#i know what my mother would do & it’s u know ring a dish towel a bit & WHACK swat it she’s a professional at MURDER but i Cannot

[bibleofficial]

sometimes i do shit that i just end up looking back at myself like 😐 for. example: i caught a fly & put it outside

[pastelpastryblog]

In love with my best friend 💗 - PH-1 chapter 4

Genre: Everything (angst/fluff/ romance/etc)

Main characters: Y/N (reader), PH-1/ Harry

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Back home before Harry left for university, Harry and I would always go to the theatres to watch movies. He bought tickets for us to watch “Bad boys for life” at 4:30pm but its 4pm and Kimberly is still at Harry’s house. I wouldn’t mind her being here and going to the movies with us if she was at least nice to me, but she isn’t. When me and harry would talk to each other, she makes sure that the conversation shifts to her, its like she really doesn’t want me to be here and it’s making me feel uncomfortable. I just wish that Harry could see that. Time is up and we decide to leave for the movies. Harry offered to drive us in his car, but I insist to drive instead because I knew Kimberley was going to be making remarks like “the girlfriend should always sit in the passenger seat, next to her boyfriend” and quite frankly, I didn’t want to hear it. As soon as she looks at my car, she already had something to say.

-          “So, this is the car that you want us to ride in? Jesus Christ, we should have just called an Uber” she torts out loud and obnoxiously

-          “Why don’t we ride in your car then, since mine isn’t good enough for you.” I defend myself and my car.

-          “Y/N, Kimberley doesn’t have a car. She doesn’t even have a license yet” Harry says silently as he nudges me to be quiet.

I laugh silently when I heard that. My car has 5 doors and 4 wheels and its not a crappy car so what’s the matter with that? Even if it was a crappy car, it does what it needs to do and takes me to places so what’s the issue? I unlock my car and I get in. Just when harry is about to open the door to sit in the passenger seat, Kimberly rushes to harry and pulls him to the back so that they could sit together. I know I said this already but I’m really Harry’s uber driver, aren’t I? first I deliver his food, and now this? Laughable. We get to the movies and Kimberley begs harry to buy her a ticket. Finally, we get into the theatre and I was thinking that because me and Kimberley don’t know each other AND she just hates me off rip, it would be sensible for Harry to sit in between us but nope, Kimberley decided to let a group of four find seats before her and Harry. While all of this was happening, I thought that both Harry and Kimberley were behind me and because of that, I end up sitting by myself and have 5 strangers (including Kimberley) sit between me and harry. I didn’t even get to watch the movie properly because all I could think about was the fun me and Harry could have had. I even started to question why I even took time off from work to come here.

A few hours later, the movie ended. Harry planned that we go bowling and to a pizza place, but Kimberley didn’t want to do that. She had other plans instead, so we went back home. Harry and started to feel very hungry and so we went into the fridge and took out the food that auntie made. Harry happened to have ingredients that should be eaten with the side dishes that his mother made, so he asked Kimberley if she could wash and make the rice while he fried eggs and peeled some potatoes.

-          “I’m not your maid for you to be asking me to wash the rice. Do it yourself.” she says while folding her arms with a ferocious expression spread across her face.

-          “Kim, just help me this once. I’m already peeling potatoes and will fry the rice. Please? We’re all going to eat this anyway, so you might as well help. Plus, its quicker too.” Harry conveys to Kimberley.

-          “I don’t want to eat whatever this atrocious food is. It smells horrible. Ew, is that seaweed? Yeah, I don’t like whatever this nonsense is. Who made this?” Kimberley viciously says while directly making eye contact with me.

While she is pretending to gag at the food, me and Harry make eye contact and just shake our heads. I decide to walk into the kitchen area where Harry was peeling potatoes.

-          “I’ll help since I don’t want to wait too long for the food to be ready” I say with a smile.

-          “Thanks Y/N. but you’re the guest. I wanted me and Kimberley to show off our cooking skills.” He says.

-          “No worries. I’m just really hungry” I wash my hands and g straight to where the containers full of side dishes are and open it and put it in my mouth. “mmm, Harry. Your mom did a really good job at making these. This is delicious.” I then turn around and start washing the rice.

When Kimberley heard that, her eyes widened up. She looked like she messed up. No, she did mess up. She thought that I was the one that cooked for Harry, so she thought that it was okay for her to be rude. Childish.

Harry takes his phone out and makes a phone call. He orders a Pepperoni pizza. I already knew that the pizza wasn’t for me or him, we both hate pepperoni, so I knew he ordered it for Kimberley.

-          “P, why are you ordering pizza?” Kimberley says, confused.

-          “I ordered it for you, Kim. Since you don’t like my mom’s food, or Korean food.” Harry says with his head down, peeling the potatoes.

-          “No, that’s not what I meant.” She says with an apologetic voice.

Harry slams the potato peeler on the counter and looks up at her. He’s angry.

-          “then what did you mean?” he voiced, while being exasperated.

-          “I meant to say-“

-          “Oh, you meant to say that it’s because you don’t like my mom’s cooking? Said it because you don’t like Korean food, Korean culture or me being Korean? Or did you say it because you thought that Y/N cooked it?” Harry snaps with anger in his eyes.

-          “ I didn’t-“ Kimberley says silently.

-          “The pizza is coming soon anyway, so it’s not like I can cancel it. Just eat it when it comes.”

-          “Guys, that’s enough!” I eventually shout at them. “please stop this. It’s a happy evening, let’s not ruin the mood here now. Okay?” I say while looking at them both with a serious yet gentle expression. I lied, the evening was not great, neither was the day, but I just wanted everyone to get along.

20 minutes go bye in silence. Everybody seems to be upset, but me and Harry managed to complete our cooking amidst the silence. All I could do was just stand in the kitchen with my hands on my back, because of how awkward it was, while Harry set the table.

-          “Let’s eat, Y/N”

I noticed that Harry had only set the table for two. He completely ignored Kimberley.

-          “Kimberley, come eat.” I say, as the peace maker.

-          “Nah, she’s good” Harry says, while pouring me some water.

-          Are you sure Harry? Because-“

-          “Just eat Y/N. jal meoggessseubnida” He says before he starts eating.

15 minutes later, me and harry had finally finished eating. His mom did a great job with the food and so did Harry. It brought back memories on when we used to cook together and rate each other’s cooking skills. I missed it. Harry gets up to wash the plates, but I insist to wash them instead because the air was filled with awkwardness still and I just didn’t want to be involved. Harry didn’t want me to wash the plates because he keeps considering me as a guest, but in the end, he gave in.

A few minutes later, Harry’s phone rings. It’s the pizza man telling him to get the delivery from the garage downstairs. He puts his phone on his coffee table and puts on his hoody. Just as he is turning the door handle, Kimberley runs up to him.

-          “P, where are you going?” she says worriedly.

-          “Your pizza is here” he says while half ignoring her, face on the ground. “Y/N, Ill be right back.” He says while quickly glancing at me and then closing the door behind him.

Kimberley then goes to the coffee table and grabs Harry’s phone. She seemed like she was going through his phone, while muttering things under her breath. I finish washing the dishes and notice that there’s nothing for me to dry my hands with.

-          “Hey, Kimberley, do you know where Harry keeps his hand towels? I gently ask.

-          “Shut your mouth. You’re the reason why PH-1 is angry at me. How dare you try and act high and mighty in this house. I wish you never came here. Stupid bitch.”

-          “I beg your pardon?” I say, with confusion and shock written all over my face.

-          “You heard me, bitch. I said, I wish you never came here.”

-          “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been rude to me ever since I got here. Can we just get along, for Harry’s sake?”

-          “What if I don’t want to get along with you?” she says with a mean expression on her face.

Just as Kimberley is walking up to me, assuming to slap me, the keys unlock the door from the outside and Kimberley gets shocked and makes an extremely fast U-turn into Harry’s room. Leaving me standing in the living room area alone. Like an idiot. The door opens, Harry looks around the living room and kitchen area and sees no signs of Kimberley.

-          “Hey, where is she?” Harry asks, curiously, with a pizza box in his hands.

-          “She just rushed into your room.” I say, while being tired of the day, even though its only 8pm.

-          “Oh okay, thanks Y/N. Also, I’m sorry about my behaviour earlier. I- I- I just lost it at that moment.” Harry says with disappointment spread on his face.

-          “Hey, its okay, Harry. Go in there, she’s probably waiting for you” I say with a smile on my face.

-          “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a good friend” he says. Then quickly grabs his phone from the coffee table in the living room and heads to his bedroom.

Its been about an hour since Harry and Kimberley where in his room eating pizza. I got tired so I tried going into his roommate’s bedroom, but it had happened to be locked. I message Harry to ask him how about the sleeping arrangements, but my messages seem to not go through. 2 hours go by and Harry still wont answer his messages. I even call him and its also not going through. As much as I can’t stand Kimberley, I don’t want both herself and Harry to be arguing. So, I end up going to stand Infront of the bedroom, just to hear about what’s going on and I’m hearing giggling. I hear them both giggling because Harry is tickling Kimberley. I even hear Harry ask Kimberley for a kiss, and that’s when I knew that it was time for me to leave. Harry had left my bag on the couch, so I just took it, put on my coat and shoes, then I left. I just sat in my car because I didn’t know where to go and I was just thinking about today. Out of all the days that I have spent with Harry, this one has to be number 1 on the list for the worst. In fact, we barely spent time. Only time we “spent time was while we ate together. I was angry and I was also sad. “What did I do to this girl? Why can’t Harry see that she’s a bad person? Why is Harry making love to this girl why he’s left me all alone for 2 hours, in the living room? Why won’t he reply to my messages or calls? Why is he giving me mixed signs?” That was all that was running through my mind.

I search for hotels that are nearby the highway, that I will be taking to leave this city tomorrow. I find a good hotel and drive to it. I check in and sleep. I wake up the next day and check out. Still, there’s no reply and no calls from Harry. I sigh at the sight of my phone and I just drive off. The car ride home was horrible, it started pouring rain.

Is Harry ever going to text or call me back?

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[mistymark]

the one with all the ajax.

na jaemin x reader // 4.5k words // masterlist // send requests here

summary; in which y/n needs to clean her apartment and she finds a lot more than cleaning products in the apartment above her own

warnings: none its just fluff, they swear like twice

requested; no but u all requested jaemin so here's some jaemin !!

notes; this is a recreation of a Jimin fic I wrote,, so dont freak out if u recognise it,, I didn't steal it

“Yes, Mom, I know,” you spun in your chair mindlessly as you listened to your mother over the phone, the face of Ryan Reynolds frozen rather unattractively on your TV screen and your current course assignment staring blankly at you from your laptop. “Yes, of course I remembered! You wrote it on my calendar the last time you visited! Okay, Mom, I’ll see you tomorrow… tell Dad I said hi, okay? Okay, okay, yes, okay, uhuh, I know, okay, bye! I love you!”

Hanging up, you groaned, tossing your phone to the empty couch and glancing at your apartment. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes, the oven and stove looked as if they had been set on fire at least twice, the couch was littered in crumbs of food you’d ordered from takeout stores, and their wrappers, boxes and containers lay empty on the coffee table. Movies and video games were sprawled across the floor, your desk was buried in paper, and your bedroom floor was barely visible beneath the catastrophe that was your current wardrobe and the boxes you hadn’t bothered to unpack since your parents had last visited you. Generally, you considered yourself a rather clean and tidy person, but in the past few weeks leading up to exams and your assignments, you may have prioritized other things over your apartment’s cleanliness.

You glanced at the clock, calculating how much time you had to get your place in order before your parents visited. You had just under 22 hours, but subtracting time to sleep, eat, your afternoon class and your evening work shift… you had about two hours. You clapped your hands together, walking to your kitchen sink and opening the cupboard doors underneath it, planning on using all your cleaning supplies to make the job as easy as possible.

As you bent down and peered under the sink, you groaned in annoyance at the meagre remains of your cleaning supplies; a few tile wipes and a mostly empty bottle of dish soap, which, when you tipped it up, seemed solidly attached to the base of the bottle.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, praying your best friend loved you enough to help you in this time of distress, and dialled his number. After three rings and Yangyang’s voice letting out a cheery “leave me a message!”, you sighed and put your phone back down. It was at times like these that you wished you lived in one of the college’s normal dormitories, rather than a random apartment block two streets away; your neighbours were mostly disapproving elderly women or drunk, potbellied men in their 30s who would flirt with you in the elevator.

You grabbed your keys in preparation to make a quick dash to the store, before realising that there was one other option. The two boys who lived above you, from whom you had the honour of receiving brief smiles and polite ‘hello’s on the way to and from your apartment, sounded like they were home. Taking the stairs two at a time, you knocked eagerly on the door of the apartment above your own, smiling at the little fish-eyed hole in the door. You prayed your innocent, smiling figure would be taken pity on.

“It’s probably the pizza!” A muffled voice could be heard through the door, and you weren’t sure if it was from the thick door or from food being stuffed into the boy’s mouth that made it so difficult to understand.

The door opened abruptly, and a boy around your age blinked at you in surprise, before a lazy smile stretched across his face at the sight of you.

“Um, hi, I’m Y/n,” you hastily stated, waving awkwardly, “We haven’t officially met. I live in the apartment below you and I was wondering if I could borrow some cleaning supplies? It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Jaems! Who is it?” A deep voice called from within the apartment, and you recognised it as the boy who had yelled about the pizza delivery beforehand.

The boy in front of you – Jaems – raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded as he stepped aside slightly. “Yeah, um, okay,” he quickly turned to face his apartment, gesturing to the inside, where two other boys were situated on the couch in front of the TV. “I’m, uh, Jaemin. Come in, come in. This is Jeno and Donghyuck; Jeno’s my roommate and Donghyuck doesn’t actually live here, but he’s the one that makes the most noise.”

“Hey!” One of the boys on the couch, presumably Donghyuck, threw a potato chip at Jaemin, and you could hear Jeno scolding him as you shifted your attention back to the boy in front of you.

Jaemin walked towards the kitchen and you followed, noticing, rather abruptly, that the apartment you were standing in was pretty much exactly like your own. The layout was the same, and though the decorations and the furniture were different to yours, they were arranged very similarly. The boys on the couch, Jeno and Donghyuck, were so focussed on their game that they didn’t even look at you, shouting to Jaemin to bring them more snacks.

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the emergency that requires all these cleaning supplies?” Jaemin opens a cupboard in the kitchen, revealing a much more sensible-looking collection of spray bottles, wipes, paper towels and bottles. Jaemin gestures to them dismissively, in a take-whatever-you-need way.

You smile gratefully at him as you squat down and begin to rummage through the collection. “Well,” you speak into the cupboard as he leans against the kitchen counter casually, “my parents are coming to visit me tomorrow morning, and, um, I guess you could say my apartment doesn’t exactly entice guests at the moment.” You look over your shoulder at him, and you can see that he has a very amused smirk on his face, and the way he looks at you suddenly makes you feel as though you’ve been friends for a while, or at least properly met before.

“I’ve seen you around,” he states, as if he’s just been able to place you. “Mail room and stuff.”

“You were at the New Year’s Eve Party next door, right?” You ask, remembering seeing him on the roof of the building next door, where the residents threw parties on the roof at every opportunity. You were almost certain he was there.

He laughed, “Oh yeah! Didn’t someone try to jump into the pool?”

“Nah, they got him down in the end. He was way too drunk to think straight.” You look back at him briefly, and you notice the way his eyebrows are furrowed slightly in thought.

Satisfied, you stand up, your arms filled with the equipment you’re positive you’ll need and smile at him thankfully, “Again, thank you so much for this, I feel like our first proper meeting should have been a little bit more traditional and I promise I don’t normally ask strangers for favours.” You laugh and you’re glad he does, too, before he raises an eyebrow at the number of things you’re holding.

“Okay, I have to see how messy your apartment is for you to need two – wait, no, three bottles of Ajax,” he snorts, counting out loud the number of other things you have in your arms.

Without realising he’s teasing you, you reassure him, “I promise I’ll replace everything in a few days, I just really needed these before tomorrow and I didn’t want to waste time running - literally running, I don’t have a car - to the store.”

He waves his hand at you, smiling good-naturedly. His smile felt reassuring and you felt yourself smiling back, “No, no, don’t worry about it. The only payment I require is seeing this apartment.” He pushes past you into the hallway, outstretching his arm to hold the door open for you.

As you both trot down the stairs, you nudge him with your elbow, “So, why do you have so many cleaning supplies, anyway? Who’s the neat freak?”

Instantly, his smile drops slightly and you realise your mistake. Hurriedly, you try to cover yourself, “I just mean, who’s the one that clea-”

His laugh cuts you off and you realise he was only teasing you, “You should’ve seen your face, oh, God,” he continues to laugh. “No, one of the counsellors, like those ‘big-brother’ students at our college - do you have one? - his name is Taeyong, he’s a real… neat freak, as you put it.” He glances at you from the corner of his eye to watch as you make yourself smaller, blushing, ashamed. The tiniest of smiles crosses his face as he shoves his hands into his pockets and continues, “Anyway, after our first year was over, and the program ended, he made us buy like ten bottles of everything so we wouldn’t run out and just never buy them again.”

You laughed, “Aw, that’s sweet.” As you arrived at your doorstep, you turned on him, lowering your voice in what you hoped to be a morbidly warning voice, “Okay, I’m warning you, what you’re about to see will most likely disturb you. Enter at your own risk.” You unlocked the door and walked into your apartment, dumping your weapons on the table and turning around slowly, attempting to figure out the most strategic attack.

You heard Jaemin gasp in shock and then begin to laugh so hard that he fell to the floor, “Y-you said that it was r-really bad but I,” he laughed between most of his words and what he said came out in gasps, “I didn’t think it would be this bad! Y/n, you’re really screwed.” He walked to the kitchen and picked up a half-eaten apple and what looked to be a hairy potato on a paper plate, “Forget cleaning supplies, you need a dump truck, holy shit.”

You pouted at him, “Hey, I have over an hour to make this place spotless! I’ll be fine!” You began to put on a pair of rubber gloves you had taken from Jaemin’s apartment and remove all the filthy dishes from the sink to fill it with hot water. “I really do appreciate you letting me borrow all this, and I promise to return and replace everything.”

You heard rubber gloves snapping behind you and you turned around to see Jaemin pulling another pair on, grabbing the dishwasher fluid and tossing it to you. “There is no way that you are going to be able to clean this mess in an hour, so I’m going to help you. But, I need to arm myself first.” You let out a laugh as he grabbed an apron from beside your fridge that read ‘kiss the cook’ in pink stitching, tugging the rubber gloves further down his hands and placing a mask over his nose and mouth, before quickly ditching the latter.

“Do you want a shower cap, too?” You teased, pointing a clean knife at him from your spot by the sink.

“Do you have one?” He answered, his eyes wide in mock hope, pausing what he was doing: trying to get the apron’s straps to loosen around his neck, before tying it behind his slim waist. With his waist accentuated, you couldn’t help but notice the perfect shape of his body, that you had gone unnoticed as it was hidden by the white t-shirt he was wearing.

In response, you stuck your tongue out at him in an all-too-mature way, before straightening, “Seriously, you don’t have to do this. I mean, we did just meet like… ten minutes ago.”

He shrugged as he pulled out a bin bag from your haul on the counter, “What better way to get to know the cute next door neighbour?” You stopped washing for a moment and you were glad that you weren’t facing him, for you were fairly sure the blush on your cheeks was rather obvious. Besides, he could be talking about you getting to know him, not the other way round.

He began to walk around your apartment, firstly binning your apple, furry potato and plate, then the takeout boxes, and the leftover banana peel on your desk. He hung the bag off a chair for future use and then appeared beside you again, mindlessly tapping on the counter as he spoke, “So what’re your parents like?”

As you continued to clean, he grabbed a rag from somewhere in the kitchen and began drying your dishes. “Well, you know, they’re parents,” you shrugged, “I guess we’ve always been kind of close, I miss them like crazy now that I’ve moved out, even if I hated living with them. They’re kind of strict, real neat freaks,” you glanced sideways at him and caught the left side of his mouth hitching up in a smile, “but, I mean, they’re my parents and I love them. They worry about me sometimes,” you gestured around the room, “but I guess it’s warranted.”

You laughed with him, and he looked at you quickly before focusing back down on the plate, asking about what you were studying and the conversation quickly drifting to your hobbies, places you’d visited, things you still wanted to do… Conversation with Jaemin was easy and simple, and you hoped this wasn’t going to be the last time you saw him.

You passed him a bowl and turned to him, grinning, as you allowed the dirty water to run from the sink down the drain, having finally finished the dishes, “We should put on music. Make this a little more fun, you know?”

He pouted jokingly as he dried the bowl, “You’re not having fun?”

You laughed as you hit his chest lightly and walked over to the small speaker buried under piles of paper and bills on the small side table by your front door, and then dancing over to Jaemin in the kitchen. He laughed at your dorky dance moves, throwing his head back as he put the bowl down and joined you, swivelling his hips and squatting awkwardly as he danced.

You continued dancing as you finished the job; he danced as he wiped down your counter, you danced as you put the freshly dried dishes away, he danced as he vacuumed your couch of all the crumbs, and you danced as you put all the movies away underneath the TV. You learned he was actually a really good dancer, and it made you feel a little bit more nervous and self-conscious, until he started to bust out his own choreography, making you laugh until your insides hurt.

You made him take a break and offered him a drink, telling him to help himself to anything in the fridge as you quickly tidied your bathroom.

“Oh my God, Y/n!”

You quickly rushed into the main room and found Jaemin staring into your fridge, “What? What is it?”

He turned to face you, a look of amused bewilderment on his face, “You have nothing in your fridge but mustard, pickles and coconut water! How are you even alive right now?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you teasingly.

You rolled your eyes and retreated back into the bathroom to wipe down the now almost empty counter, making a comment about how you were doing perfectly fine surviving off of ramen and takeout, before Jaemin appeared in the doorway, “Seriously, though, if your parents see that, they’re really going to worry about you. Come on, we’ve got half an hour left, we’ll go to the supermarket, get a bunch of food to stock your fridge and then you can go to class.”

You sighed as you looked around at your bathroom, “I still have to wipe down all the windows and the shower, and my room is still a bit of a mess…”

He looked around, “If we’re quick, we’ll have enough time to wipe everything down. Your room… you can probably get away with that if everything else is tidy. I mean, your parents wont be going in there anyway, right? Come on.” He held out his hand and smiled as you pulled off your gloves to grab it.

He tugged your arm, attempting to pull you out of the bathroom, but he miscalculated where exactly the wall was and ended up slamming his back into the wall and pulling you into him, causing you to stumble and crash against him. You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you looked at his shocked face; his eyes were wide in surprise but you didn’t miss the small smile he had tugging at the left side of his mouth.

You couldn’t move as he held your gaze, and you watched as his eyes briefly glanced down to your lips before he turned his head to the sink mirror, “Um, should we get going?”

You felt your free hand clench into a fist in an invisible cringe and you looked down, noticing how close your bodies were, “Y-yeah, we probably should.”

You stepped back and went to grab your keys and purse, purposely keeping your back to him. You scolded yourself for even thinking about kissing him. Despite his attractiveness, intelligence, kindness and humour, you couldn’t let yourself get involved with someone you had just met, though it felt like you’d grown quite fond of each other in the past two hours.

He walked by your side to the store a few streets away and grabbed a trolley, guiding you to the fruits and vegetables section. You groaned and followed him. As he was picking from the apples, he glanced upwards to look at you, standing on the other side of the fruit boxes, puffing your cheeks out in boredom. He quickly returned his gaze to the fruit, his face a darker shade of pink, his ears burning a bright red.

You began walking around the vegetables section, before noticing the cookies in the aisle beside them. I mean, who was going to pass up the opportunity to buy cookies? Certainly not you.

From between the shelves, you had a perfect view of Jaemin, and for the first time since you’d been introduced, you allowed yourself to stare. Am I being really creepy right now?you thought, holding a box of Oreos. It’s warranted, you assured yourself. I mean, look at him.You watched him look up from the next box of fruit, pears, and a look of surprise crossed his face as he realised you weren’t standing across from him.

He turned around, scanning the area for you, before placing the pears into the trolley, and then pushing it towards your aisle. You quickly ducked and walked speedily to the other end of the aisle, laughing to yourself as you childishly ran from him.

Jaemin immediately recognised your coat disappearing behind the corner of the shelves, and a grin instantly broke out on his face as he ran down the aisle, pushing himself up and over the trolley in pursuit, gliding easily down the aisle. You thought he hadn’t seen you, and you stood at the end of the aisle, carefully leaning forward to peer into the fresh produce section, assuming he’d come from that direction. You jumped in surprise as a trolley rolled up to you, “Hey, stranger, you need help looking for something?”

You turned around, a smile covering your face shyly and you briefly recognised how attractive he looked at that moment, an eyebrow lifted in playful challenge and a beautiful smirk, his eyes slightly creasing at the corners and the black jacket he’d grabbed from his apartment before you’d left. You weren’t going to lie, that jacket was a very nice jacket; it made his shoulders look broad and accentuated his slightly thinner-than-expected waist.

You shrugged playfully, “I don’t know, where do they keep all the… what’re they called? Oh, that’s right, notfruitandvegetables?”

He laughed, his head dropping down in mock disappointment as he walked down the aisle with you, dismissing all the things your parents were more likely to disapprove of, or just any parents really. “Really, Y/n, I don’t think they’d be ecstatic over seven boxes of Oreos.”

“BUT THEY’RE ALL DIFFERENT FLAVOURS,” you protested, before mumbling, “and besides, shouldn’t I at least be buying food I can actually eat?”

He cracked a grin at that, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you took over the trolley, “Aw, poor Y/n, can’t buy all the flavours.” He pouted at you and he poked your cheek with a grin. “But…” he began, “I’m sure one box couldnt hurt, right?”

The next day you were bombarded with your parents an hour earlier than expected, but luckily you were only making a few final adjustments to the cleanliness of your bedroom when they arrived.

You spent the day with your parents, showcasing your apartment, assuring them you were eating and washing When you left for lunch, you realised you forgot to bring your father’s birthday gift with you, and quickly ducked back upstairs to retrieve it. On your way down the stairs, rushing to catch up with your parents, you passed Jaemin and Jeno on their way up, bags of groceries in their arms, determination on their faces as they tried to carry all their groceries at once in order to not waste another trip up and down the multiple flights of stairs.

Jaemin winked at you as you passed, and you managed to catch up to your parents quickly. “I didn’t know there were other students living in your building, Y/n,” you mother commented, sliding her sunglasses up her nose as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

“They’re new,” you stated. “They’ve only been here for a couple of months, I think.”

“The tall one is pretty cute,” she nudged you with her elbow, teasing you.

“Sure, Mom. Jeno is ‘pretty cute’,” you rolled your eyes at her, sliding into the Uber you’d ordered.

She looked surprised at your tone, “What? You don’t agree.” She hesitated, before a wry smile made its way onto her face, “Ah, I see. You like the other one. What’s his name?”

“Jaemin,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling like you were twelve years old and not an adult, currently living away from home.

You waved to your parents from the door to your apartment block as they got in the taxi. You crossed your arms in front of yourself and watched as the car disappeared behind a corner.

After checking you had your wallet in your pocket, you made your way to the supermarket, a small smile on your face as you remembered walking the same way just the day before, but with Jaemin. Quickly grabbing a few products you remember having stolen and used from the boys’ apartment, you paid and made your way back home.

You ran up the stairs to your apartment, stopping briefly at your apartment to return your purse and wallet, before turning back to the staircase and moving to the floor above, grocery bag filled with cleaning supplies. You knocked on the door quietly, wondering if he even expected you to repay him for his things.

You prepared yourself, feeling your heart beating heavily against your chest, and heard the identifiable click of the lock on the door sliding out from its cradle on the doorframe. The door opened about halfway and you tried not to let your breath escape defeatedly. Jeno stood in the doorway, smiling in welcome.

“Hey, Y/n,” he greeted happily, controller in hand. “Jaemin’s in his room.” He nodded his head in the direction of the younger boy’s bedroom and opened the door a little wider to allow you in. He went back to the couch in the living room, where Donghyuck and another boy sat, patiently waiting for Jeno’s return with their controllers, whatever game they had been playing was paused. Donghyuck raised his hand in greeting and the other boy shot you a smile as you passed. “Thanks for those, by the way,” Jeno jutted his chin out at the bag of cleaning supplies that you haphazardly placed on the kitchen counter as he sat down on the couch again, reaching for the remote on the table in front of him.

You nodded at them and walked to Jaemin’s room, the only door that was closed in the tiny hallway. You knocked, sucking in a breath.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll be out in a sec! Just start without me,” Jaemin called from behind the door.

You coughed awkwardly, “Um, no, it’s, uh, me. Y/n.” In your mind, you were facepalming yourself, but part of you began to panic because what the fuck were you going to say to him? Why didn’t you just dump the products and leave? Or send a note? Why were you showing up at his bedroom door?

The door opened abruptly and you stood face-to-chest with Jaemin. Your eyes widened as you were met with his bare chest and you quickly shifted your gaze up to look at his face, which proved to be a feat a lot more difficult than it sounds.

“Hey,” he breathed, his arm still holding the door open. He stared at you and it was if he could see inside you, scrutinising every little part of your face, reading your mind.

You rocked back and forth on your heels, your smile rather awkward, “Hi.” You watched in slight awe as the corners of his mouth lifted up. A mere reaction that had your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcage.

“Um-,” you were immediately cut off as his head ducked down to kiss you, his lips pressing against yours suddenly. His hands found their to your sides as your arms lifted up to rest on his shoulders. You prayed he couldn’t hear your heart hammering in your chest as you smiled into the kiss.

When he pulled back, you didn’t take your arms away from around his neck, but he didn’t seem to mind, grinning back at you and then dropping his head to laugh to himself. For a moment, you were worried that this had all been some kind of joke and you felt your stomach drop in shame and embarrassment. You began to retract your arms, but his hands caught yours and placed them back on his shoulders, smiling at you widely, “I’ve wanted to do that since New Year’s.”

You cocked your head in confusion, so he cleared his throat, clarifying, “We bumped into each other on the roof, right when the countdown had just begun, and we’d been talking for a bit, so I kind of wanted to kiss you.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah. But you were a little drunk, so obviously I-“

“No,” you grabbed his hand in yours, trying to get his attention and make him look at you. “Were you really going to kiss me? I think you should prove it.” You cocked an eyebrow at him challengingly.

“Oh, really?” He teased, pulling his head back a bit to look at you fully. You noticed him look over your head at something behind you, before rolling his eyes, grabbing your hand and tugging you into his room, shutting the door behind you.

[dontworrysunflower]

Scariest Thing | Shawn Mendes

(Not my gif)

Masterlist in my bio

•••

“Bye honey! I’ll see you later” he yelled as he closed the door of their apartment. He lets out a shaky exhale and pats his pockets to make sure he had a sample ring and his other essentials. But the ring was really important.

He starts his Jeep and reverses out of his parking spot and drives to the studio. As he stops at a red light, he pats his thigh again, feeling the roundness of the ring. He sighs again and leans his head on the steering wheel, closing his eyes.

The horn from the car behind him springs him back up and he steps on the gas pedal. He rakes a hand into his hair and adjusts the seat belt on his shoulder as he turns into the studio parking lot.

“Hey man, I know you’re probably anxious to go to the jeweler, so we can work here for let’s say uh,” Andrew starts, turning his wrist around to look at his watch. “An hour, if that’s okay” he trails off, his text message suddenly more interesting than Shawn’s problem.

Shawn hums, taking off his denim jacket and throwing away the empty paper coffee cup.

He doesn’t really acknowledge anyone while he records, his mind only on his jeweler appointment and how he’s going to do the scariest thing in his life. “Okay Shawn, that’s good for today” Teddy announces over the intercom in the booth. Shawn is quick to rip the headphones off his head, running his fingers through his matted hair for volume. He pulls his arms through his jacket and mumbles a goodbye to everyone as he runs out the studio and turns on the engine of his Jeep.

“Hey Shawn, it’s (y/n). I’m calling just to see how your doing but I guess you’re busy at the studio. Uh, call me when you can. Alright, uh love you, bye” he replayed the voicemail on his phone before opening the door of the jewelry store, the air of the ventilation systems blowing in his face.

“Uh, hi. I’m here for an engagement ring,” Shawn breathed out as he watched the girl behind the counter widen her eyes, obviously figuring out who he is, and type something into the computer. He leans over the counter, his hand got against the cool glass of the display case “and please don’t tell anyone I was here” he whispered with a small smile on his lips.

The woman grins and nods slightly at him “I’m sure the person who’s receiving this is very lucky”

He can only smile, not sure what to say to that. It’s clear that he’s nervous. His fingers fidgeting against the display case. His eyes following the moves of the people around him, seeing some of them recognize him. He clicks on and off his phone every other second, looking at the screen of no messages or calls from her.

“Okay, you wanted a private meeting with Mr. Stein right?” She said, her eyes flying across the computer screen. Shawn nods and then is lead to a room behind the counter.

•••

“The ring is beautiful Mr. Mendes, she’s going to love it” the older man said as he pat Shawn on the back on their way to the door, a large bulge in Shawn’s front pocket.

“Thank you so much, this means the world to me” Shawn smiles as he said his goodbyes to the man and walked to his car.

He turns his phone on to see he missed a text from her.

Hey, I’m at work right now but call me when you get the chance ❤️

His chest rises as he takes in a deep breath and starts to type.

On my way home luv u

He waits for the swoosh before turning the key in the egnition and the car roars to life, the hot air coming out the vents warming his pink skin.

•••

“Shawn, I’m home” she trails off as she opens the door to the lights off, lit candles and rose petals leading the way to their balcony. She toes off her heels and leaves her purse on the kitchen counter before walking her way to the sliding glass doors, wrapping a throw blanket from the couch around her shoulders. She gasps as the cool Toronto air fans her cheeks, blowing the few stubborn strands of hair out of her face.

She takes in the sight of her glorious boyfriend, standing in slick black slacks and a crisp white button down, his chocolate curls dancing in the wind. She sees the golden aura around him from the sun setting, bringing a beautiful intimacy to the situation. “What is this? Shawn?” She asks as she turns around, looking at the fairy lights draped over the glass doors, the candles on the table giving a vanilla scent into the air. Your voice startled him, his curls bob at the unexpected movement, his head turning around to face you. His smile spreads to his eyes as he looks at you. He walks up to you, his arms stretched out, his hands open for you to take. His hands envelop yours as he kisses you and greets you, asking how your day was. Before you can question anything, he pulls you into a hug and you sway to the music playing in his head.

“I called. Was everything okay?” You mumbled against his chest. He wraps your hair around his fingers, playing with the ends. His chest rises as he chuckled and softly kisses your forehead.

“Was fine. Just got caught up. Sorry I didn’t answer your calls” he whispered.

You shake your head against his body. “S’okay. Was jus’ a little worried. Can I ask, what is all of this for?” You brought up, suddenly remembering the romantic scenery he created.

He shrugs, his eyes not meeting yours “Wanted to show you how much you mean to me” he said before pulling your body away from his and spinning you around, the blanket that was laying on your shoulders falling to the floor. You look over his shoulder, two plates piled with food on either end, two glasses of wine and a candle glowing in the middle of the table call your attention.

“You made food?” You emphasized. Over the past year if you two living together, he only tried cooking once. That one time he left the bread in the oven too long that the smoke was pitch black, and you had to stay in his childhood bedroom that night until the landlord of the complex had someone clean it up. He refuses to cook nonetheless.

He laughs, his shoulders bouncing. “And I didn’t burn the house down, aren’t you proud of me?” He says with a proud grin on his face, his tattooed hand over his heart.

You place your smaller hand on his and pat it before making your way to the table “Very. Lets see if the food is edible”

•••

“You really didn’t have to do all this” You murmured as you watched him place the dirty dishes in the sink, the sleeves of his button up scrunched up around his elbows, his guitar tattoo - your favorite tattoo- on full display.

He sighs shakily, his hands making uneasy motions around the plates.

He’s nervous

He dries his hands with a towel and turns to you, a small anxious smile on his lips. He moves in front of you, his hands on your thighs, warming you up before his left hand fishes something out of his back pocket.

Before you can ask, he’s down on one knee, a beautiful diamond ring perched in between a velvet fabric. Your eyes brim with tears and you gasp.

“(Y/n), I know this is probably the most cliche thing to say but when I first met you, I knew you were the one. I was so confident about it that I was tempted to buy you a ring then and there. But I didn’t, because I realized I needed you at least call you my girlfriend before I can call you anything else. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you may say music was, but this, you are so much better than that. Even though you would never let me, I would give up music for you in a heartbeat. I’ve thought of this moment for so long, and I know that what I’m doing right now is right. I want to marry you, call you my wife, god, has such a nice ring to it, pun intended. I want to call you the mother of my children. Because that’s what I want. I could live without the fame and the music, but I could never live without you. This is my dream. Would you please make that dream come true, and marry me? Maybe?” He rambled nervously, his fingers drumming against the velvet box in his hands.

Your both sobbing, tears streaming down both of your faces before you get out of your seat and kneel in front of him, the light reflecting off the diamonds blinding you. You look up at his eyes and you all can do is nod before he’s smothering you in kisses and you cry into each other’s arms. He lets go of you only to slide the ring out of the box and onto your fourth finger on your left hand.

You hold onto his cheeks, wet and red from the tears and you kiss him. Your fiancé. “I love you” you mumble against his moist lips before he repeats it and kisses your wet cheeks.

You’re getting married

I love this! I actually started crying myself. Okay I gotta go to bed but pls enjoy and reblog I’d really appreciate it. Oh, and thx for all the love on ‘Warm’. <3

[theawkwardterrier]

things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 11

AO3 link here

Shelby Peterson’s family has been to Disneyland and Disney World, which means she has been on an airplane four whole times. Shelby Peterson has taken pictures with Mickey, Minnie, Pooh Bear, and all seven of the dwarves. Shelby Peterson’s favorite rides is the Rocket Jets, but she likes the Alice in Wonderland teacups too because sometimes they spin so much that her little sister throws up. Shelby Peterson thinks that the Swiss Family Treehouse is so boring that she considered writing to the people at Disney Studios to tell them to come up with something better. Shelby Peterson thinks it’s a real shame that not everyone can experience the most magical place on Earth.

Steve hates Shelby Peterson.

He knows she’s a fifth grader and he knows he’s never met her, but if Nate brings even the specter of her into the house again, Steve’s banning her name.

It’s only because it’s Nate that he hasn’t already. He doesn’t say any of it in a wheedling way, or faux casually while peering up through his eyelashes to see how the information is landing. He doesn’t put it forward as if demanding anything. He drops the comments randomly - after spitting toothpaste into the sink, as he pulls out his math folder in the afternoon, when he asks if the peaches on the backyard tree are still too hard to eat - as if they are always turning over in his mind. His words are always simple and considered, the way Nate is, but there’s a jealousy there, a deep longing that makes Steve’s own brain start working.

“Have you thought about what you want to do with your vacation this year?” he asks Peggy. They have made sure over the past few years that Peggy takes at least two weeks off from carrying too much of the world on her shoulders. “I thought this summer might be a good time to take a trip. Rosie’s going to be starting college in the fall, Drea’s had a pretty tough year, and where have our kids gone in their lives? Brooklyn, up to Howard’s place in Maine, a little time at the beach here and there?”

They stand side by side at the kitchen sink - it’s one of their nights to do the dishes. Steve’s wedding ring (the replacement, which he’s grown quite fond of in its own right) sits on the countertop as he scrubs and rinses a frying pan then hands it to Peggy to dry. She circles the towel over it with an amused expression.

“Is this about Shelby Peterson?” she asks indulgently, slotting the pan into the rack. “Have you finally been convinced to experience Mr. Disney’s dreamland despite the expense?”

Steve finishes the last of the cutlery and hands it off to her, letting the scummy water circle down the drain. “Not exactly,” he says. “But if you can free up some time in August, I thought we might experience something else.”

They shuffle the kids out of bed at 6 AM, dressed in sweaters and comfortable clothing for the car and carrying their own pillows and blankets. The station wagon was packed the night before, its spacious trunk filled with suitcases, and once everyone is tucked in and already dozing again, they set off.

Peggy squeezes Steve’s hand and leans to take a catnap herself. The sun rising behind them, Steve pulls out of the driveway. As they move easily through quiet, empty streets, Steve looks in the rearview at his sleepy family. When he takes the time to consider it, when he isn’t caught up in the day-to-day routine of it all, there’s a strangely tinged sweetness in looking at them. They are the loves of a life he nearly didn’t have, and he is so grateful that he has had the opportunity to know them and be loved by them, for them to know and love each other.

He smiles to himself: he has no idea why Peggy thought this would be a rough trip.

By 9 AM everyone is up again and clamoring for breakfast.

By 10, they’re returning to the car following a nasty fight in the diner between Rose and Drea over whether they should both get pancakes or if one of them should get French toast (Rose: “It makes sense to have one of each! Then we can trade, a taste for a taste.” Drea: “You wouldn’t stop at just a taste! You’d probably eat all of yours and half of mine!”).

By 11, everyone is stewing in the aftermath of the argument between Nate and Drea as they’d returned to the car (Drea: “You can’t have that seat - you know we’re supposed to trade, plus I had dibs on that one and you know I get nauseous.” Nate: “The first part of the ride was short! Trades only count when it’s been hours. And we all know you’re faking because you just don’t like the back.”) and another between - surprisingly - Rose and Emma because Rosie refused to root around under the seats for Em’s sky blue colored pencil (Emma: “But you have the longest arms! They’re so long, it will be easy for you.” Rose: “I’m sorry, my weird long arms are busy.”)

Steve refuses to look over at Peggy, even as they stop for bathrooms, gas, and lunch around 1.

They divide into a kids’ room and a parents’ room at the motel in Indianapolis that night. Through the wall, Steve can hear the four of them bickering about who should have to share beds with who.

“I have no idea whether or not Rosie’s snoring is the equivalent of Nate’s kicking, but if they don’t go to sleep soon I don’t know that it will matter,” Peggy mumbles.

“If they’re tired out, it might make things easier tomorrow,” Steve suggests.

“I’m not certain that you’re in a place to comment,” she tells him, and rolls over to go to sleep.

Peggy takes the first driving shift the next morning, outfitting herself with sunglasses and a determined expression. They’re supposed to make it to Missouri by tonight.

“You look great today,” Steve tries about ten minutes down the highway, but Peggy just raises a waspish eyebrow at him and puts her foot to the gas. He sighs and tries to find a comfortable way to stretch his legs as he takes out his book.

The kids are following his example in the back, having each apparently elected to give the silent treatment to the rest. He isn’t sure how effective it is when they’re all doing it, but at least it’s quiet. Quiet enough that with the road whizzing beneath them and the scenery blurring outside, Steve actually falls asleep.

When he wakes up, Peggy is saying sternly, “No dirty words, Rose,” and Rosie is replying back, “I just said that we should look for signs that have the letters F and U in them! We’ve gone through the whole alphabet already, we have to move on to combinations. It’s just logic.”

“I can do without that logic,” Steve tells her, straightening in his seat and clearing his throat. “Your mother’s right, pick something else.”

“Hello, again,” Peggy says to him as he scrubs his fingers over his eyes to clear them. Behind them, the kids are reminding each other of the rules for Twenty Questions.

“Hey.” He smiles over at her. “I didn’t think I’d slept that long. Are these our same kids from this morning?”

“They are, they’ve simply remembered that they actually like one another.”

“Mom, Emma says that Drea’s pushing on the back of her seat!”

“That’s what happens when I’m all the way back here! My legs need somewhere to go.”

“Well, they like each other most of the time,” Steve says, and points to an awning beside the road proclaiming Dolly’s, the smaller print below reading Hamburgers, Floats, Fries. “And they’ll probably like each other more after lunch.”

Their motel that night has a pool, and the fact that none of the kids beg for a swim before bed should probably be a tipoff that something is up. Steve is still awake and reading at 11 when there’s a splash outside the window. He brushes back the curtain and stretches up as much as he can from his position sitting up against the wall. Rosie and Drea have already jumped in, and Nate is climbing down the ladder. Emma seems content to simply dangle her feet, at least for now.

“Are you going to tell them off?” Peggy mumbles into his shirt from where she’s dozing on his shoulder.

“Nah.” Steve closes his book and puts it on the bedside table. He leans over and rests his face into Peggy’s hair for a moment. “Hey, Peg,” he finally says, kissing the top of her head with his eyes closed. “You brought a swimsuit too, didn’t you?”

The night manager comes out at half past midnight to grumble at them that the pool’s closed, and when they go to check out, a charge has been added to their bill for a noise violation. Steve’s about ready to argue that he isn’t paying for any made up fine, but then he watches Nate and Emma guarding the luggage in the corner, interrupting each other with eagerness as they recall the underwater somersault contest they had with Peggy the night before.

He pays the charge.

They drive past a sign advertising a local square dance in one of towns near the border of Oklahoma, and even though they’re meant to just be driving through, the kids want to see it badly enough that they while away the rest of the day and put together the most appropriate outfits they can find from what remains in their suitcases.

It’s too intimidating for the kids to actually participate. Even Rose, who is usually difficult to embarrass, doesn’t attempt a venture into the fast paced synchronicity in front of her. But they enjoy themselves anyway, clapping along to the beat that echoes from the huge tent which has been set up, trying to translate the unfamiliar language of the dance for Emma, and appreciating the energy of the caller, a grinning, red-faced man whose enthusiasm only increases as the evening goes on, until he’s ending each number with a bellowed “Yeehaw, it’s done!”

For the rest of the trip, whenever something is completed - a meal or a book, the drive through another state - it will be inevitably and solemnly announced, “Yeehaw, it’s done.”

The plan had been to have arrived in time to celebrate Nate’s birthday, but the stop in Oklahoma puts them a bit off. They end up in a joint called Elmer’s for his celebratory dinner, which Steve doesn’t think looks particularly promising, until he meets Myra, the brains behind the operation.

She doesn’t even let them order, just brings out family sized dishes of lasagna and garlic bread and some kind of broccoli dish that all the kids actually eat. When they mention that it’s Nate’s birthday, she nods solemnly and asks how old he is. The cake, topped with eleven candles plus one to grow on, arrives at the end of the meal, so enormous that Myra has to balance it on both arms.

“How did you know what kind I wanted?” Nate asks her, wide-eyed, as they get ready to go. “No one ever guesses that I like white frosting but chocolate cake inside.”

Myra taps the side of her nose. “Restaurant owner secret.”

(Emma won’t leave until Myra’s given up her lasagna recipe, even though she and Steve have been perfecting their own for years.)

“If we’re just going to find a place for the night,” Rosie asks slyly as they return to the car, “why don’t I drive?”

“No,” Steve says firmly, only to find himself echoed by everyone else. Rose is a maniac driver. He’d tried to give her a couple of lessons but couldn’t concentrate on advice when he was consistently formulating strategies for evasive maneuvers - he was certainly getting older, but he could probably still get the two of them out if it came to it. It is common family wisdom that she’d only been licensed to drive because the examiner had interpreted her handling of the test course as a direct threat on his life.

Keeping a tight grip on the keys, Steve says, “I’m actually in the mood to drive a little more. You all go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when I find somewhere to stop.”

He turns off of I-40 around 5 AM. The sun is just beginning to trickle up the horizon. He leans over and runs his fingers over Peggy’s cheek.

“Are we there?” she asks, her voice soft and sleepy. She blinks a few times, slow, groggy, barely opening her eyes, and stretches a bit. “Have you accomplished your latest bullheaded idea?”

“Almost. Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”

“I always will,” she says. “You know that.”

He drives the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel, the other hand holding hers.

They don’t quite make it before sunrise, but that’s alright. There isn’t anyone much there: it’s chilly, a Monday morning. The kids bundle themselves up in their blankets as they stumble from the car. They are still in their clothes from dinner last night.

They stand together on the rim of the Canyon, looking out.

“This is it,” Steve signs when no one says anything first. He wonders if they’re regretting letting themselves get dragged all the way across the country. Maybe this isn’t enough for them the way he had thought it would be.

Then Drea says, “The world is so big.” For once she does not stretch the sign to exaggeration; it is held against her chest in wonder, a whisper. She looks up at him. “Dad, did you know the world is so big?”

He smiles down at her. “I had a bit of an idea.”

They start to drive back at night after two days at and around the Grand Canyon. It’s the only way Mom is going to get back in time for her to start work again, and everyone still has to go back-to-school shopping.

“At least you let us prepare this time,” Rosie grumps as they climb into the car. “No one likes sleeping in their jeans, Dad.”

Dad just kisses the top of her head and says, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nate, like all his siblings, falls asleep pretty easily on car rides. But he wakes up a little while later and isn’t sure why. It’s really dark out, even darker than at home, and the stars look pretty from where his head is leaning by the window. Mom and Dad are talking softly up front. He likes when they do that. It makes him feel safe.

“I’ve been thinking,” Mom says. “It seems to me that once the cost of the various food and lodgings, the gas and souvenirs and all the rest have been tallied up, a trip to Orlando might have been more cost effective.”

“Maybe,” says Dad. “But wasn’t this worth it?”

“Hmm,” says Mom in that smiling way she does when Dad makes a good point. “I suppose it was.”

Nate remembers doing handclaps across the car seat with Emma until his palms were sore and they declared themselves world champions, making Rosie laugh until she’d almost peed in the pool, trying to remember the square dance steps with Drea even though he was too short and she was too tall and they kept tripping over each other. He remembers his birthday cake. He remembers Mom leaning over to Dad that first day at the Canyon and asking very quietly, “You really never saw it before? In all that time?” and the way he’d replied, “No. I guess I was waiting to see it with all of you,” and how Nate had felt all lit up inside from hearing that.

Worth it, Nate thinks drowsily, and closes his eyes again as Dad drives them steadily through the dark.

He’ll have plenty of stories of his own to tell Shelby Peterson when sixth grade starts.

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (2/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one. 

Rating will be explicit in later chapters. This chapter 4k words. (ao3)

(Chapter 1)

________________________________

Chapter 2

The cardboard tray of chicken enchiladas was barely visible through the dirty microwave door, spinning slowly as it defrosted. Patrick Brewer stood and watched the little digital numbers counting down. When the microwave dinged, he used some paper towels as an oven mitt to pull his lunch out, picking up his refilled water bottle in the other hand to take both back to his office.

“You could eat your lunch here, you know. You don’t have to go hide in your office.”

He looked over at Eleanor, one of the salespeople at Rollins Electrical Supply, where he’d been employed as the small company’s business manager for the last two months. “I’m not hiding; I just like to work while I eat.”

“Well, I don’t think all those spreadsheets are good for your digestion,” she said with a smile, elbow on the table with her fork hovering over her salad.

Patrick shrugged and sat across from her at the small break room table. “I don’t usually see you in here at lunch time.”

“Yeah, I’m usually out on sales calls in the middle of the day, but we’ve got that training at one o’clock.”

He rolled his eyes. “Super useful for us desk jockeys to undergo extensive training on electrical safety, huh?”

“I know my life is frequently in danger from… see, I can’t even come up with an example of something that would be funny.”

“Don’t you sell this stuff for a living?” Patrick asked with a smirk. Eleanor was nice and clever; he hadn’t really made a work friend since coming back to his home town and taking this job. Maybe she could be his work friend.

“So, Linda was telling me you got married recently?” she asked around a mouthful of baby spinach.

Patrick tried not to cringe. Apparently Linda, their administrative assistant, was a gossip. “Uh… yeah. Three months ago.” He looked down at his left hand and winced. He’d forgotten to put on his wedding ring again. He hoped Rachel wouldn’t notice it sitting on his bedside table.

“Wow, really recently. And then you guys moved here to Oak Grove?”

“Oh… not exactly. Rachel and I grew up here, but I had moved away for a few months. I came back when we got married.” He took a bite of his mediocre frozen entree. It was too hot, and he burned his tongue.

“Gotcha. Were you away at school or something?”

Eleanor was clearly one of those people who loved asking questions about your life until she dug down to something uncomfortable. With Patrick she didn’t have to dig that deep.

“No, I’d just…” He sighed — how to explain the temporary insanity that had taken him to Schitt’s Creek? “I thought I needed to make a big change in my life,” he blurted out quickly. “I quit my job and broke up with Rachel and moved to this random town to work for a guy, Ray, who… it doesn’t matter. It was all a big mistake.”

“Wow, so you and Rachel got back together and then immediately got married? That’s ballsy.”

Was that what it was? he thought. “We’ve been together off and on since we were teenagers. She… she knows how to shake some sense back into me when I need it.” He’d certainly needed it when Rachel showed up in Schitt’s Creek, rescuing him from the lonely life he’d fallen into. Renting a single room in Ray’s house in a town where there hadn’t really enough financial planning business to cobble together a full-time job, where his only friend was the sullen woman who worked at the motel, and their only activity had been going to a seedy bar on the outskirts of town to drink beers and mope about their sad lives.

That reminded him, he really should text Stevie and see how she was doing.

Eleanor seemed to finally get the hint that quizzing Patrick about his relationship with his wife might be too much of a minefield for a work acquaintance to navigate. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Patrick got to the middle part of his frozen entree and found that it was too cold. He powered through eating it anyway.

“So are you married?” he asked in an attempt at polite interest.

“Yep. We’ve got two boys, four and six.”

Patrick asked her for pictures, figuring that would effectively occupy the rest of lunch. It did. He paged through the pictures on her phone and cooed appropriately at the cute kids until it was time to grab a cup of coffee — a potion to prevent sleeping during the corporate safety training session.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, Patrick letting himself sink into the soothing monotony of working on the budget for the following year’s capital expenditures. When his phone buzzed, he was surprised to see that it was already half past five.

The text was from Rachel. Don’t forget we’re having dinner with your parents tonight.

He had forgotten, but he didn’t mind so long as his mother had finished giving them grief about rushing off for a quickie courthouse wedding and denying her the joy of seeing them get married ‘properly.’

Before he drove the short distance home in the darkness of the January evening, Patrick plugged his phone into the auxiliary jack, loading up a news podcast to listen to on the drive. He’d been listening to podcasts a lot lately, as if he had to be feeding content into his brain during any idle moment. He tried not to think about why.

The apartment was quiet when he walked in; Rachel was picking up some bread rolls and a bottle of wine to bring over to his parents’ house on her way home from work, she’d said. A stack of boxes that he still hadn’t managed to unpack stood in one corner of the living room, shaming him. He went into the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes that were in the sink, along with a pot that had been left to soak the night before.

When the apartment door opened, Patrick felt his shoulders tense.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Rachel called.

“Yeah, give me just a sec,” Patrick called back, flipping the now-clean pot upside down and setting it aside to dry. Wiping off his hands, he emerged and gave his wife a small smile. “All set.”

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and he pulled it out and glanced down.

[Stevie] hey. whatcha doing?

Patrick put the phone back in his pocket without responding. “You want me to drive?” he asked Rachel.

The trip to Clint and Marcy’s house was ten minutes. Everything in Patrick’s world was within a five mile radius — his apartment, his job, his parents’ house, the stores he shopped at, the bar drank at. No wonder he’d thought escaping to a new place would solve his problems. It hadn’t.

His phone buzzed again as they pulled into the driveway, tires crunching over uneven pavement where he’d tripped and skinned his knees when he was eight.

[Stevie] i’m about to go to the bar alone and i need u to convince me not to go home with a loser

Patrick texted her back: Don’t go home with a loser.

“Who ya texting?” Rachel asked.

Patrick put his phone away and stepped out of the car, grabbing the bread and wine from the back seat. “Just somebody from work,” he said, the lie coming without forethought. It wasn’t that he had any feelings for Stevie; Stevie had only ever been a friend. But he figured Rachel might be suspicious of the female friend he’d made during the last time they were broken up.

He looked at his phone again as he followed Rachel up the driveway.

[Stevie] very helpful 🙄

[Patrick] You’re better than this, Stevie.

[Stevie] that’s debatable

“Come on in, kids,” his Dad said as he opened the door, giving an exaggerated shudder as the winter wind accompanied them into the house. “Brrr, it’s a cold one!”

His mom joined them in the foyer, taking the wine and bread rolls with a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks for having us for dinner. It’s always nice to not have to cook,” he said as he pulled off his gloves and scarf and winter coat. Shoving the gloves into a coat pocket, he hung everything on a peg.

“Of course, we love having you here,” Marcy said.

“Maybe we should make it a weekly thing,” Rachel suggested, following Marcy to the kitchen. Patrick shoved his hands deep in his pockets and shot his father a tight smile.

“So, son,” Clint said, clapping Patrick on the back as they followed the women. “How’s married life?”

Patrick tensed, then hoped that his father hadn’t felt the tension in the hand that was still resting on his shoulder. “It’s fine. Good.” What was he supposed to say within earshot of his new wife, anyway? It’s a lot like before we were married, Dad. I feel tired and sad most of the time. I’m relieved every time Rachel leaves the house and anxious when she comes home. I stay up late watching TV to avoid going to bed with her. The thought of this being the rest of my life makes me want to… He choked that thought off before he could finish it.

Rachel fell naturally into helping his mother in the kitchen while Patrick stood by and watched. It wasn’t that he and Rachel cleaved to those kinds of regressive gender roles with meal preparation in their own apartment, but Patrick felt wrong-footed and awkward with his parents these days. He had for a while now. Rachel and Marcy chatted happily; they’d always gotten along well, those two. It was yet another reason that he’d gotten back together with Rachel each time — he knew it was what his parents wanted.

He checked his phone, but Stevie hadn’t texted again.

Schitt’s Creek had felt like his salvation when he first arrived, Ray Butani a gift from the heavens who offered him a room to rent and a job within a few minutes of his interview. Often in those early days, as Patrick had walked past the shuttered general store to get lunch at the cafe, he’d have a feeling deep in his bones that something wonderful was right around the corner for him. Sometimes it had felt so immediate that he’d stop and turn around quickly, expecting to see… he was never sure. He’d scrutinize what passed for the downtown, wondering why he felt like he’d just walked into a room and had forgotten what he was there for. Eventually that feeling of possibility faded and loneliness had crept in to replace it. When Rachel had arrived in town after a few months and asked him to take her back, he’d told himself it was for the best.

“Patrick’s going to New York in a few weeks,” Rachel volunteered as they all sat down to eat.

“Oh, really?” His father looked over to him, impressed. “What for?”

“It’s New Jersey, actually. And it’s just so that I can take a seminar on U.S. tax law. Rollins wants to do more business outside of Canada and I need to learn more about it, that’s all.”

“You’ll need your passport,” his mother said.

Patrick chuckled. Once a mother, always a mother. “I know, Mom.”

It took until halfway through dinner before his mother mentioned the wedding.

“I was thinking,” Marcy continued, putting down her fork. “I know you’ve rejected the idea of having another ceremony so that the family can be there, but what would you think about just a reception? A party, so that everyone can celebrate your marriage? Would that be okay?”

Patrick felt his stomach turn over. “It would cost a lot of money, Mom,” he said, looking down at his plate and not at Rachel.

“We can help with the cost, sweetheart, and I’m sure Rachel’s parents would say the same.” She reached over and took his hand. “We just want to do something nice that would allow us to celebrate your happiness.”

His happiness. His eyes flicked briefly to Rachel, who was watching him for his reaction. “I don’t know. We’ll talk about it.” Another glance at Rachel — she had averted her gaze and was staring down at her plate.

“Oh, do you remember Mrs. Temple down at the library?” Marcy asked. “She asked me today if it was a shotgun wedding, can you believe it?”

Patrick scowled at her. “In other words, she wanted to know if I had to marry Rachel because she’s pregnant? That’s what she wanted to know?”

Rachel snorted.

“I’m sure she was only kidding,” Clint said, an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“Just tell anyone who asks that it was because Patrick had to get the wedding over with quickly before he inevitably talked himself out of it again,” Rachel said.

“Rach—”

“What? I’m joking,” she said, taking a large swig of her wine. “Lighten up, Patrick.”

Several seconds of excruciating silence passed before Marcy cleared her throat. “Did you end up joining the hockey team, sweetheart? You’d mentioned you were thinking about it.”

Patrick shook his head. He used to play with a local adult league, but he would have had to try to join a team late this year, and even the thought of the whole process had exhausted him. “Not this year. But I’ll do baseball this summer.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice,” his mother said.

“We’re loving that new blender you got us for Christmas,” Rachel said.

“Rach is trying to become a smoothie person,” Patrick said.

“I can be a smoothie person,” Rachel said with a laugh, and Patrick breathed a sigh of relief.

The awkwardness past, they carried dinner over the finish line with similarly banal small talk. Patrick managed to maintain an upbeat facade until they were back in the car.

“I think I’m gonna meet Dennis for a beer down at Cooper’s after I drop you at home,” he said as he backed out of the driveway. “He texted me a little bit ago.” Actually, Patrick had texted his cousin from the bathroom before they left his parents’ house.

“Oh,” Rachel said, staring out the passenger window. “Okay.”

They were most of the way home before she spoke again. “Listen, we don’t need to do that reception thing your mom was talking about.”

“We can if you want to,” Patrick replied.

“No, because I know you don’t want to.”

“I’m fine with it.”

Rachel laughed bitterly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her hands twisting in her lap. “I don’t know why I thought getting married would make things better. It’s only made things worse, hasn’t it?”

Patrick’s stomach dropped, and he reached for something to say. “I don’t… What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring, Patrick?”

He stretched out his fingers on the steering wheel. “I just forgot to put it back on this morning, that’s all. I swear.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

“Look, I won’t go to the bar. I’ll come in and we can talk—”

“I don’t really want to talk.” Rachel’s voice quavered. “I’d rather be alone right now.”

Patrick pulled up in front of the house. “I thought things between us were okay.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘okay’ is supposed to be like. And maybe I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like either, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be like this. I think I’m supposed to very occasionally feel like my husband loves me and desires me.”

“Rachel, I do love you.”

“And I don’t know if you know what that means.” She jerked her seat belt off and pulled open the car door.

“Rach—”

“Patrick, don’t. Just… we can talk tomorrow, okay?” She slammed the car door and ran into the building before he could say anything else.

Driving to the bar in a daze, Patrick tried to raise and counter all the things that could potentially have set Rachel off. The fact that he wasn’t wearing his ring, that had truly just been forgetfulness. His reluctance to have a reception to celebrate their wedding, that was because of the cost. His general unhappiness these days, that was just the winter doldrums. The fact that he could count the number of times they’d had sex in the last several weeks on one hand? He was just tired and stressed because of his new job.

The bar was busy, even for a Friday night, the music and raised voices of animated, drunk conversations hitting him like a wall of sound as he pushed through the heavy oak door. He spotted Dennis at the bar, and Patrick waved and made his way over.

“Hey,” Dennis said, gesturing vaguely with his beer bottle as Patrick pulled off his coat. “I would have ordered you something, but they have a lot of new, confusing microbrews here now and it paralyzed me.”

Patrick clapped his cousin on the back as he sat down on an adjacent stool and fumbled to find the coat hook under the bar without looking. “No problem.” He raised a finger to signal the bartender, a heavily tattooed woman with an asymmetrical haircut who Patrick was pretty sure had gone to his high school. She nodded to indicate she’d seen him as her hands moved quickly to pour bourbon into several glasses.

“Is everything okay?” Dennis asked. “It’s usually me dragging you out to the bar, not the other way around.”

Patrick took a breath, uncertain how much of his problems he should spill, but he was saved by the arrival of the bartender.

“Hey, Ash,” Dennis said.

“Hey,” she said before turning to Patrick. “What can I get you?”

“A shot of Bulleit and whatever you have on draft that’s not too hoppy, please.”

The bartender nodded. “Gotcha, just a minute.”

Dennis had an eyebrow arched. “Do we have a goal in mind tonight to get shit-faced? Because if so, I need to level up.”

“It’s been a long week,” Patrick said, eyes following the bartender. “You know, I could have sworn when she was in high school, her name was Katie. Or Kristen? Something with a K.”

“It was Kaitlyn, but now it’s Ash, and they use they/them pronouns now,” Dennis said.

“Oh,” Patrick said, uncertain what his reaction to that information should be. What he felt for just a brief second was a surge of… jealousy? Uncertain of where that could possibly be coming from, he did his best to ignore it.

“So is it the new job that’s driving you to drink?” Dennis asked.

“No, the job is fine. How’s teaching?” Patrick’s cousin taught math at the local high school.

“Is it summer yet?” Dennis asked with a manic laugh. “My kids this year are a handful.”

Ash brought Patrick’s drinks over, and as they set them down, Dennis gestured to their forearm, where a woman’s face was tattooed on their pale skin. Or, half of a face, at any rate. The other half was a skeletal horror. “I don’t remember seeing that tattoo before,” he commented.

Ash looked down at it and smiled. “It’s fairly new. Hela, the Norse goddess of death.”

“I don’t remember Cate Blanchett looking like that in the last Thor movie,” Patrick said, taking a sip of his beer.

Ash rolled their eyes. “Yeah, because I’m not talking about a superhero movie, I’m talking about actual Norse mythology,” they said as they walked away to go deal with another customer.

“So, how’s Rachel?” Dennis asked.

Patrick shrugged, tossing back the bourbon and following it with a long drag from his beer.

Dennis was watching him carefully. “That good, huh?”

“Pretty sure she already regrets getting married.”

“No way. Rachel adores you, there’s no way she regrets marrying you.” Dennis picked up a coaster and rolled it back and forth along the bar. “Unless she’s picking up on some regret on your part.”

Patrick swallowed more beer, impatient for the alcohol to dull the sharp edges of his emotions. “I’ve loved Rachel since I was a kid, why would I have regrets?”

Dennis opened his mouth and then hesitated for several seconds before speaking. “You do know that loving someone the way you love a best friend, or a sister, that’s not the same thing as being in love with them, right? Like, I’m sure some people build marriages on that kind of… I don’t know, companionship, and if you’re both approaching it that way, fine, but it’s not what most marriages are based on.”

“I don’t love her like a sister, Dennis. Pretty sure I wouldn’t fuck my sister,” Patrick said with a strained laugh.

“Okay, fair enough, but tell me honestly: is Rachel truly the love of your life? And don’t answer me with how long you’ve been a couple. Tell me that when you’re away from her, you miss her like there’s a gaping hole in your chest. Tell me that the thought of your future together makes you so happy, you can hardly contain it. Tell me that sometimes you can’t wait to tear her clothes off.”

The bartender was handing a check to the woman sitting a couple of stools down as he said all this, and Patrick could see Ash register at least some of Dennis’ speech. His cousin was now waiting for him to respond, but he had no idea how to. All of that stuff sounded like the way people said they felt in movies. It didn’t sound like real life.

“You know, at one point I thought you were gay,” Dennis said.

Patrick reared back on his stool. “What? When did you think that?”

“During high school. You had that friend on the baseball team… I don’t remember his name. The tall guy.”

Patrick didn’t want to admit that he knew immediately who Dennis was talking about. “Eric.”

“You guys spent a lot of time hanging out, and the way you looked at him…” Dennis shrugged. “Just kind of looked like you were in love with him.”

“Well, I wasn’t,” Patrick said. He could feel himself flushing. It suddenly felt very hot in the bar, and he felt the urge to flee — to run outside into the night and put his face in the nearest snow bank.

“Okay,” Dennis said simply.

“Seriously, I wasn’t,” Patrick said, unsure why he was still talking when Dennis had seemed willing to drop it. “I was dating Rachel then anyway; I wasn’t into my best friend.”

“I said okay.”

“I’m going to be a total asshole and butt in,” Ash said, and Patrick looked up in surprise, wondering how long they had been standing there. “But have you considered the idea that you might be asexual? Or aromantic? Or both?”

“Kinda putting your tip at risk here, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.

Ash shrugged. “I know, I’m breaking the bartender code; don’t offer your opinion unless it’s asked for. Sorry.” They crossed their arms over their vintage Roxy Music t-shirt and didn’t look particularly sorry.

“I’m not asexual,” Patrick said, although he knew he didn’t have as much of a libido as most people seemed to. “I like sex just fine.”

Ash arched a well-sculpted eyebrow. “Convincing.”

“Okay, can we change the subject, please?” Patrick asked, taking another large drink from his beer glass.

“Sorry, man.” Dennis at least had the decency to look regretful. “Look, you know I’m always here for you, right? Whatever you need.”

Patrick knew he should have been comforted by that, but it was hard to feel comforted by his cousin’s offer when he had no idea what he needed. He stared down into his almost-empty beer glass, looking for the answer.

Chapter 3

[lady-une]

Hidden Pain

Eeek here it is, the story I had written in hopes to put a smile on my lovely @tears-of-orphans face. It was supposed to be a fluff story but went to angst town real quick. Please just know this is a/u for Kiseok, well I hope it is. I know I am not alone with worrying about whats going on with him. The pressure to put out new music is probably super overwhelming for him and I really hope he has someone there to help him not become consumed with everything. Trigger warning for excessive alcohol use. I may have drawn from my personal experience with dealing with someone who has a drinking problem. I made a moodboard so maybe that will cheer you all up. Enjoy, and please leave me a comment or send me an anon with your thoughts. They really do help me grow as a writer.

You have been away from Kiseok for over a year, you know something is wrong but he shut you out. Coming back home this isn’t what you expected to find, will he ever open up to you?

Word count: 49946

Theme: angst

Rating: Mature, alcohol abuse

Pairing: Simon D (Kiseok)  x Reader (F)

“The number you have called is unavailable, please leave a message after the tone.”

Clicking the end button, I ended my millionth call to Kiseok. Being away from home for a year has been hard but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. My sister who moved to the states was in a horrific car crash with her family. Her husband had died in the accident leaving her to care for their twin daughters alone. My sister was in a coma for two months because of the swelling on her brain, when my mother got the call we both rushed to the states to be with my sister. After some time my mother went back home while I stayed here to care for my sister and nieces. The whole time being here I tried to stay in contact with my friends back home but it’s hard being on different time zones and caring for the girls and my sister.

Kiseok and I had met about two years ago at a club, I was there with my friends as was he. We had run into each other literally, well I had. In my buzzed state of mind I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings while texting a friend with one hand and holding my drink in my other hand, I didn’t even notice him until it was too late. My fruity drink ended up all over his silk button up and my ass ended up on the ground. When my brain had finally caught up to what was going on I had jumped up and started to brush off his shirt and of course not paying attention that I was brushing a little too low until he grabbed my hands. When I had looked up his face he had a caring smile on it but I could see a little pink to his cheeks. I apologized a million times over and over but he brushed it off as if there was no problem. I offered to pay for the dry cleaning but he said not to worry about it but if I wanted to make up for it I could take him out to dinner instead. We traded numbers that night and it was the start of our friendship. I didn’t know who he was as I spent most of my time at the hospital doing my residency and I feel like that’s what made our friendship special to him, because he was just a normal person in my eyes instead of a hip hop artist.

Kiseok had always been this charismatic person who could brighten up any room with his laughter and jokes. He was also the person you could go to with a problem and he would try and help you solve it the best way possible. But he is human after all and like any other person he has his downside too, like not allowing other people to help him with his problems. He always had this way to hide his issues so that no one would know. He says he doesn’t want to burden other with his problems so he doesn’t like to share them. So when I started to notice him pulling away right before I left I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t have enough time to try and figure out what was going on before I had to get to my family. I would text him or email him every chance I could get. He would respond that everything was fine or he wouldn’t respond at all. His social media posts started to dwindle down as well before stopping all together. We had no mutual friends and I didn’t know the guys from his label that well either, honestly, I don’t even think they knew about me. I had no one I could call to check up on him and it was making me really uncomfortable.

When I woke up this morning to the news that he had wiped his Instagram clean the dread I felt at the pit of my stomach started to spread more. Something was really wrong and I was starting to feel uneasy. Yes he was starting to show up more on other people’s videos or in pictures with other people but there was something off about it. I was going to figure this out but I just needed to get back home to do it! Thankfully that’s exactly where I was going, my sister had decided to move back home with my nieces to be with the rest of our family. In 12 hours I will be home and able to physically check in with him, I just hope he didn’t forget about me.

Picking my phone back up I opened up my Instagram and went into my DMs, the ones I had sent him said seen but no reply as did the one I sent Jay Park. Of course that one wouldn’t get a reply as I know I’m probably coming off as a crazy fan but I was desperate to get some kind of response. Closing out of the app I opened up my text messages to him, all of them read but none replied to. Letting out another sigh I sent another one.

y/n: Kiseok, I am coming home. I don’t know what’s going on with you but please know that I care about you and I am worried. As soon as I get things settled in at home I am going to stop by, I hope you are there.

Finally we are boarded onto the plane, the ride was like any other one I have done over the years. Food was served, movies were watched, naps were taken. But the dread I had been feeling in the pit of my stomach was always there. Once we landed we went to my family home and I helped get everyone settled in. My parents asked me to stay for dinner but I told them I had an urgent matter to get to and rushed out the door. It was late and I had no idea if Kiseok was even home with how busy his schedule was.

The cab pulled up to his apartment building and I thanked the driver before paying and shutting the door. Pulling my jacket closer to myself to keep out the cold wind I walked up to the building, I had only hoped he hadn’t moved in the year I was away. Taking the elevator up to his floor I started to feel my heart beat faster and my hands began to sweat. I wiped my hands on my pants as I approached his door. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the doorbell, I listened to the sound and waited. There was no answer. I rang it again with no response. Putting my ear up to the door I strained to listen for some kind of sound coming from the other side of the door but heard nothing.  Pulling my phone out of my jacket I dialed his number and put my ear to the door to hear if his phone would ring from the other side, again no sound was heard. All of the emotions I had been feeling for the past year just came rushing to the front, turning my back I slid down to the floor and let my head fall onto my knees. For the first time in a year I cried. I cried for not being able to stay in contact with him, for knowing something was wrong and for not being able to do anything. I felt utterly hopeless.

After sitting on the floor outside his door for a few moments I wiped my tears and stood up. Walking to the elevator I felt tired, as if all the emotions had zapped my energy. Just as I was about to push the button the doors opened. Looking up slowly and I saw him, there on the elevator stood the one man I desperately needed to see. We both just stood there looking at each other before the elevator tried to shut the door on him. His hand reached out stopping the door causing it to open back up. I moved to the side as he stepped off and came to stand next to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I said I was worried and told you I was going to come over. Didn’t you get my text?”

“I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

“I was worried.”

“Don’t be, I am fine.”

“No you’re not, I can tell by just looking at you.”

“Wow, that’s so nice of you to say after not seeing me for a year.”

“Don’t do that, don’t twist my words Kiseok.”

“Just go home y/n, its late.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

Kiseok turned from me and walked over to his door before entering in the passcode, he opened the door and before it could shut locking me out I ran up to it and put foot in the door. The weight of the door was heavier then I remembered and the pressure from it caused me to hiss out in pain. Kiseok turned his head quickly when he heard me hiss and dropped the bags he was holding onto the floor.

“You fool, why would you do that.”

He opened the door allowing me to walk into his apartment slowly. I took my shoes off and slipped on the guest slippers before slowly stepping my way to his couch. Sitting down I was able to take in his apartment, it was the same as it was before I left but just a little dirtier then it was in the past. Kiseok came and sat on the coffee table in front of me before he reached down for my foot and placed it in his lap. He took my sock off to see the beginning of a bruise forming on my foot.

“Why would you do that, you know my door is really heavy.”

“I didn’t want to get locked out.”

“You really shouldn’t have come.”

He stood up and grabbed a pillow from the couch before pulling the coffee table closer and placed my foot on top of the pillow. I followed him with my eyes to his kitchen to see him grab an ice pack from the freezer and a dish towel. He returned to me and placed it on my foot causing me to hiss out again from the pain and coldness.

“That will teach you to try and keep a door open that is heavier then you.”

“Well if someone would answer my calls and texts I wouldn’t have to just randomly show up here and try to be stop your door with my itty bitty foot.”

He scoffed and smiled, “You do have the smallest feet I have ever seen.”

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

The smile he had on his face instantly dropped as he turned and walked towards the bags on the floor. He lifted them and brought them to the kitchen taking the contents out, some instant ramen, rice, soju, and beer.

“Are you expecting company?”

“No why?”

“You were never one to drink alone, you never have booze in the house.”

“Things change.”

“I can see.”

I stay silent as he puts a pot on the stove to boil his noodles and cuts up some extra some stuff to put in his food.

“You know I can help, you always loved my noodles.”

“You’re hurt, just sit there.”

When he finishes cooking he put everything on a tray and brought it to the couch. I thanked him for the food and we ate in silence. I take the time to look at him closely, he has lost weight which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t already a smaller framed man. He also had deep dark circles under his eyes, which isn’t uncommon for people who work late at night but these were too extreme. After he finished his meal he started opening up the soju and beer making himself a drink.

“So how are things? How is work?”

“It is work, nothing new really.”

I finish my meal and placed my bowl on the coffee table and turned to him.

“You can lie to me all you want but I know something is wrong. You have been pulling away since before I even left. Then you go MIA on social media along with our own conversations. I am worried about you. I know you hate to open up to people but please Kiseok tell me what’s going on. Let me in!”

“Why? Why are you pushing so much! I am fine and I can handle things on my own. I think you should leave.”

I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes and I put my sock back on my foot before standing. Kiseok is in the kitchen making himself another drink as I reach the door. Just as he opens the door under the sink to throw away the can I get a glimpse of all the empty soju bottles and various other empty bottles. I stop putting my shoes on and hobble my way over to him pushing him out of the way to take the bin out. Smashed beer cans and soju bottles have filled the bin up so that other items have started to flow out of the bin. I look up at him surprised, of all things I wasn’t expecting this.

“Kiseok what is this?”

“I am a grown man, if I want to drink I will.”

“There is drinking and then there is excessive drinking, this is too much. When did this start?”

“Just go y/n.”

“No!”

Kiseok grabs my arm and roughly drags me to the door before he opens it and pushes me out causing me to fall before he throws my shoes out as well. The door is slammed shut and locked. The tears are streaming down my face as I crawl to the door where my shoes are I put one on and then move to put the other one on. I cry out in pain as I try to push my injured foot into the shoe, in my frustration I hit the door cursing its existence.

“Stupid fucking door.”

Reaching for the handle I help myself to my feet before placing a hand on the door, the one person I am worried about the most is just on the other side of this door but he mind as well be on another planet. I say a soft goodbye before turning and hobbling towards the elevator.

Over the next two week I make multiple attempts to get in touch with him by either calling or stopping by his house. He continues to ignore my attempts which I would have let slide since he has been on more videos and in pictures with the other members of AOMG but in a recent video you could see him slurring his words and you could tell he has lost more weight. It wasn’t just me now, his fans were starting to notice and were leaving comments of concern on posts of him. As much as I wanted to spend my time trying to figure out what was going on with him I had to get back to my life which meant work. Prior to coming back I was able to talk to the hospital who I previously worked for and they were able to give me back my old job. The only down fall was I would be stuck on night shifts until a day spot were to open back up.

It was my second week back working a night shift. I was exhausted from all of the people coming in. We were one of the largest hospitals in Seoul and were known to house high ranking officials on top of celebrities. Standing at the nurse station I was looking over some charts just as a call came in about a VIP patient arriving by ambulance, they had an ETA of 2 minutes. I along with another doctor rushed to the ambulance bay just as they were pulling in. The ambulance staff jumped down and rolled out the patient and began shouting off the stats of the patient but I couldn’t hear a thing they were saying because there on the gurney was Kiseok.

“Dr. y/n!”

“Yes?”

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“No I am sorry.”

The other attending doctor grabbed my arm, “Pull yourself together!”

We grab the gurney and rushed him inside then transferred him to a hospital bed inside a secluded area of the emergency room. The other attending doctor was getting him hooked up to the machines and checking his vitals, I had the paperwork and stepped out to find his guardian. Just outside the door pacing back and forth was none other than Jay Park.

“Are you Jung Kiseok’s guardian?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please tell me what happened?”

“I hadn’t heard from him all day so I stopped by his place to check on him and found him unconscious. I tried to wake him but he wouldn’t wake up so I called for an ambulance.”

“It says here that he stopped breathing on the transport here. Do you know of any medical conditions we should be aware of? Any heavy drinking or drug use?”

“No he doesn’t do drugs, he isn’t usually sick. He hurt his foot earlier this year but that should he healed.” “What about drinking, he smelt of liquor.”

“Yeah he has been drinking a lot and I have been trying to get him to stop but he won’t listen.”

“I see.”

Jay who was looking down this whole time lifted his head up and glared at me.

“Don’t say that! He is a hardworking man!”

I stopped writing down everything and glared right back at him.

“I know he is a hardworking man, but I am having a hard time believing you have done all you could to help him. He has been pulling away for well over a year and now he is like this? Where have you been that he was able to get this way? What have you been doing exactly to pull him back?”

Jay stepped back as if I had physically slapped him, the look of shock was evident on his face.

“Do you know Kiseok?”

“Yes I do. Now if there is nothing left I am going to get back in there and figure out what is wrong.”

Walking back in the doctor and nurse were watching his vitals as they drew blood for the labs.

“How is he doing?”

“He is having trouble breathing and his body temperature is low. What did the guardian say?”

“He said that he has been doing some heavy drinking and they have tried to help but I doubt it.”

“Another celebrity throwing their life away.”

I snap my head towards my fellow doctor, “Don’t say that shit, leave if that’s the way you are going to look at this.”

“Do you know him?”

“Yes but we haven’t seen in each other in a long time.”

“Maybe you should..”

The alarms of the machines cut off his sentence, Kiseok started to shake violently on the table. We rush to turn him onto his side and to keep his air way clear, we administered some medication and got the seizure under control.

“This is alcohol poisoning.”

I nodded my head, “We need to test his liver and check the rest of his organs to make sure there is no damage.”

The rest of the night we ran tests and checked everything, none of his organs were damaged and there was nothing done to his brain from his seizure or from when he stopped breathing. Once we had him stable enough we moved him to a private room on the VIP floor and brought up Jay. Jay sat down on the other side of the bed from me watching Kiseok.

“It was alcohol poisoning, thankfully there was no damage to his organs.”

“Will he be ok?”

“Yes he will, but he can’t be drinking like this.”

“Will you make sure the staff does not release this to the media?”

“Are you serious right now? Your best friend could have fucking died and your worried about the media catching wind?”

“I just don’t want him to have any problems.”

“Bull shit! If you didn’t want any problems you would have stopped this from getting out of hand!”

“If you knew things were getting like this where the fuck were you y/n? Your standing there placing all the blame on me, but I don’t see you do anything!”

“Because I wasn’t even in the fucking country! I was taking care of my family in the states but the first thing I did when I got back was go to him! I have been trying to get in touch with him this whole fucking time but he has been ignoring me! I can’t do shit from across the fucking ocean, so don’t try and place this on me Jay!”

“Wait, are you y/n who had to go take care of a sister who was in a car accident?”

“Yes.”

“I see, listen I am sorry for yelling. Kiseok told us about you, he was really upset when you left.”

“If it wasn’t an emergency I wouldn’t have left like that, but I had no choice. I called him and texted him all the time but he cut contact with me.”

“He said he didn’t want to burden you, but I am not going to get into that. This is something you need to talk to him about personally. Listen I have to go and check in with the other guys, call me if something happens.”

Jay stood and walked out the door leaving me there rather speechless. For someone who said they cared for Kiseok he didn’t really act like it. I checked him over once more before returning back to the ER to finish out my shift. Once I clocked out I went back up to Kiseok’s room and pulled a chair to his bed and sat down.

“Kiseok please just let me in.”

Laying my head down on the bed I closed my eyes only wanting to rest them.

“Y/n?”

I opened my eyes and sat up letting out a yawn.

“Kiseok, are you ok?”

“What are you doing here, why am I here?”

I rolled the chair over to the machine and checked his vitals before pulling my pen light out and checking his eyes.

“You were brought into the ER last night unconscious and you had a seizure while in the ER. How are you feeling, do you have any pain anywhere?”

“Wait you work here?”

“Yes, I was working the night shift last night.”

“Then why are you here? Why aren’t you at home sleeping?”

“Because I couldn’t leave until I knew you were ok.”

“Y/n….”

“Kiseok I get that you don’t want to burden me with your problems but you aren’t. I care for you and this whole year has been hard being so far from you when I knew something was going on. I have been worrying this whole time about what was going on with you but you wouldn’t say anything. Jay said you have been drinking heavily for a while now and you won’t listen to him about stopping. You had alcohol poisoning last night, you stopped breathing! If Jay had not showed up you could have DIED Kiseok!”

My hand was grasping his bed sheet and by the time I was done talking my voice was nearing shouting volume. The tears were falling down my face again landing on my hands. Just the thought of him not being here any longer was too much to bare. Kiseok pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me. I grabbed onto his hospital shirt and sobbed into his chest as he rubbed my back and tried to calm me down. When the tears stopped and I was nearly out of breath I pulled away, looking up at Kiseok I noticed he was also crying. I reached my hand out to wipe away his tears as he did to mine as well.

“I am so sorry y/n, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Please don’t shut me out, don’t suffer alone Kiseok. I am here for you, I am always here for you no matter what.”

“You just had so much going on with your residency and then you had to rush off to your family. I didn’t want to add my shit to everything you were dealing with.”

“The whole world could be falling apart and I would still find time to listen and help you, just as you would for me.”

“Can you forgive me for acting like such an ass that day?”

“As long as you stop drinking and tell me what is going on so I can help you.”

“Deal, I don’t ever want to see you cry like this because of me.”

Kiseok finally opened up to me about his struggles. He has been struggling to put out new music, no matter how much he tried he just couldn’t find the inspiration needed to put together his music. He felt pressure not only from the fans about getting new music but from his fellow members of AOMG. Everyone had put out new stuff and was doing amazing but here he was only being featured on tracks while it has been ages since he released something new from himself. The pressure to put out something amazing and captivating was just too much for the perfectionist that he was. He started to drink slowly just to deal with the stress but eventually it grew and got out of hand. It was to the point that he was drinking to even get some sleep and drinking at the studio and after performances. He wasn’t even eating enough because he was so depressed. All I could do was sit there and hold him as he let all the worries from the past year flow from his mouth. It was like once he started talking the dam was opened and everything flowed freely.

“Did you even try and share your concerns with Jay or the others?”

“No because everyone is doing their own thing.”

“Kiseok you need to learn to lean on others when you need it.”

“I know.”

“As soon as you are released from here I am going with you home and taking all the booze out of there and stocking your fridge up. You need to eat more food that isn’t loaded with unhealthy stuff.”

Kiseok grabbed my hand and held it in his, “I am happy to have you back y/n, I was such a fool to cut you out. I have missed you so much.”

“If it wasn’t an emergency I would never have left, I only ever wanted to be here with you.”

After a few days in the hospital Kiseok was discharged and ordered to refrain from drinking and to take part in outpatient treatment for his drinking problem. Just as I promised I went with him back to his apartment and cleaned up everything making sure there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in there. I spent the rest of the afternoon prepping meals that he could easily cook or cooking the meals in advance and putting them in the freezer for him to cook later. He sat across the counter from me munching on some food and cracking jokes. His whole attitude had changed, he didn’t look so upset and angry as he was before. He still had a ways to go and would be talking to a therapist about his stress and concerns. He didn’t want to at first but I convinced him that a therapist would be the best way to go so that he didn’t fall deeper into depression.

“I have to head to work now, Jay said he would be here to get you in a little bit. I was thinking that maybe after I finish my shift I could swing by and check on you.”

“You know you don’t have to.”

“I know but I want to, besides we both work nights mostly so it’s not like you won’t be up anyways.”

“If you are coming from work then you mind as well just crash here.”

I looked down at my feet feeling the blush creep up across my face. Kiseok grabbed one of my hands with his as his other came to my face lifting it so he could look into my eyes.

“I don’t want to spend any more time away from you, having you around makes me feel better. I feel happier when I am with you. For the first time in a long time I feel like writing some music. So when you get off work please stay here with me.”

Looking into his eyes I bit my lip and nodded yes causing him to smile.

“You better go before I keep you here, you have no idea what you do to me by biting your lip.”

Kiseok dropped his hands and I turned to leave stopping just as I grab the door. Taking a deep breath, I turn back around and quickly walk up to him and step on my tippy toes to press my lips to his. Before he has a chance to react I quickly walk out the door. Leaning my back against the door I place my finger to my lips as I hear him laughing from the other side of the door. With the thought of coming back to him I left for work. Things were going to get better I knew it.

[patrineptn]

Proud of Your Boy (01/03)

Discord Prompt Wednesday, April 25, 2018 Prompt Word(s): Bloom/Rain

Summary: Yoosung has never been so poorly active in RFA chat or so diligent in his studies since he started college. The RFA members, however, didn’t know there was nothing to worry about.

Also available here and here.

Yoosung woke up with the buzzing of his phone. It was Saturday and his alarm was off, which mean either someone was calling him or he lost the track of time. With half-open eyes, he picked the device from the table and brought it close to his face. His finals ended just the day before and he was in a much-needed sleep.

Several missed calls, most of them coming from Zen and Seven, the last one just a minute ago. He scratched his eyes, trying to wake up enough to remember how to read Korean. Quietly, he left his bed and headed to the bathroom.

Yoosung washed his face, the cold water shaking away the remains of sleep. He read the chat history from the past days. He hadn't been much active lately, his finals came and he had a very good reason to not fail them. He barely got the necessary grades, but he made it. Yawning, he saw that Saeyoung - even half a year later, he still struggled to use the former hacker's real name, not his alias - and Zen were online.

He joined the chat before they ended up knocking on his door.

~Yoosung has joined the chat.~

Saeyoung: YOOSUNG!

Saeyoung: You

Saeyoung: are

Saeyoung: ALIVE!

ZEN: What the hell happened to you?

ZEN: I didn't see you online in the whole week,

ZEN: and you didn't pick up calls.

Yoosung: I was studying for finals.

Yoosung: My phone died.

Yoosung: I only realised it before going to bed last night.

Saeyoung: R u ok?

Saeyoung: First u stopped LOLOL.

Saeyoung: Now ur taking ur studies srsly.

Saeyoung: Ur a surrogate!

Saeyoung: Where's the real Yoosung?!

Yoosung: is it so hard to believe-

Yoosung: that I am really studying?!

ZEN: Yes! Lmao

Yoosung: I didn't get a scholarship for nothing, y'know?

ZEN: a month ago you weren't even sleeping to get some super rare helmet

ZEN: now you don't even pick up your phone

ZEN: because you were studying?!

ZEN: if it's a joke, it's not a funny one

Yoosung huffed. If only they knew. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands, peeking at his bed while he dried them in a towel. They wouldn't know what hit them.

It happened before his midterms. After pulling another all-nighter playing LOLOL, he skipped all the morning classes. When he woke up, it was past two and he decided on skipping the rest of the day. He used that time to do the dishes, sweep the floor, clean the bathroom, change his bedding; things he usually ignored but had the urge to do that day. Unconsciously, his mind told him to get the house ready for the surprise visitor.

Around the time he would be getting home, the bell rang. At first, Yoosung ignored it, not used to his own bell ringing, his guests never came without previous notice. The last time someone showed up suddenly, it was his mother and, as much as he missed her, more than ever he valued his privacy. When the bell rang for the second time, he answered the door.

There was a girl - a pretty girl with blue eyes and soft features - outside his apartment. He forced his brain to remember where he knew her from. The worn-out yellow backpack was a giveaway.

"Higu… re?" he tried.

"Higurashi." He failed. "You didn't show up today."

Yoosung looked away. He was caught. Someone noticed his absence. Should be so happy about it? "How can I help you, Higurashi…"

"Kagome. Higurashi Kagome. And the question here is how can I help you, Kim?" Yoosung hated when someone called him by his last name. His father was Mr Kim. He was only Yoosung. "Why are you avoiding me? You ignored my friend request and my message request in Fakebook and didn't give me a second glance in the times I tried to talk to you in the past couple days!"

"I hadn't checked my Fakebook in months and I don't remember you trying to reach me in school at all."

He should have chosen better words.

"Am I that invisible? We've been sharing classes for three semesters and you don't even know who I am. Do you?" He didn't. She lowered her gaze, sighing. "Whatever. I knew it would be a waste of time. See you around, Kim. Try coming to school every once in a while for a change."

Yoosung bit his lip. Was he really doing that to people? Ignoring them without even realizing it? Wasn't he the one who said once that just greeting his neighbours made him feel a part of a community? Why was he pushing away someone who came all the way to his house without even knowing the reason behind it?

"Hey, Higurashi!" She turned. "Why did you come here?"

"Why did I-" She frowned. "The history report? Professor Lee assigned us the chapters six to twelve."

"Is it a group project?" She nodded. "And we are in the same group?"

"We are the group. It is supposed to be done in pairs."

"Why didn't you choose someone else?"

"No one chose me."

That's how Yoosung met the one who would occupy his mind and heart soon.

Sometimes Yoosung wondered how could Zen fall so quickly for someone. Everyone, Jaehee in special, noticed how drawn to MC Zen was barely a day after she mysteriously joined RFA chat - not so mysteriously now that they knew the true identity of Unknown. In less than a week, the actor was head over heels without even meeting MC face-to-face. Now he understood.

It took Yoosung five days to understand the perfect woman shared classes with him for nearly two years.

Kagome was fierce. And somewhat scaring. She didn't let him slack off on their project, but she was fair when assigning duties. She lived in the dorms and wasn't allowed to have guests in her room, therefore, she basically camped at his place every night until they finished the fifty pages report - they started a week late, after all.

In these days, Yoosung met her many faces. The sweet and cheerful Kagome was the most lovable human he ever met. There was sincerity when she asked about his day, not like others whom would say it just to be polite. She also worried about his grades - it made him pay more attention to his classes, if only for her peace of mind.

The serious Kagome sent chills down his spine. She had no qualms in bossing him around and maybe, just a little bit, Yoosung liked it more than he should.

Stressed Kagome also meant 'leave-me-alone Kagome' and he respected her space whenever that particular vein popped on her neck. A cup of latte coffee usually helped to bring back serious Kagome.

Like that, Yoosung felt empty when he clicked send to submit their report. He looked at Kagome sitting on his bed, finishing the now cold green tea he prepared while sorting her notes and books. He didn't want to see her only in classes, he wanted to hang out without the burden of the schoolwork on their backs.

Should he ask her out? Was it the right time to do it? Was he prepared for rejection? Would he be able to brush it off and stay as friends if she broke his heart?

"Ne, Yoosung-kun," her Japanese slipped whenever she was nervous, "do-do you like superhero movies?" Her face was red as a tomato and her accent was strong than ever. She looked at everywhere but him. "There's this new Revengers movie coming out this week…"

A 'date' turned into two, then three perfect 'dates'. In the fourth, he gathered his courage to hold her hand in public. In the fifth, Yoosung got his first kiss, an unforgettable goodnight kiss under the rain on her doorstep. Yoosung walked on cloud nine, throwing smiles everywhere and to everyone. He wanted the world to know his life complete now, that Kagome filled him with happiness. However, things were never at beginner difficulty for him.

It was a rainy afternoon that created the perfect atmosphere for a snuggling-under-blankets-while-watching-a-movie day. Deep down - and he was too embarrassed to admit it, even to himself - Yoosung hoped for a Netflix-and-chill day. When she wiggled her butt and cuddled against him, her body moulded against his and he had to think of Saeyoung in a fairy costume to not make a fool of himself.

He barely paid attention to the screen. Kagome's shirt lifted when she snuggled on him, giving Yoosung access to her stomach. He felt her smooth skin, her navel and ribs. She shivered when his thumb brushed her breast by accident. Yoosung held his breath.

Yoosung almost fell from the bed when his phone buzzed. It was a message from Jaehee inviting him to a dinner with the rest of the RFA. It was the perfect chance to introduce Kagome to them.

"Where do we stand?"

Yoosung's mind short-circuited. He wasn't expecting the question. The silence that followed her statement was only broken by the raindrops hitting his window. Yoosung needed a full minute to reply.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Kagome shifted until she faced him. Her cheeks were stained with pink, her glare piercing into his soul.

"What are," Kagome's index finger pointed to herself, then to him, "we? We hang around, go on 'dates'." Emphasis on 'dates'. "Spend some quality time together, but…" She closed her eyes for a second. "What exactly I am to you?"

"Everything." His mouth said before his brain could stop him from being a hopeless romantic. The flow of words coming from his heart straight to his lips went on. "Everything I ever wanted in a girl. I mean, woman," he corrected once his brain function restarted. The blooming smile on her lips encouraged him. "I know a no-life with terrible academic scores like me isn't good enough to be the boyfriend of the foreign students' council president, but I'm hoping you already gave me a chance."

Kagome's expression shifted from gleeful to concerned. "I can't be your girlfriend. Not right now," she completed, probably seeing the desperation in his eyes and the little bits of his broken heart falling apart. "We have finals in half a month and I'll feel guilty if you don't pass them because you spent too much time with me." That last part she said so low he wasn't sure if it was for his ears or hers.

She saw his grades, he forgot the browser was opened when she borrowed his phone once. Which meant she knew how bad he went in midterms and how big were his chances to fail at least half of his subjects. He never thought his academic life would bring a problem to his love life. He never had a love life to worry about before.

He knew she didn't mean it, but someone in her rank couldn't be with someone below the average. Kagome deserved better, and Yoosung would be better. However, time was needed for him to raise his GPA. There was only one thing he could do immediately.

Yoosung grabbed Kagome's hands, her small fingers secured on his. "If I pass all my exams, will you be my girlfriend? I'll take you on a proper romantic date. We can have dinner, or I can cook for you! I'll look for Oden recipes. And we can go to that karaoke bar we've found the other day, or ice skating, you said you loved Yuri! On Ice."

"You will do that all… for me?"

"For myself, mostly. I want to be someone who you are proud having by your side. Don't look at me like that, it's not about you, Kagome," he removed a strand of hair falling on her face. "Higurashi Kagome, will you be my pre girlfriend?"

For the next days, Yoosung spent more time in the library than at home, going back only to shower and sleep. He borrowed Kagome's notes and used them to guide him through the syllabus. LOLOL? Not even once. He only checked the messenger in the morning and before going to bed. Only one thing broke his concentration.

Kagome stood by his side all the time.

She was his silent companion at the library and the one to make him laugh and break the tension of long hours buried in books. He refused her proposition to tutor him. Nevertheless, he wasn't sure if he would have made it without her moral support.

The last exam finally came and gone. Yoosung found Kagome waiting for him at the cafeteria - she handed the test much earlier than him and certainly did well. His soon-to-be girlfriend looked at him expectantly.

"I don't know…" he said, looking down. Kagome frowned, her eyes full of disbelief. "Dinner or movie first?"

"Baka! I almost had a heart attack!"

"Sorry, sorry!" He threw her backpack over his shoulder and linked their arms, blushing at his own sudden boldness. Kagome didn't seem to mind. "You should have seen your face. You're so cute."

"You'll see who's cute," she murmured. "Anyhow, I was thinking… we could… stay at home today… you know… together." The last part came in a whisper.

Yoosung didn't get it at first. "What about our date?"

Kagome's cheeks burned. "We can enjoy our night… as boyfriend and girlfriend." Her grip on his arm tightened. "If you want…"

Did she even have to ask?

[wannawrite]

Let’s Just Laze [ night ver ]

Wanna One’s Bae Jinyoung X Reader [ fem ver ] Fluff bullet-point ver. wanna one masterlist produce 101 masterlist day ver [ coming soon ] • lazy nights with your boyfriend, Bae Jinyoung • just fluffy and pure hello!! finals are taking a toll on me. I’m literally only able to write late at night or on the way to school in the mornings rip lol but I have to do something more productive than sleeping all the time not prepared for finals at all I can just throw myself off a bridge but I hope you like your Baejin fluff sis, @lai-gvanlin !! even if it is in bullet-point - Admin L

🌗 nights with Bae Jinyoung 

• honestly • you don’t know anymore, all you know is that you fell asleep in a really comfortable place • your finals just ended and after days of cramming and endless studying, you’re drained of all energy yet you still agree to go hang out with your boyfriend • luckily, you guys just crash at his place • it’s like 3.30pm? you guys should be going to celebrate by getting milk tea • but it is your Senior year finals and it is just too tiring and it wore you out completely • his parents are overseas for work so the house just holds the two of you • you have no shame • you throw yourself onto Jinyoung’s bed and before you know it, your head droops and your eyes flutter shut • zzzzzzzz • Jinyoung comes back with a glass of water for you only you fast asleep on his bed • the smile on his face • o m g • he’s just super amused and happy you’re finally resting • you deserve to sleep as much as you like without being disturbed so he takes the couch • idk another way to spell cuddles is J i n y o u n g • but at the same time he doesn’t want to disrupt your sleep • he catches zzzzz on the couch • when you open your eyes, it’s pitch dark other than the moonlight shining in from his open window • it takes you a few minutes to recount what happened • you know like that weird feeling when you’re awake but not really • yes, that • you find Jinyoung asleep outside in his living room and lets out a series of ‘aww’s bc why not he’s adorable • you realise neither of you have eaten dinner so dig around in his kitchen, making a mental note to reimburse his parents • but they love you so much they won’t have it. in fact, they’ll probably buy groceries for you • you find a ton of stuff • at first, you aren’t quite sure what to cook and you want to just run to the nearby convenience store to buy instant noodles • but you’re also like ‘f*ck that Jinyoung deserves healthy food’ • ‘I am talent.’ • ‘I scored an A* for home economics Gordon Ramsay is shaking’ • also bc you two are a domestic couple • so wholesome :“) • Jinyoung wakes up to the smell of food cooking in the kitchen and the thinks someone broke into the house • he doesn’t go to investigate because he’s tired • 'Did they break in because they wanted to use my kitchen? They can’t be dangerous.’ • 'They could be boiling a huge pot of water to dunk you in.’ • yup, he’s up and at you • but his anxieties fade when he sees you just out here cooking • lmao I actually can’t cook rip future husband idk how I got that A in home economics • you’re just casually boiling soup and adding carrots in when Jinyoung hops onto the counter • 'Babe, what are you doing?’ • 'Cooking dinner? We both didn’t eat.’ • he laughs and ruffles your hair, 'You know we could have gone out somewhere nice right?’ • you raise your eyebrows and holds up a knife like bOI • 'Are you saying my cooking isn’t good?’ • wh00ps Jinyoung • 'no! No! You don’t have to slave over it. You should have woken me up!’ • lol Jinyoung you sleep too deeply • you shake your head and continue focusing on the food • ’….so what are you making?’ • ’……um you’ll see.’ • Jinyoung offers to help and he does even after your endless protests • guys i had to google what to cook, easy dishes etc can you believe this what a great wife i’ll be • just gonna assume Jinyoung likes traditional Korean food so you’re like bitch let me impress you with my skills I will surprise you we didn’t even learn this in home economics watch me • ’…….is that….sujebi?’ • ’….yes.’ • bc you are a domestic goddess you also made a ton more food • with Jinyoung’s help • tbh he isn’t a terrible cook • very diligent and precise • measures each cube of onion to perfection • this turned into cooking with Jinyoung • Gordon Ramsay who? I only know a Bae Jinyoung • he did like two steps before giving up and considered calling his mother to thank her • love and respect your parents :”) • 'you know Y/N you’ll make a great mother one day’ he says without thinking and then proceeds to melt into the floor • his knife nearly clatters to the floor • you pretend you didn’t hear that but your red face exposes you • 'I’M SORRY!’ • ’…it’s fine.’ • …..Jinyoung leaves the kitchen out of embarrassment • but not before completing his tasks and asking if you need anymore help • you’re good and honestly, you’d probably combust at the sight of Jinyoung being more domestic • like some newlyweds or something • anyway • he proceeds to raid his hidden snack pile in his room and cries into his pillow • poor baby • only shows his face again when he hears the telltale sign of silverware • helps to set the table • still can’t look you in the eye but you’re pretty used to it by now • he’s!! still!! shy!! around!! you!! let!! him!! live!! • you literally pull a Masterchef move and dramatically lift off the cover of the pot • 'voilà’ • me as a chef • he starts taking a lot of pictures and won’t stop thanking you • you?? are?? literally?? perfect?? • wifey material • he’s going to put a ring on you • when he brings out his polaroid camera you’re like 'nO JINYOung STOP THIS’ • takes polaroids anyways • you two talk over dinner • about your day, exams, school, life, weird things like why pizzas are circular but you cut them into triangles, why chairs has the word 'hairs’ in it • then you lounge on the couch while Jinyoung does the dishes • you’re smiling bc it feels like you guys are a real couple now • uGh iDK WHY I’M GETTING EMO • the night is still young • boi wdym it’s like 9pm ?? let me sleep • but you two decide to watch a movie • Ironman becomes Toy Story and then Finding Dory then Me Before You • laughter becomes cries • your head rests on his shoulder and he’s holding you close • lol when will I ever • the movie ends and you two decide to call it a night • after that, you try to untangle yourself from Jinyoung • the time is like wh00ps it’s 2am • Jinyoung goes to get ready for bed and you wait for him in the living room • you send him memes while waiting • he comes back and pretty much insists on you showering and staying over since it’s so late • you don’t really have a say in the matter but it isn’t bad, he uses strawberry scented shampoo • you come out of the shower smelling like fresh strawberries and wrapped up in one of his shirts and spare running shorts • bc you’re always prepared • Jinyoung is prone to melting into the floor pls watch him • he watches you struggle to dry your hair • 'sorry babe but…would you let me help you?’ • you happily agree and surprisingly, he’s really good with hair and styling • considering the fact that he always goes to the salon and never actually does anything by himself • you are pretty impressed by how good he is with the hair brush and hairdryer • towel dries after your hair is only partially damp because he’s scared of drying out your luscious hair completely • also because he has burnt out a hairdryer before and doesn’t want to risk his expensive one • you two lay on his bed, side by side just breathing your own air • for a good hour, he’s tucked into a novel Guanlin recommended while your watching a drama Jisung suggested • the clock strikes 4am and you get a tap on the shoulder • Jinyoung smiles playfully at you, 'babe, let’s do something fun.’ • your suspicion arises but you agree and follows him into the bathroom • he plucks out a whole set of face masks • stick on masks, gel masks, clay masks, wash-off masks, scented masks, coloured masks, stay-on masks • you name it, it’s in that box • 'woah’ • 'wait how did you afford this?’ • Jinyoung blushes, 'it was a sponsor’ • god bless i n n i s f r e e • you two go about selecting whichever masks you want • 'wait babe is your face even big enough for this?’ • 'Y/N STOP THIS’ • there’s even a 'lollipop’ flavoured one how fitting • he helps you apply it prettily and in a n aesthetically pleasing manner • doesn’t do you dirty unlike how Sungwoon was done • sexy bandit lin lin • it actually comes out pretty cute ?? just like in the advertisement • the flash goes off a dozen of times because he takes pictures 'for the memories’ • but really, he’s showing off to the world how he’s pampering his baby through his IG boomerangs • yeah his like 78k followers really needed to see how well you guys are off and keep their thirsty asses in their own lane • since your masks needs 15 minutes to set, you two lay on his bed • a nice peaceful silence settles over the two of you • one of your hands laces with his while the other traces the curves of his face • Jinyoung is g o r g e o u s have fun with that ;) • he just chuckles and admires your beauty from time to time • it’s ethereal • his eyes just stare lovingly into your own and that’s the best part • not to mention his eyes are a little droopy and dreamy • steals a couple of kisses • you love how soft his lips are • thank you innisfree for the A+ lip balm • there isn’t much to do except talk and since it’s past 12am it’s a deep conversation • like really deep • won’t dive into details but it’s about your past, future, aspirations • just supporting and encouraging each other • you’re nearly in tears by the time he ends • you nearly fall asleep again with your mask on when Baejin goes to wash his off • he crosses his arms over his chest and chuckles when he comes back to your sleeping form • Jinyoung knows enough and he knows that not washing your mask off could be a terrible thing • maybe he just wants an excuse to be all tender and loving towards you just let me cry in peace • he attempts to clean off majority of the mask with a wet face towel but has no choice but to wake you up • he clutches you tightly so you don’t fall asleep while cleaning off your mask • 'i’m sorry sweetheart….i’ll cuddle with you later.’ • you pout and sigh, offering out your pinky for him to clasp • Baejin ain’t having it, he just envelopes you in a tight, warm embrace • he loves skinship so much doahdosjaidh • cuddling is a must • legs crossing over • your head rests on his chest while one of his arms wraps around your shoulder • he ends up being the one turning the lights off • it’s reassuring to have him cuddle you, just radiating off love and warmth • he pecks you one last time on the cheek for that day • 'goodnight, my love.’

[dragonasheswrites-blog]

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 11: In Which Dinner is Delivered

...To a very hungry and very confused ambassador.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 10: The Trouble With Letting Go

Next: Chapter 12: In Which Leaves are Crunched

Click here for the story overview.

Sans scrubbed at his bowl, giving a little grin when the cheese sauce came off without too much fuss.  That had been his mistake the first time they made mac ‘n cheese: he’d left the dishes for later, and had wound up getting in trouble with Boss when the sauce took too long to scrub off.

As long as he didn’t think about how much work he was doing it wasn’t too bad, really.  Attie usually followed him around everywhere and insisted on helping, so he didn’t have to do everything himself, either.

“Dry,” he said, handing the bowl off to his helper.  She took it from him, tongue between her teeth, and carefully rubbed a dry dish towel over it.

“Done!” she declared, placing it with over-exaggerated care on top of a small stack of other dishes.  “Can I wash the silverware?”

“Sure,” he said.  He peeled off his rubber gloves (he’d found out the hard way that food, water, and bones don’t mix well) and handed them over.  Attie swapped her towel for the gloves and carefully put them on, stretching her tiny fingers as far as she could into them.

The gloves went up to her elbows and were far too big for her hands, but there wasn’t much she could do to hurt the silverware.  She awkwardly fished a pair of spoons out of the dishwater, rubbed a dishcloth over them until the cheese sauce was gone, and tried to hand them to Sans.

“Rinse ‘em off,” he reminded her.

“Oh!  Right!”  She turned on the water and rinsed them off before handing them back to him for drying.

The little girl bounced impatiently on her toes, splattering tiny droplets of soap water across the kitchen, as Sans put the dry dishes away.  He looked at her for a long moment, tilting his head from one side to the other and tapping his jawbone.

“Ooookay.  I guess we’re done.”

“YAY!!!” The gloves flew off and landed on the floor halfway across the kitchen.  He retrieved them and tossed them back into the sink, listening for the telltale pitter-patter of feet that announced Attie’s presence.

She slid precariously into the dining room and scrambled onto the chair she’d claimed as hers, phone clutched in both hands.  “I can call Mommy now, right?”

“Sure.  But only for a few minutes; you’ve got more homework to do.”

“But it’s Friiiiiday!”

“Yeah, ‘n that means it’s the last day of school for the week.  But remember what Undie said: if you don’t finish on Friiiiiday, you have to do schoolwork on Saaaaaturday.”

Attie groaned in a way Sans knew wasn’t truly serious and dialled.  Her little feet kicked back and forth as she waited.

Her entire body crumpled after a moment, and Sans felt his own mood sink as well.  “She’s not picking up,” Attie said.

“She’s probably asleep again.  She needs lots of rest, remember?”

“Yeah.  But she was awake and talking to me earlier!”

“She sure was, but she might be tired again.  Remember when you woke up in the middle of the night a few days ago?  You went back to sleep after, right?”

“Yeah, but that was the middle of the night .  It’s the middle of the day right now.  Why is Mommy sleeping so much in the middle of the day?”

“You tell me.”

She sighed.  “Because she’s still sick after what the assassin lady did and she needs to sleep so she can heal up all nice and healthy.  That’s what you told me.  I still think she would heal faster if she was awake, though.”

“Do ya, now.”

“Yes.  Also, then I could go see her.”

“Well, let’s finish up the last bit o’ this schoolwork.  I’ll text her like always so she doesn’t worry; I’m sure she’ll text or call or somethin’ when she wakes up.  Okay?”

“Okaaaaay.”

The rest of the school day dragged by for Sans.  It wasn’t so much that the schoolwork was boring (at least, not any more than usual), but that Attie seemed to be entirely unable to focus.  Sans could empathize.  It seemed like a small eternity before she dragged out her paper and pencils and began to half-heartedly scribble some kind of picture for her art project.

Then Sans’s phone vibrated.

“Is it Mommy?”  Attie asked, nearly tripping over her chair in her mad dash for Sans’s seat at the table.

“Woah - hang on there, kid!  Gimme a sec.”  They both stared intently at the phone as the messaging app loaded.  Sure enough, the screen read:

Frisky Dreamer 4:45 PM Sorry I fell asleep.  Didn’t realize I was so tired.

The noise Attie made had his skull ringing.  “Okay, okay, settle down, alright?”

“MY MOMMY’S AWAKE!!!”

“Yeah.  Now do you wanna text her back or should I?”

“We both can!”

Sans sighed.

You 4:49 PM No problem I know the feeling

Frisky Dreamer 4:51 PM Is Attie there?  Is she okay? Oh.  Never mind.  She just texted me.

“Mommy wants to know if we’re both okay!”  Attie said.  “Can I take a picture of you?”

Sans hesitated.  He was absolutely certain that Frisk didn’t want anything to do with him.  “Uh, why don’t I just take a picture of you and send it to her?”

The kid rolled her eyes.  “Because she asked about both of us.  That means we have to send a picture of both of us.”

“Well, you’re outta luck; my phone doesn’t have one of those little cameras on the front.”

“That’s okay!  Mine does!”  She began scrambling up onto Sans’s chair, hampered by the fact that she couldn’t do much to move the skeleton currently sitting in it.

With a low grumble, Sans scooted away from the table far enough to lift Attie into his lap.  “There ya go.  Oh, wait a sec.”  The kid’s pigtails were looking a little lopsided.  He took the hair ties out and carefully re-gathered her hair, making sure not to pull to hard or get the fine strands caught in his phalanges.  “There.  Now you’re extra cute.  Happy?”

“Not yet; I still need to take the picture.  Smile and say ‘cheese!’”

“‘M always smiling, kid.”

She laughed.  “I mean a real smile.”

“You think you can tell the difference?”

“I know I can.  So smile really big like you’re happy, okay?”

He let his mouth fall into his default wide grin as the flash went off.  Attie hummed and examined the picture, frowning.

“That’s not a real smile, Mr. Sans.  We have to try again.”

She did try again.  Several times, in fact.  Finally, she came up with a picture that she declared “okay, but not great” and scooted off his lap to send it to her mother.

Sans caught a glimpse of it and felt his face growing a little red.  He really wasn’t photogenic, being a literal skeleton and all.  He wasn’t even sure what was going on with his mouth in that picture; it looked like he was scowling as much as smiling.

Frisky Dreamer 5:00 PM Not a fan of the camera?

You 5:00 PM SO Can we come visit today or r u 2 tired?

Frisky Dreamer 5:02 PM You can come.  Might want to check with the guards, though. Oh, and why do you use textspeak only half the time?  I know you can text in full sentences.

You 5:07 2 much werk Work

Frisky Dreamer 5:09 PM ...Right. By the way, can I ask a favor?

You 5:11 PM Whats it worth 2 u?

Frisky Dreamer 5:12 PM Add it to my tab. Can you bring some food in? Probably need to sneak it in; the docs don’t like outside food.

You 5:15 PM Uh sure Whaddaya want?

Frisky Dreamer 5:17 PM Something not too rich or smelly.  I’d go for plain bread at this rate.

You 5:19 PM I’ll see what i can do

He looked through the cupboards.  Undyne and Boss had gone on a competitive shopping trip a few days ago so there were groceries, but once again it was an eclectic mix of gourmet noodles and random ingredients he was pretty sure they had selected for the packaging more than the contents.  With a grin on his face, he grabbed a few things from the cupboard and a leftover container from the fridge, then stuck them in his inventory.

“Hey, kid, wanna head out?”

There was a pause, then Attie looked up from her phone. “What?”

“Wanna go see your mom?”

“YES!”  She dashed off to get ready.

A few minutes later they appeared outside Ebott Medical Pavilion, hand in hand.  Attie had adapted well to teleporting over the past week; she barely seemed to notice it anymore.

“You remember the way to your mom’s room?”

She thought for a moment.  “I think so?”

“Go ahead and take us there.”

“But what if I get lost?”

“I’ll be right here; I can ‘port us back outside if we get really stuck.  Okay?”

“...Okay.”

She did pretty well, all things considered.  She went down the wrong hallway after leaving the elevator (it was confusing; the hallways really did all look the same) but she was resourceful enough to correct herself after realizing that the room numbers were wrong.  Finally, they arrived at the new and improved security checkpoint outside Frisk’s room.

“I did it!” she said, bouncing on her toes.

“Yeah.  Great job.”

“Can I give your ID to Mr. Lesser Dog?”

Sans eyed the aforementioned canine, who was wagging his tail hard enough to knock them both over.  “Uh, sure.  Just watch for the-”

Thump.

“...You okay there?”

Attie picked herself back up and dusted off the knees of her jeans.  “I’m fine!”

Lesser Dog whined and leaned over, realizing that he’d hurt one of the few humans he liked.  Attie smiled and reached up on her tiptoes to give him a brief and gentle scratch behind the ears.

Beside him, Doggo shifted in what looked like a nicotine deprivation dance, but Sans knew better.

“Can I pet you too, Mr. Doggo?” the kid asked.

He thought it over for a moment, then leaned over with a long sigh.  Attie giggled.  Sans knew that Doggo wanted to be pet just as much as Lesser Dog did, he just would rather give up dog treats for life than admit it.

Literally.  The question had, actually, come up once or twice.

*Bone friend and little pup good boys,* Lesser Dog woofed, handing Sans back his ID.  *Can go in to see sick momma puppy.*

“Thanks, LD,” Sans said, giving the dog a scratch under his chin.  He snorted when the dog’s neck extended a little.  “You keep a good watch, yeah?”

*Lesser Dog and packmate Doggo will watch very good!  Dogs are good boys!  Won’t let anyone smelly past!  More pets?*

“Maybe on the way out, pal,” he said, steering a giggling Attie into the hospital room.  He didn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time they’d seen Lesser Dog on duty; it had taken hours to get his neck back to a reasonable length, and he’d been growling and snapping at everyone in sight the whole time.

Frisk, thankfully, was still awake.  “Made it past the attack dogs?” she asked with a smirk.

“Yyyup!”  Attie said, bouncing on her toes.

“C’mere, you.”

Attie ran at her mother, skidding to a stop just short of the hospital bed before gingerly crawling onto it to give her a hug.  “I missed you,” she mumbled into Frisk's shoulder.

“I missed you too, baby boo.”

They sat like that for a moment, and Sans shifted awkwardly.  He felt like he was intruding.

There was a funny rumbling noise, and Frisk’s face started to turn pink.  Sans grinned; after living with a little human shadow for a week and a half, he knew that sound.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Maybe.  A little.”

Sans dug into his inventory and, with an elaborate flourish, pulled out a plastic fork and…

“...Tuna?”  Frisk’s voice was almost a full octave higher than normal.  She looked a little sick.  “I ask for something bland and low-profile, and you bring me...a can of tuna.”

“I cod not pass up the opportunaty."

Attie wiggled off the bed and stomped over to her babysitter.  “Mr. Sans, stop being silly with my mommy!”

“Heh.  Sorry, kid.”  He patted her right between her pigtails, then put the can back in his inventory.  After a moment of poking around, he withdrew the leftover container.  “Wanna show your mom what you made?”

“Yes!”  She grabbed the container and the fork he offered her and presented them both to her mother.  “We made macncheese, like I told you.  I think this is our best one yet!  We had to go to the store last night for extra cheese because Mr. Boss doesn’t like to buy cheese, so it’s suuuper fresh!”

“The only bread we had in the house was hot dog buns,” he explained, shrugging.

Frisk gave him a long look, carefully opened the container, and grinned.  “It looks great, Attie.  Thank you so much!”

“You’re so welcome!  Mr. Sans helped, too.  You should say ‘thank you so much’ to him, too.”

Sans opened his mouth to say that it really wasn’t necessary, but-

“Thank you so much, Sans.”

“Heh.  It’s nothin’.”

“I mean it.  Thank you, Sans.  Thank you for everything.  Including, of course, the mac and cheese.”

His eye sockets met hers, and he felt a jolt of...something.  Surprise, definitely.  Frisk...she hated him, right?  Heck, he deserved it!  But..she looked really, genuinely grateful.  When was the last time someone (besides Attie) had thanked him?  “I...uh, you’re welcome.”

They both looked away at the same time.

“Mommy?”  Attie piped up.  “Why is your face all pink like you’re embarrassed?”

“Um…”

“Oh!  Do you wanna kiss Mr. Sans?”

“ATLAS HOPE DREEMURR!”

Sans pulled the hood of his jacket up, knowing full well it wasn’t nearly as effective as he hoped.  This kid…

“Is that a ‘no?’  Undie says the blushing thing means you’re embarrassed or you want to kiss someone.”

Frisk gave a noise that sounded like a growl and took a few quick bites of the mac ‘n cheese.  “This is really great,” she said, a touch too loudly.  “You’ve gotten really good at this, Attie.”

The kid gave a devious little smile.  “Thanks,” she said, patting her mother’s hand.  “It’s okay.  You don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready.”

Sans coughed.  “Attie, listen to yer mom.”

“But she didn’t tell me to do anything!”

“Didn’t you ask me not to tease ‘er?  She’s still sick.  Stop bein’ so…” he waved a hand in the general direction of the woman he was not looking at.  “...silly.”

Attie sighed.  “Okay.  Sorry, Mommy, for embarrassing you.  Sorry to you also, Mr. Sans.”

“‘Tsokay.”

“You’re forgiven.”  Frisk dug into the mac ‘n cheese with the air of someone desperately hungry, but wanting to make her food last.

“We can make more,” Attie said, watching her mother closely.  “I didn’t know your tummy was so empty or we could have made some more before we left.  Right, Mr. Sans?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“But we didn’t know.  Mr. Sans said they would probably give you some sugar ‘n stuff through the bag thingies, and that you would get enough water that way, but I don’t think that counts as eating for real.”

Frisk hummed.  “I agree.  This is much more pleasant.”

Sans coughed into his hand.  “So why’d you want us to bring ya food?  Don’t they feed you here?”

“Well...yes.  It’s just...hmm.”  She took a few more bites, eyes narrowed in thought.  “Do you know my doctor?  Dr. Ray?”

“Yeah...I’ve met ‘im.”

“What’s your opinion?”

He looked at her, not sure where this was going.  Why was she being so...friendly?  Was this a trap?  Frisk could switch from friendly to aggressive very quickly when she wanted to.  “I.  Uh.  He’s a doctor?”

“Your honest opinion.  I think...well, I want to hear what you think of him.”

He sighed.  “I think the guy’s an asshole.  He doesn’t think much’ve other folks; doesn’t seem like it’s aimed at monsters particularly, though.  He just doesn’t like people he thinks are...hmm.  Lesser than him?  ‘M not sure how he decides that - education level, maybe? - but if you don’t fit his criteria, he thinks you’re basically worthless.

“He might not be aware of it.  He certainly thinks he’s right all - or at least most - of the time, and being aware of such a huge character flaw would puncture his ego.  He probably just thinks that he knows better than other people, and they should listen to him because he’s a doctor.  He seems alright at his job for all that; it’s probably a point of pride to do well.”

Frisk nodded.  “Do you think he’s a liar?  What reason would someone like him have to lie?”

“Depends on the lie.”  He studied her face.  She looked...wary.  What did all this have to do with food?  Had someone threatened her?  At least she could defend herself, probably better than he could...now that she was conscious, anyways.  “He might lie to protect himself or his job.  If he made a mistake, he might want to cover it up.  Doesn’t strike me as the type to lie for someone else, though, unless it suited his purposes or helped him somehow.”

“So you don’t think he’s malicious.”

“Not unless you’re a threat to him.  What he’d do if he thought you were tryin’ to hurt his reputation or upstage him…’m not sure.  But in general?  Like I said, guy’s an asshole.  ‘Course, I haven’t had any huge soul-searching conversations with the guy.  Could be completely wrong ‘bout him.”

“I don’t think so.”  She laid her fork into the empty container firmly.  “Sans, I haven’t given you enough credit.  You really are a lot more observant than you think.  I appreciate your input on this.”

He shuffled his feet a little.  It wasn’t...it was just how he was, how he’d survived so long on his own with a little brother to look after, not anything special.  “Tch…’ts nothin’.  What’s all this about?  And what’s it got to do with food?”

“Dr. Ray was acting strangely when I first woke up this afternoon.  I pressed the call button and he walked in instead of one of the nurses.  He told me that I’d been unconscious due to an accidental overdose.  He followed that up by being weirdly insistent that I eat, and...call me paranoid, but I didn’t trust him not to ‘accidentally’ add something extra to my food.”

His grip on his magic slid a little, and he felt his eye burn.  An accident?  Attie had been separated from her mother, unsure of whether she’d live or die...and the doctor was calling it an accident??

He couldn’t believe it.  And from the look on Frisk’s face, she didn’t believe it either.

“Calm down,” she said.  “There’s nothing we can do now.  He said that the matter was being handled, and that it wouldn’t happen again.  Of course, then he tried to take my phone.”

“What?  Why would he do that?”

“Consider this.  If you’re right, and he was trying to protect himself - his reputation, his job, whatever - he wouldn’t want me communicating with people who knew the truth, at least until he could run damage control.  Make sure he got his story straight. I assume someone does know the truth?”

“Uh, yeah.  Attie ‘n I were just leavin’ when you were...attacked.”

“Wait, so I was attacked?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No!”

Attie gave a wet sniffle.  “It was really scary.  There was an assassin lady and somehow she got past the dogs, but she was wearing the nurse clothes.  Sponges?”

“Scrubs,” he corrected.

“Right.  She was wearing the nurse scrubs, but she was on your bed and you were trying to get her off of you and she put some kind of poison medicine into your bags.  Then she started fighting Mr. Sans even though you told him not to fight her, but I think that’s okay because he didn’t let me get hurt.  Not even a little bit!”

Frisk looked at her daughter for a long moment, gripping her arms like she wasn’t sure the kid was really in one piece.  Then she looked over at Sans.  “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

He did.  He explained how he’d tried to contact Frisk on the day of the incident, but how she’d been unresponsive most of the day and asleep when they’d arrived.  He told her how they’d been kicked out of the room by the nurse.  He considered telling her that the nurse had made him uneasy, but...he didn’t want to make it sound like he was some kind of hero.

Instead, he played up Attie’s concerns: how she’d been worried, and had insisted they go back to the room.  The actual fight he described as factually as he could: the order of events, what he knew of the nurse’s movements, and the arrival of the dogs.

Frisk nodded along, looking a little overwhelmed.  “I...don’t remember any of that,” she said, finally.  “I remembered weird flashes of emotion, but nothing detailed or reliable.  I mostly just recall...burning?”  She rubbed her arm above where the needles were taped to her arm.

“I believe it.  Alphys ‘n some of the human doctors are still tryin’ to figure out everything that was in that bag the nurse hooked you up to.  They think she may’ve dosed you with something over time as well, but gotten impatient when it didn’t work as fast as she wanted.”

“She was a nurse, then.”

“Yeah.  ‘M kinda out of the loop, but I did a little digging on my own.  She was employed by the hospital as of three weeks ago, at least.”

“How do you know?”

“The local paper ran a story about the hospital and she was one of the nurses interviewed.  Gave her name as Graciela Lira, though I heard rumors that might not be her real name.  ‘Ts hard to tell; she apparently was a foster kid at some point, so her paper trail’s a bit hard to follow.  No one expected her to go after you, though.”

“Interesting.  Let me guess: she’s a monster specialist.”

“Worse.  Monster pediatric specialist.”

Frisk gripped Attie a little tighter.  “And...they still let her practice here?”

“Well, not right now.  Attie ‘n I saw the whole thing, as did Alphys’s security cameras; whatever the hospital told Undyne, she pushed back hard with evidence.  She’s got the nurse - whatever her name is - in custody.”

“Good.  I wouldn’t want someone like that around children.”

This was definitely outside Sans’s comfort zone.  It was almost like they were allies or something.  Granted, Frisk was probably still high on painkillers, but she wasn’t being nearly as aggressive as she usually was, even after his little joke earlier with the can of tuna.

Was this how Ambassador Frisk Dreemurr treated people she could actually stand to be around?  If so, he wanted to-

-DEFINITELY not do anything, especially after Attie’s stupid comments earlier.

He coughed.  “Well, hopefully you, uh, don’t go through that again.  The Guard’ll hold her until you feel better so you can interrogate her yourself.”

“...The human government is just letting this happen?”

“Yeah, not sure why.  My guess is they want something from us; your mom’s been in meetings all day, every day.”

It was traditional among monsters for the victim of an attack (or, in the case of a child, the victim’s guardian) to be the chief interrogator when bringing the attacker to justice.  The human government tended to frown on the practice, what with the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ thing they believed in, but they had been strangely accommodating in this case.  Either there was something about this lady that would’ve been dragged to light in a human court system or they were using her as a bargaining chip to get what they wanted out of Tori.  The Queen of Monsters was notoriously vindictive towards anyone who harmed her family, to the point where it clouded her judgement.

“...Sans?”

“Hmm?  Sorry.  Just...thinkin’.”

“Anything important?”

It still sat oddly with him that Frisk - of all people - was asking for his input.  “Just...theories.  Can’t prove anything.  It just...nothing about this seems right.  The timing of the attack, the way it was planned, the person who carried it out...and now what that doctor told you; it doesn’t add up.”

“If it was planned, it was done quickly.  Very quickly.  Either that, or…well.”

Or she didn’t really have appendicitis.  It was unlikely, from what he read, but still.  Either situation was worrying. Was it easier to induce a medical condition or to organize an assassination attempt in a matter of days?

“Are you done with grown-up talk?”  Attie asked, wiggling impatiently on the bed.

Frisk laughed.  “For now.  Sorry.”

“Can I show you my pictures?  I made you a whole lot while you were sleeping.”

“Sure!  Show me what you’ve got.”

It took almost a full hour for Attie to go through all the pictures she’d made.  Most of them, to Sans’s eternal embarrassment, featured him in some way.  And of course, each one had a story.

“This is Mr. Sans when he accidentally put his shirt on inside out and backwards because he was so sleepy.  You can see the tag on the front.  Oh!  And this is when we went to the park with Undie, and Mr. Sans tried to swing and fell off.  That’s why he’s on the ground.  I thought he was hurt, but he wasn’t.  This one is Mr. Sans and I drinking our juice after training.  It tastes reeeeeally bad…”

And so on.

“All of them look wonderful,” Frisk said after Attie had arranged the pictures back into a stack.  “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Me too.  I was worried I’d miss you a lot, and I did, but it was also fun doing schoolwork with Mr. Sans.  He knows a lot ‘bout science!  Do you think he can help me with my science sometimes after you’re better?”

Sans tensed.  As busy as he’d been, he’d almost forgotten that Attie wasn’t going to be in his life forever.  Frisk was going to heal, then she’d take her daughter home.  And he’d probably never see either of them again outside official functions.  After all, he’d seen Attie only two or three times in seven years, not including the time she’d been living with him.

All Frisk said was, “We’ll see.”

Which, in his experience, pretty much meant “no.”

It didn’t matter, he told himself as Attie chattered on about something.  He hadn’t even wanted to watch the kid in the first place.  He’d be glad when she was gone.

Well, he amended, not glad.  A week ago he would’ve been happy to see her go; but after so many nights of worry and nightmares, and so many days of tutoring and kitchen accidents, he’d maybe gotten a little...attached.

That really wasn’t good, under the circumstances.

A knock on the door interrupted Attie’s story of something Undyne had done the other morning.  He knew the routine well enough to know who it was.  “Time to go,” he said, collecting the empty container from dinner.  “Say good-bye to your mom.”

Attie sighed.  “Good-bye, Mommy.”

“Good-bye, Attie,” her mother responded.  “I’ll miss you.”

“I know.  But I’ll be back tomorrow!”

There was a strange look on Frisk’s face when they left; something resigned and a little sad.  She hid it well, but Sans was a master of reading expressions.

He just didn’t know what to make of it.

[kaikamahine]

hiii, oh gosh, for once online when you reblog one of these

SALV MY DARLING THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE. You are always welcome to leave me prompts even if we’re not online simultaneously!!

Also, did anyone ask for a witch!AU? Because here u go.

*

5: Nail polish, silver rings, boots made for jumping in puddles

When Peridot was younger, and hadn’t yet learned that her perfect, reasonable, logical, brilliant mother could be wrong, they had a square patch of dirt between their front porch and the fence where their neighbors – with their identical patches – all grew scrappy blue fescue and tried to squeeze in Fisher Price playsets.

“What are we going to do with it?” she asks, clinging to the arm of her mother’s chair and holding very still, both wanting attention and terrified of it, too.

Slowly, her mother pulls her head up. Everything she does is deliberate, precise, no movement wasted. “We’ll make it a weapon,” she decides.

And that’s how Peridot grows up with a garden.

(”Dude, how is a garden a weapon?” Amethyst goes.

“Ugh! Against the bourgeoise, Ames, don’t you know anything? Refusing to have a lawn and commit to the expense of its noisy, unproductive upkeep fights the capitalist agenda!”

“Wow, I didn’t know tomatoes were that powerful,” Steven says. “That adds a whole new meaning to the word ‘superfood’!”)

*

Monitoring the garden’s growth became Peridot’s job, year after year. She snipped buds, staked tomatoes when they got leggy, collected seeds into folding sachets to restart next spring, canvassed the neighborhood after heavy rain to collect earthworms to smash up in the compost, smeared the fence with rancid garlic and chilies to keep the rabbits and raccoons and opportunistic teenagers out.

“Are you a greenwitch?” the neighbor’s girl asks her, peering through the chainlink gate. She’s got a bicycle helmet with flames painted on the sides and two Power Rangers band-aids protecting a scrape on her elbow, and Peridot is painfully jealous of how cool both those things are.

She sits back on her heels. “No, I just work hard,” she says, and then, because it’s that time of year when everything happens at once, “Hey, does your mom want any zucchini?”

*

Her mother gets news from Blue’s coven the week of Peridot’s fourteenth birthday, two months into the new school year. She uproots them and moves them north that same week, a heaving disruption in Peridot’s life like it’s rolling over and sloughing its skin.

“But - “ she tries, and her mother’s knuckles whiten over a rune, eyes coming up to cut at Peridot in that familiar way; why can’t I whittle you to a convenient size.

She says, “Do you have something to say?”

“No, ma’am,” Peridot ducks.

She doesn’t know anything about the north. She doesn’t even own winter gear - just her worm-hunting galoshes, with the ladybugs on them. And her mother won’t let her take those.

There’s no room in the car for sentimentality, so don’t waste our time. Only take what can’t be repurchased.

The spellbooks go into boxes, the rowan rings into bins with the maps the other covens lent them, and the warded topaz bottles get wrapped in cheesecloth to keep their contents calm during the car ride. Her mother hires Jasper to pack the car; she’s the starting quarterback whose trophies are behind glass in the hall where Peridot has - had - her locker. She’s more Arizona-colored than Peridot imagines the entire state of Arizona to be, and whenever her mother has to touch her, she immediately wipes her fingers on the pleats of her pants after.

“I hate it when witches bury themselves in someone else’s grave,” is all she says, inspecting her fingertips like she expects them to still be slimy, like Jasper’s gone-off, rotten all the way through. “Such a waste.”

The night before they leave, Peridot sneaks out the front door.

She starts with a pair of pruners, but those aren’t fast enough, so she resorts to her bare hands; the beans come up first, then the peppers, and the tomatoes as tall as their house, the sunflowers as big as satellite dishes shedding seeds for the birds. It’s the end of September, and Peridot had been looking forward to the weeks of canning ahead of her, pickling everything that could conceivably be pickled and adding them to the neat rows of salsa she made the month before.

When she’s done, the cement is littered with clumps of soil, naked roots, stems jackknifed out of their plots, and she breathes hard, looks at her hands, thinks: gravedirt, and, more accurately: grief.

In the morning, her mother walks over the carnage and doesn’t once look up from her phone.

*

(“LEAVE ME ALONE,” she shouts through the door, then scrabbles across the tile and pulls the shower curtain closed. “GO. AWAY.”

A hasty discussion happens in the hallway.

“- and that makes her just like us,” Steven’s voice comes out the loudest. “Come on!”

More muttering, and then Steven’s back, politely rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Okay, Peridot, you can stay there,” he calls. “There’s towels in the cabinet over the toilet. They’re pretty fluffy to sleep on, it’ll be fun! Oh! And can you water the plant, maybe?”

“The plant?” Peridot blinks, and looks around, and blinks again.

A pot sits on a ledge over the sink, sprouting tendrils in every direction that trail green, arrowhead leaves half-way to the floor. Curious, Peridot crawls over to inspect it, keeping her one remaining boot tucked possessively under her arm.

“What’s its function?” she asks, caught despite her best efforts.

“Uhh, I don’t … know?” Steven tries. “We don’t use it for spells, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Peridot’s brows come down. “Then what’s the point?”

A pause.

“There doesn’t have to be a point, Peridot,” Steven tells her, treading very carefully. “It just likes it in there. The low light and the humidity from the shower are good for it, and in return, it recycles our air. That’s a function, I guess.”

“You need to be more productive than just recycling air.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty good at it,” and then Steven laughs, and Peridot touches a fingertip to one soft, green leaf. Her stomach knots itself up so complicated it probably deserves a boy scout badge: homesickness, earned.)

*

(”You know what this means, right!” Steven flings himself bodily down on top of her, somehow managing to squeeze her in a hug despite her greatest attempts to dead weight him into letting her go. “You’re one of us! You’re a Crystal Gem now!”

“Whether you like it or not,” Garnet adds, and her smile somehow even manages to reach her third eye, faintly illuminated over the skin between her eyebrows.)

*

(Amethyst props her hands on her hips. Hanging from her neck, the deep-cut pendant from which she got her name still glows from use, nestled against her breastbone.

”Okay, what’s really wrong with it?” she demands.

“I can’t do it,” Peridot says flatly.

Steven and Amethyst exchange a look. Peridot can feel it, the nonverbal discussion happening. She hunches her shoulders.

Her feet are sandy from the boardwalk, the toes bright green. Amethyst and Pearl had been painting their nails while waiting for the witch hazel to steep, and Peridot wanted in - she’d never done it before, since the fumes always gave her mother a headache. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. With runny eyes, she scrunches up her toes and starts dragging them on the cement, trying to get the paint to chip.

“You can’t - “

“Do magic,” Peridot snaps. “I can’t. I’m not a witch at all. Not in any way that matters.”)

*

She can’t do charms and wards like Steven, or transfiguration like Amethyst, and she definitely can’t do that elite-class elemental spellwork Lapis fires off without giving a shit. She’s not a (renegade) white-witch like Pearl, or a battle-witch like Garnet. She can’t even do necromancy like Jasper, and any idiot with half a brain can do necromancy - Jasper went and swore an oath to some coven leader Peridot never met, then never bothered to sever that bond when she went and got her throat cut. Honestly, and you wonder why the Diamond covens want to control all magic.

*

She’s seventeen, living in the north. She sleeps under the window in the barn, and it’s the best place she has ever lived. 

There aren’t any herbs drying from racks suspended from the ceiling (honestly, she’d like to see you try to avoid banging your head into those when you’re returning several day’s worth of dishes to the kitchen at three in the morning) and no jars of fermenting spells on the shelves, no crystals recharging and no chalk lines to worry about accidentally scuffing and ruining when making that aforementioned shame-trip to the kitchen. The plastic bins aren’t full of rotten ingredients or misbehaving charms winding down their half-life, but perfectly reasonable things, like wrenches, toilet bowl cleaner, and Lapis’s twelve different pairs of the same black jeans. (Although not in the same bin.)

It’s not like anywhere Peridot’s ever been before.

It’s wonderful.

“You’re not a very witchy witch,” she says to Lapis.

Lapis lifts one cobalt-blue headphone off her ear, and from where she’s standing Peridot can hear the tinny feedback. She can’t make out the melody, but she’ll bet three dollars and half a donut that it’s Hybrid Theory. Theoretically, there’s a limit on how many times a person can listen to “Crawling,” but Peridot feels that if she pointed that out, Lapis would just take it as a challenge. She’s twice Peridot’s age and walks around with a near-permanent expression that says I have seen some shit, just try me.

“If I got a familiar,” Lapis says dryly. “Would that make you feel better?”

Peridot perks up.

*

She teaches herself how to play the recorder by watching YouTube, and the look on Amethyst’s face the first time she demonstrates convinces her she probably should have tried the harmonica instead. The look on Steven’s face tells her she probably shouldn’t have used his roaming data to do it.

“Here,” he says sympathetically, and plants his ukelele in her lap. “Do you think you can name the notes if we play a scale?”

“Of course I can,” Peridot responds haughtily, and touches her fingertips to the spellwork etched into the wood.

(Everything Steven owns comes steeped in generations’ worth of magic and love, all patiently waiting for Steven to grow into them.)

(She wonders if this is what having a family is like: a place you go where the love is already in your size, just waiting for you to pick it up and put it on: I am a person Steven loves. She wonders if they know she has it waiting for them, too, whenever they want to wear it: I am a person Peridot loves.)

She keeps herself busy - with music, with the barn, with the unusual breathless hitch in her chest at the way the heavy silver of Lapis’s thumb ring looks against her dark skin, with coming up with solutions to things that aren’t really problems. Steven and his dad take her to the mall to get her a phone, which turns out to be like her mother’s scry stone but with faster Internet connection. The common misconception about magic is that it’s somehow cheating, the lazy way out, but Peridot grew up in a witch’s house and knows exactly how much hard work it takes.

Furtively, she takes cuttings from Steven’s bathroom plant, and then from a monstrous leathery green thing in the laundromat, and an aloe plant sitting in a grocery store display with sunscreen and Solarcaine, and before long has several small pots lining the windowsill as the cuttings take root. The sight of them makes her feel better instantly.

“I still don’t feel like I’m doing anything productive,” she tells Amethyst, who’s got her tongue stuck between her teeth in concentration, picking at the stenciling of the tiny spaceships she’s painting on Peridot’s nails.

Amethyst snorts derisively. “You’re living, P-dot. Life is here to be consumed.”

“Easy for you to say,” Peridot fires back. “I saw you put mayo on your cereal the other day!”

“Exactly! And if I wasn’t here to do that, who would have done it? If you weren’t here, who would tell me everything there is to know about Camp Pining Hearts?”

Peridot swells up. “OKAY BUT - “

*

Here’s the thing about magic.

No wait.

*

Here’s the thing about love:

It comes up like a garden grown out of heartstrings and ribs, and you can spend so much time cultivating it, caring for it, but you’ll never really know if you’ll suddenly have to uproot it, or if you can trust its care to anyone else because so many people come in with good intentions but black thumbs.

But to try -

It’s so brave, just trying; the hope that you’ll get sunflowers as big as satellites turning their faces to the sun, and you’ll have enough love left over that you’ll have to go door to door just to share it all. Peridot grew up in a house with no room for waste. She never knew she had this capacity.

Her mother was wrong.

The earth was never a weapon.

*

Silence lands on them with deafening force.

Steven’s jaw hangs open, and Lapis’s eyes make shocked smears of blue in her face. Peridot trembles.

Amethyst recovers first, her voice revving up, “Perrrrrrr-i-doooooooooot!”

She whoops and pumps the air with her fist.

“LOOK! Look at what you did!”

Peridot tilts her phone towards her, disbelieving.

Spell charged, the screen reads. Would you like to share on Facebook? A minute vibration travels through the phone case into Peridot’s hand. 

Magic, she thinks. My magic.

“I did it,” she says softly, in wonder. Then, louder, “I did it! Wait, what did I do?”

“I think,” and that’s Garnet, materializing behind them in that premonitory way she has. She’s smiling. “You made something entirely new.”

*