#i need you to know how to actually run this booth in case the other staff person who's taking over for me has to idk go to the bathroom!!

[skeilig]

not to always state fair post but I have like 12 different volunteers who each work one 4 hour shift and I overlapped with this one woman for literally 1 hour today and she was driving me so insane she kept telling me things I needed to change about our exhibit and when I gave her the "we've been doing it this way for 5 years it's fine" runaround she told me I'm the reason why systemic change doesn't happen lmfao??? So then I told her listen lady I am so burnt out from doing the fair for 5 years with barely any real help so THAT'S why systemic change doesn't happen and then she said oh I didn't know that and offered to call my boss and tell him I'm doing a good job KFHSKGJA girl thanks but he knows

[specialagentlokitty]

Booth x reader - close call

You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were standing next to Booth, the next you were stood there, completely frozen in your spot.

He didn’t seem to notice you weren’t following him anymore, and you stumbled back a few steps while he stepped forward to the body of the person who had shot at you.

“B..booth…” you mumbled.

“What?”

He slowly approached the corner, and you placed a hand over your side, putting as much pressure on the wound as you could.

“Where’s Brennan?” You asked.

“She should be up ahead, go back and send uniforms down here when they get here!”

You nodded your head, turning around to head back towards the entrance of the building.

You stumbled a few steps, catching yourself on the doorway.

Standing up, you pushed yourself out of the building, and you walked a few steps to the side, spitting some blood on to the floor.

Pulling your hand away, you looked at your bloody hand, placing it back on the wound and you turned around as you heard shouting of your name.

“You could’ve gotten Bones killed!” Booth snapped.

You opened your mouth but closed it again, turning your attention to the ground instead.

“You gave us all away, and put someone in the line of fire!”

Booth marched over, fury in his eyes as he stared at you.

“Booth!”

He stopped, turning around to Brennan who ran over to him, pointing to the floor.

He saw the droplets of blood, some spots seemed to have more than others, showing where you had stopped and then carried on walking.

“He wasn’t aiming for me Booth.” Brennan said quietly.

“Call for backup, now! And get whatever we need to keep (Y/N) alive!”

Booth ran over to you, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, and you grabbed him arm.

He could hear your pained breathing, and he could feel your hand trembling.

“Hey.. hey you’re okay…”

You slumped against him, and he quickly lowered you to the floor, resting your back against his chest.

“Woah, easy. Okay..”

Booth looked down at you, bringing his hand up to cover yours, putting more pressure on your wound.

His other hand came up, and he paced it on your shoulder, wrapping you in a kind of hug, holding you closely against himself.

“You’re okay… it’s okay…” he whispered.

“I..I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry…”

Booth rested his chin on your head.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…” he whispered.

He looked up to where Brennan was in by the car digging through some things.

“Bones hurry up!”

He looked at his hand over yours, and the amount of blood in his skin.

“(Y/N) keep talking to me, keep talking okay… stay awake for me..”

You didn’t reply, and he moved to the side a little bit to look at you.

Blood seeping from your lips, eyes closed and your body nearly falling to the ground.

“No, no, no, (Y/N)?”

Booth gently shook you.

“(Y/N)!”

Booth didn’t know what to do, and he looked up to Brennan who was running back with everything.

“Bones help me!” He yelled.

“Lay her down!” Brennan yelled.

He did as he was told and carefully laid you on your back, and he fell down, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

Sitting on his knees, he brought a trembling hand to your face, placing his palm on your cheek, running a thumb along your skin.

“Booth I need you to hold here.”

Brennan took his hands and pressed them firmly over the wound, and she began CPR on you.

It didn’t seem like long, but for Booth it felt like forehead until help arrived and you were taken away.

He rushed to the hospital and he stood in the waiting room alone, covered in your blood until he was dragged away to finish the case.

But as soon as the actual killer confessed, booth was straight back to the hospital to get any information about your condition that he could.

“Booth! How is she?” Angela asked.

“I.. I don’t know, nobody will tell me anything, it’s been hours since she was admitted.”

“Just give them time Seeley.” Cam sighed.

He slammed his hand on the desk.

“I don’t have time!”

“You blame yourself, that’s okay. But this isn’t your fault, there was nothing you could have done to stop that man firing at (Y/N), getting angry won’t make them give you news any faster.” Sweets said.

Booth glared at the younger man, and he made his way back outside, sitting on the curb in front of the hospital.

Booth ran a hand down his face, tears burning his eyes, and he cleared his throat a little bit, blinked a few times to clear the tears.

He stayed outside for a few moments before he stood up, heading back inside.

They all sat waiting for any update on you.

“You can’t blame yourself man.” Hodgins whispered.

“It’s my fault, she shouldn’t have even been there. I should’ve known not to bring her.” Booth said lowly.

“Come on, you know (Y/N) wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Sweets said.

“What if she doesn’t make it…?” He asked.

Everybody looked at him but nobody knew what to say to him. They didn’t know how to comfort him, because how did you comfort somebody who was waiting to find out if someone they cared about died or not.

And that’s all he was thinking about.

What if you died?

Booth looked at his hands, and all he could see was your blood staining his skin even though he scrubbed them over and over again.

Sure, he’d had blood on his hands before, but knowing your blood had literally been on his hands was different.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?”

Everybody stood up, and booth was at the front of everybody.

“It’s been hours, why haven’t anybody given us any updates?” He asked.

“Because we haven’t been able to give one with any certainty.”

“I can’t care what you do or don’t have, when the FBI asked for an update you give them a damn update!” Booth yelled.

“Woah, okay. Maybe let’s not yell at the doctors trying to save our friend.” Angela said.

Booth stared at the doctor who took an unsure step backwards.

“Sorry… we uh.. honestly right now it doesn’t look good. The bullet was a clean shot, but (Y/N) didn’t fall, she walked, and it moved the bullet meaning it caused more damage, and some of the fragments went elsewhere. We’re doing all we can and I’ll come with another update soon.”

With that he ran away and booth went back to his feet, staring his hands as he waited.

Hours passed and finally the doctor came back out.

“We’ve got her stable, but she’s still critical. There was a lot of damage but right now things are looking good.”

Everybody was taken to your room, and while the others stood around your bed, Booth stood on the other side of the room watching you.

You were unnaturally pale, you still had dirt and dried blood on your face.

“Booth…?” Brennan asked.

He shook his head and walked away.

When he came back, everybody had gone, and he set his bag down in the chair opening it.

He pulled out some wipes and he walked over, taking one out of the pack and he sat on the bed next to you.

He reached out, his hand shaking a little bit, and he stopped himself.

Taking a deep breath, he worked at carefully cleaning your skin of the dirt and the dried blood.

When he was done, he cleaned your hands and arms, and he went through his bag again.

He pulled out some of the things he took from your office, your favourite photo, your favourite cushion, and a few other things to decorate the room.

Walking back over, he lifted your head and placed the cushion under it, sitting next to you again.

“I know you can’t sleep without it…” he mumbled.

Booth brushed some hair from your face, leaning forward he kissed your head head, laying himself next to you on the hospital bed.

It wasn’t the best sleep he had ever had, but every night he would go to your hospital room and sleep there.

Two weeks had passed, and just like always Booth walked into the room, stretching a little bit to see that your bed was empty.

“(Y/N)?”

He looked around, then ran towards the nurses station.

“Where is she?!”

“Who?”

“The woman in that room! Where did she go?!”

Another nurse walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s gone for physio, just like she has for the past few days.”

Booth furrowed his brows and he looked at the nurse.

“How long?”

“She’s been awake maybe a week now, doing physio for a few days, she’s actually coming down the hallway now.”

Booth turned around to see you slowly walking down the hallway, and when you saw him you immediately turned your head towards the floor.

He walked over to the doctor.

“I’ve got it.”

He placed your hand on his arm, slowly helping you back to your room.

He said nothing as he helped sit down, and he covered you up with the blanket.

“You’ve been awake for a week.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You didn’t think to tell me you’ve been awake?!” He hissed.

“I.. I thought you would stop coming..”

Booth furrowed his brow and looked at you confused.

“Do you want me to stop coming..?”

You said nothing and Booth made his way towards the door.

“No!”

He stopped.

“I… don’t want to sleep alone Booth..”

He sighed, turning around he walked back over and he laid next to you again.

You rested your head next to his shoulder, and watched as he flicked through channels on the TV.

“I thought if you knew I was awake you’d stop coming…”

“No, of course not. If you asked me I would’ve carried on sleeping here.”

He placed his arm over your head and he tapped you trying to move your head.

“Move your head.”

You lifted it and he put his arm under your head so you could rest on it.

Neither of you said anything for a few moments, and Booth noticed how your hand clung to your injury, as if trying to stop it from bleeding.

Reaching out he placed his hand over yours.

“Hey… it’s okay… you’re not bleeding..”

“I can’t help it..”

Booth ran his thumb along your knuckles.

“I know… but you know what, you’re going to be okay, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

You looked up at him.

“It hurts when I move…”

Booth looked down at you, smiling a little.

“Yeah, yeah getting shot will do that to you. But trust me, in a few months you won’t even feel a thing.”

You stared at him for a moment.

“Why did you keep coming here…? I thought you were pissed at me..?”

“No. I mean yes okay I was pissed, but you were shot.”

You stared up at him with furrowed brows and he sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead on yours and you closed your eyes.

“I was scared I lost you…”

“I’m sorry I messed up…”

He pulled away and you looked at him.

“No, you didn’t mess up. Okay? I shouldn’t have been so angry, I should’ve checked on you straight away, and I should’ve told you I loved you.”

“W..what…?”

Booth leant down, carefully pressing his lips to yours and then he pulled away.

“I love you…”

You leant forward, quickly leant forward, kissing him again and he leant into the kiss.

When he went to pull away you leant up, only to groan in pain and lay back down.

“Take it easy.. relax… you need to stay laid down..”

He smiled and covered you back up with the blanket, laying down and you rested your head on his chest, laying on your good side.

Booth reached his out his hand, placing it over your wound.

“You don’t have to keep holding it, it’s okay, it’s not bleeding okay? I won’t let anything happen, just go to sleep.”

“You’ll make sure I don’t bleed out?”

Booth smiled a little bit.

“Yeah, yeah of course I will, I would never let you bleed out.”

You smiled to yourself, taking his free hand so you can hold it, and it wasn’t long before you drifted asleep.

Just like he said, he kept his hand on your side, even when he fell asleep as well, making sure that you weren’t bleeding.

You were scared, and he knew that, and if he had to lay there holding your bandage covered sighed so you could some sleep then that’s what he would do

[cryptidfuckery]

Hey so you don’t have to reply to this but I’ve been having a career crisis lately and considering other vocational paths. One of these careers just so happens to be hair. I was wondering if you could tell me what made you want to become a hairdresser?

Ohhh this might get long but

First things first my mom is a hairdresser. Me becoming one wasn't a case of "I'm going to take over my mom's business" because she's been a sole proprietor booth renter for probably over 30 years now. She doesn't run a salon with other people under her, it's just her and her clients. If I worked under her I would have just been taking money our of her pocket.

But my mom being a hairdresser definitely influenced me! Getting to watch her work and own her own business my whole life helped me understand exactly what to expect out of the industry, and what I would have to do to be successful.

But me actually deciding to become a hairdresser started with me being absolutely miserable in my third semester of college. I loved studying sociology, but school and I don't mix well. I also realized that while I loved what I was studying, I didn't have any real interest in the professions usually associated with what I was majoring in. (Didn't want to do any kind of counseling, hate math so no stats work, research was the most enticing but too close to how school works and I Know would have been Miserable ultimately)

So one day being absolutely miserable and stressed around finals I sat myself down and forced myself to think about what the next 5-10 years would look like. I realized that if I stayed in college it would be to finish, find a job in my degree, then eventually when I have the time and money again I'd go to cosmetology school. (At the time I thought I was going to be a makeup artist. Holy shit fuck that noise. Not for me.)

And it just kind of clicked for me. Why am I spending all this money on a degree i (while I loved) did not really want? Especially when I could finish cosmetology school in under a year with less money than 2 semesters of college would be? Especially since you can start making money directly out of cosmetology school and continuously build after that as you gain more clients.

My final advice is this. There is a hairdresser for everyone and there are clients for every hairdresser. Genuinely the best thing you can do is be yourself and the right people will find you. And then they'll give your their friends, who like you too because you're their kind of people. And you get to choose absolutely what the fuck ever you want to specialize in. You can do exclusively color. Exclusively cuts. You can choose what style of cutting and coloring you want to learn from and you can completely switch that in the middle of your career. You can exclusively do texture treatments (perms, keratins, etc) if you're okay with so many chemicals in your body and bad smells! You can specialize in rat haircuts, which I honestly might try to do. (I have not done one yet. Someone let me do a rat haircut on them. Please. Rat haircut.) You can do everything! Also don't forget barbering!! Whole different school with different subsets and specializations, but many many cosmetologists cross over into both as well! I plan on eventually also acquiring a barbering license so I can truly be a one stop trans chop shop (mainly so I can offer my trans girlies clean shaves between electrolysis/Lazer appointments (iirc one can and cannot. I cannot be fucked to check rn)

So. Yeah. I think trades are absolutely the way to go right now in this economy. We provide services that everybody wants or needs, from hair to plumbing to carpentry to welding to auto mechanics to nail techs. There will always be a broken toilet, an oil change, a haircut needed.

Watch out for pandemics though. Woof.

[w1ldthoughts]

Why so Serious?

Synopsis: Zoey surprises Jack in Louisville.

A/n: Just a tad bit (okay a little more than that) angsty

Series Masterlist

Zoey had admittedly never been in this situation before. And she hated it. Jack was supposed to come to Miami to spend some time with her but he’d been traveling a lot for work and she couldn’t get free and it really sucked to sit back and realize how much Jack’s presence calmed her and brought her so much joy. She was officially one of those girls. You know the ones. They get a boyfriend and immediately life is all about their man. And this was the third day in a row at the office that all Zoey could think about was…seeing her man. It made her both giddy and want to gag. Sure she’d been in a serious relationship in college but she used to be such an independent person. Now she couldn’t go two weeks without basically wanting to crawl into the skin of a 6’3, curly haired rapper. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

They hadn’t seen each other in a month and barely spoken the last few days because either she was busy or he was. When she tried to FaceTime him earlier in the evening, it wouldn’t even ring so she figured he was still working with his phone either on airplane mode or do not disturb. So she called Urban, who picked up on the first ring.

“Zoey! Long time no talk. What’s up?”

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to present her case without sounding super clingy. “Hi Urby, nothing’s wrong I just wanted to know if you guys are still at the studio? I’ve been trying to get ahold of Jack and we haven’t really talked in the last few days so I was wondering—”

“He misses you too.” He states plainly, reading her mind. “Been trying to drown himself in work but I really think it’s getting to him.” Urban sighed, catching a glimpse of his friend sitting in a chair outside the booth with a blank look on his face. Jack had probably gotten a collective 8 hours of sleep the last couple days. “You know what we should do?”

Zoey stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue. “We should get you on the first flight out here and surprise him. Guy’s been running on fumes lately and that’s not good for any of us, especially me and I don’t wanna have to check his ass. We’ve been on a good streak. Plus, if he’s too busy to go to you, then—”

“I should come to him! That’s actually a really good idea. I’ll start looking for flights tonight and text you the details. You’re the absolute best Urban Henry. I freaking love you.”

She can practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah I love you too. Just hurry up and get here so I can go see my girl in peace and leave y’all be.”

Urban picked her up from the airport 24 hours later and happily told her that Jack was home after calling it a day at the studio. It was truly perfect timing. He helped her get her suitcase out of the car and wished her luck, warning her that her boyfriend had been in a mood, that’s why the session had ended early.

When she walked into the house it was quiet except for the faint sound of NFL Network on the tv in the living room. Jack was sitting on the couch in a gray hoodie and matching sweats, typing ferociously on his phone.

“Hi baby.” She whispered. He thought he was dreaming at first but his feet carried him to where she was standing and before he could even really register what was happening, she was in his arms. She smelled just like he remembered, the smell of her black vanilla shampoo that she used was soothing to all of his senses.

“You’re here.” Jack said with a smile, not letting go. “Hi. How did you—when did you?”

“I called Urban yesterday and we figured everything out pretty quickly. But I missed you and needed to see you so, here I am.”

He kissed her forehead and she got on her tiptoes to peck him on the lips and run her fingers through his messy hair.

“Here you are. And you came at the perfect time because I was about to order dinner. What do you want to eat?“

They had dinner and talked about everything but work. Zoey was so thankful she made the trip to Louisville.

On their first morning together Jack was up at 5am, talking loudly on the phone with someone about one of the sound engineers having to fly home, putting him way behind schedule. Needless to say, he was stressed out about it so he left the house with a side hug and a rushed goodbye. Zoey kept herself busy planning a Renaissance themed bridal shower for a client but when Jack came in at 11pm and barely uttered a word, she headed upstairs to get ready for bed, alone. The next day was the same, except Jack went up to his room first and kept his back to her when she got in bed.

By day three, they were barely speaking to each other and Zoey contemplated just going home and letting him be. Maybe this was his artistic process, shutting everyone out and purely focusing on the task at hand and she felt bad for being a potential distraction. He’d spent the entire day in his home studio and was only now coming into the kitchen to grab lunch…at 5pm. From her spot on the other end of the kitchen counter, Zoey heard him slam the fridge door closed with an exasperated sigh.

“What’s going on with you?” She pressed, getting up from her chair.

He shook his head as she ran her hands down his arms, slightly pushing her away. On any other day she would’ve brushed it off but for some reason she felt like crying. “Nothing, I’m good. Just need to head back to work.”

Jack may have missed the tears in her eyes but she didn’t miss the deep bags in his. “You’re not good though, talk to me. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all. The most time we’ve spent together has been with our eyes closed.” She tries to joke but he just nods his head and she can practically feel his mood souring with every word that came out of her mouth.

“I have work to do Zoey. I don’t really have time for this right now.”

She crosses her arms, looking down at the floor. “I’m sure you don’t but I mean I flew all the way out here so we could see each other and—”

“Okay well I didn’t ask you to do all that.” He bites out, her eyes widening at his outburst. “Zo…baby I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I think you did. I’m um—I’m gonna get some air and get out of your way. Clearly my being here is disturbing your peace.” She grabbed his car keys and headed out to the garage without another word.

When she came back two hours later, Jack was in the same spot she left him in. But there were a few new things on the counter.

“If you think that these flowers and wine are a good enough apology you’ve actually lost your mind.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to come up with the right words. “I actually bought three bottles. You can throw one and drink the other two.” Zoey tilted her head at his poorly timed joke. “Okay tough crowd. Um listen, I am so sorry for being so short with you and for what I said. You know I always want you here, I’m just—fuck. I don’t know what it is but I’ve been in this fog and I thought I could just work through it but it’s just been getting worse and I took it out on you and that’s not fair and I can’t apologize enough Zo. I love you and I’m so sorry. I hate how I talked to you, I really do.”

Instead of responding, she opened her arms.“Come here J.”

Jack closed the distance between them and melted into the hug, tears pouring out of his eyes. Zoey rubbed his back and let him cry, squeezing a little tighter as his body trembled. God knows how long he’d been holding that in.

“Fuck man. I haven’t cried like that in a minute.” He sighed from his spot in her arms after they moved to the living room.

“You know that carrying the weight of the world is bad for your posture. And you already have a bad back and scoliosis.” She whispered, earning a laugh from him. “Let me help you carry some of that weight.”

He grabbed one of her hands, intertwining their fingers. “I just wonder if sometimes my shit gets too dark and I start to sound like I’m ungrateful, which is the opposite. And I’m not trying to be one-dimensional, just honest. But not too honest because then people will think I’m just this super angsty white rapper with no actual problems. It’s just really hard to find the balance right now.”

“Life is fucking hard Jack. And no one is going to be upset with you for admitting that.” Zoey lifts their joint hands and places a kiss onto his skin, looking him in the eyes. “You live a life that most people dream of yes, but it comes at a cost. Having to find small pleasures in things is a luxury when you’re living a life that isn’t just your own.”

She urges him to sit up so he can face her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this sooner?”

“Because this isn’t shit I wanna burden you with. I’m the fun, sexy boyfriend who makes you laugh and blows your back out.”

She lets out a loud laugh, smacking her knee for dramatic effect. “What was that last part?”

Jack narrows his eyebrows, “I’m not repeating myself. You know how I get down, dafuq?”

“Oh my god there he is. Please stop, I’m actually begging you.” She giggles, running her thumb across his jaw. “You are all of those things. My fun and sexy boyfriend who makes my abs hurt from laughing so much and blows my back out…occasionally. But you are also human. It’s okay if you’re not at your best all the time and it’s more than okay for you to feel sad. Jack…you know why I love you so much?”

He shakes his head with a sniffle.

“You are everything. You’re funny and sexy and kind and you’re deep and have complex emotions due to your unique circumstances and I love everything about you. Even the things that you think are flaws, I see them as different layers of you.”

Gently holding her face in his hands, he smiles. “I love you and I don’t deserve you. At all. But I’m so lucky to have you.” Jack kisses her cheek, then her other one, then her nose, then connects their lips for a soft but lengthy kiss. “While you were gone I was thinking about taking some time off work. Is your passport up to date?”

“Yes…why?” Zoey pressed, trying to get him to cave and tell her the plan.

“That’s for me to know and for you to think about on the plane. You didn’t think my apology would just be some damn wine and a flower bouquet did you?”

She sighs, wrapping her arms around him again. “The best apology was you being honest with me about what was bothering you. That’s all I need. But I’ll never ever say no to vacation with my man.”

Yeah…she was officially one of those girls. And she couldn’t be happier.

Taglist

@jackharloww

@killatravtramp

@middlechild404

@harlowcomehome

@itsyagirljaz

@iknowdatsrightbih

@earthtoharlow

@heavyhitterheaux

@hoodharlow

[sugacookees]

lovebug again

✩ boo seungkwan x reader ✩ high school setting, fluff, mutual pining, mentions of death  ✩ w.c. approx. 7.1k ♫ this town - niall horan; lovebug - jonas brothers; for lovers - lamp; forever&more - role model; la la la that’s how it goes - honne; falling for you - colbie caillat

I hate being sick.

Everyone does, but some people enjoy the special treatment they receive from loved ones. But in my household, that is never the case. When I get sick, it always seems to be my fault. Too much time on my cellphone, not enough sleep, going out with friends too much—every leisure activity that could be blamed except for the fact that it actually happens.

Teenagers get two to four colds a year on average. But maybe I’m not a teenager after all since my mom says I should never catch a cold. Only weak people do. And annoyingly so, I kind of agree. As president of the class and of the school council, each day is vital. So, being sick is totally not on schedule and ruins everything. The time I’m spending lying on my bed staring at my ceiling could have been time for me to finalize our plans for the fundraiser and the booths for the upcoming school festival. But no, the universe decided that I should become the most helpless human being on earth at the time I'm most needed.

I couldn't even check my phone for updates or messages from other school council members. My mom is convinced that my phone single-handedly caused me to catch a virus and that it should be kept away from me. She even went out of her way to wrap it in a drawstring bag so my sister wouldn't get sick like me. I tried to do some schoolwork in advance, but I felt like my head was about to fall off, so I quickly abandoned that plan. 

It was a day ago in Chemistry class when I started feeling ill.

“Okay, here are five chemical equations to balance. I’ll give you a couple minutes to accomplish this and then we’ll get right to checking them.”

I look down right away at my notebook and copy the equations. By the second one, the numbers and letters are starting to jumble and lose sense. I feel like I’ve been reading the same number over and over again. I look up and around at my classmates to see if I’ve just been looking down too much, but I quickly regret it as soon as I see Jisoo’s head in front of me turn into three. I clutch my head and shut my eyes closed, hoping it would go away. Nevertheless, I go back to my problem set and attempt to accomplish it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking to my right, where the voice is coming from, I see Seungkwan, who looks concerned. I quickly reassure him that I’m fine and that it’s probably just the heat. He nods in agreement, but does so hesitantly. Anyhow, I couldn’t find it in me to reassure him further as another wave of pain hits my head, and right at that moment I think I would just like to be hit by a train and be done with.

As I am looking down, I see a peek of navy blue hovering by my peripheral. I slowly turn my head towards it and see a jug held by Seungkwan, still with his worried face.

I’ve known Seungkwan for years. Our parents know each other way back from their childhood as we live just about 7 houses down by each other. It’s a small town too, so we go to the same market, same bakery, same school, and same dainty old cafes and restaurants. On holidays, we exchange meals and gifts, and simple hellos and goodbyes.

I remember the time before Nari was born. Seungkwan and I would always run around the house and play together. He invited me to his birthday parties, and I did too. Though, when we grew up and my father passed, I found myself forever changed. Seungkwan and I started to drift apart as a result of that, among other things.

Seungkwan has always been the most extroverted one in the room, and me, well, I’m completely on the other end of that spectrum. Wonwoo and Jiheon have always been quite introverted as well so we quickly got along. Surprisingly though, Wonwoo had also made friends with Seungkwan along with a few other boys. We would all be together from time to time at the park, the boys playing sports, and Jiheon and I, along with the other younger siblings of the boys, playing a definitely more beginner-friendly version of whatever game they were playing. All in all, we all got along well. Seungkwan and I would exchange conversations every now and then, but we weren’t as close and playful as we were before.

But I must admit, I have, and always will, hold a special fondness for Seungkwan. He was always sweet and kind, and even loved by all the elderly people in town. I recall the time I was out to buy some bread for our house, I saw him happily chatting with Chan’s grandmother. I say chatting, but more like gossiping by the way they were hunched and shifting their eyes. He would always make sure everyone in class was included, and he would always make everyone happy with his jokes and skits that he, Seokmin, Jisoo, and surprisingly, Jihoon, would act out. Seungkwan would also unhesitantly offer assistance to the student council during major projects. Sometimes, he would even stay late with me, saying, “So you have less to do tomorrow, and more time to rest!” He would then walk me home, and never forget to greet my parents and wish them well.

Seungkwan is lovely. And he is even more lovely now as he offers his water to me. Our drinking fountains have been under maintenance recently so, if I take up his offer he’ll have to wait until he gets home to get a drink again. He sees me hesitate and about to reject his offer, so he firmly places his tumbler on my desk and turns back to his notebook, offering no space for compromise.

In perfect timing, Mr. Hyun announces that the time is up and it’s time to check our answers. I pick up the tumbler, open it, and drink. I turn to Seungkwan quickly and smile. He smiles back.

By the next day, the headaches still come and go, but I keep it to myself and head to school anyway. During our break time, Wonwoo and Jiheon notice my weakened state and urge me to go to the school clinic.

“I’m fine! Just sleepy, that’s all.”

They share a look and thankfully leave my table.

But my peace is soon ruined as Jiheon slams a piece of paper on my desk. A clinic slip. The loud thump gathers the attention of the class, and they take notice of the much familiar white paper that occupies my desk.

“Oh my god, class president is sick?!” Soonyoung exclaims while exaggeratingly covering his mouth.

Usually unconcerned Hansol, Myeongho, and Junhui jerk their heads in my way with horrified expressions.

“I’m not sick! It’s just a small headache. It’ll go away soon.”

“It won’t.” Wonwoo says firmly with his arms crossed. “You’ve been having them since yesterday. Go to the clinic right now or else I’ll drag you there myself.”

Now, I'm usually assertive and tend to win in situations, but when I remember how Wonwoo once dragged Mingyu down the stairs by his backpack down the stairs because they were running late, I decide to sign the slip. I definitely don't want to be dragged like that.

On my way out, Jeonghan and Jisoo give me a few applauses with matching devious smirks.

I point at them accusingly and say, “Unlike you, I’m not pretending just to get out of class.”

Now here I am, at home, holed up in my room, bored out of my mind. Until, I hear a knock on my door and see Nari peeking in.

“Unnie, your classmate’s downstairs. He’s talking with Eomma. Come quickly.” She says hurriedly before rushing out.

I wonder what’s Wonwoo doing here. He usually sends me a text if he’s coming over. Well, he’s been one of my best friends for years, and he has come over a lot, so it’s not like my family has no idea of his existence, and maybe, he thought that sending me a text would end up in me stopping him from coming over. Probably.

Knowing it's only Wonwoo, I skip glancing at the mirror to fix my appearance; after all, he's seen me worse. Still feeling a bit lightheaded from lying down for hours, I make my way downstairs.

“Yah, Wonwoo. You couldn’t even se-“

I halt and gape at the man in my living room who is definitely not my best friend with fifty-eight centimeter wide shoulders (we got bored in class).

Seungkwan stands there in his collared navy blue sweatshirt, holding a basket of tangerines, looking at me with an alarmed face, then gives me a soft smile. It is at this moment I truly realize how much the universe hates me. I probably look like absolute shit right now, and Nari’s sly smile only confirms that further. That little girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude or whatsoever. I hope it’s okay. I’ll just drop this off and go, I’m sorry again.”

My mom quickly butts in, “No, no! It’s alright Seungkwan. The gesture is much appreciated. And I know this one has been dying for a familiar face that isn’t ours.” She gives me a look, which I have no idea what it even means, and smiles. She takes the basket and heads to the kitchen bringing Nari along.

In the living room, Seungkwan and I find ourselves standing awkwardly, a noticeable gap between us. It's evident that he wants to say something, but he seems hesitant, perhaps fearing that he might not be welcome. Unable to bear the silence any longer, I take the initiative and speak up.

“Thank you for coming by the way. And for the tangerines too. Those are my favorite.”

“I know.”

His response catches me off guard, and my surprise seems to have unconsciously shown on my face, prompting him to explain further.

“In middle school, we were asked to bring our favorite food. You came in holding this single medium-sized tangerine. And you know, my family has a farm so I brought one too. I was really embarrassed because Seungcheol had brought this full-blown meal and everyone was gathered around him. But then you saw me, approached me and told me-“

“‘Tangerines are cuter anyway.” I finish.

We both share a laugh and in between our laughter he asks me, “What the hell does that even mean anyway? How could tangerines be cute?”

I look at him fondly and answer, “Well, they just are.”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows our laughter as we gauge what to do next. As I’m about to ask him what made him drop by, he already answers me with a sheepish smile, “I, uh, just seeing you pale and weak in class, and you not showing up today just really had me worried.” He scratches his head and looks away. “So, I decided to check-up on you to see if you were alright.

Despite my disheveled bed hair, crusty and pale lips, and being dressed in Anpanman pajamas, I confidently say that I'm doing well.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming to school tomorrow.”

He gives me a worried look, like the one he gave me a day ago in Chemistry. “Are you sure? I think you should rest more. The council’s doing alright with the prep anyway.”

Feeling my stomach flutter at his genuine concern, I try to brush it off, blaming it on my feverish state, and reassure him that I'll be okay.

“I’ll be fine, Kwan. It’s just a cold.”

Kwan. I hadn’t realized I used a nickname for him I gave him years ago until I had said it. Either he didn’t notice, or doesn’t really care as it doesn’t seem to have caught him off-guard, seeing that he still seems to worry about me.

“If you say so…”

Ever the worrywart, but undeniably cute.

?!

“Well, it’s about to get dark in a while so I should head home. It was good seeing you. I hope you feel better. And if you ever decide not to come to school tomorrow that’s a hundred percent just fine, and I’ll take care of letting our teachers and the council know.”

I chuckle and walk him to the door.

“Thank you, Seungkwan. For coming by, and for the tangerines. I really appreciate it. Be safe on your walk back, and see you in school tomorrow.”

A few steps away from the door, he turns around, now walking backwards, with that charming smile and says, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. I hope I don’t.” As he walks away, that smile still on his face, I wave goodbye, returning the gesture with a warm smile of my own.

Subconsciously admitting that I do feel a little under the weather, I retreat back inside, hoping to get more and better rest.

Nearing the staircase, my mom stops me, and Nari hovers behind her with a smile that makes me feel uneasy.

“So,” she starts, annoyingly elongating the ‘o’. “I haven’t seen you and Seungkwan together for a while.” I quickly try to jump to correct her until she interrupts me. “I mean, you know, conversing. Especially with him coming here to our home.”

“Yeah, conversing.” Nari butts in, also, elongating her vowels. I roll my eyes at them.

“Tell that sweet boy he should come over often like the old days. Makes me feel younger.” My mom yells.

Don’t think I’ll be doing that, but like the good daughter I am, I say okay anyway and go back to my room.

My head pounds as I struggle to wake up, attempting to open my heavy eyes. The blaring alarm in the background adds to my discomfort, and I quickly move over to silence it. Another second of that noise, and my head might just explode. Despite feeling weak, I gather the strength to stand up, determined to get ready for school

Looking at my state and the fact that I can’t even tie my shoes right without getting lightheaded should be enough reason for me to garbage the idea of going to school. But then, I remember all my missed classes and the council preparations. I can’t miss one more day.

During breakfast, I try my best to act normal and perfectly healthy. Nari gives me a side eye every now and then, waiting for a moment to catch me red-handed; pretending not to be sick. Fortunately, my mom is preoccupied with getting ready for work and preparing our lunches, so she doesn't pay strict attention to my condition.

So far so good.

I collect my things and head out. As I open the door, the sun blares right at me so I cover my eyes with my hands and take a few steps forward to get into the shade. As soon as I remove my hand, I jump out of surprise at the sight of Seungkwan.

“Yah! Are you trying to kill me?! What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry! I just..” He trails off and leads me into confusion.

“You just…?”

“My mom!” He screams frantically, and I jump in surprise again. “My mom also knew about you getting sick, so she asked me to accompany you to school to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, well, she really didn’t have to. I’ll send her a text that I’m alright-”

“No!” He screams again.

“Seriously! Why do you keep screaming so early in the morning?!” His agitated state isn't exactly helping mine, and the never-ending screaming is starting to make me lightheaded again.

“I’ll do it. I mean- you don’t have to send her a text. I’ll tell her myself later. Don’t. Send a text.”

“Okay, alright!!”

I turn towards the direction of the school and start walking. He quickly follows and walks beside me.

Trying to make small talk, he asks me, “Are you feeling better today?”

“Yeah I am.” Well, technically, yes I am better. I didn’t say anything about feeling totally okay, so I’m totally, technically, not lying.

“That’s good,” is all he says.

He doesn’t make further small talk and we make our way to school in comfortable silence. Even if we hadn’t maintained a close friendship all these years, I can never feel uncomfortable around Seungkwan. Somehow, he always knows when I am in need of a cheery conversation, or time to be left alone. He also supports me in any endeavor I take on, like running for class president, and school council president. He even went as far as taking Soonyoung and Seokmin to the crafts store, buying materials to make a ton of banners and posters for me. I thanked them by treating them to Chan’s grandmother’s restaurant.

As we arrive in our classroom, our arrival makes some commotion.

“Oh? Class president, hello! Seungkwan-ah… hello to you too.” Soonyoung greets, adding a wink for whatever reason at the end.

As we walk to our seats, I feel lingering eyes following our every move. I look back and see Seokmin and Soonyoung whispering to each other. I raise a brow at them, and turn back to my seat shaking my head.

“Sorry about Soonyoung. I guess he missed you.” Seungkwan says beside me as he settles on his seat. “We all did…” He adds.

Wonwoo and Jiheon approach me asking about how I was and if I was feeling better. I fed them the same remarks (not lies) as I did Seungkwan. Wonwoo looks at me accusingly but decides to brush it off and keep to himself. If I don’t want to be sent home, I should really look out for Wonwoo. He might smell my bullshit about being okay from a mile away.

I made sure to bring a lot of water, using the big jug my mother uses on family trips. And also, to avoid Seungkwan offering his, and ending up infecting him. After all he’s done for me, I really don’t want to do that to him.

I excuse myself and head to the restroom to take a pain reliever, so a headache wouldn’t come over and torture me during class. After doing just that and trying to get myself together, I head back and continue as normal.

At lunch, Wonwoo and Jiheon eat with me. As I open my lunchbox and pause, both of them point at me accusingly, “Aha! I knew it! You’re still sick aren’t you?”

I guess my reaction, or lack thereof, to seeing my lunch was a dead giveaway that I don’t feel so up to par. Usually, I would get excited and eat right away, leaving no crumbs for Jiheon to steal.

“Ugh, but I feel better now. I promise!” I beg, mostly to Wonwoo. “Help me here Jiheon, please?”

“Sorry, I’m with Wonwoo on this one. You’ve been overworking yourself these days and coming to school today will just make your fever worse. You need to rest. It’s okay to, y’know?” She says.

I lean back on my chair, any appetite I even had, gone. I appreciate my best friends’ worries, but I really can’t afford missed days. But maybe they’re right. I can rest, and if I push myself harder I’ll miss more school days than I should.

Wonwoo pulls out an all-familiar slip and pushes it towards me. A clinic slip, all filled out and ready for me to bring. “We’re only worried about you. It’ll be better anyway if you were here in perfect, healthy condition, than physically being here but your mind—no offense, helpless.”

I take the slip and put it in my pocket. And since I don’t have any appetite, nor will I be in the classroom, I offer my lunch to Jiheon, which she accepts excitedly. Wonwoo shakes his head.

I leave the room and head to the clinic. On the way, I really start to feel my fever taking a toll on my body. What even possessed me to leave my bed and get ready? I should have stayed and slept all day.

When I get to the school clinic, they take my temperature and quickly assess that I should be sent home (again) for better recovery. Nurse Yang tells me she’ll ask someone to bring my stuff over for me.

After waiting for a bit, the sound of the chimes by the door brings my attention to Jisoo who is wearing my backpack.

“Thanks, Jisoo.”

“No problem. Though, I’m kinda jealous.” I smack him square on the shoulder. Nurse Yang gives us a side-eye glance. “Kidding. Obviously.” He heads out the clinic, but not before shouting, “Get well soon, our president!” I chuckle at Jisoo’s antics. “Sorry about that.” I tell Nurse Yang, to which she only shakes her head at.

“Your mother says she’s near, you should go to the gate now. Get well soon, dear.”

“Thank you, Nurse Yang. Hopefully you won’t see me back here anytime soon.” I really, genuinely, hope that.

I meet my mom, who is visibly mad, at the school gate. As soon as I get in the car, she gives me a lecture. I drown it out, and use my headache as an excuse to nap, even for a bit.

As soon as we get home, she orders me to stay on the couch for dinner and to drink some ginger tea. Even though the couch might not be as comfortable as my bed, I still snuggle in and nap.

The sound of the doorbell wakes me up. Despite being just a few feet away from the door, I refrain from standing up to get it. I know my family understands my current sickly state, and they will likely get it themselves. I hear the door open and my mom’s delighted gasp.

“Ah, Seungkwan!” I jolt upright and check if my ears heard that right. I look at the door, and there he is, right outside, holding a paper bag and smiling sheepishly at my mom. I contemplate whether I’m dreaming or not, but with Nari tapping my chin, I guess I’m not.

“A fly might go in, Unnie.” She teases then runs away before I give her one.

Seungkwan greets my mother back. “Hello! Just wanted to drop by again and give this samgyetang Eomma made. I also just wanted to check if…” He points at me, on the couch, “…is okay.” He smiles, and waves at me.

“Oh! How kind of you Seungkwan. Come in, come in!” My mom ushers him hurriedly inside, and takes the paper bag from his hands.

She looks at me pointedly, “Make some space for him!”

Seungkwan, alarmed, quickly blurts, “Oh no, it’s okay! I can just stand here...”

Despite his protests, I move my legs off the couch and move off to one side. I look at Seungkwan, who has a look of horror (and a bit of shame) on his face, and pat the very vacant seat beside me.

“Seungkwan, it’s okay. Lying down for so long isn’t great anyway.” I reassure him.

“Well, I won’t be here long. I just wanted to check if you were okay. But also, I felt a bit guilty that I didn’t notice that you were sick this morning.”

If I thought my head pounding was painful, the rapid and loud beating of my heart in my chest is quickly overshadowing that pain. Kind, charming, sweet seat mate and friend Boo Seungkwan, who offered me his water bottle [despite the fact that he can’t get a refill throughout the day], dropped by my house afterwards to give me a basket of tangerines, came to my house early in the morning to accompany me on my way to school [even if he was closer if he were to walk from his home], brought homemade samgyetang, and now says he feels guilty for not noticing I was still feeling sick. I think I might just melt into this couch, actually.

Thinking of nothing to respond, I switch the subject and ask him how his family is doing.

“They’re doing pretty good. My sisters miss seeing you. They always liked you ‘cause they could dress you up and talk about girl things I probably can’t understand.” He laughs.

“Well, I miss them too. Being an elder sister to Nari makes me want one too. I’ll make sure to visit when I get better.”

To that, he merely nods. We’re left in awkward silence again. Running out of things to say, I impulsively invite him over for dinner.

“Oh, no it’s alright, I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

My mom overhears him and quickly excuses him (more like begs him with pleading eyes), “No, Seungkwan. It’s alright. We would love to have you over for dinner! It’s always just us three, so another would make great company.”

“Eomma’s right, Kwan.” 

Kwan. The nickname again. I silently hope he doesn’t notice. And instead of dwelling on why it felt so natural to call him that, like in the old days, I beg him to stay.

“It’s the least we can do for all you’ve done for us, for me. The visits, the tangerines, the samgyetang, your water… Please stay.”

He looks at me to my mother, in deep thought. He fumbles with his hands, and I take notice of how slender and pretty they are. He takes a deep breath as he answers, “Okay.” My mom cheers and shouts my sister and I’s names, telling us to set the table and help her in the kitchen.

“Let me help!” Seungkwan says loudly, standing up from his seat.

“No.” We say in unison. Seungkwan gives up and sits back down with a huff.

During dinner, the atmosphere in our cozy kitchen is delightful, with lively conversation filling the air. A table for four, an antique lamp hanging right above our heads, and a lit candle on the counter. Seungkwan seamlessly fits in, right here beside me, engaging in cheerful chatter with my family. As we lock eyes occasionally, we can't help but share sheepish smiles.

In the middle of Seungkwan telling a story of how his sisters dressed him up for Chuseok last year, a sudden and powerful thunderclap reverberates the room and takes us all by surprise. Nari drops her spoon in surprise and latches on to our mother. As my mom consoles her, I look over at Seungkwan and see him deep in thought.

Oh right, he still has to go home.

“Oh, that must be the rain. Before it gets any stronger, I should probably go…” He says, looking down, afraid to disappoint my mother.

Out of concern (and concern only), I butt in. “What if it gets stronger as you’re walking home? Even with an umbrella, the walk home will still be pretty dangerous.” My overthinking self proves to be quite resourceful at this moment in concocting excuses, even though, in reality, it's not even raining yet. Despite that fact, I continue, “It’ll be better to wait it out, here, where you’re safer.”

I look to my mother in hopes she would agree with me. Her brows are raised but she relaxes them back as soon as I nudge mine for her to interject.

“Oh, yes. Agreed. Definitely. It’s time we took care of you, don’t you think?”

We all look to Seungkwan. An uneasy expression settles on his face. So, to assure him that he isn’t overstaying his welcome (I don’t think he ever can), I place my hand on his arm and smile softly.

“Please?” I squeeze his arm a bit. “I don’t want your family to get mad at me anyway for sending you home drenched.”

He chuckles and places his hand on top of mine. It’s warm. Where is this heat coming from? My fever? My naturally sweaty hands? My hand being sandwiched by his skin? The candle? Or maybe, it has something to do with the loud, fast rhythm my heart is going.

“Okay, okay. You convinced me.” He says out loud. His hand still on mine.

As dinner ends, my mother tells me to put on a movie in the living room to pass time in waiting out the rain. Seungkwan and I make offers to help with the dishes, but my mother is sure she can handle it and doesn’t let us forget that, actually, I’m still sick. Seungkwan, as if hit with this revelation, looks to me with shock as if he had also forgotten why he had come in the first place.

He rushes us back into the living room, settling on the couch, and picking a movie to watch.

“How about that one?”

“The Mimic?! Are you serious?! I’m sorry but no.” He says to me, as if very offended.

“But they said it’s good!”

“How about this one instead?”

The Lover’s Lake, flashes on the TV. I look to him in surprise. I should’ve known he was a rom-com guy.

“See, look. 5 star ratings! This is definitely the one.” He says excitedly. With this much excitement coming from him , I find it impossible to say no. He celebrates shortly, then stands up to dim the lights, setting the perfect mood, and then settles back down, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position. And this said position seems to be at a spot closer to me than he was previously.

I have this thing where, if the movie is good, I tend to instantly fall asleep. And that is just what I did. My eyes were getting heavy about just 20 minutes in. I had felt myself slowly leaning onto Seungkwan, and continued doing so until my head rested on his shoulder. He had not said a word about it, and continued to watch the film.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but he had leaned onto me too. Though, I wouldn’t be so sure about that as I had drifted off to sleep by then.

“Okay, now just pull the bunny ears you’re holding. Pull them tight.”

Following his instructions, I pull tight and successfully tie my shoelaces. His face contorts in delight and breaks out in a big smile.

“See! You did it! Not that hard, right?”

“It was hard.”

He laughs and picks me up in his arms.

Giving me a big smooch on my cheek, he tells me, “I’m proud of you anyway, my love.”

“Thanks, appa.” I say, and hug him tighter.

“Now go back down and show them.”

I run down the stairs excitedly. Today’s my 4th birthday and my family and friends have come to celebrate with me. There’s people towering over me everywhere. Finding my way to my mom to show her my recent feat, I maneuver through the crowd the best I can, but in doing so, I bump into someone.

“Ow, my head!”

As the voice screams out, I instinctively reach for the spot where we bumped, trying to figure out who I even bumped into.

It’s Seungkwan!

“Seungkwan!” He greets me back with the same enthusiasm, both of our pains ebbing away.

“Look!” I point to my shoes and he looks down to see what I’m even excited about.

His jaw drops a bit at the achievement usually only 6 year olds can achieve. “You did those?!”

“Yep.” I say with a proud smile. He continues looking at me in shock and he looks down at his shoes.

Velcros.

I laugh heartily but stop immediately when Seungkwan looks back up at me with an annoyed face.

In an attempt to make him feel better, I ask him if he wants to go get sweets with me. He puts up a bit of a fight before agreeing, but says yes anyway as if it was his last resort.

I take his hand in mine as we weave through the crowd towering over us. He squeezes my hand every now and then, when someone bumps into him and he’s lagging behind, afraid I’ll leave him behind. I tug on his hand.

After what felt like the world’s most grueling journey, we arrive at the kitchen. The sweets are on the counter, but they are really, really high up—way beyond our reach.

Seungkwan and I share a look.

He gives me a nod and I return a look of confusion. He nodded at me like I knew what he was about to do, or that we’ve been through this a million times. He really needs to stop watching those spy movies.

He leaves for a moment and comes back with a stool. As he takes a step on it, it wiggles a bit and I clutch onto him immediately. I look up at him and he merely says, “Oops.” I furrow my brows at him in annoyance.

“Let go of me! I’m so near!” He whines while gently pushing my forehead.

I sigh in defeat and let him go.

He takes another step, both feet on the stool. The added leverage enables him to see the array of sweets on the counter, which, judging by his reaction, is a pretty damn lot.

“Woah! There’s bungeo-ppang, chocopie, songpyeon, and-” He pauses and lets out a gasp.

“What? What is it?! Tell me!” I beg, tugging on his shorts.

He looks at me to create suspense, and then screams in glee, “HOTTEOK! Our favorite!”

In utter surprise and excitement, I pull my hand away from Seungkwan and start applauding. But it seemed like I did it too quickly, causing him to lose balance. From the first wobble, I start screaming his name repeatedly.

“Seungkwan! Seungkwan!” I say it repeatedly, and too fast, that by some point (yes, at this point he is still pretty much wobbling, putting up a good fight) all anyone would hear is, “Kwan! Kwan! Kwaaaan!”

He falls.

I rush to his side and ask him if he’s okay. He stays on the floor, with his eyes closed. After a beat of silence, he starts laughing. I look at him in confusion, wondering if he hit his head too hard. Seungkwan is now crazy and I have to say bye-bye forever.

He opens his eyes and stops laughing as soon as he sees my expression.

“You sounded so funny. ‘Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!” He says, mimicking my voice.

I smack him square on the shoulder.

“Sorry. Here-” He tries to sit up and hands me something. A single piece of hotteok. “Happy birthday!”

I take it from his hand saying, “Oh. Thanks!”

“What happened here?!”

We both look up in surprise at the horrified voice. It’s my mother.

In fear, Seungkwan starts apologizing frantically. “Sorry! We just wanted some sweets but I fell down. Don’t worry they’re still fine! I just got one hotteok though.”

My mom sighs deeply and helps Seungkwan up. She returns the stool from where it came from and reaches for something on the counter.

“Here. One for you, since you fought so valiantly for it.” She says, ruffling his hair. Someone from the living room calls for her. She gives us a smile and walks away.

Seungkwan and I exchange amused glances and burst into laughter. Amidst our laughter, I manage to take a bite of the hotteok now and then, only to continue laughing with my mouth full. Seungkwan playfully teases me, "You hotteok addict! At least wait for us to stop laughing!”

I smack his shoulder again, which seems to urge him to tease me further. “Hotteok addict! Hotteok addict!” He starts mimicking my voice and my rushed tone from earlier, now saying, “Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“What does that even mean?!”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. What does Kwan mean?!”

“Your name is SeungKWAN, stupid!”

“Kwan! Kwan! Kwan!”

“Tteokki! Tteokki! Tteokki!”

“Yah!” We both look at the booming voice, and see my dad towering over us with his brow raised. Seungkwan and I look at each other and nod. Then we start running away in laughter.

A loud thunderstrike jolts me awake.

Huh. My 4th birthday. That was the last time my dad celebrated my birthday with me, and the last time Seungkwan ever saw him alive. What a bittersweet memory.

I try to raise my head but feel a weight on top of it, stopping me from doing so.

My cheeks heat up at the realization. Seungkwan fell asleep too. And, he’s leaning on me.

In a state of panic, I try to make him more comfortable, but only lead myself to move my head and realize how stiff my neck is. I wince in pain which jolts Seungkwan awake. He looks around, feeling heavily disoriented.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you.” I say.

He looks at me with his mouth slightly open, his hair all floofed up in different directions, and a faint red mark on his left cheek where he was leaning on me.

He gains a bit of composure and says, “No! If anything, it’s my fault. Sorry for falling asleep on you. It must have been uncomfortable.” He scratches the back of his head, feeling a bit ashamed.

With no intention of lying, I agree with him. “Yeah, a bit. But it’s alright.” I say, laughing a bit towards the end to make him more comfortable.

“Well, it seems like the rain has stopped. I should head home…”

My mouth opens to say something, but the words seem to escape me, leaving me with a simple, "Oh."

He stands up to collect his things and prepares to leave. I stand and go to the door before he can, then Seungkwan appears in front of me.

I open the door and gesture my hand for him to step out first. He smiles shyly and heads out, with me following right after.

“So, uh, thanks. For coming by today. I really lo-liked having you here.”

“Me too.” He responds promptly. It seems to be a vague response so he adds, “Thank you, I mean. Thank you also for the great dinner and letting me stay for a while. Sorry again for… sleeping on you…” He looks away.

I laugh and tell him, “Kwan, you apologize too much y’know. Honestly, tone it down.”

He lets out a blissful sigh. “Well, I won’t keep you out here for too long. Goodbye.” He wistfully says, saying my name at the end.

“Goodbye, Seungkwan. I’ll see you in school.”

He starts walking away, towards his home, away from me. And for some reason, I wait. I wait for him to do something. Not exactly sure what. But I just feel like I don’t want this to end.

So I rush back inside the house and reach for something below the shoe rack. I run after Seungkwan, shouting his name.

Alarmed, he looks back immediately in shock. I stand before him tired and panting with my hands on my knees.

“What are you-”

“Here-” I hand him an umbrella. It’s pink and has flowers. “You should use this. Y’know, in case it- umm, rains again.”

He appears hesitant, almost ready to decline, but he stops himself and settles for a simple, kind, and gentle, "Thank you. You didn't have to do that.”

We stand in the middle of the street, just staring at each other with soft smiles. Just two people who have been gravitating around each other, now seemingly refusing to be apart.

He breaks the silence and says, “I’ll go now. For real this time,” while pointing a finger at me. We share a laugh.

Feeling a bit ashamed, I look down and say, “Sorry.”

“Ah, it’s alright.”

He smiles at me, and in response, I smile back and nod, silently indicating that I have nothing else to say to hold him back from going home.

“Get well soon, Tteokki.” He says, ruffling my hair. I say nothing about the nickname, like he did all those times before, and keep smiling.

Seungkwan finally turns back and walks towards the direction of his home, and I do the same.

Before I step inside, I can't help but glance back at him. Seungkwan continues walking with the umbrella hanging on his wrist, swinging it along with his arms. I keep my eyes fixed on him until his silhouette fades away.

With a sigh, I turn back inside, unaware that a certain round-faced boy had momentarily halted his walk and looked back, his thoughts mirroring mine. Just for a moment.

After an exhausting day of essentially doing nothing, I plop down on my bed. I fluff my pillows, get under my covers, and hold onto my teddy bear, hoping for the best sleep ever.

However, just as I close my eyes for about three seconds, I hear a notification sound from my phone. Unable to ignore it, I reach over to my bedside table and check the notification. The curiosity of not knowing what it is would surely keep me from sleeping soundly anyway.

It’s a message from my mom.

Confused, I swipe to open our conversation and see that she has sent me an image. It hasn’t fully loaded yet so I click on it and wait.

When the image loads, my heart starts beating quickly.

It’s a picture of me and Seungkwan sleeping on the couch. My head on his shoulder, his head on top of mine. My brows aren’t furrowed like they usually are. I look relaxed; at ease. I don’t look like I’m sick at all. And Seungkwan looks the same.

I zoom in behind us and see Nari smiling wide holding up a peace sign.

I shake my head and react on the picture with an angry emoji. Before I turn off my phone, my finger hovers over a button.

It doesn’t take much resistance from me to go ahead and click it, so I do.

Then a pop-up notification appears on my phone.

Image saved.

I smile to myself, then turn off my phone and head back to sleep.

Maybe I don’t hate being sick anymore.

a/n: loosely based on a dream I had of seungkwan! fun fact: that dream was the reason he ultimately became my bias T__T i miss u boo! Be well, always <3

[otemporanerys]

WIP Whenever

I am very bad at remembering to do these, I know I was recently tagged by @kalliesa and @cr-noble-writes, apologies if anyone else did that as well I will tag @misseffect @dwarrowdams and (because it's been nearly a week since the last tag, lol) @cr-noble-writes Anyway I have had species swap Vakarian parents brainworms for nearly two years and it is finally, finally, time to make this everyone else's problem!!

---

After work, Tegan slipped back to her flat to change for dinner. An extranet search on “the Wardroom, Arcturus” had given her a big fat goose egg, so there was no way to gauge how fancy it was. Fine, she pulled out the little black dress from the back of the closet – her mother had made her buy it, she’d really overestimated how many cocktail parties Tegan would be invited to. She could take a thin cardigan if she needed to dress down, and her grandmother’s old pearls in case she needed to dress up. Bit of eyeshadow, bit of lippy, and she was back out the door again.

It was only when she got to the location Castor had sent her that she realized there was no way she was going to blend: as she walked in the door, she saw that each and every other person in there was wearing a uniform. The nice ones, with sharp shoulders and gold stripes.

And then the door swooshed open behind her, and Castor stepped in, wearing exactly the same getup.

“Hello,” he said. The long clean lines of the uniform suited him – better than the leather jacket, anyway. “Did you find your way here all right?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She jerked her head towards the other diners. “Except you didn’t tell me there was a dress code.”

“Oh.” Castor nodded at a… waiter? Cadet? Whoever was running around taking orders. “Don’t worry, you look nice.”

She looked like he’d ordered a date off the extranet, but she wasn’t going to let that bother her. “Sorry, I thought this was a restaurant.”

“No, it’s the… I suppose you could call it an officer’s club?”

It was a nice enough space, and the overhead lighting wasn’t as harsh as the lighthouse-blare of the rest of the station. The food didn’t even look too bad. Their cadet-waiter took them to a corner booth. “So you’re an officer?” Tegan asked.

“No, I’m an NCO. Was an NCO.”

Sheesh, always with the abbreviations. It was a bad as joining a new department. “Pardon?”

“A non-commissioned officer.”

Tegan chuckled. “And that’s different from an officer-officer?”

Castor sighed gently. “Yes.”

“How?”

“An NCO is promoted from the ranks of enlisted men,” he said, “and officers are formally appointed, usually after going to college. Would you like some wine?”

Tegan nodded. “So you joined right out of school? You didn’t go to university?”

“I did join right out of school – red or white?”

“Uh, white.”

“But I do have a degree.” He lifted his hand, and the waiter-cadet-slave came running right over. “Correspondence course, mechanical engineering.”

This all felt like a silly riddle. “So… are you going to be an officer?”

He wasn’t an expressive man, was Castor Vakarian, but she was beginning to understand the signs. A little puff of air through his nose, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth: she’d asked a stupid question. “They’re different roles. An officer makes the big-picture strategic decisions. An NCO provides specialist technical expertise, works with the marines, makes sure that the operation goes as well as possible.”

“Oh, when you put it like that.” Tegan leaned back against the booth – surprisingly comfy. “It’s like working in a lab. The professor has the bright ideas that gets the funding, and the postdocs and the lab techs are the ones who actually run the experiments.” Castor nodded. “Do you ever have to go back to the officer and tell him that the numbers don’t add up?”

Another, slightly different twitch. “All the time.” The wine arrived, and Castor poured them two glasses.

Tegan lifted hers. “Lechyd da.”

“Yakky da,” he replied. Close enough.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Studio Musician

Semi x gn!reader

When the studio told you that they found a fill in guitarist for your band, you were wary. Most studio sanctioned musicians had an ego, they often wanted to force you to change your music to fit the way they played- but you couldn’t argue this time. The album needed finished to make the release date and your fingers were broken. Your drummer, Ichiya, had never been more anxious, he knew your dislike for studio musicians and was afraid you’d replace him since it was his fault- he hadn’t actually meant to do it, but the bass player Mei had convinced you to prank him with a scare after the band had watched Friday the 13th together. He didn’t recognize you under the hockey mask, slamming his window shut on your fingers as he screamed in panic. You didn’t hold it against him, but being an up and coming rock musician boosted his confidence, it didn’t quell his anxiety, so you just tried to reassure him every day that you wouldn’t leave him behind.

So here you waited, sagging in a chair at the soundboard as you waited for the guitarist.

Who was running late.

The sound designer swore he would be there any minute, but you were getting irritated the longer he left you waiting. It had already been twenty minutes passed the agreed upon time, you had other things to do besides waiting to argue with some guy that you weren’t changing the song to fit how he thought it should sound!

Tossing your head back, you scowled at the ceiling, ignoring the studio workers that flitted about the room in preparation and review of what you’d already recorded. “Doesn’t this guy know what being on time means?” You groaned, noting the clock read he was now thirty minutes late.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m here. Traffic is a nightmare.”

Lifting your head, you regarded the bowing man just inside the door. Why was he wearing a dress shirt? You could even see his tie dangling to the floor in front of him. “Better late than never. You received the tracks and sheet music, right?”

“Yes?” He answered in a questioning tone as he stood up straight, regarding you where you sat. You were glad you were already annoyed, otherwise how pretty he was might cause different attention issues. “Could you get the singer for me so we could get started?”

The studio staff around you seemed to freeze- you weren’t exactly known for having an easy going nature while you worked, even if you treated them with what most musicians viewed as more respect and friendliness than they deserved. They also knew you were having a bad day after forgetting your pain medication on the table of the apartment you shared with your band mates. Half of them had secretly placed bets on whether you’d even still be here when the guitarist showed.

Bracing for an argument, they watched as you scoffed, “I am not here to serve you. Get in the booth and show me what you’ve got.”

The grey haired man furrowed his brow, looking more like he was remembering something than he was preparing to snap back, “Wait a second, I know that voice from interviews… are you Y/N?”

“And we have a winner.” You rolled your eyes, standing from your seat and gesturing to the sound booth door you couldn’t open with a cast on your dominant hand, “Are we gonna get started or what? It’s already late and I have more mixing to do tonight.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He pulled his guitar from the case, gently fixing the tuning as you moved back to glaring at the ceiling. You just wanted to get this over with. You wished you were at home, watching tv or pranking Ichiya again because you were terrible at learning from mistakes or- “Can I make a suggestion before we start?”

The sound designer choked on her drink as the question came out- she was a huge fan of yours but panicked any time someone would question your music, she didn’t want to see you kicked from the studio. Your gaze shifted to meet his, fire burning in your irises, “What suggestions?”

He shrugged- were you even going to learn his name before it got printed on the album?- and finally finished setting up his guitar, “Just wondering if you could play me the tracks first so I can hear how you wanted it to sound outside of the sheet music.”

Your gaze was scrutinizing as you stared at him like he’d grown a second head, before finally giving a nod, “I’m sure Dahla can bring those up for you.”

“Who?”

The sound designer waved her hand at his question, you gestured to her, “Dahla. Our sound designer. Do not raise your voice to her, do not make demands. Make a request in a normal tone and she’s usually happy to comply.”

“Uh,” he blinked, unsure why he was being given this information, “Do you guys have shitty luck with studio players around here or something?”

“You could say that.” You gave her a pat on the shoulder, and she immediately queued up the first track, letting him get a feel for it before he disappeared into the sound booth.

It has been three days of working with the same musician, and you still didn’t know his name. Normally you wouldn’t care, when the recordings finished you generally went on your way and didn’t give them another thought, but unlike the others he respected your music. Unlike others, he heeded your words about the way to treat Dahla. Like Ichiya, she suffered anxiety that she majorly overcame to get a job working with artists she admired, but any time she was treated poorly it racked at her self esteem. This guitarist had been the first in a while that you could watch her willingly engage with. And you found yourself watching him more and more as the editing sessions and recordings continued. At the end of the final recording, Dahla just had to open her mouth about it, “So, Y/N, are you going to take him out to celebrate finishing? You know, like you usually do?”

You absolutely did not usually do that, but she mentioned it in front of him for a reason, making you stutter, “Uh, sure? If, you know, if he wants to. We should still be able to find somewhere open, if it’s not too late at night.”

It was pushing eight o clock, there were plenty of places open, but at the same time it gave him an out to claim he had to be up early or that he couldn’t go for one reason or another.

“Sounds fun, will you be joining us?” He shined that smile you’d realized was damn near perfect at Dahla, who offered up an easy laugh.

“Oh- can’t! I have to get the final cut to the agent, and Ichiya and Mei demanded I bring the hard copies over tonight.”

His brow furrowed, “Couldn’t Y/N just bring it home with-“

“Nope!” Dahla cut him off, waving and smiling, “It’s my job as the sound designer to make sure everyone is happy with the finished product.”

Blinking, the man turned to you as if looking for help, but you just sighed, “I would just let it go if I were you. Stubbornness is one of the reasons her tracks are always perfect.”

Dahla knocked her hip against yours as she stood up, slipping her jacket on, “And it’s why you always request me when working in the studio. Now, I’m off, have a great night you two!”

The man- you really needed to learn his name- raised an eyebrow as she scurried out the door, “She’s not a subtle one, is she?”

A bark of laughter escaped you, you hadn’t thought he caught on, “No. No, she is not. But how about that bite to eat?”

“So, what do you do?”

He was caught off guard by the question, blinking at you, “I play guitar?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned in your seat at the ramen counter to look at him, “Thanks, genius. I meant, what do you do usually? I figured it was safe to assume you didn’t wear a suit the first day because that was how you dress to play guitar.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed, “Yeah, sorry again for being late. Traffic actually wasn’t bad, but I got held up at my day job. Was afraid to say it because I didn’t want to studio to take the job back.”

“Not like they could.” You smirked, waving your still casted hand, “I can’t play. All the musicians staffed by the studio refuse to work with me. So they called in a…”

“Civil servant Semi Eita, at your service,” he mock saluted, “I work for the government, but music is my passion. Why do the other musicians refuse to work with you?”

You hummed, chuckling as you looked back at your bowl, “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine. The musicians that have filled in before- say when Mei was sick or Ichiya managed to slam his fingers in a car door- they always tried to make me change the music to fit their style.”

He scoffed, “It isn’t their music to change.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, “But it labeled me as hard to work with, especially since I take part in the whole process up to when it actually hits the shelves.”

“You didn’t give me much trouble, aside from when I made you wait.”

“Made me wait and assumed I was studio staff.”

Semi winced, playing with his chopsticks to avoid looking up at you, “Yeah, not my best move. You look different outside of your stage get up.”

“My stage ‘get up’ isn’t a look.” You laughed, “I just happened to be very dressed down for a day in the studio when we met. Can’t do my full look with this cast on.”

He seemed to regard you for a moment, before offering a shrug, “You look good either way.”

You snorted, giving him a funny look as he seemed to realize what he said, “I was kidding- you know that right? No sane person would do that much work for an every day look.” He nodded, but you didn’t think he was even registering your words as he stared into space with a stone stiff posture. “Uh, Semi? You okay?”

He jerked to look at you, eyes wide despite the usual confidence you saw in him, “You know my name?”

Cringing, you gave him an embarrassed smile, “I didn’t until you said it, when you said you worked for the government.”

Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“To be fair, you never told it to me when we met. Which is probably my fault. I was annoyed you were late, and then I was glad you were late because if I stayed annoyed I wouldn’t get distracted from the work.”

“Why would you get distracted?”

“Cause you’re hot?” You were confused, didn’t he know that?

Suddenly the confidence you knew came back, a smirk sliding onto his face, “You think I’m hot?”

“I assume most people do,” you countered easily, sipping your sake, “I mean I have working eyes.”

“Good to know.” He answered, more to himself than anything, the smirk never leaving his face that night.

If your tour a few months later happened to have his band as the opener, many fans speculated that he must have impressed you- it was common knowledge that he was credited on the album after all. No one ever confirmed or denied the allegations, because, well… the reasoning was for you two to know.

No matter how much Dahla and Ichiya gave you shit about it.

Masterlist

[ggomos-maribat]

The Bird Who Cried Coffee

Tim stumbled across the road with jelly legs and staggering vision. He had made the mistake of picking up alcohol instead of coffee to 'give himself a buzz' and now, he was drunk out of his mind in the middle of the night, creeping in between corners in case one of his brothers on patrol (or Batman himself) found him in the city.

"Co—coffee?" He slurred, seeing a bright glowing light next to an alley. He stepped towards the place: a humble coffee shop, only the size of five and a half telephone booths. How come he'd never seen it before?

"Hello!" He hollered at the counter, hopping up a barstool. His mind was chanting: drunk, bad. Coffee good. Need coffee.

"Welcome to the Coffee Stall! We appear whenever and wherever you need us—oh." A girl—or at least Tim thought it was a girl—emerged from the back. She gaped at him.

"Where's your menu?" Tim pouted. "Do you have an iced latte with four shots of espresso and chocolate sprinkles?"

"Um, yeah I don't think that's what you need right now," the girl said, wiping her hand with a towel. She went away from the counter again and came back with a glass of water.

"That's not coffee." Tim was close to tears.

"No coffee for you right now," she reprimanded, with her ponytail swaying as she shook her head. "Drink that. You need to sober up tonight . . . and you can use some company."

"Are you trying to flirt with me, lady?"

She sighed. "Please just drink that."

Tim did as told, downing the water to wash away the ugly taste in his mouth. He asked for another glass, which she happily poured him.

"Look, how do I explain this?" The girl muttered. "We're a Coffee Stall that . . . we do sell coffee, but whenever there's a person in need, we also try to help them out. This place is run with magic, so we can't choose where we end up."

"And I'm only telling you this because you're so drunk. You probably won't remember this in the morning."

"I've got a great memory, thank you," Tim huffed, squinting at her nametag. "Marinara Sauce."

"It's Marinette," the coffee water server deadpanned.

"Marinette." He nodded, clasping the glass between his hands. "I don't need company, by the way, I already have a multi-billion dollar one of my own."

"Right. And your name?"

"Tim Duck."

"Tim Duck?"

"It's bad to give out your name to people you don't know." He examined his fingernails smugly. "So it's Tim Duck. Duck-Wine. Also known as the Gotham vigilante Red Robin."

Marinette winced. "Something tells me I'm not supposed to know that."

"It's a pretty well-kept secret."

She laughed, moving to the side to take out a box of cake from the refrigerator. Tim's mouth watered at the perfect-looking dessert that she was slicing. Thankfully, the slice she took was for him.

"You're in luck. I'm good at keeping secrets." She smiled enigmatically. "So what are you doing walking around in the City of Crime late at night while drunk?"

Tim groaned, stabbing his fork into the piece of cake. "I was tired! So much work to do and no breaks. I found this nice bottle and started drinking. Then I ended up here." He hiccuped. "Before you say anything, I can take care of myself. I once took down Scarecrow and his goons while running on 0.532 hours of sleep!"

"I'm sure you did."

"I did!" He said proudly. "I also found out Batman's identity when I was a kid and forced him to make me Robin!"

"Did you now?"

"Yup!" He said with a mouthful of cake. He asked for his third glass of water before he continued snacking on the chiffon goodness. "Where are you actually from, Marinette?"

"Paris," she replied.

"That is so far from here? How'd you get here?"

"I told you already. Magic. We've been hopping from place to place." She pointed to the corkboard hung up on top of the flavoring pumps. Pictures forming a collage were pinned on the board. "We've been to Hawaii, Moscow, Taiwan, Italy and more. There's around one to five customers per location."

" 'We'?"

"Ah, this is my shift. We have other workers."

Tim hummed. "You're not the owner?"

"Technically I am, since I do the extra work and lead the team but I'd like to think that the owner is all this Miraculous magic and I'm just the manager."

Tim sipped his water again. Yes, none of what she said sounded strange at all.

---

"I swear, it was right here!"

"What was here?" Dick asked.

"The Coffee Stall!" Tim cried out. He took his phone out from his suit jacket and double-checked the location. The street looked exactly the same as he remembered last night, except for the absence of the shop.

He remembered what Marinette said. The shop changed locations depending on whoever needed it.

"What was supposed to be here, Tim?" Dick peeked at his phone.

"A magical coffee shop that appears for those in need and travels all around the world. They have really good cakes and it's run by this cute girl!" By his drunken stupidity, he failed to get her number or last name, so he only had her first name and a fuzzy memory of her beauty.

"Remind me to never let you near alcohol again." Dick patted his back.

"I told her I'm Red Robin."

"You what?!" 

On AO3

Permanent Taglist: @tinybrie @the-coffee-fandom

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part twenty five)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 711

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Grooves is finally going to realise his feelings. Only a little longer until they admit their feelings. Enjoy!

Grooves sipped his mug of coffee, watching as Conductor trudged into the room.

He'd left the owl to sleep after Conductor had finished watching his reel.

Conductor had been nice enough to let Grooves stay and watch the rest too.

"Sleep well?" Grooves asked, watching as the coffee machine dispensed into another mug.

Conductor let out a grumbled string of words, snatching up the mug and downing the piping hot liquid.

"You need to say goodbye," the train chimed.

"Yeah, I'll go chat to Roxie in a bit," Conductor said. "Sorry about the, uh- the mess I was in the other night."

"Hey, no, don't apologise," Grooves replied. "You were there for me at that interview when I was out of it."

Conductor crossed over and sat down beside him in the booth, resting his head on the tabletop.

"Thanks Grooves," Conductor mumbled.

"Roxie is outside!" The train announced.

"Let her in then." Conductor waved a hand.

The ceiling lights flickered in a pattern, flashing in a row from one end to the end they were sitting at.

"So, how is the train, um, alive?" Grooves inquired.

"I don't actually know," Conductor laughed, sitting back up.

"She doesn't know either. The Express was like this when I got her. I've got the records from her previous owners and they didn't know either."

"So you're saying you've done peck all to solve the case?!"

"I appreciate you quoting my movies darling, thanks," Conductor said with a grin.

Grooves' chest fluttered slightly as his friend turned back to him.

"It's crazy, right?" Conductor mused, the corners of his mouth still pulled into a smile.

"Y-yeah," Grooves stammered, face heating.

The door at the other end of the carriage slid open and the lights flickered back to normal.

Roxie made a few gestures as she walked over, sitting down across from the two of them.

Conductor shrugged, signing something back.

Roxie looked between Grooves and Conductor, cocking her head to the side.

Conductor rapidly signed something before standing.

"I'm cold, I'm going to get my coat," Conductor announced, jogging up the stairs in the room.

"What was on the tape?" Roxie asked after he was gone.

"I think he should tell you himself," Grooves answered.

Roxie frowned, leaning back against the wall.

"Dad got me to go to a theatre club when I was younger. Apparently I had talent. I didn't enjoy it though," Roxie reminisced, propping her feet up on the table. "Dad got kind of upset. But Mum understood; she was nice about it. That was one of the last happy memories I have with her before she died."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You two would've gotten along really well. For more than one reason," Roxie chuckled after she said the last part, smirking as she looked over at Grooves.

"What do you mean?" Grooves asked. Roxie shook her head gently.

"You both loved acting. And you both love Conductor," Roxie whispered.

Grooves started to protest before Conductor came back out from upstairs, running back down to the booth and sitting beside the penguin. He'd put on his dark coat, buttoned tightly around him.

"What'd I miss?" Conductor asked, talons tapping out a tune on the tabletop.

"Hamilton songs on the brain?" Roxie teased.

"Shut it, peck neck," Conductor replied with a slight laugh, resting his head on Grooves' shoulder.

Roxie sighed, looking between the two of them.

Grooves looked at Conductor out of the corner of his eye, a faint heat rising in his cheeks.

He'd never seen Conductor so happy.

"Are you cold or somethin'? I can go grab your coat," Conductor offered, indicating Grooves' puffed up feathers.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Grooves protested.

Roxie stood up, reaching over and quickly ruffling the feathers at the top of Conductor's head.

"I've got to get back. But I'll come visit the studio some time. And perhaps even come to your movie premier," Roxie said.

"Our movie is gonna win all the awards this year," Conductor bragged.

Roxie let out a bark of laughter, waving goodbye before she left the carriage.

Grooves stared at The Conductor.

"What?" The owl asked.

"You called it our movie."

"And?"

"It's the first time you've called it our movie."

"I couldn't make it on my own."

[tinylilemrys]

Lonely In London

Relationship:

Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

Additional Tags:

Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.

Previous Chapter | Final Chapter

CHAPTER 4

Trent is in a car park in front of Heathrow.

He's trying very hard not to think about the fact that he anonymously told the man who he's absolutely gone for that he'll be waiting for him here in just under four months. It's a dizzying thought.

Right now, he's just waiting for Ted who's making sure Henry safely boards his flight back to Kansas.

He probably shouldn't have offered but he knows firsthand how shitty handovers are and Ted was just going to take an Uber otherwise. Better to save him the money and the bother, offer him the lift, comfort him about Henry, and maybe even come to some sort of understanding about where they're at. The month since the kiss has been fraught with tension and it's getting to the point where the team and staff are noticing. They need to get on some kind of page about it at the very least.

A text from Ted breaks his gloomy train of thought.

Henry's through check-in. It's still a while before he flies and I have to stay here until he's airborne. Let's do lunch? Or at least a drink. Don't think my nerves could take a meal right now.

Trent doesn't need telling twice.

It doesn't take him long to spot Ted. He thinks at this point he'd be able to immediately spot him in the densest of crowds, like the world's easiest and most specific Where's Wally. He smiles privately at how if Ted could hear his thoughts, he would insist on only being compared to Where's Waldo.

He's immensely glad that telepathy is beyond Ted's many talents.

"Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't Trent Crimm, future bestseller." Ted's smile is as wide as ever, but it doesn't crinkle the corners of his eyes the way it usually does. He's heartbroken, as Trent fully expected.

"How are you holding up, Ted?" he asks and Ted's smile settles into something far more tired, heartbroken, and real.

"Ah, well, you know," says Ted, his eyes looking rather misty, "it never gets easier."

His thumb is worrying over a keyring – a little LEGO minifigure that Trent suspects might be made to look like Ted. Likely a gift from Henry. Trent wants to throw his arms around him. To just hold him until it hurts a bit less.

He knows he can't. Not after July.

"Shall we get this drink you threatened me with?" says Trent gently and Ted nods, taking a deep breath.

After they're settled at a booth in a chain coffee shop with their respective hot drinks – Ted with an extremely apt Americano, Trent with an equally on-the-nose Earl Grey tea – Trent finds himself clearing his throat.

"So, do you want to talk about how you're feeling about Henry flying back?" he braves. "Or would you prefer anything else?"

"Anything else," says Ted. "Please, anything else. At least for a while."

"Great," says Trent, clenching a serviette for emotional support. "Perhaps then I could apologise for what happened at the Christmas party?"

"Oh, uh, sure?" says Ted, taken aback. "I didn't think we were actually ever going to talk about that again."

"We don't need to after today," says Trent.

Unless you want to, he doesn't add.

"It shouldn't have happened," he continues. "I think I must have accidentally been drinking from Dani's 'cheekied' punchbowl instead of the polite one. In any case, I forgot myself and I fear I've made things awkward between us."

Ted seems to be working through conflicting emotions. The lines between his brows deepen for a moment. His moustache twitches. He stares down at his coffee like it holds his response, then looks up at Trent.

"Not a worry, Bill Murray," says Ted, his face fixing itself into that same sad smile from earlier. "That night was pretty crazy, huh? Lot of emotions running wild. You don't have to apologise for anything. It was me too. I was like a helium balloon out of the hands of a careless child – just caught up in the atmosphere."

It might just be Ted trying to match Trent's lie, but it doesn’t mean it stings any less. Trent takes a sip of too-hot tea to cover his gloom and instead suddenly has to pretend that he hasn't just scalded his mouth.

"But, Trent, I will say this," says Ted in the most serious tone he's ever had directed at him, as Trent tries to play off the way he definitely just took off a layer of skin from his tongue. "I really like talking to you. As much as I think you like talking to me. I would hate for this to be something that gets in the way of that. Think we can at least promise to try our hand at being friends?"

"I think we could manage that," says Trent. He's almost able to ignore the agony he's in at the earnestness in Ted's voice. "After all, you know how I love our chats."

Ted smiles another real smile at that.

"Good, that's settled then." He lifts his drink. "To friendship moving forward."

"To friendship moving forward," Trent agrees, clinking his paper cup against Ted's, tears now forming in his eyes at the pain.

"Now, one friend to another, did you burn your mouth on that cup of Satan's swill just then?" asks Ted, to his credit, looking like he's trying his level best not to laugh. Trent can only nod. "Yeah, thought so. I'll go get you some ice."

It's still one of the better coffees he's ever gotten with someone.

Trent's mouth heals, as do things between Ted and him. Richmond has had an eventful start to the season with the arrival of Zava who even Trent finds himself moderately starstruck by. There's no denying the man is a football god and as a lifelong Richmond supporter, he can't help but be pleased with the string of victories that come with his place on the team. He does, however, note the way that Jamie seems to withdraw into himself and wonders that Ted hasn't seemed to notice. He thinks Roy does, though. Trent has realised that not much Jamie-related gets past Roy.

Ted's head seems to be elsewhere.

He considers it a moment of immense growth in his commitment to friendship with Ted when, at the opening of Sam's restaurant, Ted leaves with Rebecca's friend and he only stews on it for half an hour.

Sassy? Really? The woman Trent berated for making a mistake in turning Ted down is called Sassy?

Deciding jealousy isn't a good look on him, he decides to go home, and has all thoughts of Ted's romantic exploits pushed from his mind by the sight of Colin kissing someone outside of Sam's restaurant. Not just someone, though. A man.

Now there's a scoop. A scoop Trent would never share, not even in his days as a journalist. Hell, if the fucking Wonder Kid hadn't lost him his job, this would be the next thing that would. He would never out anyone. It was a hard line he'd drawn himself early in his career. After what he saw happen to Justin Fashanu growing up, he simply wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be part of that. 

The idea of that happening to someone from Richmond, this group of people he's come to think of as family, is unthinkable. He hopes and prays he gets a chance to talk to Colin before something happens and the secret gets out. Colin wasn't exactly subtle with his choice of makeout spot.

He thanks the gay gods of football when he gets his chance in Amsterdam.

At first, there's part of him that really wants to find out what Ted's plans are for the evening. It's Museumnacht, of all nights, and all he wants to do is stay out late exploring every single one with Ted, who he imagines would be a great companion on a museum trip. Sure, he'd likely make a joke about every single painting, but Trent knows he would be genuinely curious about them too.

It really would be too much like a date, however, and so he resigns himself to the fact that the right thing to do is to spend the night seeing what the rest of the team gets up to. He watches, with amusement, the heated debate about what the plan for the evening should be. He even tries to unsuccessfully sell them on the idea of Museumnacht. But so far it seems like they're not going to make it much farther than the lobby of the hotel. It's only when Colin slips away from the rest of the pack that Trent realises what his evening in Amsterdam will be.

There's only one reason he could imagine Colin, usually in the thick of things, would want to separate himself from the pack. He's going somewhere he can be himself. And Trent knows that this is his chance to speak to and encourage him.

He realises, unfortunately too late, that following him to the club might not have been the best option. Colin looks genuinely terrified at seeing him there and Trent can't blame him. He doubts he could ever fully understand the level of paranoia Colin's daily life entails.

When he finally manages to calm the kid down enough to get him to sit down and talk over a couple of beers, the last thing he's expecting is for the conversation to be exactly what he needs to hear too. But Colin turns out to have quite the way with words.

"All I want," Colin explains, eyes filled with longing and wistfulness, "is for when we win a match, to be able to kiss my fella the same way the guys get to kiss their girls."

Trent smiles at that, thinking about a particular fella that he'd like to kiss after a big Richmond win.

"And I know we can't fix every ache inside of us," Colin continues. "But I shouldn't have to pretend it's not there either."

This, more than anything, shakes Trent to his core. His longing for Ted is an ache. One that he doesn't know if it's possible to fix, but he's given himself one Hail Mary in the form of a prearranged grand romantic gesture and by god if this kid hasn't just given him the courage to just go for it.

He could never regret this conversation with Colin, but after a somewhat failed attempt at sharing an historical titbit about Anne Frank, he can't help but wonder what a night in Amsterdam with Ted might have been like after all.

Some of the confidence regarding his new resolve to do the big ill-advised romantic gesture wanes a bit in the week after Amsterdam. Ted is so busy trying to find a team strategy that will work, that Trent is sure the last thing on his mind is his love life.

But then Trent sees it. In their match against Arsenal, he can see the pieces connecting. The team are doing it. They're doing total football. A week ago, they weren't doing anything close to it, but this week, here, at this match, they're doing it. They trust Ted that much that they were willing to try it. And not only try it – actually do it with their whole hearts.

It's the Lasso Effect at its full power. And they're going to fucking win the Premier League. He knows it now.

He has to tell Ted after the match. He can't contain his excitement. Ted's going to do it. He's going to fucking do it. And not because he's an amazing football manager. Not because he's a tactical genius.

No, it's because he's Ted Lasso, and he genuinely cares about what he's doing and the people who are doing it with him.

Christmas Eve, now only a week away, cannot come quickly enough.

***

Ted spends all of August trying to fend off questions about whether or not he's going to meet Isolated in Islington. But he wouldn't trade it for the world, because every time is a reminder that Henry is right there, at arm's reach. With him.

Ted's heart is heavy.

The handover at the end of the summer is the hardest one yet. But it's also somehow one of the better ones because of Trent.

He was nervous when Trent offered them a ride to the airport, but Henry was so excited about the idea and Ted was so worried about being alone afterwards that he agreed. And he's glad he did because it ends up being a great time, all things considered. In any case they manage to patch up things between them, and for Ted, that's monumental. He's willing to pretend that what happened between them was a mistake, as much as it hurts, if it means holding onto Trent as a friend.

Zava turns out to be both as impressive as advertised and a huge disappointment in the long run. It's wonderful to have a winning streak to their name – he knows after the disappointment of the Chelsea game, it's a relief for Rebecca. He can, unfortunately, see that it's getting to Jamie, but there's not much he can do about it. As far as team strategy goes, they've got a good thing going, and he can't shake it up for one player. Not without having to field interrogation from all sides including his fellow coaches, the press, Rebecca, and even Trent.

But then, he starts noticing the rest of his team slipping further and further back. He sees how their victories start paling next to their feeling of boredom out on the pitch. By the time they reach the West Ham game, his team is in dire straits, but Ted can't bring himself to focus enough to deal with it, because at the same time, he's accidentally spoken to Dr Jacob for the first time since his last marriage counselling session.

The West Ham match is a blur to Ted. Only three things stick out in his memory of it:

One, the generally sick feeling that came over him every time he thought about how Dr Jacob used to give him marriage advice, only to swoop in the minute his marriage was over.

Two, the anger he felt at Roy and Beard showing the team the footage of Nate tearing up the sign that's come to mean so much to them. It was the last thing the team needed and it made them play the worst match Ted's ever seen them play.

Three, the feeling of helplessness he felt, both at the way his team was playing, and at the way that this awful, unethical psychologist was now around his son far more than he was. That he was the one giving his son rides to soccer practice and helping him with his math homework.

His call with Michelle after the match offers some catharsis, but is ultimately not that helpful. He's exhausted, drawn, and all he wants to do is go to bed. Just as he's about to, however, he gets a call from Trent.

"Hey, Trent," he says, not really in the mood for any of his usual affectations.

"Hi, Ted," says Trent. "I've just managed to get Squish to bed, so I thought I would call and see how you're doing after the match today. We were watching. It looked brutal."

"Yeah, well, they saw your footage," says Ted, a little more biting than he means to be.

"Oh," says Trent. "Yes, I was wondering why they looked like they were out for blood. That explains it."

"Yeah," says Ted, voice still strained with the effort of not completely losing it. He's so angry and hurt and tired he could explode, but he doesn't want it to be at Trent. "Listen, Trent, I appreciate that you might still be trying to work the journalism out of your system, but the next time you find a big scoop that might affect the mental state of my players, I'd appreciate if you ran it by me first."

There's silence on the other end for a moment before Trent's voice comes back, smaller than Ted's ever heard it.

"I'm so sorry, Ted. I really am. And look, I know this doesn't excuse anything by any means, but by way of explanation, let me just say that I think I was trying to get you to feel as angry about the Nate situation as I am. I just… he cost me my career, you know? I liked being a journalist. It wasn't necessarily what I imagined I'd be doing with the rest of my life, but I was good at it. I was a bloody good sports journalist and all it took was one story for it all to fucking collapse."

"That wasn't entirely Nate's fault," says Ted, closing his eyes as though trying to prevent every thought he's currently having from leaving his head. "You didn't have to share that with me. I mean, I appreciate that you did. But you could direct a little of that anger my way."

Trent sighs deeply.

"You know that I can't."

Ted knows that that might be true. He rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"Look, Trent, I have to believe that people are able to be forgiven. I just have to. Because otherwise, when I get back to Henry, when I have to explain to him why I was out of his life for so long… I have to…"

It's the tipping point. He collapses onto the armchair behind him as huge undignified sobs wrack his body. He hates that he's crying like this. He hates that he's crying like this while Trent can hear it. It doesn't matter. There's nothing he can do to stop it at this point.

"Ted, Ted, listen to me," says Trent. "Your son loves you, okay? Whenever that boy isn't at your side looking up at you like you personally hung the sun, he's telling anyone who will hear that you're the coolest dad in the world. Whatever happens, I know that that child knows how much you love him, okay?"

Ted nods, but realises Trent can't hear him.

"I'm gonna hang up now," Ted says. "But it's not because you aren't making a great point. I just think half the battle is that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a week and I need to crash. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work, Ted," says Trent. He sounds concerned.

Ted pulls himself together enough to put together two packs of shortbread, writing a short note in Trent's one.

Trent – thank you for your kindness last night. I needed to hear that. But I hope that you'll eventually find it in your heart to forgive too. It'll help you feel better too.

He ties it all together with a bit of ribbon he has left from his Christmas in July wrapping and the sunflower hair clasp that he still hasn't returned and leaves it on Trent's desk the next morning for when he comes in.

When Trent opens it and reads the note, he turns in his chair to make eye contact with Ted, smiles, and nods, and Ted feels one of the weights on his heart fall away.

Of course, with Zava leaving and the team having played backup the whole season so far, there's a lot of catch up to do. But it's a challenge that keeps Ted's mind on the game and not everywhere else. For a while, he finds himself able to disappear into managing the headspace of his team, Roy's ideas for stamina and speed training, Beard's best stabs at strategies for them to try.

The only exception to his new workflow is a fairly big scare in the form of reports of Henry bullying another classmate. And Ted doesn't quite know how to feel about the fact that it seems to resolve itself. By the time they talk, Henry seems to have the scope of what he's done wrong and has even apologised the kid for it. Did Michelle talk to Henry about it? Did Dr Jake? There's no way for Ted to know but there's not much more for Ted to add. The thought breaks his heart.

With difficulty, he decides to take it for what it is: a sign that his kid, for the time being, seems to be okay without him. Another weight drops from his heart.

He continues to ignore Henry's nagging about meeting Isolated in Islington. He doesn't have time to think about that. Instead, he decides to focus on the promise he's made to Henry, to the team, to himself: winning the whole thing.

It's in Amsterdam that everything starts coming together.

The so-called friendly match is a disaster and the only thing Ted can do for himself and the rest of the team to make it okay is to give them all a night to let loose.

Somehow, to Beard, this gets translated as "get Ted high", but Ted is so out of ideas at this point that he's willing to try anything. He almost doesn't try it when it's presented to him as a tea, even if it does bring back a fond memory of Trent trying and failing to play it cool after burning his mouth on the foul stuff. Eventually though, Ted decides if he's going to give himself half a chance at anything new, he needs to try something new, so he downs the tea and heads to the front desk to ask about the nearby museums.

He ends up at the Van Gogh museum, specifically in front of the famous "Sunflowers" painting, just staring. He's seen it plenty before, in prints and in digital pictures. He didn't realise, seeing it up close, that it would be possible to see the individual brush strokes. He alternates between being pulled so closely into the details that all he sees is paint in various shades of yellow, green, and blue, to looking at the whole thing and feeling himself trembling at a brand new thought.

He's grown up with sunflowers his whole life. Adorned on any bit of kitsch to do with Kansas. The great big fields he'd drive past on road trips. The ones his mother grew in the backyard and always had in a vase in the kitchen. The ones on his father's grave. The one or two in Michelle's wedding bouquet. It was his state flower, part of growing up in Kansas.

So why, in his mind, do sunflowers only belong to Trent now?

His thoughts are interrupted by a museum guide who shares a Van Gogh quote with him. And, as beautiful as it is, it's his next statement that really sends Ted reeling.

"When you find beauty, you find inspiration. When you know you're doing what you're meant to do, you have to try."

Of course, he realises this applies to his team, and absolutely tonight is about figuring out what the next step there is, but…

But Trent had looked like a sunflower earlier, with his bright yellow shirt and peppery dark hair. So beautiful. And Ted knows he could keep pretending that he doesn’t want him with his whole heart. It would kill him, but he knows he could do it. But there's a part of him, a far bigger part, that wants to give it one more try. That kiss hadn't been nothing. And he owes it to himself to see what could be. To take his own medicine and believe for once.

He accepts the notebook from the guide and decides to make his way to the glimmer of home he's hoping to find in the Yankee-Doodle Burger Barn. As looming as it all is, he can think about Trent in a bit. Right now he has to fix his team.

Eight hours and one placebo-induced drug trip later, Ted has it. At least, he thinks he does. He doesn’t know if it will work – Beard will know more about that than he does – but it's something. And another weight drops from his heart.

He loses the final one a week later.

Total football turns out to be a lot trickier to implement than Ted initially thought it would be. He knew it would be a lot of work to some extent, but he thought that because it was designed to get the team looser it wouldn't be the monumental challenge it's turning out to be. But here they are, playing against Arsenal, still struggling to work together the way he imagined.

But Jamie – proving once again to Ted that his football career will be long and storied – comes to the rescue at half time, explaining where the team is going wrong in the simplest way possible. Ted could absolutely smother him in a hug right now, but he thinks he'll leave that to Roy. He's noticed that he and Jamie seem to be even cosier since Amsterdam and lord help the poor soul that interferes with something Roy Kent cares about.

They still lose, but the second half is absolutely beautiful to watch. The team play off of each other seamlessly. They still seem to be finding their feet, but Ted can see that they finally get it. And that they're having fun. And crowd is having fun watching them have fun.

He's never been prouder to be their manager.

The absolute cherry on top of his success sundae is when Trent quite literally tears into the corridor after the match, looking for him specifically.

"Ted!" he says as he barges through the doors. "It's going to work."

"Great," says Ted, confused as to what could get the cool and catlike Trent Crimm all riled up like a jackrabbit in spring. "What is?"

"Total football." Ted is still confused. "And I'll tell you why. The Lasso Way."

This causes even more confusion. He's only ever heard The Lasso Way used derisively. Used in a biting tone when he does things a little differently or something he tries doesn't work out. He's never heard it said so excitedly with such optimism and hope.

"You haven't switched tactics in a week," Trent continues.

He definitely has. This whole week has been nothing but a new tactic.

"I haven't?" Ted asks, still baffled.

"No! You've done this over three seasons."

Oh. Maybe it was meant to be a little bit derisive then.

"I have?"

"Yes," Trent explains, "by slowly building a club-wide culture of trust and support through thousands of imperceptible moments, all leading to their inevitable conclusion – total football."

Ted tries to believe himself a humble man, one not prone to basking in praise, but something about the way Trent is talking about him, about his achievements, about the achievements of the team, makes Ted want to live in this moment forever.

Trent, Ted realises, is proud of him. Is truly, one hundred percent rooting for him. And Ted feels the final weight on his heart drop as he soars away with it.

"Well how about that," he says, mostly responding to Trent's excited babble, but also to this new feeling of weightlessness and just… happiness that he hasn't felt in months.

And then Trent does the absolute cutest little giddy gesture and Ted knows beyond a shadow of any doubt, he could never be more in love with anyone than he is with Trent right now.

Trent exits the corridor, leaving behind two coaches bemused and one absolutely besotted.

"What a fucking dork," says Roy, not without his own brand of affection.

"Yeah," shrugs Ted, aware of how his feelings are probably plastered across his face, "but he's our dork."

He doesn't miss the knowing look the other two coaches give each other.

Henry calls him later that night to discuss the match.

"It was so cool, dad!" he says. "Do you think Jamie and Roy will teach me how it works the next time I'm there?"

"I'm sure they'd love to, Bud," says Ted, heart so full it could burst.

"Awesome!" says Henry. "Are you still sure you can't come here for Christmas?"

"I'm sure," says Ted, a little pang marring his happiness for a moment. "I have the big Boxing Day match. But that's what Christmas in July was for, remember?"

"Yeah," says Henry, the disappointment in his voice palpable, but as soon as he looks glum, he perks up again. "Hey, that means you can go meet Isolated in Islington!"

"Oh, Bud, no," says Ted. "I can't do that."

He can't do that because it doesn't matter who this Isolated in Islington is, he's got his heart set on Trent. He can't imagine anyone else holding a candle to him, no matter how convinced his son is that this mystery person is his soulmate. He's not ready to tell Henry everything about Trent though, and therein lies the pickle.

"Why not?" says Henry. "Dad, you only get a chance like this once. This person sounds so perfect for you. Can't you just go and see?"

"Look, Kiddo, I really want to be with you on this one," says Ted with a sigh, "but it wouldn't be fair to whoever I'm meeting. I couldn't give them what they're looking for. I'm not saying no because I don't think it's a beautiful idea. I need you to trust that I'm saying no for a good reason, okay? One that you might not understand right now, but I hope you will soon."

Henry doesn't respond. He looks sad, then angry and when Michelle takes the phone from him after a few minutes of pained silence, she also looks concerned.

"He'll come around, Ted," she says. "There's a lot going on at the moment and I think it's just a lot for him to process. Give him a day to cool off and I'm sure he'll be back to his normal self."

But the next day and the day after that when Ted calls, he just gets an apologetic Michelle.

Ted feels some of the weights return.

They all return a few days later, on December 23rd, when Michelle calls him in tears.

"Ted," she says. "Ted, I'm so sorry. Jake took him to the airport and signed him in. He says he got a message from me, but it seems like Henry sent it. Apparently he's safe and I'm on the flight right behind him but oh god."

Ted is about to throw up. He's never heard Michelle this panicked. Ever.

"Hey, it's alright, I'm here," he says, trying to reassure her. "What's going on?"

"Henry's booked himself onto a flight to the UK. Jake helped sign him in."

And then Ted does throw up.

Final Chapter

[siristaci]

I need to tell y'all about this Mongolian barbeque place in my city that was... something special.

But first, a little about me. I hate trying new things, had a really bad immune system (I promise that's relevant), have a hard time processing accents that makes talking to people with heavy accents anxiety-inducing, and another thing I was going to point out but can't remember right now. Hopefully I'll remember before posting this and amend it.

It's been closed for a few years, so you also need to keep in mind that my memories of this place are, at most recent, about 8 years old.

Y'all. Once I was finally convinced to try this place (about 17 years ago), I fucking loved it. Went as often as I could afford.

There were always only two people running the place- an Asian woman, who acted as the host/waitress/cashier and spoke just enough heavily-accented english to get by, and an Asian man, who was the cook and spoke even less english.

The place was dark and dirty. There's not a chance in hell it ever passed health inspections. The back corner of the dining area was difficult to see from the front (impossible when you first walked in and were day-blind) and no dining customers were ever sat there. There were, however, usually at least a couple of businessmen looking guys sat there who, if they spoke to each other at all, were too quiet to be heard from just a few tables away. They were rarely eating; just sitting there doing idk what. I didn't look often nor long because I just had this overwhelming feeling that it was best not to pay too much attention to them.

When you arrived, the woman would chat with you about what's been going on in your life since she last saw you (she had an excellent memory, even remembering me a few years since the last time I'd been there) as you were seated at booths whose seats no longer had functional springs and asked what you want to drink. You had to ask what drinks they had, since there was no menu. And no sign saying how much anything cost at all.

The food was set out in a buffet style. You'd load up a bowl with meat, veggies, and sauce, and hand it off to the guy, who would cook it and give it back to you. How long had the food been sitting out? Who knows? I went at various times of the day and never saw anything get refilled.

But the food was good, and I never got sick, despite the aforementioned terrible immune system. It was a tad pricey, but definitely a worthwhile treat.

After it closed, I was heartbroken and needed to find a replacement. I went to reddit to see if anyone had any recommendations. Or any idea why it had closed. Sure, it never had many customers at any given time. I think the most tables filled (by dining customers anyway) at once was 3 out of the maybe 12 available. But that had been the case for the 15 years I'd been going. Declining patronage couldn't be the answer.

I couldn't find a ton of references to the place; just a handful of posts asking the same questions I was. Any good replacements? And what happened?

But the responses were many. A few comments recommending the same three places. A lot of people sad to learn that it was closed or reminiscing about how good it was and how long it had been there- while most experiences had the same negative things to say as I did (health code concerns and a wariness of the men in the back), nearly everyone agreed that it had been a great place.

And there was a universally agreed-on theory that it had been a money-laundering scheme that was no longer needed.

Ah. Yeah, that makes sense, actually.

But here's the funny part. Recently, another post reminded me of this place. And I wanted to read those reviews again, but I didn't want to use reddit because, well.

So I just googled it. It's hard to find any reference to it at all since it's closed, never had a website, and it's name was similar to a national (maybe global? I don't care enough to look it up) fast food chain. All I could really find were old Yelp reviews.

Nobody on Yelp liked this place.

There were only two good reviews. One was just the same "LOVE this place! GREAT food and great atmosphere! Other things in all caps and lots of exclamation marks!" you see everywhere, and the other was this.

Y'all

Anyway, I just find it funny that everyone- myself, the people I introduced it to, the people I know who already knew of it, reddit, and yelp- all had pretty much the same experience, but reddit (and the people I know)- who all agreed it was sketchy all around- loved it and yelp- who only had health code concerns- hated it.

[random-nerd-queer]

@sunnybugz here's your birthday present.

It was just enough day at the office for Brennan, Cam, and Angela. That was until Brennan’s phone started ringing, it was Booth as usual. He really was the only reason Brennan was answering her phone recently, she had started working on a new novel and when she’s in the zone she is in the zone. As Angel found out one night when she tried to bring her some take out and it ended up on the floor when she startled Brennan. 

The body was a bit too fleshy for Brennan’s taste when they arrived, so they called in Cam. It was like time slowed down when Cam walked in, Brennan could barely keep herself breathing. She didn’t like it. She didn’t have control. But at the same time it was exhilarating. She felt like she could trust Cam, with anything. Even when she was knee deep in people parts. 

Brennan was back in her office, pouring over case files and book ideas. She just couldn’t focus. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Cam’s dress hugs all her curves just right. How fast her brain moves when it comes to a body. How smart she is. How she can just talk to people, people she likes, people she’s interested in. Even people she hates. Brennan couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or maybe something else she was feeling towards Cam. She had never felt something like this before. She felt something similar for Booth but that was just her disdain for his brash acts and disrespect of science. Cam was different, Cam was her equal. They were scientists, rational, logical. Nothing about this feeling was logical. Angela knocked on the door, breaking Brennan out of her stupor. 

“Hey, you’ve been staring at that paper for a while now. You alright sweetie?”

A warmth bubbled in Brennan. Safety, home. 

“Yeah, I’m just thinking. Weird case.”

“Yeah right. No weirder than any case before. Actually I think it was significantly less weird than some we’ve had. The boy with the bleeding heart? The slave ship. Not to mention the buried pirate treasure.”

Brennan gave a dry laugh. Angela was right, this case wasn’t the weirdest they’ve had but it felt weirder. Something was different. 

“Do you remember that case, the one where we got locked in the lab for Christmas because Hodgins got drunk? Lucky Lionel, Booth called him”

“Yeah. The one Booth pawned off on me so he didn’t have to do paperwork. What about it?”

“Do you ever think about them? Ivy Gillespie and her granddaughter. What they’re up to now?”

“Ivy died, last year. Lisa graduates this year. She’s going to be a doctor, got her internship at Johns-Hopkins” 

“Look at you, caring about people.”

“They send me a card every Christmas” 

Angela had made herself comfortable on Brennan’s sofa like she always did when Brennan got stuck too far in her head. She’d been in this position far too often recently, but Brennan wasn’t budging on what was truly bothering her. Usually she would give after a little bit of talking, but lately she’d been shut tight. Nothing was slipping through her wall. A wall Angela had spent years breaking down, but Brennan had been building it back up recently. Brennan sat down next to Angela, leaning into her side. 

“What was your favorite case?”

“Agne, what are you talking about?”

“Your favorite case. You know, the one you think about on nights when you need a feel good story. Something to rival, It’s a Wonderful Life”

Brennan was silent for a moment, leaning deeper into Angela who started running her hand through Brennan's hair. 

“Do you remember Samantha Winslow?”

“Yeah yeah, the deaf girl who was kidnapped, she ended up killing a man” 

“I think of her and her parents. Reunited after all those years and they loved her just the same. Her and that pink bunny.”

It fell quiet between the two of them after that. Angela just stroking Brennan’s hair, Brennan lost in her own world. 

The sun came up, Cam came in. The light in Brennan’s office was still on. When she peeked around the corner she found Brennan and Angela asleep, curled up on each other on Brennan’s couch. Cam snapped a picture before laying a blanket on the two and closing the door, letting them sleep on until work needed to be done. 

Brennan woke up with a sore back but a heart full of love. Angela was still asleep. Brennan pulled herself away, replacing the blanket when she was finished. Angela looked so soft, so peaceful, sleeping there. Even if she was going to have a wicked crick in her neck when she woke up. Brennan went to the decontamination shower before settling into her desk for the day. Somehow she felt better. Better than she’d felt in the past few days. Maybe all she needed was a good night's sleep. Or at least that’s what she thought. 

Angela woke up about mid-day, no case had come in so it was a quiet day at the office. Brennan was deep in her writing, so much so she didn’t even notice Angela get up and leave. Angela didn’t go very far though. Her phone buzzed as she left Brennan’s office, Cam had sent her the picture from that morning. Angela knocked on Cam’s door.

“Hey Cam”

“Hey Ange”

Angela gave Cam a small kiss on her cheek.

“You two looked so cute this morning I couldn’t help myself. Have you asked her yet?”

“No. She’s got this wall that I just can’t seem to break down. Like she doesn’t want anyone to get close to her again. I don’t know what’s wrong”

“Hey hey sweetheart, this is not on you. I know you want to be there for her, but if she doesn’t want you there then you can’t force it. She’ll come to you when she’s ready”

“I know but I don’t want her to go back to how she was. Closed off. No friends. Only her work to keep her company. I want her to thrive, to know she’s loved”

Angela sat on Cam’s lap, wrapped in her girlfriend's arms. Everything would be okay.

It's not perfect but I wanted to get it done before midnight, at least midnight my time.

[honeybeewhereartthee]

NO NAME ENTRE: LEMONADE AND JOB

.

.

.

.

.

Omae, are you curious what I do in this place? Of course, I’m not a maid of that butterfly! He only forces me to wear this outfit and curse me to wear this because he told me something. Thatyoumightlikemewearingone… it’s so embarrassing at first but then I realize its probably something that person would also be embarrass about, it made me think if I get over these feelings, I have wearing this damn cloth it means I’ll be different from that original. Never mind the chat about him, I don’t want to sound insecure about myself… I don’t think I am.

Anyway, I am not and about my job. I actually have to go to different au about stuff… ahm, this is supposed to be classified information that one needs to keep to only ourselves. But I think your fine knowing the some of it. Clearly, if your reading this it means its fine with that butterfly perfectionist for you to learn some of the stuff.

Anyway, there are some dead aus… because … the world has stopped their stories… It’s something called “discontinued” and the people in that aus have this place where they don’t reach the certain end the person who made those stories able to visualize for it. There many reasons why that’s the case, but those “discontinued” au are pretty… sad. I don’t really care about it much, some of those au. They don’t have a version of you in it—not that I would care for any version of yours in another place, they are different people than you are. So, don’t worry about it.

Anyway, because of what I did before… those sad disconnected world… went downhill than they already are, oops. I honestly would not feel bad about it cause I don’t really care and beside, they are starting to make their own ending outside the fate that was written to them—which is a bad thing for the butterfly guardian, he said those stories is going OFF to much from the main plot those stories are suppose to be leading.

 Some normal stories slowly turn to supernatural genre and some romance stories become a tragedy. Suddenly there’s technology in a supposed to be old English theme world. How funny was that? Anyway, the butterfly doesn’t think its funny sight and I have to go with Mikejima to fix those worlds. Because one day, a hopeful day the stories will continue and reach the ending they are meant to have.

I think that’s an absurd daydreaming of that butterfly, some stories are never going to have their ending. That’s just how stories work sometimes. Endings… are not meant for everybody. Anyway, everybody does not include me. If no one going to continue the stories, I will take you away from our world and live in the gallery, we can watch the stories of the worlds of the other gem goes by without our proper end, because I don’t think endings are everything in the world, ill be fine if I’m with you after all.

 To end that such dramatic note, I actually go to our world to see you sometimes. I am sure to wear disguise all those times, since that butterfly don’t want me to intervene with the hundred and so turns.

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Certain angel look around as he notice that his landlord is not around again, he open a portal to his world as he steps in, he made a mini lemonade and candy booth in the side of the street as he wear a black shades over his eyes, he prepare the lemonade and candies before he seat there waiting for a moment, before people start to walk by and brought some lemonade and candies,

.

he silently sell some of the things he sells, even though he don’t need the money, as always some folks whos into maids flirt with him but he ignored those before he try to unalive some fae if he get some chance or run out proper mindset. A few hours later, he saw someone walking to the booth and looking at the lemonade that almost run out once again. He almost felt his heart beat fasten but he controls himself.

“hihi, I don’t know your selling lemonade again, miss lemonade.” You were a regular customer of the same mysterious lemonade and candy shop called “Miss-me-a Lemonade”. He nodded even so you mistaken his gender again, but it only means you don’t see through his disguise!

 You seat on the chair in front of the mini booth as the other customer left through he turn to wink at the angel and says:”if you need some good time. Just call me~ pretty angel”

And once he left there’s only have the two of you left in the booth.

“I’ll get my usual order as usual.” You mumble as you look at candies, wondering which one to choose from this time around, you saw some angel wings, bees, bunny and flowers and decided to buy those. Taking all the candies that is left from his shop you start to count your allowance that was given by your cousin a day ago. through some thoughts comes in your mind that you try to not think so much about at the moment, there is candy in front of you after all.

The world might have stop from ending, your still not someone who work to have your own money, good thing your cousin still gives money! “how much does one cost again… ahm… I remember I brought from this shop few turns ago…” you start to mumble as you wonder if you have enough coins for it. He watches you silently, wanting to reach out to you but stop himself from doing so.

“omaeee!!” he heard someone called out before he saw an annoying fake running up to you, fallowed by that stupid rabbit. “why did you run again?” he watches as the other him held your hand, he already can feel his hand wanting to strangle someone but he keeps his act and don’t. it’s bad if he did something bad after all.

“I saw familiar shop. So, I come by to buy stuff… hey ai, do you have coins with you. I think I need I need more to pay.” You shamelessly ask your best friend who sigh and take out his pocket. 

“hey, why not ask me then.” The fake tried to get good boy points but the three stared at him. “this is the world of Fae. Do you have coins from this world?” Aira ask as he give the remaining coins you needed and you smiled and went back toward the angel. as kohaku tried to reason back but failed as he realize, Aira is correct.

“hello, this is my payment…” you were about to give him the payment but he raises his [ stop] board. And another one that says [ its free] he really doesn’t want to make you pay for anything since he wanted to give those for you.

 “ehh… really?” your eyes sparkle in glee but behind you, you don’t notice how those two are giving the angel a look, a nasty look. “that sound like suspicious. We can pay!” Aira give the bill he has to the angel but the seller quickly dodges the money and ignore him afterward. [ yup its free for you] was the board says next. And you stared at him, he almost felt your looking deep into his soul.

“oooohhh… free stuff is free stuff! Not accepting free things is a sin!” you quickly start to eat the candies and sip the lemonade as the other two take the two seats besides you. The angel really wants those two to leave so he could have a quality time with you but he has to deal with those bitches and imagine they are not there.

While you guys have your snack, he felt you looking at his direction to the point he starts to blush from being gaze by you.

“mcchi, why are you looking too much to the maid cosplayer person?” aira wave a hand in front of you as you sip your drink and staring at the nameless angel. “I never seen another angel Fae other than ei and tatsu.” You began. Staring at him from head to haft of his body that can be shown from the other side of the booth. “did you run away from Eden because they can’t handle pretty angel like you miss?” You commented before the two people besides you almost drop the glass of lemonade they are drinking.

“…” the angel quickly turns his head, embarrass of what his spouse said to him. Or rather how happy of your compliment.

“mcchiiiii are you hitting on the cosplayer….!? Mcchi do you really want to beat the dollmaker and their flings????” aira start to shakes you, wanting to question why your hitting on someone. “ehh… I’m not?” you were confused by aira words as your nom some candies.

 “I don’t think ill handle such harem. Besides what is wrong complimenting someone? Was compliment only meant flirting?” you chuckle as you pat aira, trying to calm him down and drink some lemonade.

 “…oh yeah… sorry. I don’t know how to handle another one if your going to get another rival for me!” he hugs you and kohaku who been silent stared at the angel for a while.

 “love-han is so silly. Its only complimenting.” Through he said that, he doesn’t trust this lemonade seller at all.

“…”  the angel takes a deep breath and compose himself before he wrote something again in a board and give it to you. [ you don’t need to compliment me for the food, they are really free since you’re my last customer for the day]

“ehh…I don’t do it cause of the sweets.” You mumble as you turn your back from the view point of Aira and Kohaku as you wrote something in another board and close it before other two can see what you wrote. 

The angel raises his brow but decide to check it later once his back to the gallery. “what did you write?”

“my phone and social number, since you two think I’m flirting with miss lemonade.” You stood up from you seat as you drink the juice.

 “we still need to go find hanii’s mom. I think Ei would know where she is. Lets goo” you pulled the two away and when you three where gone as the angel watch your finger disappear from his sight, he starts to clean up his booth and when his about to leave he remember the note you give him.

 [ Hanii your so pretty in your maid cloths. I don’t know it was you before… maybe cause im stress by the end thing in the previous turns. Your lemonade are the best and candies too. I hope you don’t put noir on those again.

Press this cute heart for surprise -> <3]

 He almost drop the board when he realize you finally able to see through him and accidentally press the heart, you appeared before him and pulled his face down for a sweet kiss in the lips as you giggle when you pause the time around you. Seeing his widen and bashful face as you move away you put a red lipstick and kissing his apron that can be seen clearly by others, using magic to make it stay no matter what. 

“I will only flirt to my hanii. So remember that, miss lemonade.” You giggle after you marked his outfit, through you kiss him again and made sure the lipstick stick. His face turn bright red, not even his sun glasses can stay in put when you pulled him again for another kiss, a passionate one. 

“I don’t like that fae flirting with you, I don’t compliment you yet. How dare he.” You mumble feeling bitter about earlier. You only notice that its hanii when you felt jealous about it. You usually wont care and laugh it off, but unless its hanii you wont.

 “o-omae…” he called out to you before, he almost curse when he felt a portal appear behind him and pull him inside, it seems his landlord have learn his little job when he mention your name and now the butterfly is going to nag at him again.

“see you later!” you wave at him and he shyly wave back before the portal close and you teleported back as the time continued again. You stared at the two who look at you in disbelief.

“where did you go and why did the time stop just now?”

“I flirted with miss lemonade.” You casually says.

“*GASP! Mcchi?!”(aira, he cannot believe your into cosplayer now.)

“omae did you really flirt to someone else?” (kohaku, who now thinking of how to take care of the new rival) “am I wearing a green hat?”

“ehh, I don’t ntr, hanii. Why would i?” ‘how does that work when im just flirting with hanii too?hmm… I don’t remember why hanii is two people now… should I ask miss lemonade next time? Ehh, I don’t think hanii would want me to snoop again and learn any of his plan again…’ you thought as you held the two hand who tried to question you more about your new ‘fling’ the miss lemonade lady.

[everybodysenemies]

Forgiveness

The last person Ran expected to see on their way out of work was her. Hell, Ran didn't even know she was still alive and a huge part of them wished she had died a long time ago, slowly and painfully like she deserved, so it was a bummer that she was alive and Ran couldn't hide the scowl in their face when their grey eyes met a mirror of their own. She looked good, actually. She looked...... Clean.

"Oh Janna almighty, look at you.... My sweet Ran-Ran, you're so grown up and pretty..." The tone may seem sweet for some, but for Ran? Too sweet, sweet enough to give them cavities. She reached out and in that moment the whole world seemed to stop spinning. Her slender, pale hand came to take theirs and Ran's eyes widened in shock. The touch was foreign, wrong. Ran pulled away from her grasp as if the touch itself burned, which it did on an emotional level. Faster than Ran could comprehend, three people had placed themselves in front of Ran, shielding her from Daye. Dustin stood tall, imposing despite his thin figure. Lock himself was enough to make most run for their lives and Oba, the shortest but seemingly meanest. They all stood there, shielding Ran from the source of all their trauma and Ran couldn't help but smile softly at how her friends stood up for them there, when they needed the most.

"I am not here to hurt her, I just wish to speak to my daughter..." Daye reasoned with them, yet, none moved, not even an inch. Ran knew they'd chase her away and escort them into theit doorstep if they said the words but.... Something inside them wanted to hear her, it was the first time they saw their mother as.... A person and not one of those junkies that looked more like corpses than actual people. "I... I want to hear what she has to say..." Ran said, a gentle hand on Lock's arm, then a small smile at Oba, who retreated. Dustin stood his ground though. "Ran, you don't have to do this..." He told them and they nodded, smiling as they touched his shoulder. "I know...." He turned to them and frowned, leaning in to touch his forehead against theirs in a gesture that was more fraternal than anything else. "You know what to do if anything goes south...." He said and they nodded. "Yeah, I know...." He turned once more to Daye and threw her the dirtiest look he could before moving to leave.

"I see you have very protective friends...." Daye commented and Ran nodded curtly. "They have a reason to be protective and you know it.... Cut the crap, what do you want?" Ran crossed their arms. From up close, the resemblance between the two was even more noticeable, Daye's hair was longer though, even bangs neatly cut while the rest of her hair was tied up into a bun and full lips tinted with lipstick... She looked almost human.

"why don't we talk over some coffee, hm? I'm sure there's so much to catch up t--" Daye was interrupted by Ran's harsh words. "Don't talk to me like we're friends, I am willing to listen to you and then you're going to leave me alone, are we clear?" They hissed, hands closing into fists as they knew their temperament was getting out of control and they didn't want that. They took a deep breath before resuming their stoic demeanor. "Coffee..." They nod and follow her as she walks around. Many people stop to stare at Ran and the woman and Ran offers them a curt nod. Being Sevika's adoptive child made Ran well known by the zaunites and many of those knew the sad story behind their adoption, which was the reason of the many judgemental stares Daye received.

They stopped at a small coffee, the owner knew Sevika, and knew Ran as well and was well aware of what to do in case things went wrong, a couple waiters stood by, as if waiting, watching. Ran sat on a booth apart from others with Daye and they ordered a black coffee while Daye ordered hers. "Ran-Ran, I--

"Don't.."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't call me that..." Ran had visibly shuddered at the once loving nickname their mother had for them, and despite having a sad look cross her face, Days obliged. "Very well, Ran.... I came here to talk to you about what happened while we still lived together...."

"mommy..?" Ran barely knew their words. They were two, turning three and the only words they knew were mommy and no. Their mother, too stoned out if her mind to teach them something other than that.

"You know why I'm doing this, Ran-Ran.... You know I wouldn't have to do this if you were a good girl for mommy..." Despite the sweet words, there was no sentiment to them as they left the woman's mouth, only a cold ess, resentment. "I know you meddled with mommy's shimmer syringe, and you know mommy told you not to, right? You know what bad girls who don't listen to mommy get, don't you?" The woman held a bat that resembled a cricked bat, almost as bit as her while she looked over Ran, eyes neon pink from shimmer usage.

Ran shook their head. They hadn't gotten a hold of the syringe, but they did see a couple men get into their shack and meddle with it, using it all themselves, but with no words, how could they defend themselves?

"you're a bad girl, Ran...and I hate bad girls..."

Soon after that came the pain.

"Oh I remember that... I remember that well..." The words were spat venomously and despite the anguished look on Daye's face, she didn't dare to speak. "I... Have been clean for a long time now, Ran.... And a great part of my healing journey is to make amends with everyone I ever hurt while I wasn't myself..." Ran couldn't help but chuckle humorlessly. Soon the chuckle turned into a full belly laugh, no humor in it.

"you're joking right? You gotta be fucking joking..." Ran shook their head,wiping their eyes with the back of their hand. Daye sighed. "I am not, Ran.... I came here to apologize for everything I did, from being a bad mother, to leaving you.... I want to ask for forgiveness..." She said and Ran smile vanished. "What makes you think you deserve it?" They tilt their head. Daye looks down. "I struggled with my own actions too, Ran... I have been clean for a long time, I carry this guilt with me, it burdens me as well! To know how much I hurt you, to know how people look at me on the streets.... Ran, I haven't been able to get a job because everyone knows who I am and what I did to you, but I changed, I am a new person, and I want you to understand... And make the others understand too..." She said and Ran smirked. "There it is.... You're not sorry, are you? You want me to clean your name..." Oh that was so obvious, Ran felt even more naive for actually believing Daye even had it in her to feel sorry for what she did.

"well don't you think I deserve it? I changed so much, I worked so ha--"

"You didn't do more than you're fucking job.... Being a decent fucking human being is the least you could do, don't expect me to pat you on the back for that..." Ran couldn't care less if their words sounded harsh.

"Ran, please, we can be a family aga--"

"I have a family. Those people you saw there? They are my family.... The woman who adopted me when you left me? She is my mother.... All of that despite of you..." Ran leaned forward, standing from their spot, the chair creaking loudly and alerting the waiters. "I thrived. I lived. I have a job, I have people who love me, I am happy.... None of that because if you!" The anger in their voice was thick, palpable as they gripped the sides of the table. "I do not forgive you. I will never, ever forgive you as long as I live. I don't care if people are calling you out on your mistakes, you deserve it. You deserve everything that comes to you because you were the person I loved the most and you abused me, you neglected me and you left me...." Ran's voice quivered with the strength of their emotion, tears falling freely, out of anger, sadness, anguish... So many feelings at once Ran didn't bother to catalog.

"You're lucky my omma isn't here, because if she was here, she would make sure you felt every single ounce of fear I felt every minute I spent with you.... And now you're going to walk out of here and you're never going to contact me again, and if you do, my omma will hunt you down and your last minutes will be reliving every single ounce of pain you made me go through.." Ran finished their speech and sat down, as if the conversation had drained them somehow, they looked older, they looked done.

"is there anything wrong here?" The waiter came to ask, Ran looked up at them, then at Daye. "She's leaving..." They nod towards Daye and with one swift motion, the waiter takes Daye by the arm and escorts her out of the restaurant, watching as she walks away.

Once she's out of sight, Ran allows their demeanor to crack and they sigh shakily, covering their face with their hands. "Do we need to call Sevika?" Another of the waiters came over, a seemingly young girl with fiery hair and a kind smile. Ran offered a small nod, unable to do anything else. The girl whispers something to the other waiter and he nods, leaving through the door to retrieve the Arm of Zaun.

Ran sat there, face buried into their hands as the conversation replayed over and over in their head, they couldn't cry yet, they simply couldn't, they still felt in danger, they still felt the itch in their hands, the fight or flight instinct, how their anxiety wanted them to keep moving whether it was just the tips of their fingers flexing slightly against their skull, a reminder that everything was real, that everything had happened.

She didn't deserve forgiveness.

Ran couldn't forgive her, they would never be able to do so.

But then.... Why?

Why didn't the peace come?

[does-whatever]

Art Project

Pairing: Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson 

Length: One-shot

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34406677

Based on this vid: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDGl7PXDrps

Kurt and Blaine sat down at one of the chairs in Mrs. Parker’s class, Tracy’s first grade teacher. They have been invited in one of the PTA meetings that the school held and they have decided before they got married that if they are both available, any event in their kid’s life they needed to be present and this meeting falls under the same thing.

As they settled in their chairs, they saw other parents come in. They even saw a very pregnant Rachel being assisted by Finn. They both waved at their family and quickly saved them a seat. Rachel quickly claimed the seat beside Kurt and Finn greeted his two brothers

“Hey dudes”

“Hi Finn” Blaine greeted his brother in law and waved towards Rachel

“Stop calling us dudes, Finn”  Kurt replied, as he rolled his eyes

A few minutes later, they also saw Tina make her way through the room, and as Mrs. Parker entered and as she started to close the door, they heard a man running and was not surprised to see Sam walk in all sweaty and clearly was in a rush to join the meeting.

“Sorry! My sitter ran late and Mercy is still at the studio.”

“No worries, Mr. Evans.” the teacher replied as she allowed him to sit down on one of the chairs. “Now I think we’re all settled so let’s start this meeting.”

The meeting is mostly about the teacher telling the different activities and homework she makes the kids do. She also informed the parents that there is a bake sale happening in the next month and would appreciate it if every parent donated pastries that they could sell or help in the construction of the booth, or even volunteer to sell on the day of. Proceeds from the bake sale will be donated to the homeless shelter that the school supports.

The meeting was about to end when Sam raised his hand.

“Teacher, I have a question.”

“Sure Mr. Evans”

“This week there was a video assignment for them in their art class. I was wondering if that will be a usual thing? My wife got really angry when Andy made a mess at home.” Sam replied, obviously amused by the whole thing.

“We are actually planning on doing more home video assignments for the kids. It helps them gain confidence in speaking, and it also breaks them from the usual monotonous task of answering homework pamphlets.” Mrs. Parker smiled, “but I can assure you Mr. Evans we are done with video assignments in Art class. We will be focusing on other subjects from now on.”

As other parents raised their hands to ask a question, Kurt leaned towards his husband “Did you know any video assignments that Tracy made?”

Blaine shrugs his shoulders, a sign of having also no clue. “Maybe she did it on her own in her room? I didn’t notice anything.”

Kurt sighed and smiled, “Oh our little girl is getting more independent as the day passes.”

“Yeah, I’m proud of her.” Blaine smiled back at his husband

“I just hope that is the case and not because she did not do the assignment.”

“I’m sure she did it. You know how our daughter loves sc-” Blaine suddenly stopped as he remembered something. Kurt was surprised by his husband andt turned to him

“Hon? Are you okay?” surprised by the sudden change in his husband.

Blaine didn’t reply and just held on Kurt’s hand “Kurt, I think Tracy did the assignment.”

“Yeah, we kind of established that-”

“No, I mean, I know she did the assignment.”

“How? I thought you didn’t notice anything.”

“I didn’t notice because I didn’t know! I thought that she was just filming a video for herself and practicing to be a vlogger.” Blaine explained

“Blaine…. What did you do?”

“I didn’t know, okay? I thought she was just playing.”

“Okay honey you’re getting me worried. What did you do?”

“I was… dancing and singing in the background…” he mumbled and the tips of his ears were turning red

Kurt stopped and tried to stop his laughter, and Blaine was already beaten red in the face “I have to see this video.”

“Oh god, I’m so embarrassed. Her teacher probably has seen it.”

The meeting ended without any problem, as the parents leave Kurt quickly stood up and approached Mrs. Parker

“Hi! I’m Kurt Hummel-Anderson, I’m one of Tracy’s dads.” he greeted the teacher and reached out his hand

“Hi Mr. Hummel-Anderson, how can I help you? I can assure you that Tracy is such a lovely child. She’s active in class and always helpful to the other kids.”

“I’m so happy to hear that Mrs. Parker. Actually, I was hoping to see Tracy’s art video assignment. I wasn’t at home during that time and I just want to see how well she’s doing facing the camera and her confidence level.”

Mrs. Parker  smiled and amusement evident in her eyes, she quickly understood what he was trying to do

“Oh I can assure you that Tracy has no problem with facing the camera. I think confidence definitely runs in the family.”

Kurt smiled and saw his husband approach them as he finished helping Rachel stand up. The teacher opened her laptop and turned it towards Kurt

Sam, Tina, Rachel and Finn stayed who behind to catch up with their friends started to approach Kurt as they hear a video playing, Blaine quickly ran up to his husband and said

“No no no, we don’t have to see that Kurt.”

“Oh honey, I’m just checking up on Tracy” clearly holding back his laughter.

As the video starts, they hear Tracy's voice and the first tunes of uptown funk playing in the background. As Tracy is introducing the supplies she will be using, Blaine can be seen behind her starting to dance. As the song progressed, Blaine started to do different dance moves. In the middle, he was joined by their two other sons Alex and Daniel. By the end of the video, Blaine, Alex and Daniel, are actively dancing in the background prompting Tracy to say “What is wrong with this family? I’m just trying to arts.” but she was clearly amused.

The video ended with the kids laughing at their silly father.

Once the video ends, Blaine is hiding his face in his husband's shoulder. Their friends are also greatly amused by Blaine.

“Wow, that’s so precious. Do you mind if you send me a copy of that?” Kurt said as he finished laughing

“Sure thing, Mr. Hummel-Anderson. It was nice seeing how happy your family is.”

“Well, you gotta give credit to my husband. Those moves were fantastic. Right honey?” Kurt turned to asked the still hiding Blaine

“Shudup” Blaine mumbled, face is still hidden on Kurt’s shoulders

“Okay, we have to go,  guys. Thank you Mrs. Parker. I’ll be looking forward to that video.”

“Come on, Papa We can dance some more once we get home.” Kurt said, pulling a still red but smiley Blaine

[twstinginthewind]

🫂 Ehh I actually leave it up to you if you wanna do the usual or something else.

((How about if I pick up where you left off?))

It had been such a lovely afternoon, up until that point.

Evolnation dormitory was equipped with several amenities that couldn't be found in the dorms of Joker's home school, and she was rather solidly impressed by the scope and advancement of the rehearsal areas and recording studios. And it was still boggling her mind that her hosts were three of the most popular idols in the business right now, and that they were treating her like she was the big deal! Spending time with them today really made her appreciate all the hard work that they put into their music, and even more, allowed her to see them as something better than just idols: they were incredibly human, just like anyone, and she felt as though she could happily call them friends.

Once they finished off lunch (all desserts, what a treat! She'd have to bring Trey around for inspiration sometime), Peko, Emma, and Gregory accompanied her on a tour of the grounds. Joker carefully carried along her accordion case, and Peko joked with her about the stickers covering the outside. "We'll have to get you some for our group, too!! Especially if you're able to get the tracks done today."

"Tracks?" Joker looked a little astonished. "I thought we were just going to play through the song today, I don't know if I'll be re—"

"Of course you'll be!" Peko put her hands on her hips, grinning confidently. "It'll be a cinch, just you wait!"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. "While it wouldn't hurt to try, let's not pressure Joker too much. Even professionals need proper time to rehearse." She held open the door to one of the recording booths within the studio, and the four of them filed in.

"It's not like it's choreography, Emma. Have you seen her play? It's like magic, she just presses the buttons and music happens." Peko was already bouncing around the room, excited to start.

"It's not quite like that, Peko," started Joker, as she carefully laid down her case and opened it. "You only really see the finished product, you see."

Gregory crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back against the wall, smirking, as Emma tapped her foot impatiently. "Let's at least run the song through a few times before recording anything. You want it to sound its best, don't you, Peko?"

Peko stilled for a moment. "But I just wanna hear the whole thing already! I know she can sight-read the music and still make it sound good, right? And then we can have more time to just laze around and chill together."

"Oh? Is THAT what it is, Peko?? You're just being LAZY???" Emma stepped towards Peko, pointing a finger at her as she spoke.

The two idol girls began to argue, shouting back and forth at each other as Joker stood there awkwardly, halfway into the straps for her instrument. She was surprised to feel a sudden soft pressure around her shoulders.

Gregory had left his post by the wall, and had put his arms around her, stepping close behind her. Joker's heart skipped a beat, and she froze up. He spoke into her ear. "They'll be a little while, sweetheart." He chuckled, and hugged her a little closer. "Let's give them some space to get it out of their systems, okay?" And he dragged her to the door, stunned. "We'll rehearse without them until they cool off. Let's go."