way I could make up for them."

His brother looked deeply uncomfortable. "Ford..."

"I thought that because I had already given up all hope for myself," Ford said steadily. "But Stanley, you believed I was worth more than that. And you gave - so, so much of your life to give me another chance."

He hesitated. "I suppose... I just wish I could have done the same, when it was you who needed me."

It was all too easy to think back to a much younger Stanley, newly homeless, newly brother-less, and see their parallels. Even easier to put himself into the shoes of the familiar-unfamiliar man who had showed up at his door all those years ago, stinking of exhaustion and defeat, a strange desperation in his eyes when he asked Ford why he had finally asked him to come back. What he could do so he didn't have to go away again.

And instead...

take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as you can!

Ford's expression tightened. "I should have," he said, voice rough, "and I am sorry I didn't."

"You couldn't have known," his brother said automatically.

"I shouldn't have needed to," he snapped with a ferocity that surprised even himself. "I - Listen to me,. You might have never wanted me to give up so much for you, but - I never wanted you to give up so much for me either."

Stan sucked in a breath. "But - Ford -"

"Stanley," Ford said, slowly, steadily, "if we want to make this work, we have to be worth just as much to ourselves as we do to each other."

His brother stared at him for a long, frozen moment.

Then, as if waking from a dream, Stan opened his mouth. Maybe to protest, maybe to agree, maybe to throw out some terrible unfitting joke that only related tangentially to the situation like he always did whenever the circumstances became emotionally dire.

Ford didn't know, but what he could be certain about was that this time, he would not let his brother shrug off his words with false nonchalance, that this time they could finally -

And, of course, it was at that very moment that the doorbell rang.

Both brothers froze at the sound, faces gone slack in the exact same blank expression of disbelief and confusion.

As if in reply to their unvoiced question, the bell rang yet again, almost plaintively.

It felt as if a spell had been broken. "Who the hell…?" Stan trailed off, patting at his wrists as if looking for a watch that was no longer there. "It's dark outside, but - shit, what time is it?"

"It's - late," Ford replied blankly, mind too fuzzy to be at all helpful. There was something nagging at the edge of his consciousness, something important that he had forgotten. What was it?

"...Y'know what," his brother said decisively, and stood straight. "I'll go and tell 'em to fuck off. How do I look, Sixer? Decent?"

He looked at Stanley's wildly mismatching, garishly colored outfit cobbled together from the tourist shop lost and found and Ford's wardrobe from when he was 28, which could only be described as "hopelessly tweed." Certain pieces somehow, against all laws of physics, managed to be at once too tight and too loose.

"You look absolutely terrible," Ford said bluntly.

"Perfect." Stan adjusted his three overlapping collars. "Then maybe I don't even have to say anythin' for them to run."

Ford bit back an exasperated sigh. "Stan, would you just wait a moment? There's something about this that's -"

The doorbell rang again. It was clear that their visitor had no intentions of leaving without an answer.

Stan gave him a Look. Ford relented, an entirely terrible decision he would later chalk up to a combination of sleep deprivation and the multiversal destabilization all the molecules in his body had gone through not even an hour before.

Decision made, his brother limped over to the door and fumbled momentarily with the inner locks. There was a satisfying click as the door unlatched and he turned the handle.

And, of course, it was at that very moment that Stanford remembered exactly what was so significant about having a stubborn visitor to the Mystery Shack so late at night.

"Stanley, wait!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet, watching the door open in slow-motion. "It's Sher -"

"MISTER PINES!"

Ford blinked. The voice was - a familiar one, undoubtedly. Just... not even remotely close to what he was expecting to hear.

A quick, stunned glance confirmed his initial suspicions. The late night visitor to the Mystery Shack was Soos the handyman, the rather gopher-ish man who had become close friends with the niblings over the summer. And, he remembered with a twinge of sheepishness, the same person who had accompanied him on his trip into the woods and experienced with him the aftermath of his brother's ridiculous plan.

Without warning, the handyman in the doorway rushed forwards to enclose Stan tightly with two pudgy arms.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Mr. Pines!" He wailed, eyes moist. "After everythin' that was going on and all the stuff that other Mr. Pines told me, I was so worried that somethin' had -"

"...Soos?" Stan said slowly, clearly lost. Just slightly more so than Ford felt, a fact that gave him some reluctant pleasure. "Uh, Soos, what the heck are you doing here?" A moment passed, and then he added, completely unconvincingly, "Oi, leggo of me, ya big lug. Yer getting sweat all over me. And - " He squinted. "Is that my fez?"

Soos loosened his grip reluctantly and wiped at his gushing tears - not an exaggeration, Ford watched on with awe, despite possibly being not humanly possible. "I just wanted to see if you were alright, sir. And, oh yeah! Your fez!" His eyes widened. "I was gonna return it, Mr. Pines, I swear!"

"Yeah, I don't doubt that," Stan muttered, and squinted. "Uh, what are ya doing here anyways?" His eyes widened as the realization hit. "Wait, Soos, how did ya even know I was here?'

Soos paused, a sheepish expression on his face. "Oh, uh, about that, Mr. Pines -"

A familiar-unfamiliar figure stepped into view in the doorway. "Ford," it said dangerously, eyes glinting behind thick glasses, "you scared the shit outta me."

Stan blinked, entirely bewildered. "...Shermy? What the hell are you doin' here?"

She punched him directly in the jaw.

The next few seconds of movement passed too quickly for Ford to intervene.

His brother staggered backwards with (no, not a squeak, because Ford will give his brother that little bit of dignity even in the sanctity of his mental narration) an 'oof' of some pain and mostly surprise. "What the fu - hot Belgian Waffles was that?" He groaned, raising one hand to rub at his sore cheek.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing here, Ford?" Shermaine demanded, her left fist still clenched pale and bloodless against her side.

"I... don't know?"

She faltered. Her anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by something much more real.

"Why did you call me?" She asked, voice ragged. "What were you - what have you been thinking?"

Stan took a step backwards, confusion written clearly across his face. He glanced quickly at where Ford was standing, just slightly out of sight, in an obvious plea for help. "I... don't remember calling you? I mean," he added, in what seemed like a futile attempt to hold up his false identity, "not saying I didn't call you, but uh -"

For just a moment, her face fell - no masks, no guards, no performative fury to cover up the raw grief in her expression. "...What happened to you?"

Ford took in a deep breath and takes a - the single step forward.

"He didn't call you up here, Shermaine," he said, speaking to his younger sister face-to-face for the first time in three decades. It took every bit of self-control he had just to stop his voice from shaking.

"I did."

Shermy turned around slowly, face pale.

She looked at him like she had just seen a ghost, a dead man risen, like if she blinked even once he would disappear back into the realm of her imagination. Which, if she was anything like the rest of her family, were all entirely accurate descriptors of what she must have immediately - and understandably, he supposed, given the circumstances - concluded.

A long moment passed and gone. Ford just stood there, a small, sad smile on his face. He said, as gently as he could, "It's really me, Shermaine."

She looked at Stan, then back at him, then back at his - at their brother again.

"The two of you," Shermaine said thickly, a single hand held shakily to her mouth.

"You're both - both -"

To Ford's confusion, she fumbled in her purse for what he only barely recognizes from Dipper and Mabel's brief show-and-tell as a modern phone. Shermaine held it up, her arm visibly shaking, and looked at him through its screen.

"Um," he said.

"You can't take a picture of a hallucination, Sixer," Stan explained quietly. He looked on calmly, like he had seen the process many times before. More likely than not, he had, Ford realized, reminding himself of the many years of shared life between the two that he had missed out on.

Shermaine made a small, broken sound. The phone slipped from her slack grip and smacked loudly on the ground.

The handyman reached out a hand as if in pain.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Jesús," she said distantly, slowly putting her arm down to dangle limply at her side. "I got an Otterbox. That thing can survive a nuclear meltdown."

There was a brief moment of silence as the three Pines siblings stared at each other, none of them particularly willing to be the first one to speak. Just when it got to the point of becoming truly uncomfortable, Shermaine sighed.

"Do me a favor, will ya, sweetheart?" She said to the handyman with easy familiarity. "I'm gonna have a talk with my idiot brother." A hesitation. "Brothers. Fuck. ...You might want to come back in a bit."

The handyman fidgeted, sneaking a look at Stanley. "Well -"

"Probably a good idea," his brother sighed. "Sorry about gettin' you involved in all of this, kid. We'll talk later, yeah?"

That got Soos in motion. "Sure thing, Mr. Pines!" He saluted. "By the way, Mrs. Pines! Abuelita told me to tell you, uh, felicidades!"

"On winning the 9th annual Pines-Ramirez pickle-eating contest, or on the Pulitzer?" Shermaine asked after a moment of thought. Ford gave Stan an incredulous look.

The handyman paused in contemplation. "Sorry Mrs. Pines," he said apologetically. "I think Abuelita only follows the pickles."

Then he was gone, and it was just the three of them. The silence in the house felt suddenly, uncomfortably oppressive.

"So," Shermaine said. She looked between the two of them like she wasn't sure whether she wanted to hug them or kill them.

Ford tried his best not to seem apprehensive. "Yes?"

"You're both alive." She hesitated. "You're both - here."

"Yeah," Stan said awkwardly. "Well. We've got a, uh, whole lot of explaining to do, I know, and we can definitely -"

"Are you kidding me?" Shermaine exclaimed, clearly caught between exasperation and astonishment. "Do - do I look like that's what I want from you two right now?"

"Er -" Stan said, but whatever he wanted to say after that was forgotten as he was promptly yanked into a bone-crushing embrace.

"Thank God I didn't lose you too," she muttered, voice muffled against the scratchy cloth of his shirt. Stan let out a pained wheeze when she squeezed.

After a long moment, Shermaine loosened her grip. She turned and shot Ford a look of pure disbelief. "What are ya doing still standin' there?"

"Er," Ford said unsurely, "I -"

She groaned. "Get over here and let me hug you, ya dingus."

He approached them slowly, carefully. But really, it was all over the moment he got into grabbing range.

Ford and Stan stood tense and breathless for a long moment as Shermaine held them tight and pressed her face into both of their shoulders, at the space where the two met.

After a long, frozen moment, she let out a long, ragged breath. Her grip slackened, and let go. "You assholes," Shermaine announced, voice low. If there was a moistness in her eyes, no one was idiotic enough to mention it. "I can't believe you two. Fuck."

"Shermaine -"

"You - absolute - fucking - assholes."

Stan winced. "Fair enough."

All three of them were quiet for a long moment.

"How long?" Shermaine asked finally, voice choked.

"Just a couple weeks, Sherm." Stan said tentatively. "Ford hasn't been back for long at all."

Shermaine blinked slowly. "'Ford,' you said," she intoned flatly.

He coughed, alarm written bright and clear across his face as Stan realized the mistake of what he had said. "Um, yeah, about that -"

"Either you've picked up the habit of referrin' to yourself in third person in the past week, or -" Her eyes glinted. "I've been missing the wrong brother for the past thirty years."

Stan hung his head.

"I'm Stanford," Ford said, cutting in hurriedly because clearly Stan needed some help sorting out the hurt his - at the time - convenient lies had dished out to everyone involved. "He's Stanley. I was the one who called you, but..." He hesitated. "He was the one you've known for all of these years."

Shermaine stared at him for a long moment, as if she hadn't been expecting him to talk at all. Considering he - or at least, 'Stanley' - had been some sort of cautionary tale for their family for decades, he supposed that was more or less understandable.

"Oh," she said finally. "Alright. Okay."

There was a beat. "No, actually, that's not okay. Ford - Stanley - whoever you are," Shermaine brandished a finger furiously at Stanley, who winced at the sudden attention. "You've had thirty years to tell me all of this. Any of this. And now it turns out you're our long-dead brother that you've been - pretending to grieve for all this time and -"

Her voice cracked.

"Sherm," Stan said slowly, "I can explain."

"Can you explain why you lied to me for all these years?" Shermaine snapped immediately. Then she paused, her eyes widening in slow, horrified realization. "...No, not just to me. Our whole family." Her expression hardened. "Our parents died thinking you were gone."

"I know. I know, Sherm." He took a long, ragged breath. "There's nothin' I can say that can fix things, but I... gotta explain. Maybe it won't make up for any of what happened, but just - gimme a chance, alright? To tell ya everything I couldn't during all these years."

Shermaine looked at him quietly for a long moment. "...This is a lot," she said, voice low. "You know that. This is a fucking lot."

"Yeah, Sherm," Stan said hollowly. "It - really is."

She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers.

"I need a fucking drink." 

"So," Shermaine said, an hour and an impromptu scavenger hunt in the Mystery Shack later. She nursed a small but very dangerous amount of whiskey from Ford's - or possibly Fiddleford's, which was even more alarming - thirty-year-old stash. "Armageddon."

"We've been referring to it as Weirdmageddon, actually," Ford ventured. "But in hindsight, 'Oddcapalypse' certainly has a ring to it -"

"Ford, shut up." He flinched. She went quiet. "...Sorry. I didn't mean that. I just. God."

"I know it's a lot to take in," Ford said tentatively. "And certainly very difficult to believe. But I swear to you, this is the truth."

"Demons, dimensional portals and coming back from the fucking dead," Shermaine said dully. "No, actually, I got that part just fine. Honestly, Ford - fuck, it feels weird to even call you that - I've seen enough weird shit in my life and especially as part of this family that I really have no place to say what's make-believe in this world and what's not."

"Oh."

He... had no idea what to say to that. There should be some sort of relief, shouldn't there? Ford knew better than most how entirely unwilling to believe people could be when it came to the strange and abnormal. "That's - wonderful, Shermaine, I'm glad you're taking this so well -"

He realized almost immediately that that was the wrong thing to say.

"The only reason I seem to be taking this so well," Shermaine said calmly, dangerously, as she set down her cup, "is because seein' the two of ya here, even if I don't have a goddamn clue how this is happenin', is infinitely better than what I was afraid I was gonna find once I made it up here. Which, just so you know, is that the only brother I've got left had lost his goddamn mind on me - and had brought my grandkids along for the ride."

"That's -"

"Here's a secret, Stanford. I'm not takin' this well at all. Because what I don't get," she continued, a promise in her words as she turned to stare down Stanley, "is exactly what part of that was stopping me from getting told the truth for thirty goddamn years?"

Stan had been quiet for awhile now - a particularly guilty silence, Ford saw with the clarity of hindsight. "I was gonna tell you all of this once I got Ford back, Sherm," he said gruffly, not meeting Shermaine's angry look.

(No, he wasn't, Ford realized with a burst of horrified understanding. Because he had never expected to survive long enough to tell the truth, and he had thought Ford would have been perfectly fine with stepping into the hole he left behind.

...After this, after all of this, he was going to give his brother a good talking-to.)

"So in the meantime, you decided to impersonate him and let us all go on believin' you were dead?" She asked disbelievingly.

"Sherm, I wasn't even sure if I was myself -"

"I coulda told you that, you knucklehead!"

Stan stared at her with wide eyes. "Uh -"

"We both remember what you did for me, Fo - Stan," Shermaine said through gritted teeth. Ford watched on in confusion.

He winced. "That doesn't have anythin' to do with this, Sherm -"

"Yes it does," she bit out. "Because decades ago I was a scared kid because I was gonna have a kid, and I didn't think there was a single person in the whole world who wouldn't flip their lid on me if they knew. You were holed up north so you didn't have to risk giving yourself away, but you still picked up when I called. And you said yes and cleared out the spare room in the Shack, and -"

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Sherm?" Stan exclaimed, disbelief written large across his face. "Of course I did, what kind of brother would've left you hanging? Hot Belgian waffles, what kind of monster would've..."

He trailed off in slow realization.

"Exactly!" Shermaine shouted, eyes wild. He stared at her as if she had yanked a rabbit out of a hat and promptly threw it at his face. "So Stan, how the fuck did it take you three whole decades and the almost end of the world to figure this out yourself?"

Ford looked between the two of them in a strange mixture of morbid curiosity and a sensation of inexplicable loss. Inexplicable, because it was entirely illogical to expect to understand, to feel as if he had lost something he had never had, to -

To feel like an outsider looking in.

(Thirty years was a very long time, he felt - really felt - for the first time since returning to this dimension.)

"I - look. Stan. I get why you didn't want to tell Dad. Even Ma." Shermaine took a long, deep breath, her grip tightening on the glass in her hand.. "But, at the very least... why couldn't you tell me?"

Stan flinched, and looked away.

"Did ya really think I would've ratted you out if you told me what really happened between you an' Ford?" She demanded thickly. "Or did ya think I wouldn't believe you? Because I would've believed you, seeing how for some reason, I trust you!"

"I know, Sherm," he said roughly.

"So why?"

They looked at each other for a long moment. "I dunno," Stan said at last, each individual word coming out slow and reluctant. "I was stupid, I dunno. I don't have a real good answer for you."

"Well, ya better think of one, or -"

"I guess." He swallowed. "I guess, I just didn't wanna disappoint you."

Shermaine stared at him. "No," she said tonelessly. "No."

Stan's expression didn't change.

She exploded. "You knucklehead, what the hell made you think I would be disappointed if I knew you were actually you?"

He didn't meet her eyes, and that was answer enough.

Shermaine let out a long, deep breath. "Do I - do I look like Dad to you?" She demanded, eyes wild and just slightly moist. "Because I'm not him. Lord knows I've tried my best not to be, all of these years. You know that."

"I'm sorry, Sherm," Stan said roughly.

The silence hovered around them for a long moment.

"I still can't believe you're him," she said at last, voice blank. "That - you're you. Everything I heard growing up, all those files I searched up, those fucking pictures - that was you. This whole fucking time."

"That - doesn't change anything, Sherm," he tried.

"No, Stanley. It changes everything." Shermaine sighed. "I - can't talk about this anymore. I need time," she said roughly. "Enough time to sort out this clusterfuck that's in my head right now."

She glanced over at Ford, who had been sitting rather stiffly to the side during the whole exchange, unsure of how - or even if he should - add anything to the conversation.

"Hi, Stanford," Shermaine said slowly, deliberately.

He fidgeted slightly under the weight of her gaze. "Hello, Shermaine," Ford replied rather awkwardly.

"I wanna apologize to you right now," she said, matter-of-fact. "Because now that I think about it, I don't remember much about you at all, and you deserve a whole lot more than that. Just that..."

Shermaine trailed off in thought. "That your hands always smelled like chemicals, and you dropped an apple on my head once, so you could tell me about Newton."

He remembered that too, in some distant part of his brain he had thought lost to time and hurt. It suddenly became very difficult to speak. "You don't need to apologize to me, Shermaine," Ford said gently.

"Yep, I do," she said, just as calmly. "Someone does, because you've missed out on a whole lot all these years, Ford. You've missed out on meeting two whole generations of Pineses because you had to go all - Stargate-y."

Ford's expression tightened at the reminder of what he had lost. "I'm well aware," he said stiffly.

"Might not be anyone's fault," Shermaine said contemplatively. "But as far as I'm concerned, someone's gotta fix it."

She paused. "And that someone's me."

Ford blinked. Shermaine downed the rest of her drink in one go, and began to get up shakily.

"Sherm -" Stan - tried - to interrupt, a look of concern on his face.

"Stanford," she announced, voise rising in volume as she stood, "consider yourself back in school. You are officially enrolled in a little crash course I like to call, 'Pines Family 101: A Drunk History,' starting..."

Shermaine checked her watch, only swaying slightly. "Right fucking now. Who's gonna help me grab my bags from the trunk?"

"Hell, Sherm, you brought the family photo albums?" Stan asked, pained.

"Every volume," she said cheerfully, and Ford could not miss the resemblance to a certain glitter-loving nibling. "And we're going through all of them. Together."

Life moved very quickly after that.

Maybe it was making up for lost time. There had been, after all, many, many photos to be seen. It was a pleasant surprise to realize that blood relation was quite possibly the least important factor of what it meant to be part of the Pines family as it existed now. Ford blinked blearily as he was introduced to second cousins and adopted aunts and more in-laws than he could count on both hands.

At one point, he thought he had seen a man with his niblings' wide grin, his arms around a woman with their curious eyes.

By the time he had 'graduated' from Shermaine's crash course, dazed and overwhelmed but full with emotion in a way he could not put into coherent words, Ford had been told the date of the next big family reunion and been made very aware of the fact that a great number of people attending would Very Much like to meet Great-Uncle Ford-But-Not-The-Other-Great-Uncle-Ford-Who-Was-Actually-Great-Uncle-Stanley-This-Whole-Time.

("But you should definitely ease yourself into it," Shermaine had said sheepishly, upon catching the expression of pure panic on Ford's face. "We're a bunch of weirdos and I love them to pieces, but I'd be the first to admit that we are a whole lot. So take your time, y'know? They'll understand.")

And then Shermaine was gone, because apparently - to his entire lack of surprise - she hadn't said much at all to anyone else when she started on her cross-country drive over to Gravity Falls. Now that she was satisfied that neither of her brothers was dead or dying or would be in the foreseeable future, she had a great deal of explanations to give herself, back home in California.

The Shack was very quiet after that.

But even so, between giving more-or-less adequate explanations to everyone who had a right to know (which was quite a bit more than Ford had expected, even knowing how deep his brother's connections ran in this town) and dealing with the constant crowd of townspeople clamoring for a reopening of the Mystery Shack, a few long days had passed before Stan and Ford got a moment to themselves to just... pick up their pieces.

It finally happened on a particularly nice summer evening, the kind with just enough of the occasional breeze to have a comfortable chill to it. The two of them sat perched on the back porch of the Shack, looking up at the many brilliant stars that hung distantly in the sky.

Ford could never say what triggered the thought in his mind, or if there even was a trigger at all. Maybe it had been there all along, just waiting to be spoken into existence.

There was something about the heavy darkness of the sky that made him contemplative and thoughtful. After that, it was just a matter of time before it slipped out.

"Stanley?" He spoke, his voice uncomfortably loud in the ambient noise of the Pacific Northwest woods.

His brother shifted next to him. "Yeah?"

"What happened to Six-Sights, in the end?"

Ford's words came out all in a rush, and he wanted to take them back the moment he realized he had spoken them out loud.

Stan was still, and for a long moment, it felt as if the entire world was holding its breath.

"I figured this was coming," his brother said finally, but there was no fear in his voice, no surprise. He leaned back, propped himself up with his own arms. "So. There's a long answer, and there's a short answer. Which one you wanna hear first?"

"...Maybe for once the universe will allow me to take the simpler path," Ford mused to himself, and found it entirely impossible to believe. Still... "The short answer, if you would?"

"They're still here."

Ford blinked. Opened his mouth, closed it again. "...I see," he said at long last, mind racing through more doomsday scenarios than he wanted to count. "Stanley, I mean this in the best possible way, but that particular answer brings me a great deal of fear and anxiety for the immediate future of the world."

"Not like that, geez." His brother rolled his eyes. "I meant, still here." He patted himself on the chest.

For a moment, it felt as if there was no more breath in his lungs. "But you're - you're human now," Ford said faintly, and it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"'Course I am, Sixer. I wouldn't have lied to you about that, geez. I'm just sayin'..." Stan was quiet for a moment. "The deal that we had going on. You remember that it goes both ways, right?"

"Yes," he said slowly, unsure of what his brother was getting at.

"So I get what I want. And they get what they want. You already know what I wanted, and it was easy enough when all they wanted was whatever Cipher told them to want." Stan hesitated. "Things... got a lot more complicated once they got a taste for what consciousness was like."

"They began to want something different," Ford said with no small amount of trepidation. He had trusted an eldritch being knowing that it was mostly his brother holding the reigns, but the thought of an existence beyond all human comprehension given access to whatever they wanted was entirely - and understandably - terrifying.

A particularly upsetting question popped into his head. "But - what could something like them want?"

Stan snorted in laughter. "Sorry," he muttered when Ford turned to stare, a strange smile still on his face. "It's just. I remember asking that too, way back when. Exact same question. Fiddleford had been giving me the whole spiel about eldritch whatchamacallits, and this was the only one he couldn't answer. Didn't want to answer, more like."

He grinned to himself. "But I figured it out, in the end. Figured it out before you two, even."

"I believe you've had," Ford said delicately, "what most would call an unfair advantage."

Stan shrugged. "Point taken. But just think about it, Ford. People can't make sense of them, but... we couldn't make sense of people either, y'know? Humanity was a whole - way of existing we'd never even considered. It was ridiculous, it was overwhelming, and y'know what?" He grinned, only slightly maniacally. "It was addicting."

He blinked, unsure if he had heard wrong. "I'm not quite sure what you're -"

"See, you've got some - ageless, all-knowing fact of the universe, and they've got everything that anyone could possible want." A strange, distant expression passed over his brother's face. "But what the hell is any of that good for if you're not living?"

For a moment, it felt as if the night got just that much darker.

"Of course we wanted more," Stanley said, voice rough. "After the deal, we never could've gone back to the way we were before."

"Um," said Ford.

His brother blinked, and grinned a bit sheepishly. When he spoke again, the strange tone in his voice was gone. "Sorry. It's, uh, a bit... hard to separate things out nice and clean after all of that, y'know?"

"But what you are now is human," he said searchingly. "Entirely, completely, human."

"That was the deal, wasn't it?" Stan said, matter-of-fact. "I get my brother back. And we get to be human."

...Ford could not help but notice that he hadn't actually answered the question. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to be concerned.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, occasionally slapping at the mosquitos that had begun to emerge from the nearby lake.

"So you're okay with that?' Stan asked suddenly.

The question was so ridiculous Ford had to fight the urge to laugh out loud. "I - Stanley, did you forget every single word I said to you while you were having your world-ending identity crisis?"

"No! I just - this is different, Ford." He fidgeted. "And it was the end of the world back then, I figure maybe you had -"

"Yes, Stanley, I'm okay with that," Ford said, and could not keep the exasperation from his voice. "It really isn't as entirely offputting as you seem to think. It's not as if you're not you." He paused. "They're just - you, too."

A thought popped into his head at that, and he found himself looking up at the dark sky. The entirety of the existence that Bill called 'Six-Sights' must have spanned - planets, galaxies, even, perhaps even outside of the human perception of physical size.

"...But you're not all of them, are you?"

"Yeah, I mean," his brother shrugged. "We never were. There was a lot of - us. The bit of us that got let onto Earth by Cipher was, uh, just one part in a billion billions. Maybe more."

"And the rest of them is - still out there, in whatever corner of the universe they existed in before Bill prodded them awake," Ford muttered out loud. "Doing whatever they've always done."

It was a strange thought. He had been vaguely aware of the entity's existence in his years traveling across the multiverse, but with the revelations of the past few days, he could not help but - perhaps wrongly - think of them with some degree of sympathy.

A strange expression flickered over Stan's face. "...Yeah."

Ford blinked. For a moment, he could have sworn - "You know something," he accused.

"What? No!" His brother hesitated. "...Maybe. It's nothin', honestly."

"Then it shouldn't be any issue for you to catch me on what exactly it is that I don't know. Right, Stanley?"

"Alright, alright. Just, uh." Stan paused, cleared his throat. "We were part of the same them for thirty years. Everything we saw, and felt, and got... they did too."

Ford didn't get the significance of that for a long moment. When the realization finally hit, it hit like a battering ram.

"What you're saying," he said slowly, "is that there is - at least some part of them remembers being you. Being my brother."

Ford tensed, his thoughts barreling towards a conclusion he did not want to accept. "And... it knows full well that they can never come home."

His brother's silence spoke volumes.

Cold horror flashed through him. "That's -"

"Ford, we don't know that," Stan said quickly. "You're overthinking it, honestly. This is thirty years of living compared to what, eternity?" He sighed. "See, what I think is, all of that was probably just one long blink for Six-Sights. Then it's all back to status quo."

"You don't actually think that," Ford accused.

"Sure I do," his brother lied, and let out a sigh. "C'mon, Sixer. Don't do this. Even if you're right about that, what can ya do about it?"

He didn't know, and that was bothered him the most. Ford felt a chill that did not come from the summer breeze.

A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and almost sheepishly, patted him sympathetically.

"Hey," Stanley said awkwardly. "Don't worry about them, alright? If they're anything like me, they'll figure something out. They'll - make it work for them."

Ford swallowed, hard. "...I suppose," he allowed.

They sat in silence together for a moment. When Ford looked at the night sky again, the darkness was almost solid.

For a long moment, he felt surrounded, from every side, every angle. He was within, somewhere deep inside the innards of some colossal existence, part of the bigger whole, and -

...There was something deeply familiar about the blackness of the night, the faint glint of stars that he could have sworn he had seen somewhere before, in a memory of green so deep in his mind that he could not be sure if it existed.

For a reason that he could never put into words or explain, not even to himself, he knew he was protected here.

...Maybe his brother was right, after all.

Ford thought about how Stanley had managed to repair the portal with a few dozen textbooks and pure tenacity, had subsumed an eternity-old fact of the universe out of sheer willpower, had out-manuevered a demonic con-man purely on the basis of his love for his family.

If there was anyone who could make the most out of being an age-old eldritch abomination suddenly given human consciousness, it was him.

"Ford," Stan said suddenly, his voice crashing through Ford's thoughts like a bull in a china shop. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Hmrg?" He managed.

"Y'know. Before Shermy knocked on the door."

Oh. His mouth suddenly felt very, very dry. "Have you."

Stan didn't speak for a moment. Then, with no small amount of panic, blurted, "We need to make it work, don't we?"

"Er."

"Shermy knows there's two of us now. So does the rest of - well, everyone else." His brother fidgeted. "And they're not gonna settle down for any less than that, huh?"

With a burst of clarity, Ford saw exactly where this was going, and almost couldn't keep the relief off his face. "No, I daresay they won't," he said lightly.

They sat there, a silence stretching out into eternity.

"I can't promise anything," Stan said suddenly. "I just - can't, Sixer. I care about you and the kids too much to put myself above you all, and it ever comes down to it, then -"

"I'm not asking you to do that, Ley," he said gently. "Just to not put yourself below us."

A moment passed and gone. "I'll try," Stan said, voice hoarse.

Ford let out a breath, long and slow.

"That's enough for me," he said, and meant it.

And, despite himself, his thoughts began to drift, far, far away from the little town of Gravity Falls and the patch of Oregon forest that surrounded it.

Shermaine must have made it home by now, to Dipper and Mabel, and to a Pines family that Ford - should - have found strange and terrifying, because there was no one left that he knew.

And no one left that knew him.

But... what had surprised him was that when he had looked through those albums, learning a history he had thought lost to him with Stan and Shermaine throwing out embarrassing stories over his shoulder, he had not seen strangers. Ford had seen people he knew in parts, again and again - in bright grins and expressions of wonderment, to - a distinctive raised arch of an eyebrow that was all Ma.

...All the parts that made a family when shared.

Ford did some calculations in his head. 

If this year's reunion was in Piedmont, Northern California, then - that was near the ocean, wasn't it? 

And that really wasn't too far from Gravity Falls, geographically speaking, though one should - theoretically, completely theoretically - have some degree of nautical experience before attempting the journey.

Which, as far as he was concerned, just meant that they needed to get right on it.

"Stanley," Ford said, "how do you feel about buying a boat?"

#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #stanley pines #stanford pines #gf #gf fic #lmao it's been so long i don't even remember what to tag anymore #a thousand natural shocks #atns #my fic #wow i cry