#also three of those tropes are just him realizing the closet is made from glass. amen

[phillipsgraves]

what if we were both men 😳 and we... accidentally brushed hands 😳😳😳 (while we were defusing a bomb 😳😳😳😳)

[ template ]

[chokemeanakin]

Aggressive Negotiations (part one)-- Anakin Skywalker x fem reader

Okay so I’ve gotten a lot of requests for Anakin seeing reader dressed up for the first time, and I also got a “stuck-in-the-closet” trope, and a “handcuffed-together” trope, so I thought I’d knock out three birds with one stone and just combine them all. Enjoy ;)

(Ps I hope you all don’t mind that I always make reader a non-jedi? Idk I just prefer it when they both have their own strengths.)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Wc: 2.6k

The thin material of the dress stuck to your legs, and you tugged it down self-consciously. Fancy red dresses were not your usual cup of tea, but tonight you had a mission, and the entirety of it depended on your ability to seduce the Prince of Krygo.

For once, you wished Anakin had failed at a mission. He had been sent before you to drive Separatist forces away from Kygo before they could take over the rich mining planet, and had succeeded in not only that, but saving the Prince’s life. Of course, this meant a banquet of celebration was to be held, with Anakin as the guest of honor. 

Then, rumors of Count Dooku’s presence at the ball were revealed, which is where you came in. Anakin could not get the information alone-- he needed a more… direct source to the knowledge, one where the Prince would have his guard down and he’d be completely open to divulging important information. The Council was obviously “under-the-table” about suggesting you fill this role, and still won’t explicitly tell you what they suggest you do. But you got the idea. 

Not that it made you uncomfortable. You were perfectly fine with exploiting a man’s weaknesses for your own good-- in the most respectful way possible. It was mostly the fact that it was Anakin who would be by your side tonight, and it was also Anakin who was your secret lover, and Anakin who had a bad habit of becoming possessive and jealous whenever he felt like his attachment to you became threatened. Therefore, you had to have a talk with him before all this.

“Anakin, sweetie, baby, my love,”

“Hm?” 

“Pookie pie. Boo bear. Apple of my eye.”

“Yes, Y/n. Cut it out with nicknames.”

You leaned over the couch where he was sitting and reading his war reports, looking at him sideways. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do...” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Then you know that whatever happens at the ball, between me and the Prince, it means nothing.”

“What are you planning on doing, exactly?”

Now he was sitting up, alarmed. You hugged his head to your chest, kissing his cheek from behind to try and diffuse the situation.

“Nothing too elaborate. Just get him in a position where he has no choice but to tell me where and why he’s hiding Count Dooku.”

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ani. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But he might.”

“I won’t let it get that far.”

“You’d be surprised how hard it is to control someone in a situation like that.”

“You speak from experience?”

“No-- no of course not. I just don’t want you to be in that position.”

“Anakin, I know how to handle myself.”

He was rigid beneath your arms, quiet.

“This wasn’t supposed to be that elaborate.”

You drew patterns into the leather armor over his chest, as if you could draw the stress out through your fingertips.

“It’s not. I just thought I’d warn you, in case you see something you don’t like. I don’t want you to think I enjoy his presence, or him. I love you, and that’s all that matters at the end of the mission. Okay?”

“I still don’t like this,” he sighed, finally relaxing back into your arms. “But I trust you.”

“Thank you,” you kissed the top of his head, inhaling his scent. You could feel his unease, but both of you knew there was nothing you could really do to help the situation. You had to get the information out of the Prince, and he was notorious for favoring human women like you. The setup was perfect-- all you had to do was lure him in, set the trap, and then spring when the moment was right. You both knew you had it all under control, even if it did make Anakin nervous.

The one thing you didn’t really think about before agreeing to this, however, was the fact that you would have to dress up. Like… dress up, dress up. It was a formal ball, which meant the ladies had to wear gowns and men had to wear suits. You didn’t know much about fashion, and what was expected for this ball specifically, nor did you even own anything fancy enough to wear. So you went to Padme, who more than gladly lent you a dress that was both elegant and sexy… more so than was probably appropriate.

It was a necessary evil.

Step one was getting the dress, and that part was over. Now began the more difficult phase of the mission: actually putting on the dress and becoming that seductress, even though you had never really done anything like this before. Even more nerve-wracking— you’d have to face Anakin, who had never seen you in anything but your daily clothes before. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your dress down again. It’s not like you had anything to be nervous about— you looked amazing. The dress clung to every inch of your body, the red hue of it popping out against your skin color. Your hair was styled and draped over your shoulders, and you had done your makeup dark and alluring. 

You were just nervous to see Anakin’s reaction… or was that excitement?

A buzzer startled you out of your train of thought, signaling that it was time to head down to the party. Anakin must be right outside, waiting for you. You took one last look in the mirror, and then turned to open the door.

The sight of him took your breath away, as per usual. He was dressed in a black suit, form-fitting and dark through and through. You’re not sure why he favored the black theme, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t flatter him. He looked dangerous, and the tilted smirk he was giving you added to the bachelor aura. 

“Y/n…” he murmured, immediately fitting his hands around your waist. 

“Yes?” You asked when he didn’t continue. He held you a couple inches away, admiring every inch of you. You squirmed under his greedy eyes. “Do… do you think it’s good enough?” 

“Good enough?” He finally met your gaze, lifting his brows incredulously. “You’re enchanting.” 

Your cheeks flooded with heat, the intensity behind those words loaded with truth. His voice was low, slightly raspy as if he was holding himself back from dragging you into the room and having his way with you here and now, mission be damned. A big part of you wanted that, but a bigger part of you enjoyed standing here, being inspected as if you were the most beautiful girl in the galaxy under his intensifying gaze. 

The shift in Anakin’s eyes made you feel like you were on top of the world, like you could do anything. If he thought you were so beautiful when he looked like that… well, maybe you could do anything.

“You look incredible,” he breathed, sliding his hands further around your waist to pull you closer. It was only when he nudged your arms around his own waist did you realize what he was doing— he wanted you to feel the lightsaber he had under his suit jacket, reminding you of the mission, how he’d be watching and protecting you from afar.

You should have known before even opening the door that you would be watched every second of this ball, even now in the hallway of the palace. Something shady was going on on Krygo, and you two were the main targets.

“Let’s head down to the main event, yeah?” He suggested, pulling away and offering his arm. You gathered your composure and hooked your arm around his elbow, allowing him to lead you down the stairs, through the grand hall, and into the ballroom.

It was exactly what you’d imagined— a small orchestra on the stage, playing slow violin waltzes, elegant lace dresses spinning around the room, dress shoes tapping over glossy marble floors, and an overwhelming floral scent from the thousands of purple roses adorning the room. 

You spotted the Prince across the room— he was dressed in a delicate white suit, accented with silver and gold, black hair gelled back with a single curl hanging over his forehead. He was striking, but in a different way— a mischievous way. Those mossy eyes were hiding something. 

The Prince stopped the whole room with a raise of his glass. He tilted it toward Anakin and you, thanking him for his service to himself and the planet. A murmur of gratitude travelled around the room, and his glass lowered. The ball resumed, but the Prince’s eyes stayed locked in your direction— this time, landing directly on you. He flicked his head, motioning for the two of you to approach.

“You have your knife with you?” Anakin grit between his teeth as he led you toward him.

The arm that wasn’t hooked onto Anakin’s brushed by your side, feeling the minuscule lump of the knife you had slid into the band around your thigh. Your dress had a slit on that leg, providing you easy access for when the time came to use it. 

“I’m all set,” you whispered back. He looked at you quickly, his eyes full of hesitance and fear. It was gone in a blink.

“Anakin Skywalker,” the Prince purred as the two of you approached. The rest of his company filtered away. “Or should I say, General Skywalker?”

“Please, Anakin,” he smiled, charming as ever. 

“How are you enjoying the ball so far? Does it live up to your Coruscant-ee standards?”

You didn’t like the Prince’s tone of voice. He had a playful lilt, as if everything he said was mocking, a game. It was irritating and unnerving, and made it seem like he knew something you didn’t. 

“I can’t say we have many dances at the Jedi temple,” Anakin answered coolly, accepting the drink that the Prince handed him. “But this far exceeds any expectations I might have had.”

“I’m glad you think so— you are the guest of honor,” the Prince bowed his head, lips curling impishly. “And for you, my lady,” he handed you a flute of champagne, similar to Anakin’s.

You took it, smiling sweetly in response. Inside, your nerves were firing out of control. You couldn’t do this— how were you supposed to flirt this man up with Anakin right next to you? It felt too unnatural, too wrong… You needed him to leave, and soon;  before the Prince dismissed you, and your only chance at getting him alone for the night was gone.

“I regret coming off as ungrateful, but I believe I see Captain Wel-Solley. We haven’t talked since the battle of Geonosis. You don’t mind, do you?”

You sighed in relief as Anakin excused himself, unhooking his arm from yours.

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Prince encouraged, ushering him with a sweep of his hand. Anakin nodded once and left, fingers lingering on your arm. You knew what he meant by it— 

Be careful.

You took a sip of the champagne so you could have a moment to gather your thoughts before hurling yourself headfirst into this mess of a mission. The Prince was already looking at you as you lowered your glass.

“And what do you think of this ball, m’lady?”

“Call me Y/n,” you smiled a bit, leveling your gaze at him. “And I think it’s beautiful. I’ve never been to a ball this extravagant before.”

“So you’re experienced in gallant culture?”

“My mother was princess of Fauna, before the Separatists took over,” you lied. “I grew up in a palace much like this one.”

You’re not sure where that story came from, but you always were a terrific liar. You knew you needed to find a level ground with him, create some kind of unifying factor between the two of you. Why not choose his status? You trusted your gut to just go with it.

“The daughter of a Princess. So that makes you… what? A princess as well?”

“I’d assume so,” you laugh prettily. “It’s no matter to me. I’m not bound by a royal lifestyle anymore.”

“So what do you do? Travel with Republic war generals to keep their morale up?” 

“Actually, I’m more of a diplomat,” you swirled the champagne around in your glass, feigning absent-mindedness. “I negotiate treaties, keep the peace when possible.”

He tilted his head, scanning your figure. You could see the appreciating glint in his eye but pretended not to notice. Funnily enough, his face was his weakness. While his voice and demeanor gave you the impression he was spinning a trap around you, his face gave away all of his emotions. You could almost read his thoughts— how you looked so enticing, elegant but teetered on the edge of scandalous. How could an outside like yours be paired with an inspiring, intelligent interior? And a member of royalty, at that? It must be too good to be true.

“Besides,” you continued nonchalantly, “you know the Jedi… their morales don’t require much upkeep.”

“Oh?” The Prince was intrigued. “And what are you implying?”

“Well, they teach against that sort of attachment,” you inform him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “A pity, really. It’s been a while since I’ve had any… fun.”

The Prince picked up on that quickly. His grin turned equally sinful, eyes darkening just a shade.

“Well, if you finish that drink, I’m sure we can find something more worthwhile to do.”

“Yeah?” You took a sip and bat your eyes innocently. “Like dancing?”

“Like dancing,” he confirmed, and you both laughed.

Got him.

You scanned the room for Anakin as you took your next sip, finding him dancing with an older woman by the window. He immediately turned to catch your eye, just barely nodding.

You swallowed the last of your champagne, setting it on a silver platter as the server walked by. “So where would you like to continue this?”

You attributed your newfound boldness to the alcohol in your system, as well as the high you got from your recent success. It was almost too easy how he fell into the palm of your hand, but you weren’t going to question it. Now, you had to get him all alone.

“My bedroom is quite large,” the Prince suggested. “There’s lots of room for dancing.”

“I’d hope,” you played along. “I can get quite… sloppy with my steps. No one ever taught me how to dance like a lady.”

���A princess with a dirty technique? I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to do it right.”

His arm stretched out to you, and there it was. Your golden ticket to success. You hooked your arm around his elbow, and he began to lead you out of the ballroom. Anakin’s eyes were palpable on your back as he watched you leave.

Just as you crossed the threshold, you began to feel funny. Your head grew light, vision blurring in and out. Your stomach dropped, and you suddenly felt very faint.

“Are you okay, m’lady?” The Prince paused. “You’re complexion has turned a little pale.”

“Excuse me, I’m alright,” you held onto his arm a little tighter so you wouldn’t fall. “My excitement is getting the best of me.” 

“I must admit, I’m just as eager.”

You continued on through the halls, but with each step your grew worse and worse. Before long, your knees could no longer hold you up, and you could barely see two feet in front of you. The last thing you saw before blacking out was the Prince smiling cruelly down at you as he lowered you to the cool, marble floor.

[mortaljin]

Meadows Bonus Scene 3: The Rock

Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Cursing, drinking, implied fairy “miscarriage.”  Genre: Fairy!au. Slightest angst, mainly fluff and drunken Jimin’s shinanigans. Pairing: Fairy!Hoseok x Female Reader

A/N: Thus, the Meadows Bonus Scene Trilogy as reached its end. This is the last little bit of my beloved Meadows series, and I thank you all for sticking with me this long. I think this is the last fic installment I will write for Meadows, but I know there will be questions to be asked when you finish reading. So! I will write a headcanon post (if prompted) to complement this part. 

If you are new to the meadows series, welcome! Unlike the smut oneshot, you do need to read the series to be able to understand this. Otherwise, you will be lost regarding the dynamics of this universe.

Enjoy, and thank you xx

Masterlist | Meadows Series Masterlist

A rock.

A simple white rock rolled back and forth in the palm of your wet, shaking hand, and you shut your palm in fear of it falling.

It was perfectly round and smooth, not a single blemish in sight. No jelly-bean curve, nor cupid’s bow top. This rock was a perfect, white ball.

You lifted yourself from the ground next to the wastebasket and shuffled your weak body over to the washbasin. Clogging the drain—or hole, if you will—in the giant curved leaf, you turned on the spicket and held your hand under the slow stream of water to rinse off the unfortunate contents of your stomach.

When your hand, and the obnoxiously perfect rock, was spotless you pulled the plug on the water basin and dried yourself off. Numbly, you went back to your room and sat at the edge of the bed.

Once again, the little white rock was rolling around in your palm and you were just blinking, thinking.

Because why did I just vomit up a rock?

You were curious no doubt, and considered going to the library to see if there was anything you could find on this.

I wonder if Jungkook’s human ever dealt with this.

You considered that maybe it was just an effect of being so intimate with the world of fairies.  Maybe it was the middle of June and you had been drinking so much water the minerals clumped together inside your stomach. Maybe your body was just calcifying all the magic goodness you’ve ingested from all those berries and nuts and has made you reject it in the form of a rock.

The idea made you chuckle, but it also made you crave the out of this word “trail-mix” you’ve started hoarding. It didn’t take you long to stand from the bed and make your way over to the dresser where the top drawer was specifically designed for snacks.

You placed the rock on the dresser, and opened the drawer to pull out some of the berries and nuts. While munching on them, you gazed at the rock and looked at it curiously.

The rock began to roll to the other side of the dresser top and stopped right at the base of a flower pot. Attributing the movement to the shifting weight from one foot to another, you gazed at it for a moment longer without question.

Slowly, your eyes moved upward; time began working at half speed as your eyes scanned up the green stem of the flower.

You examined the singular leaf before peering into the center of a bright red flower with thirty petals on it. A warm feeling bloomed on the left side of your chest as you thought of your handsome very king and the love that started from a singular. White.

Seed.

The sound of nuts bouncing against a wooden floor echoed throughout the room, but the sound fell on deaf ears as you came to a surreal realization.

“JUNG FUCKING HOSEOK COME HERE. RIGHT. NOW!”

~~~~~~

“So, what do we do now?”

You were staring at an “empty” flower pot full of wet dirt while Hoseok paced back and forth around the room.

“Well, we’re not going to tell anyone. That’s for sure.”

Whipping around, you stared at him with a dumbfounded look on your face, “why the fuck not? Hoseok, we might be having a child and you don’t want to say anything? To anyone?”

“Dandelion,” he sighed. Hoseok fluttered over to you, toes barely grazing the floor as he spread his wings ever so slightly. “I want to tell the entire world that we’ve possibly created the first human-fairy hybrid but…”

You frowned, looking away from him.

“I just don’t want to get the entire village excited in case we’re wrong. I don’t want you to get excited in case we’re wrong.”

He tried to pull you into a hug, but you stubbornly evaded it by plopping down onto the bed. With a groan, Hoseok followed suit and only then did you let him wrap his arms around you. Bright red wings wrapped around you, and almost instantly you felt a little better about the situation.

“It’s not fair that you can do that,” you whispered when he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “What if I wanted to be angry sometimes?”

“You know I don’t use this against you, and you also know that it doesn’t work when you’re that pissed off. Remember that time when Taehyung—”

“Don’t.” You groaned at the memory and pressed a dramatic hand to your heart. “How the fuck does one fairy, of all creatures, kill an entire garden of potted plants?”

Hoseok chuckled with you, and you sighed in contentment.

“But really, what are we going to do? What if it really is…”

He hummed, thinking. “We’ll have a little one that’s half you and half me—” A grimace occurred when he said this “—Then we’re going to be the parents you’ve always wanted us to be.”

“And if not?”

Your voice was uneven, already scared of the contrasting scenario.

“Then… we’ll take it from there. Maybe we can adopt an orphaned elf… or… some kittens?’

Hoseok looked at you with a sheepish smile, and your heart swelled with adoration. It never failed that he would always try to compromise with you; to give your impossible wants and desires a chance to actually be possible… right up to parenthood.

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s just… take this one day at a time.”

The fairy king nodded, a wide smile covering his face as a little gust of wind rustled the items in the room. You placed your hand on one of his wings, signaling that he needed to be careful. He stared at you lovingly for a minute before you cleared your throat.

“So, um, are we going to plant this?”

Hoseok’s eyes grew wide as he jumped to his feet, frantically searching around the room.

“Uh, UH. Fuck. Um.” You followed him out of the bedroom, and found him searching through a closet.

Already surrounded by pots, you watched in amusement as Hoseok searched through the storage closet for the perfect thing to place the hope-to-be-human-fairy seed.

“Why are all of our flower pots so big?”

Smirking, you walked over to where he was crouched on the ground. Careful to not knock over any of the clay, glass, or plaster pots, you leaned over to pat Hoseok on the back.

“It’s not my fault your flower is so big.”

Hoseok went rigid for a moment, but his wings twitched ever so slightly. Turning his head to the side he glared at you, “Y/N, baby. Please don’t try to turn me on right now; we have important matters at hand.”

You laughed when the serious look on his face broke, “sorry, couldn’t help it. Why do you need a flower pot? I thought you told me that people don’t move their flowers into containers of sorts until they’re older.”

“Well yes,” he said, standing to face you. “But this is a little different. I don’t know how safe it would be to plant this outside.”

“I—” You stopped for a moment, considering. “Do you think we should visit the Mother Tree and see if she has any guidance for us?”

He smiled, kissing your cheek.

“Sometimes I think you’re a better fairy than I am.”

~~~~~~

The air was warm as it whistled past your ear, and you were grateful to have worn shorts and not a skirt to venture out in today.

After years of being the human queen of the fairies, it would be assumed that you were used to it. But perhaps, you never will be. Even when little Luna clumsily flies up to you shouting ma-jesty, for the umpteenth day in a row since she heard her father say your majesty, you are still in awe of the world around you.

Luna holds a special place in your heart, and not simply because she is the daughter of one of your closest friends.

“Luna, come back here!”

You laughed as you welcomed the little orange fairy, who bloomed from a beautiful bird of paradise, into your arms.

“It’s alright Taehyung, you know I don’t mind.

You see, Luna was the offspring of Taehyung’s grey—borderline white—Agapanthus, and Charlotte’s yellow Daffodil. She is a bundle of joy and is the first fairy you’ve ever witnessed be born.

Bloomed I should say.

“Luna, baby. Leave the queen to her business.”

To say that you still hated Charlotte would be a stretch of the truth. She still had one of those personalities that would always clash with yours, but… she was an alright girl at the very least. Gone was the immature high school trope she lived her life by, and in her place was a mature woman that loved the people close to her.

You gazed over at Luna, who was leaping back and forth between Taehyung and Charlotte, with an amused expression on your face. Hoseok glanced over at you and he chuckled, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

It wasn’t until Taehyung flew into her life that Charlotte realized that love knew no bounds; not gender, not age, and certainly not species. How he was the one to thaw out her heart is beyond you, but you were happy either way.

The two sent you on your way with well wishes, and Luna plucked a blossom from the low-branch of nearby tree for you.

“Luna is so fucking cute,” you groaned when you had walked far enough away from the little ears. “Could you imagine how cute our kid would be if we—”

“I heard the word kid,” a voice came from above and you looked up to see Namjoon fluttering down and a nosediving Park Jimin not far behind him.

“Namjoof—” Your greeting was cut short by Jimin pulling up too late, which in turn caused a dogpile of three fairies and a human to happen right in the center of the village.

The four of you laughed, but you became frantic as you tried to push yourself up off the ground. You felt your pockets, but the little pouch you were holding the seed in, was nowhere to be found.

“Y/N, did you drop this?”

You spun around to see Jimin holding the satin baggie in one hand, and beginning to undo the ties with the other.

“Jimin no!” You shouted as you lunged forward, causing all three fairies to look at you oddly

Reaching for the pouch was meant to be easy, simple. You could come up with an excuse, and be on your way.

But Jimin is an ass.

He pulled the pouch out of your grasp, holding it high in the air. Thankfully Jimin wasn’t that tall, so the pouch was still within reach.

Until he decided to play dirty.

Namjoon had flown to the pink fairy’s side, trying to peer into the pouch as well. Frustration bubbled in your chest, and you were both pissed and scared.

Hoseok was looking on at the interaction hunched over in laughter. You shot him a glare and gestured up to the two men in the air.

He visibly gulped, and cleared his throat, “Jimin, give the pouch back.”

The king’s request came just in time, as Jimin had only just unraveled the pouch. But, he was at a standstill in the air as he contemplated whether the request came as his friend or as is king.

“Park Jimin.” Gritting your teeth, you held your hand out for the pouch. “Give it to me right. Now.”

Finally realizing you were gravely serious about the pouch, he acquiesced and flew to the ground.

“Y/N?” The pink fairy spoke low, almost concerned over your reaction.

You slumped, the weight of the secret already hanging over your head. “Just go, Jimin. I… I’ll explain another day.”

He nodded, grabbing Namjoon by the arm and flying off together. A pointed look was shot in Hoseok’s direction, and he nodded in understanding; walking towards the Mother Tree wasn’t an option right now.

So, instead, you flew.

~~~~~~

You wondered if the Mother Tree ever changed; if she ever went through cycles like the fairies she presides over.

When you walked into the clearing an instant wave of calm fell over you; Hoseok’s natural reaction was to outstretch his wings and fly to the base of the tree. A giggle tumbled from your lips at his giddiness, but you could never tell if it came from his inherent, childlike personality, or if it was from a fairy meeting its maker.

Nonetheless, you took your time to be able to glance around the clearing.

There was a small ring of dandelions in the center of the area, and an eerie feeling rose in your stomach. It had been years since that fateful night, but the memory was still there.

Always.

The loss of Hoseok’s mother was something that took ages to work through; a period of grief that Hoseok—and his unsuspecting father, reincarnated a month or so later—had to work through alone.

You had feared that the previous king would hate you, but it was quite the contrary. Once things had begun to emotionally resolve, he opened up again. Though you were still weary when he took you aside and spoke to you without listening ears.

“Y/N, dear, come?”

You followed the king’s beckoning with a worried nod of your head. He led you outside and held his hand out for you. Only with a gentle smile and prompting did you decide to take it. As fairies do, he flew the two of you towards the Mother Tree and landed on the soft grass of the clearing.

The king took a few steps towards the center before crouching. You watched as he plucked some things from the ground, and realized they were weeds when he tossed them to the side.

“Tell me, child. Why do you think I’ve brought you here, of all places?”

Standing there, you glanced at the circle and chose to remain silent.

“She will come again, though it is uncertain how long it will take.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he held a hand up to show that he wasn’t done talking.

“Though she has a cursed soul, she spent more years being the epitome of good than she had evil. So, she will come back, and I can only hope that my soul can find her in that lifetime.

“This could have been prevented if it were not for jealousy, anger—all human emotions—that have not been seen in our world for some time.”

You chewed your bottom lip, hanging your head in shame; guilt crept into your conscious and you felt like crumbling.

“Without these troublesome emotions you humans possess, our village would never have never known what it really means to love.”

The king was smiling at you softly when your gazes met.

“Us fairies are quite simple creatures; we fly, be merry, and get ‘married.’ It is in our nature to be gentle creatures, more often than not, But, we tend to lack… appreciation… of the good in us.”

The king then turned away from the center and faced the Mother Tree, a solemn look on his face when he did so.

“Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice after the breath of silence.

“I never want to see the Black Dahlia again. And to make that possible, I think it is time for a new generation of love to bloom amongst the fairies.”

“W-what,” you began with a stutter. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he said when the Mother Tree began to rustle, “that perhaps it is time that the fairies are ruled by a fairy king and a human queen.”

Now, a few years later, you stood in the same spot where Hoseok’s father told you of his plans to relinquish the throne to his son. It brought a smile to your face, and you clutched the pouch tightly in your hand as you walked towards a waiting Hoseok.

“Are you ready?”

With a nod of your head, you knelt next to him. It was an odd experience, calling forth the spirit of the fairies. But, you made due.

“As long as the wind still blows, and the sun still rises, my heart will be yours.” Hoseok began.

“From this life until the next, my heart will be yours.” And you ended the beckoning while the roots of the tree rumbled around you.

When the Mother Tree “spoke” to you, it was as if an aura shielded you from onlookers. Though, you knew there were none; it was a general rule of thumb not to eavesdrop on a meeting with the spirit of the fairies.

“We come to you once again in a time of counsel,” Hoseok started, gazing up the bark of the tree.

“As you know, I am merely a human,” you took over for Hoseok. “Yet, we come to you in regards to an offspring.”

The air stilled around you, and the wilderness grew quiet. Hoseok sent a weary glance your way before he looked around nervously.

“Take it out of the pouch, Y/N” His voice came in the form of a hushed whisper.

Scared to break the aura surrounding you, the seed was taken from the pouch silently. You bowed your head in respect before carrying on with your intentions.

“We want to know—is there a—how do we—”

You sighed in frustration, not sure how to formally ask this question. Whining when you felt defeated, you decided to just let it all out.

“ThisShowedUpInMyVomitAndWeWantToKnowIfItsABaby.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh when he barely caught the exasperated breath that was released after the long string of words. A giggle tumbled from your lips as if you were a child sitting at the back of the classroom, laughing while the teacher lectured.

Silence was pulled from your mouths when the still air grew wild around your secluded haven. The seed was held tightly in your hands, supposedly protected from the strong gusts of wind.

There was a sudden pull, almost magnetic, that your hand was desperately trying to follow. You gasped, realizing the seed was trying to escape your iron-grip.

And you tried, you really tried to hold on. But nevertheless, seed won.

The moment that it left your hand, the winds disappeared as if they had never begun. Cautiously, you reached forward so as not to shift the soil and cause the seed to roll away.

It was to your horror that the white seed sank into the ground and vanished before your eyes, as if the loose soil reached up to take it away. The dirt shimmered, and it would have looked like a scene out of a Disney movie if you weren’t seeing it with your very own eyes.

Blankly, you looked towards Hoseok who seemed to be just as confused as you were. He reached forward, moving the dirt around with his fingers tips; no matter how much he dug into the soil, there was no sign of that little white seed.

“Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

The question was asked under your breath, and Hoseok could not have heard it without being who he is. His large hand enveloped yours, and you felt his squeeze it tenderly.

“I suppose we’ll find out in three months.”

~~~~~~

Every day for three months, any fairy in the village could see you sitting at the base of the Mother Tree. Either you were alone or with Hoseok, but every afternoon you were right there.

The first time Hoseok found you there, back propped up against the rough bark, you were mumbling something to yourself.

“It was almost creepy,” he had teased when he recounted the smile that tugged at the edges of your mouth.

“I was talking to our child, you know,” you had replied in mock defense.

That little interaction was what gave Hoseok cause to sit you down once more, reminding you not to get your hopes up too high. But he really didn’t have to be the one to tell you that.

Any time your heart sped up with the slightest hint of excitement, it was instantly brought down to earth by reality. Deep down you knew that this was a zero to none chance of this actually happening but… you resigned yourself to staying confident.

If I can deal with the last five years of my life, I can deal with the grief of not having a human-fairy hybrid baby.

You knew you’d be alright; just the thought of Hoseok being willing to “adopt” comforted you.

And so, when you and Hoseok walked hand in hand—around the outskirts of town—towards the Mother Tree, you were filled with a mixed feeling of hope and despair.

Stepping into the clearing, it was actually Hoseok that was slow to follow. In three months, he barely gave his two cents on the whole ordeal. This made you think that he really believed nothing would come from this.

But when you his still form tugged you backward, you turned to see a trembling man lost in his doubts.

“H-Hoseok?”

Shock riddled your features as you took notice of the way his bottom lip stuck out ever so slightly, and how his eyes were squeezed shut in anguish.

“What if nothing’s happened?”

“Then…” you began, stopping to pull him into a hug. “Then we adopt a little, orphaned elf and love that child with all that we are and be the parents we always wanted to be.”

You felt the single drop of a tear that collected in his eyes fall to your shoulder, and you heard him sniffle out a laugh.

“Okay,” he murmured into your hair, straightening up and putting on the bravest face he could muster.

It broke your heart to see Hoseok—a man who had felt more pain than any fairy in history—look more distraught than you had ever seen him the years that you’ve known him.

But, he had a brave disposition and always trusted you, through thick and thin. That’s why, when he took your hand and led you towards the Mother Tree, you couldn’t help but feel the smallest, most pleasant tingle in your shoulder.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have been convinced that the air temperature dropped around you. But, you knew that—unless it was time for its “scheduled” rain cycle—the fairy world stuck to its regular seventyish degree weather.

You shivered involuntarily anyway.

“Fuck,” Hoseok cursed under his breath, standing still next to you.

Tears threatened to fall, no doubt. The weight of the world fell on your heart and tried to crush it.

There was nothing where you hoped a little blossom would reside.

“Let’s go home, Hoseok.”

~~~~~~

The Mother Tree was shunned, for lack of a better word. Not in a hostile sense, of course. No, you didn’t call a strike against the spirit, nor did you curse her.

You just… made it a blatant point not to visit.

For roughly six months, the fairy world was displayed in very dull colors; as if the LCD on a computer was distorted and malfunctioning.

For the first three months, you still woke up every day, smiling to see Hoseok by your side. Until of course, December rolled around, and it was time to say goodbye.

You rarely felt the pang of ache in your heart when saying farewell to your fairy lover for three months; it was a part of life you had grown accustomed to, even excitable to see another red petal appear on his flower each year.

This reincarnation cycle was the hardest one you had ever dealt with; the shattered hope was forgotten momentarily until you saw Hoseok’s flowerpot in the window-sill or saw little Luna in the village. Not having him there to comfort you was becoming unbearable

But as you always did, you held on to the smallest sliver of hope that you could, so long as it existed. Whenever you felt the sadness creep back up, you thought about Hoseok’s final reassuring words.

“Why are you cryin’, dandelion?”

A choked laugh left your mouth at Hoseok’s purposeful rhyme.

“I’m just going to miss you so much,” you gently cried into his shoulder.

He tried to laugh at what he thought was an exaggerated temper tantrum—one you pulled every year—but when you an actual sob wrecked your chest, he swallowed deeply and grimaced.

“Hey,” he muttered into your ear when he pulled you into his chest. “It’s the same three months it has been for years; I’ll be back before you know it. Maybe we can go see Mark when I come home, okay? It’s going to be okay, you are going to be okay.”

Laying in bed, you lifted a hand to swipe at the lone tear that was falling from your eye. Then, with a groan, you rolled over to see the sun peeking out from behind leafy curtains and you knew it was time to start getting out of bed before one in the afternoon.

With that in mind, you took a look at your watch on the nightstand and sighed in relief to find it was only eleven. The momentary breath of calm was replaced with slight panic when your eye caught sight of the calendar you had tacked on the wall—via command strips, of course; Hoseok would cry if you had stuck a nail in his house.

Hoseok comes back tomorrow!

Normally, this would have been a cause for joy and not panic but… you’ve neglected your duties and are way behind on arranging for the feast. So, you threw on some slightly nicer clothes than you usually wore—disregarding any makeup, jewelry, and even your crown that is normal to your attire—and sprinted towards the throne room.

The room was buzzing, fluttering, with fairies, and they all paused in their current tasks to turn in your direction.

“Hi—Hello—good morning—you look nice today, Yoonji—”

You had no time for their usual formalities, and merely mustered up simple greeting to the ones you passed. Instead, you went straight towards the thrones.

Upon closer notice, Park Jimin was standing front and center, glaring at you.

I’m so fucked.

The pink fairy gave you a pointed glare and rolled his eyes when you gave him a sheepish grin. He huffed, turning away from you while ticking things off of the device he was holding.

“Jimin is there—”

“Can you place that a little higher?” Jimin called out to the fairies in the air trying to stretch garlands of flowers across the ceiling, “can you make it arch a little more?”

You waited until he finished his request before trying to speak again, “it looks really nice in—”

“Have we collected enough lightning bugs to illuminate the room for the last hour once the sun goes down?”

A “yes, Jimin!” could be heard from the corner, and he nodded in satisfaction before thumbing away at the screen.

“Can we please—”

“Park Jimin,” you griped, taking the device away from him. “I gave you this stupid tablet, you can’t use it as a means to ignore me!”

After sighing in compliance, he turned his full attention towards you. It was obvious he was waiting for you to say something, surely expecting you to apologize for not helping with the preparations.

Like you always do. Every year.

When Jimin realized you wouldn’t speak first, he decided to do so for you.

“How are you today, your majesty?”

Your shoulders sank at his snarky remark and your eyes fell to the ground in shame. It was shitty of you, telling Jimin that you needed a break for a while and then literally never leaving your room except when necessary.

It was shitty to force more responsibility on him even when he has to stand in place of Hoseok while he’s away.

“Y/N,” he relented, softening at the pained look on your face. “Why have you been like this? Is it because Hoseok’s gone? We’ve been doing this for years, if you were lonely then you should have—”

You shook your head, signaling that it wasn’t that.

“Jimin, I—” You tried to begin, but you were stuck on the right words. “If we’re going to talk, we need to do so now. Before I change my mind and crawl back into my hole.”

The pink fairy, your absolute best friend, squinted his piercing eyes at you before he popped off. Again.

“If I was a worse person, I’d wish my reincarnation cycle hadn’t shifted so that I could ignore you for three months too… but… of course.”

He turned then, calling an end to the set up for the moment. The fairies convened for a moment, agreeing to gather later in the evening. They filed out one by one, and you waited until the last fairy’s blue wings shimmered out of sight before turning to Jimin.

To waste time, you took smaller steps than necessary towards the thrones. You hesitated for a moment when deciding where you would sit.

Taking comfort in Hoseok’s seat, you broke protocol just this once.

“If anyone besides Hoseok or I saw you sitting there, you’d give a fairy the first heart attack in history,” he chuckled before lounging across your own.

“And if anyone besides me saw you sitting in my seat, they’d clip your wings,” you threw back with a sneer. “Do fairies even have hearts?”

“Yes, sort of—” Jimin stopped himself before he could let you open that can of worms. “Stop procrastinating. Start talking.”

Twiddling your thumbs, your eyes moved across the ground—your lap, your shoes, anything—so you could figure out where to begin.

“Last summer I was… sick… quite often,” you began, voice unsteady. “And we went to the doctor, who couldn’t find anything wrong with me, of course. Even made me get a pregnancy test, which Hoseok and I thought was comical…”

Jimin hummed.

“Well, the doctor told me to try changing my diet; I was throwing up a lot you see. So he suggested less of this type of food, more of this. So, I had to stop eating so many berries and more nuts because of the sugar in one and the protein in the other and—”

Y/N, you’re rambling.

“I digress,” you said with a wave of your hand. “Well, after a week or two of still throwing up every single morning, there was one day when I discovered something in the wastebasket.”

Jimin knew how to be silly, he knew how to be funny at the right time to help ease some stress. He knew you so well and that was why he was your best friend after all that’s occurred since he entered your life.

The goofy fairy had leaned forward dramatically, acting like he was on the edge of seat as he listened, “did you discover a hidden treasure in the wastebasket?”

Of course, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “no,” you said with a laugh. “anyway, I reached in and pulled it out—”

“EW.”

“Anyway,” you emphasized when he grimaced at the idea of you reaching into the trashcan. “Cleaned the thing off, and it was a rock. That I threw up. Well I thought it was a rock, but things started to click into place and we came to the realization that it was a—”

“Seed! Y/N this is amazing! You are the first human that has ever—wait.” He paused his outburst, realizing you weren’t overflowing with joy with him. “Why aren’t you happy right now?”

The calm collection you felt had washed away almost as quickly as it had come; you felt embarrassed, alone even when you talked about this misfortune.

You could even feel tears brimming in your eyes when you thought about how weird it must be to be so upset about something like this.

But Jimin wouldn’t have it; like Hoseok, he takes full advantage of those little shimmery flecks of goodness that he can rain down upon you to make you feel better.

Sometimes it’s annoying. Right now, you’re grateful.

When the calming action had taken effect, you were able to start again.

“We weren’t sure what to do.” Your breath was barely above a whisper, but you knew Jimin could manage. “But we planted it, and hoped that in three months we would come back to find a little one but… Every day, I sat there with it waiting for it to bloom but it never did. It’s been six months now, tomorrow being nine since it was planted, but ever since Hoseok left I just c-couldn’t.”

His face fell, understanding the meaning by the vague words; you couldn’t exactly tell his expression because it was blurred by more tears that were spilling again.

Jimin pulled you into his arms, up from the throne and rocked you back and forth. Those pink wings encased you, and the fairy had nothing but kind words for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N. Hoseok will be home tomorrow, and I’ll be here for you just the same.”

~~~~~~

You made your way towards the ballroom at the same as you always do on this day, but your reasons for being happy were a little bit different than in years past.

Of course, it was always with great excitement that you welcomed your fairy lover back into the world. But, this time it wasn’t because you were happy that he wasn’t stuck in a seed anymore.

It was because you were allotting yourself a point in your life to be selfish, to wish for what is going to be best for you. And right now, that was the little ball of sunshine with bright red hair, wings, and a beautiful smile.

Nonetheless, you were growing impatient. The clock on your phone screen said ten minutes, the face of your watch said twelve. You weren’t sure which one was correct, but you were annoyed either.

“It’s like I’m having a temper tantrum,” you muttered to yourself, eyes squeezing shut in frustration.”

“What else are you humans supposed to do?”

The voice from behind and its sarcastic remark startled you, but only for a minute when you turned around in shock

“What the fuck?”

In all his glory, the king of the fairies was standing in front of you with a shit eating grin stretching from ear to ear. He was stunning, he is always stunning right after reincarnation. There’s always a slightly brighter glow to his cheeks, and the color of his wings always shimmered that much more.

“Well,” Hoseok rolled his eyes, “hello to you too, dandelion.”

He pulled you into his chest once he had taken the stride—leap is a better word—to stand near you.

One of your favorite things about Hoseok is, and always has been, how he hugs with his entire being. Brief hugs are rare, even when things are hostile between the two of you.

Though it was something you found so strange at first, you can’t imagine Hoseok hugging you without wrapping both red wings all the way around your back.

It hit you then, and you realized why you actually shouldn’t be surprised that Hoseok appeared ‘earlier’ than usual.

“I forgot a-about day-daylight savings t-time again, didn’t I?” Your question was hindered by both tears and laughter.

The moment that Hoseok laughed along with you was when you realized you had nothing to worry about. Not right now, anyway.

Even when life felt as if it was too much, Jung Hoseok would appear out of nowhere to remind you that it wasn’t; that he’d be right there through it all

“I figured you would be planning this moment to the second, dandelion. Jimin told me you haven’t been feeling well, that’s why I decided to mingle first before coming to find you.”

You settled in silence for a beat before pulling away from him and out of the warmth of his grasp. Sighing, you laced your fingers with his and tugged him towards the door.

“I know… it’s just been difficult this time around. Ask Jimin, he’ll understand how MIA I’ve gone.”

Hoseok frowned, pulling you back a little bit, “Y/N, I think it’s time we tell everyone. Well not everyone, just people like Jimin, Taehyung, and Namjoon.”

Nodding you replied, “I’ve already told Jimin. But I think you’re right. After we sit down and talk to Jimin a little bit more, we can tell the other boys the situation too.”

Hoseok agreed, tight-lipped and firm but he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before you continued through the door to play your role in the king’s reincarnation banquet.

Thankfully, the red-haired fairy had taken your hour of absence in stride and conversed with a great majority of the attendants (which was all of the fairies, of course). Once you had entered, though, you could see Jimin immediately sigh a breath of relief.

It was on evenings like this, when the village had cause for celebration—though, that was still quite often, given the nature of fairies—that you felt the most at peace. As the fairies drank their special elixirs, or damnation in a cup as your human liver would probably call it, you could sit back and sip on your own glass of wine and enjoy the merriment.

Of course, something was still off, and many fairies that approached you in greeting had commented so.

“Just feeling a little bit ill,” you would tell them when they’d react to your sullen face.

Eventually you had “lied” to just the right person, Namjoon and Taehyung, to be exact, and soon you were saying goodbye after only a short time of socializing.

Though, the night of talking wasn’t over with, and you had flagged Jimin down as you were leaving. The poor fairy was in the midst of trying to impress a group of women, to which he protested when you dragged his half-sober self from embarrassing himself.

“Jimin, you never drink!”

Hoseok playfully scolded the younger as the two of you watched in amazement as Jimin brushed up against the walls one too many times.

Once you had gotten outdoors though, Jimin was free to laugh and barrel roll through the air as he pleased.

Turning to Hoseok with an amused smile on your face, you laughed, “I want what he had.”

“Hell no,” he replied shortly, much to your disappointment. “Though, we should probably wait until he sobers up to have that conversation with him.”

“Conversation with who?”

Jimin landed right in front of you only teetering a little bit when his feet touched the ground.

“That important stuff we talked about yesterday, there’s more things we’d both like to say about it.”

The drunken fairy hummed, face changing when he realized what you had meant.

“Oh, right. I can dig it up for you if you haven’t done so already.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Wouldn’t be s’great as a reminder, you know? Having it sitting in one of your pots, Y/N.”

Hoseok intervened, an eyebrow already quirked. “We didn’t plant it in a pot, Jimin?”

“Oh. Well, then where’d it go?”

You dragged your hand down your face, and groaned.

“We didn’t plant it ourselves. It just kind of sunk into the ground and disappeared. Remember when I told you we went to the Mother Tree for guidance?”

Jimin teetered for a moment, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in inebriated contemplation, “and I thought you said nothing came of it?”

“No, it didn’t, Jimin.” Hoseok huffed in irritation.

“Then why s’there such a pretty new flower at the base of the Mother Tree?”

“WHAT?”

Simultaneously, both you and Hoseok answered the question in a flurry of confusion. The two of you stared at one another, before glancing back at a very puzzled Jimin.

“Yeah today there was a—”

But you didn’t hear anything as you and Hoseok raced towards the Tree. Had you not been panicking to find out what Jimin’s drunken confession meant, you would have told Hoseok not to fly so hard.

When your feet touched the ground, however, your thoughts immediately led you through the clearing.

You could feel a change in the atmosphere the moment you were within the direct vicinity of the Mother Tree. Yet, nothing could prepare you for the change your life was about to welcome.

“My gods,” Hoseok whispered, coming to your side.

Eyes opened for the first time the moment his hand grazed your shoulder in comfort. A tingling sensation ran through your soul-mark, and you watched in amazement as two different colored eyes stared back at you.

For in the soft center of a large dandelion was a beautiful, little fairy with bright golden wings to match. 

[taterodriguez]

TITLE: better not to breathe than breathe a lie LOCATION & DATE: november 23rd, 2018.

NOVEMBER 2010

The last few months of their life had been a whirlwind of self-discovery for Tate which had started to clarify many aspects of their lives.  Tate had always been aware of how different they had been from what their mother had expected and wanted for Tate’s life.  Elena had always wanted the perfect debutante, a proper young woman who wore dresses and would eventually fall into the housewife trope.  But in the end, Elena’s expectations were never going to be met.  When Elena went right, Tate went left.  Elena went up, Tate went down.  Every single time Tate was expected to meet their mother’s standards, they did the exact opposite.

For the entirety of Tate’s life, it felt as though Tate had just been a piece in Elena’s games.  Tate never truly had control of what they did or didn’t do.  Elena made all of the decisions – what they wore to Cotillion, what outfits were in their closet, what extra-curricular activities that Tate was permitted to participate in, and what meals Tate was able to consume.  It had been that way for as long as Tate could remember.

Tate’s life had always been nothing short of confusing.  It started when Tate had realized they weren’t like the other girls their age, but they weren’t exactly like the boys either.  Tate always fell short in the middle.  Tate had enjoyed both aspects of both genders.  They had always just assumed that they were a tom boy although they had always been complicit with Elena’s wishes of a perfect debutante in a futile attempt to please their mother.

It hadn’t been until the last year that Tate came to the realization that their differences meant something.  The small differences that set them apart from the King Kirbey’s and Ophelia Atanas’ of the Upper East Side weren’t just small inconveniences.  It all played into who they were on a grander scale than Cotillion and Elena Rodriguez’s expectations.

Tate had come to the realization that they were gender fluid.

After many Google searches, Tate had come to the conclusion that this was the easiest explanation for always feeling as if they were not really a part of their own life.  Tate made the safe decision to make sure to explore further into gender fluidity before deciding to make the brave decision to tell their parents.  But sure enough, after attending some LGBTQ+ meetings secretly and asking questions to those who identify as transgender, Tate was sure the best way to classify them was gender fluid.

The only thing left to do was to tell her mother.

PRESENT DAY

A low grumble departs from their lips as Tate wiped down the bar counter and threw the cloth down against the marble countertop before walking around the counter and helping themselves to a generous glass of wine.  It had been a long evening and the last thing Tate wanted to listen to was their employees complaining about what plans they had for the evening and how they were stuck here doing work.  In typical Tate fashion, they had allowed their staff to leave early leaving the rest of the work in the restaurant that needed to be done to themselves.

Tate hoisted themselves onto the marble countertop with a huff and took a generous gulp from their wine glass.  It had been a rough few weeks for Tate considering the restaurant was being threatened to be taken from their fingertips, Monty sleeping with Chessie, essentially destroying whatever friendship they developed with Chessie, watching Monty suffer after the death of Celia Santos, and dealing with the aftermath of the fire at Club Blur.  Tate’s mind hadn’t been able to settle for even the slightest moment because Tate knew their thoughts would suffocate them and they would be brought back to the night of the fire.

The only thing that brought Tate back to reality was the familiar sound of the entry bell at Howl’s front door.  Quickly, Tate hid their glass of Merlot beneath the marble countertop and hopped onto the floor.  They did their best to brush out the wrinkles in their shirt and tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears in attempt to hide the obvious distress they had been in.  Tate turned on their heels, walking around the counter, and plastering a smile across their features to greet their unsuspected guest.  “Hi, I’m sorry but –“  Tate’s words catch in their throat at the sight of who had entered their establishment.  The sight of the woman who had once had the ability to send chills up their spine, to raise the hair on their arms, and their heart to race.  At Tate’s reaction, you would assume they had just come face to face with Satan themselves and as far as they were concerned, she was Satan incarnate.

It was Elena Rodriguez.  Alive and in the flesh.

NOVEMBER 2010

Approaching their mother always made Tate feel like a wounded dog with their tail between their legs.  No matter how much Tate prepared themselves for their encounters, Tate was never quite able to prepare themselves for the judgmental glare, relentless scolding, and condescending tone that always made Tate feel as though they had done something wrong despite always putting their best foot forward as they were told.

Tate took a deep breath as they approached the door for their mother’s sunroom and knocked three times before waiting to be let in.  Behind the door, Tate could hear Elena’s footsteps faintly approaching the door that stood between them and Tate’s breath caught in their throat as the doorknob turned.  “Tatiana,” Elena muttered as if Tate had already disgraced them but nonetheless, held the door ajar for Tate to enter.  “Madré.”  Tate nodded politely as they entered, finding themselves a seat opposite to where Elena usually sat.

To say that Elena was a cold woman would be the understatement of the century.  Tate’s success at Cotillion was no secret considering Elena had molded Tate into the perfect debutante she’d always wanted it was no surprise Tate always came out successful.  Despite being molded into Elena’s idea of a “perfect debutante,” Tate’s success had never been enough for Elena.  She had always been able to find something to criticize whether Tate hadn’t walked with enough confidence or that they hadn’t spoken highly enough of their successes.  Elena was always able to pick out Tate’s biggest insecurities and use them against Tate to make them feel small in which Elena was always successful.

“Mama,” Tate started.  “Is Padré around?  I’d really like to talk to you both about…”  Elena interrupted before Tate could even finish their sentence, “Tatiana, why didn’t you just get him before you came here?”  As Elena continued to scold Tate about how they should’ve brought their father up with them, they began to fiddle with their thumbs, a habit their mother had always hated.  “Tatiana!”  The raise of her voice was enough for Tate to become as still as a statue.  “Lo siento, Mama.”  Tate muttered, lowering their head before tucking their hands under their legs.  Elena approached the intercom and called for Miguel to join them in the sunroom.  “After years of practice, you still do not behave as a debutante!”

PRESENT DAY

It was almost as if a ghost had entered Howl.  It had been eight years since Tate had spoken to their mother let alone seen her face to face.  Elena looked as bitter as ever.  Granted, it was comforting to know that despite their familial problems, that Tate would also age well.  Despite a few wrinkles between her brows, Elena hadn’t aged a day since Tate saw them last.  Surely, due to copious amounts of Botox and plastic surgery, Tate hoped.

Although Tate was usually quick on their feet in terms of wit, the sight of their mother had rendered them speechless.  After Wren Abernathy’s unexpected visit at Howl last week, you would think Tate would have learned their lesson about locking the door after their employees leave but that had clearly not been the case.  But, after this encounter, Tate would be sure to lock the doors after hours because they didn’t think they would be able to handle anymore unexpected visits.

“What can I do for you?”  Tate addressed coldly.  “I’m sure you’re not here for the food.”

If Tate’s reaction to Elena’s appearance didn’t show how unwelcome this visit was, their first interaction in eight years had made it abundantly clear considering Tate didn’t even address her as their mother.

“Hello Tatiana,” the words come out of Elena’s mouth like venom.  “I thought your restaurant would be a little higher class.”

The only response Tate could muster was a scoff and roll of their eyes.  Typical Elena.

“I actually came to speak to you about your business,” Elena’s words are calculated, and it caused Tate to become weary of this interaction.  Clearly this was for her benefit and not Tate’s.  A bark of laughter fell from their lips that was nothing short of ironic.  Who was Elena Rodriguez to speak about business considering their father handled every business transaction in the Rodriguez household.  To their memory, anyway.

“What do you know about business, Elena?”  Tate used her name purposely, knowing that it would sting in ways she would never admit.

The look on Elena’s face at hearing Tate refer to her as Elena provided more satisfaction than anything else that happened recently in their life had.  Tate raised a brow as if to ask what Elena was going to do now.  Pride getting the best of themselves considering this is the most confident Tate has ever felt speaking to their mother.

But of course, Elena’s words are harsh, to the point, and still able to catch Tate off guard.

“Buying Howl would be a mistake on your part,” Elena stepped toward them as she spoke, and Tate instinctively took a step back.

“You’re not cut out for owning a business,” her words are sharp, and sting more than Tate cared to admit.

NOVEMBER 2010

As Miguel entered the room, he offered his usual pleasantries offering a kiss on the cheek to both Elena and Tate before he took a seat opposite to both Elena and Tate.  “What did you want to talk about, míja?”  Miguel was pleasant and oblivious as usual.

A feeling of comfort immediately washed over Tate as Miguel entered the room.  Tate’s Dad had always been the parent Tate preferred speaking to over Elena.  Out of both of Tate’s parents, they figured that Miguel would be most accepting of what Tate was about to tell their parents which is why Tate wanted him in the room when they broke the news.

How was Tate supposed to explain gender fluidity to their parents?  Especially Elena?  Tate suspected that Miguel would be a little more open-minded, but in all honesty, Elena was the hard nut to crack between the two.

“So, uh…”  They started.  “I’ve always felt out of place in my life and I never really knew why.  Mom always wanted me to be the perfect debutante but… I just never felt that I never met her expectations.”  Tate’s face grew warm, sweat grew above their brow, and their heart had been racing a mile a minute.  “I just… never really felt like I belonged in this life.  But over the last couple of months, I… explored a lot of different… I guess you could say lifestyles?”  Tate wasn’t getting to the point and felt that they were losing their parents, seeing Elena roll their eyes and mutter under her breath to Miguel.

“Dad,” Tate addressed specifically.  “I don’t identify as a female.  I… think I’m gender fluid.  Which means I don’t identify with either…”  As usual, Elena interrupted before Tate could explain.

“Excuse me?”  Elena spit through her teeth.

PRESENT DAY

“Are you joking?”  Tate had been taken aback at Elena’s words.  As far as they were concerned, Elena had no right to approach Tate about running a business.  Tate’s father had always handled business endeavours and financial issues.  To their knowledge, Elena just bathed in the wealth and spent their father’s money.

“No,” Elena stated.  “I don’t think you should purchase Howl or was that not clear?”

“He tenido el control de este negocio durante más de cuatro años y usted está tratando de decirme que no sé nada acerca de dirigir un negocio.”  Tate’s voiced raised with every word.  “¿Quién crees que vas a entrar en mi negocio después de OCHO AÑOS?”

As Elena tried to interrupt, Tate continued to raise their voice over hers in Spanish.  “After eight years, you think you have the right to come into my place of work and tell me anything about running a business even though all you’ve done for the twenty-four years of my life is sit on your ass and spend dad’s pay cheques?”  Tears threatened to fall from Tate’s eyes.  “You’ve never done anything in my entire life that benefits me only things that benefit you!”

Tate could not believe the audacity of Elena.  Their mother had always been a bold woman but coming into Tate’s place of work trying to tell Tate anything about business was a whole new low for her.  Tate scoffed before returning behind the counter, no longer concerned with pleasantries, and took a generous gulp from their glass of wine.

“I think it is a bad idea,” Elena tried to continue.  “You will fail, Tatiana.”

“Who are you to tell me this?”  Tate moved from behind the counter to stand face to face with their mother.  “You don’t know a thing about me,” Tate spit through their teeth.  “I’m not the same scared little girl anymore that cowers in the corner when you raise your voice.  I’m not going to allow you to come into my place of work and try to bully me after eight years of silence.  You don’t get to choose when you are part of my life.  You made it very fucking clear that you wanted nothing to do with me and now that I am building a name for myself… you think you can waltz in and try to boss me around again?”

“Tatiana, please…”  Elena tried.  “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Get the fuck out,” Tate dismissed.

As Elena nodded, turned on their heels and headed toward the door, a sense of pride washed over Tate’s body.  This had been the first time in their entire life that they had stood up for themselves against Elena.  “Tatiana, just…” Elena turned before she reached the door, trying to reach their child one more time.

“LEAVE!”  There is no weakness in Tate’s voice only anger.

NOVEMBER 2010

It hadn’t quite been the response Tate anticipated.  Sure, Tate expected Elena to yell and berate them for their choices but telling them to leave?  Well, that was the worst-case scenario.  Tears fell from Tate’s eyes as they packed their belongings, finally aware of how cruel their mother truly was.

Where was Tate going to go?  They were only sixteen years old.  Tate had no family left in New York since the death of their Abuéla last year.  No person in their right mind would allow an unemployed sixteen-year-old to rent an apartment.  As Tate heard footsteps enter their bedroom, they quickly wiped the tears from their eyes with the back of their hand and willed themselves to be strong.  “Don’t worry,” Tate started.  “I won’t be here much longer.”

“Míja,” Miguel spoke over Tate.  “You don’t have to go.”

Tate was dumbfounded.  All their father had done while Elena tore into Tate was sit there with a far-off look.  Tate hadn’t even been sure of whether or not they had been paying attention to what Elena had been saying to them.  Granted, after being married to her for so long, Tate could only assume he learned how to block her out which is a feat Tate wished that they’d developed.

“She made it very clear,” Tate continued grabbing articles of clothing, their valuables, and other items they did not want to be left behind.  “If she can’t accept me for who I am then I don’t want to stay here.”

“She’s just confused, míja.  She doesn’t understand,” Miguel’s attempt to reason with Elena caused a scoff to pass through Tate’s lips.  “You just have to explain it to her.”

“I tried to explain,” Tate turned to face their father, tears still falling from their eyes.  “She’s never accepted me for who I am.  She always wanted me to be something that I wasn’t, and I can’t live like this anymore, Dad.  I’ll never be able to live up to her expectations.”

“Tatiana, please don’t go.”  Miguel’s words are quiet, quieter than Tate’s ever heard, and it is clear that he didn’t agree with what Elena wanted Tate to do.  “We can… work through this together.”  Miguel said as he sat down on their bed as Tate returned to packing their life into their suitcase, tears silently spilling down their cheeks.  “I won’t stay here,” the words come out of their mouth like word vomit.  “I just won’t.”

As Tate finally finished packing all of their belongings, they zipped their suitcase shut and pulled it off the bed.  Tate grabbed the first jacket they could find and pulled it over their shoulders, trying to make as quick of an exit as possible in attempt to avoid their mother joining the room.  “Míja, please don’t go.”  Miguel pleaded, one last time, and Tate just gave a shake of their head in response.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”  Tate mumbled as they left their bedroom with their suitcase in tow and quickly made their way out of the house, onto the street and hailed a cab.  They took one final look up at the Rodriguez family home unsure of the next time they’d see it or if they ever would come back here again.  With the back of their hand, Tate wiped away the remaining tears and threw their suitcase in the back seat of the taxi before sitting in the back seat themselves.  “Where to?”  A husky voice asked from the front seat.

“Anywhere but here,” Tate mumbled as they pulled away from the Rodriguez home and began to gnaw on the inside of their cheek.  No looking back now.  They were free.  For the first time in their life, Tate was free of Elena’s expectations and had the whole world at their fingertips.

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 12: "Scooby Doo and a Mummy, Too"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 12)

AKA "We Forgot One Universal Monster Last Episode"

The episode opens on a view of a university campus, with the usual spooky musical sting in spite of nothing being visibly eerie... until we cut into a building identified “DEPARTMENT OF ARCHEOLOGY” (sic). Inside, a professor is introducing the gang to the mummified remains of Ankha, an ancient Egyptian ruler who was once “the most feared ruler”—though we’re never given a reason why he was feared. What did he do that was so terrible?

I’ll note that the subtitles spell the name as “Anka”, but the Scooby Doo wiki gives the more standard-looking “Ankha”. As is oddly typical of adults who are not the culprit in a given episode, the Professor is never given a name, though he introduces his colleague as Dr. Najib, who helped bring the mummy over for the university’s replica of Ankha’s tomb.

A middle eastern man with narrow eyes and permanently lowered brow, voiced by Vic Perrin in an almost exact duplicate of his portrayal of Jonny Quest villain Doctor Zin, Najib raises the subject of the curse of Ankha, relating his hope that it did not follow them. I’ll say it right here, because it’s not much of a spoiler when so many flags are triggered right away: Najib is the culprit, and it’s another example of casual racism this season. The thieving, scheming Arab was a popular villain trope of the day, and while Najib isn’t quite as overt as some other variations on the trope, he’s far from a deconstruction or a subversion.

As Najib makes his exit, the gang agree to help the Professor, and Shaggy lays his filthy mitts on an ancient golden medallion the entire cast identify as a coin in spite of a lack of any evidence that it is currency. As Shaggy manhandles priceless ancient artifacts, the Professor explains it’s part of an unsolved mystery, and suggests the gang pick up some sandwiches on his dollar in order to satisfy Shaggy’s appetite.

While they’re gone, the Professor hears a crash, and comes out to find the mummy gone and a mummy-shaped hole in the glass doors. Meanwhile, Shaggy receives an order of three burgers and three sandwiches—liverwurst, à la mode. The chef spoons bright pink ice cream onto three open-face sandwiches, and Shaggy hands him a dollar bill and a half-dollar coin... that is actually the ancient Egyptian coin! 

Shaggy has unconsciously pocketed it, demonstrating kleptomaniac tendencies that are never commented upon. The gang pay properly and Fred suggests they grab the sandwiches and get back to the Professor to return the coin. I’ll note that the food is clearly served on dine-in plates, rather than to-go containers, and when the food is taken from the counter off-screen, it makes a plate-rattling sound. Did they just walk out with burgers and open-faced sandwiches in-hand, sans any kind of container or wrapper?

When the gang return, they find the Professor in his office, where he’s been TURNED TO STONE! “14-karat stone”, Shaggy quips. Velma, bastion of rational, scientific skepticism, observes that only one person could be responsible: the mummy.

The gang look outside and find the busted glass, but Velma notes that it’s broken in rather than out, making it clear this wasn’t an exit. Fred orders the gang to split up and search for the mummy, and Shaggy soon accidentally discovers the bandaged terror hiding in the Janitor’s Closet. Locking him in, Shaggy, Velma, and Scooby flee in terror, instead of doing the reasonable thing and making sure the mummy is properly trapped.

Thus ensues the usual hide-and-chase sequence, although the mummy only groans and shambles slowly rather than running. Of course, there’s still extensive damage done to priceless museum artifacts by the B Team’s attempts to hide. Eventually cornered, the mummy begins to demand, “coin... coin!!” and nods and grunts in the affirmative when Velma suggests he means the old Egyptian one, and not the quarter Shaggy offers him.

When Velma insists they don’t give him what he wants, it falls to Scooby to defend them, and he demands a hefty price of Scooby Snacks.

I believe this is the first time we see a box of Scooby Snacks, which are drawn as being about half the size of previous appearances, and the box simply reads “SCOOBY SNACKS”. It’s also the first implication that “Scooby Snacks” is the name of a product on the market, rather than just what the gang call dog treats, or a home-made specialty.

Emboldened, Scooby tries taking a swing at the mummy with his left foreleg, but there’s a sound like a steel drum being struck, and Scooby’s metacarpals collapse and fold inward like a limp accordion tube. This does not deter the carb-loaded canine, who dashes offscreen and returns in a karate gi, and begins to yelp out kiais so badly stereotypical that the captioning refused to display them as he chops at the motionless mummy. It’s no more effective, so Scooby tries one last attack: 

A little of the old razzmatazz.

At first, the soft-shoe routine seems to be Scooby’s attempt at desertion, but in spite of Velma’s shock, the dog sneaks back in behind the advancing mummy and nails his rags to the floor with a hammer.

Once again, the trio flee without making sure that Ankha is captured, even though Velma says they’re going to tell Daphne and Fred that they just did that. Meanwhile, Fred and Daphne are exploring outside, having found what look to be the mummy’s footprints going into a construction area. They discover Dr. Najib’s car, with what appears to be the doctor turned to stone, and wonder if Shaggy and Velma have run into the mummy themselves, not seeming to be concerned that their friends could be turned to stone any moment.

Having returned, Shaggy and Velma find that the mummy has escaped and disappeared, and inspect the piece of bandage left nailed to the floor. They retreat to a laboratory to investigate the new-feeling wrappings and determine its actual age, where an unattended Scooby drinks three large glasses of a chartreuse liquid. There’s an odd screen-filling animation of an explosion that fades in and out, and Scooby’s head has turned into that of a frog!

He lets out a few confused ribbits, and the effect reverses, explosion included—without Shaggy or Velma noticing. Meanwhile, the mummy reappears, demanding the coin before Velma can finish her analysis. While the two humans flee the room in an improvised smokescreen, Scooby is left behind, and the duo only realize as Daphne and Fred rejoin them. The room is empty except for evidence of a struggle, and a window is left open in the back. Fred worries that he’ll end up like the Professor and Dr. Najib...

...and sure enough, the gang discover a stone Scooby back outside. As Shaggy mourns the loss of his friend, the real Scooby digs his way up out of the ground to join him in tearfully weeping over the sad scene.

“Look, Scoob! You’ve been turned to stone!”

Rather than questioning Scooby about what happened to him, the gang decide to backtrack and ignore the great huge clue right in front of them.

Investigating the Professor’s office, Velma learns that Ankha was also the wealthiest ruler of ancient Egypt, and thinks she’s discovered the solution to the mystery of the coin, finding a photo of a statue of a hippo-headed figure that may or may not be a badly rendered representation of the goddess Taweret (understandably lacking the usual large sagging breasts of images of that deity; this is a kids’ show). The likeness of the coin appears with some other symbols on the statue’s belly, but just as the gang realize it, Ankha busts down the office door.

Retreating to the second floor, the gang duck into the wood shop, where—i’m sorry, why is there a WOOD SHOP in a university’s DEPARTMENT OF ARCHAEOLOGY?

Fred tells Daphne to hit the lights so  that they can hide in the darkness of a room full of sharp objects and heavy machinery, but Daphne hits the wrong switch and turns on a handheld, corded buzz saw that spins to life and climbs up the wall by cutting through the surface of it.

Now, in addition to majoring in anthropology and library science, i took an elective class in the extremely well-appointed woodworking facility at SUNY Purchase College, and i have at least a basic sense of shop safety. So i speak from something of a position of experience when i say, WHY WOULD YOU PUT THOSE SWITCHES NEXT TO EACH OTHER?

As the saw cuts across the ceiling, back down the wall, and past the mummy, it moves on to circle the gang, cutting through the floor and sending the gang dropping down to the floor below... where there’s a swimming pool. 

WHAT KIND OF ARCHAEOLOGY DEPARTMENT IS THIS? A WOOD SHOP? A SWIMMING POOL? WHO DESIGNED THIS COLLEGE, MC ESCHER?

The enraged mummy tosses the saw down at the gang, and its improbably long power cord reaches far enough that the saw moves through the water, chasing the gang as they paddle for their lives. Kudos to the saw’s manufacturers for so extensively waterproofing it, but i really don’t think a 100 meter power cord is a necessity.

Continuing to flee the mummy, Shaggy and Scooby enter the construction area from before, stumbling into a work space where Shaggy notices bags of “Quick Drying Mold Cement”, and “spray molds” that actually appear to be just wooden crates with cement poured in around an empty space in the shape of a standing human being.

“Ruh-huh!” Scooby replies. You could’ve told them that, Scooby. It would have been helpful.

I’ll note that the mold is in the shape of someone standing or laying straight, and all the “stone” figures we’ve seen so far were sitting down. This is what happens when you don’t communicate plot details to your art department, people.

The mummy of Ankha catches up, and the boys flee into a groundskeeper’s shack. When Shaggy peeks out to see if the coast is clear, however...

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Yes, for the love of god.

Ankha continues to demand the coin, but meanwhile, Scooby and Shaggy find the Professor bound, gagged, and stuffed into a bag in the corner. Shaggy pulls down his gag, and asks, “are you alright, Professor?”

“I’m fine!”

“Groovy,” Shaggy replies, putting the gag back in place. “Be back for you later.”

The duo make their escape and the chase scene starts up again, now involving a ride on an improbably speedy lawnmower through an empty gymnasium, and a bit more in the way of trampoline antics. This show loves trampoline antics. Mid-bounce, Scooby, grabs onto a pair of gymnastics rings, and uses his hind legs to kick the mummy across the gym, dunking his bandaged butt into the basketball hoop.

It’s stuff like this that led to the Globetrotters crossovers, i’m sure.

The gang unmask "Ankha”, who, as i’d spoiled ahead of time, is Dr. Najib. He had faked his own petrification as part of a plan to get his hands on the coin—actually the key to the statue in the photo from the book. The gang and the Professor discover that a slot on the back of the statue serves as the keyhole, because apparently no-one was ever diligent enough to examine the back side of this stone figure, and its mouth opens to reveal a “glass beetle”.

Not quite, says the Professor.

There’s no resolution about what happens to this obscenely large “diamond”, identified as such at a glance without any kind of testing of its hardness. Scooby finds the whereabouts of the real mummy of Ankha, and the gang celebrate as Dr. Najib is probably in the midst of arguing his diplomatic immunity somewhere downtown.

And once again, no “meddling kids”, not even a scene of the authorities arriving. All we see of Najib unmasked is the usual silent, glaring fuming, and the explanation falls to the gang and the Professor relaxing calmly in the epilogue.

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order)

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Wanted Fandoms: Overwatch | Harry Potter Characters: Gabriel Reyes, Angela Ziegler, Jack Morrison, Lily Potter Tags: Cheating trope, cheating, established r76, pre-fall, consequences of cheating, references to dubious consent/technical rape, drunken sex with a sober partner type rape references Summary: Gabriel didn’t know. He kind of blew up before he had the chance to find out, but that wasn’t an excuse. Gabriel couldn’t count it as an excuse because he could’ve tried to at least check in. Now, a mercenary, a killer, an assassin, and suddenly he finds himself...well, dealing with this shit. Talon is definitely not the best place to raise a kid. An undead smoke monster filled with rage is definitely not fit to be a dad, but here he is, dealing with this shit. Fuck.

Gabriel woke up face first in a hotel bed to a pounding headache reminiscent of his days in SEP. He grunted and rubbed at his forehead, tried to ease back the pain while he shifted into a seated position. Dimly he noted that he was naked, not exactly an unusual occurrence—most days Gabriel tended to sleep naked anyway, or at least in his underwear, since he spent more hours than he’d like in tactical gear. He also noted how his mouth was dry and tasted of stale alcohol as his head throbbed worse.

“What the fuck did I do last night…” he growled in Spanish under his breath and rubbed at his eyes.

“Here.”

Gabriel blinked to see a glass of water offered to him, held by a rather dainty looking hand. He jerked back, scrambled to cover himself with the sheet, and looked up to see a striking red headed young woman. Hazily she crossed Gabriel’s memory; he must’ve met her last night then.

“For the hangover,” she said softly, although her lips curled up in amusement. Her voice held a British lilt to it, not unlike ‘Tracer,’ but not the same either. Gabriel flushed when he noticed she wore a robe and not much else, and then paled when he realized the implications.

“Fffuck me,” he hissed between his teeth, and gratefully accepted the glass of water. Gabriel waved off the pills she offered him. Most medications didn’t work the same since SEP. He bowed over the glass and hissed out another soft curse of, “Shit,” under his breath. She wore a ring.

Jack was going to kill him.

Gabriel took a sip of the water and kept his gaze firmly off to the side. “I…am afraid I don’t remember your name,” he muttered.

She just smiled wryly and sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. “I’m not surprised. You were rather intent on getting plastered last night.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Lily,” Lily said after a moment of silence.

“Gabriel,” Gabriel grunted and took another sip of water. “Don’t…remember much of last night.” Gabriel winced at how that sounded and focused on the glass of water.

“We shagged,” Lily shrugged, as if it weren’t a rather big deal.

Gabriel winced. “Married?”

Lily smiled tightly and fiddled with her ring. “Of a sort. It’s…”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into an awkward sort of silence. Gabriel sipped the water carefully, tried to ignore the way his head throbbed incessantly, and definitely refused to think about how utterly pissed off Jack would be when he finally made his way back to Switzerland. Technically he shouldn’t even be in London, being the Commander of Blackwatch and the brits ban on Overwatch agents, especially after the incident with Null Sector less than three weeks ago.

“I should apologize,” Lily said softly.

“Hmm?” Gabriel looked up at her with a furrowed brow.

“I…was not drunk last night.”

Oh. Well. Gabriel grimaced at the implication and shook his head.

“Forget it,” he sighed. “Probably would’ve fucked anyone if I was that bad off. Rather it’d be someone sober, I guess.”

“Makes it kind of worse though, doesn’t it?”

Gabriel breathed out through his nose heavily. “Yeah. Just a little.”

Shit this was a right mess, wasn’t it. Jack was definitely going to have his head; Ana too once she got word of the mess. Gabriel flopped back onto the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. What was done was done, which meant he’d have to deal with the fallout either way. Not like his relationship with Jack could get any more sour anyway, right? Pretentious bastard that he was.

Gabriel could feel his headache already clearing up. Thank small mercies of the mess SEP tossed his way, although he had to wonder just what he drank. Most alcohol only effected him minorly these days, unless he wanted to suffer liver failure from alcohol poisoning. At least he didn’t do anything more than just sex—and that brought him up short. Gabriel sat up, ramrod straight.

“Did we use protection?” he looked over at Lily, wide-eyed and a little frantic. Dear god let him have actually used some sort of protection. He couldn’t have been that far gone, right?

Lily winced, and Gabriel spat out another curse. He buried his face into his hands and whined into them. Fuck Jack would really kill him; Ana would be right behind. Gabriel didn’t even want to think what Angela might do to him too.

“I uh didn’t exactly think about that,” Lily said weakly. “Wasn’t exactly planning on this, you know?”

“Yeah.” The words came out muffled between his hands. Gabriel sucked in a steadying breath and drew them down his face. “Shit.”

“It’s not that bad, right?”

Gabriel winced, grimaced, and shook his head frustratedly.

“I need to make a call,” he mumbled. He quickly wrapped the sheets around himself—Lily snorted, muttered something about she already saw it all why bother—and started hunting for his pants, his hoodie, anything. His Overwatch designated communicator was in one of those, if only he could find it. “Where are my clothes?”

“Entryway,” Lily said lightly.

Gabriel quickly made his way to the entryway, the sheet trailed behind him, and found his clothes piled at the door. He could see Lily’s in the bathroom—they were ripped, a complete mess. Gabriel ground his teeth. Fucking hell. He quickly rifled through to find his communicator and sighed with relief as soon as he grasped it. He quickly pulled up the screen, flicked through his contacts, and then pressed send.

It took only a few seconds before Angela answered.

“Gabriel?” Angela questioned the minute she picked up. “Is something wrong? Wait, are you naked?”

“Yeah uh,” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck and slumped against the door. “Don’t yell at me, Ang, but I’m kind of in the shitter.”

Angela rubbed her eyes and groaned softly.

“Do you need medical attention?” she questioned.

“No. Uh, no I’m good,” Gabriel winced. “It’s…fuck. I’m in London.”

“Gabriel Reyes what are you doing in London!?” Angela practically shrieked. Her accent grew more pronounced, face stern as she stared at him. Gabriel winced.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Lily asked quietly.

“Mein gott Gabriel who is that?! What did you do?!”

Lily looked surprised Angela could hear her and Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck this was a complete mess.

“I may or may not have gotten completely trashed, Ang.” Gabriel sucked in a short breath. “And slept with…her.”

Lily looked rather abashed, embarrassed and guilty. Gabriel wanted to reassure her that no, Angela was not his girlfriend, but his doctor. Technically. Except perhaps the woman should be guilty since she was married, entirely sober, and slept with a drunk man.

“You used protection, right?” Angela sounded cold. Gabriel winced. She started cursing in German, aware that that single gesture meant a solid no. As soon as she ran out of steam she slumped, sighed, and said softly. “I have to tell Jack.”

“I know.”

“He’s not going to be happy.”

“I know, Ang,” Gabriel grumbled. “He’s going to kill me.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t be so melodramatic. Yell at you, sure. Maybe throw a punch or two. You did sleep with a woman.”

“Fuck you.”

“Thank you kindly but no,” Angela replied dryly. “Musclebound six feet tall men are not my type.”

“Fuck you anyway,” Gabriel growled.

“Get dressed. Jack will probably call the minute I tell him,” Angela warned. “Answering naked will just piss him off more.”

“Fuck, Angela, I’m well aware how much this’ll piss off Jack, thank you,” Gabriel grunted. “Stop reminding me. I fucked up.”

Angela snorted. “I’m not your therapist, Gabe, but as your friend? Grovel.”

“No amount of fucking groveling is going to get through to that pandejo,” Gabriel mumbled. “Fucking pissy white boy.”

“He’s under a lot of stress.”

“So am I.”

Angela sighed. “Get dressed, Gabe.”

Gabriel waved his hand, flicked the end call button and dropped the communicator. He buried his face in his hands again, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed heavily. He gathered up his clothes and looked for a safe place to change. After a minute’s debate he chose the closet.

“I take it she’s not your girlfriend then?” Lily asked cautiously.

Gabriel grunted as he tugged on his boxers and then his pants. “No. Ang is my physician.”

“You called your physician,” Lily said dryly.

“Yeah. So?” Gabriel muttered, tugged on his hoodie. He stepped out and started looking for his beanie. It had to be around here somewhere—not in the entryway, so he headed back toward the bed and started riffling through the sheets.

“Why?”

“Lotta fucking questions you got there,” Gabriel grunted.

Lily sighed and sat down at the table. “Sorry. Curious. It’s none of my business.”

Gabriel grunted again, let out a breathy sigh of relief as he found his beanie. He tugged the thing on over his hair—fucking hell he needed a damned shower. Oh well, too late for that now. Jack would call any minute. Gabriel glanced to Lily.

“Uh, look,” he said carefully, “Jack’s…going to demand I bring you in.”

Lily arched an eyebrow. “Bring me in?” she drawled slowly, almost incredulously, and Gabriel winced.

“Yeah. It’s…” Gabriel sighed and sat down on the bed. “It’s not a bad thing. Just. Precautionary.”

“Precautionary,” Lily parroted.

Gabriel grunted again and rubbed at his neck tiredly. “Fuck yeah precautionary.” He glanced up at Lily. “Ang is gonna have to check you out. Make sure nothing’s…yeah.”

“And why would she have to do that?” Lily frowned. “You don’t have some sort of STI or something, do you?”

“Fuck no!” Gabriel burst out, eyes wide. “I mean, shit. Okay. Look it’s fucking.” Gabriel grimaced. “I can’t talk about it. There’s some paperwork, and some other shit, and. Fuck this is a mess. It’s just—”

“Precautionary,” Lily murmured, although she frowned, looked rather contemplative to Gabriel.

“Dios mío,” Gabriel grumbled. “It’s the worst fucking kept secret and I still can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Lily shook her head. “I understand,” she said tiredly. Something about the way she said it told Gabriel she honestly did understand. He frowned. A random civilian shouldn’t understand something like this. He’d have to run a background check on her once he got back to Switzerland. Screw being on suspended—if he ended up fucking some sort of terrorist or enemy agent he’d rather know so it couldn’t be used against him.

“Yeah. So you’ll have to go with me to Switzerland,” Gabriel said tiredly, and that’s where Lily exploded. She burst out of the seat, face stormy.

“Switzerland!?” she demanded. Gabriel leaned back on the bed, rather surprised at the sudden burst of temper. “I can’t bloody well travel to Switzerland! You’re completely mad if you think I will. Bring your doctor here if you need to!”

Gabriel frowned, then grunted, “Can’t.”

“Why not?” Lily snapped through gritted teeth.

“Technically illegal,” Gabriel shrugged. “No Overwatch operatives are allowed in Britain.”

All of a sudden Lily seemed to completely deflate. She muttered a faint, “Oh,” and it clicked. She fiddled with her ring and looked away. After a minute Lily slumped back down into the chair. “I…I’ll need to get a hold of James,” she said softly. “He….”

“Probably best if your husband comes too,” Gabriel replied. “Just…just in case.”

Lily looked at him, concerned. “That bad?” she asked.

“No,” Gabriel shook his head. “It’s just—”

“Precautionary,” Lily finished for him. “Okay.” She sucked in a fortifying breath. “Okay. I…I’ll go get James and…what time should we be back here?”

“Check out.”

“Noon then,” Lily said. She stared off to the side. Gabriel frowned.

“He gonna be mad? You gonna be okay?” Gabriel asked.

Lily shook her head. “Oh I’ll be fine. James isn’t…” she trailed off, then grimaced. “I’ll be okay.” Gabriel nodded slowly, and resolved to perform a background check on this James as well. Best to get the whole picture after all. A second later Lily stood. “Right. Right. I’ll…go then.”

“Probably best,” Gabriel agreed. “Jack’s gonna be…yeah it’s best you’re not here for that. Just, back at noon.”

Lily stared at him a second, and then her mouth fell open in realization. “Oh. He’s your boyfriend?”

Gabriel grimaced. “Something like that.” Lily stared at him a moment longer, and to fill the silence he repeated, “Back at noon.”

Lily shook herself. “Right. Back at noon,” she agreed, and slipped off to the bathroom. A couple minutes later she came back out dressed, and left the room. Gabriel’s communicator rang right after that.

Gabriel let it ring for a second, groaned, and headed over to pick the damn thing up. He flicked the answer button and sat back down on the bed.

“Gabriel.”

“What the fucking hell got into your head, Reyes, that you’d travel to fucking London when you know there’s a ban on Overwatch—”

Gabriel sighed. Yup, he was completely, utterly, fucked.

[aviationfiction]

XV

Autumn Dupont

“Step through please ma’am.”

I slowly brushed my trembling hands over the upper portion of my body, stopped midway, and gently patted the pockets of my form fitting denim shorts. With a deep breath, I walked through the body scanner and stood on the other side awaiting the bucket filled with my possessions to slide through the second scanner. The police officer standing just a couple inches away from myself stared in a knowing manner; they all do. He didn’t open his mouth to speak or say anything absurd but I’m assured in my assumptions about his thoughts and what he’s biting his tongue over. This famous city thrives on various attributes; South Beach being one of them, but the men who leave their blood, sweat, and tears on the court in the American Airlines Arena are the heart of it. People of all walks of life crowd into that building to experience the loose fun of the regular season, the electrifying playoffs, and if they’re lucky, the gut wrenching finals where either victorious confetti and golden trophies are handed out or tears and disappointment leave the entire building silenced until the next season. I’ve been amongst it all, often having professional cameras snapping away at me, or game goers unknowingly turning me into D-List Miami celebrity by asking for photographs. I’ve met the celebrities, I’ve been introduced to the executives, and I’ve sat amongst the wealthy all for the sake of supporting my husband and it has left it’s lasting affects not only on myself but just as much on the city. My husband’s no mayor or governor but I’ve been stupidly called “The First Lady of Miami” by women much older than myself although Gabrielle Union and Savannah James’ husbands have far more importance within this city than any coach, staffer, political figure, or musician. Well, Lebron is no longer here but the two championships he gave to this city hold their significance. As selfish as it may sound, I felt the affects of his decision to return home to Cleveland far more than anyone else in this city. My husband mourned the loss of his star player far more than he mourned the demise of our marriage.

“Here you are Mrs. Harrington.” We made eye contact when he boldly used my formal name and I swiftly grabbed the bold violet cross body bag out of his hand purposefully making sure skin to skin contact never happened.

“I have a mediation session. Can you direct me to where those take place?”

“You take the elevator to the second floor, make a left once you step out of the elevator, and walk down the hall. The office is at the end of the hall. You won’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

The sound of my heels ceaselessly striking the mahogany marble flooring flooded my ears far more than the voices surrounded me and I allowed the leather chain strap of my bag to fall over my shoulders as I neared the elevator. As my finger tapped the button, a silent prayer was all that I could think of. I’d been standing alone and if God favors me, I’ll continue to stand alone as I’m enclosed inside of the confined space. A faint ding sounded off and I watched the heavy doors slowly open; bringing a crowd of six people into my line of view. As they filtered out, I quickly stepped inside and pressed the silver second floor button. The thrashing of my heart slowly began to ease itself as the doors began to close and within a second, my blessing was cut short.

“Whew! I’m glad I caught it. Excuse me.” As I stepped aside, the fair skinned woman tap the button for the third floor and tiredly leaned against the wall to catch her breath. As her chest heavily heaved in and out, she slightly turned her head to the side and her eyes panned down to my feet.

“Cute shoes girl.” Her eyes remained locked on the luminous yellow leather printed sandals and her body instinctively leaned forward so she’d be able to get a decent look at the tone-on-tone decorative bows and feathers; added on for a touch of extravagance and eccentricity.

“Love your top too.” She gazed over the lavender and white checkerboard patterned top and nodded her head to further make note of her approval. It’s deep v-neck framed the material off both of my shoulders and the exaggeratedly ruffled short sleeves fell over my arms. The cropped hem wrap around design showcased a hint of skin from my stomach and the bow I’d made with the loose ends rested perfectly on my side. I put effort into the look; the best style effort I’d put forth in quite some time. I prided myself on looking good for my husband; always wanting him to be proud to have me on his arm and to never need to turn his gaze to any other woman. While I wasn’t the typical kept woman who visited high end department stores many days out of the week, purchasing the latest and most expensive pieces from top of the line designers, I did make sure to go maybe two or three times a month to make sure I kept myself up to par. Despairingly, I felt like my closet full of garb was purposeful for game nights rather than date nights. The Agent Provocateur and La Perla pieces ultimately served as typical undergarments rather than sex driven flimsy pieces of material I so badly wanted Andreas to anxiously peel off of me. Today, I’d like for him to do a double take and realize I am the same woman he vowed his life to and inevitably destroyed. He was my Dre and I was his Bella, the woman whose picture he carried around in his wallet despite having a smartphone. I am the one. I was the one.

“Thanks.”

The double doors opened as soon as the elevator stopped and I bid the friendly woman a wave as I stepped outside of it. I glanced back and forth between both ends of the hall and made the left turn as instructed. The more I neared the fate of what was behind the door, the eager I was to turn around and continue to avoid this entire process. Courtesy of Issac, I’d been in communication with Sorrell Trope ever since Joanne’s ambush and he’s been handling the logistics of my divorce. He informed me that he represented Britney Spears, Nicole Kidman, Hugh Grant, Nicolas Cage and cheerily boasted about his most recently high profile case; representing Elin Nordegren in her divorce from Tiger Woods. He’d already submitted requests for disclosures and production of Andreas’ bank statements, statements of income, and numerous other documents I’d never seen throughout our six years of marriage. I can’t even began to tell you what the man is worth or what he owns besides our home, his mother’s home, and the two cars sitting in our garage. It never mattered. Frankly, it still doesn’t.

“Mrs. Harrington?” The stocky woman sitting behind the off black desk adjusted her thick glasses and checked off something on the paper sitting in front of her without ever confirming if her assumption was correct or not.

“Yes. I’m Autumn Harrington.”

“You’re all set up in the room over there. Your husband arrived about fifteen minutes ago. There’s paper and pens in the room if you should need them. This is a private mediation which means that there will be a charge per session where as a court ordered medication is of no cost. This mediation is confidential. Anything mentioned within the walls of that room can and will stay within the walls of that room unless you or your husband should decide otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Okay then. Also, the mediator is running a little late due to car trouble but she did say that she’ll be here within the next fifteen to twenty minutes; possibly sooner. I asked your husband if he would like to reschedule but he informed me that he’s okay with waiting. Will that be a problem for you?” Andreas and I, alone in a room together? The last time that happened I was sent home in tears.

“It’s fine. I can wait.”

“Okay then. Go ahead right in. She should be here soon.”

She turned around in her chair and lazily rolled over to the file cabinet to dismiss my presence and I proceeded in the direction she pointed in. As I opened the door, I immediately spotted Andreas standing at the opposite side of a wooden table and a window, which I’m sure I may consider jumping out of a ton of times before this first session is completed. His baby blue collared shirt was button down three bottoms from the top and in his usual fashion, he rolled up the sleeves until the cuffs were snug around his elbows.

I could barely stand to look him as he stood there, slightly shuffling, with his hands stuff down into the pockets of his khaki pants. His beautiful ocean blue eyes peered into mine and my heartbeat didn’t speed up in anticipation of his touch or a kiss, instead my stomach felt like it’d been dropped into a bottomless pit; free falling with my emotions tied to the tail end of it. To say I feel disparaged would be an understatement.  I used to be able to immediately feel the love between he and I as soon as either one of us entered a room and now there’s this eerie nothingness that radiates from his frame and harshly penetrates my reality. I will never understand how we ended up with this fate and there is nothing a mediator, lawyer, or even he can say to change that.

There are two seats left; the one facing Andreas and one placed at the head of the table which I’m sure is for the mediator. I have no choice but to sit across from him and allow the very eyes I fell in love with to scold me.

As I plotted down into the chair, I rested my hands on the table directly across from his own and our empty ring fingers turned into the focus of my attention. Rather than verbally greeting me, he gently ran his hand over my own and gave it a small squeeze. The gesture wasn’t one of comfort or sincerity, it was one of assurance; assurance that this is what he wants and needs from me.

“Hey Bella.”

Silence.

The ticking sound of the circular antique clock mounted on the wall was louder than any breathing or movement we made. As I glanced up at him, it became obvious he’d been waiting  for me to say something first and quite frankly, I’m speechless with rage.

“You’re waiting for me to speak? You’re divorcing me. You should be doing all of the talking here. Not I.”

“Please don’t start that. Let’s just keep this peaceful. I’m not here to fight with you. I don’t want to fight with you whatsoever. We’re two adults here. You and I can sit down and have a conversation without coming at one another’s throats. There’s no need for that.” He sat back in his seat and grimaced at the smug expression on my face.

“You have a lot of nerve telling me what there is no need for. You’re telling me that? The man with the new family?”

His jaw tightened. I used to love when that happened. I’d purposefully do or say something to anger him all for the sake of attention. His frustrations were the turn on that I often needed. Sometimes he’d take care of it; often times my index and middle fingers did the trick.

“We’re not here to talk about my unborn child or Amber. This is about us. Why are you taking this in a direction that has nothing to do with any of this?”

“But it has everything to do with this. Are you kidding me? We’re married. If you should walk out of this door today and something happens to you, do you know who’s responsible? It will not be your mother nor will it be that woman you’re involved with. It’ll be me. I know given the circumstances that happened to me nearly two years ago you may not understand that concept but that’s how it works. I am responsible for you until a judge signs those documents and dissolutes our marriage and vise versa. So for you to sit here as an engaged man with a wife, you must be out of your got damn mind if you believe that plays no part in why we’re sitting here today.”

“Yeah, well, you know what Autumn? This is a mediation. We’re not in marriage counseling. The mediator will be here to make sure we figure out what we want and what we don’t want so that we can move forward with the divorce. Luckily we have no children so there’s no need to discuss living arrangements, child support, nor custody. That makes this process far easier than it usually is.”

“Luckily?” On the ride here, I ran three different scenarios of how this session would go and I made mental notes, strategies, and promises to myself about how I’d handle all of them. In each, there was one rule: Do not cry. I’ve cried enough. I’d go to bed crying and I’d wake up with either tear stains on my face or tears rolling down my cheeks. I’d cry in the shower and stick my face into the water to manipulate myself into believing that it was nothing more than water droplets trickling down my face. I’d cry during physical therapy, personal therapy, breakfast, lunch, during my runs. Name any place, time, or location, and I’m sure as some point there were tears either threatening to fall or streaming down my face. It was a result of keeping everything bottled within. It was the only coping mechanism I had. As I slowly began to open up to Dr. Jill, the need to cry transitioned into a lot of thinking. The weekly assignments she’s been giving me helped tremendously and yet here I am, falling apart. My eyes began to burn as I tried my best to withhold them but gravity and my overdriven emotions defeated me.

“That’s not how I meant it, I…Autumn. Let’s not make one another upset.”

“How many times are going to say that? Should I expect that statement any and every time you say something that you know is either insulting or hurtful? I am not perfect but I didn’t do anything wrong to you Andreas. I don’t deserve to be spoken to that way nor do I deserve any insults that you may have for me. Think before you speak. First you dismissed your new life having anything to do with why we’re here today and now you’re feeling lucky because you and I never had children together though you know I wanted to have a child more than anything you could have ever given me. What’s next? You’re on a roll.”

“You know what, I apologize. I honestly didn’t mean it in the way you took it.”

“Yes you did.” I glanced over at the window, taking in what I could of the scenery and left him to drill a hole into the side of my neck with his eyes.

“Can we talk about the house?”

“What about it?

“Both of our names are on the deed to it and we agreed upon co-owning it from the very beginning. I don’t want to fight about it nor do I want to turn it into an ongoing back and forth. I am willing to give you the house. As of two years ago, the house is paid for in full. All you’d have to worry about are the properly taxes, the upkeep of the house, and any additional utility bills. You spent more time inside of that home than I did and you handled the interior and exterior design of every single aspect of the house. It's only right that it should be yours. ”

“You seriously believe I want that house? The house that you and another woman are currently living in and have created a child in? My God. You’re ignorant.” I shook my head as a chuckle slipped past my lips and he began to uneasily tap his fingers on the table.

“You don’t want the house?”

“No. I don’t want your house. I don’t even want to live in Miami.”

“Well what about the car? The car is yours. I can have it shipped up to New Jersey within a couple of days if you’d like.”

“I’m not interested. You have both sets of keys to that car so God knows who’s been driving it. No thank you.”

“Autumn, grow the hell up. It’s a freaking car. It gets you from point A to point B. Who gives a damn who’s been driving it? Do you think people sit back and ponder about who’s been driving a used car when they’re at a dealership purchasing them? The car’s in excellence condition. There’s no wear and tear on it. It’s yours. Take it.”

“I don’t want the car. That’s my final decision.” Andreas sat back in his seat, huffed obnoxiously, and glanced over at the same window I’d been staring out of while he offered me these pity gifts. There’s this arrogance slightly slithering through his tone. He believes offering me the house and car is an olive branch in the midst of all of this madness.

“You know what, let’s just cut straight to the point. Twelve million Autumn. We can settle this with our lawyers and get it done. I believe a twelve million dollar settlement is fair. You talked about wanting to return to school and with that, you’d have more than enough money to pay your tuition and live your life comfortably. I love you and I do want what’s best for you.”

Twelve million dollars. I’ve never sat back and attempted to figure out how much I’m worth numerically. How do you calculate those figures? Is it based upon intelligence? Physically capabilities? Liabilities? Were my duties as his wife worth two million dollars per year? How’d he even come up with that estimate? It sounds like such a bribe and a quick figure tossed at me to quickly get this over with but most of all, to get him down the aisle with his fiancee. It’s a payoff without any regard for what I feel or want. It’s a twelve million dollar “thank you for your services, now be gone” notice.

“You love me and you want what’s best for me? Do you really?”

“Yes, I do. Us parting ways doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped caring about you. I’m a human being and you’re the woman I’ve spent just about seven years of my life with. It didn’t work out but that doesn’t mean that everything that we’ve experienced together and gone through is erased from my mind. I do want to see you succeed and be happy despite what you may think about me right now.”

“You love me? Andreas, I’m so tired of you lying to my face. You’re so locked in on what you want for yourself that you can’t even take a step back and realize where you’ve gone wrong. You continue to behave like this divorce is mutual but you know what it’s not, though I wish it were.”

“I am not behaving like it’s mutual. I’m handling it in a peaceful manner.” I laughed. I had to.

“Peaceful? Why couldn’t you handle our marriage peacefully and respectfully? You’re a liar. You lied to me about her. You told me that she was just an old friend and I believed your ass. I stood by you and I believed every word you said to me because I just knew my husband would never do anything to jeopardize what we built together despite whatever issues we may have and you lied. You lied about our issues; painting me as the villain and you as the victim when I tirelessly put up with your shit. I put up with your absence. I dealt with you traveling with that team, being in practice day in and day out, traveling for camp, press, and whatever the hell else you had to do. I didn’t complain. I dealt with your absence while you were here. You’d be right there in front of me and I felt nothing from you. You were like an empty vessel and I just couldn’t get through to you. I didn’t complain.”

“And that’s the problem right there. Maybe you should have. You’re condescending and passive aggressive. Open up your mouth sometimes. You expect people to just get it or get you. You think that everyone’s supposed to automatically understand you, as if you’re some open book. You’re stubborn. You always have been and you always will be. I had to deal with that.” He slammed his hand down on the table, causing it’s wooden legs and the chair at it’s head to rattle in response. His scowl turned into a deep frown and he stared at me, testing me to challenge his statement.

“Open up to a man who doesn’t listen? How could I have opened up to you when all you did was complain? You complained about the job, the team, the city, your previous coaching job in LA, and your busted ass knee that you injured before you and I were together, and yet it somehow became my fault that you cannot play professional basketball. I dealt with you coaching a bunch of men that you quietly envied because you cannot do what they’re doing. You didn’t take that shit out on Lebron and Dwayne. You took it out on me. I dealt with you constantly swallowing pain killers for what you explained as necessary for the so called constant pain within your knee, only for it to turn out that you were physically and mentally dependent on them. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t tell your mother because I didn’t want to ruin her warped ass picture perfect image of you. I kept it a secret while helping you ween off of those shits without rehab. I was your verbal punching bag as you insulted and argued with me daily for and about them. I dealt with your months and months of erectile dysfunction because of you doping yourself up on those pills and then you stressing while I got you off of them. You made me feel unattractive and you blamed me for it. I dealt with you waking up in cold sweats, pacing, obsessing over championships, and crying because your dreams were ruined.” As I stood to my feet, he stared at his hands while they rested on the table. I awaited a response to my truth but I met with his silence. I could feel and hear my heart thumping against my chest as I attempted to catch my breath. The trembling of my hand, matched the tapping of my foot, and the tightening my stomach trekked it’s way up into my esophagus. He’ll be the death of me if I don’t get out of here.

“I dealt with you denying me of the children I so badly wanted. You continued to tell me that we weren’t ready and I contemplated stopping the birth control but I refrained from doing so to honor you. I didn’t want to ruin your trust in me. I stuck by you. That for better or for worse part of our vows played in my head every single day because I firmly believed we hadn’t hit rock bottom yet and if we did, we’d pick up the pieces and rebuild. I stuck by you at some of your worse times and you left me during mine. I don’t want an apology. Twelve million dollars? What I did for you as your wife is priceless. You wouldn’t be able to make enough money over the entire span of your lifetime to repay me for it. Take that twelve million and fucking drown in it.”

The sound of his voice was muffled by the door closing behind me. I could no longer bare to stand another moment within a room filled with his enormous ego, insincerity, and self-interest. That’s not the man I married; the man I’d share cups of hot chocolate with as we humorously observed our surroundings and made conversation about anyone who stepped inside of our cozy little coffee shop. He’s not the one who I’d go and observe as he coached the men’s basketball team just so he’d wink at me or bid me a knowing smile in the midst of him shouting out plays and strategies to bring his team to a win. He’s no longer the man who I didn’t mind being locked up inside of his apartment with; hiding from the world and basking in one another mentally and physically. We dreamed together, mapped out our goals, and worked towards our future. When it felt like the entire world was stacked up against us, we refused to let one another go and would not allow them the victory of ripping what we built into shreds of oblivion. We were a true union; a partnership crafted by God that no man could put asunder.

As I stood in that room with him, I now know that man has died and our romance perished with him.

A slow, cold, and tarnishing death that has left my love as a forsaken widow.

Dim rays from the setting sun filtered through the small opening of the plush white curtains while the faint sound of the ocean’s roaring waves filled the room. My now adjusted eyes panned up to the ceiling and a small yawn slipped past my lips while I attempted the guess the time. I’d been transitioning from sleeping to watching a random marathon of The Brady Bunch on TVLand since my return from the courthouse. I skipped breakfast while physically and mentally preparing myself for the mediation and the interaction with my husband ruined any desire for lunch. I’m sure the only reason why I’m awake is because of hunger. I deliberately took half of an Ambien so I’d be able to sleep throughout the rest of the afternoon and night, but my body or rather mind ruined the strategy. If I spent any more time watching that family while confined to the memory foam mattress, I’m prone to either scream or check out of this place.

With one roll, I reached over and grabbed my iPhone off of the nightstand and checked the time; seven forty five.

I missed one phone call from my mother, surprisingly one from my father, and two text messages from Heather asking me how the mediation went. Had Heather been in Miami with Mario, we would have been together right now having mojitos and stuffing our faces while she profusely slandered Andreas until she couldn’t find anymore words to say. In this instance, I would have allowed her to do it because I could use the laugh and I’m certain she can use yet another moment when she’s able to have a bash fest over the man she deems to be the biggest mistake of my life. She never excuses me for it because of the love, instead she does so because he has a “pretty face with demonic blue eyes”.

After eating, she’d find someway for us to work off the meal by randomly showing up to some club, rooftop, or yacht party she knew about refrained to mention to me. From there, we’d attempt to relive our college days that I cut short and left her heartbroken over. Though she no longer mentions it, I’m still making that up to her. The guilt is still there; not only for her but also because I should have finished my studies. Before we parted our inseparable ways to began our own lives, we should have walked across that stage together but that’s the past. I’m ready and willing to do it alone.

My fingers scrolled along my list of contacts and I hesitantly paused on his name. I hadn’t heard from him since we arrived in Miami. When we landed yesterday evening, we shared a car service to the Mandarin and he informed me that we’d be staying in town an extra day before we parted ways. Throughout the duration of the twenty minute drive from the airport to the hotel, he adamantly spoke with someone on the phone and didn’t hang up until he said those very brief words to me. I don’t know the ins and outs of his life but what’s obvious is how serious he takes what he does for a living. Though he does not live for it nor does he genuinely enjoy it, he admirably conquers all that he has to do without ever breaking a sweat or faltering. He’s powerful while basking in a modest and reserved demeanor that entrances you almost immediately. He’s unrealistic; the impossible. He’s a figment of my imagination manifesting into my reality.

Pizza? It’s Autumn.

I tossed the phone beside myself and my eyes returned to the french vanilla painted ceiling. As I prepared for a lack of a response, my phone faintly vibrated against my skin.

Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. I’ll be near the revolving door.

I wish he’d of said twenty minutes, but I mindfully used the ten he offered to slip back into the shoes I’d been wearing earlier in the day and to run a bit of mousse into the wavy curls I’d been enjoying for the past couple of days. While riding the elevator downstairs, I reapplied my favorite MAC “Spite” lip glass to my lips.

As soon as the doors opened, I made the familiar sharp left and walked through the main entrance of the lobby. Just as he told me, he stood by the revolving door in a casual look that I wasn’t expecting. Since our first encounter with one another, I’ve yet to see him in anything other than a two or three piece designer suit. His slender frame is always masked behind the perfectly tailored material representing not only his professionalism but also his very old school taste. Tonight, he opted for a pair of simple navy blue slacks, a button down dress shirt of the same color, and surprisingly, a pair of sneakers. They’re no Nike or Adidas. He decided on a designer pair to mesh well with his entire look. His right arm adorned a simple gold watch; most likely a Rolex, and he left that as his only accessory. Clean, straight to the point, but highly effective.

“How are you?” I spoke first. He’d been too busy staring at whatever is going on outside to notice me coming.

“I’m well. How about yourself?”

“I’m alive.” He chuckled with a nod of his head.

“I can see that. That’s not telling me how you are though. So, how are you?”

“I’m alright.” He glanced in the direction of the glass doors once more and pointed at the Mercedes Benz a valet stepped out of.

“That’s us right there.”

“You were already down here when I texted you?”

“Yeah, I actually just arrived back from a last minute meeting with the second contractor. I was walking to the elevator as soon as you texted me.” We stepped inside of one section of the revolving door together and he did the pushing until we were outside.

“Were you going to relax?”

“No. I was going upstairs to order room service. You saved me from having to do that.”

He opened up the passenger side door for me and waited until my body was comfortably resting against the maroon leather seats before closing the door. He slipped the valet a twenty dollar bill as his towering body lowered down into the drivers seat and he closed the door behind himself. In unison, we put our seat belt on.

“Any place in particular you want to go?” Lauryn Hill’s soothing whistles notes filled my ears as the infectious beat of Nas’ “If I Ruled The World” vibrated against the cool seats.

“Not really. Pizza is pizza. Visa-O1 is decent. Blocks too.”

“I know a spot. It’s not a pizza place but they definitely serve pizza. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine.”

“Windows up or down?” My eyes followed his hand as it switched the car’s gear into drive and they slowly panned up to his face.

“Down.”

He obliged my answer and immediately began drive down Brickell Key Dr. I thought we’d be taking a local route and would be able to take glances at the melting pot of people having a joyous time outdoors but instead I was left to enjoy the scenic US-1 South for nearly fifteen minutes. By then, I could no longer quietly guess where we were going. In my time of living here, I never familiarized myself with this city as much as I should have. I don’t believe he’s ever lived here and he knows this place far better than I do. I couldn’t give him directions to anywhere beyond the handful of places I frequented. During date nights, Andreas and I usually visited same places and those became our spots to go out and have a bite to eat when we could. For Heather, social media announcements and Google Maps takes her wherever she needs to be down here. She goes wherever the night takes her and can barely recall where exactly that place was in the morning. She actually knows nothing more than the way to Mario’s home and mine. Actually, we know the beach too, but who doesn’t?”

“Is this a private road?” We crossed a bridge that I’d never seen or heard about and the surroundings didn’t ring a bell no matter how many times I looked around to familiarize myself.

“Yeah. This is sort of a beach club. Well, actually it is. It’s called Palmeiras.”

“You have a membership here?”

“Well, not technically. This place is represented by the company and the owner is a nice guy so he welcomed me to come by and enjoy the place whenever I have the time to.”

“So how is it? It looks great from out here.”

“I don’t know. This is my first time coming.” I couldn’t help but to playfully suck my teeth and we shared a laugh over my assuming. He didn’t used the navigation system, took the quickest route, and we arrived without him ever losing the way. It was easy to believe he comes here often.

“You’re such a prankster.”

“Hey, you assumed.”

As we stepped out of the car, I realized we’d come as close the Amalfi Coast as we were going to get. This hidden gem basks in the sweeping, unobstructed view of the stunning Biscayne Bay with a picturesque view and peaceful atmosphere that’s rare to find within this area. It marvels after the French Riviera in taste with hints of Italian and Greek structuring. We’d only been walking along side one another for a couple of minutes and I couldn’t take my eyes off of the extensive amenities and beautiful decor. Unlike any other waterfront restaurant, the views of the Bay from here are paranoramic, dazzling in what feels like a small paradise.

“This is incredible.”

“Fredrick was one of the three architects who designed and worked on this place. Miami is his playground and he’s surely done his part in making some of the more recent structures look incredible.”

“He has a great eye. I’m speechless about the view. My God. My house sits near the bay and I don’t believe the view is this incredible from there.”

“Yeah, he does. He’s excellent at what he does. He has an artistic eye that goes beyond being an architect.”

“I can tell.”

“You want stay outdoors?”

“Yes. I’d love that.”

He only left me for two minutes to have a short conversation hostess and it only took another three for us to be seated a table for two with an unparalleled view of the bay. Though he’d chosen not to drink for driving purposes, I indulged and ordered a peach mojito. The Absolute Peach, Pyrat Rum, and Apricot Liquor would compliment the view of the bay in calming my nerves. Though the Mediterranean style dishes throughout the menu were attention grabbing, I settled on a margarita pizza and he; a chicken sandwich.

“This place is so nice. I can’t believe you don’t come here whenever you’re in town. You sure you haven’t been on a date here?” I playfully raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly shook his head in response to it.

“No. I’m being truthful when I say this is my first time. I don’t understand how you were living here for so long and have never been here.”

“Oh you’d be surprised about all of the places I haven’t been throughout my duration of living here. I’m still a newbie in this town.”

“Were you home sick?”

“Uh. Kind of. I didn’t know anyone other than Andreas so I stuck around my house rather than hanging out with myself all the time. I didn’t make any real friends. I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t become friends with all of the player’s wives but I wasn’t interested. They were pleasant; Savannah, Gabby, Adrienne, and the others, but I just kept to myself. Heather visited every now and then and we hung out a bit, but it still wasn’t enough for me to know and learn a lot around here.” I took my second sip of the chilled drink and nearly sighed in bliss as it steadily slipped down my throat.

“I like it here; not to live but it’s a nice place to hang out. I usually have fun when the guys and I make a trip down here together.”

“You said it’s Fredrick’s playground right?”

“Yeah, but not in the manner that it used to be. He’s locked down now. He’s in love but don’t let him know I told you that.” He chortled at the thought of his best friend and his possible disdain for that statement.

“Oh, he’s fronting about it?”

“Big time.”  

“What about your other friend Mike?”

“Mike’s a chill guy. He’s the joker out of all three of us and the big mouth. Honestly, I don’t know what’s up with him. I think he’s seeing someone. He’s secretive with that type of shit though. You don’t know until he wants you to know. He’d rather be in everyone else’s business, especially mine.” It was my turn to laugh when a frown appeared on his face. If anything Mike to him is what Heather is to me; obnoxiously nosy and a know it all.

“He’s always in your personal business?”

“Hell yeah. He asks a lot of questions. Fredrick will set me up on blind dates.”

“Blind dates? So they’re like match dot com for you?”

“Yeah, in the worse way.”

“As annoying as it sounds, I’m sure it’s just their way of caring about you. They want to see you happy and I think that’s cute.”

“Cute?” He curved his lips to the right and jerked his head back. “Yeah right. What about you?”

“Well, Heather used to try that in high school and at our early beginnings of college but it literally never worked out. I was the master of the curve back then and rather awkward if I must say so myself. I developed late, had a big ol’ forehead. I said that like it vanished. Anyway, I had no boobs or butt. I was kind of a tomboy and eventually shed that as I became older. By the time I was ready to date, I fell for one man and he became my first….everything. So all of that was cut short.”

“How did today go?” I didn’t expect that question after my answer and I nearly finished the rest of the drink as flashbacks of today’s courthouse nightmare played in my head.

“That bad huh?” He didn’t need an answer. I just nodded.

“We don’t have to talk about it. It’ll all turn out for the best. Just believe that.”

“I’m trying to.”

“It will. You want to go back to talking about my dull ass dating life? I don’t mind talking about it.” And just like that, he flared up yet another fit of laughter from me.

“Why do you call it dull?”

“Because it is. Everyone knows that.”

“When was your last girlfriend?”

“Uh, it was during my days at Columbia. Jessica. We dated for three months.”

“How long was your longest relationship?”

“Three months.”

“You’re lying.” I snickered until I nearly choked on the sip of the peach cocktail. He smirked while shaking his head and I glared at him awaiting his admission to that lie.

“I had a situation with someone that lasted a couple of months but it was no relationship. It was an agreement. Samira.”

“So Samira was alright with you two just….having sex?” I playfully side eyed him. “With no strings attached?”

“Yeah. We went out on dates occasionally but it never turned into anything serious though we played with the idea of it. I never met her family and she just so happened to meet my mother because we randomly ran into her. It wasn’t something that I wanted.”

“What did your mom say?”

“She was excited because there was finally some spice in my dull ass love life.”

“Stop calling it that.” Each time he said it I laughed. There was a playfulness in his tone that made it all the more funny. If he can turn something like this into a joke, I don’t see why anyone else can’t. The dating world can be hilarious. Heather and Rachel have stories that are amusing enough to leave you with both a headache and bellyache.

“And then you two parted ways?”

“Yeah. She’s engaged now……and then there’s me.” He snickered as I continued to laugh at his “sob story”. He seems content with his relationship status. I don’t get a lonely vibe from him. I can tell that he’s a loner by nature; not desperate for company, attention, or aggravation.

“Well, you don’t have to be single. There are women awaiting a chance. Before I even knew who you were, Rachel would sit at the desk and verbally lust over you. It’s not just her either. The women in that building and over at Meridian lust when you walk through those doors. You and your brother.” Dante impishly cut his eyes at me and I nodded my head with a smile to assure him that I’m telling no fibs. The Legend Of The St. James Brothers is famous within the companies.

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true. They turn into high school girls when you walk in with your designer suits on and your oxford shoes. The leather briefcase takes it over the edge. They giggle, whisper, and come up with all types of scenarios that they’re never going to execute because they’re too afraid to ask you out. You’re also very poised. There’s no exact way to approach you without the fear of looking foolish.” My eyes shamelessly followed his tongue as he ran it over his bottom lip and he shrugged his shoulders. We hadn’t touched our food since the waitress place it down in front of us.

“I don’t come there for that.”

“Your brother flirts.”

“With you?” He leaned forward just a bit and I shook my head.

“With everyone, honestly.”

“He’s married.”

“Oh, I know. Seems like I’m the only one who does know.”

“If he had it his way, no one would know.”

“You two are polar opposites.” It was his turn to finally sip his drink; a Sprite.

“Yes.”

“Are you close despite that?”

“No.” I finally grabbed a slice of the personal pizza and took a small bite out of it as he continued to stare at me. I expected him to finally take a bite out of his chicken sandwich but he didn’t.

“You work very hard. I’ve picked up on that ever since we flew down here for the first time together. You nearly bit my head off that day.” He grimaced; causing a snicker to slip past my lips. “What do you do to relax?”

“Play basketball, watch sports center for an hour or two. I’ll hang out with the fellas. That's about it.”

“You don't go on vacations?”

“No, not really. It’s funny that you mention that. My mother is pushing for this huge family vacation and I'm avoiding it like a plague.”

“Why?” He smirked. I wouldn’t mind vacationing with my parents for as long as Issac doesn’t attend it. I’m convinced we’d most likely try to drown one another at some point.  

“Because it won't be a vacation. It'd be seven days of horror. I’d rather not.”

“Well, what about with your friends?”

“They don't like going on exotic vacations without women, which is fine and I get it. They’re at that stage in their lives where companionship is important. We went out to L.A. with one another not too long ago and we come down here every now and then. That’s our vacations together. There’s work and a bit of play.”

“You need to enjoy your life and enjoy the fruits of your labor. There’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make you arrogant or wasteful to splurge on something that will be beneficial and relaxing for you. You give back to God and the universe more than enough. You should allow God and the universe to give back to you. You haven’t been blessed with all of your success only for you to ignore it and overwork yourself. You should have some fun. I’m not the best at advice but I mean well when I speak.”

“I know you mean well and that advice is something that I’ll take into consideration. You’re not the first person to say it to me but you’re the first person to mention God within it. You’re Christian.”

“I am. I’m no church girl. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve gone to church. That’s probably why I’m a mess now.” My eyes panned to the moonlighted calm waters. “But I know he’s looking out for me; looking out for all of us. I questioned him quite a bit over these last two years because I just knew he was reeking havoc on my life but my aunt Sharon always told me if he brings you to it, he’ll bring you through it. I’m here. My story isn’t over. I still have my life, as my boss told me.” I winked at him and he nodded his head with a small chuckle. His lax body enthralled my own and I too relaxed into my seat and leaned against the back of the white chair.

“I own a home in Malibu. Only three people know about it; Mike, Fred, and Stacey. I had it built over the last couple of years. I’d been dreaming of having a huge house of my own since I was a kid. By the time I was eighteen, I began to save up for it and ever since then I’ve been working to be able to afford it. It’s completed now and as of a couple of months ago, it’s fully furnished.”

“So you’re moving out of New York?”

“No. I haven’t stayed in the house and I don’t plan to, at least not yet. The week we were in California, I went there, and as beautiful as the house is, it doesn’t feel like home yet. It felt empty with me standing in it. That tells me that I have a lot of unfinished business to handle and more to accomplish before I can settle my life there. That house will be my relaxation. It’ll be me enjoying the fruits of my labor. I have to wait though. It’s all in God’s timing right?”

“I’d say so. How long do you think it’ll take you to feel and be ready? A couple of months? A year?”

“I’ll be ready when it’s worth it in every single way possible. I can’t estimate how long that will be but I’m willing to wait.”

The moonlight glimmered in his unfathomable deep brown eyes as the confidence within his statement rattled me. In his reserved manner, he’s so assured in himself and what he wants. I mistook him to be still finding his way much like I am but he already knows the way. He’s practical and sensible with just enough assertiveness; unbelievable and yet so tangible. Vulnerable.

My eyes traced his jawline as he stared at the view that took my breath away upon our arrival.

Unreal.