#across the street

[rotflea]

[georgiacooked]

TMA episode sketch: Episode 3, Across The Street.

[sorry-but-no-sorry]

Statement of Amy Patel, regarding the alleged disappearance of her acquaintance Graham Folger.

(Not 100% happy with it. Perspective, my enemy)

[4linos]

across the street pt. 2

bang chan x fem!reader, lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis: chan finally confronts you, asking why you’ve been avoiding him all these years. his questions about nari hit too close to home, and you lie to protect her. the tension between you two is unbearable, but you convince yourself it’s the only way to keep your family intact.

wc: 3500

[across the street pt. 1, across the street pt. 3]

You had done well to avoid Chan since the moment you noticed him moving in. You weren’t sure if he had realized it was you yet, but it was only a matter of time. Still, after all these years, you had no idea how to face him. Not after everything.

But ever since you caught sight of him again, an unbearable weight had settled in your chest, the guilt of keeping Nari from him. You had told yourself it was for the best, that there was no point in dragging up the past, but now you weren’t so sure.

To Nari, her father was a distant figure, someone you had only spoken of vaguely. Whenever she asked, you told her the same thing: her dad was working far away, and you weren’t sure when he would be back. She didn’t question it much. Maybe because she had Minho. He had been there for her since she was an infant, playing the role of a father figure effortlessly, and she loved him. She didn’t seem to feel like she was missing anything.

It was a typical day when you were walking home with Nari after spending time at the park and stopping by the convenience store for a snack. But the moment you were walking up to your house, your breath caught in your throat.

Chan was there.

Leaning against your car, arms crossed over his chest, he looked like he had been waiting for you. Your heartbeat quickened. You weren’t ready for this. You didn’t know if you’d ever be ready for this.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, holding onto Nari’s small hand as you approached. Chan straightened at the sight of you, his expression unreadable.

“Can we talk?” His voice was calm, but there was something tight beneath it, something restrained.

You hesitated, but there was no point in avoiding him now. You nodded, then crouched down to Nari’s level, handing her the small bag with her snack inside. “Go inside to Minho, okay?”

She looked between you and Chan curiously but nodded, skipping off toward the house without question. Chan’s eyes followed her for a moment before flicking back to you.

An uneasy silence stretched between you before he finally spoke. “How have you been?”

You inhaled deeply, deciding there was no use in lying. “I’ve been good.”

He nodded slowly, as if turning the words over in his mind. Then his expression hardened slightly. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I saw you the first day I moved in. I know you saw me too, but you didn’t say anything. So tell me. Why have you been avoiding me?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Are you serious? It’s been years, Chan. We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms. Why would I go out of my way to talk to you?”

His jaw clenched. “Because the breakup wasn’t mutual,” he countered, his voice lower now. “It was your choice. I didn’t get a say. You blocked me. You blocked Changbin and Jisung. You even blocked my family. I couldn’t reach you. I tried looking for you everywhere.” His voice wavered slightly, and he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “And now, after all this time, I find out you’ve been here this whole time, living a completely different life.”

You had no response to that. You didn’t know how to explain the choices you had made back then, the things you had been afraid of, the things you were still afraid of.

After a long moment, you swallowed hard and said, “Things are different now. I have my daughter, and I have my boyfriend. Minho.”

Chan’s expression shifted the moment you mentioned Minho, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze flickering toward the house where Nari had disappeared inside.

His voice was careful when he spoke again. “Your daughter… How old is she?”

Your stomach twisted, your heart pounding so loudly you thought he might hear it. The way he asked, it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t just curiosity. It was almost like he already knew but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

You swallowed hard, keeping your face neutral. “She’s four, almost five.”

Chan inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched at his sides, and he nodded slowly, like he was piecing things together in real time. “four,” he repeated under his breath.

He didn’t need to say anything else. The timeline was obvious. Too obvious. You could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the unspoken question hanging between you like a blade.

Your breath felt shallow. You had to stop this before it went any further. Before he figured it out.

“She’s Minho’s,” you said, forcing the words out evenly, even as they made you sick to your stomach. “We’ve been together for a long time.”

Chan flinched. It was subtle, but you saw it. The way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled into fists for just a second before he forced himself to relax. He gave a small, tight nod, looking away.

“Right,” he said after a moment. “Minho’s daughter.”

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else. You couldn’t.

The silence between you was suffocating. He was staring at the ground now, lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back. Maybe he believed you. Maybe he didn’t. But either way, the weight of your lie settled over you, heavier than anything you had felt before.

And for the first time since you had left him, you felt something dangerously close to regret.

You inhaled sharply, forcing down the lump in your throat as you squared your shoulders. “Are you done questioning me?” you asked, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded against your ribs.

Chan’s eyes flickered back to yours, searching, but you didn’t let him see anything beyond your indifference. You couldn’t. If he saw even a sliver of doubt, he’d dig deeper, and you weren’t sure you could handle that.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, but before he could say anything, the front door creaked open.

“Babe?” Minho’s voice cut through the tense air like a blade. You turned just as he stepped outside, his sharp eyes scanning the scene between you and Chan. His posture was relaxed, but there was something guarded in the way he held himself, like he was ready to step in if needed. “Everything okay out here?”

You blinked, swallowing back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice softer now. “We were just finishing up.”

Before Minho could say anything else, a small voice called from inside.

“Mommy! Hurry up!” Nari’s little face appeared in the doorway, a bright grin spread across her lips. “Minho and I are waiting! It’s movie night!”

Chan’s entire body stiffened at the sound of her voice. You felt it. How he went rigid beside you, how his hands twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but knew he couldn’t.

You turned away from him before he could say anything, before you could see the look in his eyes that might shatter the fragile lie you had built.

“Coming, baby,” you called back, quickly stepping toward the house. Minho gave Chan one last unreadable glance before wrapping an arm around your waist, guiding you inside.

You didn’t dare look back. You couldn’t. Because if you did, you might break.

As soon as you stepped inside, Nari ran off to the living room, giggling as she flopped onto the couch, already getting comfortable for movie night. You watched her for a brief moment, her little feet kicking excitedly against the cushions, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

Minho, however, didn’t move. His arm stayed firm around your waist, his body warm and steady against yours. He didn’t speak right away, he never did when he knew you were holding something in. He just stood there, waiting, giving you the space to say what you needed to say.

And just like that, the weight of the conversation with Chan crashed down on you all at once. The guilt, the fear, the overwhelming ache of seeing him again, it was suffocating. Before you could stop yourself, your hands clutched onto Minho’s shirt, and your body trembled as the sobs you’d been holding back finally broke free.

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly, holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

Through broken sobs, you told him everything. You told him how Chan had confronted you, how he had known you were avoiding him, how he asked about Nari, almost as if he knew the truth but wasn’t sure how to say it. You confessed how terrified you were, terrified of what would happen if Chan found out, terrified of what it would do to Nari, to you, to everything you had built.

Minho listened silently, rubbing slow, comforting circles against your back. He didn’t tell you what you should have done, didn’t tell you that you were wrong or right, he just held you, letting you pour out the emotions that had been trapped inside you for so long.

When your sobs finally quieted, he pulled back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the lingering tears, his gaze soft but firm. “Nari’s going to see you cry,” he murmured gently. “You don’t want her to worry, do you?”

You sniffled, shaking your head. He smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours. “Take a deep breath,” he instructed softly. “One more.”

You followed his lead, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, grounding yourself in his presence.

“Better?” he asked, still holding you close.

You nodded weakly, and he grinned. “Good. Now, come on. We have a movie night to get to.”

And just like that, he led you to the living room, where Nari was waiting, her bright eyes looking up at you expectantly. You mustered up a smile for her, ignoring the way your heart still ached, and sat down beside her. Minho joined you, subtly slipping his hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

And for now, just for tonight, you let yourself believe that this was enough.

The movie played in the background, some animated film that Nari had already seen a dozen times but still watched with the same excitement. She curled up against you, her tiny fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve as she hummed along to the music. Minho sat on the other side of her, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, fingers occasionally grazing your shoulder in a silent reminder that he was there.

For a while, everything felt normal. Safe. Like the confrontation with Chan hadn’t happened.

But as much as you wanted to ignore it, your mind kept replaying his words. The way he had looked at you, almost like he was searching for something confirmation, maybe, or some kind of truth he already suspected.

You stole a glance at Nari.

Could he really tell?

She had always resembled you more, but there were pieces of Chan in her, too. The curve of her smile, the way she scrunched her nose when she was deep in thought, her soft bouncy curls, and the little dimple that appeared when she laughed too hard. Maybe it had been enough to make him wonder.

Your stomach twisted.

Minho must have noticed your change in demeanor because his fingers brushed over your wrist, grounding you. You turned to him, and he didn’t say anything, just gave you a knowing look.

You’re overthinking again.

You exhaled softly, leaning into his touch.

Once the movie ended and Nari’s eyes started to droop, Minho carried her to bed, tucking her in as she mumbled sleepily about wanting pancakes for breakfast. When he returned, he found you in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter, lost in thought.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice gentle as he approached.

You hesitated before whispering, “What if he finds out?”

Minho sighed, leaning against the counter beside you. “You’re scared he’ll try to take her away.”

You nodded, throat tightening. “Or that she’ll want to know him. That everything will change.”

Minho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “If that happens, we’ll handle it,” he said simply. “You’re not alone in this.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache.

You swallowed hard, squeezing his hand. “I don’t regret choosing this life,” you admitted. “I just—”

“You’re afraid of losing it.”

You nodded again, and Minho pulled you into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “Together.”

And as much as the fear still lingered, you held onto his words.

You barely got any sleep that night. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind raced with possibilities.

How would Chan react? Would he be angry? Hurt? Would he hate you for keeping this from him?

But the worst thought of all, the one that made your stomach twist was Nari.

Would she resent you for lying to her? For keeping her father away, even if you had done it out of fear? Would she grow up and look at you differently, wondering why you hadn’t told her the truth sooner?

And then there was the most terrifying possibility of all..

Would Chan try to take her away from you?

The thought sent a sharp pain through your chest. No matter what happened, Nari was your baby. You had raised her, loved her, cared for her every single day since she was born. The idea of losing even a second with her was unbearable.

By the time morning came, you felt like a shell of yourself. The exhaustion clung to you, but you forced yourself to get up and start the day as usual.

Minho knew.

When he kissed you goodbye before heading to work, he lingered for a moment, his hand brushing your cheek as he studied your face. But he didn’t say anything. He knew you weren’t ready to talk. Instead, he pressed a softer kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Take it easy today,” before he left.

And then it was just you and Nari.

You went about your day as normally as you could, pushing your thoughts aside for the sake of your daughter. You took her to the park, watching as she ran around with boundless energy, giggling as she chased butterflies and picked tiny flowers to hand to you.

For a little while, things felt okay.

But as you walked home, her small hand in yours, her voice filled the air as she rambled about everything on her mind, her favorite part of the park, the snack she wanted when she got home, the pretty blue bird she had seen.

And then, out of nowhere,

“Mommy, when is my daddy coming home?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

The words came so suddenly, so casually, as if she had simply asked what was for dinner. But to you, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you.

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, and you forced yourself to stay calm.

“Why do you ask, baby?” you said softly, trying to keep your voice even.

Nari shrugged, swinging your hand as she skipped along beside you. “I dunno. I just haven’t seen him in a long time.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs.

She hadn’t mentioned her father in months. Not since the last time you had told her he was working far away.

And yet, here she was, asking again.

You forced a small smile, brushing her hair back gently. “Do you miss him?”

She hummed in thought before shrugging again. “I guess. But I have Minho! He’s kinda like a daddy too.”

Your breath hitched.

You blinked rapidly, forcing back the sudden sting in your eyes as a wave of guilt crashed over you.

She had accepted Minho so easily, had found comfort in him without question. But it didn’t change the fact that her real father had no idea she even existed.

You needed to tell Chan.

And soon.

The realization clung to you like a weight on your chest the entire walk home. Each step felt heavier, the guilt gnawing at you, relentless and unforgiving.

As you reached your house, your eyes drifted across the street to Chan’s home. You lingered for a second, staring at the place where he lived, where he had unknowingly been so close to his daughter all this time.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the thought aside, just for now and helped Nari inside. She kicked off her shoes in a hurry, already racing toward her room to dig through her toys.

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

The thought followed you through the rest of the evening, settling deep in your mind, refusing to be ignored.

When Minho got home, the three of you had dinner together like usual. Nari happily chatted away between bites, and Minho shared bits and pieces of his day, cracking jokes to make her laugh.

You tried to engage. Tried to smile and eat like normal.

But Minho noticed. He always did.

After dinner, Nari ran off to watch a movie, leaving just you and Minho at the table. He continued talking about his day, but when he noticed your distant stare, the way you were poking at your plate rather than eating, he stopped mid-sentence.

“Alright,” he said, placing his chopsticks down. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, shaking yourself from your thoughts. “What?”

Minho gave you a knowing look. “You’ve been out of it all night. What happened?”

You hesitated.

But this was Minho. He had been by your side through everything, through every breakdown and moment of doubt. You knew you didn’t have to hide from him.

So, with a deep breath, you whispered, “I’m going to tell Chan.”

His expression didn’t shift in surprise, he had seen this coming. He simply nodded, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand gently.

“If that’s what you feel is right, then do it,” he said, his voice calm, steady. “And if you need me, I’ll be there.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth seeping into the cracks of your uncertainty.

You nodded. “Thank you.”

Minho smiled back, giving your hand a small squeeze before letting go.

And for the first time all day, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter.

The next morning, Minho had the day off, which meant there was no excuse to put this off any longer.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with your fingers, you finally gathered the courage to tell him. “I’m going to talk to Chan.”

Minho, who had been brushing through Nari’s hair as she sat on the floor, looked up at you. His expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Alone?”

You nodded. “For now. I just… I need to do this myself.”

He studied you for a moment before nodding. “Alright. I’ll stay with Nari.” His voice was steady, reassuring. He didn’t question your decision, didn’t try to talk you out of it. He simply accepted it, like he always did.

Then, as you stood up to leave, he reached for your wrist, pulling you closer just enough to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, offering a weak smile before stepping away.

The walk across the street felt longer than it should have. Every step felt heavy, your heart pounding harder with each one. When you reached Chan’s front door, you hesitated for a split second before raising your hand and knocking.

It didn’t take long for him to answer.

Chan stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a mess, eyes groggy with sleep. He had clearly just woken up, but the second he saw you standing there, all traces of exhaustion vanished. His brows furrowed in confusion, his mouth parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“Hey,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can we talk?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, still processing the fact that you were standing at his doorstep. But then, he blinked, stepping aside to let you in.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “Yeah, of course.”

And just like that, you stepped inside, bracing yourself for the conversation that would change everything.

//

masterlist.

🚫 proofread

[taglist: @alisonyus @bowsnbang @mariteez @melanctton @candyquokka .. if you’d like to be added too let me know!]

[reu8ell]

Keep watching

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street” pt. 2

-3k-ish words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: thanks for all the love on my last post!! i took some inspiration from a few joel miller fics for this one. also, referring to the ending, gotta let it marinate or sum. and if you get the orange reference, marry me.

summary: you have a late night phone call with yk who, and build furniture in the morning.

part one is here!

————————————————————————————

You plopped down in your chair, sighing while rubbing hand sanitizer over your hands. Your shift had been busy as hell, this being the first break you had all day, and it was only halfway over. You wiped your now clean hands over your eyes, trying to rub the tired soreness out of them. At least the pay is good, you thought.

Your coworker calling your name pulled you away from your thoughts.

“25 wants you again.” They said.

“Why me?” You whined.

“I don’t know, I think she prefers women.” They answered your rhetorical, giving you a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck me, I’m going to have to take my lunch after this. I’m never working another Sunday.” You said, standing up on your practically creaking legs.

This was how the rest of your afternoon went, running in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off. “23 wants an ice cream,” “25 pulled out her IV again,” “Call security on 26, he’s trying to leave.” It was an absolute shit show, you hardly had a chance to see the time on your phone, let alone check for a text that you were desperate to receive.

Your drive home was quiet, soft music playing to hopefully decompress you. It always seemed to help. You pulled into your driveway, noticing the lights on at a certain someone’s house across the street, his old Accord telling you that he was home. You turned your car off, trying to stop looking at it from your rearview.

Walking into your house wasn’t as satisfying as you’d hoped, boxes still covering the floor. You took your shoes off as you set your work bag on the ground. You looked at your bed frame again in the dark, not bothering to turn a light on. Was a day too early to expect a message? Was that considered desperate? Probably, you thought. But fuck, you were so desperate. He checked all the boxes,

cute? : check

siblings? : check

caring? : check

a little mean? : check

dorky as hell? : check

abandonment issues? : probably check!

You forced yourself to pull your eyes off the box. As the saying goes, a watched fish doesn’t get caught.

That’s not right, you think. Your tired brain can’t decipher what you were trying to go for, but you knew it would’ve worked.

Anyways, constantly thinking about someone texting you doesn’t help anything. You plugged your phone into the charger near the couch, purposefully ignoring staring at it for too long.

Your eyes fell back to the boxes surrounding you. You passed them all, going straight to your bathroom to shower.

The shower was the right call, you decided. Scorching water loosened your muscles and kept your mind in the present. Washing the outside world off your skin was the highlight of your day.

You got out of the shower, eventually. The warm water didn’t last as long as you had hoped, though it did try. Your nearly hour-long shower would overwhelm any water heater on the market. You quickly dried yourself off, taking the time to brush your teeth and apply your skincare before wrapping your towel around yourself and stepping into your bedroom. You threw on some pajamas from your suitcase that moved with you; pajama pants and an old shirt.

You balled up your work clothes into your towel and put them all in the laundry basket in the corner of your room, already beginning to overflow. You reminded yourself to start the laundry sometime tomorrow as you walked back to your temporary bed, the large green couch in your living room.

You pulled back the covers on the couch, piling into it. You had completely decked it out; two blankets, a comforter, two pillows (one for your head, one for between your legs), and the fan dialed up. You closed your eyes, listening to the white noise of the fan above you.

You were interrupted by the shrill noise of your phone ringing behind you. You groaned, folding your blankets over so you could get off the couch and walk to the charger. You ripped your phone off the charger, taking it with you as you laid back into your bed. You re-adjusted your blankets before pulling the phone under your ear and swiping to accept the call.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Hey.” A voice responded. It took you a moment, but eventually, you recognized it. You were suddenly awake with nervousness.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Hi. Um, I texted you,” He said, sounding more like a question than a comment. “A few times, not a big deal. I just wanted to make sure you were alive.” He joked.

You paused, trying to quickly check your messages.

“You there?” He asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I’ve been working all day. It was super busy, so I didn’t have time to check my phone, and when I got home all I was thinking about was sleep.” You described.

“No need to be sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay.” You responded.

“Good, good,” He pauses. “So, um, how was your day?”

“Pretty shitty.” You summarize, hearing him laugh in the background.

“Tell me about it.”

So, you did. You proceeded to tell him all the gritty details about your job. What your coworkers are like, the patients that you had to deal with, the frequent fliers, all of it. He asked a lot of questions, making you feel more comfortable rambling on to him.

“What’d you have for lunch?” He asked.

“I had leftover wingstop, I barely have any food at the house.”

“What’s your order?”

“Eight-piece boneless, classic hot. With fries, ranch, and a huge coke. It was amazing,” You said, practically salivating remembering it. “What about you and Abs?” You asked.

“It was very fancy, I don’t know if you’re prepared to hear me talk about it, you might be jealous,” He said sarcastically. “I made cheese quesadillas.”

You laughed a little too long at that, surprised. He was funny, another check.

You talked on the phone for a while, so long that you were talking about the most boring stuff. Like how Abby was a picky eater, and it annoyed Mike because all he wanted to do was eat a good burger now and again. It was sickly sweet and felt like being a teenager again. Whispering as to not wake your parents up, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you up past your bedtime.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you fell asleep on the phone. Mike was talking about something, maybe about the tv show he had been watching. You’re not exactly positive, but you know that you passed out cold.

Your eyes fluttered open, the phone still pressed up against your cheek, warm from the contact. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your dream in your mind. You had to think hard, as it was delicate. If you let it go, you’d never remember what it was.

It was a good dream, as most of yours tended to be. You didn’t remember a lot, only pieces of it. But you knew Mike was there. You knew that he had led you to your bed, pulling you under the covers with him. You talked, cuddling close to him. God, it had felt so real. You could practically see the lines under his eyes and the pores on his nose. You smiled, but this felt a little creepy at this point. Borderline delusional, your mind added. You barely knew him and you were already dreaming about him.

You grabbed the phone from under your face, groaning as it got unstuck from your skin. Thankfully, it wasn’t dead. You unlocked it, taking the opportunity to look at the texts that you had gotten the night before.

Yesterday, 12:36 pm: hey, this is mike. i’ll need you on the weekends from 8 am-4 pm. and idc that you said not to pay you, i’m building your bed too.

Yesterday, 2:49 pm: you okay?

Yesterday, 5:03 pm: not to be creepy, but i think i’m going to call you. you’re worrying me a little lol

Today, 1:45 am: i think you fell asleep, i’ll talk to you in the morning :)

You smiled, making a contact for him. “mike <3” was now typing. Three little dots popped up on your screen and you quickly swiped out in nervousness. You opened it again when you got a notification.

Today, 10:23 am: i dropped abby off for school and slept in a little, is it okay if i come over to build that bed frame for you?

You smiled again, quickly replying to make up for last night.

Today, 10:24 am: yeah, ofc. give me a few minutes to wake up lol, i need to brush my teeth and clean up for a second.

He replied immediately.

Today, 10:24 am: lmk when you’re ready

You willed yourself to stop smiling, god it had been too long. You hardly knew how to act with a potential date.

“Oh, god.” You muttered to yourself, realizing you had to talk to him. Why did you have to talk to a man to get a boyfriend? Why couldn’t it just happen telepathically?

You sighed, rolling off the couch. You plugged your phone back into the charger, making your way to the bathroom. You completed your morning routine and ran to your bedroom to pick something out to wear for the day. You decided to go for casual, grey sweatpants and a green hoodie. Didn’t want to seem too desperate. You pulled your socks up your feet, laughing at yourself.

You grabbed a quick breakfast from your kitchen, consisting of leftover cookies and a slice of cold pizza. You tried your best to tidy your place up, moving boxes to the corner of the living room. Running down the hallway to your bedroom with your boxed bed frame in hand, you placed it on the floor, taking the other boxes and moving them to the hallway. You scrubbed your toilet and sink, turning on the air fresheners you had placed around the house.

You washed your hands, drying them before returning to the living room. You texted Mike, letting him know that you were ready. He liked the text message, and in less than two minutes he was knocking on your door.

You eyed the door at the noise. Jesus, he was not playing around. You took another deep breath, opening the door to see him standing there with a small smile. He went for casual too, you noted. He wore a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. He held a bag, which you assumed was full of tools.

You smiled at him as a greeting and opened the door wider to allow him to walk into your house.

“Hey.” He said as you walked past you.

“Hi, thanks for coming so quickly.” You responded. “You didn’t have to, the payment feels premature.” You joked, shutting the front door. He looked a you for a second while taking his shoes off at the entryway.

“Shut up, you can’t sleep on the couch for a week”

“I totally can.” You bite back.

“You won’t, where’s your bedroom?” He finished, looking at you again.

You were shocked into silence, feeling your cheeks warm up. The comment made your head spin. Fuck, could he tell that you liked that?

You said nothing, ignoring his little smirk as you walked him to your bedroom. He followed behind you, dropping the bag on the floor with a small thump.

“Do you need any help or something?” You asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

“No, I’m good. I’ve done a lot of stuff like this,” He answered, shrugging. “You could put on some background music?” He suggested.

“That, I can do.”

You nodded, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You hesitated, before choosing a slower playlist of yours. Something calm, that you didn’t have to focus on. He nodded in enjoyment, then began to open the box that held your bed frame. He spilled the contents onto the floor, then kneeled on the ground. He started pulling stuff out of his bag. You guessed correctly, it was full of tools.

You just watched, sitting down against the wall of your room. It was attractive, him expertly putting your bed frame together. He was good with his hands, you wondered what else he was good at. He looked at you after a moment.

“You just gonna watch?”

“If that’s okay.” You shrugged, he nodded at your sort of question. He tried to hide his smile.

He was going to town, drilling, piecing parts together, all while completely ignoring the instructions. He didn’t need them.

After a while, you could tell he was getting hot. His black shirt was sticking to his skin. You hated to admit that it did something to you. You felt a warmth settle in your stomach and tried your best to will it away. Your eyes settled on his back, looking up to his neck when he turned towards you.

“Why’re looking at me like that?” He asked, eyes narrowed out of curiosity.

You made eye contact with him like a deer in headlights. Smiling at you, he laughed a little. Your words were stuck in your throat, embarrassed about being caught.

��Um, do you want some water?” You settled on.

“Sure.” He answered, chuckling at your suddenly shy demeanor.

You stood up off the floor and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. What the fuck was that? You scolded yourself, internally. Now he was going to think that you were a horny weirdo. I mean, you were, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

You shook your head at yourself as you poured him a glass. This was ridiculous, you needed to chill out.

You came back into the bedroom and handed him the glass. He took it from you gratefully, fingers brushing over yours as he grabbed it. Telling you a small “thank you,” he brought the glass to his lips and began to drink greedily. You watched him as he downed the glass, some dripping down his chin.

When he was finished, he wiped a hand over his stubble. He looked over to you, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He held the glass out to you and you took it, quickly walking out of the room.

You placed the glass in the sink, blinking to try and bring yourself back to life. How did someone make drinking water look so good? How was that even possible? And god, the look he gave you.

You needed to get it together before you blew it. Talk to him, say something, anything other than just fucking staring at him.

You walked back into the room with a mission, you were going to talk to him. Taking your spot on the floor, you cleared your throat.

“So, what’s your favorite food?” You decided on.

He barely paused before answering, “Definitely pasta, like a good chicken alfredo.”

“Shit, that’s a good answer. I’m really into sushi right now. Can’t afford it, but into it.” You said, smiling at his willingness to answer.

The stupid questions continued for a few minutes. The two of you got to know the smallest details of your likes and dislikes. Turns out, Mike can’t stand the color yellow but loves orange. He’s not much of a drinker, mainly because he can’t afford it, but he does occasionally smoke weed. He’s a cat person but would get a dog if Abby asked for one. It killed you when he talked about his sister because it was so obvious how much he loved her.

Eventually, he finished your bed frame. The gentleman that he is forced him to carry your mattress in from the laundry room, helping you set that up too. Mike may have been on the shorter side, but he was strong as hell. The two of you put on your sheets, blankets, pillows, and finally your comforter. It was almost too domestic, too real.

When you were finished, you didn’t want him to leave. You think he felt the same. This was confirmed when he saw the tv sitting in your closet.

“Do you want me to mount that for you?” He asked.

I want you to mount me, you fought against saying.

“That would be great.” You agreed.

Mike probably spent three hours helping you put your bedroom together, setting up shelves, arranging your cabinets, and helping you put your pictures and posters up while you talked his ear off.

Even though you told him a million times that he didn’t need to, he hung your clothes up in your closet while you folded the rest to go in your new dresser. Finally, your room was fully decorated and unpacked.

He rubbed his hands together, settling on the end of your bed. You sat next to him.

“Thank you, seriously. I was dreading doing all of that by myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said.

You both looked at each other for a second too long, the tension between the two of you becoming thick. You took breaks from looking at his eyes by moving down to his lips. You took a deep breath, noticing him moving closer to you.

He hesitated, pushing a stray hair behind your ear instead. His hand lingered on your face, eventually moving down your arm to put your hand in his. He interlocked your fingers together, pulling it close to him and pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. He held you there, hand resting on his chin. This was almost more intimate than a kiss, you thought.

“Do you not-” You started, getting interrupted.

“I want to, believe me.”

You looked at him, willing him to continue.

“I don’t want you to think that’s all this is.” He explained, you nodded. You know that this was him being respectful, but it made you want to tear his clothes off even more. Forbidden fruit, if you will.

“Let me take you on a date, tomorrow on my lunch break. I know a place you’d like.” He continued.

“Okay.” You said, smiling.

————————————————————————————

**i do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

[ferallantern]

Graham Folger had connections to The Stranger (NotThem), The Eye (You cannot tell me that man was not an avatar of The Eye), The Web (Web Table), and The End (his ex-boyfriend is Oliver Banks) and like damn Elias why didn’t you get him to be the Archivist?? If your only criteria was “weird, depressed, and gay” then Graham fits that to a tea.

He even already had experience in eating statements, as in the paper statements, eating the paper. In my opinion he was over qualified.

[excali-bruh]

MAG 3 Across The Street

[sleepyheadnat]

MAG 3 - Across The Street

[iwillstabyou]

This was meant to be just a “quick doodle” but I guess I got carried away…

Across The Street is one of my favourite TMA episodes so this was very fun to draw. I’m kinda tempted to draw some of the other episodes too so feel free to make suggestions

[tmascrapbook]

Mag 3: Across the Street

[lilies-and-laughing-gas]

MAG 3 - Across the Street

Previous | Start | Next

Season 1 |

Original sketch down below:

[pastadrawstma]

Doing the spotify wrapped art challenge with the TMA friends. This is 3 with Oliver and Graham. Lyrics are from Scum by Lovejoy

Btw if any of you wanna send me a number in my ask box thats between 1-100 and a character from TMA that would be really fun to continue doing this

(requested by @podxol and @char-lie-spirals hai guys :3)

Day 8 of posting magpod art daily

[4linos]

also! across the street was originally supposed to be even more angsty than it already is. here’s a small snippet of the original part that i’ve discarded for now.

(chan kisses y/n but y/n doesn’t tell minho, minho finds out through nari. 🥲.)

[slapphapp1]

Season 1 Episode 3: Across the Street

HAS BEEN LISTENED TO

I LOVE THIS EPISODE SO MUCH IT SETS UP SO MUCH FOR THE FUTURE AND JUST SO MUCH FORSHADOWING

JOHNATHAN SIMS THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

It cut off the last two texts (I didn’t want to make a whole other post for just two texts)

@fairy-writes :

“I’d hope you’d know”

Me:

“Spoilers”

Anyways, sorry this took so long, school is actually the worst and both fairy and I are full-time students so we do this whenever we have time which is not very often

ALSO I FINISHED EPIC THE MUSICAL AND ITS ACTUALLY SO GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH (very grateful fairy made me listen to it)

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street”

-1.5k words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: i’ve never written anything like this, so pls let me live lmao ik that it’s corny. this is more self indulgent than anything, but the mike schmidt hype has hit me hard 😭

summary: you move into a new place and meet your neighbors

————————————————————————————

A sudden knocking pulled you out of your sleep, causing you to sit up on the couch. You looked at your surroundings for a moment, trying to remember where you were.

You had just moved into the house that you were leasing the night before, and still had so much to unpack. It was on the smaller side, a two bedroom one bathroom, but it was a steal for the price. Boxes were strewn around the room, and your eyes landed on one particularly large one. Your bed frame, which was still taped up. Leading you to fall asleep on the couch last night.

Another knock, smaller than the first, was heard. You hopped off the couch, suddenly remembering the cause of your early morning. You ran a hand through your hair, double-checking your outfit. Of course, someone had to knock as you were in pajamas; an old oversized t-shirt, and some black shorts.

“I’m coming, sorry!” You yelled, speed walking up to the front door.

Before you could look around you, you tripped on a box next to the couch. You fell, and landed directly on your ass, shouting out a loud curse.

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your stubbed toe. At least your socks took the brunt of the pain.

“Are you okay?” A muffled voice asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry, this is embarrassing.” You rambled, mostly to yourself.

You took in a deep breath, what a morning. You stood from the ground, now directly in front of the large wooden door. You tried your best to compose yourself before you were unlocking and swinging it open.

Standing in front of you was a little girl. She had bangs, a huge smile, and a big tupperware box in her small hands. Next to her was a young man, around your age. He was definitely attractive, in jeans and a grey sweatshirt. You looked at him for a little longer than socially acceptable before speaking.

“Hi.” You said with a small smile.

“Hi!” The little girl replied, her smile mimicking yours.

“Uh, this is my sister, Abby.” The cute guy said, gesturing towards his sister. You followed his movement with your eyes, landing on her again. You smiled at her before he continued.

“I’m Mike-“ He said before he was interrupted.

“We live across the street,” Abby said loudly. He glanced at her, nodding at her comment. You held back a laugh at his annoyed expression. They were siblings, alright.

“We made some cookies, thought we’d introduce ourselves.” He finished.

You made eye contact with him, finally, too overwhelmed to do it before. God, was it a mistake. How could you control yourself when he was so fine? He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft expression on his face. You were fucked.

You introduced yourself, Abby complimenting your name.

“Thank you so much for the cookies, I bet you did all the work.” You said, winking at Abby. She quickly nodded, and her brother bumped into her playfully with his hip. She giggled, handing the box over to you.

“Do you guys want to come in and try these with me? My house is a mess, but it’s whatever.” You asked, hoping that he would agree.

Abby looked over to Mike for his approval, she muttered a tiny “please”. He seemed to be contemplating before you continued.

“I have milk.”

“Okay.” He said. You opened the door further at his answer, leading them into your house. Mike closed the door behind you all.

You took them to your kitchen, which was thankfully the cleanest place in your house. You set the box on the island, opening up your fridge, and grabbing the half gallon of milk you had bought. You grabbed your only glasses and filled them up. You set one in front of each of them.

“You guys caught me on a good day, with the milk.” You joked, noticing Mike’s small chuckle.

Cookies were dispersed, and you groaned as you bit into it. You nodded in enjoyment, taking a small sip of milk.

“These are good.” You said to yourself.

Abby nodded enthusiastically, “I already had some before we came over.” She said.

You laughed at her comment and looked over to Mike, who was looking at Abby with the same exasperated look from earlier.

“You had to taste test them, I understand.” You said to her.

Abby looked at her brother, and then back towards you. He looked confused for a second but then spoke.

“Oh- um, what brought you to the neighborhood?” He asked, popping the rest of his cookie in his mouth. You wiped the crumbs off your hands before answering.

“I work at the hospital over here, so I decided to get a place to myself that was closer.” You said simply.

“Oh, that’s awesome. So you live by yourself?”

“Yep, just me.” You answered, wondering about him. “What about the two of you?”

“Just us.” He said simply, you nodded at his answer.

“Abby, how old are you?” You asked, trying to include her in the conversation more.

“I’m about to turn ten.” She replied.

“What about you?” Mike asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’m twenty-one.” You answered. His eyes lit up for a second.

“Twenty-two,” He said, pointing to himself. You smiled at his goofy gesture.

You were so screwed, you had a thing for dorks. Fuck it, you thought. Might as well try.

“Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way if you needed a favor, or a babysitter,” You said, looking at Abby’s smiling face. “And we could go out for lunch or something.”

He raised his eyebrows for a second but quickly recovered.

“Yeah, yeah,” He squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That would be great.”

He quickly reached into the pocket of his hoodie and unlocked his phone. He swiped for a second before handing it to you, already on the contacts app. You smiled, putting in your number and name with a “<3” next to it. You returned it to him, noticing his eyes on you.

“Um, Abs. Can you give us a second?” He said, shooing her out of the kitchen.

“You can turn the tv on if you want, Abby. The remote’s on the couch.” You added, she nodded and sent her brother a thumbs up. You smiled at the silly action.

He seemed to need a second to compose himself, so you used his silence to grab the glasses and rinse them out in the sink. You heard the tv click on in the background. As you were placing the cups in the dishwasher, Mike cleared his throat. You turned back to him.

“Were you serious about the babysitting thing? If not, that’s fine. We can just get lunch or something-“ He rambled, you noticed the way he wasn’t rejecting you. You cut his sentence short.

“I was serious, about both.” You clarified, and he nodded at your response. He turned around for a second, looking at his sister. He looked at you again and walked closer to you. He lowered his voice before speaking again.

“This is embarrassing, okay? I really need someone to watch her, but I don’t know how much I could pay you. I haven’t been able to find someone that we can afford.”

“Mike, you don’t have to pay me. She’s a good kid. And I live across the street, it’s easy. Just text me when you need, and I can change my schedule.” You said, feeling helpful.

“You would literally be saving my life.” He expressed, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

“Of course,” You said, looking past him and into your cluttered house. “Could you maybe do me a favor instead of paying me?”

He looked at you through his hands.

“Would you help me build my bed frame? I had movers bring in the big stuff, and I could’ve paid them to build it, but they were already so expensive and-“

“Yeah.” He breathed out.

“Yeah?” You asked, not sure what to say.

He nodded, looking at you like he was trying to see through you. Then he looked down at his phone and smiled. When he looked up again he had a light pink on his cheeks.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing. Uh, we’ve gotta go. I need to get Abby to school, but it was great meeting you. I’ll text you. About babysitting and lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nodded again, a small smile on his face. He rounded Abby up and you walked them out. You stood against the doorframe, while the two of them stood in front of you.

“I’ll text.” He repeated.

“I’ll wait.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a second, neither wanting to walk away. You liked this weird banter the two of you had.

“Do you think he’s cute? ” Abby asked, voice monotone.

Your eyes widened, and you started laughing. This was going to be fun, you thought.

————————————————————————————

**I do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **