#i just started crying because i got a customer complaint because of a stupid thing

[ruiination]

// okay guys. i am recovering from a very bad mental health thingy so i will try to get to starters / replies / answers tomorrow if work isn't terrible.

[shyficwriter]

You're Not Broken, Ya Hear Me?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Yondu x Reader, guest starring Peter and other Ravagers

Summary: Based off a prompt from my friend @giulscomix where Reader is coming up on a rite of passage involving having her first sexual experience and is very nervous because she doesn't wish to partake, because she's just not interested in sex at all. (i.e: Reader is Ace or Demi) She opens up to Yondu about it after he finds her hidden away and crying about it and he helps her with her problem, making her realize she isn't broken. Inspired by and using lines from this scene in Netflix's Sex Education series.

Author’s Note: Fic is SFW. Sex is talked about (obviously), but no sexual scenes occur. This also takes place in an AU where Yondu never broke the code (yet still has Peter, make that make sense lol) and therefore was never exiled from the other Ravager clans. Also, this is a long one, probably should have broken it into chapters, but here we go lol

Word Count: 10,189

The nervousness inside you grew with every passing day. You were almost seventeen- you should be happy about this! Not filled with dread about what turning that particular year would mean. You glanced at the calendar from your bed. Only three days left.

There was a rite of passage that every young man had taken before you, and would take long after you. They all whooted for joy when their time came, but you couldn't find the enthusiasm to do so, although you did your best to fake it. And as the day grew closer, the more you had to fake it.

Maybe it was because you were the only female Ravager on Yondu's team? Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe you were just... broken? Why couldn't you just be excited about this like everyone else? That thought made your chest ache as you pulled on your boots.

You didn't want to do it, this stupid rite of passage. No, it wasn't exactly like you'd be forced into a room until you "did the deed," However, you knew to refuse would be to cement your reputation as a lame prude who wouldn't know fun if it crawled up her ass. But still, you really didn't want to.

After all, who would want their first time to just be some random fuck for the sole purpose of "Becoming a man/woman" and an "official part of the crew."? Yes, you wanted more than anything to be accepted, like Peter or the others, but you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved and cared for. Now, this isn't to say that you weren't currently a respected member of the crew, but things were just... different. You knew things would change if the others knew you didn't want to go through with it. You'd be less "one of the guys" and more "the chick with the stick up her butt." You didn't want that.

You stood and took a deep breath, readying your facade before leaving your quarters to make your way down to breakfast.

As always, there were many other Ravagers also making their way from the crew quarters down to the mess hall. And, just how it had started happening the closer it got to that dreaded date, you'd encounter someone looking to congratulate you with a clap on the back, saying things like, "Ayy! How many days is it now? Bet ya can't wait, huh?" or more often, high-fives and fist bumps as your crew mates cheered you on for your upcoming "big day."

You took it all in stride, just like every other day. Big smiles, return the high-five, maybe throw in some finger guns, toss in an affirmative and that you "couldn't wait."

But each time you died just a bit inside. How long could you put on this charade? You knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it. What was going to happen then? What would the rest of the crew say when they found out? Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal for so long, when other guys came of age it was usually forgotten by the others after a few days. However, you were going to come of age the very day of the next scheduled shore leave, which was going to happen in just a few days, and for some reason this just bred excitement among your peers and they wouldn't drop it.

You tried to put these thoughts out of your head as you entered the Mess Hall and got your breakfast.

Today you got to eat in relative peace, the attention being taken up by the story Narblik was telling about his last job on an icy planet and how he hadn't been sure he'd make it back when the blizzard hit. It was when you got up to turn in your tray and leave when a few other's started back up again.

Scrote whooped when he saw you stand, crying out a "Get 'em!" at you and someone else shouted back that you were "Gonna be a man!" until someone shouted back at them "She's a girl!" earning an apology and a correction that you were "Gonna be a woman!" that earned some laughter from the others. You knew the laughter wasn't directed at you, they weren't insulting your looks. Some species on the ship just had a hard time getting genders right because the concept of gender just wasn't a thing on their homeworlds.

You passed Horuz and a young green man named Rahi who high-fived you with an "Ayyy!" as was becoming the custom greeting for anyone wanting to congratulate you on it being almost your big day. You returned the greeting. He had just turned 17 three days before along with another young man he often ran around with, and you heard him talking with some others (There were about 5 or 6 of you all either about to turn the big 17 or who recently had since the last shore leave 3 months ago. It was an abnormally large amount of young people coming of age this time around, which you suspected was further reason why some were making such a bigger deal about this upcoming shore leave.) about being excited for shore leave, as that's when they'd be able to 'become men,' aka, would be able to find a whore to screw. Younger crew often had more of the cleaning jobs aboard the Eclector, and unless assigned with an older crew mate, didn't get to go on many away missions where they could try and woo a willing partner, and even then, Yondu liked quick turnarounds on jobs so there wasn't a whole lot off "goof off" time without being reprimanded. There was no real rule about screwing crew mates either, but most avoided it just in case things got weird after. Easier to just bang someone random on shore leave and then get back to work. No muss no fuss.

Horuz teasingly asked if you had any studs picked out yet and you just laughed and said "Ha, one of these lot? You're joking!" as you put your tray away.

You heard Yondu playfully scold the two from a couple tables over, telling them, "Oh, leave the poor girl alone, yer embarrassin' her!" as he laughed. Horuz just shouted back, "Aw now, I didn't even get to tell her about Oblo here's first time!" This was met with Oblo, who was sitting nearby, choking out a "Hey!" and punching Horuz in the arm.

Kraglin laughed now, "I think she's already heard that one! Let's not ruin anyone's meal now."

You shivered. You had heard the story before. It involved a broken member and many stitches. You weren't looking forward to hearing it again. "I'm out!" you say, looking for a way out of this conversation. "Got work to do." With that you turned and started to leave the mess hall.

"That's what I like to hear!" Yondu laughed from behind you. "Some of you lazy gits should start acting like her, don't wanna work unless yer told to." He knew you were just escaping having to hear the story again, but he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to razz up some of his crew.

You finally make your way out of the mess hall and allow your grin to fall. You run a hand over your face, making your way toward the laundry where you had been assigned to repair one of the machines. You were grateful it was both early in the week as well as early in the day as you entered the room. Most of the crew waited until they were completely out of clean clothes to do their washings, which typically resulted in most of the crew crowding the laundry at the end of the week, so you were sure to have at least an hour or three alone to yourself.

You made your way to the back left-hand corner of the room towards the broken machine. It should be an easy fix, the complaint was that it wasn't draining properly, so you figured it was just a clogged drain hose.

Upon opening up the machine you found you were right. it was just a clog. You retrieved a plumbing snake from a nearby supplies trunk and got to work fishing it out. Unfortunately this menial task gave you enough time to dwell on your problems rather than engaging your brain enough to force them into the back of your mind.

You kept thinking the word "broken" over and over. You couldn't get it out of your head how you couldn't bring yourself to just be excited over something everyone else seemed to love.

Your chest tightened. "Broken.. Loser..." Why couldn't you get over it? Why didn't you have these feelings like all the others?

You latched onto the clog and worked to pull it out. "

Broken..." Why was this so hard? "Broken... Stupid... Wrong..." What was wrong with you? "Stupid... Broken..." Why couldn't you just be like everyone else?!

With that last thought you pulled the clog out with an audible "Pop!" that almost made you fly backwards. You looked at it in disgust and dropped it into the nearby trashcan before re-attaching the hose and sliding down to the floor. No one was going to show up to the laundry this early, might as well take advantage of this time to wallow in your own misery.

That's what you told yourself at least. In truth you could feel tears burning your eyes and didn't want anyone to see you cry. Better to let it happen alone than risk another crew mate seeing you and thinking you were weak.

What you didn't know was that Yondu was also well aware of his Ravager crew's laundry habits, and took advantage of the empty communal laundry room at the beginning of the week to wash his own laundry undisturbed. He made his way down after breakfast, actually having forgotten he had assigned you to fix one of the machines, and was therefore quite surprised to walk in on you sat in the corner crying.

"What d'we have here?" he asked, more puzzled than anything. He never once seen you cry, which now that he thought about it was rather surprising. He saw grown men cry at least twice a week, most of them Peter, but still. He tried to cover up any concern with humor. "Did Halfnut leave his dirty drawers in the machine again? Smell's bad enough to make anyone cry."

You had been startled when he first walked in and you were currently trying to quickly straighten yourself up. "Nothing. Sorry Captain." you said, not looking him in the eye as you bent down to pick up the plumbing snake. "Nearly done here." you say, unable to hide a sniffle.

Yondu plopped his laundry basket on one of the long steel tables running up the middle of the room and sighed, turning to walk towards the door.

You look up in surprise as you heard the lock engage.

He looked at you, arms crossed, and said, "Ya really think I'm gonna buy that? Yer not leaving here until ya spill it. Now what's wrong? Somebody bein' mean to ya? Yer feminine-ly cycle -or whatever it's called- hurtin' ya again?"

You blushed and gave him a sharp look before placing the plumbing snake back where you found it.

Yondu rolled his eyes as he moved his basket over to a machine and tossed his clothes in. "Fine, be that way. But I meant what I said. Ya ain't leavin' til we sort it out. Might as well talk or it's gonna get mighty borin' in here." He turned on the machine and hoisted himself up to sit on the table, patting the space beside him.

You begrudgingly approach, not meeting his eyes, and lifted yourself up to sit down on the table.

"Now what's wrong?" he said again.

You fix your gaze on your lap and sigh. "You're just gonna make fun of me." You say sadly.

Yondu smirks. "Maybe. Still wanna hear it though." Upon seeing your face fall further he elbowed you and said, "I'm jus' kiddin'! What's the long face?"

Your eyes remain down and you quietly say, "I... don't wanna do it."

Yondu raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I don't wanna do it." you repeat.

"Ya dun wanna do... what?" he asks in confusion. He at first assumed maybe you didn't want to do your assigned morning task of fixing the machine, but it seemed like you had already finished it, so he had no idea what you could possibly mean to even begin to be angry for any disobeyed orders. Also, he doubted he found you crying over something as silly as not wanting to fix a washing machine.

"It," you say, "You know, IT." you make a crude gesture with your fingers, forming a circle in one hand with your thumb and index finger and inserting the index finger of your other hand in and out of it, to hopefully get the point across.

Yondu's eyes widen a bit. "Oh!" he says in surprise, before continuing in confusion, "I don't get it? Ya seemed just as excited as could be a bit ago?"

"I've been faking it. Don't want the others to make fun of me."

"Come now! They won't ma-"

He's cut off by you giving him another sharp look. He looks forward again and nods, sighing, "Yeah, yer right. They will."

The two of you were quiet for a couple moments before Yondu awkwardly broke the silence. "Ya mind if I ask why? Like are ya scared or somethin'?" he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, slight concern painting his features.

He remembered his first time. As a battle-slave he didn't exactly see much action; the Kree weren't exactly fond of the idea of their battle-slaves reproducing or having any fun; and by the time Stakar freed him he was in his twenties. It was shortly after when with some other young Ravagers that the subject came up and he admitted he had never done it, only for his mates to excitedly cheer that they were taking him with them on shore leave so he could "become a man." He had been nervous, though he never expressed it out loud, not wanting to appear weak. He knew they meant well, but screwing a random whore just to fit-in and say he had wasn't something he had exactly been looking forward to, however peer pressure had encouraged him to go through with it. It wasn't too bad, he realized, but even knowing that he himself had come to enjoy the act, he always remembered the knot in his stomach leading up to his first time, and hearing you say that you might be scared of doing it made a similar knot form, only higher in his chest and feeling more like... pity? No, that wasn't quite it. Empathy? Yes, that was probably more accurate. Damn sentiment.

"It's not anything like that... it's just... I don't feel anything like that. I'm not even sure I'd know what that feeling is. It's just not there. I'm not scared, or even disgusted, I just feel... nothing."

"I'm not sure I follow..." Yondu said honestly. He supposed you feeling nothing was better than you being scared, but he still didn't quite understand.

"Ok, like, imagine you're surrounded by a feast, with everything you could ever want to eat, but you're not hungry. That's how I feel. I just don't want any of it," you said. Your voice cracked as you continued, "...and it's just so frustrating. Everyone else gets to be normal, while I just don't feel... anything. I don't want to do it-with anyone. When I think about it I feel nothing- it's like I'm broken." You covered your mouth, still not meeting Yondu's gaze as you tried to hold back frustrated tears.

Hearing you say that you thought you were broken tore at Yondu's heart. He wrapped an arm around you tightly and said in a firm voice, "Ya listen here. Yer not broken. I don't wanna hear that again. Look here."

You reluctantly do as he asks.

"Yer not broken," he said again, his face stern. "Sex doesn't make a person whole, so how could ya ever be broken, girl?"

You inhaled sharply as fresh tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn't realized until then that that was exactly what you needed to hear. You quickly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest to hide your tears.

Taken aback at he sudden gesture, Yondu patted you on the back comfortingly and returned the hug. Good thing he locked the door. He doubted that any of his crew would be bothered to wash their clothes this early, but still, it would halt the possibility of new rumors that he was "going soft on the Terrans." He honestly wasn't sure he'd sleep tonight if he had to scold you for crying to save face with his crew right now.

You pulled back almost as soon as you went in, straightening up and quickly wiping your eyes.

"Feel better?"

You nodded.

Yondu sighed, "What to do now..." he said thoughtfully. "Ya know, I never actually liked this whole 'rite of passage' thing, to be fully honest. Crew just gets too wound up. Yer not the first to have reservations 'bout it. Handful of lads have come to me over the years, confiding that they were nervous, but scared of being bullied by the rest of the crew if they didn't go through with it. I suspect there might have been more, but were too scared of lookin' weak to tell their captain. I guess I can understand that."

Surprised by this honesty, you asked, "What did they do?"

"Faked it. They'd go on shore leave, pay a whore to put on a good loud show, yelling and banging on the walls 'n stuff, then lap up the congratulations of the rest of the crew for 'becoming a man.'"

You were further surprised that any of the the crew would have been that open with their captain to admit faking it. "Really?" you ask. "They told you about it after?"

"Who d'ya think told 'em to do it?" Yondu said, huffing a laugh out his nose.

That makes you smile, though you aren't quite sure why. After a moment of thought you say, "If you don't like the whole thing, why don't you stop it?"

Yondu sighed. "I don't think I could if I tried. It's widespread over all 100 Ravager factions. Doubt it do well to tell one faction they couldn't participate. Enough of them look forward to it they'd probably riot." Yondu laughed sardonically. "Not that I haven't thought about trying to steer the culture around it in a different direction. I can tell some of my older crew have the same thoughts, even if they won't admit it."

"How do you know if they never said?" you asked.

"The way they keep passing off horror stories as funny tales to the younger crew. Or did ya miss the story about how Vorker-"

"Nope! Heard it!" you cut him off suddenly. "I remember! I don't need to hear it again, please!" You held up your hands almost as if defending yourself from hearing it again, eyes wide. You most definitely did not need to hear a retelling of the time Vorker caught something very nasty off a girl he met on a job and the details that came with it. There were some rumors that it was how he really lost his eye, but you weren't sure of the truth behind those claims.

Yondu chuckled, patting you on the back. His expression changed when he said. "That's prob'ly what ya should do."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fake it, I mean." he clarified. "Ya should wait til ya want to do it, with someone ya want, if that should ever happen. Not just go through with it to fulfill some dumbass rite of passage." He stared off into the space in front of him. "I can't really see another way to go 'bout it." he admitted. "If I called out for a change among the crew now they'd no doubt see the connection, think I was going soft 'cause yer the only girl here, and then it'd blowback on you. I ain't gonna let that happen." He gave you a look that you understood without him having to explain further. He actually cared about you, in a way similar to how he cared for Peter. He didn't want to see you hurt or bullied over something stupid like this.

You nodded in understanding, returning your gaze to the floor.

"Next shore leave is in a few days. I'll take care of it." Yondu said, his words surprising you.

"What?"

"Consider it a gift." he said, lightly punching you in the arm as he said, "Don't say I never gave ya anythin'."

"I don't understand?" you say, lightly laughing in confusion.

Yondu dramatically rolled his eyes and said, "Guess I gotta spell it out fer ya... I'll arrange for a "fake visit" from a nice whore-bot for ya. It actually costs more for them to fake it, if ya can believe it."

You stared at him, speechless. "I- thank you?" you finally say, blushing. You give him another quick hug.

"Ya, don't get used to it." he replied in his usual gruff fashion when you released him, but you knew better. The old softie.

Just then the machine buzzed, alerting that Yondu's clothes were finished washing. He stood from the table to switch them into a nearby dryer. Once done he turned back to face you. "Well, ya probably got other duties ya need to get to. Better get on 'em."

You smiled, giving him a mock-reluctant, "Yeah," before following him to the door.

You weren't expecting what happened next.

Yondu opened the door and exited, you following out behind. The hallway was no longer empty, and you heard the same young man from earlier, Rahi, call out from a group of two other Ravagers, "Ow Ow! Looks like she finally lost it to the Captain!"

No doubt he thought he was being funny, but he really, really, shouldn't have done that.

Yondu's whistle pierced the air, his arrow quickly finding its way to rest against Rahi's throat. "Ya wanna try that again?" Yondu growled.

Rahi couldn't find any words, just babbled out incoherent nonsense as he nearly shit his pants. The other two Ravagers in the group weren't laughing, just cowering with their friend afraid they'd be next once Yondu finished with him. Other crew mates standing within the hall also stopped to stare in stunned silence.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't run my arrow through ya for speakin' to yer captain like that? Even worse offense for implying I'd screw around with a child." Yondu's eyes were dark and full of rage. Even you were a bit frightened, enough to almost let the child comment slide, and you weren't even the target.

"Dude! He's so old! Ew!" you shout over to the terrified young Ravager, hoping to help the situation by making it clear that nothing like that was ever going to be a thing. And, if you were to be honest, slight payback for Yondu calling you a child.

Yondu whipped his head around to you, and you caught a momentary expression of "You little shit!" before he said, "And don't ya forget it!"

He turned back to Rahi. "I'm waiting." he said, still glowering and crossing his arms expectantly.

Rahi was still busy freaking out. It looked like he was about to cry. He eventually managed to squeak out a, "I'm sorry!" among his pleas for Yondu not to kill him.

Yondu called back his arrow. "That's what I thought. For yer smart mouth you and the other two there are gonna wash the outside of the Eclector, and yer all gonna keep at it until the whole ship's clean." With a smug smile he added. "Guess yer all gonna miss out on shore leave."

This obviously didn't go over well with Rahi's friends, who were now glaring and smacking him at the back of his green head. The next shore leave after the upcoming one wouldn't happen for another 3 months.

"Ya heard me. Git going. And yer still all responsible fer yer other duties too." Yondu added.

The three young men begrudgingly started making their way past when Yondu stopped them again with an, "Ah, Ah, Ah." making them turn back, dreading what else he might have to add.

"I think ya better apologize to this young lady too, for thinking she'd want her first time to be with someone so old." He looked at you pointedly as he said this and you squinted back at him, a nervous giggle escaping your throat as you rubbed the back of your head. Shouldn't have spoke up and called your captain old, now he was going to have to make an example of you as well for mouthing off. "Yer gonna be cleaning out the brig for that one, missy." he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Had to make it look good, after all.

Rahi muttered out an apology before scurrying away with his now very irritated mates, but not before Yondu cried out after him with a, "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." He said this with a thick veil of warning. It was a threat, and one you hadn't expected to hear after the conversation you just had with him.

It was clear that no one else in hallway had expected to hear this from their captain either. Looks of shock were exchanged among the Ravagers in the hallway. Rahi and his buddies' eyes all widened in shock when his words finally sunk in and their scurry turned into a sprint to get away before they could make things even worse. That comment Rahi made had apparently pissed the captain off bad.

"What the rest of ya staring at?" Yondu said, startling the rest of the hallway dwelling crew into motion. "I know ya'll got shit to do, get on it!" He looked at you and cocked his head as if to say "Get moving." and you obeyed, making your way toward the brig to complete your extra cleaning duties.

Yondu did his best to hide a smirk as he made his way down to his quarters. He knew rumors would start spreading like wildfire about Rahi nearly causing Yondu to put an end to the rite of passage after that display. It was bound to piss more than a few of the younger crew off. He didn't care much for the lazy shit anyway, so it was better the crew think he was the reason for any upcoming changes rather than you, and if it succeeded in helping him end the whole culture around that particular thing, even better. They really did get too wound up about it.

***

The morning of shore leave came and you were nervous as hell. Yondu had pulled you aside the night before to let you know he had taken care of what he promised, and described the whore-bot he paid to help you fake it so you would know which one to accept. Still, even knowing it was taken care of you couldn't help the growing pit of nervousness in your stomach, though you did your best to hide it.

Since clearly the Eclector couldn't dock on the planet, being about a mile and a half long and all, Ravagers on shore leave would pool together on M-ships for the journey to and back, kind of like a funny buddy-system.

As per usual, you pooled in a ship with Yondu, Kraglin, and Peter along with Tullk, Oblo, and Horuz. Yondu and Kraglin sat up front to pilot, Tullk, Oblo and Horuz filled in the middle, while you and Peter got put in the back, as always.

While the older men laughed and carried on in front of you, you felt Peter nudge you in the arm. You looked over to see him looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "You ok?" he asked, having noticed how you were unusually quiet and fidgety.

"Yeah, I'm great." you lied, "Never better."

Peter rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. "Don't give me that. Are ya nervous?" he asked, obviously knowing full well what everyone expected you'd be doing on this shore leave. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

You gave him a look, saying, "No!" before coming clean with a, "Fine. A little." as you turned your gaze down into your lap to fidget with your watch some more.

"It'll be ok," he assured, "I was a little nervous my first time, too," he admitted. Peter was a few years older than you at 20, and it was hard for you to picture him having been nervous about it, seeing as he now seemed to be trying to work his way through every cute girl in the galaxy.

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Yeah. I mean, I was still super excited, but I was a little nervous too. Those horror stories the older guys tell us really get to you."

You giggled with him, remembering what Yondu had told you the other day.

Peter continued, "But anyway, you're gonna be fine. But I did want to give you this." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. It was a condom.

"Peter!" you whisper-shouted, blushing.

"Hey, if you're gonna do it, I wanna know you're being smart about it. Always use protection. Even with the Love-bots. Can't ever be too careful." He held his hand out more insistently.

You blushed harder and accepted the gift, even though you knew you wouldn't be needing it. "Thanks."

"Come on now, don't get all frowny on me. I'm just looking out for you." Peter teased, aiming a few pokes at your ribs, knowing it always got a good giggle or two out of you.

It worked. Giggles escaped your throat as you twisted in your seat and swatted at his hand, "Quit it!" you squeaked, but his mission was accomplished anyway, you were smiling now.

"There we go!" he teased, grinning at you.

"Shush!" you replied, sticking your tongue out at your friend and laughing when he flicked you in the arm for it. Soon enough the two of you were in a slap battle. You weren't really fighting, and neither of you struck with the intent to hurt (well, not much anyway) it was just how the two of you played sometimes. This carried on until you heard Yondu announce that you all had made it to your destination, and then the nervousness started to creep back into your belly.

Peter and you were the last off the ship. Yondu and the other men headed off, leaving the two of you to your own devices with calls to behave yourselves, but "not too much" *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

You almost wished he had stuck around longer, but you knew he had already done his part. It would look weird if he stuck around to hold your hand, so to speak. You look to Peter, wanting to stall just a bit longer. "So, ya hungry?"

"Figured you'd want to get right to business," he teased. He knew you were probably stalling, but decided to go along with it anyway rather than abandon you straight away. You had been here before, but he knew this time was different. This time there was a pressure to do something new, and you had already admitted you were nervous about it.

"Uh, can't do it on an empty stomach," you say, forcing a smile.

He ruffled your hair. "Good point. I'm starving." He suggested you two grab some fries at the nearby bar inside the brothel (the whole place was the brothel, let's be honest) and you followed him.

When you both had finished you tried to think of something else to stall, maybe play some pool? However, you never got the chance, for a whore-bot with green hair and looking to be around your age came over to your table to greet you. It was the one Yondu told you to look for, and it asked if it could "show you a good time." You looked nervously at Peter who shot you a thumbs up while trying not to laugh. You glanced back at the bot and tentatively nodded, which Peter took as a sign to high-tail it out of there, leaving you alone. The bot asked for your ID, as you knew it would, and part of you wished you "forgot" it back on the ship, knowing that the bots were programed to refuse service to anyone under the age of 17 and required ID of younger-looking patrons to prove it.

After scanning your ID, the bot took you by the hand and flirtatiously led you across the room to a set of stairs. You began to hear some cheers as you ascended the stairs behind the bot and you were blushing too hard to even attempt to ham it up for their benefit.

Once in the room the bot turned to you. "I understand this isn't meant to be an ordinary engagement. Mr. Udonta left instructions to only perform counterfeit coitus, correct?"

You blushed and nodded, taken aback by the professionalism of the sex-bot, before wondering if you were being rude by assuming otherwise.

"Have you done this before?"

You shook your head, still blushing.

"It's alright. There's plenty of time to figure it out. I've been booked for three hours."

You sputtered. "Excuse me?!" you cried, trying not to be too loud. "Three-? What are we supp-"

The bot gave a laugh and held up its hand. "Do not worry, Miss. I was paid extra to deliver that joke. Mr. Udonta felt it would be very funny. I've only actually been booked for an hour, the standard amount of time."

You let a sigh of relief. You still felt that an hour was going to drag on, but at least it wasn't flarkin' three. "So, what do we do?"

The bot took your hand again and led you to the large bed in the center of the room. "Lie down here." You looked at the bot nervously and it clarified. "The noises will be more realistic if both our weights are on the bed."

You did as the bot instructed and it climbed over you. "I understand this may be awkward, but I'll ask that you trust the process. I will do this," the bot began to rhythmically rock its body back and forth, each rock ending in its hands hitting the headboard and making it knock into the wall behind it. "and then you can start making moaning sounds, you can repeat after me." The bot then started moan, encouraging you with a gesture of its hand when you were too busy blushing to follow the lead. You did your best to mimic the sounds. "We shall continue like this for 10 minutes, and then rest." the bot instructed, ushering you again with more hand gestures when you paused to give it a puzzled look.

After several minutes the bot prompted you to get louder, and then louder again still a few moments after. You realized it was coaching you to simulate you approaching the climax and you got nervous again, not knowing what to do when "that moment" was meant to happen. The bot read your face and told you to relax, just follow it's lead as it thumped against the wall faster and it moaned louder.

You followed its lead until it told you to make a last few loud "Oh's!" and then it began to slow its thumping before coming to a stop.

Whoops and laughter could be heard from the bar outside the door shortly after, and you blushed harder as the bot crawled off of you. "We will now have a few minutes of rest before beginning another simulation."

You sat up. "So we'll just keep repeating like this until the time's up?" you asked.

"Not quite," answered the bot. "We'll change things up a bit, different positions, different sounds, helps to keep it interesting."

"This seems like a lot of work?" you say.

"Yes, well we're paid to put on a show here. Might as well ensure it's convincing," the bot answered with a shrug and a smile.

You winced as you realized you could hear similar noises you had just faked coming from the rooms next to yours and then more whooping and cheering once they, too, stopped. "The walls are kinda thin in here, huh?" you say awkwardly.

The bot smiled sympathetically, "It seems that way, but not really. Only the louder noises make it out. Normal conversation levels are typically left unheard from outside the rooms, so you're clear to speak freely if that was a concern."

"Good to know," you say. You honestly had been a little concerned about that. "So, do we just sit around then?"

"I could give you a massage, if you'd like."

"That... actually sounds really nice. Sure, thank you." You accept the offer, realizing you could use a little stress reliever. "What's your name, by the way?" you ask, feeling a bit guilty for not having asked the bot's name before then and wondering if you should feel silly about that or not.

"You may call me Finn," the bot answered, not seeming fazed in the slightest. "Would you prefer to remove your clothes or leave them on?" The bot- Finn- motioned for you to turn around to give it access to your back.

"Um, clothes on, please?" you say, reaching for your zipper. "But I'll take off my jacket."

"Alright." The bot said, it's tone not caring in the slightest, and you supposed it very likely didn't care one way or another. It went straight to work, starting slow by gathering your hair and pulling it back and up almost as if it were going to tie your hair in a ponytail, but instead of securing an elastic it just repeated this motion a few more times. It was actually very relaxing, and it made you wish you had someone around to play with your hair more often.

With a final gentle tug the bot moved one hand to your forehead while the other worked at the back of your neck, kneading where the nape of your neck met your skull, making you close your eyes and sigh deeply.

To your delight the bot then threaded its fingers through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. A soft hum escapes you as you stopped yourself from leaning into to touch out of shyness, and you almost let out a whine when the scratching stopped. However, you were soon soothed by the bot beginning to knead into your neck and shoulders.

You had just barely stopped yourself from moaning once when the bot then pressed into another spot that made it impossible to not make a sound, though you tried. Finn speaks up. "Let yourself relax fully," the bot encouraged. "It's alright to allow yourself to be noisy here, may even work to your benefit under the circumstances."

You giggled slightly and blushed. Finn was right, after all. If there were any time to just let go and relax it would technically be here and now. Before you could think much further Finn had dragged the knuckles of each thumb up each side of your spine with just the right amount of pressure to coax a genuine moan out of you, surprising you as it happened. You had never really realized before just how much stress your work as a Ravager took out on your back. You began to wonder if these Love-bots were also designed to be professional masseuses, because Finn seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and it was amazing.

Finn ended the massage a bit later by working back up your back and working their fingertips back into your hair for a last bit scalp massage.

You were almost disappointed when it ended, but when it was over you turned to look at the Love-bot. "Thank you, that was really nice." you say.

"Anytime." Finn smiled. "We still have twenty minutes left, shall we begin another simulation?"

You sighed. "I suppose. He paid for an hour, might as well act like I'm using it." You smiled, not feeling quite as bitter about the situation anymore after the massage. Finn really did have magic fingers. Or state of the art massage programing. Probably the latter.

"Indeed." Finn answered. "After all, there are no refunds."

You let out a slight chuckle at the bot's bluntness. "Alright, so what now?"

The next simulation involved you both standing on the edge of the bed with the wall to hold your balance as you bounced slightly up and down to make the bed squeak. The bot encouraged your to make similar noises as before, but to also throw out some curses, like, "Oh! Fuck!" It even did the same, occasionally calling out a "Yes! Right there! Oh, yes!" that made you raise an eyebrow. You had to fight from giggling the whole time at the situation. It was pretty funny after all. You were both jumping on the bed like children.

When that simulation had finished you sat down on the bed and looked at Finn. "Do you guys... er...-bots?... feel anything?" you asked, referring to the language the bot had used earlier. "Or are you just supposed to say stuff like that as an act?"

"We don't have nerve endings, and therefore we don't really 'feel things' like you might, but there are certain sensors that can be activated during a session with a client and prompt a correct response. However, as this session is only a simulation, I suppose you can call my dialogue 'acting.'"

You half-grinned when the realization of the bot's words hit you. "Are you saying... you're like a 'sexy' arcade game?" you say, trying not to giggle, before becoming suddenly afraid that might have been offensive. "I mean- obviously you're not a toy- I mean- I didn't mean to offend you."

The bot chuckled. "There's no need to worry. There are certain similarities, one could see how you might draw that conclusion."

You blushed again and attempted to change the subject. "So... what are we going to do with the last simulation?"

"You have a couple options. We can simulate against the door, or we can simulate bending over the bed. We could also simulate oral, but the noises you made during the massage more or less already worked in its favor."

You blushed at that. You already knew the door was out of the question, as you had an admittedly irrational fear that it might pop open as you were faking the deed. "We can try over the bed."

"Very well. This one will require less movement of you, you may remain seated there." Finn said as they stood up and moved to stand with their legs between your own. "This one may also be a bit awkward," the bot warned, "as it requires thrusting into the bed on my part. Ready?"

You nodded hesitantly and the bot began a steady rhythm of motion against the bed, making it creak.

The bot was right. This was more awkward, and you were grateful when it was finally over with about five minutes to spare.

You stood from bed and grabbed your jacket. "Thanks. This wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." you said truthfully. In fact, you really almost thought you'd come back if for no other reason than to get another back rub.

"You still have five more minutes, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

You smiled shyly and said, "Well, I won't argue if you play with my hair again..."

***

You were of course greeted with congratulatory cheers and high-fives when you exited the room along with the other few crew mates who had recently come of age... and had still been allowed to attend shore leave that is. R.I.P Rahi and his friends. (They hadn't died, but you can bet they were probably really regretting pissing Yondu off.)

A few fellow Ravagers bought you some congratulatory drinks and the rest of the night seemed to fly by.

Eventually you caught back up with Peter and shortly after that Yondu announced it was time to head back, which of course received some disappointed grumbling among the crew. However, nobody argued, knowing it might cost them their next shore leave if they got "fussy like toddlers" as Yondu would say.

You and Peter got back to the ship to find Tullk and Oblo already there waiting. Horuz showed up just after and sighed to see Yondu and Kraglin weren't there yet. Yondu and Kraglin were the only ones with keys to Yondu's M-ship, so you all had to stand outside and converse among yourselves as he took his sweet time getting there.

He was probably just paying the Sneeper woman who owned the place and would be there any minute, but 'any minute' still felt like forever when it was cold.

Eventually he and Kraglin did show up and unlock the ship so you could all get in.

Once inside the ship and mostly everyone had strapped in Kraglin called back to you from the co-pilots seat with tipsy laughter in his voice. "So d'ya have fun? Feel any different? Any horror stories to add to the list?" He looked teasingly at Oblo and Oblo flipped him the bird.

Yondu swatted at him, saying, "Aw, leave the girl alone," but there was also laughter in his scolding, so he wasn't that serious.

You answered anyway. "Ya. Had a blast, Kraglin. Smooth sailing. Just a little sleepy."

This made the other men chuckle, though you weren't entirely sure why, although you could guess.

Yondu piped up. "If she falls asleep Quill's gotta carry her in."

Peter scoffed with a laugh. "Why do I gotta?" he said, before turning to you to add. "You better not fall asleep then."

"Well if you fall asleep I ain't carrying you in! Probably break my back if I tried. You can just stay sleeping in the ship." you laughed back.

"Why you little!" Peter cried out with a grin, aiming to poke you in the ribs, but you dodged him, returning a swat of your own to his arm. And, like on the way over, the two of you were engrossed in another slap battle. The others just let you two carry on, busy with their own conversations and laughing amongst themselves.

Eventually you and Peter did tire yourselves out and Yondu chuckled to the other men when after docking the ship he noticed you had both fallen asleep, curled up in your respective seats. Oblo snapped a picture, cooing, "Aw look! Ain't that precious!"

"Send that to me." Yondu said with a grin. "Might blow it up, hang it in the Mess Hall." This earned a laugh from the others. He looked at Tullk with a grin before exiting the ship. "Ya better wake 'em. I'm sure as hell not carryin' them to bed."

***

The next morning Yondu was alone in his quarters when he decided to call up Stakar.

After a few rings Stakar's face comes up on the screen, and the two men give a Ravager salute in greeting before Stakar asks what's brought Yondu to call him.

"I wanna talk to ya about that whole coming of age and having sex thing."

Stakar raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Younger crew just get too wound up about it. It ain't healthy." Yondu responded.

Stakar still looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ya know what I mean." Yondu said firmly. "They get all wound up like it's the most important thing in the world, and it's because everyone makes a big old deal outta something silly like that."

"It hasn't been a problem before?" Stakar said thoughtfully. "What's changed? It's that Terran girl isn't it? Of course. She just came of age." Stakar shook his head. "I don't care what you say, you're soft on her and Peter. You can't get attached and let them influence your judgement like that, Yondu."

"No, it ain't like that," Yondu said, trying to cover his ass and continuing before Stakar can interrupt him. "It's got nothin' to do with them. I just can't have my crew bullying their mates just cause they don't wanna fuck yet or lettin' the whole thing get to their heads makin' them all disrespectful-like. Almost had to keel-haul a few boys who suddenly thought they were big enough to start disrespecting their captain over it."

Stakar looked at him suspiciously. "No, we can't have that... What do you propose then? It's not like we can stop them. You tell young people they can't do something, they're only gonna do it more."

"I know that- Look. I'm not sayin' we do away with it entirely. I could care less what they do on shore-leave. But we can maybe make them realize it's not such a big damn deal. Ya know, slow-like. Maybe they'd stop getting so wound-up about it." Yondu said, quickly adding, "If they're less focused on that maybe they'd work harder."

Stakar thought for a bit. Yondu was right, he thought. He had noticed the younger crowd getting a bit wound up about it, and sometimes they did let the excitement get ahead of their duties... "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "If it's affecting their jobs maybe we should try and change the culture around it... I'll talk with some of the other captains and get back to you."

Yondu grinned and nodded. "All I ask."

***

You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was the day after shore-leave and no one had brought up how you "Became a woman" at all. It was as if the previous week's excitement had been completely forgotten, and you couldn't be happier.

You did notice in the following days that Rahi seemed to be getting a bit of flack. He hadn't been particularly well liked before, always trying to push his duties off on other crew mates or blaming others for things he had broken, but now he was practically a pariah. Even his buddies didn't seem to want much to do with him, though that could be because they were still mad that they had been dragged under into his punishment despite not having done anything to deserve it other than be with him at the time.

You almost felt bad for him until Peter explained that along with the 'written' rule that Ravagers don't deal in kids; harming or forming inappropriate relationships with children and teens (i.e: having sexual relations with younger crew) was also a HUGE no-no. Even worse if the offender is someone high-ranking. Rahi, though he just thought he was being funny, had more or less unwittingly falsely accused Yondu of breaking that part of the code with the joke he made, hence why Yondu had been so offended and pissed. Peter was honestly surprised Yondu had let him live after that.

He also added that no one wants to be around someone who thinks it's funny to make those particular jokes. Real accusations of that nature are taken very seriously among Ravager Clans, so if someone is found to just be flippantly saying crap like that, the general feel is that it makes it harder for real victims to be heard, so the crew will tend to shun the offender to make it clear that behavior isn't acceptable. And well, if the offender didn't learn their lesson pretty quick and get back into the good graces of their captain and crew, they'd quickly find themselves to be cannon fodder.

Even Ravagers know there's a line between raunchy and unacceptable.

There may have also been the matter that when Yondu had said "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." much of the crew, after the rumor had gotten twisted up a bit via game of telephone, had taken it to mean that Rahi had almost gotten shore-leave taken away from everyone- forever. And well, that just didn't sit right with a lot of folks. It was a final nail in the coffin, if you will.

However, what you didn't know was about Yondu's conversation with Stakar.

Stakar did go talk to the other captains, and more than a few did finally admit similar instances among their younger ranks after having heard through the grapevines about a giant stink a lad called Rahi had caused on Udonta's ship. They admitted to instances of bullying, pressure, and disrespect occurring and directly related to the particular rite of passage and collectively agreed with Yondu that a change surrounding the culture could be beneficial, much to Yondu's surprise, and also his relief.

He never did tell you about his conversation with Stakar, though he was sure you may start to suspect if everything went well and things started changing regarding that particular aspect of life. As long as no one else had to feel like he saw you feeling that night in the laundry, he'd be happy.

You had come to his quarters the day after the visit to Contraxia, knocking almost as soon as he had hung up with Stakar. You had wanted to thank him him for helping you, both with the advice and with the Love-Bot. You told him how you felt so much better after having that talk with him, and how you no longer felt broken.

He'd never say, because screw sentiment, but it warmed his heart to know he helped you realize there was nothing wrong with you, that you had never been damaged. You two parted with a hug and he let you know to not be afraid if you needed to come to him about stuff like that in the future, just not to make a habit of telling the others lest they accuse him of going soft.

You were his little girl, something else he never intended to say out loud, because again, screw sentiment. He felt a responsibility for your well-being, even if you could be a little shit like Peter sometimes.

Ah, fuck sentiment. He knew you two were his kids, and he was damn proud.

***

About a week after shore leave you and Peter happened across Yondu outside the Mess Hall doors as you were heading in for supper.

"Hey, look! It's Terran One and Terran two!" Yondu said, oddly loudly.

"Um, hi?" You gave him an odd look. "What's up?"

"Now why would ya think somethin's up? Can't a captain greet his crew outside the Mess Hall before dinner?"

'Something's definitely up.' you thought, sharing a glance with Peter who was clearly thinking the same thing. "Are we in trouble? Did we do something?" Peter chuckled nervously. He didn't know about you, but he had maybe definitely rigged a supply closet in the control room with some firecrackers, and he wasn't sure if some poor soul (probably Kraglin) had already fell victim to it, meaning he was about to be in hot water.

You were also grinning nervously. You didn't know about Peter's firecrackers, but you had also maybe definitely hidden some poppers under the cushion of Yondu's desk chair that morning when he was busy on the other side of the ship, but you weren't going to just turn yourself in without more information, now were you?

"I dunno, you tell me." Yondu said, smirking. "Are you in trouble? Ya'll got a guilty conscience?"

You and Peter shared a nervous glance. You both knew you both were most definitely guilty of something, however you two had a code. Never turn yourself in, and never turn your buddy in. You looked back at Yondu, suppressing a nervous giggle. "No? I don't think so?"

Kraglin then came outside the Mess Hall doors to stand with Yondu. Kraglin had a big shit eating grin on his face, almost as if he were trying not to laugh when he saw you and Peter there.

Yondu threw him a glance which Kraglin returned with a nod. You noticed this and you exchanged another look with Peter. Something was definitely up. This felt like a trap.

"Well, what're ya waiting for? Get in there and grab some supper!" Yondu ordered, grinning strangely. He opened the door for you- oh shit something was absolutely up here.

You and Peter eyed him suspiciously but obeyed, entering the Mess hall without a word.

Once inside you noticed the rest of the crew inside were all oddly quiet, all staring at the two of you with grins and some suppressing giggles behind their hands. You heard the doors shut behind you and turned to see Yondu and Kraglin standing in front of them, both donning the biggest shit eating grins of all time.

"Cap'n has a surprise for you guys, d'ya- do ya like it?" Kraglin asked, trying to suppress his own giggles.

You heard Peter exclaim a, "Oh hell no!" and you turned to see what had caught his attention, noticing the crew had finally broke out into loud raucous laughter around you.

Hanging high on the wall about 10 feet to the right of the Mess Hall entrance doors was a humongous blown up photo of you and Peter. It was the photo you guys didn't know Oblo had snapped when you returned from Contraxia. It showed the two of you each curled up asleep in your respective seats of Yondu's M-ship. Peter was sucking his thumb. You were cuddling one of Yondu's softer dash toys.

You both paled as you stared up at the giant poster hung high on the wall. Hung conveniently high enough that neither of you would be able to reach it to rip it down, although Peter made a few good attempts.

Your eyes narrowed at your captain as he approached you, his laughter matching that of the crew. He pulled you towards him and ruffled your hair as he asked. "What's the matter? Ya don't like yer surprise?"

You glared up at him as Peter was now climbing up on a chair in a vain attempt to reach and pull the photo down. "This so means war, blue man!"

"Don't pick fights ya can't win, pipsqueak." Yondu laughed. "Consider this payback for those poppers in my chair, and ya can tell Peter this is for those firecrackers in the supply closet."

You sighed and punched him in the arm, but he only laughed and pulled you in close to ruffle your hair again, "Oh lighten up! Ya don't really expect me to just let my kids have all the fun, huh?"

You jerked your head towards him with a surprised expression, and it seemed it was only then he realized what he had said. Grateful that no one else would have heard it over his noisy crew he attempted to backtrack. "Uh, don't read too much into it." he said, clapping you on the back and announcing to Kraglin that he was going to grab some food. Kraglin, who was busy laughing at Peter, who had seemingly given up his attempts to rip down the photo in favor of walking dejectedly back over to you, nodded and joined his Captain in obtaining some supper.

Peter and you turned to face the photo again, the laughter from the crew still not having died down. Peter spoke first. "This means war, right?"

"Definitely. I had already set up a dye pack in Yondu's shower earlier. He'll be a weird shade of purple by morning," you affirmed with a grin.

"Nice. We gotta get one on Kraglin too."

"Absolutely," you reply. "After supper?"

"Yeah. After supper." Peter agreed.

The two of you made your way to get your supper, ignoring the laughs and teases of the other Ravagers along the way and discussing further options of getting Yondu and Kraglin back for this.

He may be like a father to you two, but that didn't mean he'd get off easy.

[fuck-customers]

This might be a little vent-y and long, really sorry, but bruhs, I have had a NIGHT.

I just got scolded twice for 10 minutes by some rude, biased, entitled fuck because I asked (very politely!) if they could keep the noise down in their hotel room because they were disturbing their neighbors. Dude decided to not only accuse me of telling him how to raise his kids, but then apologize if he sounded defensive because he was only feeling protective because he (a large 6'-ish black man) felt threatened by me (a bony 5'6"-ish white woman) knocking on his door instead of calling, "You know, with how dangerous things are, you just don't know." BRO, you think I'M threatening? The huge, muscly white guy in the room next to you who made the original complaint was gonna be the one pounding on your door if you wake him or his family up one more time; I am HELPING you and using my best customer voice, all nice and gentle and shit because you fuckers demand to be coddled even when you're in the wrong, but you MIGHT do what I ask if I say "pretty please" nicely enough. In the second rant he gave me slightly later, he went on and on about how he might cancel the expensive event he was holding at one of our other hotels in his hometown due to this terrible treatment. Every time I offered to fix anything or get something he mentioned he needed, he refused and made a big deal of what an inconvenience it was that he would now have to take care of it himself (I STILL ended up getting everything he asked for, somehow, not one thank you to be had).

You do not get special privileges or treatment no matter how much money you spend with our brand OR because you want to try to make yourself sound like you were targeted for OTHER reasons you won't actually say to my face, especially because we both know it is absolute BS, you were just embarrassed. YOU woke up some other family TWICE, what, do THEIR kids not matter or them?? Is the money they paid for their room somehow not as good as yours?? All I asked was if you could lower the noise a little and now you're going to lie to my manager in the morning about how terribly I treated you and how mentally scarred I'm sure your kids are because a confrontational white lady knocked aggressively at your door at 1am. Yeah. Sure. It wouldn't have even been so bad and I wouldn't have cried normally, but OF COURSE I get this guy after putting one of my dogs to sleep just that afternoon. My weekend starts tomorrow; I figured I could just tough it out and deal and hide in the back office most of the night and, like, cry in bed for the next two days as much as I want. I was SO wrong. It's been people nonstop, not just this guy. When it finally calmed down around 3:30am, I went into the kitchen and sobbed for a little while, then it was back to work. I'm actually a little ashamed I let it get to me like that, but I'm glad I kept it together when he was in front of me, I hope he didn't notice I was shaking the entire time. I'm sure that asshole is real proud of himself, too. Disgusting. I hope he cancels that stupid event (it's actually real, that surprised me when I checked); I was having a terrible night to begin with, but no one deserves to have to deal with his entitled shit. Take your business and that attitude elsewhere.

Whew. Thanks for listening to my rant, I'mma go cry a little more and eat some (many) cookies.

[omori-brainrot]

The Only One Left

tws: suicide, emetophobia, self-harm, death, grief, alcohol mentions

After the worst neutral ending, Aubrey and Kel soon follow Mari, Basil, and Sunny. Hero is the only one left, and he’s struggling to live with that. But at least his college friends are there when he needs it most.

I’m so sorry but this barged into my brain and wouldn’t leave until it was written and posted.

When Hero goes back to school after the funeral, he hangs one of Kel’s old jerseys on the knob of his dorm-room closet. He needs something to remember his brother by, something to make him feel like he’s not alone. Of course, he’s not really alone. He’s still an underclassman, so he shares his room with Josh.

He’d gotten lucky with his roommate: they’d managed to reach the storybook ideal of not only getting along, but becoming friends. Still. He wished there was no one around to see him cry for hours over the jersey, to see him start favoring the snooze button over his morning classes, to see him sink deeper into himself until he was sure he’d never surface.

Josh had been good-natured about it, at least. He never pointed out the cutting classes when Hero despaired about his grades after the fact, and when Hero couldn’t bring himself to stop sobbing when Josh needed to study, he just put on headphones or went to the library without a single complaint or sign of annoyance.

Hero wonders if Josh knows how close he feels to dying too.

How everyday feels like tar is pulsing through his body, getting caught in his organs and weighing him down until it feels like he’ll never breathe again.

He tells himself that if he joined his old friends, he’d be inflicting the same pain he lived with everyday onto his college friends. That if he were gone, their lives would be shattered instead of his.

Get over yourself. They don’t care that much. They don’t even know you. You only met a year and a half ago. They were fine without you before then. And besides, you’re not the best company anyway. You weren’t there though to stop Mari from hanging herself. You couldn't see the signs. You weren’t there enough to stop Sunny and Basil from stabbing themselves the night before Sunny was supposed to get a new start. You should have reached out earlier. You weren’t there enough to keep Aubrey from getting into that stupid drunk accident. You knew she was drinking too much and too often in an attempt to make her world bearable, you should have done something. You couldn’t stop Kel from poisoning himself with all those chemicals in the bathroom. You knew how hard it was for him to open up about negative emotions without being prompted, and you knew he was so alone after everyone else left. You should have come back from college more often. Why would anyone still want to be friends with you? Why would anyone care if someone like you was gone?

When thinking about his new friends doesn’t work, he reminds himself of his parents. They’d already lost one child. They’d be devastated to lose another. He couldn’t do that to them.

It doesn’t matter. They’re disappointed in you anyway. They see your falling grades and talk about how you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because of what happened to Kel. They don’t understand that your only dream now is to make this constant pain stop. Besides, what does it matter if this hurts them? They should have been there for Kel when you were gone. As soon as you think that, you feel terrible. Which only makes you want to hurt yourself more.

Still, something makes him want to keep trying for a little while longer. Whatever it takes.

Which is how he ends up sitting over the trash can, taking a flimsy plastic dining hall knife to his arms.

If he wants to hurt himself but doesn’t want to die, this is the best he can do. Besides, it’s a little past midnight after a Friday, so Josh is attending whatever gatherings a non-imploding person attends on a Friday night.

Hero supposes that he should feel worse that things have come to this. But with every sting he only feels relief, even when he presses hard enough for the knife to draw shallow lines of blood.

For once, he’s barely thinking about anything else. Even with the jersey casting a shadow at the corner of his eye. He could get used to this sense of mindless pain.

When the door swings open and the light flicks on at a much earlier time than expected, his first response is to flinch back. It’s a second too late when it occurs to him that she should be rolling his sleeves back down.

Josh runs over, gently grabbing his arms and keeping him from doing so. “Wait. Wait.” He inspects the wounds for a moment. Looking worried, yet relieved that the injuries aren’t serious, he locks eyes with Hero. “Are you okay?” Hero opens his mouth, searching for an answer, but Josh continues. “Wait, you don’t have to answer that. That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not.”

“Yeah.” Hero says under his breath. He averts his eyes to the side of Josh’s head. He should have been more careful. What kind of person gets caught their first time self-harming? No wonder he’s so useless.

“If you let me take the knife with me, I can get some wet paper towels from the bathroom to help you clean up.” Josh holds out his hand, eyebrows creased in concern but eyes wide with expectation. Hero hands the knife over, ignoring the pang of reluctance to stop.

Josh races out of the room, and Hero takes a moment to look at his own cuts. He’s surprised at how many there are. He’d stopped paying attention while he was doing it. However, none of them look very bad, with the worst only bleeding very lightly.

Josh comes back faster than Hero expected, and diligently gets to work pressing the paper towels to the bleeding cuts. Hero winces a little at the sting, but he doesn’t mind this. It reminds him of when he was a child and his mother would clean up his scrapes. He realizes with a jolt that he doesn’t want to go back to hurting himself tonight.

“I hope you don’t mind me prying, but does this have anything to do with what you were telling me a couple months ago?”

“About—” Hero swallows thickly. He can’t bring himself to clarify. Besides, what could Josh be referring to besides Kel’s death? “Yeah.” His voice comes out strained.

“I’m sorry.” They sit in silence for a moment. “Hey, would it make it better or worse if I got Michelle and Dennis? We could get ice cream and you could tell us about your brother. Dennis said that helped when his aunt died.”

He was sure he’d want to say no—heck, he couldn’t bring himself to go to his favorite classes easily. But ice cream sounded nice, and he’d never noticed it before, but he was aching for someone to talk to. There was only one issue.

“Isn’t it almost one a.m.?”

Josh waved a hand dismissively. “That’s no problem if you want to go. I know a great all-night diner.”

That’s how he ended up in a nearly empty Denny’s with a few casual friends.

“Of course he’d refer to Denny’s as ‘a great all-night diner’.” Michelle dips a fry in her chocolate milkshake. Hero smiles slightly at her, eating a spoonful of his hot fudge sundae. The coldness of the ice cream is soothing, and he feels just a little bit better.

“Yeah, Josh, did you think Hero’s never heard of Denny’s before?”

“Hey, you’re not one to criticize me here. We came here for ice cream and you got pancakes.” Josh’s voice is light with playful teasing.

“So? They’re dessert pancakes. And there’s a scoop of ice cream on them.” Dennis gestures to the scoop with a flourish. “What does that have to do with you treating Denny’s like some obscure local mystery, anyway?”

Hero laughs a little. It feels unfamiliar and distant, but at the same time, somehow… right. He’s glad to not be alone tonight. Josh smiles with him. His eyes are still tinged with worry, but he’d reassured Hero on the drive here that none of the others had been told about the self-harm.

“So, Josh said we’re here because you had something to get off your mind?” Michelle looks at him, her worry less intense but still noticeable, like the mechanical whirring of a fridge in the background.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, poking at his sundae. How could he even begin to say what was wrong? Hero figured he should just start with the part that had been hurting him the most in the past months. “I don’t know if you remember my brother’s funeral a while ago, but…”

“You miss him?” Her voice is soft, gentle.

He nods, tears burning in his eyes.

“What was he like?”

Hero takes a rattling breath. “He really liked basketball. He played it every day after school. I don’t think he was all that close with anyone on his team, but he liked playing it a lot.”

“Is the jersey on your closet his team jersey?” Josh glances at him.

He shakes his head. “No, he just bought that one at the store. Sports clothes were like his default uniform, whether he had practice or not.”

Dennis nods slightly. “I’ve known people like that. I think they just practice so much it’s not worth changing clothes.”

A small smile tugs at Hero’s lips. “Yep, that sounds like Kel. Always on the move.” He glances across the restaurant at another one of the late-night patrons, someone about his age drinking a cup of coffee. “Honestly, I bet part of it was all the caffeine .” Hero wrinkles his nose, a strange mixture of affection and loss nested in the hollowness of his chest. “He drank an unnatural amount of Orange Joe.”

“I didn’t know anyone actually drank that.” Michelle takes a long sip of her milkshake.

“Small base of loyal customers, I guess.” A memory drifts into Hero’s mind, and for once he doesn’t push it away. “I can’t believe he kept drinking it after that hot dog competition. He won, but he drank so much Orange Joe afterwards that he threw up before we left the fair. He always said it was worth it, though.”

Michelle shakes her head. “Siblings.”

For a moment, Hero is reminded of a dozen other conversations he’s had about Kel. He’d tell his grade school classmates about a recent squabble, or something funny Kel did, and that’s what they’d say.

Then the stark contrast of reality hits him. This isn’t a petty fight that will be resolved in a few hours, or a story where nothing serious is wrong. He’s up at one am having this conversation because Kel is gone, because Kel will never win another game, will never drink more unhealthy quantities of soda, will never even graduate high school. He’s here because Kel was found dead on the bathroom floor, next to an emptied bottle of cleaning fluid, and Hero hadn’t done enough to stop him.

He puts his spoon down and lays his head in his arms. Everything feels so heavy. “I should have been there.”

“It wasn’t your fault—” Josh starts, but Hero doesn’t let him finish.

“Yes, it was!” A few of the other late-night patrons glance at their table, and he realizes he said that much louder than he meant to. Taking a shuddering breath, he continues more quietly. “I should have been there. I could have taken more time off school, he was more important than a few stupid assignments. I…” he has to stop to take another uneven breath. His voice is shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can speak before he dissolves into sobs, so he talks faster. “I knew he was having a hard time, and I don’t think anyone else could tell because he just acted like he was fine. If I had been there…” He breaks. The crying he was holding back can’t be contained any longer. His shoulders shake and his throat burns. He doesn’t even care if the other people in the diner are staring. Through a blur of tears, he can see his friends looking at him with concern, waiting for him to get it all out.

When he catches his breath, he forces himself to keep talking. He feels like he has to get this out, no matter how much it hurts, no matter if he has to look away from his friends to bear to say it. “He killed himself. And I wasn’t there.”

Michelle is the first to speak. “I’m so sorry…”

Josh puts a hand over his. “That’s horrible… I’m sorry you have to live with that.” He pulls his hand back. “You must feel horribly guilty, but I really don’t think it was your fault.”

“You… don’t?” God, he imagines he looks so pathetic right now.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re just a person. There’s only so much you could have done. You clearly loved him a lot, and I’m sure that meant a lot to him.”

“But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t there enough.” Hero’s sure he sounds like a broken record, but it’s all he’s been able to think about in the months since Kel’s death.

“Dude, you can’t save everyone. You can’t hold yourself to that standard.” Dennis’s voice is gentle, encouraging.

Hero looks away again, fresh tears emerging. “If that was all it was, maybe I’d think you’re right. But it’s not the first time this has happened.” He picks up his spoon, smushing the unmelted parts of the ice cream as he speaks. “I looked it up and it’s called a suicide cluster, but everyone else in town just calls it a curse.” He wipes away the new tears. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, though. Everyone I’ve grown up with is gone.”

“Shit…” For once, Josh is at a loss for words.

Michelle shakes her head. “It’s still not your fault. The only person who’s life and mental health you’re personally responsible for is your own. The most any of us can do for anyone else is be there and hope that’s enough, but if it’s not, that’s not your fault.”

Josh seems to come back to himself. “Yeah, absolutely. I stand by what I said before, no matter how many people died, because the same logic applies each time.”

“Wow… thanks.” It hasn’t fully set in, and to be honest, he doesn’t fully believe it either, but hearing that someone else believes it makes him feel a little better. “I’m… I’m scared it will never stop. What if everyone I get close to just keeps dying?”

“I… don’t think that will happen.” Dennis shrugs. “I mean, no matter what your town says, you’re not cursed or anything. It won’t go on forever.”

“Yeah, I guess so. My brain just needs to catch up, I guess.”

“It will, eventually.”

Michelle tilts her head slightly to one side. “If you don’t mind me asking, who else did you lose? No pressure, don’t answer if it will make things worse.”

Hero shakes his head. “It’s fine, I came here to get things off my chest anyway.” He pauses for a moment. “Let’s see… first, there was my high school girlfriend. That was four years ago. Last summer, her younger brother and a boy we were friends with growing up died on the same night, and earlier this year, before what happened to Kel, another friend got into an accident.” He feels like he should be more emotional as he says it, but he just feels empty. Like he’ll never feel human again.

“That’s terrible… if you ever want to talk about any of them, I’d be glad to listen.”

“Thanks.” The missing emotion is already bubbling back up a bit, and he has to swallow back tears. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s really asked me about any of them before tonight.” He sighs. “I kind of wish they would, now. I really liked telling you guys about Kel.”

“He sounds like a great brother.”

Hero’s tears start falling again, but somehow it isn’t as bad as before. “Thanks, he was.”

[obsidiancreates]

Freezer Duty (Part Two)

"Okay, okay!" Cheyenne shouts. Everyone is gathered in the warehouse, shouting and holding money. "Guys, settle down! This is simple, okay? If you think Jonah is a vampire put your money in this stupid fedora-"

She holds up said Fedora, a hat that Jonah has tried many times to wear and has been relentlessly mocked for each and every time.

"-and if you think he isn't a vampire, put your money in this crazy big mug!" She holds up a novelty mug that says 'My hair is as slick as my moves'.

Bets are placed, and the games truly begin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah looks at the customer and nods as they drone on about... something. He's trying very hard to focus on what, but it's just impossible. His lunch was completely unsatisfying, and he's still tired as hell.

"-so then the bagel caught fire-"

He just feels groggy and sick. And he's freezing! He even put his jacket on under his vest, and he's still cold! If only he had one of those cardigans from college with him...

"-and anyway, I just hope this won't turn out the same way."

Jonah nods along for a minute more before registering that the "conversation" is finally over. "Okay, well, good luck with that, ma'am," he says with a tired smile.

"Thank you, um... Joe-neh.”

“It-it’s Jonah, actually- and she walked away. Okay.” Jonah sighs and yawns, stretching his arms. He accidentally swings then out too wide, and knocks something over right onto the ground.

He jumps at the sheer volume of the impact! “WHAT IN THE-”

A barbell in a box smashes against the ground, denting the floor.

“How did- who- where-” Jonah looks around, trying to spot someone who would misplace a barbell into grocery!

He kneels down to take a look. It’s cracked the floor significantly.

He looks at his hand. It’s not even red where he accidentally punched the absurdly heavy weight. He struggles with grocery bags more often than not, and yet this- whatever this even is- happened?!

“Gotta be at an angle,” he mutters to himself. He puts his hands on the shelf, rubbing it, crouching down and examining it closely. “Just slid off at the lightest touch, clearly.”

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“Wow.” Mateo looks at Brett. “How did you even get that over there? It must weigh like, a million pounds.”

Brett gives no reply. Nor any indication that he heard Mateo at all. 

“Fine then,” Mateo says, offended. “Well, that’s a point for the ‘vampire’ better for sure.”

“Totally.” Cheyenne is already marking it down in her notebook.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dina watches Jonah on the security cams. “Let’s see how you like this one.” She pulls out her walkie-talkie. “Do it now, Garrett.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right?”

“Just do it!”

At the customer service desk, Garrett sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps an audio file, and holds it up to his mic.

Dina watches Jonah like a hawk.

First his head lifts up, clearly confused, and then after a moment he claps his hands over his ears. Over the camera she hears him shout, “What the hell is that?!”

Customer turn and looks at him with bewilderment, and looks around. 

Jonah looks around too, somewhat distressed.

“Ha!” Dina stands up a little and points at her monitor. “Superhuman hearing!”

“Hey, Dina?” Garrett says over the walkie. “What is this supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s a frequency human ears can’t hear, but Jonah just did,” she says happily.

“Are you serious?”

“Always. He’s freaking out in the middle of grocery,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay, turning this off now.”

“No! I want to see how long he can handle it first, for future reference.”

“Yeah, well, I bet against him being a vampire so this doesn’t benefit me at all.”

Garrett lowers the phone and turns it off. Dina watches Jonah drops his hands from his ears with a small gasp of relief. She plops back into her chair with a disgruntled sigh.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Sandra? Um, so, we got a complaint,” Glenn says, trying to get Sandra’s attention, “Someone said that a bunch of bats flew out of the hole in the ceiling and started trying to rip their hair out? Anyway, uh, we can’t call animal control without corporate approval, so I need someone to handle that...”

Glenn waits for a moment, and then clears his throat. Sandra is still focused on something else. He clears it again, more insistently. Still nothing.

“SANDRA!”

The shrill shout make Sandra jump. Glenn smiles pleasantly when she turns around. “I need your help with something- ... wait a minute...”

Sandra is holding a spray bottle, garlic powder, and real garlic. “Um, I’m... restocking,” she clearly fibs. Glenn raises an eyebrow.

Sandra deflates. “We’re playing a game,” she admits. “To see if Jonah’s a vampire or not. Since garlic might kill him Dina and Marcus are making me wear garlic perfume, which is just garlic in water, to see if it makes his nose bleed or anything.”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t be playing a game at work-”

“Who cares?! Jonah might be a vampire?”

“Um... yes?”

Glenn shouts fearfully. “But-but vampires are damned! Jonah’s soul might be damned?!”

“... Yes?”

Glenn quickly runs away. Sandra waits, shrugs, and goes back to spraying garlic-y water on her neck.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jerusha? We’re gonna start up a new savings account! ... Well, Jonah might be a vampire, so I think we’ll need to pay a heavy fee to get him into Heaven! ... Of course we have to do it! He probably can’t even think of Heaven now! OH! I prayed for him this morning, what if that hurt him?! Oh, god... I need to call Pastor Craig about this! Oh- hmm? Oh, yeah, I can bring home Italian, what do you want?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah leans away from Sandra. “Yeah, uh, it’s-it’s certainly... pungent.”

“A good signature scent?” Sandra asks meekly.

“It... leaves a strong impression,” Jonah assures. And a strong headache...

“You don’t think it’s too strong?”

“Well, um... now you mention it, it... might, be a little... much. Uh... garlic-ish. Kind of.”

“Oh. Do you not like garlic?”

“I love it! I love garlic, just... not as a perfume.”

“You’re not allergic?”

“I just said I love it, so... no.”

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

Sandra walks away, leaving Jonah thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” Amy asks, walking up.

“I think Sandra got garlic on herself and is trying to convince everyone it was on purpose,” Jonah says, slightly distracted sounding. He looks at Amy. “That or she genuinely wants to smell like garlic all the time.”

“Huh. ... I bet it was Carol.”

“Oh, that’s a good guess!” Jonah exclaims with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that one?”

“Mmm, you’re off your game today. Anyway, I asked Glenn and we think insurance will cover a basic checkup if you think you need one.”

"Good, good, because I had another thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I started hearing this like um, this-this ringing sound, kind of? But I don’t think anyone else heard it. ... Everyone sort of looked at me like I was that guy from last Halloween...”

“Oh, yikes.”

“... Anyway, I’ll call at the end of the day.”

“You’re sure you don’t need to go home?”

“Well I’d like to but our insurance is so bad our boss thought I might die, so.”

“Right.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, Garrett-”

“Whoa, where the hell did you come from?!”

“The cafe. Here.” Dina tosses a pack of toothpicks to Garrett. “Hold one of these up around Jonah’s heart and see if he panics.”

Garrett looks at her skeptically.

“It’s the closest thing we have to a wooden stake! I mean, I could carve one, but we’d lose a chair or two.”

“Yeah, Dina,” Garrett pushes the toothpicks back over to her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why? Scared you’ll kill him by accident? You can’t trip, it’ll be fine.”

“No, because this is stupid. And because if he is a vampire, I don’t want him to think I tried to murder him!”

Dina considers this. “... Alright, fair game. I’ll find someone else to do this.”

“Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Any idiot could hold a toothpick to someone else’s heart.”

Dina walks away, huffing, as Garrett is left with an odd feeling of dejection.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah pauses as he walks past patio. He doubles back, and spots Marcus using one of the grills.

Marcus looks up and grins. “Hey! Feeling peckish?”

“Um, are you allowed to be- isn’t that kind of dangerous, actually?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I uh, get special treatment after cutting off my thumb,” Marcus brags.

“Oh... kay. Um...” Jonah looks at the steaks, mouth watering. “I guess... I could use a snack.”

“Great! How rare do you want it?”

“... Do you mean how well-done? Just- usually people don’t start with the assumption of rare...”

“Well, a lot of my friends like their steaks bloody.” Marcus laughs, and then looks at Jonah very seriously.

“Oh, um, that-that’s... cool.” Jonah looks at the steaks sitting on the plate, in a pool of red, metallic-smelling, warmed blood...

He wipes his mouth. “Um, medium rare,” he says quickly. “And I’m just- I’m going to head over to the um, I think I saw a spill! In isle, uh... yeah.”

Jonah quickly walks away, and Marcus pulls out his phone to text Cheyenne. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Glenn, I was thinking and I think we should send Jonah to- whoa.” Amy stops in her tracks, standing in Glenn’s doorway completely still as her boss tries to quickly hide the fact that he’d been crying.

“Um, go on, Amy.”

“Glenn, are you okay?” Amy closes the door and sits down.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Glenn waves off. “Just worried about Jonah, you know?”

Amy sighs. “Yeah, I am too. He said he heard a ringing in his ears, so I think maybe we should send him to the doctor and just use the jar method-”

“NO!”

Amy startles at Glenn’s shout. “Why?”

“Because he’s a vampire now, and-and who knows what the scientists will do to him!”

Amy closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to process that. “I’m sorry, he- what? Why do you think that?”

“Everyone does!” Glenn swings his arm out for emphasis. 

“... So... there’s no evidence, just people spreading rumors?”

“He had the two holes in his neck!”

“Okay, but, vampires aren’t real. You know that, right?”

Glenn shakes his head. “The Devil can do terrible things to good people! And-and one of those things, is turning best friends into vampires!”

Brushing past the fact that Glenn believes Jonah to be one of his best friends, Amy stands up. “Okay, Glenn, how about we go out there and look at Jonah.”

“... I’m scared to.”

“Just come on.”

Amy drags Glenn out of the office and runs into Justine. “Hey, Justine, where’s Jonah?”

“Oh, I think he’s at the grills-”

“Kay, thanks!”

She takes Glenn to Jonah despite Glenn’s protests. “See? Jonah is perfectly norm-”

She stops, and Glenn shrieks.

“Not what it looks like!” Marcus assures, fumbling with a napkin to wipe the blood off of Jonah’s chin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*minutes earlier*

“Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?” Jonah asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as Marcus covers his eyes.

“I want you to guess which one is cooked right without seeing it.”

“Wh-why, though?”

“Because... it’s a game!”

It’s to see how sensitive Jonah is to blood.

Marcus cuts a slice of steak, and holds it up. Jonah hesitantly opens his mouth, and Marcus shoves the steak piece in. Jonah coughs. “Very aggressive.”

Marcus shrugs, and waits.

“... Medium well?”

“Yes! Noice! My friend knows his steaks. Okay, here’s another one.”

Jonah chokes a little. “You really don’t have to shove it, in, um, you almost stabbed me.”

“Just tell me the steak...”

Jonah chews. “... Medium rare?”

“You are on fire! Okay, one more.”

Marcus shoves the fork into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah hisses in pain, biting down on the very rare piece of steak. Blood dribbles down his chin, both from the meat and his own mouth.

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry! Let me help, um-” Marcus grabs a napkin, and starts trying to unfold it.

Amy and Glenn round the corner at that exact moment. Marcus looks at them with slight fear. “Not what it looks like!”

Jonah coughs, spitting out the steak onto his lap. “This game went horribly wrong!” He takes off the blindfold and grabs a napkin himself, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.

Glenn looks like he’s about to faint. Amy holds her hands up. “What the hell happened?!”

“I was seeing if Jonah could tell different steaks apart and I kind of, uh, stabbed his mouth.”

Jonah looks at Marcus with an incredulous glare (that almost seems to have concern mixed in, but all of Jonah’s expressions look like that).

“Okay, Marcus, go back to the warehouse! Jonah, let me see- dammit, okay, lets go find some kind of antibiotic mouth spray or something-” 

She leads Jonah away as Glenn and Marcus are left behind.

Glenn looks around for a moment, swinging his arms. “So, um... how did he do?”

Marcus smiles. “Awesome,” he chuckles. “That guy is totally a vampire, I’d bet my windshield.”

“Oh.” Glenn’s voice is weak. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

Marcus holds up a plate. “Want a steak?”

“... Sure.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy takes the plastic off the spray and holds it up. “Okay, take away the napkin.”

Jonah takes it out of his mouth, and Amy shines a light in so she can aim the spray. “Where did he get you? I can’t see any holes.”

Jonah points. Amy squints. “No, there’s nothing. Not even any bleeding.”

They both look at the very bloody napkin.

Amy’s brows furrow. “... Sure healed fast.”

“I-I guess it felt worse than it was.” Jonah runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

She checks again, and her eyes drift to his teeth. ... Are those two actually sharper, or is she just imagining it?

“... Yeah. Nothing.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah heads back out onto the floor, stomach rumbling. He got two bites of steak, which just made him more hungry really.

He passes by the grills. Glenn and Marcus are gone, but a steak remains. The rare one.

He stares at it for a moment, and then gives in. He walks over, picks up the plate-

And the next thing he knows he’s holding the steak in his hands, and it’s bone-dry. He blinks, and looks up and around as though he thinks someone else could have come in and dried out the steak.

He has a metallic taste in his mouth, and he does feel marginally less hungry. Still at a stomach-growling level, but it had been starting to hurt.

He looks down at the now inedible steak. He sets it back down and walks away, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why he had blacked out again.

He passes by Sandra, who’s texting something to someone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another point to Vampire.” Cheyenne smugly marks it down. “Told you.”

“Alright, alright, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Mateo admits. “So what do we do? I mean, we can’t keep working with him now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he tries to bite us?”

“Ooooh. ... I guess I hadn’t thought of that. ... He’s probably going to be a nice vampire, though.”

“Sure, for now. But what if someone like, eats his lunch?”

“Wouldn’t his lunch be people now?”

“Okay, so then, what if someone becomes his lunch? ... Should we carry garlic on us?”

“Ew.”

“Super ew, but I think I’d rather stink than be dead. Which is saying a lot, when I run out of cologne I use Febreeze.”

“Which kind?”

“The sea breeze one.”

Cheyenne nods approvingly. “Well, maybe we can get some holy water? I bet Glenn could get us some.”

“Oh, I think there’s some at my house, actually. Tita uses it when we get ant infestations.”

They both smile at their foolproof plan, and keep working.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy watches Jonah from a distance.

He can’t be. It’s just not possible. Vampires aren’t real, they’re just in books she swipes from Emma (and reads herself) sometimes. And besides, Jonah doesn’t look like one!

Well, he kind of does, but he looked like that before this morning. Although he does look a little paler than usual...

No, no, it’s winter, of course he looks paler than usual, everyone looks paler than usual because there’s no sun.

... It was weird how his mouth was completely fine... and he has been acting weird today...

...

She plasters on a smile and walks over. “Hey, Jonah.” She wraps him up in a big hug.

“Oh! Um, hi, Amy.” He hugs back, and Amy shivers a little.

He is freezing.

She pulls away. “Just restocking the freezer?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Oh. You just, feel really cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a chill all day.” He rubs his arms. “Not even coffee helped. But I don’t think I have hypothermia, so I’m not sure what’s going on...”

Now Amy feels a chill. “Well, um, how about we go sit by that heater display, then?”

“Yes, thank you, I need that.” 

As they walk, Amy tries to get a good look at his teeth. He rambles on the whole way over, but she can’t get a good, clear view. 

They sit down, and Jonah sighs. “Oh, that’s so much better. Feel less like a walking corpse now.” He laughs at himself.

Amy laughs too, forcing it out as she eyes his smile.

Those two teeth are definitely longer.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun sets over the Cloud 9, and Jonah sighs in relief. Finally, almost time to go home. He’s going to sleep right awa-

He pauses his mopping (someone chugged three giant sodas and did not have the stomach for it). 

Where did that sudden burst of energy come from? 

“Must be the relief,” he mutters. He finishes mopping up, and is immediately approached by a customer.

“Excuse me, but there’s a section back there with broken lights. Can you help me find my way around?”

Jonah sighs, hands on his hips, but nods. “Sure! Sure, no problem.” 

He hadn’t even noticed the broken lights earlier, he could have sworn he could see perfectly. He follows the customer over to the dim, isolated area.

And blacks out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Cheyenne?” Amy walks up to the cosmetics booth. “I heard you guys did a betting pool about Jonah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cheyenne chuckles. “It was super fun, everyone was sending me stuff all day and some of the tests were super silly-”

“How about we shut it down?”

“... But, it’s almost the end of the day...”

“Yeah, I know, I know, just, it seems in poor taste.”

“How?”

“Kind of feels like it’s making light of what happened to Jonah, right? And I mean, I don’t know how I feel about gambling about someone who has a gambling problem, you know?”

Cheyenne considers, and nods. “Well, we won’t keep it up, it was just for today. We all know the answer anyway, he’s totally a vampire.”

“No! No, uh, he isn’t, because vampires don’t exist. So he can’t be.”

“Um, he totally is.”

“But he is not, because that’s fantasy.”

“No, really! Look at all this evidence everyone sent me.” Cheyenne pulls out her phone and shows the group chat to Amy. “We would have counted you in but... well, this.” She gestures to Amy, and the current conversation as a whole.

A crowd has begun to gather. Amy turns and looks at everyone. “Okay, guys, it was a fun day but this, vampire betting pool thing is over!”

There’s disgruntled chattering. “So there’s no payout?” someone shouts.

“Nope, everyone should take their own money back and let’s leave this to rest!”

“Like Jonah?” someone else jokes. The group chuckles.

“Not like Jonah, because Jonah is alive and well!”

“Well, vampires aren’t technically alive-”

“Sandra!” Amy snaps. “He is not a vampire!”

Dina scoffs. “Come on, even I think it’s obvious, and I’m not prone to thinking stuff like that. Unlike Glenn.”

“Where is Glenn, actually, he should be putting a stop to this-”

“He went home early. Something about needing to start a fundraiser to buy Jonah a new soul. His pastor is a con artist, but I respect his convincing marketing.”

“... Okay, then, Dina you put a stop to this.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonah! Is not! A vampire! There are no such things, and-and he just can’t be one, okay? Because he is a-a nervous, stuttery, sweet little man and it’s just not possible!”

Sandra glances over into the isles, and stiffens. “Uh, guys?”

“It could all be a ruse,” Dina says with a shrug. “He’s a creature of the night now. Can’t trust him anymore.”

“No, he is not!”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Mateo asks. 

“Why are you wearing a cross choker like you’re a teen going through a phase?” Amy fires back.

“This is to protect my bodily fluids from your ‘sweet little man’.” Mateo makes a sassy face at her.

“Guys,” Sandra says again, a little louder.

“He’s not my sweet little, I just meant he is in general a good guy!”

Garrett, highly amused, joins in the teasing. “Good looking?” 

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, he’s not bad I-I guess- how did this turn into a thing about me? Stop saying Jonah is a vampire when he is not!”

“Guys!” Sandra’s shout finally draws everyone’s attention. “Look.”

A blank-eyed customer shuffles out of the isles, a worried Jonah following. “Ma’am, please, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your car? What happened?”

She doesn’t reply, which seems to make Jonah more frantic. As she walks past, everyone gets a clear view of her neck. 

Two little holes, slightly bleeding.

And Jonah seems to have more color in his face.

“Ma’am, please, what happened in the isle? Did you trip? Did I trip and fall into you? Whatever happened I am very sorry-”

They both disappear out the doors. Cheyenne lowers her phone. “I’m texting that to Glenn.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sounds those of Cheyenne typing on her phone.

Finally, Dina pipes up. “I think Amy lost the pool.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

BTS Reaction | You’re Evicted [BFF Series] [Request]

Seokjin:

It was the only option you had left, everyone else was busy with their own problems to help you. You didn't want to turn to Jin for help but he was the only person you had, he'd always been the only person you had. So you were sitting on your doorstep waiting for him to show up and you were preparing yourself for the questions he was going to have for you. Questions as to why you were sitting on your doorstep surrounded by boxes of your things and wanting him to take you home to your family home.

"What-" He stopped himself from asking anything when he saw you wipe your face, you'd been crying and he didn't want to make it any worse for you so he silently took the boxes and started putting them into the car with you.

"Where to?" You looked at him, you sniffled a little.

"Home, my family home." It was going to b a long drive so it started in silence. Jin didn't want to try and upset you but you'd been best friends since you were 6 and you saved him from a giant bug.

"What happened?" He questioned when you reached a traffic jam on the motorway,

"I was kicked out. Stupid ex-boyfriend of mine started filing complaints and I got kicked out." Jin had never liked your ex but now he hated him even more.

"Where are you going?" You questioned when Jin turned up the exit towards his apartment.

"You can come and stay with me. I'm not letting you go home to that place, you hate it there." You shook your head at him.

"I love you Jin but I don't think your wife would like me staying with you," You laughed trying to make him realise what he was doing but he didn't care. He wasn't about to let his best friend go home to a house where she wasn't wanted and where no one had offered to go and pick her up.

"Jin, please...She hates me enough as it is." He didn't care, she would just have to get over it. You were his best friend for years and she had friends he didn't like but he never stopped her from seeing them.

"It's just for a couple of nights, I'll find a decent hotel and put you up there until you can find your own place." You knew there was no use in trying to fight Jin on anything, once his mind was set it was set on that one thing. It had always been that way even when you were kids, you smiled at him softly as he continued to drive in the direction of his house.

"Thank you, Jin." You whispered knowing there was nothing you were going to be able to do to make it up to him but you would thank him every day for the rest of your life if you had to.

"It's what any best friend would do." You smiled and stared out of the window feeling slightly better about everything but it was going to be a long journey ahead but as long as Jin was with you throughout it you knew you could do it.

Yoongi:

You pulled the hoodie strings tighter as you walked around the streets, it was starting to rain and you knew you were going to be stuck out here if you didn't find somewhere to go and soon but there was no one to turn to. Your mother told you that it was your own fault and you should be left to deal with the consequences and your friends had all turned their backs on you the moment that it happened. Well all of them except for your best friend Yoongi, you'd been best friends since you were kids but you weren't telling him about this. It was way too embarrassing for you to go to about this, you were evicted from your apartment because your landlord decided to raise the rent without telling you - which was illegal but because you were late on four payments before you didn't have any leg to stand on to hold it against him. The rain started to pour as you got onto Yoongi's road, it was on your way to the local shelter but you didn't want to go up there and tell him all of this. Tell him that you were kicked out because you couldn't afford to live, tell him you were fire a month ago. It was too much to dump on him,

"Y/n?!" You turned around to see Jungkook walking up to you, he looked like he'd just gotten back from the studio. He took one look at you and pulled you down the driveway towards their front door. You'd never really spoken to him before, just on occasion when you went to the studio with Yoongi but never enough for him to be concerned about your well being.

"Yes, Yes. Well if they turn up will you let me know?" You heard Yoongi's panicked tone as you walked through the door.

"Found them," Jungkook said pulling you further into the house, you took one look at Yoongi and knew he hadn't been sleeping well. His hair was a mess, he was in sweatpants and a tank top as he hunched over papers in front of him. The phone that was in his hand was dropped onto the coffee table and he rushed over to you, grabbing your face and turning it around.

"Where have you been?! We've been worried sick!" He yelled looking you in the eyes,

"You're cold," He started walking you towards his bedroom and sat you down on the bed while he went to turn on the shower coming back in to see you sitting in the same place he'd left you in,

"Get changed or you'll get sick." You turned your head to look at him and frowned,

"How did you know-"

"Your mum called me when she sent you away, she felt awful but you wouldn't go back to her. She thought you'd come here but you didn't, where have you been?!" You looked into his eyes, he looked terrified at what might have happened to you and he was. He was scared that something had happened, that you'd been killed while trying to make it to his or that you'd been kidnapped or something.

"I thought someone kidnapped you,"

"You know they'd bring me back within a matter of seconds, I'm too annoying." You joked and he smiled, ruffling your hair up glad to know that his best friend was still inside there.

"Get a shower, and then come and eat something with me...We'll figure all of this out together, okay?" You nodded and stood up, you were about to walk into the bathroom when you called Yoongi back,

"Yoongi?"

"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder at you,

"Thank you."

"What are best friends for? Now go and have a shower, you smell like you'd rolled in something dead." You giggled softly at him and headed into the bathroom to change out of the clothes you'd been wearing for three days and then stepped under the water.

Hoseok:

Hoseok walked down the road to your house expecting to see your car in the driveway but the closer he got he realised that there was nothing in your driveway, the windows were covered by wooden panels and your front door had a huge metal door across it. You were standing there handing your keys over to a bald man,

"Y/n?" You turned not expecting anyone to call your name, Hoseok was standing there with a frown on his face.

"You're supposed to be on tour."

"What happened?" He questioned ignoring the fact that you'd pointed out that he wasn't supposed to be there, you ignored him but he only questioned you again wanting answers from you.

"I kicked her out. She never paid on time and when she did she thought I would brush it under the rug that she was short on her rent." Hoseok took out his wallet ready to pay for the rent until the man told him that it had been that way for months and you'd been behind for a while.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You shook your head looking at all of the boxes that were laid out on the driveway,

"Where's your car?"

"Impounded." You groaned. Instead of questioning you more and making the situation worse, Hoseok told you to wait there. He rushed off to go and get his car.

(X)

You explained everything to him once he got you back to his apartment and into some different clothes.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have helped you with your rent?" You sighed looking at him and he knew what that look meant, he'd offered you money before and it started a week-long fight about not taking money from your friends. It was just something you couldn't do.

"Well you're staying here until we find you a new place, it'll be like one giant sleepover." You smiled at how enthusiastic he was about this it kind of helped make it all feel better.

"What about work? What happened there?" You sighed and rolled your eyes,

"I got fired for punching a customer but in my defence, he grabbed my ass so he deserved it." Hoseok smiled proudly, you'd always been able to look after yourself and he loved that about you, it was how you met. He was going to 'rescue' you from playground bullies when you were kids but you ended up rescuing him instead when they tried to bully him.

"I'll figure something out Hobi, letting me stay is more than enough-"

"I know Yoongi is looking for someone to be his assistant? Jimin is always looking for someone too." You knew he was trying to be nice by offering you them but there were more people with better qualifications for the job.

"I'll think about it, can I use the shower and go to sleep? I'm tired, I was up at 4 packing everything I owned up." He nodded and told you that you knew where everything was. He watched you leave and called up Jimin and Yoongi to tell them he would send over your CV and things for them to look at he wasn’t going to let you go through this alone and he was going to do anything and everything he could to make this easier for you, he loved you like a little sibling so he wasn’t going to let you struggle alone.

Namjoon:

First it was your job that you lost, you got fired because of low-income rate to the business and then your apartment followed. You were evicted due to not having the money for rent which you couldn't pay because you didn't have a job. Your life felt like it was falling apart and you had no one to turn to for help. You ended up finding a hotel that took you in, you took a job as a maid and you were working to keep a room and food until you could get back up on your feet, you told no one. You dropped off the face of the earth which is how Namjoon turned up at your empty apartment. The place was boarded up and he frowned having no idea where you had gone, he called up everyone you spoke to beside him but they hadn't heard from you in weeks. Panicked he turned to your landlord for help who told him you were working in a hotel on the outskirts of town.

"I'm looking for one of your maids-"

"Sir, we don't offer that kind of service here...Maybe you're confused."

"I'm not confused and I'm not trying to pay someone for sex. I'm looking for Y/n y/l/n, they started here around a week ago?" You turned around the corner to see Namjoon standing in the lobby of the hotel covered in sweat and turning red in the face from anger.

"Joonie?!" His shoulders relaxed once he spotted you and he rushed over to check on you,

"How did you find me?"

"I asked your landlord, what happened? Why did you disappear without telling anybody." People were staring at you so you took Namjoon to your room and sat him down on the bed.

"I got kicked out, I'm assuming you know that since you said about my landlord." He watched you walk around the small room and start cleaning up and he held out his hand to stop you.

"Why didn't you tell anybody..."

"Why would I? 'Hi yes, I just wanted to tell you that I got fired and I got kicked out all in the same week, why yes, you're right I am pathetic.' Namjoon I didn't want people to know." He could see where you were coming from with this but he hated that you were doing all of this on your own, he wanted to do something to help you. He'd been best friends with you for years and you'd always done everything you could to help him.

"Come work for me."

"What? Namjoon don't be stupid, I can't sing." He shook his head at you and told you to sit down.

"Work for me, be my assistant or something in the BigHit building." You thought about it for a couple of minutes, working for Namjoon would be weird but it would be a lot better than living in this tiny room.

"You can come and stay at the dorms until you can get your own place...We'll look after you." You thought about it a little more before nodding at him.

"Okay, well as first-order as your boss I order you to quit this job and go back to the dorms. You look like you haven't eaten anything in days, so we'll order a big take out tonight." You smiled to yourself about how kind Namjoon was, he'd always been this way with you it was just his nature.

"Thanks, Joonie," You whispered to him before leaving to find the manager.

Jimin:

Your mum was the one that called Jimin to come around and see you, you were staying at her place trying to get back on your feet but going from her place and to your job was taking up half of the money you earnt while the rest went onto food for yourself. She'd called Jimin because she knew he lived closer to your workplace and it would be much easier for you to stay with him than it would be for her but he had no idea you'd even moved back home.

"Mum what was the big emergency-" You stopped midsentence when you saw Jimin standing in your bedroom and not your mum.

"What are you doing here?" He asked looking around the room and then back to you. You walked further into the room and dropped your bag down onto the floor beside your bed.

"I think I should be asking you that." You shot back instantly feeling the need to be defensive about him being there but he was your best friend. He was just trying to look out for you and make sure you were okay and he couldn't do that if you didn't tell him when something was wrong.

"What happened?" You shook your head not wanting to talk about it,

"Well you're coming to mine, it's closer and I can help you find a place close by." You stared at him and then noticed your mum coming into the room with cardboard boxes,

"You're kicking me out too?" She sighed not wanting you to see it that way.

"I'm not kicking you out, I'm making you see that living with Jimin is the better option for you financially." She started packing everything up again and you stared at Jimin.

"We've been friends for years, did you really think I was going to let you do this alone?" You sighed knowing he was right, your mother slipped out of the room knowing you needed some time alone with him.

"I didn't want you to think I was dumb or weak for losing my place, so I came out here...Thought I could make it alone and I couldn't." He sat you down on the edge of your bed and pulled your head to rest on his shoulder.

"You just need a little help and I'll help, me and the boys will help you as much as you need." You smiled softly and looked around the room.

"I guess it will feel good not to be back here all the time." You groaned looking at all of the posters that you still had up from when you were a kid,

"If it'll make you feel at home you can put up a poster in your room at my place, I think I have one of me, your bias of course." You pushed him off the edge of the bed and started packing up everything you were going to need while you stayed at his.

Taehyung:

When Taehyung got to your front door he thought there was a birthday card stapled to it at first but once he got closer he saw that giant red writing on the front 'Eviction notice' was on the paper instead and your door was open slightly.

"Y/n?" You froze once you heard his voice and you turned around to see him standing there holding a present and card. You forgot today was even your birthday until you saw him staring at you. He watched as you tried to come up with some kind of excuse as to why you were packing everything you owned into boxes but instead of questioning you he placed his things down and started to help you.

"Clothes? Which box?" You frowned as he tried to help you, you had been friends for years.

"Any with the room, there's no organisation here." You whimpered trying not to cry in front of him but it was hard when he was just trying to help you without asking what was happening. Taehyung would act now and ask questions later, he'd always been that way since you were kids.

(X)

"Alright, well where are we taking them? New place?" You locked the door and posted the keys back through. He'd done his best not to question anything happening until now but he was concerned as to where you were planning on going.

"Mums got my old ready so pack up my car."

"You're moving all the way back out there?" You nodded,

"I don't have much of a choice Tae," He nodded and made you face him,

"Yes you do, move in with me. Until you get a place. You can stay in the spare room in my apartment. It's close to work and you won't have to take a long drive..." He stopped when he realised you were crying again,

"I don't have a job either Tae, I have nothing-"

"You have me, you have your best friend. I'm here. You're staying with me and I'm not taking no for an answer." He took the last box from your hand and put it into the boot of your car before taking your car keys and getting inside.

"Get in." He ordered and you got in without thinking about it. He drove off down the road and towards his place, it was closer to the town centre that your place was so there would be good opportunities for other jobs.

"I'm not letting you go through this alone, we're best friends." He whispered to you as you thanked him for doing this for you.

Jungkook:

Jungkook didn't even know that you'd applied to work at BigHit until he saw you running around late one night carrying coffee, he followed behind you and watched you walk into the main conference room and back out again. You came face to face with him and screamed a little,

"You work here?" You nodded showing him the small lanyard around your neck and he followed you down the hallway. You were his best friend and had been for years but you hadn't told him when you started working there.

"Since when?" You groaned about not having the time to talk about it right now,

"I have to take these to Namjoon and then I have to go to my second job." Second job? He followed you up to Namjoon's studio and made you stop in front of him.

"Second job? Y/n, what's going on?" You sighed turning to look around you and then to Jungkook.

"I can't talk about it Kookie-" You only used that nickname on him when you were upset about something but didn't want to talk about it and why would you? You were just kicked out of your apartment and working three jobs to try and keep the hotel room you were currently staying in.

"I'm your best friend, what can't you talk about to me?" You started tearing up as he stared down at you expecting answers but all you had was embarrassing answers.

"I got kicked out so I'm working here, the cafe down the road and a bar in town. I need the money so I can afford the stupid hotel room I have and I can't afford to waste time Jungkook." He took the coffee for Namjoom from your hand and told you not to bother going to the bar,

"Go to the hotel, get your things and come back here. Do I make myself clear?" You frowned at him and shook your head,

"Speaking as your new boss, I want you to go and get your things and come back here." You nodded and he watched you run down the hall and out of the double doors at the bottom of the hall that leads to the staircase.

(X)

Your clothes were all away in drawers in the spare bedroom of Jungkook's apartment. He'd told you that you were going to live with him and that you were going to work for him,

"Jungkook it's too much." You told him when he told you he wasn't going to charge you rent,

"You need help y/n, I'm your best friend I'm not going to see you struggle and leave you on your own." You smiled at him as he walked into the room carrying two cups of hot chocolate and your favourite movie from when you were kids. He'd done this for years, whenever either of you were upset about something you would have hot chocolate and watch the film together, it was traditional at this point.

"We'll figure it all out, one day at a time." He promised you, leaning over and hugging you while you watched the movie together.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo @jooniesdarlingdimples @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​

[mendespideys]

room service | s.m.

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

a/n: when i posted this on my shawn blog, lots of people wanted a part 2 so i delievered! hope it’s not as disappointing to you as i feel it is 

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (very) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer.

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions.

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door when a knock echoed throughout the room.

Opening the door suspiciously, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered.

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room with a cart full of breakfast options as your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger.

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride.

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you were unlocking your phone and the next you were about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realized that you had never gotten his number because you had been too much of a chicken to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head.

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces puzzled themselves as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care.

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?”

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window.

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.”

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Viviana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator.

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him.

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar.

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started.

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn.

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her.

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were cocky, sure, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement.

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.”

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.”

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters.

“Lobby girl, huh? Clever,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long, though.”

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier.

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?”

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.”

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself.

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through.

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can get you front row tickets

it’s shawn btw

[kvngjoong]

she was a rainbow [one - hwang hyunjin]

→ hwang hyunjin x f!you, university!au, in which hyunjin discovers that his feelings aren’t as easy to understand as he first may have thought → 5.8k+, brief smut halfway through, angst and fluff, nothing that deep

part 1 of 3

“You have a crush on her, Hyunjin,” Minho says, sitting across from him at the table in the library. The elder is responding to a string of compliments directed at you, mostly sick of hearing how amazing Hyunjin though you were. “Please can you tell her that you love her and not me.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Love her?”

“That’s what it is, right?” Minho comments.

“Love?”

“Yeah, you love her.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I don’t think I love her. She’s just… a good friend of mine. Love? No. I can’t love someone. I’m only 21.”

“You think your age means you can’t love someone?” Minho questions.

Hyunjin doesn’t like cold winter nights.  

Compared to everything else, he hates them the most, but he finds himself walking down the path with snow crunching beneath his shoes to clear his mind. He hears being at one with nature is beneficial. He hears that spending time alone is also beneficial as you can focus on what you want. 

Hyunjin can’t do that, though. His mind is always filled with things he should be doing. Today he’s thinking about his parents. He works two jobs, you know, to help out with his two younger siblings. No one would know that if they took one look at him - he’s an athlete. He’s given everything on a silver platter. 

He’s only in the soccer league for his university but somehow it gives everyone a quick judgement - he’s easy to dislike. He won’t lie, he knows girls look over at him in classes and it makes him smirk at the time, though he comes home lonely at the end of the day. He wonders if maybe someone will appreciate him for him, because at the moment no one really does. 

No one. 

And do you know how fucking much that sucks?

Hyunjin works two jobs and gets paid barely anything. He had to stick to wearing sports gear because he can’t afford anything else, he isn’t just some obnoxious athlete who wants to show off to everyone how talented he is. He hates it all. He doesn’t even believe his parents, his family, truly appreciate what he does. They don’t see him sleeping three hours a day because he has essays due and books to read. 

His head hurts. He doesn’t realise how much it’s affecting him until he trips on some iced snow, sending him toppling forward and onto his hands which are burnt from how cold the snow and ice is. He stays laying in the snow for a moment, eyes burning but still managing to become glassy. 

He stays there, and he cries. He lets his feelings get to him for the first time in a few months and bawls his eyes out in the middle of the night on a pavement covered in snow. He’s reached his last legs. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He hates everything here and—

“Hey.” Hyunjin freezes at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. The feminine voice makes him ponder - he doesn’t know who it belongs to. He remembers voices well, too. He blinks a few times before turning his head towards the voice. “Are you...okay?”

Hyunjin is mesmerised by your eyes for a moment. He notices the colours which are picked up but the streetlights and the moon, the way your hair falls down onto your face and how you show concern for him - a stranger. It’s polite to ask if he’s okay but he’s fallen over on the track before and never seen this look. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. He clears his throat as he pushes himself up. He remains dismissive of you – he’s honestly scared that he has shown emotions to you and that you’ll use it against him. 

You’re shorter than him; he feels like a giant beside you really. A protective stance falls on him for a moment as he wonders why you’re out here on your own, but falls when he’s brought back to the real world. 

“You cut your head,” you tell him. You gesture towards his forehead and take a step closer, but Hyunjin steps back slowly. He brings a hand towards his head and feels the blood dripping from it, which he wipes with his finger tips. “I can help you get home if you want?”

Hyunjin feels stupid for having to rely on you, so he declines your request. He just wants to go home and sleep, really, his head is pounding and he’s close to crying again. “I’m fine.”

A thought occurs to him as he turns around. He shouldn’t leave you without saying thank you - he sounds rude and his parents would scold him for this kind of behaviour. They’d also scold him if they found out he left a girl on her own in the streets when it was late at night and so cold, too. 

He forgets it, he shouldn’t fake being nice. It won’t get him anywhere. He’ll have to fake it for the rest of the night and he can’t do that. Hwang Hyunjin is over being fake and he’d rather walk away from that girl and leave her there, which is exactly what he does. He heads home with a raging headache and vision blurred. He doesn’t know if you made it home okay and he doesn’t really care too much either. 

If it makes you feel any better, Hyunjin didn’t even check his forehead for the damage he’d done before collapsing onto his bed and falling straight asleep, only to wake up the next day with blood all over his pillow. Honestly, he didn’t have the money to wash it so just turned it over and ignored it, placing a plaster on the wound before rushing off to his 10am class. 

His 10am class, based on international relations between America and China, doesn’t go by too easily. He still has a pounding headache and he can’t seem to get the previous night off his mind since it keeps replaying. He has too many questions - the first of which is who are you?

Being in the sports teams means he’s friends with a lot of people. He won’t act like that’s not the case, because it is - he knew too many people to keep up with. He doesn’t recall ever seeing you though, because he swears that he would remember your face. 

You didn’t look new though either. You knew what you were doing out in the cold that night and you knew your way around. You knew that you could approach Hyunjin which meant you must have seen him in a sports event before, since Hyunjin isn’t the most approachable person to exist in the world. His stern look usually drives people away from him, not to him. 

So Hyunjin spends the hour searching for you instead, using every means he can to just work out who you are and why you were walking on his late night/early morning path the same day he was. Privacy issues, you know?

He thinks he’s successful when he comes across a blank profile but soon realises that the gender doesn’t match, nor does the language. He goes through as many society pages he can to solidify some kind of person for you but doesn’t get anywhere with what he does. It makes him almost crazy as he puts down his phone with four minutes to spare, staring down to the professor with wide eyes as he realises the lecture was on coursework. Oh well, he’d do it with a few days to spare from the due date anyway - he has bigger problems on his mind. 

Bigger problems not being the pillow that was covered in blood, nor the shift at work he has later. 

He does try to forget your face for a while, and he thinks that the lecture’s done it for him when he starts to worry about what books he needs to be borrowing from the library before everyone else got their hands on them. He’s focused on a title of a book all the way from his lecture to his dorm, but the second he looks in the mirror and sees the awful looking plaster on his head he’s reminded that you saw him out there last night.

And maybe you didn’t know your way around, or know who he was. 

Hyunjin goes straight back to wondering where you would have disappeared to, peeling off the plaster a little slower than he should have to feel a particular sting on his skin that made up for the dick move he pulled yesterday. 

You were cute. Was that his motive? Was he so deprived of human contact that the second someone who was relatively cute spoke with him, he had to know exactly what they were doing and where they were doing, lest know who they were? Most possibly. He’s straight back on his phone as soon as he can be, forgetting the shower he planned on having and instead scrolling through SNS to try and find someone who vaguely matched your appearance. 

He’s almost late for work, that’s how long he spends on his phone. He forgets to charge it too, and since he had lent his portable charger to Woojin a few weeks ago and Woojin had never given it back to him, Hyunjin was going to have to deal with going to work with 10% battery and the constant frustration that he still couldn’t find you no matter what he did.

He was mad, and the poor drive through customers could see that as much as anyone else.

Hyunjin had run all the way from his dorm to the local McDonald’s that he’d taken a job when he first started here. He arrived a minute before his shift started and went straight to his position at the first window of the drive through, grabbing the headset from the girl who was on the way out. He didn’t want to be there. Every shift he hated with a burning passion. 

He still managed to give every driver a fake smile, hair pushed back under his McDonald’s cap that he also hated with a passion. As usual, he’d have people at the university come through and compliment him on his looks (only to drive away laughing for whatever reason they could find), and each time he’d see another person he recognised his grip on the card machine would only get tighter. 

The only thought that kept him grounded? Well, it was you.

He ignored the complaints from his manager with a roll of his eyes, his boredom occupied by thoughts of you and your pretty face that he was slowly developing a crush on. It was easy to stare at a screen and listen to someone read out an order, even easy to blur out the sound of a middle aged man’s voice that he really didn’t care for. 

The hours go slow nonetheless. By the time it reaches 10pm and the night shift people are starting to arrive, he’s wishing he had a phone to accompany his walk home. He forgot to bring a coat in his rush earlier, so the only relief he has from the bitter wind is his long sleeved shirt that smells like the kitchen grease. It’s lucky that not many people are out on a Thursday when he walks home from work. It’s dead silent on his walk back through the icy paths. 

Hyunjin is careful over the patches of white on the paths this time, keeping an eye on his footsteps despite the pain in his heels and lower back. Thoughts of his bed flood his mind more than you did earlier, and his eyes start to fall shut with each step. 

He’s lucky that the sound of some ice snapping brings him from his tiredness, since he looks up to make sure that whoever was cracking the ice wasn’t going to come at him with an icicle. 

No, they’re not coming at him. He thought it was just him on the lit path, but his eyes fall on the one person he would have hoped to be on the path at this time. Or not. The same protectiveness fills Hyunjin’s senses at the sight of you walking down the path, no hat or scarf to keep you warm, your jacket unbuttoned and hands shoved into your pockets

He’s not seen someone that pretty since technically yesterday, but ever. A smile erupts on his face when he realises this is his opportunity to talk to you and see how you are, find out more about you. He couldn’t care for the time, nor the hairs on his arms which stand on end, he wants to talk to you and he finds a sudden surge of confidence when you look up from the ground and straight to him. 

He doesn’t think you’ll recognise him, though he assumes you caught his eyes because he was the one staring at you before. You carry on walking towards him, like he does with you, and you both meet somewhat in the middle with about a metre between the two of you.

“Hey,” Hyunjin greets, smile still stuck to him though disappearing slightly with his words, “it’s me, from yesterday.”

You hum, gesturing to his forehead. “I don’t believe that you dressed that properly.”

“I put a plaster on it,” Hyunjin tells you.

“You smacked your head on ice and tried to make it better with a plaster? You’re crazy.” Hyunjin is less apprehensive when you reach forward to touch his head this time. He winces when the tips of your fingers reach the edge of the wound, though he watches your eyes intently the whole time. You roll your eyes as you take your hand away. “It’s probably infected. You know how much pain you’re gonna be in if you don’t fix it?”

Hyunjin shrugs, readjusting his cap. He pushes his slightly overgrown hair back under his cap and pulls it down slightly to hide the cut. “It’s just a cut. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?”

“I hurt myself a lot.” Hyunjin realises his words are a little less descriptive when he sees your brows furrow. He stutters a cover for his words when you start to look a little more concerned. “I mean, I play soccer. I get hurt a lot when I play. This isn’t that bad.”

You nod at his clarification, though still seem skeptical. “Why were you out here so late last night?”

“Why were you?”

“Touche.” 

Hyunjin takes your silence as a defensive mechanism. You may not know who he is after all - if you were really aware of who Hwang Hyungjin was, you’d have been asking him to listen to your stories and make him feel sorry for you so that you could post about it the next day on SNS. He takes your silence, your awkward stare down at the ground, as an opportunity to create something new. 

“I’m Hyunjin,” he tells you, catching your attention from the ground again, “I like walking at night to clear my head. It makes me feel like I have less problems. Plus, I like the cold.”

Your smile is prettier than he could have imagined it to be. “You like the cold?”

“It’s refreshing. It makes me feel like… I have feelings. ‘Cause when I’m cold it reminds me that there’s a whole world around me that I tend to ignore for most of the day.”

“You sound like you need a therapist, Hyunjin.”

“Probably,” Hyunjin replies. He looks behind you, checking to see if anyone else is around. He can only see a bird or two on the grass behind you. The rest of the world isn’t paying attention to him. “Do you wanna... Do something?”

Hyunjin’s heart drops when you don’t answer immediately. Forwardness usually worked on people. He can tell but your blank expression that you were not expecting to hear him say that. He still finds some hope when you check behind you too, then turn back to him with the beginning of a smile. 

Hyunjin will end up having a bit of a complex if you keep giving into him so easily. “We just met.”

“It’s cold,” he counters, “and we’re both out here for absolutely no reason. If you’re out here for the same reason as me then I imagine you want something to take your mind off things, too.”

You’re apprehensive to reply again, though this time Hyunjin’s heart beats a little quicker. You nod once, then again, stepping forward so that you’re next to him. “Sure. Let’s take our minds off things.”

Hyunjin nods, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you look up to him. He debates linking your arm, though given you’re nothing like the girls he usually talks to, he won’t be doing that any time soon. Instead, he walks beside you at a reasonable pace, waiting for you to speak in case he makes you feel uncomfortable. 

And you do, eventually. A little past the first building as you reach the gates to the main road, you start to tell him that you’re outside so that you can think, too. How you saw him fall yesterday and felt bad that you didn’t do more. That you were new to the university and wanted to explore the grounds whilst you thought through things instead of staring at a blank wall. Eventually he gets to hear what he wanted the entire time. 

“My name is (Y/N), by the way.”

And oh is that a name Hyunjin exhausts with every opportunity that he can. He likes the way it leaves his lips, the sound it makes when he calls it across the room when he notices you from a distance. He even likes the way it looks as a contact on his phone. 

He’ll stare at it for hours as he lays in bed, unsure whether he should text you or call you, or just have another look through your Instagram to see your pretty face again. He’ll find himself looking through your conversations, admiring the pictures you’ve been posting, reading through the comments on your post for longer than he used to spend wondering how much he hated himself. 

He doesn’t walk the paths of the campus under the moonlight anymore, and instead he spends it with your words or your thoughts. 

“You have a crush on her, Hyunjin,” Minho says, sitting across from him at the table in the library. The elder is responding to a string of compliments directed at you, mostly sick of hearing how amazing Hyunjin though you were. “Please can you tell her that you love her and not me.”

Hyunjin frowns. “Love her?”

“That’s what it is, right?” Minho comments. 

“Love?” 

“Yeah, you love her.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I don’t think I love her. She’s just… a good friend of mine. Love? No. I can’t love someone. I’m only 21.”

“You think your age means you can’t love someone?” Minho questions. His glare is enough to indicate to Hyunjin that he’s said something wrong, so he panics as he tries to backtrack to a reasonable point in the conversation.

He knew he wasn’t in love, because as much as he would have told himself that he liked the way you looked at him and enjoyed your company, he wouldn’t be in a position to admit that you had his heart and that wasn’t going to change. 

No one had his heart. Hyunjin made sure of that.

It might not have been obvious when he would spend nights with you on the couch, head in your lap, heart beating for you and only you. He would ignore the thoughts going through his head each time you smiled at him, the distant memory of Minho’s words never truly leaving his mind. Each time your skin touched his he would remember that word. 

Love.

Could he love you?

No, that wasn’t right. Everyone had the ability to love someone. Hyunjin knew that. 

Would he love you?

That a decision that he had to make on his own, when he was ready to. But when does anyone actually understand if they are truly ready to love someone?

Hyunjin’s biggest fear, admittedly, is that one day he’ll look at you and the feeling of wholeness will disappear. When he stares up at the ceiling at night, a flurry of possibilities meeting him, Hyunjin’s chest starts to hurt a little. He thinks that there’s a chance his question would already be answered, especially when he sits across from you and has his chin on his hand, listening to the words you sound out so carefully. 

“I got invited to this thing, actually,” you tell him, sat on the corner of his kitchen counter. He looks up to you with a raised brow, urging for you to continue. “You can come, if you like?”

Hyunjin hums, placing the other slice of bread on his half completed sandwich. He picks it up and takes a bite, continuing as he chews with a hand covering his mouth. “What is it?”

“A party. You know, the kinda generic stuff. We just have to show up and talk to some people, stay if it’s okay, then leave if it’s kinda boring.”

“Sounds good,” Hyunjin tells you, feigning his enjoyment of the possibility of going to the one type of party he always tried to avoid. 

He thinks that it might be easier, considering that you’re going to be there and you make things easier for him. It was easy for him to act like he was enjoying himself when you’re by his side and it’s your smile that he’s directing all his attention at. So his agreement is purely on the basis that he’ll be with you.

You’re like his favourite song.

He listens to you on repeat, finding new sounds he didn’t hear before and a twist in the lyrics that make more sense each time he hears them. He starts you again each time you come to an end to savour the way you exhilarate every one of his senses and how his nerves go into overdrive each time they’re graced with your presence. His heart matches yours, every fibre of his being tailored to fit yours perfectly. 

His hands are entwined with yours, eyes full of admiration as you sing along to whatever is playing in the background. He truly forgets about everything around him. The people whispering that he’s with another girl, that he has found someone who will put up with him, that there is someone who can cope with listening to him each and every day. He doesn’t listen to them, only to you. 

He smiles the pain of the words he hears away, attention flickering between how you made him feel better, and you. You made him someone different. You made him feel like Hwang Hyunjin, not soccer player Hyunjin, not athlete Hyunjin, not even employee Hyunjin. Just Hwang Hyunjin without the labels that were plastered all over him. 

As you pull him into the spare bedroom of your friends place, he starts to forget everything he heard and returns just to you once more. 

“You’re pretty cute, Hyunjin,” you tell him, lips pressed to the corner of his. Your hands reach for the inside of the leather jacket he was wearing, peeling it from his chest and down to his arms. He catches what you’re trying to do and helps you out, pulling off his jacket and throwing it to the side. 

“Cute?” he repeats, fingers twisted in your hair. He gently pulls you back from him, eyes narrowed in response. “Only cute? I’m more than that.”

He’s so infatuated by your giggle that he lets you push him back against the door, fingers running through his own hair whilst your hips push as close to his as possible. “So fucking cute.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, reaching down to press a kiss to your lips this time. He stops just before your skin touches, revealing in the slight whine you give him in response. “And you’re so fucking beautiful.”

He wonders why he never kissed you before. His whole body is on fire with each of your little touches, and somewhere in between he manages to get his hands on the door to lock it behind him. He’d have happily continued to kiss you through the night, but he realises just after you that your bodies are both asking for something more. 

You tug at his belt, fingers undoing it with ease and following with his button and zipper. Hyunjin is surprised to see you spit on your hand once your done; he hisses when your hand slips through the waistband of his boxers, taking him fully into your hand beneath the black material. You look back up to his face, studying his features for all of a second before pulling him back onto you and leaving him with too many things to concentrate on. 

He did not think, in any way, shape, or form, that he would be locked in a random bedroom with you, making out with you as you jacked him off and relieved an unknown sexual desire he had in the back of his head this whole time. 

“You’re big,” you mumble against his lips breaking your contact for the briefest of seconds to build up his ego that had been deflated for so long. He tries to cut off his responsive moan but you’re too aware of it. “Do you want me to get you off, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin nods rapidly. He should have told you that he’d have done anything for you to let him reciprocate it, but it slips from his mind when your hand slides down his length, your thumb flicking over his tip before you return down to his shaft. Even he was surprised how hard he was already. 

But it was you, so he really should have seen it coming.

He tried his very best to be quiet but the way you made him feel was too much. It wasn’t that you were any better than others, he thought you really didn’t have that much experience anyway, it was just that it was you doing it to him. Stroking his cock up and down, telling him that it would feel good if he filled you up, asking him if next time you could use your mouth. 

Hyunjin can barely move past the one occasion he’s got here, yet alone think to a next time. He’s hung up over the slight twists of your hand and effortless touches, he can feel his vision slowly turning whiter and whiter until he sees a light and he’s cumming over your hand and the inside of his boxers. 

If he wasn’t living on the end of liquid confidence and so enthralled by you, he’d would never have asked you pushed you back against the door and reciprocated it, like he was meant to tell you he wanted to earlier. 

His dreams would forever be flooded with the look you gave him from above, one of your legs over his shoulder as he nipped at the inside of your thighs and moved on to do the exact same to your clit. He never expected you to taste so sweet. No one else had done before. 

So every time he closed his eyes he was stuck with the lock you gave him as he laid his tongue flat against you, every time he was met with radio silence he heard your moans, and he never found anything which matched your taste.

And part of him hoped it was the same for you, too.

Though he couldn’t guarantee anything. He walked home with you under the stars, arm around your shoulder, people around the completely oblivious to the world they were living in. Hyunjin can only look at you and smile, and wonder if he’s the only thought running through your head too. He’s not shy to kiss you a few more times on the way home, nor when he crawls into bed next to you and passes out from tiredness with his head on your shoulder. 

His thoughts of you only get more intense when he wakes up beside you and you’re cuddled up to him like you were the one with all the love for him. His heart almost melts, though he’s forced to leave early when he remembers he has a day shift at the reception for a bridal shop in town, his other job that pays him a little better but offers worse hours for him. 

Does he hope you’ll be there when he gets home? Yes. 

Is he left disappointed when you text call him twenty minutes before he’s meant to be home and tell him that you had an emergency thing to attend to, but you’d probably be free later? Kinda.

Hyunjin lets it go because he believes you when you say you’ll be free later, and he believes you when you text him and tell him that instead of that evening you’ll meet him for lunch the next day. It gives him an opportunity for some planning which he hasn’t been able to do for a while. 

“Do you think she’ll like them?” Hyunjin asks Minho, shoving the bouquet in his friend’s face so he has to smell it. He ignore Minho’s dirty look at carries on anyway. “I’m going to tell her that I like her.”

Minho frowns. “You haven’t told her yet?”

“I thought it was too soon.”

“You thought it was too soon?” Minho repeats, brows furrowed. He looks around the half empty library, then leans closer to Hyunjin so that he hears every word clearly. “You, my friend, are a fucking idiot.”

Hyunjin reenacts Minho’s previous look. The flowers are placed down onto the table and his lips turn downwards. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You are going to tell her you like her when you clear do more than like her,” Minho says, “you have to be honest with her. Don’t tell her you like her when you love her.”

“I don’t.”

“Huh?”

Hyunjin shrugs. “I don’t love her. It would be impossible for me to love her. I think she’s hot, I like spending time with her, and she’s my best friend. I like her.”

“If you’re going to confess to her like that, then she’s gonna be pretty hurt.”

“I’m not going to lie to her.” Hyunjin means what he says, but not in the way he says it. “I don’t love her. It would take me more time. I want her to know how I feel now, though. I like her. I want to confess that to her.”

Because you are his favourite song, after all. 

He wants everyone to know about it. He wanted everyone to see him sit you down at a table in a small cafe in town, hand you a bouquet of flowers that he picked out based on how pretty they were. He picked the yellow carnations over white, the snapdragons with their different buds of flowers, and orange roses that stood out in the store. 

He can’t help but smile when your hands are pulled over your mouth, nor encourage you to show him your pretty face so he could admire you, too. He knew people were watching, especially when you walked out with your hand in his for a reason other than desire. 

His honesty, however, didn’t go as far as telling you that the love he felt for you would change. 

Hyunjin can’t help but spend each day at your side. Exhausting you like a trust with a purpose, making sure you understood that he liked you, not loved you, but felt towards you he felt for no others. You were who he turned to in darkness, you were who brought sunshine to rainy days and warmth to the coldest nights. 

“I could stay here forever,” he’d whisper against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes with a smile. He’d push the hair back from your face, admiring you for a second longer. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

You smile and shake your head, returning his touches by running your thumb over his bottom lip. “Why would I leave you, Hyunjin?”

He can’t answer your question without a lecture, so he always chooses not to. He’d keep his thoughts to himself. Though everyone knew deep down that a guilty conscience would lead others to ask the questions they wanted answered for themselves. Why would he leave you?

Why wouldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he love you?

“Because you’re scared,” Minho says to Hyunjin, passing him a can of sprite across his kitchen table. The younger is pouting, unsure of what he’s supposed to do. “You can’t tell her the truth because you’re worried what she will say.”

Hyunjin hums. Maybe Minho is right. “I want to tell her, but every time I try to my body freezes and I can’t talk. It’s like something doesn’t want me to tell her.”

“Then don’t tell her yet,” Minho suggests. 

“Won’t that make things worse?”

Minho shrugs, his expertise ending. “You told me before you confessed to her that you didn’t want to lie to her, so you either do love her and you tell her, or you don’t love her and you don’t tell her. Whatever you do, there’s a reason you don’t do the opposite.”

“So I’m not just nervous?” Hyunjin asks. He looks down to the unopened text on his phone and signs. “You don’t think I love her?”

“I can’t tell you if you love her yet. You’ll know yourself when you do. Just be honest with her.”

Hyunjin isn’t lying when he tries to tell Minho that that is his problem, though Minho thinks he means the love part and goes on a rant about how everyone can love someone and time will show the true feelings behind everything. 

And Hyunjin does care about you deeply, that has never ever changed. 

Because you always like your favourite song. Once it’s been played over and over, and you don’t listen to it for a while, you go back to it and remember the vocals or musical quirks that attracted you to it in the first place. 

But once you’ve moved on, that feeling never comes back. 

His favourite song doesn’t change, he just stops listening to it after a while. He stops the admiration, the tune in his head when there’s radio silence, the thoughts of it when he closes his eyes. 

It’s no longer sweet to him, and he’s no longer a slave to the thought of it. Of you. 

And as he finds him walking out in the cold nights as he finds something else to occupy his mind, he realises that he could never appreciate you for who, for all you truly were.

It was never a case of would he love you. 

Hyunjin could love you. He could open his heart to someone and trust that they could do the same, yet he never had it in him to even approach the topic with a clear head. 

A walk down the path with the bitter wind rattling his bones, the light shining down on him as tears fell down his cheeks and froze the skin beneath, much like the ice that crunched under his feet with each step. 

You filled his world with the colours that radiated from you, painting the skies blue and orange; the days yellow and punk; the nights black and purple. You made him see what was beautiful, yet he could never have seen it the way you did.

You were a rainbow in the dull world he built around him, but he was colourblind.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Four:  I Quit!

ICYMI:  Chapter Three:  Abuela’s Food Truck

A/N:  Hi, friends!  Here we are.  Another day.  Another week.  Another chapter.  And this one is 100% turning point.  And it’s beautiful.  So, as always...Feedback is appreciated.  A like...A reblog.  Just a little something, something so I know this isn’t a waste of time?  Please?  K, bye! x

Later that night, it was that time again.  Time to walk into the fire.  We could manage.  If all else fails, I’m sure there’s a cool guy willing to buy us drinks again.  But since there’s money in our bank accounts again, we could probably stand to buy our own.  Regardless, it was yet another night at the salt mines.  And a little positivity could go a long way.  If we go into this pissed off and bitter, people are going to pick up on that.  And I don’t need to bring that kind of energy.  I didn’t hate all of the staff.  Most of them weren’t exactly on my good side, but not all of them were terrible.  

 Then, I got to my first table of the night.  And they weren’t assholes.  I’ll take that as a win.  My next table?  Not miserable.  Ok. Things are starting to look up. But then…Toward the end of my shift. There they were.  Again.  They came back.  And they were in my section.  Fan…fucking…Tastic.  Still, I slapped on that fake ass smile they wanted to see.  Because god forbid I come off like I’m pissed off to see them.  Of course not.  Of course I’m happy to see you.  Because you coming in here means I get paid.  That correlation fucking sucked.

 “Oh…” she got one look at me and instantly turned her nose up.  Awesome, “It’s you.”

 “It’s me,” I confirmed, “Welcome back, ma’am.  How may I help you?”

 “Can you find me a new waiter?” she scoffed, “One that’s a little more competent than you?”

 “I am competent, ma’am,” I kept my cool.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.  Don’t let her piss me off.

 “If last night was any evidence of that,” she rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t say so.  If you were in one of my restaurants, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

 “I’m sorry.” That you ever crawled out of the primordial ooze, “Now, other than a new waiter, how may I…?”

 “I want a new waiter.”

 Santa Maria, Madre de Dios.  Ruega por nosotros pecadores.  Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté.  Amén, “You were seated in my section, ma’am.  I’m sorry, but I can’t get you a new waiter.”

 “Then, we’re leaving.” Good fucking riddance.  She says she’s leaving, but she didn’t even move.  I wasn’t stopping her.  If that’s the case, then what the hell was she doing?  Other than terribly bluffing.

 Then, as if the night couldn’t have gone further downhill, my manager came over, “Is there a problem here?”

 “I want a new waiter,” the woman stood her ground, “I don’t care where I’m seated. I want a new waiter.”

 “Of course, ma’am.” Spineless prick, “Frankie, can I see you for a moment?”

 “Sure,” I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I followed him into the kitchen.  Oh, shit.  This can’t be good, “What’s up?”

 “This is the second night in a row I’ve gotten complaints about you.” Taking me over his knee in front of everyone would’ve been less demeaning, “And from the same person!”

 “She’s a prime example of the customer not always being right,” I bit the inside of my cheek in attempts to not blow right the fuck up about her.

 “That’s not part of our job, Frankie,” the manager scolded me, “Our job is to keep them happy and keep them coming back.”

 “It’s not part of our job to become their best friend,” I grumbled.  

 “If it was,” he went on, “I would’ve fired you by now.”

 “Look,” I swallowed my pride, “I need this job.  Don’t let this one customer be the deciding factor.”

 “You got one more chance, Frankie,” he sighed out, “If I hear one more peep out of that woman because of you, you’re on your ass.  I don’t care how bad you need this job.  I want you to buddy up to her like your life depends on it.  Because by the sounds of it, it does.”

 In that moment, I wasn’t sure what snapped in my brain, but when I opened my mouth again, what I intended to say was some sort of empty apology and to go back out there. However, that wasn’t the case, “I quit.”

 “What?”

 “I quit,” I spoke a little firmer.  That felt kind of good.  I untied my apron and dropped it in his hand, “I fucking quit.”

 “I thought you said you needed this job.”

 “I thought I did,” I beamed, “But I don’t.  It sounds like you need me more than I need you.  I fucking quit!  I don’t have to stay and deal with this bullshit anymore.  Fuck her.  Fuck you. Fuck everyone here I don’t share blood with.  Later, bitches!”

 And just like that, I walked out.  I was done. My last shift was over.  And I was done.  I had a feeling that if I were to come within a hundred feet of this place ever again, it’s going to be a police escort off the property.  I didn’t care anymore.  I was done.  I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore.  I was free.  When I slipped into the alley to wait for César and Tony to finish up for the night, I put a quarter in the payphone outside and pulled out that business card.

 “Hello?”

 “You gave me your number, Old Man,” I couldn’t wipe the fucking smile off my face if I wanted to, “The least I could do is call, so you’re not waiting for the phone to ring.”

 “Frankie!” he chimed on the other end.  Oh, that just put a good feeling back in my heart.  The only thing that would make it any better would be if Abuela’s truck came by. But this would do, “How you doing, kid?”

 “I’m in,” I told him, “I’m so fucking in.”

 The other end was quiet for a minute.  Ok…Good feeling slowly going away.  Say something, Old Man.  You told me to call you when I was ready.  Just fucking say something, “And your brothers?”

 “Not sure about them yet,” I admitted, “But I know I’m in.  And…Uh…Before I’m completely in…”

 “What is it, Frankie?” he worried, “Everything alright?”

 “Everything’s fine,” I wasn’t sure how true that statement was.  I did just quit my job.  Out of pure anger and a snap decision.  But I also had this in my back pocket, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

 “Can’t say I am,” the Old Man told me, “Why?”

 “My…” This was going to sound so stupid.  But whatever it takes, “My mother wants to have you over for dinner.”

 “That’s not a problem,” he allowed, “What time should I be there?”

 Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting that to go over so well, “Uh…Eight o’clock?”

 “I can do eight o’clock,” the Old Man confirmed, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

 “Ok,” I nodded, “See you tomorrow night.”

 Slowly, but surely, I hung up the phone.  What the fuck just happened?  Hold on, Frankie.  Back track here.  One minute, you were dealing with the woman with the stick in her ass.  She wanted a new waiter and you weren’t having it. Mostly just to piss her off because you’re occasionally petty.  Then, your manager pissed you off even more.  You quit your job because of you being pissed off.  You called the Old Man.  And…Now, you’re having dinner with him and Mama tomorrow night.  My head hurts.  I needed painkillers.  And a lot of them.  We’ll start with aspirin and work our way up to morphine.

 “Hey, Frankie?” César came out first, “You alright, hermanito?  You seem like you’re about to kill someone.  Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”

 “A little bit of both actually,” I sat on the back steps, “Watch your asses in there. I just quit.”

 “Are you serious?” he gasped, “Frankie, why would you do that?”

 “I wasn’t dealing with it anymore,” I did all I could to keep myself from crying, “Fuck this place, César.  I’d love nothing more than to watch it burn to the ground, but I don’t have to deal with it anymore.  It was either I quit or I get fired because of the same woman that was trying to get me fired last night.  And I’ll be damned if I let her get the satisfaction.  I called the Old Man.  Everything should be fine.  He’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

 “So Mama can meet him,” César figured, “Did you tell him you’d take the job?”

 “I don’t have much of a choice now,” I shrugged, “It’s either unemployment or employment.  I don’t know about you, but I got a good feeling about taking the job with the Old Man.”

 “We’ll see what Mama has to say about him.”

 “The hell are you two doing out here?” Tony joined us, throwing on his jacket.

 “Waiting on your slow ass to get out here,” I jabbed.

 “Are you alright, Frankie?” he wondered, “I heard people say you were blowing up on the manager and that you walked out.”

 “I quit,” I filled him in, “I got something better lined up anyway.”

 “The Old Man?”

 “Hope so.”

 Just like any other night, the three of us hopped the subway and headed home.  I’m not going to miss this.  Not in the least bit.  If the Old Man lets me work in the Narrows, I’d be spitting distance from home. No more subways.  No more buses.  No more public transit.  I wonder if the Old Man would let me take his town car every now and then.  That’d be pretty cool, too.  Now, I just needed to tell Mama we were having company tomorrow night.  

 “Mama?” I went in first and did a quick look around, “We’re home.  And on time.”

 “Welcome home, mijos,” Mama greeted us from the living room, “Cómo te fué en el trabajo?”

 “Long,” Tony threw himself into the armchair.

 “Tiring,” César took the other end of the couch.

 “It’s funny you ask, Mama,” I bit the inside of my cheek, “Do you remember me telling you about the man from the restaurant?  The one we had drinks with last night that wanted to help us?”

 “Si.”

 “I talked to him tonight,” I went on, “Is it alright that he’s coming for dinner tomorrow night?”

 “That’s fine,” she allowed, “I’m glad you took my advice, Francisco.  I’m glad one of you listen to me.”

 “We listen to you, too, Mama!” Tony whined.

 “Antonio,” Mama hushed him, “I know you do.  But sometimes, tu hermanito listens a little better.  Isn’t that right, mijo?”

 “I do what I can,” I kissed her cheek, “I’m going to head to bed, ok, Mama?”

 “Ok,” her hand immediately went to my forehead, “You’re not getting sick, are you, Francisco?”

 “I’m alright,” I assured her.  I knew better than to tell her not to worry.  She’d beat me senseless for saying something so stupid.  But I digress, “Good night.”

 “Good night…”

 Today really did kick my ass.  And it went by in a blur.  I still had a hard time believing I quit the restaurant.  I didn’t realize it’d be that easy.  Fortunately, I had something else lined up.  As long as Mama liked the Old Man, I’d be golden.  If she didn’t…Well…What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?  And as long as he came through on our deal.  Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough.  So, I shut my eyes and hoped for the best.

 The next morning, I got up bright and early.  I knew Mama would be up, too.  She didn’t have to work today, so we had all day to do as we pleased. Although, I knew I’d have to break the news that I don’t have a job anymore to her eventually today.  She’ll start to wonder why Tony and César are going to work, but I’m sticking around home.  There’s no way I took tonight off just because the Old Man was coming to dinner. She might kill me for it, but I’m sure the new job will be much better than the old one.

 I looked over at my brothers’ beds and sure enough, they were still sleeping like babies. Aww…Every part of me was wanting to wake their asses up, but they had a long shift to put in tonight without me. Instead, I covered them both up a little better and quietly closed the door on my way out.  And they seem to think I’m the one that needs to be looked after.  Sometimes, I do, but nine times out of ten, these two would both be dead without me. I seem to remember a time when I had to stop Tony from walking into oncoming traffic.  Regardless, I walked into the kitchen and found Mama already at the stove.  I love her.

 “Buenos dias, Mama,” I kissed her cheek and got the coffee pot going.  

 “Buenos dias,” she gasped, “You’re up early, Francisco.  I would’ve thought you’d sleep until at least noon.”

 “Guess I’m just up early,” I shrugged, peeking over her shoulder, “What do you have going on?”

 “You said we were expecting company tonight,” Mama reminded me, “I thought I’d get an early start.”

 “You wouldn’t want a little help, would you?” I offered.  It didn’t matter what age I was.  Cooking was one of those things that always came naturally to me. Why?  I don’t know.  But I didn’t care.  Because I could still cook like a dream.  That’s something that would never go away.  And Mama knew that.

 “I’d love a little help,” she allowed, “While you and your brothers were shopping yesterday, I should’ve had you get some rice.  We’re completely out.”

 “Really?” That never happened.  Ever.

 “Nothing,” Mama showed me the end of the big ass bag of rice.  With no rice in it.

 “I’ll go get you some, if you need it.”

 “No, no,” she stopped me, “I’ll go get.  You stay here and keep an eye on things.  Make sure nothing burns.”

 “Got it,” I let her go off to the store and stayed behind to watch all the pots boil. Oh, Mama…You overdid.  I mean, I understand you want to go all out with your cooking when we have people coming over, but you didn’t need to go this hard. Bless this woman.  May no misfortune ever befall her.

 By the looks of it, she’s got churro dough started.  Muy bien, Mama.  Muchas gracias.  I know what I’m having for breakfast.  All it needed was to be piped.  The oil was hot enough.  Why not? I scooped the dough into a piping bag and started squeezing the dough into the oil.  Sweet Jesus…There were few things as satisfying as the first churro in the oil.  And Mama’s churros rarely disappointed.  She had something secret in the dough and she’d take that secret to the grave with her. Even I didn’t know it and I knew all of Mama’s cooking tricks.  Her churro recipe, though?  Way too coveted.

 “Buenos dias, hermanito,” César stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep and admiring the small accumulation of churros cooling off to the side, “Hell yeah, Mama made churros.”

 Just as he went to reach for one, I immediately slapped the back of his hand, “No.”

 “Ow!” he nursed his hand, “What the fuck, Frankie?  You still have a whole fucking bag of dough yet.”

 “You know damn well Mama knows exactly how many this dough is going to make,” I shoved my finger in his face, “If one goes missing, she’s going to be pissed.  Do you want to throw off Mama’s rhythm?”

 “God no…”

 “Alright then,” I went back to making churros, “Besides, those are still probably pretty hot.  They just came out of the oil a couple minutes ago.”

 “Speaking of Mama,” César sat down at the kitchen table, “Where is she?  There’s no way in hell she’s still in bed.”

 “She had to make a grocery store run,” I told him, “Apparently, we were out of rice and no one knew it, so she went to get some.”

 “Oh, I can’t wait to come home from work tonight,” César swooned, “The best part about us having company.  Mama cooks. And cooks more than what the four of us could possibly eat.  We eat like kings for the next week.”

 “Or your lazy ass learns to cook,” I teased him a bit.

 “Why would I do that,” he retaliated, “when you’d do all the cooking for me anyway?”

 “Because you wouldn’t do it right,” I rolled my eyes.  Both Mama and I had a thing when it came to the kitchen.  No one dares use it other than us, “I wouldn’t trust you ten feet in front of a microwave, let alone actually attempt cooking.”

 “Thanks, Frankie,” César made his coffee, “Love you, too.”

 “If I didn’t love you,” I argued, “Would I be doing this?  Would I have beaten you for the sake of you not burning yourself on churros?”

 “Valid point,” he gave me an appreciative nod.

 “Good morning…” And there’s the other one.  I was wondering how long it would take them to wake up once Mama started cooking.

 “Morning, Tony,” I grabbed a cup for him from the cabinet and handed it off.

 “Bless you.”

 “I do what I can,” I went back to the churros on the stove.  Mama always said to keep cooking them until they float.  Then, take them out of the oil.

 Oh, tonight was going to be a night.  I could feel it already.  My bones wouldn’t lie to me.

[sunsetspidey]

room service ⎮s.m.

pairing: reader x shawn mendes

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

warnings: none? very slight awkwardness, i guess. some fluff haha

a/n: you all wanted part 2, so i delivered. hopefully the delivery isn’t as disappointing as i feel it is 

this is part 2 to hotel lobby

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (too) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair. 

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements. 

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer. 

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions. 

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door, your hand on the handle, when a knock echoed throughout the room. 

When you opened the door, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered. 

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room, a cart full of breakfast options your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger. 

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride. 

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you’re unlocking your phone and the next you’re about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realize that you had never gotten his number because you had been too afraid to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head. 

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces connected themselves automatically as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care. 

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?” 

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window. 

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Vivianana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator. 

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him. 

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar. 

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started. 

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn. 

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her. 

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.” 

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were slightly cocky, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement. 

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.” 

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you. 

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.” 

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters. 

“I see you didn’t put much thought into the name,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “Doesn’t really matter. I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long.” 

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier. 

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?” 

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself. 

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through. 

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can’t get you front row tickets 

it’s shawn btw

hello! if you made it this far, thank you! thank you for reading my crappy writing lol. please, don’t hesitate to leave any thoughts, comments, or concerns. i’d love to hear what you guys have to say ☺︎

there wasn’t much shawn in this (sorry) so i might write a third and final part,,, would anyone read it?

tags; @chillingbythesea @yourkidsfavbabysitter @feliciaceciliamariajacobsson

[skruffie]

in which I’m getting to know my brain better

I can’t really pinpoint a time when I started reading about ADHD and believed that maybe it was something that I had. I think it’s kind of been in the back of my head from when ADD was still a commonly-used term but then I would go “naaaah can’t be me, I’m just a lazy person!” I remember ages ago in high school I was at a friend’s house and watching their brothers and I thought “This is what actual ADHD looks like” so I guess that kind of pins it for me thinking about it as long ago as 15 years ago but I never gave it serious consideration until more recently.

(This is very, very long so I don’t blame you if you want to just skip it entirely)

Just last night I was talking to Zack and I was giggling and going “I still can’t believe I really didn’t see this before” and they were going “Really?”

Let’s think about this. As a kid I was always pretty sensitive and had weird... I used to call them compulsions but now I wonder if it was more impulsive behavior where I would hoard things like rocks and leaves or do dangerous shit without thinking about it (one memory comes to mind immediately when I noticed there was broken glass on the playground and I started meticulously picking it up as carefully as I could, and my teacher freaked out when she saw what I was doing. It unsettled my mom too, but me explaining that I didn’t want anyone to get hurt didn’t help put them at ease). I would be deeply sucked into my imagination at times, like... 

When I was a kid I always kind of pictured myself like everything that was happening was a movie. I don’t really mean this in a dissociative derealization kind of thing, but just imagining every second was a movie or a video game. Sometimes I still do this. I can’t really pinpoint if there were a lot of hyperactive symptoms other than countless times my mom told me to stop fiddling with my hands or string or whatever was within my grasp. I would always come home from school dirty with grass stains on my jeans and holes in my knees and rocks in my pockets, earning the title “skruffy ragamuffin” from my sister, but I just kind of figured that was part of being a kid. Looking at it NOW through this viewpoint gives me second thought though.

I picked up on physical activities rather quickly from a young age like dancing and karate--probably the physical movement was what I needed to help me focus--and I do things like pick at the skin around my thumbs, bite the inside of my cheeks (Didn’t realize this was a thing until I watched Hannah Hart describe it as part of her fidgeting and went “OH.”)

As I got older and after my sister died, see... I always viewed this time period in my life as I couldn’t do school or focus because of my grief and my home life falling apart, and I think part of that is still true. However, I would continue this with “And because of that I didn’t form good study habits and that continued into highschool when I stopped giving a shit”. Which was better than thinking I was just a stupid failure, and I really don’t think I am stupid... I can think quickly on my feet, I notice things that other people don’t, I’ve been an advanced reader from a VERY early age and I can infer correct answers from context clues and analyze things in that way. 

There is one memory from high school that, in the past, I thought maybe was tied to an emotional flashback but I realize now that it might’ve been Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. There was a weird disagreement that I was having with a friend of mine over something (truly can’t remember what it was about now), and somehow this rejection of him not listening to me spiraled me into this state of Why Should I Fucking Bother and the first target for this heavy, painful feeling was “okay, well I should just stop drawing because Why Should I Fucking Bother”. My English teacher found me sitting in the hallway crying and sat down with me to ask what was happening and I tried to explain, and then he had me show him my artwork and he goes “You are an incredible artist, you shouldn’t give this up.” One of few teachers in my life who I will always respect because he was always stern in a kind way, understanding, and an overall wonderful man.

I’m kind of getting off track here but I think that’s really just self-demonstrating at this point.

When I worked at Target there wasn’t really an opportunity for the ADHD type symptoms to manifest because I was pretty much always moving. In school I could zone out very easily but at work I was able to have more bouts of focus, but traded off my inattention for anxiety instead. This was also just a few years after the big PTSD causing event, but retail in general can give pretty much anyone some anxiety issues. Nonetheless, the things that I enjoyed about working there is that I was able to master my work zone completely (to a point of annotating the training guide with new information and keeping it updated), became the go-to person for several things, and I enjoyed being able to have a bit of freedom of movement around my work space. I enjoyed being able to have physical, tangible ways to see progress being made on something and there was a surprising amount of nuance and problem-solving when it came to resolving customer complaints. 

Moving to a desk job in 2018 was a weird departure from all of that. I had started off kind of as a clerical worker and would compile the concrete goods vouchers that we send out to our clients, receive them back, prepare them for scanning, scan+upload to case files, etc. It was dreadfully boring a lot of the time but I didn’t mind the long stretches where I could sit and prepare documents for scanning because I was able to listen to music while I got them ready. After a while I was encouraged to become a fiduciary, and that is really when the Maybe I Have ADHD started to rear it’s head.

My job doesn’t have the tangible way to see that I’ve made progress. I update placements to generate foster care payments, I generate the vouchers for concrete goods, I put in ongoing foster care case management payments or daycare payments, I will sometimes resolve some payment issues but only to a certain point--I’m able to see information but being able to solve the problem is actually not my area unless I can correct it within the case management system. There is an extreme need to be detail oriented because we work with specific service dates, with some services ongoing but some needing to be renewed every six months, gobs of emails with paperwork and trying to get the right signatures on everything because we’re dealing in state money...

on top of this, in order to move into the permanent position, I’ve been taking the accounting classes online outside of work and (until the pandemic started) having a long commute-work-commute day that totaled about 12 hours out of my waking life. My diet changed radically because Zack and I didn’t see each other often and getting home at 6:30 at night didn’t leave a lot of room to cook and then eat before having downtime to sleep... only to wake up at 5:30 AM again... my insomnia started kicking in to a point now where I take a benadryl through the work week to keep my sleep schedule on track. I started having anxiety attacks at work because trying to keep up with remembering all the little details I need to at work was getting to me. 

As I was training, I would write a post-it reminder whenever I repeated a mistake and stick it to my monitor. I got up to about 14 post-its before it became distracting and I instead compiled them onto a list and tacked it to my cubicle wall.

A few months into this I had a crying jag talking to Zack because it felt like something was really wrong and I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. Depression? Anxiety? Trauma? School trauma? I think it’s just been untreated ADHD this whole time. I keep thinking back to this post I’ve seen on Tumblr a long time ago where someone said “disability exists in the context of the environment” and I think that’s what’s happening to me. I previously have bee in environments that weren’t butting up against The ADHD as much, but this job has been extremely challenging for the past 11 months. 

Thankfully, my boss and I have one-on-one discussions regularly (used to be every other week but since the pandemic started it’s been weekly phone calls) and she has no issues with my work performance... likely because I exert a lot of mental and emotional energy to keep up with everything I need to do. I’m also in charge of the busiest field office in our region--there’s a high turnover rate, lots of child welfare cases, etc--and the social workers that I talk to on the regular enjoy having me as their fiduciary. There have been many times however, despite the fact I seem to be doing pretty good, where it feels like I am hanging on by a fucking thread. Here’s something personal that I don’t think I’ve shared yet on the blog: last year, within the first month and a half of adjusting to this new pace of work and school and the long commutes, the schedule was so stressful for me that it made my period late. Worrying I was pregnant just stressed me out more. Not being able to treat this Probably ADHD has been detrimental to my mental health.

On the 22nd, I’m going to have a telehealth meeting with a doctor to see if I can get a referral for a screening. I kind of worried that if I do get diagnosed with ADHD it would send me into this mourning state of what-could-have-been but honestly... I’m tired. I’m tired of beating myself up for exhausting myself into keeping up with other people. I think I owe it to myself to get the help that I need. Looking at my life with the lens of I Probably Have ADHD has actually given me a renewed sense of self-worth and confidence because it’s something that I can learn how to take control of. It’s worth it. I’m worth it.

[buttdawg]

I'm still pissed about Jim Cornette, so I guess I'll write about it here.

I listened to his podcast yesterday to see if there would be any contrition over his Ethiopia joke, and there really wasn't. The closest he got was to express regret for distracting attention away from NWA, which he seems to sincerrly wish to support. Then he offered this conditional apology based on how people reacted to what he said:

1) If you disliked his joke and thought it was in poor taste, he apologizes for what he said.

2) If you're Black and found it offensive, he didn't intend for it to be racist.

3) If you're outraged by what he said, beyond what he thinks is reasonable for a situation like this, then you can fuck off, because he never cared what you think of him anyway.

That's just bullshit, and I'm gonna tell you why. In the same podcast, he admits that he has anger management issues. He's gone on record as saying that if there was a way to do it legally, he would murder Vince Russo in cold blood. He carries a lifelong grudge against Kenny Omega because he wrestled an inflatable doll in Japan several years ago. And yet this guy has the temerity to complain when he thinks people are overreacting to him. "Whoa, whoa, come on, people, it was just a joke. Why are you so bent out of shape over this?" Well the blow up doll was a joke too, but you still want Kenny Omega run out of the wrestling business for it.

I've been listening to a few Cornette podcasts since AEW started, mostly because they were free on YouTube, and because Corny's a lot easier to listen to than the schmucks at Wrestling Observer. I found a lot of his hatred towards AEW unfair, but occasionally he made some valid points. Like the Cody/Dustin vs Young Bucks match going too long. He said it felt like they did three shorter matches in one, and the first leg was the best of the three, so they would have been smarter to wrap it up early and end on a high note. When he said that, I was like "Hey yeah," because I felt the same way but I couldn't put it into words at the time.

But mostly he just hates AEW for the unforgivable crime of existing in spite of his complaints. He respects and likes maybe a third of its talent, but he can't seem to fathom why those guys put up with the two-thirds that he hates. Maybe it's because guys like Cody and Jericho and Hangman Page are smart enough to understand that they're good for business, even if they have different styles in the ring. Cornette's problem is that he's too brittle.

That, and he's a hypocrite. He keeps ragging on wrestlers for exposing the business and not looking enough like real athletes. He craps on guys like Joey Janela for not looking muscular enough, sort of like how he crapped on Kevin Steen before he went to WWE and became a multi-time champion. I'm sure Joey's terrified of suffering the same fate. One of Cornette's talking points is how they don't just sign anyone for the NBA, and they don't just bring fans in to play the Super Bowl because they want to. But that's stupid. Joey and Marko Stunt got signed to AEW. They're legit members of the roster, and they're over. The only downside to these guys is that they don't look like football players, except nobody cares about that, so it isn't a problem at all.

Cornette gripes and gripes about professionalism in wrestling, and how there's no room for cheap gimmicks or bad comedy, except his entire decades-long career in wrestling has been spent acting as an insult comic with a loud suit and a tennis racket. He's probably mad at Kenny Omega for wrestling the blow-up doll because he kind of looks like a blow-up doll, so maybe he took it personally. He cries about kayfabe and protecting the business at all costs, and then he uses every opportunity he has to bury wrestlers and air all the dirty laundry from backstage. Every episode of NWA Powerrr had at least one instance of him bashing AEW as "cosplay" wrestling, which doesn't help anybody. If you don't watch AEW, you wouldn't know what he's talking about, and if you watch NWA and AEW, then he's insulting your taste. It's bad announcing, pure and simple. He's only out there to push his own agenda, not the wrestlers.

I can give him a modicum of respect for resigning from NWA. According to his podcast, he only worked for them to help support their product, because he believes so much in what they're doing. But it's become clear that the controversey he generates is distracting the public from NWA's brand. I read a tweet from Nick Aldis this week where he was very diplomatic and expressed great regret for what Cornette had said. He said it didn't represent what he wanted NWA to be. I like Nick Aldis, because I can tell that he's trying as hard as he can to carry himself like the "Real World's Chamion" in the tradition of Ric Flair and Harley Race. I don't know if he's succeeding or not, but I respect the effort he's putting in, because he wants to make NWA special and he wants to be a champion in a way that Chris Jericho and Brock Lesnar and Bray Wyatt aren't. But as long as Cornette was associated with the brand, his efforts would always be undercut by whatever whackamaroo nonsense he says next.

So maybe Cornette had that in mind when he quit, but from his podcast, I got the sense that it's not like he needed the job, and it wasn't fun anymore, and he was getting fed up with the PR headaches. That explains why he was so flippant on NWA Powerrr. He was showing up to have fun and relive the old days. Nick Aldis ain't there to screw around. He's trying to build a better career for himself and his co-workers.

And it's that flippancy that pisses me off. Cornette stopped giving a fuck years ago, I guess because he's got a successful business selling merch and dvds of old matches and public appearances and such. He doesn't need to "protect the business" anymore because he's got his own business separate from any promotion. His gigs with MLW and NWA are a way for him to promote his stuff, so if he says something shitty on their air, it just drives up hits on his website. That's the worst possible scenario for a color commentator. Cornette cries foul because Excalibur wears a mask on AEW Dynamite, but at least Ex is concentrating on making AEW talent look good. He's not telling racist jokes to fill dead air, or to get more eyeballs on his website.

It's impossible for me to express how stupid that Ethiopia joke was. The racism was so obvious that it makes all the defenses of it especially flimsy. Cornette insists he was mocking starving people, like that makes it okay. He told the story of how he invented the joke and Ray Traylor thought it was hilarious in 1985, and TBS and USA never got in trouble for it, so that somehow makes it okay forever. Cornette's fans talk about how they think the joke's okay, simply because they thought it was funny, like that makes a bit of difference in a PR situation like this.

Then you see people cry about how "sensitive" everyone is these days. Like, no shit, that's how public relations works. If your business does something offensive enough, it hurts your brand and your business suffers. So you have to be mindful of people's sensitivity. Complaining about it is useless. That'd be like going on Twitter after the Notre Dame fire and saying "Wood sure is flammable these days." Well how does that solve anything, dumbass?

It's all a bunch of bullshit. Cornette's using thirty-year old jokes because a dead guy laughed at it once and he's too arrogant to re-evaluate it for the present day. He's mad at wrestling fans for objecting to his behavior, except they're the customers, for fuck's sake. I've never seen anyone so obsessed with protecting the business and simultaneously so insulting towards the people who pay for the product. He hates AEW because he doesn't approve of their methods. Except they do good business and can sell out buildings pretty regularly. There's clearly an audience for how AEW does things. You tell him that, and he'll respond that their audience doesn't count, because they're all 30 or 40 something single men who are probably virgins or they're lose interest when the next fad comes along. So it's not enough to sell out a venue, you have to get x percent old people and y percent women and z percent children, or whatever they used to draw in Mid South in 1987. Dave Meltzer likes AEW, so Cornette now thinks he's an idiot too, even though he's been covering wrestling for decades. He's trapped himself in this binary mindset where the only real wrestling fans are the ones who agree with him and approve of his dated jokes and out-of touch worldview. Everyone else deserves to be shot.

That's why NWA is better off without Cornette. They may not realize it, but he was never on their side, not really. Sooner or later they would have offended his rigid, inflexible sense of What Wrestling Should Be, and he'd turn on them too. At least this way, it's a clean break, and they don't have him talking about fried chicken during Nick Aldis matches or how Trevor Murdoch's beer gut is somehow more athletic than Kenny Omega in a Street Fighter costume.

[azrielsiphons]

Feysand Vigilante AU

Nobody asked for this (just kidding three people did and that’s all it takes for me) but here it is:

The Feysand Vigilante AU one-shot with angst and ... yeah that’s about it, just angst. Enjoy! 

~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre tried not to cry out as the thug with the mustache whose name she didn’t remember made contact with her already cracked ribs. Tried and failed, but tried all the same. 

Trying is what matters, her father used to say to her and her sisters. Fail as many times as you have to. But don’t you ever stop trying. 

“Try ’til you die,” she muttered under her breath as she staggered backwards against the wall. 

“What was that?” Mr. Mustache Thug asked in his thick Italian accent. 

Feyre chuckled lowly, spitting red at his feet. A dark smile she could hardly recognize herself spread out across her face. It sent a thrill through her that Mustache Thug looked thoroughly disturbed at the sight of her bloodied teeth, wild smile, and masked face. 

“I said it’s time for you to shut up and die.”

“I thought you were one of the ones that doesn’t kill.”

Feyre laughed once again as she stood to her full height, willing away the pain in her ribs, jaw, and left shoulder. Pain didn’t last, and none of her injuries were fatal.

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” she answered, throwing herself into the air and swinging a hard right hook right at the thug’s stupid mustache. 

~~~~

Feyre reminded herself to tip Amren especially well that night as she shrugged off her bloodied black and gray suit in the bathroom. She carefully stood on the toilet seat, wincing as she reached up to push a ceiling tile to the side and grab her bag of spare, clean clothes. 

She traded out the clothes, using toilet paper to wipe off the barely dried blood on her face and hands. There was a reason she kept her nails painted red. 

It wasn’t the safest setup, and certainly not the most efficient, but it had to do. There wasn’t exactly a how-to-become-a-vigilante self-help book in the public library, and Amren was good people. 

Well, as good as one could be when they were actively aiding criminals. The good kind of criminals, but… still criminals. 

Shouldering her bag to take home and restock, Feyre did one last look around for blood she may have missed cleaning up before exiting the stall. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and winced. The bruise on her jaw had yet to stop turning deeper purple, and her busted lip from two nights prior had reopened. 

Not to mention, mask hair was way worse than hat hair. 

One messy ponytail and a splashed face later, Feyre finally unlocked the bathroom door and exited, ignoring the glares and complaints of the three women waiting outside. 

“Dare I ask?” Amren asked dryly as Feyre took her usual corner spot at the bar, trying not to wince. 

Trying and failing, but trying all the same. That was the story of Feyre’s life. 

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” she replied. 

Amren said nothing, glancing at Faye’s jaw briefly before reaching under the counter for a towel that she then filled with ice cubes. Feyre accepted it with a barely audible thanks. 

“Whiskey or vodka?”

“Are drinks on you tonight?”

If looks could kill, Amren would be the number one most wanted homicide suspect in the whole city. 

“You come into my bar every night after kicking butt all over town, bloody up my bathrooms, take my ice—”

“You offered it willingly.”

“—and expect the drinks to be on me?” Amren demanded, eyes wide. Feyre met her gaze evenly, poking out her busted bottom lip. “Just because that works on Rhys doesn’t mean it works on me. Drinks are on you until you develop a sense of self-preservation.”

“So… drinks are on me forever then?” Feyre asked, making Amren curse under her breath as she poured the drink. “Where is Rhys, by the way?”

She tried to make the question casual, but Amren’s knowing look told her she failed. 

“Oh you mean the other equally danger-prone idiot who also likes to run around in spandex?”

“It’s not spandex, Amren.” 

Feyre jumped at the rumble of Rhys’s voice as he seemed to appear out of nowhere. She then couldn’t help but groan and clutch her side as she disturbed her ribs. Rhys cast her a wary look but said nothing as he sat down on the empty stool next to her. His own face slightly matched her own, though the spreading purple bruise was under his eye and not on his jaw. 

“My suit is one-hundred percent cotton, because this is the twenty-first century and also not a comic book. Can I have a beer?” 

Amren muttered a couple expletives under her breath, but crossed the bar all the same to serve two other customers and get Rhys a beer. 

When she was gone, Rhys turned to get a better look at Feyre. She elected to keep her eyes down on her now empty glass. He was silent for a few seconds. 

“You okay?”

Feyre chuckled wryly. “Depends on today’s definition of okay.”

“Anything broken?”

“On them, not me. Just some cracked ribs for the time being.”

“Any of them dead?”

Feyre hesitated. “No. No, not tonight.”

Rhys inhaled deeply, nodding his head as he reached over the counter for another bottle. They were silent as he poured her another shot. 

“You’re paying for that!” Amren shouted across the bar as she simultaneously slid a bottle down Rhys’s way. He caught it without looking. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he muttered. He popped the top of his own drink on the edge of the counter in a single smooth motion. 

“What about you?” Feyre asked, finally finding her voice. She downed the glass in one-go, annoyed with how dry her mouth suddenly felt. “How’d it go?”

“Well I’ve got another headache and our boys in blue will have a surprise waiting for them waiting down at the docks. Tied up with a bow and everything.”

Feyre chuckled, trailing her finger around the rim of the glass. “How considerate of you.”

“Yeah well,” Rhys shrugged and took a long pull from his drink, “I’m a nice guy.”

“What was going on at the docks?”

“Drugs. Mainly heroin, they’re going after high school kids with the stuff. Where were you?”

“Over at the construction site near 45th. A group of sorority girls caught up with me, told me they were being blackmailed with pictures. I thought it was just some punk frat boys, but turns out it was none other than our friends the Italians.”

Rhys inhaled sharply. “Shit, Feyre. What did they want with the college girls?”

“Access into the Dean of Finance’s office. He’d worked with them before apparently and had some dirt they were afraid of being leaked. Embezzlement and the like.”

Feyre finally mustered the courage to glance over at Rhys. He was staring at her intensely with that worried look that never left his face when they talked work. She rolled her eyes and went back to scratching the bar surface with her nails, chipping away the red polish in the process. 

“It happens, Rhys, relax. Not to mention I took care of it just fine on my own.”

“You should have called me.”

“And played a part in some high school football players starting to deal heroin in a couple weeks? No thanks.”

“I can multitask.”

“Not in this line of work, you can’t.”

Rhys huffed, turning forward and taking another drink. Feyre could tell that there was more he wanted to say, but thankfully he remained silent. She didn’t think she could handle anymore of his second-hand guilt. 

She was just getting ready to leave when he spoke up again.

“We started this thing together,” he murmured. So much for no more guilt. “What happened?”

“You know what happened.” Feyre didn’t mean for her voice to come out so sharply, but it did all the same. “You knew where the line was and you jumped it anyway. And you made me a part of it.”

“There was no other way and you know it.”

“There is always another way.”

“He would have killed you if I let him get away.”

“Then you should have let me die.”

The words were out before she even consciously thought them. Rhys stared at her, shock written all over his stupidly perfect face. She forced herself to meet his gaze, finding it more difficult with each passing second. 

“We drew a line, Rhys,” she whispered, mentally cursing herself when her voice wobbled. “We drew a line and you basically pole vaulted it. Our job is to protect people, to fight for those that can’t fight for themselves. You and I, we can fight for ourselves. And you went after Tamlin anyways, without even telling me.”

“I couldn’t tell you because—”

Rhys froze, his mouth hanging open with words he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

“That’s what I thought,” Feyre murmured, standing to her feet and shouldering her bag. “Just like always, you’re still keeping secrets from me. Goodnight, Rhys.”

“Wait.” Rhys grabbed Feyre’s wrist with such gentleness she wanted to cry. She froze, eyes shut as she savored the familiarity of his touch for that brief moment. “There is so much I want to tell you. About that night, about what happened with Tamlin.”

“Then tell me.” Feyre met his eyes — those stunning blue eyes, so recognizable that he had to wear purple contacts when he was on the job. “Just spit it out Rhys, because it seems to me that you went out that night with all intents and purposes to kill Tamlin without saying a word to me about it. That wasn’t defending me, that was disrespecting me.”

“Disrespect?” Rhys snapped, dropping her wrist and standing to his feet as well. “You’re calling me disrespectful when you were with that prick for years and he didn’t so much as give one fuck about your feelings or well-being? He practically threw you to the wolves Feyre! He let your sisters be kidnapped!”

“He didn’t let—”

“Yes he did!” Rhys shouted, garnering plenty of attention from the other bar-goers. “He let them be taken just like he let you wither away. It was me that helped you get out of that hellhole he trapped you in.”

“I know that!” Feyre screamed right back, her face heating with pent up rage.

“Simmer down, guys,” they heard Amren murmur behind them, but they paid her no mind. 

“I know that I have you to thank, I know that!” Feyre shouted. “Tamlin was an asshole but you killed him, Rhys, you killed him!” Her breathing was uneven, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried and failed to look away from his stupidly perfect face, bruises and all. “You killed him, and not only that, but you made me a part of it. That’s on my conscious now, Rhys. Mine. So quite frankly, I don’t care if we started this gig together. We’re separate now. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

With that, Feyre reached around him and slammed a ten dollar bill on the bar in front of Amren, who was watching them with a hint of sympathy in those secretive eyes of hers.

“Feyre please—”

“Don’t touch me.” Feyre dodged out of reach as she marched out of the bar. 

“There’s still more to the story!”

She made sure the door slammed on her way out. 

[chipswithfanfics]

❝ The Castle on the Sea ❞ Hongbin

Genre: fluff, slight angst, fantasy, wizard + studioghibli!au Pairing: Hongbin x Reader Summary: “And if you dive deep enough into the sea, you will find, among bubbles and fish, a submerged castle where a prince lives without a kingdom.” Word count: 14k this is… huge

Request: (Please mention me as @heart-baek-bleed so that I won't get lost because I want to make sure that is really me) Since you love Ghibi movies, how about a Howls Moving Castle AU with Hongbin? ~ Queennie

A/N: i'm inactive for a while, sorry, but I'm doing my best! and i'll be putting all the requests in order… so this one in particular has yielded a lot, i hope it is not very massive, because i really enjoyed writing this plot (and omg!!!!, Hongbin in this plot fit so well, jesus have mercy on me)... and: some of Reader's lines will be in italics, well, enjoy! 

The City of Lanterns is always shrouded in half darkness, since the gray clouds are always covering the sky completely, be it at night or in the mornings, while the birds sing happily.

And for this reason, the lanterns float on the water, following the flow of rivers that cut the streets, which are presented and joined by small bridges. At one time or another, during the day, the sky perhaps opens a little, letting a few sunbeams pass.

But even with the gray sky, it is rare to rain. And the citizens of the City of Lanterns often believe that when the sky finally cries, it's because something incredible will happen: a miracle! Some say.

Or a terrible disaster... and a few others say, on the other hand.

But it does not matter, does it matter? Because on this day, very early in the morning, the gray clouds that completely cover the sky, are crying. Well, just the day you got so many deliveries to make.

Through the streets, cats seek shelter, and you hurry, holding a small umbrella that does not seem to solve much. Your dress is soaking wet! As you fight and grumble to try to keep the warm breads intact from the rain.

"Mr. Biggam!" You exclaim as you knock on the third door of the day, climbing the only steps that separate the small house from the almost flooded street, the lanterns just behind illuminate the gray day as they float and float.

"Well, young lady..." The gentleman who answers the door scrubs his hands. "My belly was already snoring!"

You smile kindly, kindly in part, because you do not deliver the breads.

"You still owe us the loaves of two days, Mr. Biggam." Because, well, you have a tremendous sharp tongue.

The man open his eyes, and raise the eyebrows.

"But, miss Y/n." He hesitates over lips, still rubbing his hands, his mustache stirring as he tries to find the words. "Money is difficult, and God knows that war has taken all from us..."

"And the same goes for us, sir." You nod, still keeping the loaves away from the old man's hands. "War is cold, so it requires us to be equally cold."

Well, everyone says, what an insolent girl is the daughter of the baker of merchants' alley!

"You can not let a poor lord die of hunger." He rebukes, and you go down both steps, untouched by the words, much less by the desolate expression: you are already accustomed.

"So as soon as you pay for your loaves, you'll have a full belly and a silly smile on your mouth. Mr Biggam? Have a good time."

And that's how you walk away. Because yes, you're a tremendous one of an insolent girl with a sharp tongue.

And from the nearest alley a little black kitten purrs to you as you hurry your feets. You look at the little animal, going back a few steps, but that's all, a simple street cat...

"I'm sorry, kitten, but these breads are not for you," you says when hears a tearful meow, sticking the tongue out for the little animal.

Soon, you're back in the rush through town. Knocking from door to door, of the customers from the bakery shop, which is just at the end of the fishermen's alley. Charging those who owe, and handing over the loaves to the good customers.

After all, if it is to live of goodwill, you and your parents will starve to death! As you say to yourself, to the aunt and to the mother who are always complaining about your sharp tongue and cheeky personality.

The rain thickens in the morning, when you have almost passed the great bulletin board and advertisements of the city, which is right in the center of the square, you almost passed by; because you hurry back. There is a great warning nailed right in the center of the picture, the edges woven in gold, as well as the letters; the great Royal Prom was closer to happening than you imagined!

A radiant smile takes over your face. You want and wait for this night so much: because you imagine the beautiful dress that will wear, the beautiful mask that will order from the best jeweler in the city, and the shoes, oh yes, the shoes!

So, your face is taken by a flyer that drift through the rain, completely soaked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, pulling the wet paper from your face, now equally soaked.

What you see, written in the flying pamphlet, is nothing more than written in ill-made letters: "Frogs in your tubs? Pest of singers-mosquitoes on your plantations? Or something else... I will solve all your problems!" You recite, with eyes half closed, the letters are terrible.

"Meet me at the singing alley, in the City at the Cradle of the Sea.

The Great Blue Wizard. "

The breath blows out of your lungs, because there is an unconvincing drawing at the end of the words, of a large, rough crown, and this is what you repeat when you let the panflet take its turn in the strong wind of the rain:

"Extremely suspicious."

After all, who could entrust their bathtubs or plantations to a wizard?! And you already heard about the guy, who does not have a name, who does not have a face, actually has several of them but nobody knows for sure which one is the real one.

A man or a woman? Old or young? Where did he or she come from? Do she or he take the name Sebastian, Margo, Estephan or...?

Nobody knows.

But for you it does not matter, there are no coaching frogs in your tub, and you do not even have a plantation of aquatic tomatoes —and thanks to the skies they're scarce this summer because you hate them—what you have is a pile of breads to be delivered on a rainy morning in the City of Lanterns, an umbrella that looks like it will dismount any minute and a dream of finding your prince at the royal ball that will happen within a month.

And oh, of course, you also have the beautiful view of the sea, which plunges the horizon straight ahead into serene turquoise and navy blue colors.

But what happens, minutes after you try to continue your deliveries, is simply that your umbrella really comes undone: and as the people of the City of the Lanterns already said, a weeping sky can mean a day of disasters.

The door bell sings as you enter, the dress completely soaked as well as the remaining breads in your basket, the umbrella is completely crushed, bursting and dead.

"What are these leftovers?" Your mother asked as she placed her eyes on the basket that was placed on the counter.

"Mr. Biggam refuses to pay, Mama." You answer, walking up the stairs, the smell of sweetbreads with cranberry jelly filling your nose as your father finds himself exiting the kitchen, rubbing his hands. "Good morning, papa."

"Good morning, my dear," he replied, not having time to say much more, for you climbed the stairs with a leap worthy of the most agile cat; you get rid of the clothes with extreme rapidity, in the room the birds sing at the foot of your window, seeking shelter from the rain, and your clean clothes are warm.

You descend with the same rapidity that has risen, but there is, still, your mother with the expression in concern.

"Leave the loaves in the door of Mr. Biggam's house, my dear." She says, new loaves replacing those once soaked.

Freezing right there, you close the expression, already knowing where your sweet and innocent mother wants to reach.

"He will not pay if we continues to leave the buns at his door, mama!" The voice came out loud and well expressed from your mouth, hitting a few light slaps on your newly fitted dress to remove the dust.

The house is in a precarious state of cleanliness, there is no money to pay a maid, much less disposition and energy to clean everything with the required attention, the bakery is almost in the same deplorable state.

The money is short. He had always been.

"Money is the least concern, daughter." Your mother still insists, and then you could not be more dazed: she was about to start with this story of empathy for others again.

"Mama, but I need the money!" You twist the words, the discussion begins like this, it always begins. "The ball will soon happen!"

"And who told you that you're going to this... Thing?" But it's your father, who comes out of the kitchen again with a fresh ream of breads with jelly marmalade, who puts everything to lose on your head. "We need people up early to deliver the loaves."

"You are two tremendous stupid!" That's what you scream, opening your mouth wide, expecting your parents to listen well, extremely well when you hit your feet hard on the floor, the bell at the door tinkles and, rain out, you walk away.

"Cheeky girl!" That's what you hear, already outside, but too late, your father can not reach you.

The drops of water fell one by one from the rooftops, the last tears of rain, and you shrank from behind a few barrels, the alley was cold, but still covered enough by the rest of the roofs to keep you out of the rain that already passed.

It was foolishness, of course, since your dress was soaked again. You would quietly mutter all sorts of complaints against the projected images of your parents. Ah, yes, you would not go to the ball that you expected so much just because of the damn deliveries that in the end would not even yield enough money if your mother were still so foolish.

A selfish tear ran down your left cheek, and as you took a breath of icy air, you heard the noise echoing down the darker side of the alley. A dark stranger took the farthest walls, a dark that was not commonplace even in the city where it was always cloudy.

You get up with a spasm, but see, it's just a cat that emerge from the dark, with black fur and a sharp meow, it's the same little friend from early in the morning, the paws echo in the alley and you sigh relieved, again shrinking against the corner of the wall.

When then, you come across with this figure that came out of nowhere, the smoke engulfs the alley, running down the floors, between the parallelepipedos, and you want to get up: but can not, and there is a tall womam covered in a huge black cloak in feathers, approaching. And you are still sitting on the floor.

"Look, little girl, why are you crying?" The voice is babbling, and the cat is curling up between the feathers of the huge cloak that falls to the ground, like black mud of some swamp.

"Nothing of much interest, ma'am." You press your back against the wall; there is no fear, but there is the surprise.

And the mysterious woman approaches, lowering herself with difficulty, there is too much height for a normal human being, the hand that comes out of the dense mantle is wrinkled, flaccid. And you realize, as you see the hand approaching your forehead.

"That you learn to be who you ought to be, and that you unlearn what you should never have been."

This is a witch! And when the finger touches your forehead with a coarse, pointed nail, the waves take your body. You try to scream. It's like having your soul swallowed and crushed, cut in half, because something is taken from you, and it's something that's now in the Witch's hand in black feathers.

"Now, go child, seek what must be undone."

With a simple step, a crack, she disappears, the smoke, the rain, but not the cat. The cat is there, facing you, with a long meow and seems to smile, audaciously smiling as soon as your eyes widen. You look at your own hands, feel the wave revert in the body, what is hot becomes so cold and your throat...

God, your throat...

It's choking, no, no...

The clothes are enlarging, no, no, it's the hands! Your hands, by the Gods! Are decreasing...

You're shrinking, your clothes getting loose and... You want to scream, and nothing comes out, when you run away, the shoes are left behind, the cat releases a meow; it sounds like a muffled laugh, a laugh from one who had one last chance early in the morning.

You run and want to scream, nothing ever comes out of your throat, and with each passing in your rush, it becomes more scrubby, shorter, your dress too big on the body and your hands too small to lift it, to pull it from the path of bare feet.

God, what the bloody witch did to you?!

The doorbell tinkles with force, and into the bakery you run. "Mama!" You call but the words stay in your head only, they stay in the air, because as soon as you enter, you face your mother's huge eye .

"Who are you?!" she exclaims, as loud and audible as the breaking of your chest sounds in your heart.

She can not recognize you. She can not recognize her own daughter! And you wanna talk: this is the witchcraft of a damn witch, Mama, do not let her fool you! But it's the cold of the street what you find, "Get out of here, filthy child, you're messing everything up!" And the one who should be called your father throws you out the door.

And blam! the door closes.

The birds sing, and the lanterns continues flowing down the river. There is no more rain, but there is a huge puddle of water right on your left side, just as you can see your face perfectly, or what your twelve-year-old face should look like.

Ah yes, as they say, rainy days in the City of Lanterns can very much mean a day of complete disaster.

You did not shrink, you were a child again.

And the worst of the worst cases. You can not scream. For what the witch took from you was nothing more than your voice.

A twelve-year-old child with no voice! What cruel fate for an insolent girl...

But see, for all problems there is a solution, because the wind bring this pamphlet straight to your face, as if the fate laughs of your cruel—or not so much—acts. Pulling the paper still soaked from your face, with mild nostalgia, you again see the letters now even more crooked because of the water.

"Meet me at the singing alley, in the City at the Cradle of the Sea.

The Great Blue Wizard."

Now, you really have frogs in your tub. And so begins your adventure...

The winds coming from the north comb the hair strands, and you hold tight the hat—which silently you stole from the neighbor's clothesline, after all, you have your reasons, right? The ribbon that should have been holding the strands of hair in place is holding the dress tied with a huge, clumsy knot.

It had been all you could do through the rest of the day.

And the smell of the sea comes in through your nose as you breathe deeply, throwing a few coins into the sailor's hands.

Right in front, when you finally stop to observe, you hold your breath with your lips opening unnoticed: the view of the city of Altha—the city on the edge of the blue sea—is stupendous, there is no gray cloud in the sky, that opens in the liveliest blue, houses are innumerable, streets fill in life, merchants, children wandering with smiles, even ladies with their huge baskets. And still from the harbor, where the song of the gulls is incessant, it is already possible to see the great and exuberant figure of the royal castle, standing right in the center of the city.

It looks like a dream…

"Get out of the way, you little brat!" A man passes by in all speed, which results in a direct push to the ground...

At least it would seem like a beautiful dream if you were not in a twelve-year-old child's body, a mute child. And all you can do is stare deathly silently at the brute who had just pushed you: with the desire for him to be swallowed by a whale on a brief trip.

The singing alley is just a few streets down and, of course, you know this because it's one of the most famous spots in the city of Altha, everyone talks about it, everyone delights as they pass through the arches that delimit the alley, ears plunge into the sweet songs that echo.

The voices are human, and are human who listen—along with a few animals, who sleep enjoying the shade of the roofs—but they are not human who sing them. You've heard of where the yellowish-colored roses came from, some magical forest out there, but that's not why you crossed the sea; of the small island from where you were born to the continent.

You came looking for a wizard, the Great Blue Wizard, by whom you hope to solve your "little" problem. But, stopping in the middle of the alley, watching people passing dressed in colorful clothes, with beautiful smiles on their faces, you realize that you do not know which door you have to hit.

Great, because the damn poster did not even have an address... and what could you do?

Knock from door to door, after all, in the same way you're used to? Of course you are not yet accustomed to being kicked out, cursed and kicked, and when that's not happening, it's impossible for you to say anything for the simple reason that you no longer have any voice coming out of your mouth.

It is on the farthest street of the alley, where you can still hear the whispers of the singing roses, that you lean against the wall, with a despairing sigh. Fate seems to be conspiring against you, by heaven, what have you done to the Gods to be so furious? Plenty indeed.

"They're looking for you!" The words leaked through the alley just beside him, your body freeze, and slyly you lean over the corner of the wall, just tilting your head to peer through the alley.

It is empty and cold, extremely cold and a dense silence is made. You swallow when you realize that you are already entering the alley, damn curiosity that makes you go foward, only to hear the second burst of words echoing too loud.

"Do you have any idea how much they are offering for your head? Prince George, at least, is offering much more than you owe me. "

When you turn the first corner of the alley you face two men, and instinctively you throw yourself back against the wall; luckily they did not notice your presence. Too bad, because it seems that something extremely wrong is going on there and you're listening to everything.

"And not only him, Rhosalia is after you too."

"What I owe is already promised to be paid, Joseph." The other man, taller, and with clothes of peculiar taste, says, with a tongue snapping: as you realize when again tilt your head, fingers holding firmly to the wall.

His hair strands is blue, you notice with eyes popping in a half shock, what kind of human being would have hair strands blue like ocean water.

"That's what you always claim, Hong-" Words echoed louder and louder through the dark stinking alley.

"Do not you dare speak my name aloud." And the blue haired man growls, interrupting, placing his hand firmly on the other's shoulder.

"Then you pay me what you owe..."

And in the blink of an eye, a snap of fingers like the heavy coat, placed over the shoulders, floats, the little bag comes out of practically nothing, landing in the hand, not much bigger than the palm.

"Here," he says, as he throws the bag against the chest of the alleged Joseph, who is nothing but a ragged, bearded, wrinkly man. "But in return, keep that mouth well sewn. My name is much more precious than any other life, Joseph, keep that in mind. "

The face of the blue haired, in turn, you can not see. Since you holds your breath in shock from what you has just seen; something had just come up in his hands with a snap of his fingers.

"How much do we have here?" The smaller man laughs, completely ignoring the threatening tone in the voice of the blue-haired, opening the sack, and surely they are rhubis in there, the brightest and most red. "Oh, much more than Rhosalia would dream of paying!"

"Keep me out of her eyes and have a lot more-"

And you choke, a hiccup escapes from your throat, just as a shiver takes your whole body because the blue-haired man's eyes head very quickly straight at you.

With a step back, listening to:

"Well, I did not know you brought company, Joseph."

You run, almost tripping over your own feet. Turning the corners of the narrow alley, passing over puddles, diverting from one street cat or other, but it seems to have no end, the alleys shuffle, and when you think you're seeing the light of day, you're not... In fact, there is no end as you turn one more corner that you swear you have already passed at least a four times when; a wall comes out of the air and that's when you stick your face in.

"Who sent you?" The voice slips into the air to you.

And you could stay forever with your face pressed against the wall, but you turn around, pushing your body defensively against the stones.

Now you can see perfectly the face of the man attired with what might be worth your soul and two other souls together, he has his arms folded, with a cold twinge of hostility in his eyes.

You swallow dry, imagining that it will be this way that your life will come to an end.

"Are they that bad?" He asks through his teeth. "What are they thinking? Sending a child after me? "

In turn, you can not move, there is too much fear in your new little body—if you were with your body from a day ago, you definitely would have put a shoe in his face—then, you close your eyes tightly, hands in front of the body, as if it were possible to stop a wizard so easily.

"Now tell me..." The blue-haired man, like the high seas, is approaching, the steps echoing heavy. Your eyes close with more force, already waiting for your fate; death, because if he made a priceless bag come up from the air, just like a solid wall, then what else could he do?

"Who sent you here? Prince George, the Duke of Halminthon or... " He continues, reaching near enough, leaning against his right knee, kneeling in front of you, who is still shrinking.

But his voice pauses, his eyes widen slightly, but you're praying so hard you do not realize: I do not even know who these are! I only looking for the Blue Wizard! You want to talk, but it's useless as your defensive hands.

However, the laughter echoes, low, but audible enough, as noticeable as the air easing against your body. The wall just behind disappears as he snaps his fingers, causing your body to lose balance by stuffing your ass into a puddle, finishing soaking your already battered dress.

What is going on? Your head asks as soon you look up. Finding the radiant expression through the blue strands, saying with a big smile:

"I'm afraid I know very well where to find what you are looking for, little one." You blink quickly, not understanding what is happening, still not understanding how the wall had simply disappeared with a magic spell. "And, well," he reaches out, helping you to get up. "Call me Hongbin."

"And this is where I live!" The door creaks when it opens, and could almost fall apart, because that's what it sums up; a door in pieces, giving entrance to a house also in pieces. What am I doing? You still ask yourself the same question since you agreed to go down the singing alleyway with the blue-haired man.

Hongbin, that's his name, you repeat as you look at him one more time; he looks so suspicious, but he says he knows where the blue wizard is...

As he opens the door, taking steps in, you stop right there taking one last sip in the dry, standing in the doorway of the house in pieces you look around, is a complete silence and there is no one around.

Very suspicious.

"Kindly," Hongbin draws his attention, finally making you enter, following him. The door closes with a sharp creak just behind you. "Do not notice the state of the walls, furniture..."

Foolish request, because it is impossible not to notice, as you enters further, you may feel a slight breeze pass through the house, whistling through the dusty furniture, falling to pieces; a stab of fear still accumulates at the foot of your belly.

Extremely suspicious.

"It's not easy for me to keep the house clean before I get customers like you, little lady."

Customers? Your head exclaims, finally following him, before being completely left behind.

"You know, the number of good customers has become scarcer..." And he continues to speak, his voice muffling every now and again as he covers his nose to a cloud of dust that hangs from one corner to the other.

And you're not listening, too busy trying to not set foot on a loose wood or an open hole in the floor. When then, you bump into Hongbin's body.

"Hold on tight," he says, as his eyes turn to your face, an arrogant smile taking over his lips.

Instinctively, with a little voice telling you to listen for what the blue-hair says, you hold  tight in his heavy violet coat. And by all means, you made that choice...

Are three touches of the knuckles against the ladder that barely existed. The house creaks so loudly that you are tempted to let it go to cover your ears.

"You'd better hold firm if you want to keep whole at place, little lady." Hongbin exclaims, and who are you not to listen to him?

The creaking increases until literally, everything is breaking, melting, breaking and then... A huge hole opens on the floor. The dive is quick and painless, but your eyes close by instinct.

What a beautiful way to die...

But you do not die, in place, you hear a tinkle, a mute thud and then, it's the third time on the day you've got your butt in the ground, because this time your legs can not stand it.

There is a velvet purple ceiling, and a great chandelier. Your eyes blink a total of seven times before looking around, while Hongbin disappears from sight. The house falling apart has disappeared, and in place, there remained only this perfectly ornate setting, a winding staircase that rose so high, large shelves with missing books, books that were thrown to the floor.

"I beg again, pardon for the mess," says Hongbin, who is actually making his way through a bunch of books with some difficulty. The place is huge, the wooden walls suggest that a giant could live there, and on the ceiling, when looking better, there are stars gliding, as if the night sky was within reach of anyone.

A tinkling sound, of a fish-shaped bell, is set above a large door just below the stairs. And you stand up from the floor, hands banging against the fabric, taking out the dust that should be present but not there.

"You're back so early, maeester." The voice comes to you in a whisper, softly, and looking at the, now, opened door, you almost utter a scream.

Almost…

"Oh! You brought people with you, maeester." The subject says, his eyes almost closed, mustaches cheer and his tail swing. "It seems like I was guessing, I made lots of cups of tea."

"Oh?!" A small exclamation is what comes out of your mouth, noticing the cat's eyes, incredibly something comes out of his mouth, with the strangeness that passes through your body as you notices a talking cat walking on its two hind legs while the front ones balance a huge tray with two teapots and five cups.

"We have clients, Leo, please serve her a cup of tea." Hongbin nods as the white-coated feline walks over to you with what could be a gentle smile: if it were not a cat with long whiskers and hairy ears.

"Sit down, sit down," and the voice is so low that you can hardly hear it. You sit at the nearest table in which he shows the way, placing the huge tray on the rustic wood. "We have, leaves of sin," say the animal, which would easily have the same height as you, pointing with the fluffy paw to the cup with the pink liquid. "Of amaranth with beetles of the desert..." The transparent liquid with subtle red touches does not look anything pleasant... "And mint with pineapple." And the cup with a leaf floating in the middle is the one you choose, for sure.

And as you watch the fluffy paws easily put sugar in your tea, watching it all with shining eyes, completely amazed at the talking cat named Leo, Hongbin is literally rummaging through the books on the highest shelves, balanced at the top of a ladder.

"You know my preference, Leo." He says, before his servant of low, gentle words like a spring breeze, even ask. Surprisingly, the taste of Hongbin is by the tea of ​​reddish color.

"It's not really made from beetles," Leo says softly, seeing your expression in horror. "Desert beetles are little sweet stones, buried in the sand." And you're relieved to know.

The small leaf continues to float in your tea, as eyes are sliding from wall to wall, there are small pots of plants scattered all over the place in unusual places, and there is a huge fireplace.

"It must be here by some corner..." Hongbin mutters between his lips, throwing another book up, with no sign of concern about the mess shown a few minutes ago.

And your tea is great...

The windows are covered by long curtains, the ones Leo rushes to open, with his paws that seem to handle everything with the same skill as a human with five fingers in perfect condition.

"What our young client owes to the torment of seeking my master?" The cat asks, softly, without any pretension.

"She looks for me because I'm the best, Leo." And Hongbin replys, still higher, searching for the book, a book you can not even guess at nature, since you prefers to sit perfectly, watching everything while drinking your tea.

It's too much for a simple human to sue. And see, you haven't connected the dots yet...

Until the first curtain is open and through the window you see the full and deep blue. You watch for seconds, as Leo opens the next curtain, and imagine with yourself how beautiful the sky is until...

A fish passes.

"What do we have for dinner?" Hongbin asks, scrolling through the pages of some book, eyes half closed, completely focused.

"Roasted fish with onions, my lord," Leo responds, the second curtain opens, revealing yet another large shoal of fish swimming. You scream internally, your eyes widen and then, you realize where you are.

"Again?"

"If you gave me my hat back I could go out and buy ostrich meat at the market, my lord, since it is your favorite."

"You know damn well that it's too dangerous to get out with the hat."

"Oh, what a terrible and cruel maester I have." Leo emphasizes in a sigh, dramatically.

"I can hear you, Leo." And Hongbin smiles, glancing down at the cat that walks toward the third window, stopping to watch the fish swimming. And this is indeed what you are thinking; you are in a castle, under the sea.

"You do not have anything to fear," the smile reaches out to you, who has huge eyes facing the window, where some more fish pass, "we can see the fish but it does not mean the same to our little friends."

Swallowing, the tea is still warm in the cup, and Leo, the talking cat, stares at you for a few seconds, then comes to get the teapot and pour more tea for you.

"Not a lady of many words, right?" He asks, finishing of filling your cup again. You look at him suspiciously, anyway, how could you respond? So, you twist your lips. "What happened to the girl, my lord, some nasty cat ate her tongue?"

You choke on the tea that barely entered your mouth: you're a cat too, smarthead! the exclamation fills your head, but nothing is able to leave.

"It's nothing more than the reason she's here," Hongbin laughs loudly, rolling his eyes at the servant, then glancing at you. "Leo is not a cat, young lady, he's a Familiar..."

Your eyes might fall out of their sockets if possible, and Hongbin let out another loud laugh, the book still open and well propped on his hand. How can he hear you? You wonder, much more frightened than intrigued, because his eyes penetrate deep into your eyes.

Hongbin shrugs, with a faint arrogant smile. As if he could actually read your mind, just as he read the open book in the palm of his hand. With one step forward, in the air, he jumps off the ladder at a height that could easily match the height of four men.

Landing with extreme ease, like a feather hitting the ground.

Who is he?! You finally exclaim to yourself, finally connecting each of the points, getting up from the chair with a leap...

"The pleasure is all mine, young lady!" The voice rumbles through the corners, and Hongbin has a huge luster on his lips, which is nothing but a big smile, raising his arms, his coat floats and he bows, "here you have, the honor of meeting the Great Blue Wizard. "

And a drumbeat sounds, it's like fireworks are rising above your head; and it really has, exploding into little bright ones, close to the ceiling, as feasts are fired.

"I know you have many questions, and oh, how amazing to know the So Famous, beautiful, and Splendid Blue Wizard..." And he continues, as he raises his torso, an extreme glow taking his face, speaking too fast, while you did not even sue the fact of being mute and in the body of a child... "But we can leave the thanks for later, right? I do not like being flattered or anything-"

"Sir?" Leo cleared his throat.

"Oh heavens, Leo, not again." Hongbin's hands go straight to the face, rubbing his face. "Can't you see that you're disturbing my magical moment with the young lady?"

"Ah, yes, my lord, pardon..."

"So where did I stop?" And he nods, turning his eyes to you, who is completely static, watching the whole show unfold. "Oh! Yes…"

"But I think you're frightening her, my lord." And this is what happens, right after Hongbin turns his face with a nice straight smile to the servant; you fall hard on the floor. "I said, sir... No one likes fireworks," Leo growled, already knowing that it would be a task for him to take you to the floors above.

The tick-tack fills the bedroom, the sheets are thick, full and fluffy, there are so many pillows of so many colors, and the bed is too big, so large that it could fit a sleeper elephant. And there are large round windows, next to a large clock embedded in the wall, in place of the numbers there are suns, stars and moons; a weekly watch, because the hours are already so stressful to be in a guest room. And just below the great pendulum, there is a fireplace that crackles silently.

You wake up with a grunt, your fingers sinking and smoothing the sheets, which are so soft to the touch, but still, so strange.

"Changed the sheets, mama?" You grunt, half smile, poking your face into the pillow, which is actually innumerable. "It smells so good..." you grumble again.

"I had a dream so strange and..." you keep talking... but the point is, that you do not listen to your own voice. Your eyes open at once, just as you give your cat leap that just got a shower of ice water, because the memories of the last day hit you right in.

Meanwhile, downstairs...

"Why do I have a bad feeling, Leo?" Hongbin grunts, the blue threads are a little messy, and his eyes get lost for a few seconds, again well supported at the top of the stairs, is already the fiftieth book he takes to leaf through; about breaking a spell of dumbness.

"Because this are beyond your abilities, maester." Leo responds from below, sipping tea, eyes slightly closed in pleasure after filling his belly, mustaches lifting up so does not touch the cup.

"There!" Hongbin throws the book to the top, which lands with a crash on the floor. "Very funny, Leo, is this why I signed you and not your brother?"

"Can we not remember the mistakes of my past, in which I greatly regret it, my lord?" There is a mixture of anguish and much, but much rancor in the voice of the cat that actually; It's not a cat.

"What was his name again?" His fingers go up to his chin.

"Hakyeon, my lord."

"That's it," he waved his finger in the air, the cup, which was positioned on top of the tray, rises, floating toward him, "and being a great and incredible master, I will not put you on the street, much less hire your brother in the your place."

Leo let out a faint sigh, his fluffy paws returning to the cup. And Hongbin soon mumbled again, flipping through the next book he reached and the shelf was already almost empty. It seemed useless. He sighs heavily, throwing the fifty-first book on the huge pile that formed below.

"I am afraid to know who could help you in this service, sir." Leo's voice echoes low, and Hongbin looks over his shoulder, half already predicting what would come.

"Oh, no..." He sighs a second time.

"Rhosalia is one of the most learned sorceresses of ancient magic, my lord." And there goes the fifty-second book, thrown at Leo's feet, only because of his quick reflexes, which made him deflect.

"Was that to hit me?"

"Oh, no, Leo, I'm just testing the reflexes of my noble servant."

"Rethink about asking Rhosalia for help."

"Not in a million years will I beg for help for that evil woman, Leo." Hongbin grunts under his breath, if not for the bruised pride, that it was for the tightness in his chest.

"Oh, well, then spend these thousand years trying to unravel this mystery," he sighed, clapping his paws at each other.

"A mystery that has barely begun is not a mystery, my dear!" And he exclaims, completely refusing to give up.

When then, the thuds echo heavy through the winding ladder. You're coming down at full speed.

"And oh, well, I believe our client has awakened, my lord."

The book closes, as Hongbin open a huge smile on his face.

"Great!" He exclaims, something going through his head as the neurons re-start at full speed.

And when you place your feet on the bottom steps, you are screaming inside, Leo can not hear, no one can hear how much you want to throw everything up and declare that you are completely out of your senses.

"Calm down, little lady," but Hongbin seems to listen perfectly, or at least, can read the words stuck deep in your eyes. "Calm down, because we have so much to do."

We have?! your head exclaims.

"Well," he says, coming down the ladder of books so easily that it makes a certain shame appear on your face, all because you are a complete mess. "It is clear to me that you can not afford for my services..."

You bite the tongue, after all, had never thought of the detail that you have to pay! And Hongbin opens a beautiful smile as he approaches, a smile that completely paints your cheeks in red.

"Then you must give me a hand."

A little hand... A little-tiny help... That was what Hongbin, the blue wizard, the incredible unnamed magician, faceless, and blue-haired, bright smile and arrogant voice, said. And it had been a full week since you had listened to such words, and you just could not imagine that the help would be summed up in the most diverse works, from the most risky ones like; to sneak into burrows of hypogriffes to steal their feathers, even the simplest—or not so much—as; put all the books back on the shelves in alphabetical order.

And in a week, you were getting used to it, especially with the days you simply stayed in the castle, taking care of the cleaning, taking care of the meals, while Hongbin disappeared for God knows where.

Until, on a beautiful sunny morning, you hardly knew how you had stopped in that situation. Although, walking with a Wizard and his Familiar would never yield to the most usual situations. But there you were, in an unknown continent, in the great capital of Bersin, in which you had only heard about.

That's how your story with Hongbin really began.

"Well," and straight ahead was none other than Prince George, mortal enemy of the great capital of Altha, "it is astonishing that you has such devices in your power, sir..."

"Leo." And right in front of you, wearing a large top hat with a purple ribbon, was none other than Leo, in his true for—theoretically—with his white hair and legs just so long, wearing a nice suit.

"I've never heard of a magician named Leo," the Prince, who was not even young, scratched his beard, deeply examining Leo's static eyes, who was holding a large suitcase in his hands.

"He is new to the business, my lord." On the left, the man in a handsome but normal suit, muttered, his voice artificially coarse, running his fingers through his huge black beard: it was false, as false as the mustache that covered most of the nose, as false as the black wig.

Within a week you've had too much of Hongbin's disguises.

"I see," the Prince nodded, half-closing his eyes. "Do I know you from somewhere, sir?"

Leo, you and Hongbin swallowed at the same time and could not be sweating more colder, in perfect sync, because a single thing could happen if Prince George found out; heads would roll, yours too, for sure.

"Ah, my lord, I do a lot of business in the world." It was the best excuse he had found, and luckily it had been good enough to free them from suspicion.

No better disguise? You exclaimed without a voice, rolling your eyes at Hongbin.

"What are you talking about?" Hongbin whispered, leaning slightly, scratching his beard. "This is my best."

"For a moment, it reminded me of a dirty magician with whom I had the misfortune to do business!" George exclaimed. Making Hongbin readily put himself back in place.

"I believe he was a very blatant mage, sir," Leo commented, grinning nervously. And you swallowed hard. Hongbin bit his tongue.

"A tremendous of a cheeky! I'll be glad to have his head in the top of the flag of my castle..."

Great, Hongbin! You exclaim to yourself.

"What?!" And Hongbin grunted back, mumbling in the struggle to keep a smile.

We're going to die!

"It's all under control," he returned, with a smile that you could be sure of conveying everything, less reassurance. But all was to unfold quietly, when the Prince pulled out a fat sack, handing it to Leo.

Hongbin's eyes lit instantly, and you took a deep breath, both relief and revolt at being in such a risky state.

"I said that everything would go well," Hongbin whispered, apparently still incredulous in his own words, and when both three were headed for the door, it was heard:

"Mr. Leo?" And the three froze a few inches from the grand door. "Why do you have a tail?"

A thousand and one excuses went through Hongbin's head, and of his also, indeed, a thousand and one possibilities of getting dead passed in his head in the second seconds, because when Hongbin turned with a handsome one of a cheeky smile...

The fake beard fell.

"You!" And the scream echoed throughout the castle. "Hongbin!!" The first instinct of both three summed up simply to run: the top hat was pulled from Leo's head, returning to be a cat in a magic pass. But not even so magically, Hongbin pulled the wig and the fake mustache, catching you in the arms.

And you might be more worried about the more than a hundred guards chasing you, you might be worried about your life, but you're not, because, in the minutes that took until Hongbin did something, opening a huge door in a mirror, you shrank holding on to his neck, much more worried about the reason to why your heart was beating so fast... And no, it was not the fear of having a head rolling down your neck. And yes, maybe it was because you was suddenly pulled so hard into Hongbin's arms.

And in the morning, during a normal day, without these crazy adventures, you would pick up your basket and open the fifth door of the hallway, which led to the street of the merchants of the city of Altha, since you were now responsible for buying the freshest vegetables.

As you turned away from the path of the most hasty people, you heard: "... Blue Wizard..." a voice whispered, and inevitably your feet stopped, ears sharpened.

"Are you talking about the charlatan wizard?" The girl next to the sir laughed, against the fingers of her raised hand in front of face.

That's right, a charlatan wizard. And that's what you had to force yourself to remember, after three full weeks, it was something you had to keep in mind; in how much Hongbin was a tremendous of a filthy soul...

Yes.

Oh, but how hard it really was to believe it, in the countless new rumors you listened to. Even when in the dead of night, it was not uncommon for you to wake up with the noises echoing down below, and on your toes you would descend, step by step.

To find Hongbin returning so late in the morning, completely out of his senses, chattering like a parrot about absurd things in which you had even doubted to believe or not, and well, after so much you witnessed, it is hard not to come to believe in something.

"Are you still awake?" But his tone, as he saw you coming down the last few steps, his hand closed to his chest, made it clear that it was not one of those nights, but rather the quietest, of which Hongbin looked extremely quiet, without even giving you a whole word.

Where have you been? Yours eyes flashed, frowning.

The truth is that Hongbin was not even sure how he could hear the voice expressed through the glitter of your eyes, as if he could so easily hear the voice of your soul.

"I brought this for you, little lady." He smiled, head down. And the bags appeared over the huge sofa. You did not care about the gifts, maybe they were clothes, or ribbons for your hair, but that was not what you cared about. "Please rest." And without another word, he passed you, going up two steps in the stairs.

It was these times, when no words came out of his lips, no bright smile, not even a pompous phrase in arrogance, that you felt your chest tightening with extreme cruelty; it was so hard to believe the rumors.

"What have you been worried about, girl?" Leo asked one afternoon as you furiously sliced ​​an enormous radish in preparation for dinner.

The castle kitchen was so large that it would be easy to get lost if it were not for Leo to guide you. And you snorted in response, looking at the cat with huge mustaches. Obviously Leo did not understand the words stuck in your head like Hongbin understood, but he could see the frown on your face that was so apparent.

"Whatever it is..." And then he quietly dictated, paws balancing the big board where a fish of red scales was perfectly sliced. "Get out of your head."

Well, how silly, you frown, putting your hands on waist, how can you not bother with...?

"Not everything is within your reach to be solved," he whispered, the board laid heavy on the sink, picking up the newly purchased carrots in the basket. "And if something is not within your reach, it's not up to you to worry."

The words sounded low, but you twist your lips, your eyes drop, and your chest tightens by inches. Hongbin worries you so much...

With eyes slightly drowning in tears you do not understand, you take the knife to continue slicing the radish.

"Since you arrived we have more happiness in the castle." And the words escaped through Leo's mustache, and your, now, not-so-small fingers stop again. "Before, it was so quiet, and my master was always gone." He sighs, slicing the carrots, and in the large pot the thick broth bubbled.

Your eyes widen slightly, not expecting to hear such kind words from Leo.

"I worried so much when it happened." And he continues to speak, as if there was no one listening to his grunts as he sliced ​​the carrots, pouring everything into the pan. "I thought Hongbin would never recover, and it's been years."

You kept listening, slicing the radishes again, after all, everything would have to be ready soon.

"It is not easy for a young prince to be deceived like this..." But your throat choked, and the knife lost the way. A mute exclamation filled your mouth, for there was suddenly so much blood in your hand.

The bandage was neatly tied in your left hand and did not hurt any more as you hastened your steps, clutching the heavy dress, struggling to not trip over your own feet.

All that you wanted, as the music echoed along the walls beside your steps with his—or her, in that case—was to slap the face of Hongbin, who was just ahead of you, with equally hurried steps, and by the way he walked, was already used to dressing as a woman; and to take potions to become one as well.

He stopped suddenly, causing you to face his gaudy dress.

"How's my make-up?" She asked, turning to you.

Choking, you frowned: that's a bad plan!

"It's the tenth time you tell me the same thing, young lady, are you getting deaf too?"

Of course you wished you had enough height to slap him in the face. And Hongbin smiled as he saw your longing expressed in your face.

"Believe me, I'll be fine this time."

You cross your arms, still not believing that Hongbin actually took a transmuting potion: I can not believe your words, Hongbin.

And without you waiting, he opened his smile even more, his fingers going to your strands of hair, smoothing delicately; and luckily, you just blushed no more because you saw only a woman who briefly remembered the face of the blue-haired wizard.

"I promise, young lady, I will not disobey my words."

And maybe it was just one of his trickery, the play on words, to finally enter the hall, opening the doors with a crash. Of course pretending to be a young duchess from the north to seduce Prince Hyuk was a bad plan, but you can not stop him.

Then, hours later, snooping around the castle with a change of clothes under your arm, you slipped past the guards, waiting for Hongbin in the tenth corridor leading to the lake, as well as combined: idea that you also refused to accept...

But there you were, taking advantage of the silence of the night to try to forget the gentle touch of Hongbin's fingers in your hair when...

Boom!!

You jumped with the explosion, the smoke took over in a matter of seconds and through your head only one thing happened: of course that's the part of the plan that he forgot to tell me!

"Quick!" And there was the said wizard, coming out of the curtain of dust, the dress barely fitting in the body because the potion had ceased to effect. "Give me the clothes!"

You did it, throwing the change of clothes against Hongbin's face, but no time for any quarrels or grunts, you heard the shouting of the guards and, already knew how much you two would have to run.

Well, you two ran like never before this time. But it was not the first time that Hongbin disguised himself as a woman to deceive a high-ranking youth. Much less the last...

Just like it was not even the last time he got you into such trouble, it actually became natural that you were always with him; at least to make sure he would not kill himself with some stupidity.

The waves dance on the sand, as the wind smelled salty, striking against your face, as if he wiped it away and took away any worry; it is the ability of the ocean to drown the shadows in pursuit. You look at the horizon, where the sea is confused with the sky that was so blue, with few clouds gliding.

Your dress of the day is yellowish, because it resembles the spring sun: as Hongbin would say with a beautiful smile. He is walking a few steps forward, conversing with his faithful servant, who is, miraculously, wearing his beloved hat that gives him the real shape.

You sigh, holding the hat with a large red ribbon in place, the smile on your face is kind and deeply sweet. Sounds like a dream, does not it? When everything is quiet, when you can see the steps sinking in the wet sand.

"And how is our friend Howl?" As Leo grunts about things you do not know for sure what it might be.

"A wedding. Can you believe that?" Hongbin smiled back.

The small smile on Leo's face is purely a slight disgust.

"Should be thinking of yours too, my lord, you can not live forever as a bachelor."

The words cause Hongbin to bite his own tongue, the hair strands clutter with the wind, the hair is blue as the sea itself. And drawing your attention completely, you bend down to get a shell, completely oblivious to the conversation.

"I'm not a bachelor." Hongbin mumbles.

"It is not what Madame Hein Heart speaks, my lord."

The spots were orange and light brown in color across the shell, which fit into the palm of your hand. Meanwhile, further on, Hongbin was about to fight back, his tongue between his teeth, when his whole body hissed, a small alarm went off in his head.

And from the shell countless little paws came out through the crevice, you drop the shell down, watching the crab dive in the sand, listening at last, through the sea breeze:

"We have customers in Liör." Hongbin says, with a half face of surprise.

You have never heard of the city in question, not until this day, when you headed toward the fourth door of the great hallway that was just below the stairs, was the door that had a great symbol of a moon carved in the wood, was the door that you had never seen opened: not for Leo, much less for Hongbin.

But this day, still in your spring-sun dress and with Leo pulling out his top hat, fur reappearing with a snap of fingers, you finally understood why the door was never opened.

At least, partly...

The house is small, there is only a first floor, and no sign of a kitchen, so little space that you need to blink twice, making sure it is not a simple optical illusion. You were aware of the fact that Hongbin owns several stores spread out across cities, but you never imagined that there would be such a tiny one.

But still, nice, you thought as you sat, looking around, with Leo already rushing through the preparations, putting everything in place, putting the water on fire to make his customary teas.

And with his fingers running through the strands of hair, Hongbin takes one last look around to make sure everything is in place, he looks at you, especially deep in his eyes, saying quietly,

"Here my name is Estephan," in a whisper, the strands of hair turning blond with a simple touch, eyes heavy. "Understood?"

You nod, swallowing; a shiver of tension going through the body, you fear for those who are just behind the door painted in moss green, fear for what may happen as soon as Hongbin opens the door...

Because after all, you always fear for his life.

And at once, putting his hand firmly on the doorknob, the door wood groans for so long without moving, and you swallow dry for the last time when you see the door opening.

But the fear stayed there, caught in the middle of the road.

"Oh, dear Estephan!" Because the only thing that happens is a young lady jumping around to tie her arms around Hongbin's neck. Then, you understood why Hongbin never visited Liör, at least you thought you understood completely...

"Three days ago I stumbled falsely while walking with my dear mother..." And the woman, wearing expensive clothes, hair in curls, and a handkerchief that never left her left hand, said with a dramatic voice; it was only a swollen ankle!

And you watched everything, sitting not too many inches away, Jacqueline is the name of the girl who must surely possess many riches, and with yourself, you wonder how Hongbin got to know her: well, you can imagine as well the young woman throws herself at him.

"It still hurts, hurting so much." She continues to whimper, while Hongbin's hands examine her ankle; it's just a bloat! you grunt to yourself.

Leo puts the tray of teas on the table, and you pick the one of pink color without even thinking.

"Y/n, I do not think it's a good idea to take the leaf of sin one..." The cat whispers, slightly concerned by the deadly looks you give Hongbin and to the young lady. "The leaf is known to leave the nerves sensitive and..."

Hongbin's fingers approach her ankle, and in seconds, he puts his lips against her skin. You swallow all the tea at once.

"How do you feel now, Jacqueline?" He asks, genuinely believing the woman's words.

IT'S JUST A DAMN SWOLLEN ANKLE! You yell at yourself, practically exploding inside, but Hongbin can not look into your eyes at the moment, and soon goes away Jacqueline, with a huge smile on her face, waving goodbye to Hongbin who is much more interested in the fat tip he received.

"So Liör seems to have improved the clientele," he says, counting the coins.

And as soon as the words end, the bell rings again.

"Well, we can see the reason for the improvement in the clientele, my lord," says Leo, shortly before the door is opened, and what awaits on the other side is nothing but several versions of Miss Jacqueline, except with faces and names different, but all there, with their respective twisted ankles.

You hold yourself, still seated in the chair, enjoying the third cup of tea while watching with tedious and especially deadly eyes all happening just in front of the eyes and the wheezing sometimes happens through the body.

"My lady, I do not think it's a good idea to mix mulberry leaf tea..." Leo comments, but you ignore it by turning the fourth cup of tea.

"And then, use this blue-tinted vial every night..." And Hongbin is so focused, watching customer by customer, billing much more than in a full year, who does not notice when you bite your own lips, already too tired to notice that…

"Ah! Estephan! So much I missed you that I got sick!" Shouted the most reckless.

"Where are you, my dear Estephan? I felt such nostalgia on my loneliest nights. "And even more boldly they spoke.

After all, Hongbin is not just a charlatan, but a great womanizer.

"Uff..." he ran his fingers over his forehead, finally closing the door, passing the key, finally answering all the euphoric ladies, who at heart only wanted to get their hands back on the wizard, but then, with his eyes traversing the small room, unable to find who was looking, "where is Y/n, Leo?"

"Up there, my lord, she came up more than an hour ago."

The sight of the city of Liör caught your breath, night fell and the lights formed a sea drifting across the horizon, like lanterns floating, like the lanterns of your city, which should now be so many miles away.

You miss it, and when you realize the truth, how much you miss the mornings, the hot breads, and even the knock on Mr. Biggam's door, you lean back against the window.

"Young lady," the voice resounds behind you, and makes you turn suddenly. There's a mix of confusion on Hongbin's face. "Leo demands your presence down there..." He smiled at the corners of his lips, dimples becoming slightly apparent.

You pick up a few details on the face of Hongbin that you had not noticed before, with the half-light coming in through the window.

"Why are you up here?" He asks.

You grind your teeth, with sudden anger taking over the chest. Because you remember the reason for being there in the first place.

It's been four weeks, Hongbin! Your head shoots, eyes weighing with the frowning brow. You said you would solve all my problems! But here I am; dumb! While you care for crooked ankles!

Hongbin does not know how to react at first, looking deeply into your eyes as his eyes widen. He smiled at the corner of his mouth, lifting one of his fingers just in front of his face.

"The solution to all your problems is not quite what you think," he says with extreme confidence.

Of course, he is the great, incredible and infallible blue wizard!

It's not what it says on the poster! And you tread on the ground, beating. Looking at Hongbin's cynical face.

"And there's no line in the poster saying I'd solve all your problems," he countered, with so much confidence that it makes you open your lips in surprise, you definitely want to hit something on his face. "Only one of them..." And he softens his voice, seeing what goes deep in your eyes.

You go around the first floor thinking about so many things at once, especially in this, that you do not even know why you did not think of it before; to leave.

"But look," and Hongbin steps forward, raising his arms slightly, with a small crooked smile but still too bright for your taste, "I solved one!"

You to your feet, looking at you with huge eyes:

Resolved? One?

Approaching the blue-haired magician, who still has a smile on his face, now even greater as he sees your expression shift from the homicidal revolt to the anxious curiosity.

How and when? You ask, only with the voice deep in your eyes, and heavens, Hongbin realizes with a snap of how much he loves how your voice echoes in his head in this way; as if it were so natural.

Then he opens an even bigger smile.

"A house! And a job... Theoretically speaking" corrected, looking for the best words. "And that adds to two problems in one solution!"

Your eyebrows rose, with even more confusion and curiosity.

And which house? What job?

Hongbin's smile should have already said it all, you should be able to guess only by how many times you've seen that same smile.

"You are my assistant as of today, young lady."

And words do not even come out, neither of your throat, neither of your soul.

It sounds like a joke worthy of Hongbin. But it is not.

"You're welcome," he says at last, still with a smile on his face. And he expects some reaction from you, the one that does not come, instead, you close your expression, even more. "What? Didn't you like it? "

Would not that be the words, right? Because you take the first thing you find on the way, and a rough book flies through the air, straight into Hongbin's face, and just does not hit him right away because he swerves.

"This is the most peculiar way of thanking-"

I'm not a child, Hongbin! And your eyes are so furious that makes the words bitter in Hongbin's tongue; he feels anguish for the first time in so many years. Do not you dare treat me like a child like that!

"I do not see you as a child, Y/n, I never saw." And he walks a few steps. "I can see in your soul, in your manner, and I'm working to bring you to..."

And all you want is that he does not come any closer, so another book flies, the one that hits Hongbin's face in full.

I miss my home! My true body! You scream, at least that's what your eyes express as your mouth does not move, as more books fly through the air. And all you do is play around?! I thought I could trust you!

"Please understand, it's not as easy as-"

But you're just a charlatan...

"Y/n!" Hongbin exclaims, the wood shudders, but another book flies, and it flickers, still interrupting any word.

Just a womanizer! And the silence comes without any delay. Hongbin's lips linger, and your eyes are flooded, flooded without you even noticing.

Just leave me alone, Hongbin.

Hongbin stares at you, for minutes, you can see the pride parted in half on his face, the way the strands are misaligned, and the way he looks away, turning his back on you, saying,

"If that's what you want, young lady, that's what I'll do. Because, who am I but a charlatan to say to the contrary." And as if plunged into a trance, you only realize everything that escaped your lips when you hear the door closing.

It's almost like every night that Hongbin disappears before ten o'clock at night, but still, so different...

The night is especially cold in the town of Liör, especially busy at Madame Rorschiel's ladies' house, located on the farthest streets of the center, where the girls whispered excitedly, where smiles on red lips are especially thought to return gold coins.

It was so quiet in the night, there were not many visitors, and they all kept in this warm tedium, at least until the moment the front door opened, and when the bright eyes saw who it was. The chaos was done.

Hongbin did not like this mess that somehow always accompanied him when he was in Liör, because there were so many things there that he wanted to leave behind, as if a shadow hung forever in his head, in his pursuit.

Especially when he was standing there.

"How long, Master Estephan ..."

"You here?…"

It had been so long since he'd stepped foot in there, and in the midst of the bustle of girls crowding around him, Hongbin wrinkles his lips, is not there for this or that, then he pushes his way through the tumult.

"Excuse me, girls, but I'm not here to have fun." And with measured education, both in words and hands as he pulled them out of the way, Hongbin smiled awkwardly.

"Well, then, for what you came?" Asked one of the girls, the youngest. Hongbin had his own motive to be there, but the truth was that he was already deeply regretting. But it was so late, when he heard the voice, serenely sliding through the air:

"He's here to see me, girls." From the top of the stairs, her tongue sliding like a snake, there she was.

Hongbin's eyes shone, deep, a cold, melancholically hostile gleam, whispering between his lips:

"Rhosalia." This was her name, for which she answered with a slender smile.

"Shall I know what brings you here?" The tongue danced once more, fingers running through the wood as it descended the steps.

And Hongbin swallowed, with a heavy sigh. He looks deep into her green eyes, between strands of golden hair. How long have he not been doing this? How long had he not looked into her eyes without feeling his heart ignite in anger?

"I came looking for help." Feeling the touch of the icy hand close to his torso. So much sacrifice, for what? Why?

"Well," she smiles, becoming the true serpent she is. "And why does young Estephan want my help?" Hissing, she purrs.

"A spell," Hongbin looks away. "A spell placed by the Witch of the North."

Her eyes shine, intensely, tilting her head, searching Hongbin's eyes again.

"Then we'll talk about what you can pay me back, Prince Estephan..."

Late at night, there were small tears rolling down your cheeks, and you sobbed intensely as the bubbles and fish floated out your window, the bed was too big for your body, just like the pillow you clung to. The fire in the fireplace did not seem to be enough to heat you.

It's a deaf thump echoing down there that makes you jump out of bed. There is a crash of glass shattering and a faint buzz of voices mingling. You go to the bedroom door in a hurry, past the reflecting mirror to reveal your not-so-young image—something you do not notice, longer legs, less childish features—opening the door, all noises rises, and you go down the stairs with more haste still.

"My lord," Leo is whimpering. "What kind of trouble has you gotten into now?"

Hongbin is lying on the couch, eyes wandering and a more than foolish smile on his face, cheeks are flushed and you feel the anger start to burn in your chest.

"Quick, girl. Help me, Master Hongbin is under the influence of a spell... "

The tick-tack of watches fill your ears, the fire is already lit, and there is so much gold, purple and red that your eyes hurt, there are jewels studded in the corners of the ceiling, between the glass that lets the deep blue reflections come in.

And after much trouble, you and Leo succeed to throw Hongbin's body on the bed with the face sinking into the huge pillow.

"I'll be back in a second," Leo whispers, now, more breathless than ever, his paws caressing his back, "I'll bring hot tea."

And you, seeing Leo leaving the room, think of going to help him just when your hears the grumble coming from the almost unconscious blue-haired hill, still sunk on the pillow.

You come closer, to listen better.

"Stay," he says, almost inaudibly.

And between the bluish reflections of bubbles floating just above your head, you stay, sitting in the huge armchair right next to the bed where Hongbin fidgets one hour or another. He is plunged into a deep trance, which makes him smile like a fool between babbling sentences, meaningless.

And your feet are swaying, it is impossible to reach the ground. Watches are numerous on the walls and you wonder if you ask why so many, when...

"Do you hate me?" The words escape, you startle, your feet stop rocking above the floor, and your eyes go directly to Hongbin's face, still sunk against the pillow with the messy strands.

He is looking directly at you, with a painful tip in the back of his eyes.

You shake your head, hardly.

"That's good," he mutters, smiling again silly, "that's very good, Margó."

The slap directly hits the top of Hongbin's head that even complains of the pain. And you can leave the room, go away and go back to sleep, but you stay there, listening to the nonsense grunts of a magician with blue hair.

Blue hair as the sea.

Why is there a castle hidden deep in the sea, and what evil would it have to stay there? In a magician's room trapped under a spell even more foolish than himself?

You sigh. Your feet are swaying again, and Leo is taking so long. Fish swim carefree but you worry. It is impossible to take your eyes off Hongbin's blue strands, or forget Leo's words.

Without any warning, your fingers are already on Hongbin's hair, and his expression seems to ease. And then it closes, weighing with a dense shadow, Hongbin tightens the pillow, with extreme force.

"Rhosalia," and grunts between his teeth, your fingers stop, retracting. "It is my promise, Rhosalia, it is my promise that I will take revenge on this..."

And there is no more babbling word, but there is a thread of pain in his chest, as if you could feel all the pain of the blue-haired wizard who lives in a castle submerged in the sea.

The fuss of the birds singing, the chats thrown in the wind, and the smell of fresh apples are all that fills the street, while you hold your basket, the clothes tightly tightened, as well as the shoes.

You're in a hurry to get the best vegetables from the market, with a few coins in your pockets. But as soon as you see the window, crossing the second corner, still listening to the conversations in the background, you stop right there.

How can you forget the big prom? Your throat grips when your lips open in surprise, it's the most beautiful dress you've ever laid eyes on in all your life, the fabric in pink lines, the white silk and...

You do not delay in entering the store, the heart consumed by the glitter in the eyes. The price is high, but that's not what makes you twist your lips. How could a child's body fit into a dress made for a lady? You sigh heavily, apparently you will miss your long-awaited dance.

"Well, well, my young lady," you jump to a fright as you listen, and especially as you notice the gray-haired lady at your side, with a huge, ungainly smile. "Why so much sadness in the eyes? Is not it a day of happiness for a young women today? "

The lady analyzes you with her eyes, opening the expression in understanding for your depressed state.

"But look, my dear," and her wrinkled hands weave themselves through the cloth, taking the heavy dress and she almost fell back, barely balancing herself.

You help her, with as much as you can, almost falling together. And when everything seems in order, the lady is still smiling at you.

"See," she spins, the dress spins too and shines, literally shines. "Even the younger ones deserve to have fun, do not you think?"

You twist your nose, at the same time agreeing and, you do not understand anything of what she say; she seems to have one less screw.

"It's a magic dress! Wear it and he will listen to your heart. Do not want to try?"

And on the cold night. The balloons lit up the skies and the streets were deserted, everyone was in the Great Ball, and there was only this lady running, holding tight her dress, her hair caught in a bun.

The dress had done its work, there you were with your body, with your true body, but of course, without any voice. But that was not what you were worried about, not even, the voice was the least if compared to how much your heart was racing.

All because, minutes ago, you were in the great hall of the castle...

That's it. You bought the dress and escaped late in the afternoon through the back door, which led to the street of the vegetable fair. The fantastic thing was that you did not need to mislead Hongbin, but only Leo—namely, it was enough to throw the ball of wool far away. And even more fantastic was that the dress was really magical.

Partly.

For remembering; your voice is still stuck. But it does not matter so much, what you want is to be at the ball, to listen to good music and to dance and that's what you get, without great difficulties.

Music fills your ears with the most beautiful notes and you must hold your satisfied laughter in view of such a beauty of the great hall, such is the beauty of the whole ball, the jewels ornamenting the necks, the beauty of the footsteps...

It's your night away from more trouble, so you do not refuse when a handsome young man invites you to a dance, and without any word—you know—you accept with a subtle smile, being led by the gentleman to the middle of the great hall.

"What do you think of the ball?" The boy, who has a bright aura, asks subtly next to your ear.

You nod, without a word, looking into the eyes of the young man dressed in white robes, his blond hair combed back, and a beautiful smile formed between his lips.

"I am very glad to know that such a beautiful lady is enjoying my dance."

You nod again, and it turns out that the words are only processed in your head with a few seconds of delay. Then your smile kind of petrifies: it is none other than Prince Jaehwan!

And there you are, dancing with a prince. But it does not look so magical, at least, not the way you imagined it. And then, the prince realizing your lack of disposition, or more specifically; lack of speech.

"If it's not too much of an invasion." He asks, "What name should I call you?"

You freeze from head to toe, music stops and dance couples scatter to make way for new couples. Prince Jaehwan is waiting for an answer and you are almost fainting with the pressure.

"Excuse me?" The sharp and gently voice rose high over his shoulder. "Prince, this is your night but, you're scaring the young lady here."

It is not too long that you feel the hand holding yours, pulling you away from the prince and the eminent danger that made your belly still cold.

"Princes are a very difficult species to deal with, miss." But the relief lasts so little, because when you turn to know your savior's identity, what you find is a half-mask, and the eyes are bright and sharp. "But..." What you find are the black wires, which can barely disguise, lowering slightly to kiss your hand. "May I have this dance?"

What makes you scream inside your head is not the fact of having danced with Prince Jaehwan, but the fact that the second ball dance is being spent with Hongbin; in his incredibly terrible disguise.

You are so accustomed that Hongbin could drink a potion and turn into a cat, a dog, or any other creature in the world: you would still recognize him.

How?

By the glint in the eyes, this glow that you can not escape; is something you notice in silence as you follow his footsteps while his hand is holding your hand up, the other hand placed behind your back.

There is a silence, a deep silence, but not uncomfortable, because it is like being floating well above the clouds, is this the feeling that dance with Hongbin brings. There might be no music, but it would simply be in your head.

But it does not last long, in fact, it lasts almost nothing. And then Hongbin walks away, with that smile on lips that you know so well.

He holds in your hand, depositing a kiss, but before he leaves, you unconsciously hold onto the sleeve fabric.

His eyes turn to your face, seeing your lips parted, the truth is that Hongbin knows what's happening.

Then he smiled, approaching a step and a half. You could expect everything, except what happens soon after, when your eyes open, huge, when Hongbin lowers only slightly, the face so close to yours.

He leaves a subtle touch to the corner of your lips, a soft and gently kiss, saying with a sigh, "Do not fear, we'll be more likely to share a dance soon, young lady."

Your chest breaks, all at once.

And you finally realize.

The real spell in which you have been throwed.

"For now, our time is over," he sighs, letting the cold night swallow you.

Letting your chest inflamate.

The real spell is that; you are in love with the wizard with hair as blue as the sea.

That's how, with this clash of reality of finally understand what is happening in this small but daring heart, you escape the ball, feeling the magic vanish from the skin, feeling that the body will soon return to its infantile size.

Leo knocks, altogether, eight times at the door and no answer.

"Ms? We're late for breakfast... " He sighs and on the other side of the door it sounds more like a whine too low but still audible to you, who has not slept at all night.

You swing legs in the air, the dress is tossed under the bed and your pajamas are now so loose, or it's just your head again getting accustomed to the senses of such a strangely smaller body.

Digging your face deeper into the pillows, completely curled under the sheets: it seems the restlessness never goes away from the chest, not for a second.

And you're hungry, the belly hoarse, but at the same time you aren't hungry at all. You hear a ninth knock on the door, but pretend not to listen, after all, Leo is too educated to simply enter.

And believing in that, that you will starve this morning, when blam! echoes room inside.

You jump out of bed.

Like scared cat, pulling the sheets out of the way.

"M-my lord..." says Leo.

"Wake up, young lady!" And your face is made of tomatoes at the exact same hour as you puts eyes on Hongbin's face, who have a huge smile on his lips.

He walks without hesitation to your closet, opening the doors determined to keep that tone of voice that is strange to you; but only because seconds ago there was so much calmness.

"We're leaving today!"

So you really wake up—not that you've slept anything at all—really jumping out of bed this time. Hongbin understands your exclamation even without looking on your face.

"To the mountains of Swonhill!" And there's so much excitement in his voice, exclaiming loudly, maybe even the fish are listening and standing by the window to watch what it's all about. "Choose your warmer clothes, it will be cold and for sure, the nights will be longer!"

But in your head only two things occur:

The first, of course, is the relief of realizing Hongbin not even suspect about last night.

And the second, this you only realize as soon as you see Hongbin by himself tossing his clothes out of his wardrobe, is the purest desperation.

We can not go like this! I can not-

"Of course you can." And he says. "I'm giving you permission to take a vacation, assistant."

Of course you'd slap his face. But you does not. Because he opens one of those mouth-corner smiles, showing the best angle of his dimples.

"The rumors are that there we'll have clues on how to get you and your voice back, young lady."

And you stop right there, staring at him with a sigh in your throat, you can only pull the air in and nothing else.

You love him so much...

"Of course... that's where the women are going too."

And that's where you really hit a slap on Hongbin's face. And yes, you still love the wizard with blue hair like the sea on the horizon who meets the sky, because it is there that; there is a castle where a prince lives without a kingdom, a castle on the sea.

[grootiez]

Mischief Night

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Rocket begrudgingly said as he approached the door leading to the Guardians’ hotel suite.

To his surprise, (and shock) Peter, Gamora, Drax, and Mantis were standing at the front door of their hotel room with a team of Terran police officers, all wearing handcuffs and very visibly drunk. Groot was being held by one of the officers and he was sporting the cutest pair of the tiniest little handcuffs in existence while he munched on a giant Hershey’s bar that was given to him by the officer so that he wouldn’t be scared.

Rocket stared down Peter dead in the eyes. “What the flark did you do?” The raccoon questioned the so-called ‘Leader’ of their family as Peter just stood there, looking all innocent as he didn’t utter a word.

“Ah, good.” One of the officers said as Nebula approached the doorway. “Ma’am, do you know any of these perpetrators that are standing in front of you right now?”

“No.” Nebula replied as she casted a glare at her sister, Gamora. She was surprised, that for a change, her goody-two-shoes sister, who was Thanos’ favorite daughter, was on the other side of the law for a change.

“Is there anyone else in the household that we can ask?” The other officer asked as Nebula pushed Rocket out of the way.

“No. My husband is asleep in the bedroom and he doesn’t like being waked up in the middle of the night.” Nebula was clearly referring to Kraglin, who was in a sugar coma following all of the cereal he feasted on earlier in the evening. “But I think the blonde man is his brother or something.” Nebula lied, as Kraglin was currently not her husband, but was truly passed out by all the cereal he ate earlier that evening after everyone else went out, leaving her and Rocket to watch the soup-and-cereal-addicted Xandarian.

“Alright, so it’s okay to leave them here with you?” The first officer asked Nebula.

“Yeah, sure.” Nebula responded as the officers took the handcuffs off of Groot before they handed him over to his Aunt Nebby, who cradled him as he sucked on his chocolate bar. “One question though, what crime are they accused of committing?”

“They are accused of criminal trespassing onto a private property, vandalism, public drunkenness, attempting to operate a vehicle while under the influence, destruction of property, attempting to evade capture, theft, public nudity, disorderly conduct, and the corruption of a minor.” The first officer read from the formal complaint issued by the plantiffs and their lawyers to the Guardians and to the other people that were apprehended with them.

The officers then walked back to their van to drive the co-offenders that the Guardians were arrested with home. Rocket was clearly angry as they walked back into their hotel room and sat down in the living room.

“Where were you?!?!” Rocket demanded as everyone sat down. Nebula handed Groot over to his adoptive father, still eating the chocolate bar that the officers gave him.

Peter stood up, clearly drunk. “We... hic... were... hic...” He struggled to say as he fell on the floor. Nebula helped him back onto the couch.

“We were coming back from the store with the snacks that you requested for the rest of our stay when we came across this bar. Peter said that we should go in, get a couple of drinks-.” Mantis began.

“DRINKS?!?!” Rocket was alarmed as he looked at Groot. “You better not have went in with Groot! He’s too young to drink!”

“Relax, Ranger Rick.” Peter said as he nursed a headache. “Of courshe we had to take Groot in.” Rocket glared at the humie. “Chill, the bartender only gave him apple juice. ...Hic!”

“How many drinks did you idiots have?!?!” Rocket questioned as the others shrugged. He growled at the response in order to calm himself down. “Alright, after the bar, where did you go?”

“Well, we didn’t have enough money left over to get a taxi back to the hotel, so we had to walk.” Mantis stated. “That’s when we came across this mansion.”

“A mansion?!?!” Rocket was intrigued. “How big of a mansion?”

“I don’t know! ...Hic!” Peter exclaimed. “It wash a huge one though. It had a fancy entrance gate with shome writing on it.”

“What did the writing say?” Nebula asked.

“It shaid ‘Private Reshidence of the Russho... Russhio...” Peter stuttered. “Rus-so. Russo Brothersh. ...Hic!”

“Who the flark are the Russo Brothers and how did they get enough money to build such a huge house?!?!” Rocket wondered as Peter typed drunkingly on his holopad. He then finds a picture of the Terrans in question followed by a short biography. “Well... They deserve to get their house vandalized. Two major motion pictures and they refused to kill off any major characters?!?!” The raccoon continued to read. “Dumbasses...” He muttered, remembering that there was a child in his presence.

“I am Groot.” Groot said as he ate another piece of his chocolate bar. “I am Groot! I am Groot! I aaaam GROOOOOOT!” He giggled with glee as he repeated his newfound favorite word.

“GROOT!” Rocket was horrified by what the young twig just said. “We DO NOT use that kind of language in this house!”

“What did he say?” Drax questioned.

“‘Motherfucker.’” Rocket translated. “Where the FLARK did he learn that word?!?!”

Peter was about to say that his ‘Loving Father’ taught him well, but even though the humie was completely smashed, he knew damn well not to bring up Rocket’s ‘Unique Parenting Style’ when the raccoon was pretty much mad with ALL OF THEM in this particular moment in time.

“While we were partaking in this Terran tradition Quill called ‘Mischief Night’, we met some other people who were also enjoying this custom.” Drax explained to Rocket.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Rocket said as he scratched his ear as he shook his head in confusion. “What in the world is ‘Mischief Night?’”

“It’sh thish tradition where everyone likesh to play fun, harmlessh pranksh on each other the night before Halloween.” Peter answered. “To get in the shpirit of the holiday...”

“OH, YEAH?!?!” Rocket shouted. “DOES THAT TRADITION INCLUDE GETTING ARRESTED AND TEACHING A YOUNG, IMPRESSIONABLE CHILD HOW TO CUSS?!?!” He spat at Peter as he got up in his face.

“ROCKET!” Gamora’s voice got the raccoon’s attention as he turned to her, glaring. “It wasn’t Peter’s fault.” The raccoon reluctantly sat down and let out a low growl. “Now, if you would let us explain what happened tonight, maybe you’ll see our side of the story.”

Rocket motioned for someone to start. Gamora volunteered.

“After we left the bar because of Peter’s raucous behavior, we decided that it would be for the best if we took a taxi back to the hotel. Unfortunately, we didn’t have enough money to pay for the fare, so we had to walk.” Gamora began. “As we were walking, we passed the affluent part of the city where we heard something.”

“Yeah, other people were also having a good time in this annual tradition, so we decided to join in.” Drax added.

“I am Groot!” The tiny tree grinned. “I am Groooot!”

“GROOT!” Rocket scolded his son as he took the child’s chocolate bar away. “What did I just say about saying that word?!?!”

“I am GrooOOoot!” Groot defies his father as he mocked him.

“That’s it!” Rocket had enough of Groot’s foul mouth as he picked up the misbehaving Flora Colossus and carried him into the kitchen. “Time to go wash your mouth out with soap!”

Five minutes later, Rocket came back in to the living room with Groot, who was crying.

Rocket, who was holding Groot, made him turn around to look at everyone. “Now, Groot, what do you say?”

Groot looks at everyone apologetically. “I am Groot...” He sniffles as Rocket gently pats him on the back as the raccoon sat down with Groot in his arms.

Rocket then glared at the rest of the Guardians. “Now, explain what happened tonight and where Groot picked up on that language.”

“For one thing.” Peter began as he attempted to pick up his head. “Groot didn’t hear that word from ush.”

“Then where did he hear it then?” Rocket inquired.

“There wash thish tall, shtern man with a black trench coat and matching eye patch. ...hic!” Peter informs the raccoon. “It sheemed like he ordered everyone around ash he shtood around, barking orders. He washn’t doing much else otherwise.”

“Was Groot around this buffoon?” Rocket demanded an answer.

Peter scratches his head. “Um... maybe? Groot’sh a kid full of energy, sho he wash running all over the place. He might’ve been around the guy. ...hic!”

Rocket was not pleased. “Who else was there?” He prodded the others for information.

“Well, there was a girl there that seemed to take his orders and relayed them to everyone else. She was skinny, athletic, and dressed like him, but she had both of her eyes though.” Drax replied to Rocket. “There were also a married couple in their 50’s or 60’s there with their adult daughter. They weren’t with the main group, mostly keeping to one corner until it was time to flee. They were successful, until we heard over the police radio that they too have been captured.”

“Was there anyone else there that kept to themselves?” Rocket asked.

“Yeah, there was this weird girl making out with a robot looking person.” Drax answered with a confused look on his face. “When the police came, they tried to run when the Robot-Man tried to run away came across a force field net that enveloped him and his girlfriend. The girl was quickly captured, however, the Robot-Man required the police to override his internal programming.”

“Weird.” Nebula commented. “Who else was there?”

“Well, there was a weirdo that waved his hands all around and called himself ‘The Sorcerer Supreme’ or something stupid like that. He was helping a teenager dressed in like Underoos or Spandex wearing a mask for some reason...” Drax recalled. “Um... I forgot who else was there.”

“Tell the Crabby Puppy about the scary looking Cat King!” Mantis chimed in excitedly. “And the weird Birdman who played lookout in the treehouse that these Russo Brothers built when they were kids.”

“Who the FLARK lives in their TREEHOUSE that they built when they were KIDS?!?!” Rocket’s understandings of Terran upbringing was foreign to him, no matter how many times Peter explained it to him. “Weirdos...”

“I am Groot!” Groot told Rocket as the twig turned to look at his adoptive father.

Rocket was surprised. “Thor was there?”

“The Pirate Angel Baby was not there, Groot.” Drax, who had been unusually quiet, spoke up. “There were two people there that knew him. His friend, Heimdall, and I think his adopted brother Loki.”

“Loki...” Rocket thinks back. “Wasn’t he the one who tried to take over New York a few years ago?”

“Yes, he was.” Gamora answered. “Nebula and I met him when he was under Thanos’ control.” She added solemnly. “But during the battle, the Avengers broke the mind control spell, and Thanos’ hold on him weakened. He was captured and taken to a dungeon on Asgard.”

“But how did he get out? Asgard’s prisons are among the toughest to break free from.” Rocket stated. “Not that I know or anything...” He added as everyone looked at him suspiciously.

“Apparently Thor needed his help with something and if they were successful, he would negotiate his release with their father, Odin. During the fight, Loki ‘faked’ his death so that he could usurp the throne without anyone noticing. Then both Thor and Loki found out that they had a long-lost evil sister just before their father died, so they had to fight her, save their people and make a new home on Terra and that’s how they were at the thing tonight.” Gamora finished explaining.

Rocket couldn’t believe what he just heard was true. “...Okay... was there anyone else there with a weird, convoluted story or was that it?”

“I am Groooot!” Groot smiled as he looked at Rocket.

Rocket couldn’t believe what the twiglet just said. He placed one of his arms around Groot. “What- what do you mean that there was a one-armed man there with a metal arm?” The raccoon gently asks Groot as the Guardians all collectively let out an audible groan and cover their faces with their palms. Groot then wiggled his body impatiently. “Alright, you can go get ready for bedtime.” He says as Groot runs to his and Rocket’s room. “Now, what were you doing at the Russo Brothers’ house?”

Peter had a funny look on his face.

“Quill told us that on Mischief Night, a popular thing to do is to go to an unsuspecting victim’s house and egg and TP it.” Drax said.

“What the flark is ‘Egging and TP’ing a House?’” Rocket wondered with a mix of worry and intrigue.

“That’sh when you take eggsh and toilet paper and throw ‘em at shomebody’sh houshe ash a prank.” Peter explains as Rocket looked at him weird. “Gammy got a good shpiral throw on one and broke a window.” He added as he drunkingly kissed her.

“And then you and Gammy got in one of the Ferraris and drove it right into a swimming pool!” Drax tries, but fails to hold in his laughter. “That’s when we decided to make a break for it and go to Kevin Feige’s house and do the same thing!”

“But then it was too late as the Terran Police Officers arrived and began to arrest everybody.” Mantis deadpanned solemnly. “Some went quietly while others put up a fight.”

“Except that Shpider Kid.” Peter interjected. “All he kept saying wash ‘I don’t wanna go! Please!’” He rolled his eyes. “Like kid, it wash your decishion to even come out thish late at night. ...hic! Big crybaby.”

“Well out of all of us, I was the toughest to capture.” Drax praised himself as he puffed out his chest.

“Dude.” Peter loudly said. “You took off all your clothesh and ran naked all over the yard!�� The Guardians looked at Drax weirdly.

“I was blending in with my surroundings!” Drax explained. “I was making use of my invisibility skills that Groot taught me!” He added on as Groot came out of his room.

“I am Groot.” The tree said as he adorably stuck out his tongue at Drax.

“Ha! Even Groot said that you’re an idiot!” Rocket laughed as he high-fived his son. The raccoon then glanced at the two stacks of paper that were twice the size of the twiglet. “What’cha got there, Groot?”

“I am Groooot!” Groot was giddy with glee as he he handed over the stacks of papers over to Rocket.

“You stole these?!?!” Rocket was surprised as Groot excitedly nodded. “That’s my boy!” Rocket read the titles of the papers. “Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Annihilation...”

The Guardians read the scripts. They were shocked by the ending of the first script so much that they held off on reading the second one until later.

Rocket was visibly shaken from reading the script that he didn’t want to talk anymore and his attitude changed.

Groot noticed this and ran back into his and Rocket’s room and emerged minutes later dragging something that was ten times bigger, longer and heavier than he was.

“Whoa, whoa, Groot.” Rocket got up immediately to help his son drag whatever it was to the table. “What’cha got there?”

“I am Groooot!” Groot cheered as Rocket lifted the item onto the table.

“Groot, buddy.” Rocket said. “You know that it’s not my birthday yet...” Rocket looked at the twig to see that he was on the verge of tears. He knelt down to Groot’s eye-level. “But I appreciate the thought. Let’s open it up and see what it is.”

Together, Groot and Rocket opened up the present. Inside was a technologically advanced metal arm. The SAME ARM that the one-armed man was wearing when he was arrested alongside the Guardians.

“I LOVE IT!” Rocket exclaimed as he hugged Groot and his newfound toy at the same time.——————————————————————————————————

Day 7 of @trashpandaorigins’ (EmilliaGryphon) 13 Days of GOTG Halloween Extravaganza over on Tumblr. (Day 7: Mischief Night.)——————————————————————————————————

@trashpandaorigins @madness-on-the-milano @mattchewystuff @thejollymilano @whoop-whoop-grocket @vic394 @woozletania @pineapple-crow @i-sudoku @sesshouki @rr4901 @rocket-ringtail-raccoon @janetgenea @canuckscot——————————————————————————————————

Read me!——————————————————————————————————

[dawnthecreator]

An Open Letter to Beemoov

This is my letter to Beemoov. It’s very long, but I just couldn’t stop thinking of things to add to it and it took me three days to compose it.

Dear Beemoov,

Before I start, I want to thank you for all of your hard work and everything you and your game have done for us. Without you, we wouldn't have My Candy Love and all of the wonderful things that came with it. I know that in this letter I'm going to come across very angry, but it's only because I care so much about it.

I am a loyal fan who has been playing since my registration back in 2012. I found your game back when I was just discovering what otome games were and My Candy Love was the most intriguing. With it's in-depth customization of Candy and the illustrations she appeared in along with a steady build up to relationships with the NPCs, I was hooked almost immediately. You set the bar very high for what an otome game should offer.

I loved the characters, even if I struggled to get most of them to love me back in the beginning. I wanted to get to know them, I wanted to help them with their problems, and I loved seeing my accomplishments reflected in the illustrations.

This game has done a lot for me. It's given me inspiration for new art styles, it's allowed me to meet new people and become part of the fandom, it inspired me to to create blogs dedicated to the different aspects of the game like Fandom Confessions, Outfit Guides, and Illustration Guides. Your game got me through some tougher times as well. When the real world was getting to be too much for me, I could go to this game and find an escape.

So much time and money has been invested into this game, not just by me, but countless other players, some who've surely poured more money into this than I have. We were teased that this would be a continuation of the characters and that our relationships would continue on into this new season, but it's not, and we were never given a reason to believe that we would be separated from them, especially after reaching one of the biggest milestones possible in a relationship.

The fandom is a mess after ChiNoMiko announced that out of all five boys only Castiel would be returning to the game, and none of her responses to the fans' questions and complaints have been helpful or reassuring – some of them coming off as rude and unprofessional. The fans feel hurt, like you don't actually care about how much this effects us, how much these characters you made mean to us. Your own way of handling the situation hasn't been much better, with dropping only one answer a week, and addressing the insignificant questions over the most important ones until much later when everyone pretty much already knows this information. Your responses to the fandom thus far have been rude and unprofessional as well, and it's not right for you to treat your clients like this.

You want us to trust you, trust that you know what you're doing and that everything will be okay if we wait and see. But the thing is I don't trust you, not anymore, and I'm certainly not alone in feeling that way. You rushed the last several episodes and character arcs, giving us little to no breathing room, you ended the “First Season” with an underwhelming conclusion and jumped right into one of the biggest and worst timeskips we've ever had, and we've been forced to break up with our boyfriends without an option to do so. You got us excited to continue the story in the next season thinking we'd be doing so with our boyfriend and closest friends, but you lied.

I'm a Beta Tester and I have to say that I don't trust you to handle this new season well either. Through just a few lines of dialogue we're told we broke up with our boyfriend, which from the player's perspective is coming right off the heels of us finally giving ourselves to the boy we love most, which is such a huge deal even in real life.

The reasons for the break up are ridiculous as well, saying that it was the distance that ultimately made them end it, even though in this day and age, technology has done wonders to bring people closer together from all parts of the globe and long distance relationships are not only possible, they're becoming increasingly common. Not to mention the personalities you made for these characters and the dynamic of the relationships being so strong that Candy and her boy would've done whatever it took to stay in touch, no matter how difficult.

With more dialogue, we're even told what's happened to the boys, and I have to say it sounds like you've butchered Nathaniel's character. Whatever character development he had in the last game seems to have been thrown out the window for a more self-destructive character for whatever reason, to the point that none of his old friends like him anymore.

As for Kentin, as it was pointed out to me by one of his fans, you already had him and Candy break up once before near the end of the game and now you're forcing them to break up again. I can't understand why you'd make such a cruel decision like that to make Kentin fans suffer more.

The most heartbreaking of them all is Lysander, though. On his route, Candy said that she would be there for him as his father was dying, but now she's left him even though both of his parents have passed away and he had to move onto their farm. He would need Candy more than ever, but because she left him in his time of need, that makes her such a horrible person.

It's been hinted at by Chino that at the very least, the boys will be mentioned, but no cameos are currently planned. But the game hints that we'll see them again in passing. But I don't want to see them in passing, I wanted them to still be with us and go to college with us. Looking back at all the illustrations I've gathered over the past six years, remembering all the tender moments my Candy shared with her boyfriend, I have to wonder what it was all for if we're just going to break up with them and only hear about them from our friends? What was it all for if you're just going to make it all null and void in the second season? Why not just make a new game entirely?

It may sound stupid, but I've cried over this. Many of my friends have been crying and still are with each new bit of information we receive. We've been playing this game for so long, and now it feels like you're tossing your old customers aside for new ones that haven't even discovered your game yet. I can't even begin to understand how that's a good business move. The fandom is in flames, the “silent players” are actually coming out to voice how much they dislike these decisions. In all of the six years I've been playing this game, I've never seen this fandom overwhelmingly reject something you've done with this game. Even the complaining about Nathaniel's awful bird shirt doesn't compare. And it feels like you're ignoring us. It feels like you're ignoring the complaints, the fans who say they're leaving, and the mods that are resigning. I have been loyal for six years, even when you stumbled with your stories, I still played the game. But now I have no reason to continue into this second season if you're just going to take away everything I worked hard for.

Also, please for the love of God, change the AP system back to how it was. It was fine the way it was. Not perfect, but far better than what you've done to it. It's bad enough that dialogue costs AP now, but the cap on AP has made it so much worse. The Beta episode alone was just under the 1000AP cap and it's not even finished. It's going to be even more difficult to play just the current episodes, it would be even more difficult to try and do any replays. It'll discourage people from doing replays, and it'll discourage loyal players from logging in everyday to get their free AP and money. Players are going to lose momentum and interest very fast and it could make them quit altogether just out of frustration with having to stop so frequently in episodes. Please, just change it back, or if you're feeling generous, change it back, but leave the new daily 20AP.

The reason for this new AP system is transparent, it's to get more money. Maybe you weren't making a lot before, but this isn't the way to do it. You should invest in your merchandise, put faith in it. Most of My Candy Love products are only available in France, with a whole manga series that hasn't been translated in more than two other languages as far as I'm aware. It's so difficult for fans outside of Europe to get a hold of the merchandise. Try investing in easy-to-make items, like calendars and posters of varying sizes. I know so many people, including myself, would eat that up like candy, paying real money to get our hands on it, but you'd have to make it available everywhere, not just a few countries. I've seen people shell out $20 or more for posters, there's no reason you couldn't jump on that opportunity.

I don't want you to fail or be shut down. I want you to consider harder that the decisions you're making are the wrong ones, probably the worst ones you've ever made and need to be changed. We want you to succeed, but we also want you to deliver the best possible product My Candy Love can be, and this isn't it. Thank you for being so patient to read my lengthy letter all the way to the end.

Sincerely,

-  A Long Time Player of My Candy Love