#I wonder how much fruit a gummy needs to be a fruit snack instead of a gummy candy

[bumbleklee]

babysitting p2 (childe and zhongli)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | baby series

pairings: childe and zhongli x female!reader (separate)

warnings: babies

part one (kaeya and diluc)

childe

“Is this our first date since the baby was born?” Childe asked casually, struggling to pick up a dumpling with chopsticks.

You took the opportunity to steal the dumpling off his plate, “It is.”

You would be lying if you said Nikolai wasn’t a handful. You loved him to death, of course, but your son was just so clingy. Anytime you left the house for work or to go grocery shopping, Nikolai cried. The same went for Childe.

So when you had a rough night and Nikolai was sleeping for most of the day, you took advantage of the situation. No one was available to watch him except Zhongli and honestly, you trusted the consultant more than the teenagers in Liyue.

“Are you having a good time?” Childe added, peering at your unreadable expression.

You nodded quickly, “I am! I’m just a little worried.”

Childe laughed softly, “Trust me when I say no one is better to babysit our son than Zhongli.”

Only back at your home, Zhongli was wondering if there was something better to babysit Nikolai than him. He was just a baby - how could he be filled with so much terror?

He woke up shortly after you and Childe left for your date and decided then that he would make Zhongli’s job a hard one. His little hands gripped around the wooden slats to his crib as he pulled himself onto his feet and screamed at the top of his lungs.

Zhongli came rushing into the nursery, “Is something wrong?” Nikolai quieted down for a moment, just a moment, to inspect Zhongli before bursting into dramatic tears again. Zhongli’s eyes widened as he pried Nikolai away from the side of the crib and into his arms.

He changed Nikolai and brought him into the kitchen, sliding him into the highchair. Nikolai threw himself down onto the plastic tray attached.

“Come on, now,” Zhongli said softly. He remembered you mentioning something about fruit in the fridge and he took it out of the container. Nikolai instantly perked up at the sight of the fruit but the baby forced a pout onto his lips still.

“Eat?” He asked.

Zhongli raised an eyebrow, “Yes, you can eat.” He placed a bowl of fruit in front of Nikolai and pulled a chair over to help him.

“Eat!” Nikolai said loudly, holding up a piece of cantaloupe towards Zhongli.

“For me?” Nikolai nodded. “Why thank you.” Zhongli took the piece of fruit and put it in his mouth, chewing it slowly. Nikolai handed him another one. “No, you need to eat it.”

“No!”

The crocodile tears were gone, instead replaced with a gummy smile. “No?” Zhongli wondered and Nikolai shook his head. The eleven month old baby pushed the bowl forward and watched as the fruit tumbled onto the ground. Instead of getting upset that he just wasted his snack, he only laughed.

Zhongli rubbed his forehead, “Maybe going for a walk will calm you down.”

He ended up taking Nikolai down to Liyue Harbor to the small, almost hidden, beach that was attached. There was a tide pool attached to the sand and Zhongli figured looking at the sea creatures would help the baby calm down for the night. Zhongli didn’t mind getting his clothes dirty and sat down in the sand, settling Nikolai on his lap.

Nikolai reached over and grabbed a handful of sand and immediately brought it to his mouth.

“No, no, don’t eat that,” Zhongli panicked. He unwrapped Nikolai’s fist so the sand fell back to the beach.

The baby yelled in protest and wiggled out of Zhongli’s hold, crawling onto the sand. The feeling was weird to him (why was he sinking into the ground?) and Nikolai wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. He ended up stopping in his tracks and sitting down in the middle of the beach.

Zhongli laughed at the baby before helping him to his feet. Nikolai could take a few steps while holding onto something and he did just that.

He led Nikolai down to the water and held him up by his middle to point at the passing fish or colorful plants. He tried to grab a fish multiple times but Zhongli made sure he didn’t touch the water.

“There’s a star conch,” Zhongli pointed out, “Do you want to bring it home for Childe?”

Nikolai nodded, as if he understood the question. “Dada!” He babbled, reaching for the shell. Zhongli reached past the baby and picked up the shell, rinsing it off in the water before handing it to Nikolai who held it with two hands.

By the time they returned back to the house, Nikolai was exhausted. His little eyes could barely stay open and as soon as he was laid down, he fell asleep.

Zhongli put the shell on the nearby changing table and shut the lights off. “Goodnight, little one.”

zhongli

As much as Jia was independent, she was clingy.

She could feed herself using a spoon, pull her own socks off, and hug her favorite stuffed animals but the moment you set her down, she cried.

Like now - you were so tired and just wanted to rest your eyes for a while but Jia was wide awake. Her face examined the living room as if she had never been there before even though she spent nearly everyday in it.

“You look exhausted.” A polite voice reminded you that you had guests over today.

You peered to the side, “Ah, kids, do you mind watching Jia while I take a nap?” You asked tiredly. Xiangling was the first to nod her head.

“Of course!”

Xiangling takes the baby from your arms and you finally stretch your arms for the first time in what feels like years. You kiss the top of Jia’s forehead before trailing to your bedroom, shutting the door and crashing immediately.

The boys watch in fascination as Jia and Xiangling make faces at each other. Her eyes were so dark they looked beady and Xingqiu reached over to boop her nose with his finger. Jia giggles and twists her body so she can babble nonsense at him.

Jia squirmed in Xiangling’s hold so the teenager put her on the ground and watched as she crawled towards a storage bin across the room. The baby sat up and dug through her toys before holding up a stuffed brown dragon.

“Is that a Rex Lapis plush?” Chongyun exclaimed. “It’s as big as her!”

The baby squealed in excitement as she squeezed the life out of the stuffed dragon. And just like that, it drops from her hold and she’s crawling to something else.

Jia stops at a pile of wooden blocks and tries to stack them on top of each other but is struggling. Chongyun and Xingqiu slide off the couch to assist the baby and make a tower of blocks together.

When Chongyun reaches to grab another one, his elbow bumps into the tower and the blocks topple to the ground, “Oops.”

Jia’s eyes widen in shock and a whimper leaves her lips.

“Don’t cry!” Xinqiu panics, “It’s okay, we can just build it again!”

They don’t want you to wake up so Chongyun rushes to make funny faces at Jia and Xiangling brings over the Rex Lapis stuffed animal again but nothing seems to be working. “I’ll get a snack!” Xiangling exclaims and hurries into the kitchen. “Xinqiu, can you help me?”

The blue-haired boy nods and jumps up to follow his friend, leaving Chongyun alone with Jia.

Her arms reach out towards him and Chongyun gathers Jia into his arms. He normally doesn’t hold her, afraid he’s going to drop her, but he admits it’s a nice feeling. His hand finds the back of her head and he hushes her gently.

“No worries,” He says quietly. Jia turns on his lap and Chongyun reaches around the baby to rebuild the tower. “See? All better.”

Jia claps her hands together and babbles loudly.

Chongyun was never a fan of babies. They cried, smelled, and cried more. But Jia was different. There was something about the little girl that could light up the darkest of rooms.

It was when Xiangling and Xinqiu came back into the living room that Jia’s happy demeanor changed. Chongyun had to put her down onto the ground for a moment and Jia took that as a direct slap in the face.

She starts crying - loudly.

“Mama’s sleeping!” Xiangling said, scooping Jia into her arms. “Look what I have?”

With her free hand, she held up a teething cookie towards Jia. Only this wasn’t enough to soothe the baby.

“How do they do it?” Xinqiu wondered, plugging his ears.

“Read one of your books to her!” Xiangling suggested.

“Are you crazy? They aren’t appropriate for a baby!”

Chongyun sighed and took Jia from Xiangling’s arms. “I’ve got this,” He said firmly. He propped Jia onto his hip and sat down onto the couch with Jia tucked snuggly into his arms. He felt her wet cheeks rub against his shirt.

Xiangling and Xinqiu watched Chongyun do nothing.

The teenager held Jia for what seemed like hours until she finally calmed down. She relaxed so much, in fact, that she fell asleep against Chongyun’s shoulder.

“How did you do that?” Xiangling asked, amazed.

Chongyun shrugged, “Call me the baby whisperer.”

taglist (if you want to be added)

@sugalizard @aestherin @kaiswasteland @sarahyumiko2 @xillusion @s-is-a-rattt @fyodoriist @asstsumo @x-zho​ @yuuuumiiin @jahnvi-d @kiss-my-axe @poweredbyghostadventures @mercurysmaiden @asstsumo @crapimahuman @cysperia @tempehlust @yyxy27 @simpforyaemiko​ @cysperia​

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

-

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

-

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

-

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

-

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

-

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

-

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

-

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

-

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

-

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[alwaysmychoices]

Retirement Talks

Synopsis: Charlie decides to return to Edenbrook to meet Kyra for lunch, but little did she know that a scandal has rocked the hospital. During lunch, secrets on all sides are revealed - some of which make Charlie question if she should leave medicine altogether. 

Chapter 25 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: Teen 

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

Charlie was back in Edenbrook.

Not by her own desire, of course.

It was her therapist’s idea. She thought visiting Edenbrook would help Charlie so she could see it without the looming threat of a bioterrorist attack or meeting Ethan’s estranged mother. Her therapist hoped that it would ease Charlie’s anxiety and show her that Edenbrook really was just a building at the end of the day.

Not some evil place full of death and destruction. Even if it housed her most painful memories, those were just memories. She couldn’t fault the building itself.

She needed to stop fearing Edenbrook. If she didn’t, she could never return to Edenbrook.

Those were easy things to say – very appealing in its rationality.

But if it was just a building, it was a building haunted. The halls were lined with ghosts of memories long gone, seemingly forgotten by all but Charlie. All the hope and innocence she saw on her first day was replaced with stinging bitterness. She was afraid of what Edenbrook would take from her next.

She didn’t want to be here.

She probably would have left if she hadn’t made lunch plans with Kyra – who, of course, was late.

It had already been fifteen minutes since they’d initially planned to meet, and Charlie saw no sign of Kyra showing up any time soon. Charlie initially waited in the lobby, but after a text from Kyra that said she was stuck in an emergency staff meeting, Charlie moved to Kyra’s office to wait in privacy.

It was easier to wait there. Charlie had very few memories in the administrative wing of the hospital – even fewer negative ones. There were also fewer onlookers in Kyra’s office, and Charlie didn’t want to be stared at. Besides, Kyra kept snacks in her desk, and Charlie was starving.

This wasn’t the first time Charlie had stolen from Kyra’s snack drawer, so when she walked in, she knew exactly where it was.  A few months ago, lunches like these were regular occurrences. Then secrets – primarily Charlie’s relationship with Ethan – started to separate her from her friends, little by little. Most of her spare time was taken from her friends and immediately dedicated to the intoxicating and less than honorable pursuit of falling in love with Ethan Ramsey.

Charlie had been lying for a very long time.

Two months of her relationship – almost three. Even longer if she counted the build-up.

Her friends allowed it. She wasn’t sure why, but as she stole a Twizzler from Kyra’s desk, she had the distinct feeling that she didn’t deserve it.

Just before Charlie could lose herself in the depths of guilt and a dizzying inner monologue, her companion finally appeared.

20 minutes late, not that Charlie or her grumbling stomach were counting.

“Twizzlers, thank God,” Kyra skipped the pleasantries, instead making a beeline for her friend and the snacks in her hands. Kyra took a handful from the snack drawer and waited until she’d chewed through at least one before turning to Charlie.

Kyra looked amazing.

Particularly for being on death’s door only a month earlier.

Charlie wished she had been there for more of the recovery. After finding out Kyra survived the surgery, they had an emotional moment, and they frequented each other’s room in the hospital. But after the memorial service, Charlie and Ethan left town, and Charlie struggled once she returned to Boston.

During that time, Charlie visited Raf and Kyra. Sometimes, seeing them was the only time she left her apartment. But Kyra was the strongest of all of them – to no one’s particular surprise. Kyra returned to work within only a few weeks, and with Raf and Kyra still on leave, they primarily heard from her via text or rambling phone calls where Kyra shared hospital gossip they didn’t understand.

Looking at Kyra and Charlie, you could tell that one of them almost died, but you’d think it was Charlie, not Kyra. Kyra was stylish and trendy with high heels, a freshly shaved head, and a new series of gold ear piercings to celebrate her successful surgery. She oozed effortless coolness and accentuated it with a devilish smile everyone adored.

Charlie, on the other hand, hadn’t bounced back so smoothly. She’d dressed for the snow by picking up a pair of jeans she hadn’t washed in over a week, and coupled with her anxious expression, her style that usually read as classic and laidback seemed boring and stiff.

Or at least that was what Charlie felt like in comparison.

“Everything okay?” Charlie asked, claiming another Twizzler for herself as she settled comfortably on the edge of Kyra’s desk.

“Just the hospital freaking out,” Kyra grumbled, digging through her snack drawer for something else. She didn’t seem satisfied with any of her options, so she settled on a pack of fruit gummies from the bottom of the drawer.

“About what?” Charlie’s interest was piqued, though she tried to keep her tone casual. After staying home for so long, she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“Another crisis,” Kyra evaded her, “Which isn’t helping the dire financial straits the hospital was already in.”

“Oh… Are you sure you can still get lunch today?”

“Are you kidding!” Kyra’s eyes widened as if horrified by the idea of a cancellation, “After all that, I need lunch. Let’s get out of the hospital and actually go somewhere good.”

Kyra wanted to get Charlie out of the hospital. Something about her eagerness to do made Charlie suspicious but not enough so that she would push it further. She was so eager to leave – despite her therapist’s suggestions – that she quickly accepted the proposal.

“Sounds perfect,” Charlie agreed.

After only a few moments of discussion, they decided to go to a restaurant within walking distance. Despite its close proximity, it was unpopular with Edenbrook workers because it was notorious for slow service, a recipe for disaster for short lunch breaks. Charlie, who had nowhere else to be for the rest of the day, didn’t mind. Kyra, who regularly extended her break beyond its limit, suggested it on purpose so she could avoid their coworkers.

As they walked to the restaurant, Kyra silently lamented she’d brought Charlie to Edenbrook on the worst day possible.

But she smiled and kept it to herself.

When they took their seats, Kyra started her usual game of looking for the craziest thing on the menu and deciding she should get it just so she could live a little. She inspired Charlie to order something a little more adventurous than the basic chicken sandwich she’d been eyeing when they first walked in.

After they ordered, Kyra was smiling.

“What?” Charlie asked, “The chicken won’t be that spicy,” she felt the need to defend her order, assuming her friend was judging her hot chicken and waffles – an impulsive choice on Charlie’s part but familiar enough that she was comfortable with it.

“Not that,” Kyra rolled her eyes dramatically, still grinning though, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Charlie smiled back – genuinely.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Kyra shook her head as if shocked by their recent time apart.

“I know… I haven’t been around much,” Charlie admitted sheepishly, reaching for her water as if she could hide behind the glass.

She didn’t need to feel embarrassed about needing time after the attack to heal. But that wasn’t really what she was embarrassed about. It was the weeks of lying and hiding that preceded it.

“I’ve heard,” Kyra smirked softly into her drink.

“You’ve heard?” Charlie repeated, her heart rate spiking just a bit.

“I mean, even before everything happened, you were getting hard to find. And then, after the attack, you’re entitled to space, but…” Kyra smirked like she knew some grand secret, and Charlie’s stomach flipped. “Honestly, all of your roommates wonder where you are but are too polite to ask because of all you’ve been through.”

Charlie’s face fell.

Shit.

She should’ve known. Of course, they’d eventually put it together that she was often gone and frequently spent nights away, but she didn’t realize they were talking about it.

Charlie swallowed hard, and Kyra took that as her sign to continue.

“At first, they thought you were seeing someone casually and didn’t want to tell anyone after what happened with Raf, but then they thought they would have come around after the attack. For a little while, they thought you were with Raf and had secretly united after he broke up with his girlfriend because you guys were suddenly getting along again,” Kyra explained, watching as Charlie’s blanched with shock, “And he explained your absences a lot of the time, but he denied being your boyfriend, by the way. So, if you are having a secret love affair, you should know that your boyfriend denies it.”

“And do you guys still think I’m with Raf?” Charlie couldn’t believe there had been this much discourse about her absence. How many theories had they gone through?

“No,” Kyra shook her head, “You guys don’t act like a couple when you’re together. Plus, there’s no real reason to keep it a secret.”

Right…

Charlie was amazed Rafael hadn’t told her about all the gossip, but he was probably just trying to protect her from it.

“You guys aren’t, are you?” Kyra asked, just to be sure.

“No, definitely not,” Charlie insisted forcefully enough that Kyra was satisfied she was telling the truth.

“Good,” Kyra grinned in relief, “I already made a bet with Elijah that you two weren’t together, so he owes he me $20 now.”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.

Still, her curiosity burned.

“So, what are the other theories?”

Kyra raised an eyebrow, surprised Charlie was digging into it more. Clearly, something was there if she was this curious.

“Some are better than others. Aurora thought you might have a secret apartment to be by yourself. Sienna thinks you’re just going around to different supporters like Dr. Banerji when you need them. She usually thinks you’re at his cabin when you’re away. Bryce likes to joke that you’re out at bars on the prowl for a new boy toy,” Kyra winked with a laugh, “And then there’s this really funny one we came up with at Donahue’s, but it’s probably not true.”

“What is it?” Charlie pushed.

Kyra blushed. She was embarrassed to tell her how crazy their conspiracies had become.

“Well… it’s just that Dr. Ramsey’s been really supportive and protective since the attack. And we all saw how devastated he was right after. Plus, he’s the one who took you to Dr. Banerji’s cabin,” Kyra began, but the way she spoke made it clear she thought it was unlikely.

But she was right.

“After everything that happened with you last year, I know that you probably wouldn’t even give him the time of day, especially since you’d started dating other people right before you got sick. But… we thought you and Dr. Ramsey were, you know, together.”

Kyra expected an emphatic rebuttal or an amused laugh. Instead, Charlie stared.

“You weren’t, right?” Kyra laughed, waiting for her expected response.

“Um…” Charlie hesitated.

She wondered if she should keep lying.

But she couldn’t fathom it, not anymore.

“I was, actually,” Charlie said it casually, like it wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation that she had reunited with the man who broke her heart last spring.

Kyra was stunned to silence.

So stunned that she hardly noticed the waitress deliver their meals. Charlie thanked her on behalf of both of them.

Charlie waited for Kyra to do something.

Literally anything.

But she was just staring.

“We were actually together before the attack, though,” Charlie spoke up, trying to fill the silence. She kept her tone nonchalant in hopes it would keep the conversation that way, reducing the impact of her truth, “About a month. Not including the back and forth preceding it, where we slept together a few times.”

Kyra’s eyes widened more and more until they couldn’t possibly get wider.

“I thought you liked David! Didn’t you go out with him to get over Ethan?” Kyra asked, having set up them up just so Charlie could stop crushing on her boss.

“I did like him! But… I only saw him once. And I actually cut that date short because Ethan called me drunk, and I wanted to check on him,” Charlie admitted sheepishly.

“And that’s when you decided to be with Ethan?”

“No,” Charlie averted her eyes, “It was about a week later, I think. We, um… we had sex in Ethan’s office. We didn’t mean to do that, but as you already know, it wasn’t the first time. So, Ethan suggested that we start an actual relationship. I said no initially, but the next day, I said yes.”

“You’re in a relationship?”

“Oh… yeah,” Charlie winced, realizing her friend thought they were just sleeping together.

“How serious?”

“Like we’ve met each other’s parents, and we regularly say, ‘I love you’ serious,” Charlie’s voice got higher as she spoke until she was almost squeaking.

This was crazy. She’d been having a secret relationship – and not the kind where you text someone and show up at their door. She’d been building something meaningful with Ethan. She loved Ethan. She truly wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ethan, and along the way, she’d forgotten that her friends had no idea.

“Holy. Shit,” Kyra’s jaw dropped, and she leaned in close, “Tell me everything.”

She was smiling, and Charlie let out a deep sigh of relief.

So, Charlie told her.

Their promise to have a one-night stand. The way they pulled away and always came back. Her first date with David and the night she spent with Ethan. The morning where they shared breakfast and became friends again. The night in Ethan’s office where he offered a relationship and her teary acceptance the next night. The first time they said I love you. The way he helped put her back together after the attack. Their fight about her returning to Edenbrook. Everything.

Kyra was enthralled.

She asked more questions.

Most of which involved how Ethan was in bed. The others questioned how such an asshole could be a good boyfriend. And most importantly, why they’d kept it a secret.

On that front, Charlie didn’t have a great answer.

It was obvious why they kept it a secret from most of the hospital. The hospital didn’t approve of interdepartmental relationships, particularly if one party was a superior. It could jeopardize her place on the Diagnostics Unit, and rumors of sleeping to the top could damage her career permanently.

But why she didn’t tell her friends?

At first, just to keep the secret from spreading and maybe because she thought they’d think it was a terrible decision. Then… as time went on, it was just harder to share.

Though disappointed with Charlie’s lack of an answer, Kyra loved the conversation.

A few months ago, she’d strongly urged Charlie to stay away from Ethan, convinced he could only hurt her if they got any closer. But now that Ethan had seemingly proved himself, Kyra was eager to hear everything.

The rest of lunch was spent dishing on Charlie’s secret relationship and gossiping about the fabulous men – and the gorgeous woman – Kyra had been casually seeing in the last few weeks. Out of all of them, the only one who came close to acting like a partner was ironically Bryce – the only one she wasn’t sleeping with. Charlie, as always, encouraged Kyra to ask Bryce out and act on their perpetual flirting. Kyra just waved off the suggestion.

It wasn’t until the end of the meal that the conversation naturally drifted back to the financial state of Edenbrook and the resulting long hours Kyra had been working.

Kyra forgot why she didn’t bring it up earlier. She forgot that, as much as she loved Charlie, certain topics were still of limits. Something about the conversation made Kyra feel safe and comfortable – like she was catching up with an old friend, not protecting her from a hospital tragedy.

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Charlie confessed, signing her name on the check as they collected their things to leave.

“The whole thing’s on the verge of collapse,” Kyra sighed, “We’re trying everything –even begging our donor list to the point where they hate us. And things are going to get so much worse after today…”

“Today? What happened today?” Charlie asked curiously. Kyra, who had just looped her arm through Charlie’s, stilled as she realized her mistake.

“Just a little crisis. Nothing we can’t handle,” Kyra murmured casually.

“Is that why you had the emergency meeting?” Charlie prodded innocently, unaware of the change in her friend.

“Mmmhmm,” Kyra hummed avoidantly.

“Well… What was it?” Charlie asked again, growing more intrigued by the minute, “There hasn’t been an emergency admin meeting since someone tried to kill me. And before that, the last one was when Mrs. Martinez’s family threatened to sue. It’s got to be something big.”

And it was.

Something monumental and horrible.

“It’s not great,” Kyra warned, “You probably don’t want to hear about it…”

Well, now Charlie had to know.

“Kyra,” she said softly, pausing on the sidewalk once they exited the restaurant, “what is it?”

Kyra chewed on her lower lip, mulling over the decision on whether or not to tell her.

If Kyra was the one to tell her, at least she could control the way the information was spread. Charlie wouldn’t first be exposed to the news through sensationalized gossip or accusatory questions.

Maybe it was better this way.

“An intern made a mistake, or we think it was a mistake,” Kyra began, her hand resting on Charlie’s arms as they moved through the bitterly cold city. Even with their heavy jackets, they huddled together for warmth, and Kyra was comforted by Charlie’s closeness.

“A mistake,” Charlie repeated, the cogs in her brain already churning.

The last time the administrative wing panicked because of an intern mistake, it had been her own.

“What unit?” Charlie asked, hoping it would be something completely unrelated to her line of work. Maybe surgery made the wrong cut or psych misdiagnosed. Even dermatology was capable of mistakes if they tried hard enough.

“Diagnostics,” Kyra’s soft voice was almost lost to the roar of the Boston streets.

Charlie knew.

Without being told, she knew exactly what happened.

And the fact it came so easily to her meant that she had known the risk before now.

She let it happen.

“Esme,” Charlie blurted out her assumption. She prayed that Kyra would correct her.

“How did you know?” Kyra asked, bewildered.

Charlie winced.

“And the patient was Levi Coates.”

“Did someone already tell you?” Kyra’s eyes were so wide they took up most of her face. She was astonished – maybe even a little relieved she wouldn’t have to share the gory details if Charlie already knew.

Charlie couldn’t speak.

Without either noticing, the crosswalk turned green.

Most of the lunch rush had already left the city streets and returned to their office building, so the sidewalks weren’t crowded. Only a few people stood next to Charlie and Kyra, and once the light changed, they left the pair on the sidewalk by themselves.

“No…” Charlie murmured finally, only becoming aware of the crosswalk once it turned red again and stranded them in their original location.

No one needed to tell Charlie.

It all came back to her in horrific detail.

The day she came back to work – her last day before she abandoned Edenbrook and the care of her intern.

Esme acted strangely. She said things she shouldn’t have said to Charlie. She asked dangerous questions. She was too close to Levi – and too willing to take on the risks involved with helping him. And the party…. The party should have been a sign. No one survived a party at Edenbrook, it seemed.

But back then, Charlie couldn’t take it on. She was too fragile and overwhelmed to assume the responsibilities, stress, and mistakes of another. She couldn’t care for herself enough to teach someone else.

She’d left Esme.

She assumed someone would take over, spot it, and do something.

Or her little warning speech would be enough to warn Esme off from career-ruining misery.

But now, Charlie saw it wasn’t enough.

She failed Esme. She failed Edenbrook, and now she failed Levi.

Charlie didn’t want to ask what Esme had done, but she hoped it was benign – something like threatening a parent and having a lawsuit thrown in her face. She couldn’t watch another bright young intern lose a patient and devastate a family.

“What happened?” Charlie asked, not to sate curiosity but to be prepared. She knew that everyone would stare and whisper once she walked into Edenbrook again.

She didn’t look at Kyra as the light finally turned green again. While Kyra collected her thoughts, Charlie tugged her friend across the crosswalk.

Kyra sighed. There was no right way to say it, but even still, it felt wrong to say, “Levi died.”

Charlie’s world felt like it ended again.

“What?”

Charlie stopped in the middle of the street. Locked into her arms, Kyra was stuck there with her.

“She overdosed him. After everything his body went through, he couldn’t take it,” Kyra explained, looking at the crosswalk sign as she was eager to get out of the road.

“So, it was an accident?” Charlie meant to clarify, but it sounded more like a demand.

“Well…” Kyra swallowed, “We’re not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“She was close to the patient, and judging by the interviews we’ve conducted thus far… it’s possible that she did this to spare him, most likely with his permission. And that’s the result the admin office wants.”

“Why would they want that? That’s illegal in Massachusetts,” Charlie demanded, seemingly oblivious to the countdown on how much longer they had in this street.

“Charlie, let’s get out of the road,” Kyra implored.

“Just tell me.”

Kyra huffed, eyes scanning the cars waiting for the green light to run them over. Backed into a corner, she confessed, “Because, if she did, the hospital isn’t liable, and we can’t afford the lawsuit right now.”

Oh my God.

Finally, Charlie took a step, and Kyra immediately ushered them to the other side of the street. Only moments later, cars roared through the intersection, much to Kyra’s relief.

But Charlie was disgusted.

She was horrified. She hated that a death had turned into money so quickly. She hated that she hadn’t saved Esme and Levi. She hated that her experience with Mrs. Martinez had been repeated in another generation.

For the next block or so, Kyra and Charlie walked in silence.

Then Edenbrook came into view.

That place.

Full of death and destruction. Pain and misery. Mistakes and heartache.

An anxious building was suddenly clothed in danger.

She hated it. She hated the whole place and all it had done to those she cared about.

Kyra watched her carefully, hoping that she wouldn’t have to leave her friend in a bad state. Finally, she asked, “Should I not have told you?”

“No, you should have,” Charlie murmured, “Better you than someone like Declan Nash telling me it’s a tradition.”

Kyra squeezed Charlie’s arm, wishing she could absorb whatever terrible emotions she felt. She’d been through enough already.

“Do you think it was an accident?” Charlie bit her lip, unsure if she wanted the answer, “If only you got to decide, what would you do?”

“Me?” Kyra considered it, “I don’t know. I’ve only read a few interviews, and I hardly know her. But… looking at his file, I wouldn’t blame Esme if she did. With parents who wouldn’t allow him to give up, he didn’t have many other options, but… I don’t want her to get blamed for this for the sake of a hospital budget.”

Charlie appreciated Kyra’s fair consideration, but personally… Charlie felt sure of what Esme had done. And she couldn’t blame her, not when she saw Levi’s suffering. But it felt like a failure on Charlie’s part nonetheless. She should have been there to find other alternatives before it came to this.

They were close to Edenbrook now.

Soon, they’d say goodbye.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kyra inquired. She wouldn’t leave her friend like this, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t bring her back to the chaos in the administrative wing, and aside from Rafael, all of their other friends were currently working in Edenbrook, the source of the tragedy.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie affirmed half-heartedly.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Kyra asked casually. Or it was supposed to sound casual – because, in actuality, it definitely wasn’t. Kyra wanted to know that Charlie wasn’t going to mope about all day or go on a downward spiral after the news.

“Not particularly,” Charlie shrugged, “While I’m here, I think I’ll run up and see Ethan.”

“Your boyfriend?” Kyra teased, and Charlie shot her a glare. Kyra nudged her playfully, “You should tell everyone, you know.”

“I will… eventually.”

“Eventually? So, they’ll find out by getting a wedding invite?”

“I’ll tell them when it’s time,” Charlie insisted, a ghost of a smile creeping across her lips at the joke.

“Just make sure I’m there when you tell Bryce. I want to see his reaction. Promise me, okay?” Kyra demanded once they got to the front door.

“Okay,” Charlie agreed weakly, feeling the color drain from her face as she stepped inside.

“Alright…” Kyra sighed, hesitating to leave. She balanced on either foot as she tried to think of a reason to stay, but ultimately, she just gave Charlie a hug, “Call me later, okay?”

Charlie nodded her agreement.

Kyra wasn’t totally satisfied, but she walked back to the admin office anyway.

Leaving Charlie in Edenbrook.

This building. This horrible building.

Charlie started walking to Ethan’s office on autopilot, but the halls plagued her. Ghosts of patients lost, mistakes made, and heartaches received whispered to her. And then they screamed.

The panic built in her chest – mixing with her sense of regret and responsibility.

Everything here had been a devastating failure.

In her blind rage, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Ethan felt something similar as he walked to his office.

He’d spent his lunch break with Naveen. Their scheduled lunch had been disrupted by a crisis with Dr. Ortega, and their resulting time together amounted to picking up food from the cafeteria and eating it in Naveen’s office between emergency meetings.

This lunch turned into what Ethan usually called Naveen’s “retirement talks.” Every year or so, Naveen would tire of the politics and stress associated with their profession. He would meet Ethan for drinks or dinner, and he would propose a retirement. Throughout the meal, Naveen would build a fantasy of retirement – one where he read, fished, and hosted dinner parties with frequency. Ethan played the role of reminding Naveen why he loved his job. At the end of all of these talks, Ethan’s side always won because, truthfully, Naveen was never looking to retire. After all, even when Naveen almost died, he couldn’t stay retired for even a week after his recovery.

But today was different.

Today, during the hurried meal, Naveen hadn’t built a fantasy. He reflected on the reality of their job and the pain it can produce. The death of Levi Coates and the accusations against Dr. Esme Ortega were proof enough that this was a difficult burden to bear. Naveen felt responsible. So did Ethan.

It was Ethan’s department, and she worked under Ethan – not that Ethan could say he’d given much effort to her education recently. He’d been so entangled in his own life that he hadn’t been much of an attending. Perhaps he could have taught her something to prevent this.

Then there was the day Charlie came back to work… He’d seen Ortega. She’d been up to something. If Ethan hadn’t been so focused on Charlie, he would have seen it. He could have done something.

Though he felt similarly, he lacked Charlie’s rage and depth of pain.

So, when he opened his office door and saw his beloved girlfriend standing there, he smiled. Because it felt like old times, if just for a minute. When they were so eager for time together that they’d meet here in secret…. His heart ached for the innocence of that time.

Then, he remembered she was still nervous in Edenbrook, and she was pacing the room anxiously. This couldn’t be a romantic visit.

Ethan closed the door behind him quickly and greeted her with confusion, “Charlotte?”

“You know about Esme,” Charlie skipped pleasantries.

In the comfort and safety of this office, the apprehension poured out of her. In front of him, she was going to lose it.

Ethan frowned.

He wished she hadn’t found out yet. It was the last thing she needed.

“So, you know too then?” Ethan clarified, turning the lock on his office door out of precaution.  

Charlie didn’t answer. She just held her breath, sucking in air through her nose and holding it in her chest. She thought it would calm her. It didn’t.

“This is my fault,” she decided.

“You weren’t even here!” Ethan objected.

“But she’s my intern.”

“You were mine,” Ethan stepped towards Charlie, “And I never took responsibility for Mrs. Martinez’s treatment.”

“But you were there to teach me. You did what you could. I wasn’t there for Esme. I wasn’t even here at all!” Charlie retorted.

“What do you think you could have done?” Ethan asked, knowing she was expecting too much of herself.

“I knew something was wrong, Ethan. Esme was acting inappropriately. She asked me questions about ‘doing the right thing’ even when it’s not allowed. I should have told someone or at least told her more about what happened to me. All I did was give her a short speech and then leave,” Charlie huffed, “I failed her.”

Ethan felt strongly that she hadn’t. Or even if she had, she was justified given her traumatic near-death experience only a few weeks ago.

“You didn’t administer the dose. You’re not responsible.”

Charlie paused, her green eyes boring into his. He felt exposed as she seemed to read his rawest emotions with ease. And to prove it, she inquired, “You feel no responsibility then?”

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to lie.

Charlie shook her head as if unsurprised, and she began to pace again.

The panic was rising, and tears prickled at her eyes.

“This fucking place,” Charlie scorned, “All I wanted to be was a doctor. I thought I would come here and learn from the best. I thought I’d leave tired and deeply in debt but satisfied with my decision. And at every turn, something horrible happens. Why am I even here? I came here to help people, but who has been helped? Levi? Mrs. Martinez? Bobby?”

“Charlie…” Ethan eyes softened, “You’ve helped a lot of people.”

“Not enough. Not enough for this…” Charlie felt like she was breaking.

She was cracking and splintering. She was giving up.

“Why am I even trying to be a doctor if I’m just getting people killed?”

“Charlotte,” Ethan didn’t expect to react so viscerally, but something about her accusation stung him deeply. He placed either hand on her shoulder and insisted, “You haven’t killed anyone.”

“I can’t do this,” she shook her head so quickly, so fervently that her snow-dampened curls flew, “I can’t come back here. I can’t come back to Edenbrook, where nothing goes right and everyone gets hurt. Ethan… I’m leaving medicine.”

He could have sworn the earth stopped turning.

“Charlotte,” Ethan began, prepared to give a speech on why she was wrong, but she cut him off.

“I’ve already made up my mind. I made it up before I even got here. I can’t take another tragedy in this hospital. I can’t keep going, Ethan. I’m literally building up my tolerance just to stand in this office! How am I supposed to practice again?”

“You haven’t given yourself enough time!” Ethan asserted.

“It’s been over a month. How much more time will it take, Ethan?”

“Naveen is willing to give you as much time as you need.”

“But when is enough time? Ethan, there isn’t enough time! I am broken. I lost the instinct. I can’t do it anymore,” she felt like she was begging him to understand, just as he was begging her to change her mind.

“You are not broken, no matter what. You haven’t even tested the instinct to know if it’s lost,” Ethan knew that pinpointing the holes in her argument would do little to sway her, but it felt like all he had.

“I can’t keep going like this, Ethan,” Charlie said so passionately that Ethan instantly knew she was right. His hand went to hers, and he squeezed it.

“I know…” he murmured.

For a second, she thought she’d won. But the racing panic and horror didn’t leave her mind…

“But you don’t have to quit to change this,” Ethan decided.

Charlie frowned, but having decided on his mission, Ethan ignored her. He went to his desk and collected the chart for the newest patient of the Diagnostics Team – a patient they hadn’t even seen yet.

He handed the file to her and told her, “Read it.”

“I’m not even on duty. I can’t read this,” Charlie dropped the chart back to his desk.

“You can, and you are. And read it quickly because you’re going with us to meet the patient.”

“I’m on leave.”

“I’m your supervisor, and if you’re going to quit, I’m taking you off leave first,” Ethan determined.

It was a risk.

He could either change her mind or make it much, much worse.

“You should grab your jacket. The patient is at a ski resort, and we’re leaving in half an hour,” Ethan announced authoritatively.

She could say no, of course. She was very good at calling him out on his bullshit, particularly when he claimed authority he didn’t have. But he didn’t think she would because she wanted to know just as much as he did.

“So, what? You don’t want to leave me alone when I’m upset, and you think you can entice me back into work with a mystery? Is that what you have planned?” Charlie accused Ethan.

“No,” Ethan stood firmly, “I’m bringing you because I know you’ll solve it, and you need a reminder of all the good you’ve done here.”

Charlie made a show of rolling her eyes. She hated that he dared to fight her on her own career decisions, particularly after everything she’d been through. But she still reached for the chart. Just as he suspected, she didn’t continue the fight. Instead, she gathered her coat and started reading about the patient.

She wanted to know if Ethan was right.

And honestly… part of her hoped he was.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for continuing to support this series! I didn’t mean to take this last hiatus, but with finishing up my semester, graduating, saying goodbye to friends, and moving, I ended up needing more time than I originally imagined.

Please share your thoughts on this chapter - and Kyra finding out!

[don-quixotine]

Adrinette April Day 2: Rebellion

@adrinetteapril

Read on AO3  scene adapted from Chapter 9 of The Wall Between Us

Marinette let go of a long sigh as she reclined her back against the cool wood of the bench. She was at the park next to her house. It had been a long, long day at school and she was happy that it was finally behind her. Sketching for a few minutes, sitting under the cool shade of a tree always helped her shed the frustrations of the day; particularly one as taxing as this one. She made herself comfortable on the bench, took a deep breath, and gathered her creativity, focusing it at the tip of her pencil as she prepared to spill it into a design. As she did this, she lifted her sight to find the muse of the day, something that might be worth putting into paper. 

Something like... Adrien sneaking out of fencing practice?

The girl observed him from a baffled distance, witnessing the way he sported an uncharacteristic devious smirk on his face as he hurriedly descended down the steps of the school, two at a time. He looked to each side of the street, as if looking for spies, and darted in Marinette’s direction; to the park. 

The comical then happened: Stepping into the park, he shed his usual white overshirt and shoved it into his sports bag, produced an unassuming grey hoodie along with an insulting neon green cap, and quickly put them on. Merrily, he walked with a light spring towards the park kiosk to buy himself a soda and then proceeded to find a bench to sit on. 

Witnessing Adrien being so evidently pleased at breaking the rules was like watching a cat walk on its hindlegs: bizarre, to say the least. 

Marinette giggled at his confidence; at how sure he seemed that no one would be able to tell his identity under this poorly-thought disguise. She gathered the courage to go talk to him, just for a quick hello. Making the most of the fact he had not spotted her yet, she approached from behind him.

“FYI, you stick out like a sore thumb with that cap on,” she said, startling Adrien and prying a tiny gasp from him.

“Marinette!” he cried, tugging at his cap as if doing so might conceal his face better. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um... Designs,” she said lamely, lifting her sketchbook for Adrien to see. “But what are you doing here? Don’t you have fencing today?”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “How do you--”

Marinette’s face became red with embarrassment, quickly interrupting him hoping she hadn’t exposed the things she knew about him. “Just a lucky guess, heh, heh.” 

“I’m sneaking out,” he said, scanning the surroundings. 

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because you never know. Natalie always catches me. Sometimes I feel like she tapped my phone or something.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a sympathetic smile, with her courage quickly returning to her to poke fun at him a little more, “Well, one thing is for sure. You’re making it easy for her with that neon green thing on you.” 

“It’s the only cap I could find in the morning! Is it really that bad?”

“Take it off. You call less attention without it,” Marinette said with a giggle. “You wouldn’t be able to hide your identity for the life of you.”

Adrien laughed. “I’ll have you know I have excellent camouflaging skills.”

“Right, right. And I’m Ladybug.” 

Adrien grinned at her. His delighted heart missed a beat or two as he relished in the possibility. 

“Anyway,” Marinette said, nervousness building up inside of her at the prospect of being alone with Adrien. “I should probably get going, good luck with the sneaking out.”

“Wait!” Adrien said, more disappointed than he wanted to sound. “I, um... Would you like to spend some time with me? We could find something to do. If you’re not busy, that is.” 

Marinette ignored the warm blush that crept on her cheeks. “What-- yes. Co fourse! I mean of course! I mean--heh. Yeah, what--what did you have in mind?” 

Adrien beamed at her, stood up, and then gave her a little devilish smirk. Marinette couldn’t help but be both a little worried and infinitely curious to know what sorts of trouble Adrien wanted to get into.

They headed back to the kiosk again, this time with the mission of filling Adrien’s backpack with as many snacks as they could fit. To the clerk’s satisfaction, that involved practically emptying the little hut out of the day’s stock. 

Loot packed up and horrible neon green caps out of the way, Adrien led Marinette to stage two of his plan. They headed a few blocks away from the park, to a residential area where Adrien started testing for unlocked front doors in the apartment buildings. 

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, a bit bewildered. 

“Looking for an open door,” Adrien explained, simultaneously finding what he was searching for. “Ah! Success!” he exclaimed, pushing the door open. “After you prin--After you.”

Marinette gave him a suspicious look but did his bidding, following him inside and then onto the building’s stairs. 

“Adrien what are you doing?” Marinette asked again, more evidently worried. “We’re going to get in trouble!” 

“No, we’re not,” he assured her as he consistently climbed up the staircase. “Trust me.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’ve done this before,” she said as she reached the very last floor, finding Adrien negotiating with the lock of the only door there. 

He pulled what looked like a fancy, metal credit card from his wallet, and used to click the lock open. Marinette snorted at the sight. 

“Why use a platinum credit card in the Champs Elysees when you can use it to perform a misdemeanor,” Marinette said. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Adrien said with a wink, pushing the door to the roof open and seizing an indistinct brick that lay there to prevent the door from shutting close. 

“You are an actual teenage vandal aren’t you,” Marinette said, absolutely bewildered at Adrien’s criminal tendencies. “So is this how you spend your free time? Breaking into people’s roofs?”

Adrien giggled as he found a spot to sit near the edge of the building. “In a way, I guess you could say that.” 

Marinette shook her head, still in shock as she joined Adrien. 

Worried at her silence, and that she might think less of him for this little escapade, Adrien hurried to look for her validation. “Are you mad? I swear I’ve only done it a couple of times and if it makes you really uncomfortable we can go down. I’m sorry.” 

Marinette turned to see Adrien’s worried, expectant face. “What? No, no. I’m not mad! It’s okay. It’s just... I never thought you had it in you to be this...”

“Bad?” he asked, sadness staining his tone.

“Rebellious,” she offered instead. “It’s a bit odd. At school, you’re always so, so... perfect.”

Adrien scrunched up his nose. “I know, I hate it,” he confessed, pulling his legs to his chest responding to a subconscious need to hide. 

Trying not to delve too much into the thought, he reached for the bag where the snacks were and emptied their little treasure between them. He gestured for Marinette to have the first pick, which she indulged by grabbing a bag of chips and a bottle of sparkling pink lemonade. 

Adrien grabbed a pack of fruit gummies and plain sparkling water as he spoke again. “Most of the stuff I do, I do it for my father.” He sighed and then continued quietly. “But it doesn’t matter how hard I work, it always feels like it’s not good enough for him and I’m tired of pretending to be someone I am not.”

Marinette’s heart wrung at Adrien’s confession. A small part of her did wonder what brought him to trust her like this so out of the blue, but this and any of her other reservations flew out the window at the sight of him being so evidently upset. It pained Marinette to see him like that.

“I’m so sorry, Adrien,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I mean, I’m sorry that... that your father makes you feel that way.”

Adrien looked down, hugging his legs a little tighter. 

“But you can always be yourself around me,” she offered, with her voice trembling.

Adrien’s saddened pout slowly melted into a warm smile. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I like spending time with you, Marinette. You’re the greatest friend I could possibly have asked for.”

She tried not to pay too much attention to the utter disappointment that washed over her at the idea of Adrien seeing her as just a friend. Instead, she focused on the part that mattered: That he could have someone with whom he didn’t feel the need to pretend or put up an act. As Ladybug, she knew the burden all too well and didn’t wish it on anyone, certainly not on Adrien.

“Yep,” she said. “That’s what friends are for! Heh, heh.” 

“And um, you, too.”

“Me, too?”

“I mean, you don’t have to pretend around me...” he said, taken aback by the fact he was inexplicably blushing. “I notice that you always get, er... a little tongue-tied.”

“Oh!” Marinette piped, perking up with the dread that suddenly seized her. “That. Ha, ha. That’s nothing! I just... have... uh... you know me. I don’t-- I, why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, shrugging. “It’s just, this is the first real conversation you and I have ever had. It’s... nice. I wish we could do it more often.” 

Marinette laughed nervously, beyond herself with mortification and wondering whether Adrien actually knew the kind of influence he had on her. Maybe he did and he just enjoyed messing with her.

“I just... get a little nervous, that’s all,” she said sheepishly.

“Why? Is it because I’m famous?” Adrien said, adopting a smug flair. One that helped Marinette overcome her embarrassment faster than she could say ‘Lucky Charm’. She didn’t know exactly why, but Adrien’s smug, rebellious side--the side she had been witness to for the good part of the last few hours, helped her feel more at ease, more willing to use her own sass on him.

She rolled her eyes and playfully jabbed him with her arm. “You’re so full of yourself, aren’t you?  And here I was, thinking you were a perfectly polite, quiet, well-behaved boy. How wrong I was.”

“I’m all of those things!” Adrien protested as he shoved an indiscriminate handful of gummies into his mouth and leaned back. “But, you know,” he added with a small wink. “What other people don’t know, won’t kill them.”

“Show-off,” Marinette teased. 

“Only with the right audience,” Adrien said, defending himself.

Adrien was about to remark how Marinette was one to talk. How she convinced him of being the class sweetheart when in reality she was as sassy as they come. Unfortunately, he’d have to save that joke for later, because as they bantered, an Akuma rose in the distance. 

Duty called. 

[mirismuffins-ovo]

Plant Palace pt 5🌿

[There was a time skip from the last chapter]

John and Eddie's relationship had been good and if anything they got closer as John's pregnancy progressed. There were some nights when John couldn’t help but be in pain feeling the rushed growth of the three babies stretching his belly. The maroon sweater and a few other articles of clothes were the only things left that really fit John's growing tummy. John had started to struggle working with such a large amount of weight. And his sensitivity had gone up immensely touch wise and whenever he touched plants they’d sprout out of proportion. Eddie had been more concerned about John and kept saying John should really start staying home. John always insisted that he was alright but after he had a harder time at work and a few rude customers came in they decided it was time to start planning for a visit to John's godparents.

John and Eddie were packing the car for the trip to his parents,it wasn’t super long but they were cautious for the sake of John. Knowing John needed lots of water snacks(sugar) and light,not to mention the weather had gotten colder recently. John adjusted his clothes as he sat down in the front seat,he was embarrassed of the weight he’d gained in his hips and some in his chest. As John did this Eddie got into the car and started the drive,John gave a soft smile at Eddie and rested his hands on his distended belly rubbing it gently. “I’m sorry if they act weird by the way,they are regular humans though”

Eddie was actually excited for the little road trip they were going to have. He was super proud of John and how far he had gotten over the past several weeks. He loved snuggling up to his boyfriend at night and playing with the babies, which he was still waiting for his turn to feel the outward kicks.

“I’m sure they’ll be splendid.” Eddie smiled. “I’m pretty excited to meet your family, know how you grew up or were raised. It could help us take care of the little ones.” An idea popped in his head. “Speaking of the sprouts, have you decided to name them?”

Eddie felt a small chill so he turned on the heater to warm them up a bit. He also planned to stop by a drive through coffee shop to grab some hot cocoa for the road. The older man was sure his boyfriend would love the surprise treat.

John gave an awkward look at first when he mentioned how he grew up and he focused on the second question. “I haven’t yet,I want your help with that if that’s alright?,I’m not sure what the little fruit gummies will look like when they’re here.” He smiled warmly and patted his belly feeling one of them kick. John was pretty excited to see the babies. “ Henry and Quinn are good people they’ll be pretty helpful,but do not listen to them when they say baby names” He laughed softly “not the best judgement with names,we had a cat named Pringle’s” He smiled at the memories,still gently patting his round belly. Nearing the small coffee shop Eddie pulled off the main road and John was a bit confused until he realized this was a surprise stop. His face lit up “Oooo are we getting cocoa” he couldn’t help but excitedly fidget. They were maybe just a bit farther out from his childhood home.

“Of course cocoa.” Eddie smiled, ordering two with extra whipped cream and marshmallows. Sprinkles for John’s. “I might have a few ideas on the baby names, but I’d want to see them first to confirm if they’ll fit.”

Then they took off down the road again. The two enjoyed the scenery, watching as they drove further north towards John’s godparents place. Finally after 6 hours of travel, they arrived just after the sun had set. Eddie could see John be a little nervous about seeing his family after he assumed it was a while. Eddie took his boyfriend’s hand as he turned off the car.

“It’ll be okay. I’m here with you and we can turn around now if you want to leave.”

There were a lot of memories in that house “no no it’s okay...I just don’t know how they’ll react to um “he looked at his tummy and then Eddie “I know they won’t be mad but it’s still awkward” he shrugged and took a deep breath as they got out of the car Eddie helping John down making sure he wouldn’t fall. Eddie grabbed their bags and John grabbed bittys carrier,she let out a soft tired meow waking from her nap. They walked up to the front door of a nice looking house,it was surrounded by large tall trees,there seemed to be no neighbors around for a distance. John hesitantly pressed the doorbell and he heard a shuffle from inside.

The door clicked open to reveal a tall man just a bit shorter than Eddie,he wore glasses and had brown hair and a sweater on his face was slightly scruffy and showed a few signs of graying with a few streaks in his hair. His face lit up brightly when he saw John “My little Johnny!” He said lovingly just before realizing that the small redhead had quite the large tummy covered by his sweater. Another person shorter than John and androgynous looking opened the door more “Oh my..John you’ve gotten fat” they said a bit shocked as they allowed the couple to step in from the cold.

John felt his face get hot with embarrassment “hello to you too Quin”

Henry had pulled John in for a hug trying to be careful with John's tummy “so is this your handsome husband?” He gasped slightly and looked at John with a raised eyebrow “I see you’ve inherited my taste in men John” he said teasingly. John was an embarrassed little mess dealing with his godparents.

Eddie blushed and felt a little bad for John. He wanted to speak up to correct the older man, but he kept his lips tightly closed. Instead he just smiled and helped with the bags. When they greeted the other man, he blushed a little further when he heard the compliment.

The house was lush and cozy, growing into a grandparent’s aesthetic, but also manly. He quite liked the subtle decoration. He stayed close to John as they were shown around the house. He dropped off the bags in their room for the weekend and continued to stay close. Although he knew these people were safe, he couldn’t help but feel protective of John. He offered John the chance to return home, but he was the one who wanted to hide and protect him and the babies.

Once the house tour was over, they all decided to relax in the living room for the evening until they had to go to bed.

It was the next morning and John woke up in the arms of his lover,who he’d found tiredly rubbing his plump tummy in a loving manner. “Morning” John smiled softly and nuzzled his face into Eddie's shoulder inhaling the lovely scent of him. John struggled to sit up with the weight of the babies,he huffed as he slouched in bed. “I can’t wait to meet them,but we should probably tell Henry and Quinn and see if they’ll be able to take care of them” John sat up and struggled to grab the clothes out of his bag on the floor,he wasn’t able to bend down,and had been needing help getting dressed. “I can’t reach it” he sighed, cradling his bulging tummy that rested in his lap while he sat back on the bed. He heard a light knock on the bedroom door and he heard Henry call for them to come to breakfast. Eddie had helped John get dressed and they went to breakfast together sitting down at the table that was covered in pancakes and assortments of fruits. Quinn set down a cup of tea for John and the coffee pot in the middle of the table.

John had proceeded to eat his breakfast and a large amount at that. He decided to speak up “so I’m pregnant..if you couldn’t tell” he cleared his throat glancing or a moment at Eddie still nervous,but he heard Henry squeal with joy and come over to and get on his knees “your having a baby????” He softly poked his tummy. Quinn humpfed and rose an eyebrow at this,it was obvious that Quinn didn’t like John too much.

John gave a soft laugh “three actually” he was shy about it but Henry couldn’t help but smile and place his hands on John's tummy and placed his ear close and lovingly listened. He could hear the shifting of the babies and laughed happily before giving John a big hug and looking at Eddie “congrats your two!” Quinn had started to clean up the table not saying anything

“It might be too dangerous to raise them in the city,there’s a chance that they might look too plant-like..so we were wondering if you could take care of them part time?” Henry looked like he was about to say yes,but Quinn’s voice rang out “No!” John looked startled and Henry whipped his head back to look at his partner.

Eddie didn’t bother to correct Henry’s joy when John brought up asking to help raise them. When Quinn shouted ‘NO!’ It shook them a little. Eddie noticed Quinn wasn’t too pleased to see John and with him being a complete stranger to the two, he could understand a little of the frustration. Clearly there was something here that Eddie was missing.

“I’m not sure of what’s going on between you and John, but I know little to nothing about Abnormals, Abnormal pregnancies, let alone plant children.” Eddie voiced. “I know it sounds so short but I’ve known John for over a year now and we’ve been together for a good four months or so, all he’s doing is asking for help.”

Eddie could see anger boil in Quinn’s eyes. Henry and John became quiet. He looked at all three and sighed. “Could we at least talk about this before making a final decision? If anything, think about John, when he shouldn’t be having stress on him. Both of us are unsure about all of this, the unexpected rock tossed into our short relationship but we’re both trying our best to figure this out. We’re not dumb teenagers who went and got ourselves knocked up. I just happen to be here when it’s brought up. We’re both functioning adults as much as we would love to care for the babies like any other family should when given the opportunity, there’s just that barrier, especially with America having a tight ass about things.” He looked over them all. “I deeply care about John, so just hear us out, please.

John was upset and he moved closer to Eddie for comfort. Henry was distressed about how his partner had reacted,Henry was more than happy to help John but then Quinn spoke again. “We’re not raising anymore abnormals Henry,I don’t know how you pamper him” Quinn raised a hand to point towards John with anger “DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT IT WAS LIKE RAISING HIM” they sighed with anger and shook their head. “Three more!? Continuing his bloodline,you know his parents and his past,another Prince-“

Henry snapped “that is quite enough” John could feel it hard to not cry but he kept calm and looked away at the floor,grabbing into Eddies hand.

“If they find we’re associated with the Prince family,which keep in mind could have happened while we raised him,but that never happened. There’s still places to hide them Quinn” Henry shook his head “I’m sorry about this John” He muttered to John and Eddie,seeing the small pregnant man looking upset.

Quinn continued “this is johns problem were not responsible for him anymore”

John took a shaky breath and tried to pull Eddie away “w-we should get going..it’s a long drive back” he said in the middle of the silence “im..sorry for asking about it”

“What…” Eddie was shocked at what just went down. He was forming more questions than answers. But John was already on the move pushing past them with tears in his eyes to pack the clothes he took out for the night while Eddie quietly gathered Bitty. He didn’t want to say anything but he now understood why John was nervous in the first place about even telling him.

What had John gone through growing up? Was Quinn always this rough on him? What is Quinn’s fault that John was so scared of humans? Where were they going to go now for help? He knew a ticket to Canada wasn’t cheap and to live there was too long a process. If the pregnancy was going how John said, faster and quicker, especially with three, they were pretty much out of time.

John was already 2 months gone into his pregnancy and could have them after the third. Plus with winter approaching, John was starting to lose his energy, another reason why Eddie wanted him to stop working. He was at a loss as he packed the car while John said farewell to Henry. A pit in his stomach formed for John, feeling that this would be the last time he would see the people who helped raise his boyfriend.

The younger man was sniffly and red-eyed by the time they got into the truck, Bitty settled between them. The ride was tense, silent. All Eddie could do was hold his hand. He was sure there was something they could do to solve this problem. But he promised he was going to stick by his boyfriend until the end, even if they were old in age.

“We’ll be okay.” He said, hoping the words would help a little, but knowing how things were, he pit in his stomach never left and wasn’t any time soon.

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [03]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, mentions of smut in future chapters w.c; 5k a/n; we’re finally getting into some traction with the main plot! who are we liking more so far, w1!jk or w2!jk?? 

[02] [03] [04]-> masterpost

Instead of going to the doctor, you take a trip to the library. If Namjoon thinks your ideas are  supernatural, you’re going to find someone who believes in the supernatural. 

He calls you in the morning just to make sure you’re going to his recommended doctor.  You fabricate a lie that the doctor friend he recommended is busy so you’re going to go find another one in the meantime. Just in case Namjoon decides to ask said doctor about your current mental and physical state, you want to make sure you cover your tracks. As much as you want to give it another go and help Namjoon understand your precarious situation, you weren’t up for another possibility of rejection. 

You wanted to avoid Namjoon’s rejection so much that you’d rather turn to unconventional alternatives to finding your answer. 

Unfortunately, Tony Stark and Steven Strange do not exist in this universe, and therefore you need to turn to more practical measures. 

Seoul University has a zillion libraries, and you decide to go to the general library in the hopes you’ll find something in the subject of world-hopping. Unfortunately you haven’t been in a huge library since you were a senior in college, and the smell of paper, sad students and ink all but overwhelms you. 

You’re about to start wandering when a young voice snatches your attention. “Miss,” you feel a tug at your belt loop, and you notice a little boy looking up at you with a pout. “I lost my way after using the bathroom and I can’t find the daycare.”

A little part of you wonders who on earth could’ve let a boy no older than five out of their sights, especially in such a spacious building. Alas, you smile and offer him your hand, suggesting that the two of you look for a map. 

“Well it’s a good thing we found each other!” you say brightly, encouraging the kid to follow you to the kiosk, “I was just about to look for a map because I’m a little lost too, we can read it together.” 

The boy tells you his name is Bogum, and you respond with yours and explain that it’s okay to get lost, especially when this library is so big. He listens to you with rapt attention, wide eyes as you spell out the words “daycare” using the little paper map you brought with you from the lobby. 

Bogum and you stop in front of a plain room with a cheap powder blue baby gate, deep in the children’s section of the library. It’s there that you spot five or so children huddled over the flatscreen television, ‘oh’ and ‘ah’-ing over whatever film’s prattling on. You’re not surprised that Frozen 2 remains a sensation in both worlds. 

Bogum opens the door first, and you make eye contact with the only adult in the room. He’s lean and friendly-looking, holding a child in their lap as they sing along to “Into the Unknown”. Your heart is caught in your throat, begging to be released as your eyes widen in surprise. 

“Hobi!” you blurt instinctively, but you immediately clamp your mouth upon realizing. You really need to get used to this, but honestly how can anyone get used to this kind of situation? Hoseok will definitely be the fourth person you’ve alarmed in the past five days. 

Hoseok’s jaw drops slightly, head tilted as the rest of the mini-crew train their eyes on you. You shrink in the presence of children, knowing from experience nothing gets by them. 

“Is that your girlfriend, Hobi-ah?”

“Do you know her, Mr. Hoseok?” 

“She looks scared, what did you do?” 

The affronted man presses his lips in a thin line, “Dunno,” he answers vaguely. He seems unperturbed, hands settling in his traffic cone orange sweatpants. He gestures to the snacks in the middle of the room, releasing the children’s inner fire for food, “but it’s fruit snack time! Go ahead and grab your water from the cubbies, you can eat while you watch.” 

The babies cheer, and you smile fondly as the kids rip open their packets and giggle over Olaf. You wish you could go back to simpler times. 

“So,” Hoseok stands up, and gestures for you to sit at the small kids table in the back, “Do I know you? I don’t know if I know you, but I feel like I know you. Because you know me.” 

Deciding you need to sit down for his bombardment you squeeze your legs into the worn Fisher-Price desk, running your nails over the crayon stains and pencil shavings. “Uh, no?” 

“Did we have a class together? Hook-up? Friend’s hook-up that I tried to coerce into a threesome?” 

“Ohmygod, there are children here!” you hiss, but Hoseok just smiles plainly, offering you a bag of fruit snacks that he snagged before the children emptied his bowl. You accept the gesture, unable to make eye contact. 

Seeing the members out of their clan of seven is still jarring to you. You can’t imagine a world without the seven of them together. Like they always say, Bangtan is fate. 

“I just wanted to return Bogum,” you say, crinkling the foil bag in your grasp, “and I’m actually looking for a professor who has her office hours here. I have uh, questions on my thesis on alternate universes.” 

“Ah, are you referring to Professor Song?” you nod, “she cancelled her office hours for today, if you bothered to email her. And anyways, she doesn’t take kindly to questions on supernatural phenomena. Not since her latest book on paranormal channeling tanked.”

Your face visibly falls, dejected. You probably should’ve tried to schedule an appointment. “O-oh.” 

“But as a non-judgemental soul, I would be happy to assist you on your ‘thesis’.” Hoseok  air-quotes, noting that the kids are only in the very beginning of Frozen 2 and they have a whole hour and a half to their own devices. “And in exchange, I want to know the real reason as to why you’re looking for her, especially because you referred to me so excitedly as Hobi, and not Hoseok,” he crosses his arms, “and only my mother and sister have the right to call me that.” 

You feel like a kid sent to the time-out corner, inevitably forced to fess up. It didn’t work out as well as you hoped with Namjoon, and you feared to be disappointed when Hoseok disagreed with you as well. Of course, you can’t blame them. If Hoseok came up to you and said he came from an alternate universe, you’d run for the hills. 

But Hoseok is sweet and sincere, and he’s definitely not letting you go. In fact, he’s empathetic, already distressed from seeing you sweating and wringing the poor fruit snack packet. 

He drags over a mini chalkboard cart, poised to take notes. “C’mon, I won’t bite.” 

You frown, “Promise you won’t laugh at me until the very end?” 

“Promise.” 

Forty minutes later and in the turning point of Frozen 2, Hoseok has drawn up what looks like a convoluted flowchart detailing every single thing you’ve said up until this point. It reminds you of a child’s drawing, symbolizing all the dead-ends and turns of your life, but you’re sure Hoseok doesn’t want to hear that. 

Within the first ten minutes of your story, Hoseok is shaking his head. “That’s crazy. C’mon, prove it. If we’re really friends in an alternate universe, how much do you know about me?” 

Hoseok's face falls farther and farther into his lap as you respond with a straight face. His birthday, favorite foods, hobbies, music taste, and even feelings towards melodramatic movies are laid out in your words like a personal diary. 

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Tell a secret that you know about me.” 

That stumps you. You make a face, stuffing a strawberry gummy in your mouth as you think about any conversation you could’ve possibly had with Hoseok in the past year. There’s a possibility that whatever happened to Hoseok in your world hasn’t happened in this one, but you have to at least try. 

With as much confidence as you can muster you say, “When you were in the 3rd grade, your older sister was playing with sticks in your backyard and accidentally stabbed you.” 

He narrows his carmine eyes, “Where?” 

“Left breast,” you chirp, “under the nipple.” 

Hoseok’s face twists like he’s in the 8th dimension, and he clutches his left breast comically. “You’re either psychic or telling the truth,” he marvels, nearly cracking the bud of chalk in his fingertips. 

You fight the urge to sigh in relief, running a hand through your hair. You can’t believe that actually worked. 

“Okay so obviously because I need to know my alter-self, what’s Jung Hoseok like in World One?” 

“World One?” you snort. 

“Yeah, since it’s your home world. This is World Two, because this is your second reality.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing, waving his hands in the air. 

“You’re a rapper and incredible dancer in the world’s top boy band.” and Hoseok doesn’t know whether to think you’re an impeccable actor or really telling the truth by the way you smile so tenderly. “And you managed to get your mom the barbeque restaurant she always wanted. Best place for pork belly wraps.”  

And because you know he’s a softie for his mother, you already have a tissue stretched out for him, confirming that you have him convinced. Seeing it all laid out terrifies him, not because he’s scared of someone infiltrating his reality, but because you’re lost. You’re lost and you can’t go home and he can feel like he’s known you all this time. Not because you know every single fact about him under the sun, but something tells him you were meant to find him today. 

“So, you got hit by a truck in World One, and end up in World Two just like that?” you nod again, and Hoseok starts to line up whatever code he’s created on the blackboard. “What were you doing before that?” 

“I went drinking with my friend Sehlyung.” 

“Uh-huh, and before that?” 

“Got into a fight with the guy I love.” 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“Even worse, he ended up being the first person I met once I entered your world.” 

Hoseok blinks, “That’s gotta count for something, right?” 

Your face sours, “Impossible. Jungkook didn’t recognize me either.” 

“Anything else happened that day? Perhaps something to do with the both of you? It can’t just be coincidence,” Hoseok insists, and you almost see the potential theories looming over his head. 

Wishing you bought some aspirin on your way, you pinch your brows together. You’ve recollected that night one too many times that it’s been starting to overwhelm you. You hate thinking back to how harshly Jungkook rejected you. How much his words pierced you clean like you were soft and breakable. The twist in the knife was seeing him again in this world, only for him to reject you again for an entirely different reason. 

“Wait,” you bite your lip, the final memory from your last conversation with Jungkook resurfacing. 

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

“He said maybe we’d be together in another world,” you say slowly, the words sinking in your form like a key to a lock. 

Hoseok snaps his fingers, a huge white grin beaming on his face. “Shit, this is straight out of the Twilight Zone or something. Cool!” 

It’s then that the credits roll for Frozen 2, and the children are pouncing on him like leeches to a sweet treat. They laugh and beg for his attention, teasing him because he said the s-word. 

“I’m sure this Jungkook kid has something to do with why you’re here—ow, Haneul! My hair is precious!” Hoseok is busy fending off kids and trying to continue your conversation. He gets up from the tiny chair to prevent them from reaching, and you follow suit. “In the meantime,” he reaches for your phone, typing something, “here’s some books Professor Song recommended to me when I was fascinated in alternate universes. Maybe they’ll help, I don’t know. But good luck, update me when you get a chance! I work here most days.” 

“Thanks Hoseok,” and before you can second guess yourself, you find space between the children to wrap your arms around him. Thankfully, he doesn’t push you away, and hugs you back just as tightly. You can’t help it, and bury your face into his shoulder, trying to conceal your sobs. He even smells like World One Hoseok. You miss them. 

The rest of your afternoon is spent in the library, searching for book after book regarding the supernatural and other phenomena. A little part of you hoped Hoseok would join you in your navigation, but he had a job and you had yours. He already offered you an ear and much, much more. 

You feel a little stir-crazy, despite the fact that these books could contain important information, only Jungkook’s words seem to register in your brain. 

“Maybe in another world, we’d work out. But not this one.”

You groan, stretching out your back so you could reach the final book out of Hoseok’s recommendations. You blush when your joints complain about your lack of exercise and sudden exertion of physical activity. This last one just so happens to be on the highest possible shelf. There’s really no need to have more than five books on supernatural phenomena, but you’re already here and it’s vermillion red cover is taunting you like a bull to its matador. 

Fuck it. Making sure no librarians are watching, you hop on the first shelf, heels dangling in the air. You could climb trees like it was nothing when you’re a child, but ten years later you can feel all the joints in your body protest at the sudden bout of athleticism. 

Alas, even with the added height you can barely reach the top, fingers brushing over the hardcover. You’re starting to sweat with nerves, thankful for the whirring of the icy air conditioner. With a sigh you attempt to climb on the next highest shelf, until the familiar smell of detergent and florals invades your personal space. Even his scent is the same. 

“Y’know, there’s a help desk for a reason.” 

Your shoulders slump as Jungkook wordlessly instructs you to get down from the shelf. You feel the warmth of his palm shadow your back, not touching you but prepared to in the event you slip and fall. With a cross of your arms, you hug your books to your chest, refusing to make eye contact as he retrieves the book for you. Call it being petty, or overly defensive because of past events, but you’re not ready to talk to Jungkook right now. 

Conversely, Jungkook is piqued. He’s lived here for the past six years and it’s the first time he’s seen you in this library. Twice in the span of two weeks is definitely something worth noting, especially when his new co-worker just so happens to be friends with you. 

In fact he’s excited, curious. He just entered the library, dropping off some proofs for his graduate school’s office when he spotted you in the corner of one of the shelves, determined. Something warm and light brings a smile to his face when he sees how endearing you look trying to get that too-high book. Despite the fact that he’s still on the fence about your sanity, he wants to make sure you don’t almost-die a second time from head injury. 

“Here ya go,” He easily grabs the book and Jungkook is prepared to plop the book in your pile, but you’re hugging the others so tightly that he has to wedge it between two other ones. 

You press your lips together as Jungkook goes into your personal space, miffed that you’re being a little defensive. After all, you’re embarrassed from the last time you saw him and you’re heart is beating wildly, confused over the man in front of you. It takes a wiggle before you concede, letting him tuck the red novel between two other larger books. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, nodding at him once before swiftly turning the corner, skirt swishing. 

The smile on his face is wiped clean when you don’t even bother to spare him a little eye contact. 

“Hey, wait up!” he exclaims, and he’s immediately shh’ed by at least five students and an angry librarian. He deflates, giving sheepish bows as he walk-runs after you. 

He feels like the tables have turned, now he’s the one chasing after you. Should he apologize for leaving you on the sidewalk two weeks ago? Should he offer to hold your books, or drive you home? Maybe not drive you home, because he brought his bike today and he fears that you may be traumatized by the fact that you almost ate pavement under his wheels. If he has to ease into it, maybe he could offer his phone number up as compensation for accidentally almost-killing you? Suggest that his number is for you to contact him as an IOU. Smooth. 

You look over your shoulder briefly, suppressing a groan as Jungkook makes it painfully obvious that this is not the end of your interaction. He’s boring into you, looking past you and his eyes are dark with information. As much as you want to know what’s going on in his mind, seeing Hoseok and Jungkook within the same hour is wholly overwhelming, especially when you just laid your whole life story out to Hoseok in a daycare. 

He’s now staring holes in your back as you hand over your books and work identification to the unsuspecting librarian, who chalks up your awkwardness between two friends toeing around a relationship. To the unsuspecting eye, it’s not out of the ordinary. You can’t just tell Jungkook to “kindly fuck off because I’m still processing your existence” because he’s really done nothing wrong. Inevitable, you let him heat your skin with his imploring eyes until he starts to squirm like a garden snake. He’s waiting for you, silently begging you to turn your head and acknowledge how hard his brain is working right now. This boy is always after attention. 

Finally, you spare him. “Yes?” you say softly, keeping your focus on the bookkeeper checking you out as Jungkook hovers over your form. 

“Uh,” he scratches his head, searching for words, “are you hurt? Y’know, from the other day?” 

“Judging from the way I was prepared to climb the shelves, no,” you stuff the books in your tote bag, “are you hurt?” 

“Uh, no.” 

“Okay. That’s good.” You brush past him, making it a blatant point to stride out the first door you see. 

Even with all the telltale signs, Jungkook continues to feel something. An urge, a bell, something. He doesn’t know what, but he’s compelled to follow you. For a small thing you sure know how to walk, and he has to pump his legs a little to catch up with your speedy form. 

He follows you to the middle of the campus courtyard, where students are lounging about and studying or playing football. It’s already starting to turn dark, and the orange sky sits impatiently on your bodies as you try to walk as fast as possible to your apartment. 

“Hey—hey, c’mon!” his long legs manage to get close enough to you, but he has to halt as soon as you stop, whipping around to glare at him. 

Jungkook stumbles as you’re centimeters away from him, visibly annoyed. You’re super close, impossibly close to him. He holds his breath, fearing he’d fan your face and you wouldn’t appreciate his chicken-salad breath. He doesn’t understand why you’re upset, but he wants to jab a thumb between your brows and even out the adorable expression that pinches your visage. 

“What, do you need something from a stranger?” you bite icily, and he doesn’t understand the pang in his chest when you refer to each other as strangers. It’s true, you are, but you don’t have to be so harsh about it. 

“I, I just want to know why you knew my name,” he replies weakly, hands going up as if he committed a crime. “Back then, I’ve been confused ever since,” it’s wholly innocent, and genuine, “I just wanted to know if you’re okay, I guess?” 

It’s then you soften, melting like the yolk in the sky. The strap of your bag digs in your palm, the leather probably indenting your skin. 

“I got really drunk last night,” you concede, and at the very least it’s the truth, “probably woke up drunk too. I stumbled outside and when I saw you, and mistook you for another Jungkook I know.” 

You’re pulling this excuse out of your ass, and you hope that someone watching you from above (or below) will give you a reprieve on this one. He seems to believe this notion, probably used to one too many drunk girls fawning over him half-sane. 

“Another Jungkook?” he balks, mouth parting like a baby kitten, “a Jungkook with the same name and face?” 

“Uh kinda, like Mario and Wario?” you say, and you know Jungkook will get the reference if he remains a video game lover, “what’s that called, doppelgangers?” 

“I’m partial to Luigi and Waluigi, but I get it.” he replies with a small smile, proud to have gotten you to open up, even a little. “That’s cool. I’m sorry for freaking out back there.” 

“Understandable,” you look at the grass crunching at your feet. You definitely understood, but it still hurt recollecting the way he pushed you off of him like a bug. “I’m sorry for mistaking you, I just kinda stumbled out of an apartment and got walking, I thought I was in a dream or something.” 

“So uh, where’s this other Jungkook?” and it’s an innocent enough question, and he’s almost boyish about it, rocking back and forth with his hands in his jeans. “I’ve always wanted to meet my own twin, I just didn’t expect them living in Korea and having the same name. That’s like a two for one deal!” 

You wince, avoiding the way Jungkook tries to bend down to match your eyes. “He’s uh, not around anymore. Completely gone,” you mutter. 

Completely gone? Did that mean the person you were worrying about on the streets, the person who you worried over so thoughtfully in place of Jungkook, is dead? 

Jungkook puffs out a breath of air, running a hand through his hair. Boy, does he feel like a piece of shit for bringing up tough memories. “I’m so sorry,” he gushes, voice cracking as he tries to get you to lift your head, “I was just being nosy, alright? The fact that you knew my name freaked me out and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And when I saw you in the library I pounced but I realize that this is such a huge mistake and—”

“Jungkook,” you hold up a hand, a twinge of a smile barely grazing your lips, “I already told you, it’s understandable you would’ve been freaked out. Don’t blame yourself,” you size him up a little, looking up and down and he automatically straightens his back. He feels his ears heat beneath his hair, “but you look like the type of guy to be too hard on himself.”

He laughs, nodding profusely, “So I’ve been told.” Feeling lighter at the assurance of your feelings, he sticks out his hand, “then can we call a truce?” 

It’s then you see it. 

“Tiger lilies,” you marvel, hands reaching out instinctively to touch the tattoo adorning his arm. It’s the same design, same position, the dark ink vibrant as ever. 

“It’s my birth flower,” he puffs out his chest a bit, feeling elated that someone appreciates the fine art he spent weeks drafting. Tattoos aren’t particularly popular in this area, so he can’t help but feel a little cheeky that someone’s attracted to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle over the black ink, the most positive emotion he’s gotten out of you since meeting. “Tiger lilies, they mean—”

“Please love me,” you finish, letting go of his arms so it drops to his side. You finally look up at him, and your eyes prick. 

He looks so much like him, it hurts. Seeing Hoseok and Namjoon also pained you considerably, but nothing compared to how much it ached to have Jungkook around, vying for your attention. How well you knew his body, and how much you wish you could hug him. Today he’s even dressed a little similarly to how you’re used to, soft and comfortable in black sweats and a Carhartt hoodie. But this Jungkook isn’t scarred by the industry, and it fills the curiosity that plagued you for days on end. Your Jungkook is always vibrant, but the one in front of you is radiant. He’s young, eager, and ready to take on the world. 

Jungkook grins, impressed by your knowledge. He wonders about your birth flower, and whether you have it tattooed somewhere on your body. “Is that your birth flower too?” he asks, debating on whether or not it’s too late to ask you out for coffee because evening is approaching. Maybe dinner was more appropriate? But it would be like a date? Maybe pizza or McDonalds to keep it casual? 

You see the gears turning in his head, and you feel like you’ve wasted too much time thinking. “Ah, no,” you flounder, rapidly shaking your head, “just some random information I’ve picked up.” 

“Are you into flower meanings?” he tilts his head. 

“Not particularly,” you say ominously, and you try not to ache when he seems disheartened at your lack of elaboration, “but I will be. I’ll see you around, Jungkook.” 

You can tell he has more to say, especially because Jungkook is one to finish what he starts. But you can’t give him that satisfaction now, not when you’re onto something. You spare him a wave over your shoulder, not wanting to see the disappointment in his face when you leave him in the dust for a second time. 

And with that unpromised promise, you go back into the direction of your apartment. You have some extensive research to do tonight. 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

Jungkook wakes up to the sun, and he bolts up in his bed. 

“Hey!” he yells to no one in particular, knowing his voice is loud enough to echo throughout the dorm. “Why did no one call me? We had practice!” 

Instead of passing out in the studio he’s wrapped up in his sheets, bundled comfortably as if he’s been in bed for hours. He’s almost disoriented, looking around the room and waiting for someone to barge in and tell him to hurry up and get somewhere. 

After working on his music, the seven of them were supposed to meet up. The plan was to take a nap from ten to eleven, and be at the studio to go over some modifications to a new setlist. However, those plans evidently did not go through, because he had a full night’s sleep for the first time in weeks and that only happens if there’s a schedule cancellation or vacation. 

He feels particularly antsy because he couldn’t work on anything last night. His mind was like tunnel vision, completely filled by visions of you and last night’s fight. It’s frustrating, especially when there’s so much he’s behind on already. 

But today’s a new day. He takes his time in his room, popping out all his joints and doing leg and arm stretches on his mattress. For once, no one’s ushering him away to do the nth task. He mindlessly scrolls his phone, taking note of the insistence for him to return to social media but pins it away for yet another promise of next time. 

Mindlessly clicking his phone button on and off, his wallpaper shows a picture of your back facing the sunset. An old, innocent picture that could be mistaken for a random shot Jungkook stole on an empty night in Dongdaemun. With a sigh he throws his phone somewhere between the sheets, rubbing his eyes. There’s nothing he can do now but move forward, and he takes that in stride. 

But when he walks out of his room, the air feels terse. It’s strange, as if he could cut through the tension in the room with a butterknife. 

He looks on in confusion to see all the other members settled in the living room, hovered over their phones. They’re all still in their clothes from last night as well, grave expressions on their faces. 

Someone’s choked sobs are echoing from a corner of the room, and Jungkook is worried when he sees Taehyung sobbing in Hoseok’s arms. 

“What happened?” he asks, brows knitting together as he walks over to Namjoon, looking over his phone. 

Namjoon immediately presses his phone to his chest, concealing whatever is on the screen. Jungkook’s heart pangs at his block, because Namjoon isn’t one to hide things.  He’s feeling cut out of a secret so deep that it must be either a secret, or something he shouldn’t see. “It’s,” he takes a deep breath, and Jungkook feels it. He feels that whatever Namjoon has to say is going to be hard. 

Seokjin speaks up for the leader, bright eyes that always spark like fireworks now dim. “We got a call from Sehlyung early this morning. Before it got light out she—she was frantic. She said Camille wasn’t answering her calls after they went drinking.” 

No. No. 

“Then BigHit got a call from the hospital. They said a truck hit the curb, knocking her clean,” it doesn’t even sound like Seokjin’s speaking, just the shell of him, regurgitating information. “She’s alive, but it’s critical, no one’s allowed to see her until she’s stable. We don’t know when,” Seokjin bites his lip, choosing his words carefully, “or if, she’ll wake up.” 

Jungkook doesn’t even register that he’s crying until Seokjin pulls him into his arms. 

[harringtonstudios]

baby oh baby. (part II)

plot: your due date arrives and things get just a little hectic. part 1!

A/N: i’ve had like the worst two days ever :/ this took me a while to write so i hope ya’ll like this hehee. requested by @kellysimagines​! gif is from casie’s actual birth that kells posted :)

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @lovemythsworld @rosegoldrichie​

send requests here! (i need inspo.)

Almost nine months into your pregnancy and you were glowing. You also looked like a blown-up beach ball, swollen in places you didn’t even know you could be. One of the best things about being so pregnant though, was the fact that you had Colson hovering over you constantly. Usually, you hated when people worried over you, but having your boyfriend try and tend to your every need was a blessing in disguise. 

You had kept up with a certain filming schedule until it had been harder for you to make appearances. After seven months, you had switched all your vlogs to more indoor ones, trying to show fun content in the Baker house. 

There had been a video where you and Casie had played around with choosing a paint color for the nursery. Another vlog, one of the fan favorites, was when the guys had all come over to set up and decorate the nursery as a surprise. You hadn’t been aware of what was happening, only that Rook had run in to grab a camera from your bedroom. Hours later, they led you into the room, a pale mint-green with a mural painting and a black chalkboard wall on one side. It had been everything you wanted, and watching the footage of them goofing around all day to make it had made the entire experience better.

You had been going to regular gyno appointments, keeping in check with your prenatal vitamins and trying to record every new milestone that happened. 

One of the first milestones was when you felt your baby kick. You had never been through pregnancy, and the feeling of something moving in around you was so foreign that you hadn’t even recognized it. Colson had been the one, hands laying on your stomach as you were editing one of your older vlogs. He had immediately frozen in his movements, looking up at you with the warmest eyes. You hadn’t paid much attention, so he got up, bringing your camera, aiming it towards you before saying, “So, here we have Y/N. And here, we have baby Baker just kicking around.” Your reaction was priceless and it was still one of the funniest things he had caught on camera. 

Another milestone had been hearing the baby’s heartbeat. You had promised Casie that she would be the first person to hear baby Baker’s heart, so you held the camera in your hands as the nurse spread cool jelly on your stomach. Within seconds, soft thuds filled up the emptiness of the room. Casie had dropped open her mouth, instinctively reaching for your hand. There had been such love filling inside of you at that moment, holding her hand and hearing the heartbeat of your new baby. Tears started falling down onto your cheeks and you wiped them away hastily, smiling at Casie’s little face as she grinned up at you.

Your favorite milestone so far though had been when Colson had caught you sitting on the kitchen floor, refrigerator open. There was a mess in front of you, different foods you’d been craving half opened. You were aiming a whip cream can straight down on your throat when he walked down the stairs. He laughed loudly, startling you, sending whip cream all over your face instead of your mouth. 

“Fuck, Colson!” you scolded him, reaching for something to wipe your face with. 

“Baby, I couldn’t help it. What are you doing, its 4am,” he rationalized, passing you paper towels. After wiping most of the whip cream off, you shrugged, motioning at all the foods surrounding you. 

“Baby Baker got hungry,” you tried and he gave you a look, before grinning. 

Picking up the half-eaten carton of cheese cubes, he murmured, “And they wanted cheddar?”

You nodded, before laughing yourself. It was kinda crazy. You had eaten so many different flavor profiles that you couldn’t actually taste anything anymore. Colson came closer, before motioning for your hand. Pulling you up, he reached over, grabbing your face. Licking up the side of your cheek, he whispered, “You got something on your face.”

You pushed him away, snickering at his words. “I wonder why,” you spoke back, tongue sticking out. Moving back into his arms, he kissed your forehead, before looking down to stare straight into your eyes. Making eye contact, he muttered, “Lemme put something else down your throat.”

Your eyes widen immediately and you let out a deep belly-laugh. He smirked and you moved out of his embrace, whacking him, “Do you see the kitchen right now?”

“We can do it right here, I promise I’ll help clean up after,” he murmured, hands back on you, trailing up and down your bare arms. It took two more seconds, and then you were kissing him before awkwardly getting on your knees, belly in the way. 

He cleaned up the entire kitchen afterwards, even using the fancy wipes you had bought to kill germs on the countertops. It was heaven, you sat on the couch, watching him move around, keeping him in check every time he missed a spot. 

-

Sooner than later, you were near the ending days of your nine months. Things had been hectic in the Baker household. With your due date upcoming, the guys had decided to start cooking for the next few days. There was half-eaten food everywhere, pans stacked up on counters, and dishes that no one had bothered to clean up. It was getting a little too crazy, with everyone celebrating the pre-arrival of the baby. You weren’t in the best shape to be cleaning up the house, especially since your doctor had asked you to move as little as possible right before the due date, but you couldn’t just sit back in this messy house. 

Slowly moving into the kitchen, you grabbed one of the plastic bags from under the sink. Sweeping through the counters, you dumped in wrappers, empty cans, and the hundreds of paper plates scattered around the surfaces. You were just reaching for the empty pizza box when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain rise up in your stomach.

Gasping, you leaned against the counter, trying to ride through the wave of pain. Spacing your feet apart, you steadied yourself, breathing slowly. Another sharp pain came through and you dropped the garbage bag, reaching for the marble top. A third pain rode in and you let out a little scream, bringing your head against the surface, trying to breathe through the pain. 

A few seconds later, you felt something wet gush down your legs, and you silently cursed all the heavens to come. Your water had broken. You could hear the commotion going on in the game room and you hesitated before yelling, “SOMEONE DRIVE ME TO THE HOSPITAL!”

For a second, there was silence and then Colson started screaming at the guys. Slim ran past you, going upstairs to get your delivery bag that your best friend had packed for you. Rook was on the phone and as he came to stand near you, you could hear Casie on the other end, mumbling through her sleep. You let out another scream, the pain unbearable. Just as you were about to fall, Colson came up right behind you. He put his arms around you, pushing you to stand back up. 

“Let’s go baby, let’s get in the car,” he murmured and you tuned everyone else out, focusing on your boyfriend’s reassuring voice. As you waddled towards the door, Slim came back, carrying the red leather bag with all your essentials in it. There was a camera you had tossed in there, back when you were still debating filming the birth. Colson had sat down with you one night, and you both had discussed what would be the best option. Finally, you had decided on not exactly filming the birth, but having Colson have the camera before and after, so that he could capture as many moments as possible. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, you pushed it back, almost lying down as Colson started the car. You picked up your phone, facetiming your best friend to get her ass to the hospital just as a sharp turn came up on the road. 

“Colson! What the fuck,” you shouted.

“Shit, I’m sorry, oh fuck, I’m nervous,” he yelled back, running a hand through his hair and you grimaced as you felt a tinge of pain.

 Hanging up the facetime, you murmured out, “We’re fine. Listen, it’s ok. Let’s just get to the hospital yeah?” You saw him nod out of your peripheral, and you reached for his hand, squeezing it just a little as the emergency room came into sight. 

-

An hour later, Colson was sitting next to your hospital bed in the blue scrubs they made him put on. He was talking into the camera, occasionally panning over to you. You were in pain, but the doctors had decided you weren’t dilated enough yet. They wanted to wait longer, just so that the birth could be natural and easier for both parties. They had given you an epidural shot, which had hurt like all fucking hell, but at least you were feeling a little bit better now. Your friend had bought you fruit snacks and you popped another one into your mouth as Colson asked, “How’s mama feeling?”

“I am on many drugs right now,” you responded, waving a fruit grape gummy around in the air. He laughed before turning the camera back on himself. 

“How are you actually doing?” your friend asked, dragging a chair over to sit on the other side of the bed. 

“I just want this fucking baby out of me already. Like I love that I grew this human inside of me, but I can’t do it anymore. And why don’t guys have to deal with this? Can you imagine if this one had a baby inside of him, he’d be going berserk right now!” you ranted, pointing over to Colson as he chatted away on the vlog. 

-

Three hours later, and the nurses had informed you that you were perfectly dilated. Pushing through the slight pain, you gripped Colson’s hand as you focused. He was mumbling jokes out into the air, but at the first sounds of your screams, he quickly shut up. You were pretty sure you were breaking the bones in his hand, but he deserved it for making you go through all this pain, so you closed your eyes, letting out another scream.

“You’re doing good Y/N. Keep pushing,” the doctor stated and you let the tears fall as you put in all the strength you had left. 

“Come on sweetie, one more push,” the nurse next to you mumbled, wiping your forehead. You grunted and then your body instantly relaxed. The sounds of a cry filled the room and you collapsed backwards, crying silently. You felt Colson kiss your forehead before he dropped your hand, moving over to see your baby. 

“Congratulations guys, it’s a boy,” the doctor exclaimed and you let out a soft laugh. Colson had wanted a baby boy, you both had chosen not to know the gender and you looked over to see the excitement on his face. 

“Here mom, why don’t you hold him,” the nurse said, gently picking up your baby from the bassinet. You reached out as she put him into your arms. He was so warm, small body, mouth twisting as he let out another cry. His eyes were a murky blue and you looked up at the love of your life, staring at you both from across the bed with his own blue eyes. There were tears gathering and he reached up to wipe his own away before you murmured, “Come here.”

“Fuck, I’m so happy right now. I love you Y/N. I love you so much,” he whispered as he stood closer next to you, reaching out a hand to put on your baby boy. 

“I love you,” you mumbled back and you turned your head up just a little to give him a kiss. Your baby let out another cry and you sighed, resting your forehead on Colson’s shoulder. 

“I guess he doesn’t like that too much,” you joked and you felt Colson shake with laughter. Your little family had just grown by one, and nothing could have felt better than holding your baby boy in your arms with your boyfriend right by your side.

[vegetalass]

RDR2 Boys Cooking + Eating Habits

Arthur 

Somebody else on here wrote some headcanons about Arthur not being able to cook and just eating microwave food all the time and I just have to say…. That’s canon 

Lowkey though he’s trying his best to get better at cooking

Probably the only thing he knows how to make is pasta 

He adds a bunch of random frozen veggies to water as the noodles are cooking 

And then smothers the whole thing in butter and calls it a meal

Or he puts marinara sauce on it straight from the jar 

And yes, that means it’s cold

He’s also getting better at friend rice, too

But he’s really bad at actually making rice 

If he doesn’t add too much water… He burns the bottom 

Charles makes a mental note to buy him a rice cooker for his birthday 

Makes his own popsicles out of random fruit juices and eats them 24/7 

Thinks this qualifies him as a chef

Eats pickles and olives straight out of the jar with a fork 

And sauerkraut too probably 

Just goes over to john’s house on his pizza nights 

Puts ketchup on eggs

John 

Pizza dad 

Probably orders pizza, salad, and a 64oz soda twice a week 

Everything else is just Dino chicken nuggets, Eggos, hot dogs, quesadillas, and frozen peas and corn 

Food you feed to little kids, basically 

Mostly because he does have a little kid 

But also because it’s easy and takes minimal effort and he doesn’t mind eating it, too

Abigail would be mad but she has no room to talk

The most you’ll see him actually make is buttered pasta (like Arthur) or sometimes beans and rice 

Abigail bought them a rice cooker a while ago so that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about 

Probably always has some type of dessert laying around 

Doesn’t mean it’s good, but it’s there 

Abigail buys a bunch of those gross, low calorie ice creams and John ends up having to finishing them 

Family lunches consist of a bologna sandwich on wheat bread with American cheese and mayo, a piece of fruit, a bag of chips or crackers, a go-gurt, and some gummies 

And yes he makes them for himself and Abigail too 

They’re all eating good at the Marston household 

(Not really)

Charles 

Everything he cooks are things that can’t be made in single batches 

Lots of healthy soups, chilis, stew, etc…

Most of the time, he makes too much of whatever it is so he always has leftovers 

Everyone is jealous when he brings them for lunch

Probably finds all of his recipes in the newspaper or random magazines he reads while at the grocery store checkout line

Everyone is like, “Charles… Why are you reading Women’s Fitness?” 

And he’s like, “Check out this salad recipe, though”

Puts hot sauce on everything 

Salad, macaroni and cheese, hamburgers... You name it 

And he’s the king of snacking

All of his snacks are healthy, though

Raw veggies and fruit and quinoa chips from Whole Foods or something like that

Nobody likes this

He’s one of those people who brings hard boiled eggs everywhere as a “snack,” too

And yea, he puts hot sauce on those, also 

He really likes those weird protein bars that are hard to bite into and taste like chalk 

The flavors are either normal stuff like white chocolate macadamia or Protein Power Punch with whey, chia and seaweed 

There’s no in between 

He’s also a charcuterie board legend

Hosea is jealous of this talent

Micah

Spends all his money on take out 

He’s totally one of those weird people who’s entire trash can is just filled with take out boxes and cans of coke or beer

Constantly eating fast food 

You ask him what he bought at the supermarket and he’s like “Pub mix and bud light” 

SIR 

Everything that he does manage to cook only involve one step of preparation 

Unseasoned, fried meats and boiled veggies 

Sometimes scrambled eggs and bacon

If he’s feeling fancy, he will make plain sandwiches

This is very rare, though

Can and will complain about anyone’s cooking

Even if it’s good and he he likes it

There are certain people he can’t do this to, though, or they won’t let him eat

The only person’s cooking he doesn’t complain about is Dutch’s

Constantly snacking from an entire party sized bag of chips

And yes, he eats straight out of the bag and wipes his fingers on his jeans

His oven is dirty

Hosea 

A meal for him is probably a handful of almonds and an applesauce or yogurt cup 

He is constantly making a bunch of those Tik Tok recipes where you just put a bunch of random stuff into your crock pot and add ranch seasoning and cream cheese

*insert all of those memes about mom pulling out the crock pot*

If you complain, he says “Well, you’re always welcome to cook, too”

Wears an apron when he cooks

Constantly eating plain toast with butter

And bananas 

And cheese sticks

Thinks that this makes him “healthy” 

Definitely likes to snack on those cocktail fruit cups and canned mandarin oranges

His entire freezer is just full of ice cream 

It’s all weird flavors like Cherry Garcia, chocolate banana, and pistachio though

Everyone hates him for this

Raisins are his late night treat 

Has a secret stash of candy no one can find 

That’s okay though because it’s mostly Werthers Originals

And Chiclets gum

He picks out all the orange ones, though

Dutch

Tries to re-plate takeout so he can call it his own

Everybody sees through this but they stopped commenting on it like four Thanksgivings ago 

Buys a bunch of those meals from Costco that all you need to do is heat up in the oven

He does like fast food but only from the less popular places

Carl’s Jr., Wendy’s, BK, Arby’s, etc. 

A&W, too, because he’s old and weird

He can totally cook, he just never does 

It’s just normal stuff like spaghetti and meatballs or chicken and rice, though

Tuna fish casserole

He over-seasons everything, though

Mostly because he’s trying to prove that he’s a good cook 

Eats dessert twice, every night 

Once right after dinner, and then later when he’s feeling like a treat 

Will eat in bed

Uses a little bib and tray and everything 

Likes pumpkin and sunflower seeds

Would eat hot wings with gloves on 

He’s the one who taught Arthur to put ketchup on eggs 

Kieran 

The second I realized that Kieran would probably be white trash, my life changed 

Hamburger Helper meals for LIFE

That one cheeseburger pasta? Kieran probably eats that three times a week 

He 100% makes the ketchup-butter sketti from Honey Boo Boo 

“It’s been a while since I done had roadkill in my belly”

His favorite dessert is ambrosia salad or that weird yogurt/Cool Whip covered jello that was popular in the 2000s

Probably has a TV dinner every once in a while, too

Instant mashed potatoes and minute rice type of guy 

Also gives me big microwave cheddar broccoli vibes 

I’ve said this before, but his house is probably stocked with all kinds of on-brand goodies 

Probably always has some kind of chip and cookie around 

Eats dinner in front of the TV

Dips french fries in mayonnaise

All of this said though, he isn’t a picky eater and will eat whatever is put on his plate 

That’s why he’s great to take to restaurants, because he never complains

Honestly it’s just so sweet to think of him making big crockpot meals to share with ppl even if his cooking is a lil.... strange 

Javier

Thinks that the hot dog combo from Costco is a suitable dinner 

Also gets hot food from the grocery store for dinner a lot

Literally will just heat up a can of something and eat it plain 

Beans, chili, soup… 

Doesn’t doctor it up or change it at all 

He’s happy to share but no one wants any

Chips and dip, 24/7

And it’s just Tostitos Hint of Lime chips and hummus

Probably puts hummus on everything, too 

Corn chips, tortilla chips, tortillas, vegetables, sandwiches, etc. 

Will put anything in a tortilla and call it a sandwich 

Eats leftovers cold 

The rest of the gang thinks this is a sin

Makes stir fry with whatever is laying around the house

It’s a little gross because he will try to add leftover beans

Refuses to eat fast food

The only exception he’ll make is for french fries and ice cream

Walks around and eats at the same time

Isn’t above asking the other boys to share with him 

Despite the fact that this only happens if what they’re eating is good

Which is almost never

Sean

Sean can’t cook. That’s the end of it

The most he can make is that weird microwave Mac and cheese where the pasta is boiled in the mug?? 

He never does it tho and just sticks with the normal, frozen Mac and Cheese you can microwave instead

Uses his microwaving ability to make mug cakes

And microwave scrambled eggs

Burns his popcorn every single time

He’s probably set of the smoke detector or fire alarm multiple times

He’s Irish though so of course he’s addicted to potatoes and cabbage

And since he’s from the UK, he likes stuff like beans on toast and marmite

He’s a little nasty too so catch him eating bologna sandwiches on wonder bread

Not even the Marstons are that bad

When he does get takeout, he overspends trying to use a delivery app 

He’s like, “And do I need the extra side of special sauce for $5…? Yes.” 

Cooks like this 

[plush-rabbit]

Smothering Feelings

5. - “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

40. - “Stop being a fucking dick.”

Genre: SFW

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: This boy is always so hard to write for because I can never get his personality down right. I hope you enjoy!

Life was fine. You had a decent job with good pay, had great friends and even lived with one of them. And yeah, maybe your roommate wasn’t exactly the kindest person you ever met, but he was a wonderful cook and always paid his half of the rent on time. When people would ask you what it was like living with a pro-hero, you’d smile and say it was great and when they pressed further and asked how you had even gotten a pro-hero, especially Bakugo Katsuki, as a roommate, you’d shrug and say you got lucky- which isn’t far from the truth. You had both known each other for some time and had even become good friends, and by the time your lease was up at your old apartment, he had offered to room together, as long as you paid your half and didn’t make a mess and of course you agreed, his place was much nicer than yours and while the rent might have been a little high, it was manageable. Plus, he was a great friend to be around with; he might have a bit of an anger problem but it doesn’t diminish the rest of his redeeming qualities. He’s brash, outspoken, and teases you, but he’s a good friend to you. And ever since you moved in with him, you both have gotten closer.

But you can’t forget that he’s still a pro-hero, one who puts his life on the line to help people. There’s nights when you eat dinner alone and fall asleep without a goodnight, only to wake up to loud curses where you find him in the bathroom- crouched down and rummaging through the cabinet looking for aspirin with ash on his face, a hand clutching his side where no doubt a bruise was beginning to form. Those are the nights where you stay up with him, taking his hands and telling him to go to bed and wait- that you’ll be there in a few and he’ll listen without putting up too much of a fight. At first, you’d find him a muscle shirt on, only allowing you to clean the wounds that he was allowing you to see, to press an ice pack against his skin and hand him water but as time went on, he wore less, allowing you to rub aloe vera if he got burned, rub alcohol on some of the smaller cuts that didn’t require stitches or the help of a healing quirk, only to breathe cool air on him when he hissed in pain. Things had changed slowly. You were breaking down his walls, you weren’t met with sarcastic comments, instead you were met with silence. Narrowed eyes turned into slack ones, his gaze unreadable as you cleaned his face from any grime that lingered. It’s those nights where your fingers graze against his skin, where he’s silent and when you’re done, he’ll get dressed while you watch him with worried eyes, your hands twitching at your sides when he grimaces. At some point, he started to crawl into bed and stretch his arms, his hands gesturing you to come lay down next to him. And at first, you both kept to your respective sides, knowing that he probably wanted the comfort of knowing that he was okay, that he had lived to see another day, but like everything else, it evolved into something more. You two started off holding hands, his grip soft on your hands, his fingers ghosting above yours and then on a practically rough night, where he held you so tight that you thought you’d bust, he pulled you into bed and held you, his hands tightening around your back every time you shifted, a soft and silent plea for you not to go, for you to stay the night with him, like every other night but this time closer. Following those nights, you wake up to him making breakfast. The air is different those nights, you never knew how to approach him, never knowing if he wanted to talk about it or if he would prefer that you didn’t bring it up, that you didn’t bring up his moment of weakness and selfish want. But like everything else in your friendship, things changed, you’d ask him how his bruises were feeling, if he needed aspirin or anything else, you’d touch his shoulder, turning him around to meet your eyes. He’d roll his eyes and scoff, a smirk coming to grace his lips; he’ll he say he feels fine and he’s thank you, his voice so soft that if it weren’t for the silence in the kitchen you were sure that you have missed it. And then life goes back to normal. You two will banter over a plate of breakfast, talking about how you’ll too tired to go back to work and he’ll give you a face and you’d shrug your shoulders, the tips of your ears heating up while you take another sip of coffee.

Life around him slowly got more comfortable. You two had been close before, teasing each other, but after nights would pass when you would take care of him, to remind him that he was still strong, you two feel into a rhythm. He’d make your favorite breakfast and wait for you to wake up, only to eat together while watching the morning news, he’d message you during his lunch, often with a picture attached of food that looked so good it was absolutely sinful, and whenever he wasn’t able to come home early, he’s send you a message telling you not to wait up for him followed by a goodnight message. It was nice and felt good.

You’d be lying if you said feelings didn’t start to bubble within you- seeing him smile at you, taunting you about meager things, like when you couldn’t mince properly or if your air was at a weird position when you’d wake up and how he’s run his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the random strands that were sticking up. You tried to push the feelings down. You didn’t want to have a crush on a close friend who also happened to be your roommate; you knew it would never end well. He’d either reject you or have mutual feelings and then if you two broke up, there would be so much tension in the room that you would have to move out and no doubt lose him as a friend. So you held your tongue, you pushed down any thoughts when he would buy you snacks on his way home, how he would ask you to help him in the kitchen, humming a tune under his breath, how at nights after you would bandage him up, he’d hold your hand with a soft grip, his fingers ghosting above yours. You entertained the thought that perhaps he might have seen you as something more, you reasoned to yourself that he wasn’t exactly the softest person around and the fact that he let you see him in such a vulnerable way, strengthened your case but the thought of having things become awkward and tense and then potentially losing a friend invaded and cut off all rationality. No. You were not going to risk anything.

But of course, he’s make it difficult.

“What are you watching?” He asked, entering the apartment with two bags of groceries in each hand. He shook you off when you started  to rise up from the couch.

“If you say so,” you replied, sitting down your back facing towards the television, your attention soley on him as he walked into the kitchen. “It’s this new anime. It’s about like three kids and a film studio where they want to make an anime.”

“Sounds meta.” You heard cupboards being opened, bags rustling and the cans clanking against the counter.

“Not really, but it’s super cool and the animation is super neat.” You were already starting to get giddy. You loved sharing about things and you so badly wanted to rush off about the plot and the characters, but you couldn’t rush into it, you had to wait until you had his undivided attention so you could really start to geek out about it.

“Of course you’d say that nerd.” He walked out the kitchen, a small, purple bag in his hands. He walked to the side of the couch where you changed your position, giving him your attention. He tossed the bag towards you, your hands clasping around the plastic near your chest. “I got you something.” He said, taking a seat next to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is it my birthday? You’re never this uncharacteristically nice.”

“Stop being a dumbass and take the snack,” he snapped, pressing the play button and watching the anime with mild interest.

You turned the bag over in your hand. “Ooh, fruit gummies. You know me so well Katsuki.”

He grunted in response, telling you to focus on your show before he changed the channel. He stretched his arms, letting them fall to rest on the back of the couch, and you looked at him, gripping the bag tighter in your hands.

“Fucking needy today,” he scoffed. “Get over here.”

You perked up, shuffling your way towards him and leaning against his side, popping a gummy into your mouth and reaching above to press one against his lips. You felt him tense underneath you, feeling the gummy leave your fingers and bringing them down.

“’Nother one?” You asked, already reaching above and letting it hang there, waiting for his reply.

“I bought these snacks for you.”

“I like sharing.”

“No you don’t.” He gave out a sharp snicker. “Remember when I ate you bag of chips.”

You lightly swatted him in the stomach as you popped the gummy into your mouth. “That was different. I had a rough day and I had even hidden those.” You paused for a second, shifting your weight. “I like sharing with you. When you know, I offer.”

He only gave you a hum in response, the sound of the television filling the silence that has grown between you. Once again you raised your hand, offering a snack to him and like always when you offered him something, he took it. The bag laid crumpled up in your lap, as the show continued to play.

“What do you feel like eating?” He whispered, his arm coming down to rest above yours, fingertips hovering above your arm.

“Maybe chicken?” You mused, letting yourself sink into him deeper. “What do you want to drink? We were running low on drinks, by the way.”

“I bought lemons.”

“Lemonade then.”

“We should probably get up and get started then.”

“Making lemonade doesn’t take that long to make.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry.”

“Then get off.”

You sat up straight and rolled your shoulders, stretching your arms above your head. “Okay, let’s go then Kit-Kat.” You slapped his knee and made your way to the kitchen, giggling when you heard him groan about what a stupid nickname that was.

You tied your hair back, and began to prep the materials that you would need. You scrolled through your phone, looking for the perfect playlist to listen to while he cooked and you made lemonade.

You both hummed to the music, slowly raising your voice till you were singing to the song, trying to match the tune but not hitting the notes quite right. You were bopping along to the sing, nudging him with your hip when you passed him after placing the pitcher in the fridge, grooving to the beat of the song and singing to your heart’s content.

He turned around to stare at you, his arms crossed across his chest accompanied by a soft look on his face. You opened one eye to look at him, grabbing his hands and pulling him into a dance where you brought your arms back and forth, into a seesaw motion, his feet staying firm before copying your motions, shaking his head and muttering how ridiculous the both of you looked.

You looked up at him and brought yourself close to his chest, your arms extending outwards and standing straighter to peck at his cheek, returning to the dance, his arms limp in your hands and his expression slack. You were too preoccupied singing to the song, your eyes shut and when the song ended, you stopped in you tracks, bringing both of your hands down. He looked at you, his expression unreadable and you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong and then you felt his lips on yours. His hands left yours to cup your face, pressing deeper into you. Dumbfounded, you slowly raised your hands to grab at his biceps, hand digging into the muscles. You two stayed in the position for what felt like eternity but only lasted for maybe a few seconds. You both pulled away, his eyes slightly wide and mouth opening and closing, looking for the right words. You let out an airy chuckle, and pressed a light kiss to his lips, pulling away and telling him that the chicken might overcook. He snapped out of his daze and asked you to set the table. You brought the plates next to the stove and still giddy you bounced with every step you took. He served the plates while you filled the glasses with the drink you made.

Despite the sudden kiss and lack of mention, everything went smoothly. Lunch was fine and you two still joked, often catching him looking at you before turning his head down. The atmosphere felt light, you didn’t feel pressure or tension, it just felt like every other time but now under a new light. But then you catch him squeezing the fork in his hands, the way he grips the glass a bit too tight and he won’t meet your gaze, his answers to your questions start to fade into one-worded answers and your smile falters. You want to ask what’s wrong, is he okay, does he feel nervous? Does he regret what he did? Was it just a spur of the moment? Did he get carried away? Your thoughts rush to your head and you can’t think, you can’t feel, you only feel sick and the burning sensation on the tip of your ears.

Lunch is over and you offer to clean up. He says he’s going to go get drinks at the store and that he’ll see you later. He doesn’t come home that night and he doesn’t answer your messages. You fall asleep watching the news, a part of you hoping that he’ll be in it and another part of you dreading to see him mentioned.

When you wake up the next day, you smell pancakes. You rise up from bed and go to the kitchen. He spares you a glance and apologizing that he didn’t reply to you last night, he met up with Kirishima and his phone died. You tell him it’s fine. You ask if you two will have breakfast together and he tells you that he’s already ate and that he has to go to work. He’s out the door without a goodbye. And you smother the gross feeling in your stomach with pancakes, trying to rationalize to yourself that everything is fine.

The next few days are met without him. He’s gone before you can wake up. Leaving a hand written note saying he had to go to work early and you believed him because you knew his work was important but then the notes stopped to happen and you tried to bottle up any feelings towards him. You couldn’t deal with this rejection. This silent rejection was horrible and it crawled over you like tar, heavy and sticky all over you.

When you two happen to be in the same room, he doesn’t tease anymore. He doesn’t touch you. He gives you a forced smile and sits at a respectful distance away from you. When you tried to lean on him, he stiffened under you and stood up five minutes later and retreated to his room. It all felt horrible and you wanted to cry and scream and ask him why he was being so distant but the only end result that you could see was whatever situation you were in, becoming worse and forcing you to say goodbye to a friend. So you held you tongue and gave out pleasantries when you saw him. You stayed away from him, only seeing him when you two would have the occasional meals together. But the air now hung heavy with tension, so you could never properly enjoy whatever was on your plate.

You can’t take it anymore. This silence, this distance that he wedged between you. So when he was home, you went to his room and closed the door behind you. You stood at the end of his bed and pulled out his earbuds, sitting up straight. Before he could get a word in you opened your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice broke. You were never one for confrontations, always too emotional, too passive. “Did-Did I do something? You’ve been weird ever since,” you trailed off not wanting to finish the sentence.

He was silent for a while, his jaw twitching as a reflex. He opened his mouth to answer, a hand reaching out, fingers outstretched. And then his phone rang. He looked at you one more time, and answered the call, tearing his gaze away from you.

“What is it Mina?”

“I’ll be in my room,” you whispered, your face burning with shame and embarrassment.

-

You two don’t talk for a day, he’s gone before you can wake up and you stay home, ordering in and watching any show that’s been known to make you cry, looking for an excuse to cry over anything else other than him.

You don’t let your mind linger on him for long, you don’t want to think about him. You know you should start looking for a new place to live, but you try to be optimistic and hope that he’ll talk to you and maybe you could put the kiss behind you and laugh about it the next week. You don’t want to lose him, and you’ve concealed your feelings before, you can do it again.

-

It’s late when he comes home. The television is playing some random show from the ninety’s and you’re barely paying attention, listening to the actors have a heartfelt moment only to have the audience ‘aw’ and ruin the moment. He stays at the door for a minute watching you but you ignore him. You’re curled up, your head lying against the arm rest as you try to keep your eyes open.

You feel the couch dip on the opposite side of you. There’s no greeting, there’s no joke, no plea for you to massage his back like how you’ve done before. It’s silent. And you can feel tears brim your eyes. Any sort of optimistic thought is wiped away. You already lost him as a friend, who knows how much longer it is until he suggests you should move out.

Without fearing much else to lose, you break the silence with a broken whisper. “Did I do something wrong?” A tear slips out and you want to wipe it away but you don’t want to draw attention to yourself. “Was the kiss that bad that you had to ignore me?” You try to joke about it but the laugh comes off pitiful. You grimace. You can feel his eyes on you but he still makes no motion to say anything. “Can you just say something please? We were so good before. It felt- it felt like you had even liked me. Sometimes I wonder if you even like me… it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.” You take in a breath. “Especially right now.”

“I don’t hate you,” he says.

You rise up into a sitting position, the blanket that covered you falling down to pool around your thighs. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I just,” he stops and stands. He turns on the lamp and turns off the television; you wipe away at the tear mark and watch him with heavy eyes. “I just, really liked you. And then we kissed. And I don’t know. I’m not good with feelings. I never expected to like you. And I guess, I got scared that you’d reject me.”

“Don’t lie. I kissed you back. Give me the real answer right now Katsuki.”

He groaned and rested his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. “Fine. I liked you and I kissed you, and I thought we could make this work but then I thought oh shit,” he’s raising his head and he’s getting louder, “what if this is for nothing. I’m not exactly boyfriend material and well what I do is public, and if someone hurt you because of me,” he clenches his fist and tightens his jaw. He looks at you through narrowed eyes before softening and looking away. “I thought it would be better if you hated me. But obviously that didn’t work.”

“I don’t like being ignored for a stupid, but valid reason Katsuki.”

“I know.”

“And?” You pushed.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” He leaned over to you, a calloused thumb drying the tear stain. “I didn’t take into account how you’d feel.”

“So we’re cool again?” You ask, feeling your chest tighten.

“If you’re okay with it, of course we are,” he looks at you and is already reaching out seeing your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“Can I have a hug then?” You ask. And when you feel his hands wrap around you, you break down into his shoulder, fisting his shirts in your hands and nuzzling into the crook of his neck, while he rubs your back and tells you that he’s sorry and that he won’t do this shitty thing again.

“Just,” you take in shuddering breaths, pulling away to wipe your eyes with the back of his hand. You grab his hand and pull it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “stop being a fucking dick.”

He lets out a sharp laugh. “No promises, but I’ll do my best.”

You nod into his hand let him hug you again, feeling him place a chaste kiss to your shoulder.

[turtletotem]

Morph

For the “transformation” prompt, an Animorphs AU! I gave up on getting it all finished today, so part two will follow soon.

Charles and his friends had been through a lot of awful stuff, since the night they found a crashed spaceship and a dying alien. The night they learned their world was under attack, and received from the dying alien's hands their only weapon against the invaders—the power to morph. Morphing gave them the ability to take animal forms that were a thousand times more dangerous than their fragile human bodies, forms that hid their true identities from the Yeerks and let them absorb unbearable damage that would simply vanish when they de-morphed. Since that night, they had all endured amounts of pain, terror, guilt, and strain that probably should have killed them.

It hadn't killed them yet, but it had warped all of them—sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Charles's sister Raven had once cared too much about having the best hair and the most fashionable clothes, about being pretty and popular; now she was a fierce, unstoppable fighter whose bloodthirst scared them all, even if they wouldn't say it. Erik, who had always been sharp and steely, was ruthless and pragmatic to a fault, now—except how could it be a fault if it kept them alive, kept the human race alive and free?

And Hank… poor Hank suffered more than any of them, trapped in morph as a gorilla. Barring a miracle, he would never be human again. If only he'd been in a smaller, less exotic morph, the day that he couldn't get to safety until long after the two-hour deadline, perhaps he could have still been among people in some way—someone's dog, a wild bird, something. Instead he had to remain entirely hidden, entirely dependent on the rest of them for everything. And any wounds he sustained in battle had to heal the hard way.

As for Charles himself, he had nightmares all the time now, flashbacks—not so much to the terrible things they'd endured, but the terrible things they'd done. All the bloodshed and suffering, the lies and secrets. Was it worth it, if they succeeded? What about if they failed?

All of which made it very easy to forget that morphing could also be fun.

Charles's claws clicked over the floor of the candy shop, a tiny noise to go with his tiny mouse body. Mice were nervous, hypervigilant little creatures, but Charles was an old hand at controlling the little rodent's instincts. Mouse morph had turned out to be almost as useful as his tiger battle-morph, if for very different situations.

It was also sort of neat. Charles couldn't say exactly why he enjoyed being so small, making his way through a world grown suddenly massive around him. Chairlegs like redwood trees, jellybean containers like granaries, expanses of black-and-white tile like the surface of an alien world. It made him think of a dollhouse, except that was exactly backwards. It was as if he was the doll.

Outside the shop, he knew Erik would be getting impatient. More accurately, he would be getting worried, and masking it with impatience. It had taken Charles longer than he expected to get into the building; he supposed he should have expected that a candy store would be fortified against mice. Mice with human intelligence, however, were not so easily stopped, and Charles had finally made it inside, tick-tick-ticking across the whimsical tiles toward the security system keypad on the wall.

Up, up the enormous furniture, claws scrabbling and nose twitching at the tantalizing scents of candied fruit, peanut butter and sugar, sugar, sugar—No, no time for a snack. Charles pulled his attention back to the keypad, which he could just barely reach by climbing the display of licorice behind the cash register. It had taken three weeks of surveillance to get the code, and Charles had repeated the numbers until he heard them in his dreams. Now he typed them in, throwing the weight of his entire body against the buttons.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. And—boop, the security system disengaged.

<You're clear,> he called to Erik.

Within a minute, the lock on the front door turned and the door opened. Erik was terrific at anything machinery-related, including lockpicking, and that had come in handy just as often as mouse morph.

"Took you long enough," Erik muttered as he crossed the shop. "Are you all right?"

<Of course I am.> Charles crawled into Erik's extended hand, snuffling instinctively at his fingers, which smelled like Cheet-os.

"Of course you are." Erik rolled his eyes. "Are you going to demorph?"

<No. I've still got an hour and a half, and I'll have to reset the alarm when we're done, and go out the same way I got in.>

Erik grunted and slipped Charles into the front pocket of his jacket, over his heart. Charles could feel it thudding gently behind him. It was silly for him to enjoy that so much, but he did.

They slipped into the shop's back office. Charles had wondered if they would need to look for false drawer-bottoms, hidden safes—but no, the candy shop owner kept the paperwork for his activities with The Sharing right in his normal file cabinet, in a folder marked The Sharing.

"My mother's gonna kill this guy if she ever realizes how careless he is," Erik said lightly, pulling out the folder and turning on the nearby lamp so they could see what it contained.

<Not your mother,> Charles corrected.

Erik didn't reply, and Charles didn't push it. The woman everyone thought of as Edie Lehnsherr was a high-ranking member of The Sharing, the "community engagement" organization the Yeerks used as a front to gather hosts. Erik's mother was a Controller, a prisoner somewhere inside her own brain while a Yeerk lived her life. Cooked in her kitchen. Volunteered at her synogogue. Kissed her son on the forehead. If joking about "Edie's" ruthlessness against her subordinates kept Erik from losing his mind, Charles wasn't going to stop him.

"Here," Erik said after a minute. "That's what we need, right there." He took out his phone and took pictures of the pages. The pictures would be deleted later, once the information on them was memorized; they'd all adjusted their phone settings to prevent anything entering 'the cloud.' They couldn't be too careful.

<Anything else interesting?>

Erik flipped through the rest of the folder, taking one or two more pictures, but there really wasn't much they didn't already know. The candy shop owner was pretty new to The Sharing, and his Yeerk wasn't especially high-ranking.

<He might have more later,> Charles said.

"I was just thinking that," Erik said, a hint of excitement in his voice. "The guy shouldn't be able to tell we were ever here. As long as he doesn't change the alarm code, we can come back…"

But on their way out of the office, that all went wrong. In the dark shop, glancing over his shoulder, Erik ran right into a display.

A dozen different kinds of candy cascaded to the floor with a sound like an avalanche. Jars shattered, shelves flipped, boxes tumbled, and Erik's foot slipped on a bag of gummy bears. He fell hard, managing to turn so as not to crush Charles in his pocket.

<Are you all right?>

"Are you all right?" Erik asked at the same time. He sat up, surveyed the damage, and started swearing. "Do you remember what all this looked like? Can we put it back together?"

Charles crawled from Erik's pocket onto his shoulder, and surveyed the damage with a mouse's superior night vision. <Too many things are broken. We could work all night and he'd still know someone was here.>

More swearing. "Fine. Fine. Okay, then. This is what we're doing."

Erik crouched down and began scooping candy into his jacket.

<Erik… are you stealing candy?>

"Yep. Gosh, this poor guy. Some idiot kids broke in and robbed his candy store. Stuff like that happens. No reason to think they went anywhere near his file cabinet, though, right? Idiot kids stealing candy don't care about The Sharing's secrets."

Charles couldn't help laughing. <I'll help. You need to take enough of a haul that no one will question the story.>

He hopped off Erik's shoulder onto the floor and demorphed. Only when he was standing barefoot on black-and-white tile did he remember that neither of them had brought any clothes for him. He had planned to stay a mouse.

"Well, you're not gonna be able to carry much," Erik said dryly, looking him up and down.

Charles knew he had to be blushing. This wasn't exactly the circumstances under which he'd imagined Erik would first see him naked. Not that it was appropriate to think about that anyway. Erik could never feel that way toward him.

"Chilly in here, isn't it," Erik said with a smirk, and Charles gasped in outrage and turned away, covering his chest.

Erik snickered, and returned to filling his pockets with taffy and gumballs. "Get that bucket over there, start filling it up."

Charles dashed over to the bucket of lollipops, pulled out the styrofoam filler that kept them upright, and started sweeping chocolates, gummies and packages of Pop Rocks into it. The display cases under the cash register were full of chocolate truffles—was it locked?

Another horrible avalanche crash, and Charles jumped out of his skin, whirling around.

Erik grinned at him from the wreckage of a second display. "Verisimilitude."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Come help me get the truffle case open. They're my favorite; if we're going to steal candy I want truffles."

Erik, cramming packs of jellybeans from the second display down his shirt, joined him at the truffle case. He poked thoughtfully at the lock, then reached for a huge novelty lollipop. "Stand back—"

"Don't you dare!" Charles swatted the lollipop out of his hand. "You'll get glass in the truffles!"

"Oh my gosh, say that again. Come on, say it again, you sound so adorable when you say 'truffles' with that accent—"

"Shut up! Just open the lock!"

Erik squeezed past him to the cash register and pulled a key off a nail. "There. All the truffles your heart could desire."

Charles opened the case, grabbed one of the cardboard boxes used by the cashiers, and filled it to the brim with every flavor of truffle, stopping to sample his favorites. "Mmm!"

"Hedonist. You have chocolate on your nose," Erik said, grinning, and stepped forward to wipe it with his thumb.

For a silent, inexplicable moment, they stood there together, Charles's pulse pounding and his mouth full of chocolate, Erik's sleeve brushing his bare shoulder.

"We should go," Erik said, turning away abruptly. "We'll have to set off the alarm, for ver—versim—what I said before. Idiot kids would only have time to grab so much before they ran for it."

"I've got to morph again," Charles said. "Can't run out there like this."

"Back in my pocket you go, then."

They re-armed the security system, put mouse-Charles in the hood of Erik's jacket—all his pockets were full—and Erik went out the door, carrying the bucket and truffle box. The alarm went off behind them as soon as the door opened.

Mission accomplished.

[poloniumicecream]

i was tagged by @starryeyedagony​ and @hashbrownteamcobrakai​ for this absurdly long list of personal questions <3 no one could possibly need to know this much about me, but let’s go


1. what is the color of your hairbrush? i just... use my hand.... i keep my hair short, it curls and does its own thing

2. name a food you never eat: 
idk i’ll eat what’s offered to me?? i buy what’s easy?? i have no strong food opinions at the moment

3. are you typically too warm or too cold? i have this bird bone body like an ailing victorian child, anything under 70º and i’m freezing

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? was trying to be productive but instead found a good link to the blue lick horror house🙏 idk what’s so fascinating about this thing, but i can’t let it go. maybe bc i have nightmares that resemble this space?? anyway i live here now

5. what’s your favorite candy bar? reeses never lets me down

6. have you ever been to a professional sports game? 
memories blocked, sports too boring to think about

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? i regret to admit i am reading this out loud as i go

8. what is your favorite ice cream? idk but the worst i ever had was peanut butter

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? some faintly bleachy tap water, delicious

10. do you like your wallet? i use a coin purse to hold cards and cash - it's a pretty recognizable bright colored mass produced one. a while back there was a popular celebrity on the periphery of my friend group (don’t ask pls) and one time at a bar or something i had my "wallet" out and from across the room they locked eyes with me and pulled the Same One out of their pocket. pretty sure it was weed tho. but imagine carrying ur weed in a normal bill-fold wallet. that would have been funnier :/

11. what is the last thing you ate? 
lost in the turbine of my memory

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? i did not but i just got a new desk lamp, genuinely v excited for that to arrive

13. what’s the last sporting event you watched? 
i don't think this question applies to my experiences

14. what is your favorite flavor of popcorn? popcorn smells are compelling but if i eat things that stick in my teeth i'll lose my entire mind. wait this is it, the answer to number 2

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? close inner circle group chat planning our surprise private island getaway. no but we’re making (safe!) halloween plans

16. ever been camping? not as often as usual this year but yes! see above

17. do you take vitamins? 
those gummy ones like fruit snacks

18. do you regularly attend a place of worship? 
nah

19. do you have a tan? i'm ghostly

20. do you prefer Chinese or pizza? i'm pickier about pizza. u can't go wrong with chinese

21. do you drink your soda through a straw? no...?

22. what color socks do you usually wear? mostly dark but i have some fluffy pastel ones specifically bc the contrast in my laundry is funny to me

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? i'm gay i don't drive

24. what terrifies you? 
third date kind of question!

25. look to your left, what do you see? dying jade plants and beyond these, a cat's loving gaze

26. what chore do you hate most? 
vacuuming. loud

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? 
family

28. what’s your favorite soda? 
dr pepper only. i don't really drink soda tho. i was raised by the kind of parents who put fruit juice in seltzer and sold me that lie. i guess it stuck

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? there are so many food questions in this list pls

30. what’s your favorite number? 
secret information

31. who’s the last person you talked to? 
my father. probably the person i've spoken with out loud the most this year

32. favorite meat? i no longer eat meat

33. last song you listened to? it’s been a war on drugs kind of week

34. last book you read? 
i can't read

35. favorite day of the week? 
something cool about a thursday, i can't explain it

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? 
feeling very interrogated rn

37. how do you like your coffee? however it wants to be. i for real cannot supply food or beverage opinions like this on demand PLS

38. favorite pair of shoes? 
generic black leather lace up boots

39. time you normally get up? i'm drawing my shades and peering suspiciously outside through a crack rn

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? ok when ur out somewhere with no artificial light and it makes the sky more dramatic and cool, either one is good

41. how many blankets are on your bed? not enough, season transitions are rough

42. describe your kitchen plates? ... grandma is that u?

43. describe your kitchen at the moment: 
it's clean, it's fine, grandma get out of here

44. do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? 
among the friends i drink with, one is a skilled bartender and we let him surprise us with whatever obscure drink he thinks each person should have that night. i would trust him with my life. conversely i just remembered my very best friend is also a bartender but him i wouldn’t let serve me anything except straight from the bottle. hm. what i’m trying to say is, the company i keep is more important to me than what's in the glass. should i also clarify i made these friends before they pursued this work and i’m not, like, frequenting bars to harass the staff? this answer is a mess lol

45. do you play cards? 
i don’t have a great attention span for learning or enduring things like that

46. what color is your car? 
u know what's funny is how much junk mail i get with car insurance offers. i wonder what color they think the car i've never had is

47. can you change a tire? 100% no and that would not stop me trying. it won’t be my car so i have nothing to lose and all of myself (also nothing) to give

48. your favorite state or province? idk i feel like a stranger everywhere i go except nyc

49. favorite job you’ve had? ok, mr. fbi i think that's enough

😔 i have not kept track of who’s been tagged or done this already, and the links will kill my tags anyway. do u have shit u need help procrastinating on? here, try this

[jj-lives]

Sweets - bmblb valentines short.

Okay a day late for Valentines, oops.  Hope you all enjoy anyway. 

@technicallyblakebelladonna 

———

Blake was eight when she was forced away from the safety of her home and thrust into an environment altogether unknown.  Absent from her home, friends, and family everything had an unpleasant sinister feel to it.  She was the only faunus in her new school which meant she became the target of ridicule all due to her oddities she could not control.  The words, insults, and slurs she’d only a half-grasped meaning of delivered with the angry voices of her peers upset her. The physical torment was worse, however.  Words she could ignore, become numb to, but the sharp elbows, the quick feet shoved to block and trip her and rough, unmerciful hands that grabbed for her ears, just to make sure they were real, had Blake running to find a hiding spot at recess.  

There was only one spot on the playground secluded and hidden enough. Blake rushed to the ball diamond’s furthest dugout wishing only to hold her tears off long enough for her to out of sight from her tormentors.  

She hadn’t expected the spot to already be occupied, but it was too late to turn to look for another.  Her tears broke free, salted streams tickling their way down her cheeks.  The blonde girl remained, sitting in the grass cross-legged, leaning back on the metal of the dugout.  She observed her unexpected visitor silently and all Blake could do was wait for the slurs, the names, the hurtful words to fall from the other girl’s lips.  

Instead she raised her hand, reaching out to Blake.  It took her a moment to blink burning tears from her vision enough to realize the girl was holding something.  Blake tentatively took the offered gift; a fruit gummy. Blake stared at it for the longest time, expecting a trick, not believing anyone in the school could be so kind.  

The other girl held out another one, refusing to drop her hand until Blake grasped it as well.  New treasure in hand Blake gently sat beside her, taking in the girl’s blonde hair and violet eyes now that her vision was returning as her tears dried.  She smiled gently at Blake before popping a red gummy into her own mouth.

Blake took her time chewing both gifts, savouring the fruity, sweetened taste.  

When the bell rang they made their way back to the school.  Blake hung a few steps behind wondering if she should ask the girl’s name, but as they stepped through the doors she turned the wrong way, leaving Blake to make her way to class alone.

————

She doesn’t care if it’s past curfew or that she’ll more than likely be in shit later. She just can’t stay here one more second.  She rushes out the front door, slamming it hard behind her on Mary’s demanding voice calling her back.  Blake starts running, letting her legs carry her through the familiar streets. Her vision is blurred by angered tears and she blinks them away furiously.  They aren’t worth it. But the more she repeats the phrase in her head the more her eyes burn.  

When she slows she finds herself at the elementary school.  She’s not sure why she always seems to find her way here, why the tightness in her chest unravels just a little bit at the sight, why her breaths come just a little easier as she takes in the grass smell making her way across the field. She’s not sure completely sure why this place is able to unburden her a little but she’s glad her feet keep carrying her here.

Blake drops to sit on one of the vacant swings and kicks her feet out.  The world gently sways around her as she focuses on her breathing.  The wet trails on her cheeks dry and Blake shivers int he coolness of the night air.  Her eyesight clears about the same time a pair of yellow converse shoes come into view.  

She’d recognize them anywhere, but their presence confuses her.  How would Yang know where to find her. But Yang answers at her questioning gaze before Blake can voice the query.

“Your last message…” Yang takes a deep breath before calmly sitting on the swing beside her. “I had a feeling you might need to escape there for a few hours. So I thought I would see if you were here.”  Yang is silent for a few long moments before quietely broaching the subject. “How bad is it really?”

“He ruined all of them.”

“All?” Blake can hear the anger in her voice, but she’s so far past angry.

“Every last sketch. He ripped every single one.”  Her breath hitches and she takes the time to wipe his face from her mind.  “My whole portfolio is ruined.  I’ll have to start all over again.”

“That took you months, he ca-“ Yang cuts herself off and it’s so unlike her that Blake finds herself turning to her neighbour for answers.  “You’re keeping your new portfolio at my house from now on but I can’t believe Adam would do that even after what you did for him the other day?”

“I think in some twisted way he did it because of what I did for him.” Blake sighs.

“You saved him from a beating and he ruins your entire art school portfolio?”

“I made him look weak.” Blake’s jaw tightens and her teeth clench painfully together.  “He was teaching me a lesson.”

Yang’s mouth opens and closes as she sways side to side, chains of the swing rattle above her.

“Blake, I want to help.”

“You can’t!” Blake takes a deep breath knowing she’s trying. “He’ll be eighteen in a month and will no longer be a ward of the state and I’ll never have to see him again.” She kicks at a small pebble on the ground, watches as it skips thought the grass. “And in a few more months time you won’t have to worry about me anymore. I won’t be a burden to you after I graduate.”

Yang sighs.  She stands taking Blake’s hand leading her across the field.  They round a familiar corner and suddenly Blake is taken back.  It seems another lifetime, yet she remembers the exact fear she’d felt their first meeting.  The comfort and happiness every other encounter elicited in her back then; the same feelings Yang has always, and still makes her feel.

“You always let me have the red ones.” She says head shaking side to side gently.

“They were your favourite.” Blake shrugs.

“But they were yours too.” Blake hadn’t ever told her that.  It was true of course. She always had a preference for the same ones as Yang, but it never felt right to take a single one, especially when it was Yang who chose to share them with her in the first place. “I made a vow back then you know.”

“A Vow?” She asks, confused at what an eight year old could possibly know about vows.

“I had this romanticized notion that because you let me have the red gummies…” She chuckles. “That it meant you were the love of my life.” Her smile is gentle and reminiscent of those recesses spent in near silence together.  “Can you imagine?” She asks, though Blake knows she’s not expecting an answer. “Basing a feeling as strong as love on a snack.”

“That would be too easy.”

“True,” Yang looks to the spot where the ghosts of your past selves can almost still be seen sitting side by side, passing fruit snacks between tiny hands. “My vow.” Violet orbs meet yours. “Was to always be at your side.”

“Yang.” Blake’s barely able to choke out, consumed by Yang’s words.  She’d like to brush them off as a child’s fantasy but the way Yang keeps her gaze and the resolute tone to her voice tells Blake that she still means it.  Yang still believes in her eight year old self’s vow.

Before she can find an argument to bring forth Yang is pulling her back around the dugout, hand still firmly gripping her own.

“I may have first thought I’d love you there, but that’s not where I fell in love with you.”

“Yang?”

“You were gentle and caring enough to give me every one of your favourite snacks, even though - had you asked - I would have given them to you freely. But you were also strong and determined enough to walk back into that house every night, even though you knew how much pain awaited you there.”  Yang’s voice lowers and Blake has to focus to not miss a word. “And you never let that kill your gentle side.  When you stood up for him, your tormentor, where he deserved none of your protection, just because it was the right thing to do… I couldn’t not fall in love with you in that moment.” Her feet halt and Blake’s follow a split second later.  “Right here.” She turns to smile brightly at you. “This is where you stood, berating and chasing off those stupid boys. This is where I fell in love with you… or where I finally realized that I had fallen at some point.”

“Yang, I-”

“I don’t have to say it back Blake.  That’s not why I’m telling you.”  Yang runs her hand through her hair. “I just want you to know there’s someone in this world that loves you and will always be here for you.” She makes a point to meet Blakes eye before continuing. Turning to pull Blake back to the swing set they’d vacated not long before “That no matter what, no matter what demons you’re battling or pain you’re in, I’ll always do my best to keep you safe…and happy if I can.”

“You do make me happy, Yang.” Blake pours all the emotion she can into those words. She wants Yang to know how important she is to her.  But she’s never been very good at verbally expressing her emotions. “You’re about the only person on this God forsaken planet that does, or that I do feel safe with.”

It’s then, as she bends to retrieve it, that Blake notices Yang’s backpack is leaning up against the pole of the swing’s rusted metal frame.  Yang grabs for it, loosening the ties to allow her access.  

“I was going to wait the two days until Valentine's Day but this seems like as good of time as any.” Yang says as she pulls a small container out of the bag.  It has a pink bow wrapped around it.  Yang hands it to her with a smile. “Happy early Valentine’s Day, Blake.”

This is the last thing Blake expects to find when she left her foster care home.  Even if she’d been expecting Yang to show up, she never would have thought she’d bring her a present. Carefully she pulls on the ribbon and watches as the material easily fell away. Lifting the lid she couldn’t help but giggle.  Inside was filled to the brim with gummy candy, all of them red.

“I wanted to ask if you’d be mine?” The hope in her voice is palpable and Blake knows it would kill her to refuse.

“Of course, we’re always eachother’s Valentines.” Blake smiles grabbing one of the gummies bringing it to her lips.  It has been an unspoken rule as far back as Blake can remember.  No one ever seemed to catch either of Blake or Yang’s attention during the holiday.  They’d each had their fair share of offers that they’d turned down, nothing seeming more favourable than a day spent in each others company.  

“That’s good to know.” Yang ducks her head, staring at herr shoes before she gains the courage to look Blake in the eye again. “But I didn’t mean as just my Valentine this year.”

“I don’t g-“

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Yang asks hurriedly.  She scratches the back of her right wrist with her left hand, a nervous tick she’s had for as long as they’ve been friends. “It’s really okay if you’d rather not.  I understand why you wouldn’t want-“ she winces at whatever she was about to voice. “I mean if you’d rather just stay friends than I won’t have a problem keeping everything ju-“

Blake can’t take it anymore, her rambling although cute is only working Yang up into a more nervous state.  Her poor wrist was going to be sore with how she was worrying it.  Blake’s hand gently falls to still Yang’s fidgeting and not a second later her lips descend to stop the others running mouth.  The surprised sound that Yang makes the second their lips meet might just be the cutest thing Blake has ever heard.  When she pulls away Yang’s eyes are glazed and she has the most adorable grin playing on her lips.

“Does that mean-“ Blake presses her lips quickly to Yang’s once more.  She was always better with showing than telling.  When Yang just stares at her but doesn’t say anything more Blake starts to worry.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking is all.”

“About?”

“How I’m going to miss those red sweets.”

Blake rolls her eyes. “We can share them, Yang. Just because I’m your girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m going to demand all your favourite snacks.”

A tongue pokes out from Yang’s mouth and brushes slowly along her lower lip. “But they taste so much better on your lips.”

Yang’s laughter fills the night air as Blake’s face heats up.  She wants to be mad at Yang for poking fun at her but when strong arms encircle her she can feel the mirthful spasms transfer from Yang’s body to hers and it pulls a smile from Blake instead of a scowl.  

Besides how can she be mad at Yang when she was willing to give up her candy in hopes of using the excuse to kiss her more?

“Happy early Valentine’s Day, Blake.” Yang whispers into her hair.

Blake tucks her head more firmly under Yang’s chin. “Happy early Valentine’s Day, Yang.”

[paladinfeathers]

Headcanon for the Paladins (+ Matt and Allura) knowing their S/O since childhood? Like, since elementary school and earlier, maybe? Thank!

OH BOY, I'm a sucker for childhood sweethearts. Give me fluff, or give me death.

-Mod Rowan

LANCE

- It was your first day of the first grade, and you were at a brand new school. You were pretty terrified of all the new people and places around you, and it was all ten times more daunting because you were completely alone.

- That is, until tiny first-grader Lance walked up to you at recess and gave you some pieces of chalk. The two of you spent the rest of the hour drawing together on the ground, and you've been inseparable ever since.

- Being friends with Lance since childhood means you were unofficially adopted by his entire family. His parents treat you like their own child, and his cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents all see you as a relative.

- This also means you're probably able to hold a decent conversation in Spanish. Kids soak information up like sponges, so essentially growing up in a bilingual household means you learned a lot from the rest of the family.

- Hunk came into the picture a few years later, and maybe at first you were a little bit jealous of him, because for as long as you could remember it had just been you and Lance. But that jealousy faded quickly once you got to know Hunk, because he's a sweetheart. Now you have two best friends.

- It wasn't until your first year at the garrison that you realised you had feelings for Lance. Feelings that weren't quite platonic. It started when you saw him flirting with a really cute girl from one of your classes, and you were overcome by a sudden wave of nausea.

- At first you maybe thought you were coming down with a cold. But then it happened again, and again, and eventually you ended up crying against Hunk's shoulder because 'what the heck are these feelings and why do they exist?????'

- Lance would notice pretty quickly that something was bothering you. You guys have known each other for over a decade, after all. You know everything about each other, and you've shared all your secrets.

- When he confronts you about it, you just sigh and deflate, and tell him you think you're in love with him. There's no point in trying to hide anything. He's a total dork, but he's perceptive. He'd figure it out eventually.

- But OH BOY. The grin on this nerds' face.

- He's just so relieved because he loves you too??? He's loved you since you guys were ten, and now he gets to shout it to the world! If it's okay with you, of course.

-Honestly, you two have the cutest relationship, built on years of trust and friendship and honesty.

- You're his biggest supporter when you all end up in space and he becomes a paladin of Voltron.

- "Heck yeah babe, kick some alien ass!!"

HUNK

- You guys met in kindergarten, during lunch. You kept to yourself mostly, and didn't notice the new kid until a bunch of people started whispering about his lunch.- Everyone else had fruit gushers or lunchables, and Hunk had a delicious-looking homemade meal. Of course, some kids are giant assholes, so a few of them were poking fun at him for the 'weird food' he had.- Especially this one kid, who always got time outs at recess for pushing the other students and calling them names.- So you, quiet little you, marched up to this kid who was lurking over Hunk's shoulder and saying rude things, and dumped your entire thermos of soup over his head.- Of course, the kid tattled, and both you and Hunk got into some deep shit (no matter how many times you tried to explain that Hunk hadn't done anything). - But when you were both sat inside during recess for your time-out, Hunk quietly thanked you for standing up for him, and offered you a snack from his lunch bag. "Since you dumped your lunch all over that kid."- Thus begun your wonderful friendship.- His family loves you, and spoil you with food and treats and hugs. You adore them. They're your home away from home. When you're at Hunk's place, you have no worries. You can just be yourself, and be completely honest about everything, and you know you won't face any judgement.- So the afternoon that Hunk's mom sits you down in private on the couch is a bit of a shock. You're thirteen at that point, and just beginning your awkward high school journey. You don't really know what to do about this sudden confrontation.- But Momma Garrett just smiles at you knowingly. "I see the way you look at my son." You entire face gets hot, and she tries very hard to hide a laugh. "You two would be wonderful together. Ever since he met you, he's been more confident and happy."- You're SHOOK.- Because what the heck, you thought you were being inconspicuous, but here comes your Unofficial Mom, telling you that you should definitely date her son.- You need some time to think.-And by 'some time' you mean, a few years.- You don't tell Hunk about your feelings until the summer before you joined the garrison. - He hadn't thought about you in a romantic way before, and for a while you're heartbroken. Because you think he doesn't love you back. You feel embarrassed and dumb and emotional, and it kind of just sucks.- But over the next few weeks, Hunk thinks more and more about you. About what a great person you are, about how you inspire him to be the best version of himself. About how cute you are, with your corny jokes and bad puns, and your bright smile, and your warm eyes...and how you light up a room when you walk in...and how your laughter makes his heart beat a million times a minute...- OH.- He goes to your dorm immediately to tell you that he most definitely loves you too.- You two are #Couple Goals. And Lance won't stop gushing about how adorable you guys are. Even when you're in space. You're still the Couple Of The Century.

KEITH

- Oh boy.- You met this kid shortly after his mom left. - He was angry, and sad, and confused. It was all very intense, and you had a hard time understanding what he was going through.- Actually, for a while he didn't even recognize you as his friend. At recess, you'd sit near him and play, since he didn't want to join in. You'd take the seat beside him during classes, and at lunch you'd quietly slip some of your gummy candies onto his plate.- You didn't expect him to acknowledge you ever. I mean, he hadn't paid you any mind for the last few months, so why would he start?- Until one day, the class bully tripped you on the playground. You started crying because you skinned your knee and ripped your pants, and the jerk started mocking you for being a crybaby.- ENTER KEITH.- This tiny boy tackled the fuck out of that bully, fists and curses flying everywhere. You'd never heard a seven year old swear before, but then you met Keith.- "How dare you hurt my best friend!!"- The bully had a bloody nose and a sprained wrist by the time a teacher managed to pull Keith off of him. The rest of the kids on the playground were now mildly terrified of him. But you? You looked at him and saw an angel.- From then on, you were a pair. Someone saw Keith in the hallway? Y/N was nearby. Some students wanted you in their group for a project? Nope sorry, Keith has to come too.- You stayed like that all throughout your lives, never giving a damn about what other people thought of your relationship.- By the time you were both established in the garrison, everyone knew that you two were a package deal. But then the Kerberos team disappeared, and Keith got expelled, and then vanished into the desert without a word.- Anyone with eyes could see that you were going out of your mind without your best friend around, without your sole source of comfort. He hadn't contacted you, or left a note, or any way of finding him...- So no one was really surprised when a few pieces of garrison technology went missing, along with you. A few of the other students had made a betting pool to guess how long it would take you to run off to try and find Keith.-But find him, you did.- He was really surprised when he returned from the desert one afternoon, only to find you sitting on the floor of his dwelling reading over his maps, while munching on a bag of candies.- "Keith Kogane, you are such an asshole, you know that?"- He has the decency to look ashamed for leaving you behind. "I'm sorry. I just- I needed to do this. I need to find Shiro-"- You jumped on him and squished him into a hug, trying to convey without words how worried you were.- You wanted to stay with him after that, but he managed to convince you to return to the garrison. If not to help yourself, then to help him find information about what really happened during the Kerberos mission. If you were still at the garrison, you'd have access to information he didn't.- But you made sure to stay in contact.- You guys didn't start dating until after he'd become a paladin. You were worried sick when team Voltron went on their first mission together. So worried, that the moment everyone returned to the castle and Keith stepped out of the Red Lion, you ran up to him and planted one right on his mouth.- You guys are adorable.

SHIRO

- You guys met in the third grade, when your teacher paired you up for the class science fair. At first you were a little bit bummed, because you had big ideas and you really doubted that any other eight-year-olds would be able to keep up with you. But here comes Shiro, who not only liked your ideas, but was able to understand everything and even contribute to the project.- After that, you two were always together. You both loved that you had someone who shared your passions with as much fervor as the other.- You drifted apart for a little while in high school, when you got sucked into the world of peer pressure and started hanging out with the 'cool kids'. You stopped showing interest in science and mathematics, and instead followed the lead of your 'friends' by gossiping and skipping class.- Eventually, your grades started to suffer, and your parents and teachers decided to set you up in a tutoring program. And your tutor? Shiro.- You were distant at first, embarrassed by the kind of person you'd become, and anxious because 'this is the guy who you left in the dust'. And honestly Shiro's a little bit mad at you for leaving him, too. Especially because you left him for the jerky popular kids.- After a few tutoring sessions though, you finally open up to him about everything, about your insecurities and why you felt the need to give up your intelligence. He understands, of course he does. He's always had a strong sense of self, so what the other students said never really got under his skin. But you faced a lot of pressure, from family, from other people, from the world. He gets it.- By the time you finish your tutoring with him, your friendship is stronger than ever, and you're back to your old self; kind, goofy, and smart.- You end up shocking the popular kids with your newfound confidence, and by the end of high school you and Shiro are now beloved in your school. Everyone admires that you're kind to other students, and are always willing to help.- It's not a surprise when you both get accepted into the garrison, and later graduate at the top of those classes too.- But then Shiro went on the Kerberos mission. You can't stop thinking about how it should have been you, instead of him.- You'd been offered a job on the shuttle, but you had been scared. In that fear, you had respectfully declined...only for your best friend to get the offer instead.- And he died. Because you believed yourself a coward.- The 'what if' scenarios wouldn't get out of your head. What if you hadn't been afraid? You'd shouldn't have been afraid. You'd been training for this for years. You should have said yes. If you'd agreed to the mission, like you were supposed to, Shiro would be alive and safe. You can't stop beating yourself up about it.- Then it turns out that Shiro actually IS alive??? And the entire time you're with him, you're in shock. What do you say in this situation? 'Hey best bud, I'm glad you're not dead.' ?- When things settle down a bit, finally, and you're all in the castle and the lions have been retrieved, you tug Shiro aside and take him for a walk around the hallways.- You're both anxious. The tension between you two is tangible, and you can both feel it.- So you decide not to say anything. Instead, you stop in the middle of the hall, take Shiro's face between your hands, stretch up on your toes, and kiss him.- And this man is a dork, who am I kidding? He probably giggles part way through the kiss, and you hide your face in his shoulder and tell him to shut up. You love each other very much.- Space Power Couple.- Also, he likes watching you fight. Your intelligence was always an attractive quality, but watching you move around and destroy enemies? It does things to him.

PIDGE- You're maybe in the same grade as her, maybe you're one year up, and you're new to the school. At lunch, you always hear other students muttering about the nerdy girl named Katie. 'Katie always has her face in a book' or 'she's always drawing diagrams'. Things like that. You've never liked the way that kids get mean and gossipy, as if being smart is a bad thing.- You make it your personal mission to find out who this Katie person is, and befriend her. Everyone needs friends, right?- You had a plan to approach her at lunch, and offer her some cookies you'd made with your dad that had been iced so they looked like spaceships and robots. You figured that snacks would be a good way to break the ice.-But then you saw some of the fifth graders picking on her, stealing one of the books she always wrote in, tearing the pages out, and throwing the remains over a fence into someone's backyard.- She's rightfully pissed at them, but the recess bell ensures that she's not able to go retrieve what's left of her book. So, you hide in a bush while the rest of the students file into their classrooms, and then you sneak into the yard to pick up the pieces.- The next day, you approach Pidge at lunch. Cookies in one hand, mended book in the other. She's excited about the cookies, but nearly cries when you give her back her book.- The pages are crinkled, but they're taped back together in the correct order, and honestly its the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for her?? You also added a drawing in the back of the book; a picture of a robot with rocket arms and a mouth that dispenses snacks. - She won't tell anyone, but she loved that drawing so much, she still has it taped to her bedroom wall.- Fast forward a couple of years, she's still a little bit awkward around people. But you love that about her. You love how passionate she is, and even if you don't always understand what she's talking about, her energy is contagious and you can't help but get excited too.- That being said, you HAVE learned a lot from her over the years. You're not as knowledgeable as she is, but you're able to build computers and complete basic codes.- You've probably also become friends with Matt over time, too. He and his sister are really close, so the fact that you're her extra supportive best friend? You're a good bean, to him. He calls you this. Matt calls you a Good Bean. Matt is a dork.- And you never stop supporting her, especially when the Kerberos mission goes south, and she loses two people she loves. When she gets caught sneaking into the garrison, you immediately apply for a scholarship there. If Pidge needs information, you'll help her get it.- You get accepted into one of the programs there, and you decide to tell her on the day you move into your dorm. But then.- You see her in the hallway.- With short hair.- In the boy's dorms????- You kind of just stare at each other for a moment, before simultaneously yelling at each other "what the heck are you doing here???", "I go to school here!!", "What? Since when?!", "Stop saying everything I'm saying!!". Honestly you guys are two peas in a pod, you even yelled the same things at each other.- You guys settle down and find a quiet place to explain yourselves. She's touched that you would go through all of this to help her out. Of course you would go through all of that for her, you love her. "LIKE A FRIEND." you quickly correct yourself.- Pidge doesn't believe that one bit, but at the moment, she's not ready to date anyone and she doesn't want to make things tense between you two by rejecting you. So she accepts your explanation. For now...- You don't start dating until after she bonds with her lion. She's in a better place, emotionally and mentally, and she tells you this. "So...if you want to ask me out now, I wouldn't say no."- You hide your face in your hands, but ask her on a date anyways.- Spoiler, she says yes.- You guys have a picnic in Green's head while you fly around the stars.- You're the cutest, nerdiest couple.- And when Pidge gets Matt back, he loudly proclaims that he saw it coming from a mile away.

MATT

-You officially met Matt in the fifth grade. Before then, he'd just been another face in your class. But you got paired with his little sister as a reading buddy, and from her, Matt had heard all about you.- "Y/N is the best reading buddy. They like that I love science.", "Today we read a book about computer codes. Y/N even taught me some things about building computers.", "Matt, did you know that Y/N built their own laptop? They brought it to school today to show me and it's so much better than the computers in the classrooms."- Ten year old Matt is honestly a little bit jealous of this mystery person that his favourite sister keeps gushing about. But at the same time, he's really glad that someone else is encouraging Pidge in her interests, and having fun with her. But he's still a little jealous.- Until he actually sees you at school. And wow, you're really cute? His tummy does a little flip when he sees you for the first time, and it concerns him because he's never had a feeling like that before?- He walks right up to you though, and thanks you for taking such good care of his sister. And you smile, because you're really glad to know Katie, she's such a sweet kid, and she has so much potential. "It's also really nice that another kid here likes computers as much as I do."- He very awkwardly tells you that HEY, he likes computers too so maybe you guys should hang out sometime and....talk? about computers. And stuff. He fizzles out into a blushing mess by the time he's done asking you to be friends.- But you're not deterred. You like Matt. Katie talks about him a lot, and he seems like a good person. So your parents arrange a weekend for you two to get together, and it's the start of the dorkiest friendship ever.-No really, you're huge dorks. You guys have projects you work on specifically with each other, and you geek out over sci-fi and dumb memes and the latest news from his Dad's work. - "Matt, I didn't think we were allowed to know about your Dad's work?"- "We're not. Which is why I sneaked past their firewalls and...borrowed the encrypted information...."- "Matt Holt!! You stole from a government facility??!?!"- "I didn't steal it! I plan on giving it back!"- Matt, you can't give back non-tangible information. But you sigh and go along with it, because honestly you're just as curious as he is.- When you're teens, he gets accepted into the garrison a year before you do, due to his ridiculously smart brain as well as references from his Dad. - You miss him dearly for the year he's not in your classes, but he makes sure to send you secret messages from the garrison. He tells you how amazing it is, and how much he's learning, and how great everyone there is. It makes you feel a little bit lonely, because you're stuck in a plain, average world while you best friend is off having the time of his life.- But when you show up at the garrison the next year, everything is as it should be. You and Matt are back together, you're working hard, and your future is bright.- Your re-meeting was strange, though. You got along with Matt as splendidly as ever, but he was just. Gentler towards you? He stood closer to you than he used to, and often had a hand somewhere on your person - your shoulder, your wrist, the small of your back. Sometimes, from the corner of your eye, you'd see him smiling softly at you. Not that you minded any of this.- In fact, you reveled in the attention.- When Matt gave you the news that he'd be going on the Kerberos mission, you were nothing short of proud. You saw how hard he worked, and you knew how brilliant he was. This was an incredible opportunity, and he deserved it more than anyone.- On the day of his departure, you gave him a simple silver necklace, with a square locket dangling from the center. "So you don't forget about me! But you can't open it until you're in space, okay?". You made sure that he promised.- You said your farewells, your hug lingering a little longer than what could be considered platonic. For a moment, you wondered if you should just tell Matt what was in the locket. But no, that would ruin the surprise, and you didn't want to risk rejection before your best friend left for over a year.- Months later, you got the news that the entire Kerberos team had been killed, and you couldn't believe it. Shiro, and Sam, and Matt, were three of the smartest people you knew. They wouldn't have made a mistake. - So you ran to the Holt's house to try and learn the truth, but you only found Pidge and her mom, crying in each other's arms. As soon as you were pulled into the hug, you cried too. Cried for your best friend, cried for the person you loved.- For weeks, you felt empty. Nothing mattered anymore. When Matt died, it was like your happiness went with him. What was the point of having a future if he wasn't in it?- You were completely devoid of hope. Until one day, Pidge showed up at the garrison under an alias. From that moment on, you did everything in your power to help her. The evidence she had suggesting the Kerberos team was alive was astounding.- You never lost hope after that. Even through all the space battles and wounds and combat training and goo-maker malfunctions, you never stopped looking for Matt.- And one day, you wandered out of your bedroom in the castle, still in your pajamas and barely awake. All the paladins were gathered in the common room, and at the center of them was an excited Pidge...and Matt.- Matt. MATT.- You caught his gaze over Pidge's head, and it was like the world around you stopped. - The next thing you knew, you were sobbing in his arms, holding onto him for dear life while he stroked his thumb over the nape of your neck. He kept you in a hug until your breathing had slowed and your tears had dried.- Then, you noticed the silver chain that still hung around his neck, and your entire face burst into flames.- "You, um...you kept it? Even after all this time?"- "Of course I kept it. You gave it to me. It...it helped keep me going. It reminded me of what else I had to come home to."- Somehow, you manage to blush even more. "So...you read my message inside the locket, then?"- Matt nodded and -for someone who's such a goddamned goof- placed the gentlest, sweetest, softest kiss on your lips, "I love you too."- You turn into mush.- You guys are sappy as fuck, and everyone pretends you're a gross couple. But honestly you're so perfect for each other it hurts. Pidge is pretty chuffed about your relationship.

ALLURA

- So, your parents and her parents were pretty good friends. That alone meant you'd have many chances to see each other as children. You were also born within the same year, so your age was another fact you had in common.- Honestly though, you're pretty easy to get along with. You were loyal and agreeable - the calm to Allura's storm. As small children, you spent your days playing in the flower fields, or having picnics together with your families.- As you got older, and Allura's responsibilities and obligations grew, you drifted. But not for long. You refused to let your friendship slip away. Even at nine years old, you were headstrong and determined. You marched straight up to Allura's father one afternoon, completely forgetting that he was the literal king of your planet, and demanded he let you join the royal guard.- "I need to protect Allura from bad people!" you had explained, even though you knew she could take care of herself. Your parents were embarrassed by your indignancy, but King Alfor had just laughed at your angry little pout and patted your head.- You had been far too young to join the guard, but with your parents' permission, he agreed to let you begin training under some of the senior officers.- You matured a little slower than Allura, since you weren't under the same kinds of pressures she was when it came to your social status and expectations. But over time you became level-headed and well-versed in Altean politics, often sitting in on some of your best friends' classes at the request of the King. (And after your classes, you'd study together and grumble that politics were kind of boring).- You didn't know why you were getting all this special training, but if it meant you got to spend time with Allura, then you were happy.- It wasn't until you were fourteen that you learned the truth. You had sneaked out of bed to get a drink, when you heard your parents whispering in another room. So you hid just outside the door and listened.- Your mother was worried that you were going to get stressed, and your father was assuring her that you were alright. Your lessons were doing a good job of preparing you for your future, without putting too much weight on your shoulders. Your mother had argued that being the future Left-Hand to the Princess of Altea was a lot of stress for a fourteen year-old child.- You didn't hear the rest of the conversation after that, because you'd slipped away back up to your room.- You sat down on your bed, and immediately called Allura on a visual-audio device she'd gifted you.- The two of you had sat up for hours afterwards, talking about what you'd heard your parents saying, and what that meant for your friendship.- "Y/N, it means we'll get to be friends forever! I couldn't imagine my life without you in it, and now you'll be here with me." - You were grateful that she had so much faith in you, and in return you worked your hardest so you could support her as a Left-Hand should.- Fast forward ten thousand years, when you, Allura, and Coran are awoken from the pods.- You had vague memories of Alfor telling you that you needed to fulfill your duties to Altea, and go with Allura into the pods. "When she awakes, however far in the future it may be, she will need as much love and support as she can get."- Everything that had happened only ended up pushing you and Allura closer together. With your people and planet gone, she and Coran were the only family you had left.- So you stand proudly by Allura's side, assisting her with anything and everything, and helping her remain strong. You laugh with her, and share her sorrows. You protect her when she needs it, and help her carry the weight of her hatred and anger. You do what you can to make sure she never feels alone.- You don't start seeing each other exclusively until a few weeks after the new paladins were chosen.- The two of you were milling around the control deck, trying to get the castleship back in order. Out of nowhere, Allura pulled you into a hug and thanked you. "You've been by my side for my entire life, and never once have I expressed my gratitude for it."- You assured her that she didn't need to thank you for your loyalty and kindness. She was your best friend, and you loved her dearly. She had always been the one person you could turn to in troublng times, and you trusted her with your life.- For a few seconds, you just sort of stared into each other's eyes. Then you both moved in, sharing a soft, sweet kiss.- And Coran is just kind of on the other side of the room, smiling about how wonderful it is that even after so much destruction and death, there is still happiness and love to be found.- You and Allura are the physical manifestation of 'hold my flower', 'kick his ass baby, I got your flower'. No seriously. She's a paladin, and you've been training most of your life to protect your Princess. You guys kick ass.

[ibangtanthings]

For You, A House of Cards

It was 5:30 AM. A loud crack of thunder had woken you up.

You didn’t jump awake but a tiny nervousness began to build inside your stomach. It had been meaning to rain for a few days now. The thunder rolled for hours each day but eventually it calmed and now, during your sleep, it decided to come back roaring.

Within seconds lighting flashed across the sky and the rain began to pour. You watched through the blinds for a moment and then rolled around in bed wondering how it was possible for him to stay asleep.

He wasn’t.

Yoongi wasn’t even in bed. You yawned and got up, then turned on the flashlight from your phone to walk through the dark house in search of him.

Now you were really scared because if the thunder were to crack suddenly and loudly again, it would most likely take you by surprise.

As you walked down the stairs, the lightning provided some creepy visibility to the house. You just hoped that the thunder would remain quiet for just a moment. Until you could find him.

He was in the kitchen, hovering over the counter and making coffee. He saw you come in and your eyes met.

“I was making tea so in case you woke up. It should calm down your nerves.” He took a sip from his mug. It probably cost ten dollars more than you would have paid for.

“I’m not scared, the storm just woke me up. I never heard thunder so loud before.”

Suddenly the thunder and lighting roared through the sky again simultaneously, making you take quick steps towards him but you didn’t touch him as you looked towards the windows much too large for your liking.

You didn’t want to be too clingy and lose your dignity. 

Instead, he pulled you towards him as he turned his attention back towards the brewing tea but he lazily wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m not scared.” You repeated, hugging him from behind.

“The entire day you were nervous about the thunder. Now it really hits and you don’t want to admit that you’re scared? I kind of wanted to hold you until you weren’t scared anymore.” He surprisingly admitted.

“I’m scared Yoongi.” You said quietly.

He took your hand and pulled you back upstairs towards the bedroom.

You tucked yourself into him and he kissed your forehead, letting his arm serve as your pillow.

“Go to sleep. This is just one of many storms we’ll have to go through.” He said, taking a deep breath.

You held onto his hand and closed your eyes. It felt so good being in his arms.

 There was something crazy about feeling this happy. Especially since this wasn’t your house, your room, your bed...or his.

“I love you Yoongi.” You smiled for the first time since arriving yesterday. You stifled a laugh as he smothered you with kisses anywhere he could.

Sleep came naturally and quickly. He said you always pouted in your sleep and that it was funny, but it was one of the things he loved about you. He didn’t know that he did the same.

Sometimes you wondered how you could sleep so peacefully in someone else’s home.

Maybe because he always did…….but it didn’t last long, it never did.

“They’re back, we have to go.” He half yelled, shaking you awake.

You jumped up and got dressed quickly, looking for his shoes before you even thought about putting yours on.

“Grab anything.” He said stuffing his bag with jewelry, shoes a different size but worth a pretty penny, cash from underneath the mattress. You grabbed necessities like medicine, shampoo, toothpaste but you didn't forget the heels with the red bottoms.

“Let’s go.” He ordered, and you both ran down the stairs as quickly as possible. The front door opening but the back door closing as you both slipped away and ran towards the car two blocks away.

Breathless and with a massive headache, you started to feel carsick as he sped down the highway swerving through cars left and right.

After a few minutes he slowed down and the nausea began to fade quickly.

As you recalled the last few hours in that beautiful house, you smiled and wondered when you had gotten so soft. When did he get so soft? Living like this, always on the road, you weren’t meant to be soft.

It was tough but at the same time exhilarating. It had been months since you two ran away together. Things had been going fairly well considering you only had a pair of shoes, some clothes and a few hundred dollars every so often for food, gas and liquor stores along the freeway.

Anything else you needed you stole. He was good at it and you were just as good. It was a pleasant surprise how easy it was to find vacant houses, ridiculously cheap motels, quiet neighborhoods with open garage doors, and most of all, easy victims to steal from.

Since you guys weren’t staying in one area, no one would ever catch you. You guys were lovers on the run, taking care of each other and somehow making this life work. It was fun.

“Look what I found.” He said pulling out a handgun from his pocket.

“Shit Yoongi. We don’t need a gun. What if it’s registered?”

“It’s fine. It’s just a precaution.” He handed it over and you placed it inside the glove compartment.

There was a comfortable silence in the car as the traffic began to build and the sun began to rise.

The temperature began to rise as well and suddenly you were sweating.

“Can we get cold water? I’m hot. I don’t want to drink the stupid warm water we have in the back.”

“I’ll pull over at the next place I see. Are you feeling sick?” He asked worriedly.

You opened the window. “I don’t know. I just feel really hot.” You wiped the sweat off your forehead.

He pulled over at a dollar store and usually you were overjoyed knowing that you could buy anything, but right now you needed food and ice cold water.

When you stepped into the store he looked at you with a confused expression on his face.

“Y/N, your cheeks are red hot.” He said taking hold of your hand before walking over to the mirrors in the beauty isle.

Your cheeks looked so red, as if it was winter and the temperature outside had been below freezing.

You touched them and the skin burned underneath your fingertips. “That’s weird. Maybe I am getting sick.”

“Let’s see what kind of medicine they have here. The other night it was cold and you didn’t put on socks like I told you.”

He scanned the labels carefully, all his focus on the words and it bored you just standing there. It didn’t seem necessary to get any medication, much less from a dollar store. From what you saw, there were only painkillers and they probably didn’t even work.

“Let’s just get these, cold and flu aid.” He picked out a small packet of pills.

“Some band-aids might be useful.” You fiddled with the boxes of band-aids that had characters printed on them.

“Yeah. You never know when you’ll get a paper cut.” He teased.

“Haha. So funny Yoongi. Your use of sarcasm is amazing.”

He threw the pills at you and they bounced off your head. You both laughed and he pushed you away when you got closer for payback.

“Go look around. I’ll see what food they have.”

You shook your head and decided to be stubborn. “Not until you kiss me first.”

He turned his attention back to the medications. “You’re sick. I’m not getting sick too.”

“Put a condom in your mouth, you won’t get infected.” You retorted, pretending to be mad but he knew you so well.

He just gave you a gummy smile and threw his arm around you and kissed your cheek. He understood why you didn't want to leave his side. It just felt wrong being apart.

“Put this on.” You took a black snapback off the hook and placed it on his head.

It matched the black of his hoodie and he check himself out in the mirror before turning it around so that it was backwards now.

“You look good.” You smiled, loving the way he looked in all black.

Dressed up or dressed down, if he was in all black you felt your heart flutter for him as if you had just met.

“I think I should buy socks not a snapback.”

“We just stole a bunch of jewelry and stuff. A dollar won’t kill us. Plus you look hot.”

“I’m more than just your eye candy.” He scoffed but he put the hat into the shopping cart anyways.

“Yeah I know, you have feelings apparently.”

Within a few minutes you were walking through the snack isles and he stopped in front of the ‘healthy’ options. You found it cute how he worried about your health to this extent. Surely he would make you eat something as soon as you returned to the car.

“Want to try these dried fruits?” He inspected the ingredients.

“Sugar? Yes please.” You grabbed the bag out of his hands and dunked it into the cart. “Oh and I’m kinda craving some cheese puffs.”

“Cheese puffs? You don’t like cheese flavored chips.”

“I don’t know I just have the appetite for them today. Must be nearing my period.”

He sighed and grabbed a bag of cheese puffs. After looking around some more, you found yourself with a cart full of items that just made you feel normal again.

But he sighed again, taking out the cake mix, the picture frame and the candle you wanted.

“What did we talk about? Don’t get things like this when you know you don’t have a house to place them in. Where exactly are you going to bake a cake?”

“It can wait until we find another place. It’s holiday season after all. Everyone’s on vacation and there’s hundreds of houses just waiting for me to bake a cake in them.” You clutched the box in your hands.

“No. I’ll just buy you a slice of cake okay babe? Come on let’s hurry up. Get some orange juice with pulp, you’ll need some vitamin C if your feeling sick.”

Honestly you didn’t care much for the cake mix or the candle, it was the picture frame that you wanted to keep but you let it go. He was right, you didn’t have a home, not even a camera to take photos with.

When you walked out the doors you felt the cold breeze immediately and it was strange how you didn’t feel it before. Now you really took his suspicions seriously. The reason he was so worried was because your flu and colds lasted four weeks minimum.

When you were in pain he felt just as miserable being unable to help, but a part of you wouldn’t mind getting sick because that’s when he baby’s you the most.

Before, you guys never really showed much affection. You didn’t need to. After going on the road, things changed. The fear of having him taken away from you made you want to be close to him all the time. 

He reached for your hand more often.

Like now. You were just looking out the window enjoying your orange juice when you felt his fingers find yours.

You looked over at him but his eyes never met yours. He just continued driving with one hand and playing with your fingers in the other.

The day went by quickly. The pawn shop that accepted the jewelry gave you guys five hundred dollars which is less than it was worth but you guys were in no position to haggle.

Thankfully it didn’t seem like you were going to get sick. That was until next week, when things started to seem strange.

You called it a new skill, being sensitive to smell. Yoongi thought you caught a bug and you did too. 

It was embarrassing having to vomit almost everyday.

Every time you barfed, it sucked the energy out of you and it made you weak.

Instead of whining about it, you always made sure to walk out of the bathroom as normal as possible so that he wouldn’t worry or notice.

But that was harder to do each time. Today in particular you threw up a second time and as you hung over the toilet seat, tears streamed down your cheeks as you had no more energy left. Your entire body wanted to shut down, to pass out right there on the floor.

After a few ragged breaths you took the toothbrush and toothpaste out from your back pocket, and somehow got up to brush your teeth.

As you turned the faucet off, you leaned against the sink and cried silently. The last thing you wanted to do was cry because you felt bad for yourself. 

You kept telling yourself to stop being such a baby and to hurry it up because Yoongi was waiting.

But then you told yourself he was waiting for nothing in particular. You guys had no place to be.

“Y/N. Are you taking a dump?” He knocked on the door.

You were taking too long and he was nervous about the cameras. Plus this was Walmart, and you were in the family bathroom alone. Some lady could come sooner or later with three kids in tow.

With tired steps to the door, you unlocked it and you couldn’t open the heavy door. He pushed it open you slumped against the wall. He caught you before you could slump down.

“Tell me. Are you hurt?” He touched your cheeks and then your neck to look for your pulse.

“No. I’m exhausted. I just threw up again.” You whimpered.

“Stand up. Come on. I’ll carry you.” He said helping you up.

You latched on him as he carried you away like a child. He didn’t give a damn that everyone was staring. You just closed your eyes and buried your face into his neck.

Laying down in the back seat, you gave him the okay to drive with a small nod. He was going a little past the speed limit from what you could tell but the exhaustion quickly took over. Within a couple of minutes you were dreaming of Neverland.

“How much?”……..“I’ll give you five hundred.”

You opened your eyes to a small room. A motel with a small TV across from you. It was turned on but muted, and the only thing illuminating the room right now. You rolled around to see him on the phone, watching you with concern.

“I’ll give you the address tomorrow.” He said hanging up. “How do you feel?”

“Better.” You stretched and he placed his hand on your forehead, checking for a fever.

“You should eat. Get your strength back.”

“Who was it on the phone?” You looked at the landline and felt an urge to call someone but who? All you had was Yoongi and he was right here.

“A doctor.”

You sat up and looked at him wearily. “Five hundred for a doctor to keep silent? I’m fine.”

“He could give us medication we can’t buy. It will be good to have some in stock in case of an emergency, and you’re not fine. Something’s wrong.”

“If I have the stomach flu then it’s just a matter of time before it goes away. Go heat up the food, I’ll take a quick shower.”

“You want me to leave you, in your condition? What if you faint and die?” He said annoyed.

“Then there’s something less for you to worry about.” You smiled, pinching his cheek but he wasn’t amused.

He grabbed wrist and glared. “I always worry about you. If there’s something wrong you need to tell me, don’t try to be strong for my sake.”

You held onto his hand and reassured him.

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” You asked him softly.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

“What did you think about that house Y/N?” He said brushing some hair away from your face with his fingers.

“It was nice. We should have scoped around the place a little earlier to get more stuff to sell. Maybe fuck around in the bathroom a little. Why?” You giggled.

He finally smirked. “No reason. I’ll go heat up the food, leave the bathroom door unlocked.”

“Always.” You smiled as he shook his head and walked away.

As you looked through your bag, you got your shampoo and conditioner only to do a double take when you saw your pads.

For a moment you forgot what week it was so you looked around for a calendar and found one on the nightstand.

It had been four weeks and nothing. Maybe you were just late.

There was no way that your symptoms pointed to…that….

No way.

The last time….you used protection. This wasn’t possible.

It’s 99.9% effective.

Just your luck that you would be in that tiny margin in which it failed right?

You pregnant? With his baby?

Now?

“What happened there’s no water running?” He said as he walked through the door again.

You had been sitting there the whole time and you quickly got up as your heart raced just hearing his voice.

“No, I was just looking at this calendar. I’ll be quick I promise.” You hurried off to the bathroom.

You didn’t dare look at yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t something to worry about. It was silly. It wasn’t true.

But it was the only thing you could think about now. 

Inside, you already hardened yourself....just in case he reacted badly.

How else could he react?

You didn’t even want this to be true.

“Gourmet pizza, fresh out the microwave.” He placed a slice on a plastic plate and passed it over.

“Smells amazing.” You took a bite.

“We’ll go into the city tomorrow. Is that okay?”

You nodded. “Are we going to do laundry?”

“Yeah.”

It was on of your favorite things to do. It was relaxing, just being at a laundromat silently watching the clothes spin in suds. It was peaceful almost. Who knew it took going into the city to find a peaceful and quiet place. Who knew laundromats would be your favorite place?

After enjoying some quality television for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you guys went to bed. He fell asleep quickly but you had to count sheep.

Nothing could make you stop counting. If you did stop then only one thing would be on your mind. The child that threatened everything you had with Yoongi.

_______________

The clothes were in their spin cycle and Yoongi had jar full of quarters for the vending machines.

Two bags of chocolate covered peanuts later, you got up to return to the vending machine but Yoongi grabbed your arm.

“Enough candy. Too much sugar. You need real food.”

“Yeah like frozen pizza?” You retorted. “This one’s for the road.” You lied.

He sighed and got up to accompany you.

Now he either wanted to pick something better out for you or he was going to get some junk food too.

“Mommy, I want candy.” A little boy about three years old pointed at the snacks behind the shiny glass.

His mother ignored him but it just made him whine.

“Mommy, I want candy. I need some.” He pulled on her shirt.

“Give me a minute.” She said sternly.

He began to cry and stomp his little feet on the floor. “'Mommy!”

Yoongi’s selection of chips and sour gummies dropped to the opening of the vending machine and it was your turn.

But the child kept crying and you tried really hard not to look at him. Punching in the code, your new bag of chocolates dropped down and you bent down to take them out.

The cries turned into screams as he told his mother that he wanted candy now. She continued to ignore him. 

“Hey. You can have mine. If that’s okay?” You held the small bag out.

The child ran up to you and smiled as he took the candy from your hands and quickly hid behind his mother.

“That wasn’t necessary. Next time mind your own business please.” His mother snapped.

“Next time pay attention to your fucking kid.” Yoongi replied, pulling you away.

She stood there, stunned, and you would have giggled but Yoongi was mad.

“Who the hell does she think she is talking to you like that? You shouldn’t have given that kid anything, he was acting like a brat. He’s just like his mother.”

“He’s just a kid. I felt bad for him.” You shrugged.

“And when did you get so fucking soft? Over a kid? I only feel bad that he has a mother like that. I’m more worried about us.” He said putting the clothes in the dry machine.

“You’re selfish Yoongi. Maybe you just forgot what it means to feel bad for someone.” You opened his treats and sat down on the folding table.

He stood between your legs and narrowed his eyes at you. “How can you can me selfish when I just stood up for you?”

“You didn’t have to, you know that.” You ran a hand through his hair.

“Exactly. I love you, I’m not selfish.” He said taking the candy form your hands.

You got down to get the last load of wet clothes and put them to dry, then sat down next to him and stared at the muted television.

“Why are you worried about us?” You asked, resisting the urge to rest your head on his shoulder.

“I don’t know. I just feel like we’re not going anywhere.”

“Wasn’t that the plan?”

He turned to look at you. “You saw those pictures in that house, that couple with everything. A family, vacations in the summers, golf weekends, don’t you want that?”

“Do you? I like being on the road with you. It feels like one big extended vacation. We weren’t born with luck Yoongi, I doubt we can ever live like that. I don’t mind either, I just need you. If you feel bad because we can’t have that then you’re the one going soft.”

“So if a good looking guy offers that kind of life to you right now, you won’t take it?”

You smirked and looked back at the television. “Shut up Yoongi. Do you want me to leave is that it? Is this one of your twisted plans to get me to leave you?”

He suddenly turned your face back towards him, placing a a quick kiss on your lips. “I’d kill before I let anyone take you.”

“I would kill for you too.” You said kissing him again.

You liked it when he was a little rough but he loved it when you were gentle. It was almost like teasing him.

“We’re in a laundromat Y/N. There’s kids here.” He said pulling away with a kiss on your cheek.

Kids….you remembered your pending worry.

“I’m glad you’re not sick anymore. I was worried.” He said returning his attention to the muted screen.

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his body.

“I know. I hate being sick for weeks. It just slows us down.”

“Yeah and you never want to fuck.”

You gasped and smacked his chest, giggling and hoping no one else heard his complains.

But the more you thought about it you realized that you didn’t want to have sex……just as precaution.

And the way he reacted to that incident with the kid, it wasn’t a good sign either.

You feared that he would be furious now.

Would he be?

He was talking about that couple and their family. They had pictures everywhere, all around that stupid house. Was Yoongi envious? It was hard to believe. Maybe it was just a moment of insecurity. It wasn’t like him to worry about the future.

There was no point to all this struggling but you and Yoongi made a pact to live life carelessly, passionately, without regrets and now he was starting to sound regretful.

“Yoongi do you think going on the road was a bad idea?….Do you think we made a mistake?”

He threw the towel he was folding at you. “Don’t worry about it Y/N. I just want you to be happy. Whether we ride or die, or not. I want to give you everything. So if you want something, you’ll tell me. Right?”

“I want some more chocolate.”

“For fucks sake, here.” He laughed as he handed over some quarters. You felt thrilled hearing him laugh out loud.

“Thanks babe, I love you.” You yelled as you walked towards the vending machine once again, making sure everyone heard.

Even if it embarrassed him, you wanted to make sure he knew.

If your worries were true, you hoped he remembered that. This wasn’t something you expected.

______

Part 2