#i’m tired of not being able to spend money on myself without feeling guilty at my balance going down

[transmechanicus]

Sometimes it’s very important to go to bed at 8pm

[wouldduskwood]

Descendants of Despair Part 55

Phil had his head down. He looked gaunt compared to the photos I had seen of him. When he reached our table, he lifted his head and his eyes lit up. “Thanks for coming,” he said as the guards stepped back, allowing him to sit opposite us. I nodded without saying a word, not wanting to give too much of my intentions away yet. It was far easier to build a picture of someone when you had the power. Dan greeted Phil in a typical bullheaded bloke style. I watched, trying to establish a baseline between their casual conversation. It wasn’t an easy task, as both men were doing their best to shelter. I guessed this was because they had a few run ins in the past. I was forced to rely on micro expressions, which is something that I didn’t like to do because it meant staring directly at someone to spot any slight change in their expression. Micro expressions usually only lasted around ⅕ of a second. It tended to make people uncomfortable and self conscious when spending this much time staring at them.

Once the typical small talk had run dry, and I had gathered as much as I could on reading Phil’s facial cues, I finally spoke. “So, you’re innocent.” I stated, matter of factly. Phil’s eyes widened briefly.

“You believe me then?” he asked. I considered his question. Believe him. Not so much. Believe the evidence we had so far that the man without a face was still active, absolutely. But did it mean Phil wasn’t involved in one way or another, not really. Still, when the truth wouldn’t get me what I wanted, lying was nearly guaranteed to. As long as the lie was something they wanted to hear, they’d believe it without question.

“Yes, I believe you. I want to know more about your connection with Michael Hansen and what he has to do with this whole thing.” I said clearly, my tone even and eyes maintaining direct contact. It was a good strategy to convince people that the lie was the truth, even if they were on the fence about it.

Phil smiled. “I knew I liked you. When I get out of here, I am going to take you out for a drink. Perhaps a meal.” I could see Dan was about to speak, and I knew what he was going to say would be something biting about Jake, so I kicked him under the table. The fact that Phil had deflected from the purpose of the conversation concerned me. I was about to respond, flirt if I had to, anything to get the truth from him, when we were interrupted by a form approaching the table. I glanced up and sighed. I had a pretty good idea who our uninvited guest was, so I had a choice. Play it stupid, and hope for the best, or put him off his game. The problem was, I wasn’t 100% sure I was correct in my assumptions, but the risk seemed worth it.

“Ah, my good friend Alan Bloomgate. Nice to finally meet you.” I announced, standing as I did and shaking his hand. This gesture was uncomfortable for me, but it also gave me an element of power in the situation. Alan paused, suddenly off his stride, surprised I had made the connection so quickly. I was thankful that my suspicion was valid. If I had been wrong, the officer would have had all the power.

“Is now a good time to discuss information you may have pertaining to the Hannah Donfort and Amy Lewis Bell cases?” Alan asked, directly to the point. I raised an eyebrow as I considered what he said. The question was stupid really, he knew full well that I had been avoiding that exact conversation. Stupid questions lead to stupid answers, I decided.

“Well, actually now is not a really good time, see I came here to spend some time with my close pal Phil. See, he’s practically family... and, you know how things go when you’re in prison, that time tends to be quite limited,” I announced, unable to keep my snarky attitude to myself, while exaggerating my relationship to Phil. I despised the police in general. They had never done anything to protect me. When I was on the street, they would walk past me like they were blind, even when I was just a kid. It tended to be easier for them, less paperwork and all of that. Unless I did something wrong, then they’d be all over my ass to protect the more upstanding citizens. Of course, my attitude towards them didn’t help matters. Still, it made me feel better.

“I’m sure we can arrange for you to see Mr Hawkins another time,” Alan said, his voice taking on a stern ‘you will not fuck with me’ tone. This riled me even more. I hoped Jake would do something before I ended up getting arrested for assaulting a police officer.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. Mr Hawkins really shouldn’t be in here at all, right?" I paused, thinking to myself 'at least not for everything that the man without a face has done'. "I know you make a habit of going after innocent people, but arresting an innocent man while being blind to the movements of the actual culprit?" I mock sighed, exaggerating it for effect. "Anyway, If you want my opinion on the aforementioned cases, then I’d suggest you cast your net a little further and leave us alone.” I replied, trying desperately to refrain from what I actually wanted to say. Dan and Phil both shot me awkward ‘won’t you shut the fuck up’ glances. However, I couldn’t really be arrested for being a bitch. They could hardly build much of a case on hurt feelings. The best they could do was hold me in a cell for a while. That would be inconvenient but not the end of the world.

As Alan glared at me, I suddenly regretted my response, as I found myself backed into a corner.

“Actually, I was about to tell Mr Hawkins that we would be releasing him on bail, if he is able to make the money,” Alan replied. This surprised me and put me further on the back foot. Just as I was about to dig the hole deeper for myself, alarms started sounding in various places throughout the building. Moving hastily, I grabbed Dan’s arm and motioned he should follow. As Alan’s attention was momentarily distracted, I slid past him and headed into the reception area, walking quickly, but refraining from running. I hoped Jake's alarms hadn’t caused a lockdown. On reaching the reception, I could see that the staff were all staring at the computer screen. Making my way out the front door, I turned briefly to face Dan.

“Can you text Jake the letter D. I’ll be in touch,” I stated quickly then, before he could respond, I was off at a run taking one of my less desired escape routes. I didn’t know whether I could trust him with that simple task, but I hoped he would do that for me, even if I had upset him.

Jumping over the buildings for my escape, I was careful to keep an eye out for the man without a face, but the bigger concern was Alan. I wondered just how much he knew and who he was working in conjunction with. If it was the Government, he now had a good idea where Jake and I were. If it was from my past, then he was a dirty cop and I would have a tail pretty quickly. Either way, I’d fucked up going there and hadn’t learnt much of anything, except that Phil was definitely hiding something. Sliding down the fire escape, I was relieved to see Jake pull up in front of me. He had the door open before I had cleared the small distance to the car. I jumped in and slammed the door, holding on as he sped away.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake growled. “I would have had you out sooner, but from what I could see, you hadn’t gained enough from Phil to make any clear judgements. I knew we had one shot at this...but fuck,” he hissed. I ignored his comment to try and forge ahead. We were in more danger now than we had been since we found each other.

“I think we need to meet up with Dan. He knows Phil better than I do and I have a few questions for him. Then we need to get the fuck out of here, because I have a bad feeling that one of our pasts is going to catch up with us.” I stated. Jake nodded, suddenly looking tired more than anything.

“You’re right, fuck, I’m so sorry, you know that right? I should have been stronger and stayed away from you. You’d only have your own problems to face, not this shit with Hannah and the Government. I screwed your life from the moment I entered it.”

Shit, meeting up with Phil had potentially been the worst idea of my life. Now, not only were we in danger, but Jake had regressed back to pushing me away. Admittedly, I had done the same thing to him in the beginning, but since I had consciously made the decision that life wasn’t really life without Jake, I had been all in. I would manage to live with the dangers of his life and I’d do anything in my power to shelter him from the dangers of mine. After all, couples were meant to share shit, right? And he made me stronger. His defenses, coupled with my own, should be enough to face anything.

As he drove, I glared at him, but he took no notice. Instead his eyes remained fixed on the road in front of him. “Fuck Jake.” I groaned. “You don’t get it, do you? The only purpose I had in my life, before you, was to try and fix the problems I have started. What do you think would have happened to me after that? When my problems were gone, with no purpose? I may have ended up going back to the street. I may have ended up dead. Now I want to live. Now, even after I have fixed my situation, I want to carry on. Because of you, you turnip,” I growled, then shook my head at myself. Jake sighed, slumping in his seat.

“Turnip?” he questioned.

“Ugh, I wanted to let you know how stupid you were being...without being mean?” I sighed. Jake snickered quietly at my response then sighed again.

“Nothing you can say right now will make me feel any less guilty.” He murmured. “I need to feel guilty right now. I need to feel angry and upset. After that, I’ll be more willing to think about our future. But right now, I just need to be angry.”

I nodded thoughtfully and sat back, trying to ignore his presence and give him the time he needed. Eventually he replied. “Okay, you better text Donkey Kong with his new mission,” he sighed with a side smile at me. I giggled. “Wait, why Donkey Kong now?” I asked. “Isn’t it obvious?” Jake replied. “He’s a giant monkey that I could see throwing things when he gets upset, and you are like a very talented jump man that can jump pretty much anything.”

I was glad that Jake had a bit of his humour back, so I decided to encourage him more along this path. “Wait, when did I become a man?” I questioned, unzipping my pants and making a mock show of checking. Jake laughed. “You had better let me check that later, I will be more thorough than you.”

“Hm, yeah I think I’ll allow that,” I giggled as I rezipped my pants. Jake took my hand and smiled. “Listen, what I said before, it’s because I’m scared. It isn’t because I don’t want you. You’ve given my life as much purpose as I’ve given yours. But I’ve given you twice as many problems as you’ve given me.”

“Hm, you’re right.” I replied, pausing and raising my eyebrows as I stared at him. “I can always get a few more, if you like! That way we can be even.” Jake laughed again but tried to turn it into a growl of disapproval. I snickered then pulled out my phone. “Okay, so where are we going to meet Donkey Kong?” I asked. Jake smiled then thought for a moment. “I guess we don’t have a lot of options. Let’s go back to the warehouse. At least we know he knows where that is. We will move on as soon as we have had this conversation...or before it if we see any signs of trouble.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling a weight of dread descend again. Pulling out my phone, I text Dan then sat back, eyes closed, as Jake drove us back to the warehouse.

Part 56

[tobesobri]

𝒮orry for the delay in this chapter 😬but i just want to say happy birthday to the anon that said this chapter is being posted on their birthday, i hope you had the best day ever!! and yeah, i really hope you all like this one because it’s one of my favorites! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

CHAPTER THREE: DRUNK TO AN 80S GROOVE (3.4K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

Morning came and went by the time Harry woke up. With his curtains automatically shutting in the middle of the night and all sense of time lost, the only thing he knew for certain was that Y/N was gone. 

After confirming it, reaching out to find cold sheets instead of her warm body, he let out a huff and buried his face back into his pillows. He had wanted nothing more than to wake up with her in the morning and make coffee and just talk. But thinking back on his little daydreams from last night seemed extremely dumb to him now. She had a regular job with regular hours that she couldn’t be late for.

Once he got the energy to do so, he rolled onto his other side to grab his phone from the small, circular table next to his bed. He squinted at the bright light it gave off in his otherwise dark bedroom and then narrowed his eyes even more to read her message that had been sitting on his lockscreen for the past several hours.

(Y/N, 7:52 am)

Sorry I had to get to work.

Even in her texts she was concise. He grunted and practically threw his phone onto the emptied side of the bed. With his fingers dug deep into his hair and his palms covering his eyes, he thought about what she’d said last night for possibly the hundredth time since she’d said it. He still felt the knot in his throat and the stinging in his eyes from just simply repeating her words in his head again. 

For the entire time he’d known her, which was actually a decent chunk of time, he never would have guessed she felt that way. And he definitely would never have guessed she’d be telling him anything about it. He wondered how many nights she spent like last night where she didn’t have him to hold onto and he wondered if she was more like him than he’d thought. If she cried herself to sleep until it made her eyes burn the next morning. If she had the same destructive thoughts he did. Of not being good enough for anyone to stick around. Of desperately craving someone’s touch but being far too terrified to let anyone that close. 

They had their different reasons for it, but in the grand scheme of things, they were exactly alike. 

And he felt like a clown for never noticing it.

Friday night was suddenly not like all the other nights. She came home from work and didn’t immediately crawl into bed after throwing on her worn out sleep clothes. Instead she pulled out a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt she hadn’t worn in a long time and actually tidied up her room, instead of just tossing things into a chair or under her bed like she had for Harry when he slept over the previous week. She actually put things back where they belonged. She joined the ever-growing, untouched stack of books on her floor with the rest of them on her shelves. She gathered her dirty laundry and put away all the clean stuff that had been sitting in her hamper for weeks since she last ran a washing machine. She saw the clean, white table top of her desk for the first time in months and actually sat down to write in her planner when she was done with it all.

She’d been here before, coming out of the dark, but this time felt different. It felt like she actually had something to hold onto that made her accountable for keeping her shit together. 

And so, after a much-needed shower, she actually joined her roommates in the kitchen and ate dinner at a reasonable hour.

“Finally out of your room,” James commented while Y/N started helping herself to their overflow of Chinese takeout. Will and his girlfriend, Sasha, were already eating at their thrifted dining table with a very tired and stressed Violet sat on the opposite side from them. 

Y/N ignored him for the most part, other than to give him a mocking look, and made a plate for herself before reluctantly joining the others at the table.

“Look at this!” Violet exclaimed, pointing the screen of her phone almost right into Y/N’s face and then, before Y/N could even make out what the picture was of, Violet shoved it toward Will and Sasha. “He’s already with some other girl. It’s only been one fucking week!”

Y/N kept quiet, keeping out of that conversation completely after last Saturday when Violet had kicked her out at four-thirty in the morning because her boyfriend had broken up with her while he was getting ready for work. 

She couldn’t hold too much of a grudge, however, because if that didn’t happen, she would have never gotten into bed with Harry to begin with. On the other hand, if things hadn’t gone the way they did, she’d still have all her secrets to herself that she stupidly blurted out last night, which she’d spent the better half of her day trying to forget. She was pretty sure she trusted Harry, as much as she was able to, but telling him things like that made her remember just how much she hated anyone knowing anything about how vulnerable she could be. 

Ignoring Violet going on about her cheating boyfriend was made even easier when her own phone dinged in her pocket. Even poor Will tried to change the subject by asking who was texting her, but it was no use. Y/N shrugged him off once she saw Harry’s name on her lockscreen and Violet went right back to her rantings.

(Harry, 6:37 pm)

Can you come over again tonight?

She hated the way his text gave her butterflies. Like she was some high schooler with a big fat crush on the hot, popular jock she could never have. Still, she could not deny that him asking her to come over again made her fucking heart melt.

She ate a bit of her dinner before responding to him; just enough time to think up a believable story for her roommates. She wouldn’t get away with her coworker's place this time. She didn’t work tomorrow and had no reason to be spending the night there. So, after a moment to devise a believable plan for her roommates, she gave Harry her simple answer.

(Y/N, 6:49 pm)

Yeah.

Then she spent the rest of her time at her own apartment trying to find the right moment to squeeze into the conversation about her not staying in her own room tonight. She did eventually get it out, making up a lie that she was going over to a friend’s place. Friends she hadn’t talked to or seen since college, but Will, James, and Violet didn’t need to know that.

“I didn’t even know you were still friends with them.” Will questioned while he washed dishes and Y/N dried them. The others were in the living room after they finished putting away the leftovers.

“Well, I haven’t talked to them in a while, but yeah.”

Will just shrugged and handed her another plate to dry and put back into the cupboard overhead. “I know you hate it when I get all sappy, but I’m really glad you’re seeing your friends again and you just seem… happier.”

They all knew Y/N had really rough days and mostly tried to ignore it and let her be like she had asked them too, but Will often tried to get through to her, even if just to remind her that he cared about her and wanted nothing more than to see her happy. 

She felt guilty about lying, that he had no clue what she was really doing. And even though her sleeping with his best friend and colleague was just that, sleeping, it still made her feel a bit dirty, like they weren’t just sleeping if she felt the need to hide it from everyone. 

Telling some of her closest friends that she and Harry were friends-with-cuddle-buddy-benefits was not something she saw happening. Not any time soon. Or ever.

Once the dishes were done and she had a bag packed to take over to Harry’s, she was back on the same winding roads up to his house. This time, however, she felt a little more confident. He wanted her to be here. She wasn’t imposing on him. She’d let him see a glimpse of her true colors last night and he was still asking her to come over again.

They ended up on his couch this time instead of going straight to bed, mostly because it had only been nine o’clock when she showed up and neither of them were tired enough yet. Plus, they couldn’t exactly drown themselves in a shared bottle of whiskey in his bedroom without potentially spilling it all over his 400 thread count sheets.

Once both their brains were swimming in alcohol, Harry finally said what he’d been meaning to the second she stepped foot inside his house. What he’d been thinking about the entire time they sat together and watched multiple episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway, but he never found the right words or moment to do so.

“You’re not ugly.”

“What?” She flipped her head over to him, staring at him like he was crazy while he laid back against the cushions, practically half passed out at this point.

His eyes travelled to meet hers and his frown became even more prominent. “You’re not ugly and no one would be stuck with you, they’d be lucky to have you.”

She stared at him for a while, not even blinking until she finally averted her gaze and let his words sink in. She knew he was just drunk and possibly talking straight out of his ass, but it still made her feel better nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about what I said. It’s kind of hard for me to believe you know anything about loneliness.”

He still stared up at her even though she refused to look at him again. “I see so many people every day, but I still come home to this big empty house all by myself at the end of it.”

She was quiet, letting him explain all the things she didn't understand about his personal life.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but too many people, the only thing they want is an interview, a picture, a photoshoot. Whatever. All so they can make money, or get famous on the internet.” He paused and she could hear in his voice that he was tired, not necessarily physically, but mentally exhausted by what his life was truly like at the bottom line. “It’s extremely lonely when every single person you’ve let in your life like that just ends up taking advantage of you in the exact same way as everyone else.”

“What do you mean they’ve taken advantage of you?” Her voice was soft, trying her hardest not to sound as judgmental as she’d been with him last night. They both appeared to have their demons and she had no room to judge him for his. 

He sighed, picking at the front of his shirt distractedly. “My last girlfriend brought all her friends to this party I was having, but they just ended up stealing from me. They took pictures of my house, and of me when I was drunk. I felt like an idiot for trusting her the way I did… I still feel like an idiot.”

Her heart clenched in her chest listening to the way his voice cracked like he was only just breaking the surface of everything that happened in his previous relationship to make him as messed up as he was on the inside.

“So I was being a bit hypocritical when I got mad at you about not letting people in. You’re the first person I let get anywhere near me in over a year.”

“Why did you?”

He was staring at his hands in his lap when she looked over at him again. “I dunno.”

“Wow, great response, thanks,” she said sarcastically and it made him laugh at himself and come out of the hole he’d been digging himself into.

Once they were both done laughing, another risky question came to his mind, but just as he opened his mouth to get it out, she sighed and sat forward instead. “Think I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” he mumbled quietly before yawning at the mere thought of being passed out in his bed, “I’ll meet you up there.”

Nodding, she stood and on wobbly legs made her way upstairs where she vaguely remembered going last night. With her overnight bag in tow, she quickly found his bedroom again in the dimly lit upstairs area and flipped the lights on once she reached the bathroom. Her normal routine went a bit quicker this time, deciding one night without washing her face wouldn’t kill her.

She already knew, once she turned the bathroom light off and made her way back into his deserted bedroom, that she’d regret that decision when she woke up in the morning to new breakouts that had been waiting patiently to pop up.

Her tipsy mind didn’t care too much though and especially not when it cared a hell of a lot more about the view out his windows. So, instead of dragging her tired limbs to his bed, she went up to them, and looked out over the view of the city. At all the lights from tall buildings, other houses and traffic. It was beautiful, breathtaking and the whiskey swimming around her bloodstream couldn’t get enough of it. 

She stood there in front of the window for what felt like hours, staring off into the distance of a pretty good chunk of Los Angeles. It was a different view of the city than the ones she was used to. She usually hated it, the fake people, how expensive it was to do absolutely anything. She couldn’t even park her car at work for free. She hated how the streets always smelled like ass and the way her anxiety skyrocketed just from stepping out of her apartment building. It wasn’t a very forgiving city, but from way up here, she was in love with it.

Harry had already joined her in front of the windows by the time she realized he was there, a side effect of being in some weird drunken trance she supposed.

“This is the only thing I’ll miss about this place.” His voice was calm and quiet. Peaceful. His words weren’t so slurred and filled with disappointment as they had been earlier when he was dishing out his own confessions to her on the couch. 

She glanced over at him, lost now in the way the moonlight reflected off the high points of his face. She always thought Harry was attractive, but seeing him like this and knowing the things about him she’s sure he kept to himself most of the time, made her see him in a whole new light. Like she was meeting him for the very first time and just now realizing all the little things about him. From the way he stood with his weight off to one side and his arms folded across his chest to the way his eyes sparkled just like the city lights below them. All things she probably wouldn’t even be thinking about if she hadn’t gotten herself drunk.

“The automatic curtains are pretty cool.” He shook his head at her stupid little joke and she easily recognized the smile on his face from the shadows of his dimples. Another little thing about Harry she was just now learning to fully appreciate. As well as the way her stomach did cartwheels when he laughed at something she said. 

If she wasn’t drunk, every little feeling about Harry would be an enormous red flag telling her to slow the fuck down. That she was getting a little too carried away. 

And when he was no longer standing next to her, when he disappeared into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up for bed, she found one little thing about Harry she didn’t like. 

His absence. 

She was more at ease being the first one to crawl into Harry’s bed. She didn’t have to worry about getting too close to him right off the bat, or about pulling the covers off of him accidentally. She could get herself comfortable first and with this whole situation being so foreign to her and so new, she needed it. She needed a chance to get used to it on her own. To dip her toes into the water until she felt fully acclimated to the temperature. 

And once he finally joined her, she was. His bed slowly started to become like her own, even if she had only slept there once before. The anxiety subsided while it finally began to feel as though she belonged right there next to him. 

Even from a distance, as he left plenty of space between them, she felt the heat of his body radiating off of him and his impression in the mattress where he laid. She felt him wiggle around a little until he got comfortable. 

And then finally, she held her breath, prayed that she wouldn’t accidentally kick him, and backed up toward him until she could actually feel him. Until she bumped her shoulder into his chest and her foot against his shin. 

Only drunk Y/N would be pulling such bold moves. 

He kept his hands to himself though, and she grew anxious the longer he stayed silent. There was still a small gap between her back and his front, no more than half an inch. Space he didn’t attempt to fill for a long enough amount of time to make her overthink her actions. Like maybe she was being too forward. Maybe they were better off falling asleep apart and naturally coming together through the night. 

But, when she felt his breath on her neck, tickling loose strands of her hair against her skin, she stopped worrying so much. “S’it okay if I touch you?”

Her heart just about stopped when she heard him whisper that, because hearing him ask for permission she realized he’d been sitting there overthinking as much as she had. Wondering if he should just go for it or not. Not being sure if she’d be okay with that. 

And not that she’d ever tell him, but it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, the way he’d asked first. Because Y/N didn’t like to be touched very much at all. It was a rarity for her to be okay with anyone putting their hands on her for whatever reason. 

But, for whatever reason, she hadn’t minded the few times Harry had done it. In fact, she’d craved his touch. It was something she never thought possible of her, but here she was breaking her own rules.

She nodded, “Yeah.”

As if in slow motion, he slipped his hand onto her side, bringing his body closer to hers as he carefully hugged his arm around her. And with her own arms crossed over her chest, cuddling into herself, he gently grabbed her wrist to hold himself into place. It took them both a couple more moments to get into comfortable positions, but it eventually worked out. He held onto her tighter once he laid his head down on his pillow, breathing in the scent of her coconut shampoo with his face practically buried in the back of her head, and he started drifting off. 

It became very clear, very quickly, that being the big spoon to his pillows was no match for Y/N. Not with how warm she made him feel or the way her breathing offset his and calmed him down. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt the way he did with her with anyone else either. It was different. Y/N had no cold spots, no ill-intentions. She couldn’t possibly want anything from him when she refused to speak to him up until a week ago. He felt free with her. As free as he had been as a child, when he didn’t care about disappointing people and when he didn’t live in a constant state of paranoia about who he could trust. When he didn’t overthink himself into insomnia or toss and turn all night from the stress of it all.

Feeling her against him, breathing her in. He was free.

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[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, Yours. (5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: cursing

a/n: Finally I am updating this little story! I havent updated it in a long while for which I apologise, it wasnt my intention :( But there will be a slight twist in their “planned” pregnancy so... I cant wait to have a little fun 😁  I am always eager to hear your opinions.🙌 Stay safe!

MASTERLIST

PARTS: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5

This time, Baekhyun was the first one to be awake. Stirring a little bit around, he turned to his right side where your back was facing him, your hair splayed out on the pillow like a wild willow tree.

Scurrying a little closer, he brought his pillow to yours, his arm finding your sweet middle as he breathed in your fresh scent. He really liked moments like these, when the sun had yet to rise, the clock had yet to struck 6 and  you had yet to wake up, while he could just indulge in looking at you without being interrupted by anything or anyone.

Plus, the fact that few days had already passed since both you and him found out about your state did not mean he got used to the idea of suddenly three people occupying this bed. What a miracle, he thought. What a blessing.

Baekhyun carefully maneuvered himself out of the bed, his feet gently tapping on the wooden floor as he tiptoed to your side to turn off your alarm clock. He wanted to be the one to surprise you and wake you up with healthy breakfast in bed before both of you would have to head out to your work places.

Today he had a hapkido class with university students and as much as he loved the class, he just wanted to spend time with you.

He was just in the middle of pouring thick and rich pumpkin porridge into the last bowl when he heard you open the bedroom door.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing up so early?” you murmured, your voice low and heavy. “Sorry, it seems like I forgot to turn on the alarm clock. I would have done the breakfast myself,” you continued walking to his side to take the big pot out of his hand so that you could do it instead of him.

Baekhyun continued his job, not budging once at your prying hands. “Why are you up if your alarm clock didn't go off? I worked so hard this morning to turn off your alarm, and yet here you are beating the nature clock.”

“You turned off my alarm?” you asked, surprised.

“Of course I did!” exclaimed Baekhyun, as he put the pot back down on the stove and reached for the drawer to take out two spoons. “Now go back to bed, we have a breakfast to eat and you still owe me a face of surprise when I bring the food in,” he said, preoccupied with putting the bowls on the tray.

You held back the giggle that was threatening to spill at his antiques. “Alright, let me just pee real quick.”

By the time you were back, Baekhyun was bouncing on the bed, eagerly waiting for both of you to indulge in the hot porridge that was one of your favourites. You made sure to look completely taken aback when you sat down on the bed, giving him a loud peck on the cheek before making yourself comfortable. “You know this is the food we have after a hangover,” you murmured, taking a big spoonful and swallowing it in one.

“Oho, slow down, hungry cub. You will get a tummy ache if you eat so fast,” scolded Baekhyun gently, making you smile.

“Yes, chef.”

He gave you a wink. “And anyway. You love this porridge, might as well please your taste buds.”

You nodded, devouring a spoonful after another until you were done before him. And that rarely ever happened. “Done!”

he shook his head at you, trying to swallow the last bids of his porridge.

“Look at me! I rock today,” you laughed loudly when he pouted.

“It isn't fair,” he whined, putting down his spoon into now an empty bowl. “I am alone while you guys are two!”

Your laughter halted, melting into an endearing smile. Warmth spread through your insides. “I don't think its the matter yet,” you responded. “It has long way to grow for me to eat for two, you know?”

“No, it doesn't. It still counts.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you reached over the tray to mess up his bed hair. “Alright, whatever you say, mister. Still does not change the fact that I win for today, ha! And now, you better hurry, you need to be at the university in an hour!”

“First a kiss,” he demanded, crossing his arms on his chest.

Smiling, you pressed your lips to his warm ones, tasting the porridge. 

“Love you,” he murmured.

Once Baekhyun was out the door, you rushed to prepare for your work only to end up with your head in the toilet, throwing up all the porridge and more. 

____

You made it your absolute, utmost priority to keep your blessed state as far away from the workplace as possible. Not only was it all so fresh and new, but you also needed to wait till the first trimester was over to be 100% sure the pregnancy was safe and actually happening. Besides, you would lose your job immediately if your boss as much as whifs a baby around you. Thankfully, he was not the smartest man, as much as he insisted himself.

It only got proven when he called you into his office few days later, his meaty index finger pointing at the contract in front of him. It was a deal between yours and a Chinese company, but it was written in English. “I am sure there was a mistake on their side,” he mumbled, frustration slowly, but surely boiling in his facial features as he was gripping the piece of paper. He chuckled bitterly. “And they think I wouldnt find out? Just who do they think they are? I find out everything,” he seethed through gritted teeth as he suddenly snapped his eyes up at you, catching you off guard in the process.

You winced, taking a cautious step back, trying not to give too much attention to the meaning behind his words. “Sir, I believe this is correct,” you tried to explain gently, “the deal does not have any mistakes in English, we have already skimmed through it.”

He frowned. “But the calculations aren't correct. There should be one more zero.”

As calmly as you possibly could, you explained to him that he, indeed, bought much more than he actually thought. Making business was not always rainbows and unicorns, and today this fact seemed to dawn on your boss. “You were in a conference call last week,” you kept reminding him, “and because they offered you a good deal, you decided to buy more. Therefore you had to pay more, and we received less.”

He snatched the paper out of your small hands and gave you an ugly stare. “Whatever. I know my things,” he mumbled, turning his face back to the table.

“That is my job, sir.”

He whipped his head back at you again, but you only bowed at him politely, turning to walk out of his office when he started: “I still haven't scolded you for lying to me.”

Raising your head from your bow, you looked at him with worried eyes. “Lied to you, sir?”

He scoffed. “You lying about having a boyfriend was not the best move. Even if it is a white lie, I don't want any of it in my office. Nor in this company.”

You nodded, fully aware and guilty. You saw this coming sooner or later.

“And,” he started, giving you a side-look. “You plan on getting married?”

Holding back your breath, you knew you could reply to him truthfully. “No. Definitely not anytime soon anyway. As you know, it is a pricey matter.”

“Well, if you keep up the good work here, you might be able to save some money for such occasion,” he replied, his poker face giving you a slight unease. “Besides, I'm sure your handsome boyfriend would earn loads with that face of his.”

To that, you did not want to reply. Baekhyun, indeed, was a handsome man. This was a fact ever since you got to really know him back in the high school days, when he already graduated but still would sometimes visit your school for physical work around the building. The girls would be drooling and swooning in the big hallway windows during break, but he saved his handsome boyish smiles only for you,  always giving you a wink that would swoosh away the unwanted company of other girls.

When your boss realised he wouldn't get an answer from you, he ended the conversation on a very straight-forward note. “Whatever. Just don't get pregnant with him. Or anyone. No pregnancy in this company.”

-

It has been a few weeks later that the battle with the rollercoaster of your emotions had gone downward. There were still no direct signs of a small human being inside of you, but oh my goodness, were your hormones and emotions acting up. Tired of constantly puking your guts out on the morning, then rushing to work, dealing with the moody bastard of a boss, being either desperate for Baekhyun's touch or just plain hating his presence in the same room was driving you up the wall. 

Countless times you ended up bawling your eyes out in the bathroom in your work, or in the shower at home, because you didn't see a way out of this. Plus, the stress of accidentally revealing your pregnancy even to the ever-so-kind Sukyeong left you with a heavy soul. You needed to talk to someone of your age, you needed some help but your own independent self couldn't as much as think of such an option.

Another issue was scaring Baekhyun away from you and him leaving you alone in this mess that HE created… No, scratch that. Your slight change in weight made you feel so utterly unattractive that you were trying not to physically shudder whenever he complimented you about your looks. And the poor boy hadn't even a clue about your internal turmoil.

You sighed.

“You look freaking gorgeous, love.”

He said it again. And he meant it, he honestly did. You saw it in his eyes.

Being now almost past the first trimester, you and Baekhyun were both dressing up for your scheduled ultrasound at the doctor's. Although you were a bit nervous, you were thankful Baekhyun was always there throughout each check-up you had. And yet, here you were pissed at him, but you said nothing.

“Are you alright?” he asked you carefully, knowing how your mood could change within a nanosecond. He came closer to you as you were standing in front of the mirror you had in your tiny bedroom.

Swallowing harshly, you nodded, but did not look into his eyes. Ever so gently, through your tight dress, you saw a gentle baby bump. It could easily be covered up (and you did passionately cover it up for work) but it was there. Solid. A prove that it was real.

“Do we want to know the gender, honey?” asked Baekhyun gently, as he made another step closer to you and he let his hands hold your hips before his wide palms ever-so slowly slid over your stomach where he let them rest. Then his chin came resting on your shoulder as he turned his face to give you a gentle kiss to your neck.

You heart-rate picked up and it wasn't because of the high blood pressure you had been experiencing recently. “I don't know,” you whispered looking at him through the reflection in the mirror, “do we?”

This topic has been on your mind for the longest time. Do you want to be surprised? Or do you want to be prepared? Surely, in the nature of the village life, the answer would be an immediate: yes, we do want to know. Poor villagers always wanted certainty, and it was only understandable. But maybe this unpredictable city life of Seoul made you more adventurous. You might have not wanted to know.

He hummed, the vibrations in his chest sending electric shocks down your spine, causing you to squirm in his arms. He let out an amused laugh through his nose before he whispered into your ear: “So sensitive, my love.”

“You fucking tease,” you glowered, but leaned back into him.

He gasped softly and squeezed your body. “Now there, sweet cheeks, we do not swear with a baby inside of you.”

“Then stop teasing, love” you snapped back and he laughed now with an open mouth. “You know exactly what you are doing. You're sneaky.”

“Sure I am. You know me, hun. And now back to the point,” he emphasized, and you rolled your eyes but smiled anyways. “I don't mind if we get surprised. But if you want the gender to be revealed, I am supporting that as well.”

You nodded as you held his hands on your belly, letting your fingers caress the top of his knuckles. “Alright,” you said, nodding. “I think I will, ehm, see how I feel once we are there?”

He hummed in approval before he turned his head again, waiting for you to turn your face to see him. So you did. And then he gave you the sweetest smile of support before he leaned in and gave you a breathtaking kiss, ending it with a loud smack. “Shall we go then?”

-

Usually it was always an uncomfortable experience to sit in the waiting room of your doctor with other pregnant ladies. When you weren't pregnant, you felt so out of place, despite you having an active lovemaking life. That was why you were sitting there, right? Even at those times, Baekhyun was going with you, just because he wanted to be responsible and also to support you. He knew how much the village ladies didn't go for regular check-ups.

So now, sitting there with your tiny belly as your hands were intertwined with your boyfriend, it was a completely different feeling. You were still shy to as much as lie on that stupid chair, let alone spread your legs in front of a stranger - even though it was a woman and a doctor. But now it just felt right. You were eager. Excited. Happy. Curious. And Baekhyun felt your excitement as your knee was bouncing up and down. He was excited as well. The sparkle in his eyes was proving it.

Once finally inside, you both took a seat opposite your doctor, who gifted you with a kind smile as she also took a seat and skimmed through your papers. “The lovely couple I could never forget,” she noted, briefly looking at you and Baekhyun before diving back into your records. “And the unplanned baby. So!” she exclaimed, folding quickly the papers before she rested her laced hands down on the table. “Any abnormalities?” she looked at you, obviously expecting you to answer her questions.

Squeezing Baekhyun's hand under the table, you shrugged, not sure if what you were about to say was an abnormality. “Crazy mood swings. Emotions are a mess. Throwing up is still on, but thankfully not so often… And my boobs hurt,” you mumbled the last sentence, looking at your hand engulfed in Baekhyun's, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. This time Baekhyun squeezed your hand, although you didn't notice the affectionate look he sent your way. You dared to look up when you heard the doctor laugh.

“Those are all completely normal signs. Is your blood pressure still acting up?” she asked and as she was waiting for your reply she turned in her chair and grabbed the little machine. “I will check it now.”

You nodded but Baekhyun answered for you. “She had a couple of dizzy moments, but it wasn't as severe.”

The doctor nodded and checked you up, writing down the final results. “It's normal today. But if it will get too high, you need to go to the hospital. You know that, right?”

Not the happiest with her advice, you nodded.

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “Any questions before we start the ultrasound?”

You were just about to shake your head when your boyfriend cleared his throat, stopping you from doing the action. You gave him a wary look, and he squeezed your hand again when he spoke: “How is it with, eh, sex? As the baby is growing, we are not sure how far we can go or if we should even do it. And I wouldn't want to hurt my girlfriend or the baby...” he trailed off, his ears growing pink. You felt your heart swell with love for him as you smiled like a little high school student.

“Oh my god, please do have sex,” replied your doctor, her eyes worried as she gestured with her hand to you. “She might not be showing it, but the sexual frustration can get out of hand, to put it nicely,” she continued, her stance confident. “Paying attention to your pregnant lady is very important in every phase of pregnancy and it is completely safe. Of course, around the due date you might want to be more careful, however it does not necessarily affect the baby in any way, so there is no need to worry, Baekhyun. It is more than healthy,” she laughed loudly, making you and Baekhyun giggle in the meantime.

“Any more questions? No? Good! Then let's get to it,” she clapped her hands, swiftly getting up from her chair and walking to the bed where you lied down, now familiar with the process. Baekhyun was sitting on a chair just where your head was, and he ran his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring smile while you tried not wince at the cold gel touching your hot skin covering your stomach.

“So do we want to find out the gender?” she asked as she spread the gel evenly, now digging into your tummy while she was already looking at the screen.

You contemplated quickly but before you could answer the doctor cut through: “Or do you want to know how many babies you would have?” she asked, but her voice was light but a bit unfocused as she stared at the screen. 

Not seeing Baekhyun's frown, he asked: “What do you mean?”

It was silent for a little longer, your doctor going through the same trail on your belly again, probably to double check whatever she saw there. Letting out a tiny laugh, she turned to look at your puzzled looks. “Well, this is fantastic!” she exclaimed and for some strange reason you had a feeling this might not be the best news, nor the news you were expecting when you were coming there. So when she uttered the next words, you felt your world crumbling down on you, and this time you could be sure Baekhyun wasn't as confident either. “You are expecting triplets!”

[shewritestheblues]

the Elevator Bae - 13

Chapter Thirteen

Erik Stevens x Black OC (Phoenix) 

A/N: This series is almost to its end. I will be ending with Chapter 15. Thank You so much to everyone who has read and shared this story. I adore all of you soooooo much :)

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

How did two months go by so fast? Tour was coming to an end and It was bittersweet for Phoenix. She was able to finally see just how many people enjoyed her music and travel alongside one of her greatest friends but she missed Luna. She missed Erik? That’s been the confusing part. She didn’t really miss him but seeing how he’s been with Luna has warmed her heart. He’s been sending her videos and pictures daily. His bright smile seems to light up her world when she FaceTimes him to see Luna.

The closer she’s been getting to the last performing date, the more her anxiety has been surfacing. Since Erik’s been back, it was dropping Luna off because she had rehearsals and meetings and then tour. (A week during tour, Erik flew in to Detroit for Phoenix to have Luna while she visited family and he was on his way back to LA.) Their only interactions have been for Luna and they were good with that. She was good with that. There wasn’t any time for anything else. But soon, the tour will be over and she’ll be taking some time from work. Will things change? Have they already started to change?

Phoenix knew she was sure that this is what she wanted. For them to only focus on their daughter. All of these thoughts were swimming through her pool of a mind. Currently sitting in her hotel room, reading the comments under Erik’s latest IG upload weren’t helping. He just posted a picture of him and Luna while they were out. He had taken her shopping with him and snapped a picture of them in the dressing room mirror. It was the cutest picture. Luna looked unbothered while looking at the phone through the mirror. This kid had so many moods to be new here. Phoenix’s mom joked that Luna’s been here before.

Phoenix found herself smiling at the caption.

‘Luna ain’t having it with you hoes today.’

Erik’s captions were always… very Erik. And the comments full of women that Phoenix assumed were from Erik’s past or women who dreamed of being a part of his future.

‘She’s beautiful Erik.’

‘I still can’t believe Erik Stevens is somebody’s daddy.’

‘Lol, she’s so cute. Does she need a brother?’

‘Damn E. You make beautiful babies.’

‘Call me, E. 😘’

Phoenix wasn’t jealous. He was single. This was her decision. But sometimes, she hoped he would post something about her. Well, you know, because she is Luna’s mother of course. Maybe a shoutout?

No, no. She caught herself. She didn’t actually need that. Everyone following Erik knew who Luna’s mother was. Phoenix was fine. She. Was. Fine. These feelings? These thoughts? They will pass. So, she exited the app. It was time for rest and rest is definitely what Phoenix needed.

—————

Everything was… okay! Phoenix had worked herself up and things between her and Erik were good. They had the perfect schedule since she’s been back home. Erik would have Luna every other weekend. He’d come over to spend time with her during his ‘off days.’ They’d joke like old times. Even Ava had warmed back up to Erik. Of course things could never be what they used to be but this was a good start to making their situation feel somewhat normal.

“So tell me Phoenix, how has your transition back home been?” Dr. McKee wasted no time. She was eager to hear how Phoenix had been managing on her own.

Phoenix didn’t go back to therapy right away when she came back home. She figured she would take some time to test the waters and see if she would handle things with the methods she’s learned.

Releasing a deep breath, “Everything is good.” Phoenix finally says. “I’m happy.”

A genuine smile grew onto Dr. McKee’s face. “That’s amazing Phoenix. I’m honestly so proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of myself too.”

“So,” Dr. McKee paused, “What made you want to come in today?”

“I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m supposed to be using this time off to relax but I can’t. I feel like I should be doing something. Too much down time makes me think and when I think, I overthink. When I overthink, I get antsy. Then I feel anxious. Which only leads to a panic attack. I just don’t know what to do with this energy.” Phoenix stops herself to take a deep, calculated breath.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Did I make the right choice— No! I know that I did but…” Phoenix trails off.

“But what?”

“Luna loves him so much. The way she lights up when she sees him. She deserves to be that happy every day. I want her to feel what I feel. I’m happy.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince someone of that.”

The way Phoenix rolled her neck, she felt offended. How dare her own therapist insult her like this? Phoenix was happy! She didn’t have to convince anyone. She rolled her eyes at the idea. The nerve of this highly educated woman.

“I’m not trying to upset you Phoenix. I’m just trying to understand.”

“So are you saying I don’t make any sense right now?” Phoenix snapped back.

Cool, calm and collected, Dr. McKee blinks, “I’m not saying that at all. You make perfect sense. I just want you to share as much as you can so we can get to the root of what brought you here today.”

Phoenix closed her eyes and chewed on her lip. She internally chastised herself for being snappy. “It’s just,” she slowly began, “the way he looks at me with those puppy dog eyes. Even when he’s laughing, his eyes are saying something else. Like… he’s trying to slowly drown me. When he looks at me, his eyes linger like they’re trying to get me to catch on to something.”

Phoenix opens her eyes and focuses on the floor. “I’m not changing my mind. He’s always been a smooth operator but unfortunately for him, I know that. He doesn’t get to come around and make me feel guilty for choosing what’s right for my baby.” Phoenix paused. “Our baby.” She whispered that last part.

Dr. McKee takes some notes. She opens her mouth to speak but Phoenix beats her to it.

“I understand. I really do. Erik wants to give Luna the family experience. I want that for her too. But the family we’ve all created for her is fine.”

“I agree, Phoenix. So many of us get caught up in the idea of a traditional family. But family is whoever loves you unconditionally. From what I know, you, Erik, Coby, Ava and the entire tribe you guys have around you love Luna beyond this world. That’s more than enough. You’re a great mom. Great moms make tough decisions every day, but great moms also know each decision is for the greater good of their family.”

Phoenix smiles. It feels good to hear that someone sees you and your hard work and the sacrifices for what they are. Dr. McKee was right. They may not be the traditional family, but Luna is still surrounded by a loving tribe that is unique to her.

“But,” Dr. McKee continues, “you can’t attach yourself to Erik and what he may be feeling about this. You’ve made yourself clear what you wanted. You’re happy and Luna’s happy. There’s no need to ruffle anymore feathers here.”

Dr. McKee turns to her laptop and begins typing away on her keyboard. After a few clicks, she turns to Phoenix again.

“I’ve emailed you a list of things that could help you during your free time. I want you relax and enjoy this time off as best as you can before it’s time to get back to work. You deserve it.”

“I’m going to my best.”

—————

Phoenix wasn’t in a rush to leave the parking lot of Dr. McKee’s office after her session. She sat in her car going over the list in her email.

Ways to Relax Your Brain:

-Workout.

-Take an art class.

-Plant a Garden.

-Read some good books.

-Get out in Nature.

Phoenix wasn’t gifted with a green thumb, so gardening was out of the question. She works out pretty consistently, but it hasn’t worked out with calming her thoughts so that one is scratched off. Art class felt like work and books? She’s read every book that resides in Coby’s house. She was tired of reading. Looks like getting out in Nature would be worth a shot.

She’s always loved the beach but she couldn’t remember the last time she’s been to a beach.

—————

Phoenix found herself in a very familiar spot. A picnic table on the beach, watching the beach goers enjoy themselves. The waves look beautiful as they rolled in onto the sand. The sounds of splashing seemed more soothing than Phoenix ever realized. Time seemed to be passing so slow. Everything in the world has come to a calming pause. Her mind wasn’t racing. Her heart wasn’t pounding. Tranquility was all Phoenix could come up with to describe this feeling. She had no worries, no fears, no anxiety.

The sounds of an ice cream truck moving through the parking lot near her, caught her ear. The thought of eating something sweet without her infant bullying her into sharing seemed like a great win. She stood from her seat and seemingly floated to the truck.

“Hello, what can I get you?” the older man inside the truck said with a contagious smile.

“Um,” she tapped her chin with her index finger, “I’ll go with chocolate on a waffle cone.”

“Coming up.”

Moments later, Phoenix exchanges her money for the ice cream cone and travels back to her spot at the picnic table. She picked up where she left off admiring all that surrounds her. She ate her ice cream with a pleased smile pinching at her cheeks.

The small vibration of her phone pulled her from her trance. Erik is facetiming her. She assumed he was calling to see Luna so she swiped to answer the call.

“Hey, E. I’m not with Luna right now.”

“That’s cool. I called to talk to you.”

“Oh, um, okay. What’s up?” This made her suspicious.

“The Outreach Center will be opening this Friday. We’re doing a whole big thing and uh, I wanted to invite you if you aren’t busy. Shuri told me that if I didn’t call you right now, she would never talk to me again.”

Phoenix was mid bite into her cone and almost dropped it from laughter. “Well, you know I have nothing to do. Tell Shuri that me and Luna will be there.”

“Alright.” Erik paused, eyeing Phoenix’s background through the phone. “Aye! You’re at the beach?”

“Yeah. I just needed a moment. Needed to get out of the house, I guess.”

“Everything’s alright?” His words were soft, genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is good.”

Erik didn’t believe her. He could tell something was bothering her but he didn’t want to push her. That wasn’t his place. Well not anymore at least.

“Well you know, no matter what, you can always come to me.”

“Yeah, E. I know.”

“Alright, I have some shit to get done before Friday. I’ll let you get back to your me time. I’ll text the details later.”

“K…”

“Kiss my baby for me when you get back home please.”

“I will.”

The call ends and Phoenix is frozen. Erik calls her while she’s sitting in the very spot he’d taken her when he needed to clear his mind. This use to be their spot. Her peace was broken then. Erik was everywhere. Even when he wasn’t there. She looked around and threw in the towel. Her time here was up. She finished her ice cream cone on her walk back to her car. She was ready to get back home to get her daughter.

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

The week had flown by. Phoenix was just sitting on Dr. McKee’s couch. She was just at the beach. But now, it was opening day for the Outreach Center. Phoenix couldn’t understand why she was feeling so nervous. She had this gut feeling that something was off. Her and Erik were good. She loved T’Challa, Shuri and Queen Mother and they all adored her. She wrecked her brain trying to come up with an answer.

Phoenix called her mom. She would understand and maybe help her with her feelings.

“Something just doesn’t feel right, Ma.” Phoenix props the phone up on her dresser while she gets Luna dressed.

“That’s your intuition, baby. If you feel like something ain’t right, it’s because something ain’t right.”

“But I don't know what it is. It’s driving insane.”

“The only way to find out is to go and face whatever it is.”

Phoenix finishes dressing Luna. She places her in her bouncer in front of the phone so that Luna can see her grandmother on FaceTime.

“Hey baby girl.” Phoenix’s mom dotes on the bouncing baby. “You’re looking more and more like your grandma everyday.”

Phoenix cuts her eye at the phone. “She looks like her dad.”

Phoenix catches her mom rolling her eyes.

“You can’t hate him forever, Ma. He’s going to be around for a long time.”

“I don’t hate him. I just think he’s stupid. Maybe if he pays for a round trip for me to go to Wakanda, I’ll forgive him.”

“Mom!”

“Those are my terms Phoenix and I ain’t changing them. Ain’t that right Lulu? Tell your stupid ass daddy to send me to Wakanda.”

“Alright Luna,” Phoenix picks Luna up, “Your grandma is on all bullshit today.”

“Hey! What your mouth around my grandbaby.”

In disbelief, Phoenix looks at the camera, “But you just said a bad word.”

“Ass isn’t a bad word.”

“Okay, ma. Whatever you say. We have to go so I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

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

Phoenix was roaming the large, empty halls of the Outreach Center. She had been inside multiple times while dropping off Luna to Erik or picking her up. She had checked Erik’s office, looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. She was making her way back outside when she sees Shuri. 

“Shuri!” Phoenix stops her, “Have you seen Erik?”

“Philly! I’m so happy you’re here.” She pulls Phoenix into a tight hug. Phoenix embraces her back and their body’s rock. “I missed you. Hey Lulu.” Shuri adds pinching Luna’s chubby cheeks.

“I told you that you can over whenever.” Phoenix adjusts Luna on her hip. Luna was getting heavier every day.

Before Shuri could respond, she looks up and sees Erik walking straight toward them. “Oh there’s the little T-Rex.” She points in the direction of Erik.

When Phoenix turns around, Erik is walking with that famous dip. His dreads are back into a ponytail and he’s sporting a navy blue suit that’s tailored to perfection. He’s always had great style. The smile on Phoenix’s face slowly began to drop when she noticed the tall, curvy, well dressed woman walking alongside Erik. That uneasy feeling she felt when she was home crept up from her stomach and settled in her chest. She tried to control her breathing before it picked up. She wouldn’t allow herself to get worked up before knowing what was going on.

“There you are. Philly was looking for you.” Shuri says. She turns to Phoenix, “Come find me later. We have so much to catch up on.” Shuri walks off.

Phoenix isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do. She awkwardly stands there looking around to avoid looking at the woman standing next to Erik.

“Hey, Phoenix,” Erik grabs her attention and motions to the mystery woman. “This is Alicia. Alicia, this is Phoenix.”

Alicia sticks her hand out and shakes Phoenix’s hand. “Oh my goodness, you’re Phoenix? I’ve heard so much about you. Hey Lulu.” Alicia rubs her thumb on Luna’s arm.

Lulu? The only people who calls her Lulu are people who are close to her. It’s obvious that this woman has been around Luna a great deal.

“Oh…Hm. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyes bounce between Alicia and Erik a few times before they lock in with Erik’s. She can’t read him. These are not the same eyes he usually looks at her with. He licks his lips. This woman isn’t just a random woman that Erik decided to introduce to her. Something was up between the two of them.

Luna throws her body backwards trying to get to her dad. Erik scoops her up with one quick motion, taking her from Phoenix. He peppers kisses all over her cheeks before checking his watch. “We’re gonna miss the opening ceremony. We should get outside.”

“You guys go ahead.” Alicia says, “I have to use the lady’s room. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay. You know where to find me.” Erik says with a smirk. Alicia places a hand on his arm and walks off toward the restroom.

Erik and Phoenix began the journey outside to watch T’Challa give the opening ceremony speech. As they approached the big door that led out, Phoenix looked to Erik. “She seems nice.”

“She is.” Erik tries to bite back his smile.

“Good. You need someone nice.”

Erik stops walking. He was stunned by her words. How did she manage to put those pieces together? His words got caught and he struggled with a response. Phoenix picked up on his struggles.

“She called Luna, Lulu. That told me everything, Erik.”

He caught on. “I wanted to tell you before now, but I didn’t really know how.”

“It’s fine. As long as she makes you happy, there’s nothing to talk about. Things may not have worked out with us but I can see that you’re a better man. Someone should get to experience that.”

Phoenix doesn’t stick around to hear how he may react. She walks ahead leaving him and Luna and goes outside. Erik stood there processing her words. Alicia catches up to him. She could see that something had shaken him up.

“Erik, is everything okay?” her eyes searched him for any kind of answer. “Did something happen with Phoenix?”

He finally looks at her, “No, nothing happened. She just, uh, she thinks you’re nice.” A single dimple appearing.

A small smile forms on Alicia’s face. “So does this mean that I’m Phoenix approved?”

They laugh. He steps closer to her and plants a kiss on her lips. Alicia’s face goes red. “Not in front of Luna.” she plays.

Erik opens the door for them and they walk out just in time as T’Challa takes the stage.

As the day progressed, Erik was talking to so many people. He found himself explaining different parts of the Outreach Center over and over but he didn’t complain. Alicia stayed by his side, mingling while Luna bounced around between the two of them and Queen Mother. It wasn’t until T’Challa pulled Erik aside to ask where Phoenix was that Erik realized that he hadn’t seen her since their exchange. His eyes searched through the crowd hoping to see her somewhere. To his disappointment, she was nowhere to be found.

He texted her.

Erik: Hey, Philly. Where did you go?

Time passed and he never received a text back.

Phoenix’s thumbs hovered over her keyboard but she just couldn’t find it in her to say anything back. When Erik didn’t come outside for the ceremony right after her, she snuck out and left. Luna was in good hands and she just couldn’t stick around. She meant what she said. She really did see Erk for the better man that he had become. He was an amazing person and even more amazing father. It wouldn’t be fair for her to want him to not move on. Again, she reminded herself that this was best.

“Philly. Come get your glass.” Mica yelled from the kitchen.

When Phoenix got back home, she told Ava what had happened and Ava called Mica and Camren over for girl talk and wine. They were all between their third and fourth cups. Hours had gone by and Phoenix still couldn’t text Erik back. She just says “fuck it,” and tossed her phone on the couch and heads into the kitchen for her refill.

When Phoenix gets a hold of her assigned wine glass, she downs it in seconds. Her friends watch on in shock.

“Damn Philly, calm down.” Camren says.

“I’m grown, Camren. You don’t have to tell me how to drink some weak ass wine.”

Mica clutches her pearls. This isn’t like Phoenix at all.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ava asks. “Is this about Erik?”

Phoenix throws daggers at Ava with her heavy eyes. “Everything ain’t about Erik. I’m good.”

“You’re not acting good.” Mica adds.

Phoenix begins filling her glass up again. “Well since yall just know me so well, how am I acting if I’m not acting like I’m good?”

Ava snatches Phoenix’s glass. “You’re acting like you’re trying to drink your problems away.”

“I don’t have any problems to drink away. If I did, I’d be killing off something way stronger than wine.” she reaches for her glass but Ava pulls away.

“It’s obvious that this Erik shit is bothering you, sis.” Ava says.

Camren and Mica both nod in agreement.

Phoenix slams her hands down on the island counter. “Yo, fuck Erik. I don’t give a shit about what that man is doing. He’s moved on. He’s happy. I’m happy. Why are y’all holding on to this shit?”

“You’re holding on to it.” Ava yells. She’s fed up with Phoenix’s rudeness.

The gloss appearing over Phoenix’s eyes alerted her friends that she was struggling to hold back her tears. Ava reaches for her but Phoenix pulls away. She looks off at nothing when a few tears escape and flow down her cheeks. Her lips shake and she wraps her arms around herself.

“I don’t get why you’re torturing yourself. You clearly still love him.” Mica says.

“Yes!,” she aggressively wipes tears from her cheeks, “I still fucking love him, but this love ain’t mean shit. He doesn’t get to do this. He can’t just pop back up after all of this and have his life back like nothing happened.

“So,” Camren hesitates for a moment. “You’re punishing him?”

“I’m protecting myself.”

Ava steps closer to Phoenix in a nurturing way. “No, you are punishing him and yourself. Look at you. I hate what his stupid ass did just as much as you. But she’s right. We’re right. You're torturing yourself while trying to prove a point.”

“No I’m not!”

“You keep saying that he can’t do this.” Mica joins in again. “That he can’t just come back. But you can’t just pretend like you don’t care. It’s not fair to either of you.”

Phoenix doesn’t respond. She’s listening but she wishes that she wasn’t. They were right and she wishes they weren’t.

Camren breaks the silence. “We’re not trying to hurt your feelings Philly or piss you off in any way, but you can’t be hurt that he’s moving on when you’re the one that told him to.”

Mica interrupts, “So, either you can move on too or tell him how you really feel.”

The group of women notices Phoenix’s lack of responses. She’s in shut down mode. They didn’t want that but they couldn’t sit back and not tell their friend the truth about herself. Phoenix finally gets her hands on her abandoned glass of wine on the counter and downs it before silently walking away from her friends. She goes upstairs to her room. They give each other knowing looks. They would give her some time and they’ll go up to console her. Moments pass and they all suddenly hear the front door slam, scaring them. When the women rush to the door, they barely catch Phoenix just as she is nearing the end of the driveway.

Ava runs out toward the reversing car but Phoenix quickly shifts the car into drive and drives off.

“Fuck!” Ava yells. “We have to get Coby.”

[cherry-moonlight]

Life Could Be A Dream - Chapter Two

{NOS4A2 - Charlie Manx x Reader}

{A/N} This story is pouring from my veins and it’s already the longest I've ever taken to introduce a main character but, I’m a sucker for suspense and a super slow burn these days! Thank you for all the love :3

Warnings: None this time!

Chapter Two - What's That Playin’ on the Radio?

I huddled into myself, the cold definitely getting to me, unlike the way the weather affected — or didn’t affect — me in my dream. The fresh snow crunched beneath my feet as I kept on, and I began to feel stupid for acting so rashly. At the same time, I knew it was for the better. There was no better time than the present they said, and if I stayed at that godforsaken place after that, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take myself seriously ever again. It was a fine line of empowered and guilty that I walked, but I knew I’d have to walk it nonetheless with the decision I made.

A of couple hours or so went by of wandering aimlessly up the road. I hadn’t realized how far apart things were in my little town without a car to take you there. It wasn’t snowing, but the sky looked as though it might open up with a flurry at any second. I was close to grabbing my phone and breaking down, apologizing to the woman who should’ve been apologizing to me instead when I caught sight of a large sign just beyond me.

“Carmody’s Car Carma,” I said to myself, cocking my head to one side.

I hadn’t noticed Carmody’s before, but as I came across it, I hoped they had a vending machine. My stomach growled; I hadn’t eaten all day, and with my nerves calming from the argument I had with my mother coupled with all the walking I’d done, I needed a snack and something to drink.

When I approached the sign, I turned down the tire-worn pathway right behind it, hoping that whoever owned the place would be kind enough to let me make use of whatever they had to offer.

The closer I got to what looked like a mechanics haven, a plethora of noises erupted from the building. The sound of a shrill kind of drill spinning relentlessly into a hunk of metal and a motorcycle being almost revved up and then cut over and over meshed together over a song on a static-filled radio I hadn’t heard before. I slowly made my way to the open garage door, finding it slightly amusing that they’d leave it open despite the freezing temperature. I guessed it was safer that way with the scents that wafted through the air.

A girl caught sight of me first, immediately setting down a spray can of red paint she had in her hand and picking up a towel, wiping both hands on it with a friendly grin as she walked up to me. She looked a little rough around the edges, her short brunette locks styled with bangs curled haphazardly around her face as though she’d been at work for a while, lost in the task at hand.

“Hey! You need some work done?” she asked.

“Oh.. No, I’m— I just need a vending machine or something. I’ve been.. on a walk, and I’m starved.”  The girl raised a brow, eyeing me for a moment. I’m sure I looked suspicious to some degree, but not enough for the way she carried herself then. She backed up, her stance becoming slightly defensive.

“Who sent you?”

Her voice was low and quiet, as though she was expecting my reasoning to be something grave.

Gee, I must really look insane.

“Nobody..” I began, confused about what she was thinking. “I can go, if you want,” I said then, turning to leave.

“Vic, who’s there?” I heard a male voice inquire next.

Almost immediately the girl's demeanor changed, as though she came to some kind of realization.

“Wait up,” she said to me, her voice softening. “We have a vending machine.. It doesn’t take money anymore, but I can just open it for you.”

She turned to the voice then as the man revealed himself in the garage’s entryway, holding a drill in one hand and wiping his forehead with a towel with the other. He also looked as though he’d been caught up in his work, his shirt slightly dirtied with oil and sweat on his brow.

“She just needs a vending machine,” Vic said, waving her hand for me to follow her into the shop.

He nodded his head and looked over at me with a warm grin.

“Welcome to Carmody’s Car Carma! We do the best work and have some of the best snacks in town. I’m Sir Lou Carmody, and the lady is Miss Victoria McQueen.”

He’d put on a British accent for the greeting before getting back to his work and I smiled— probably the first genuine smile I’d given in weeks.

“I’ll believe that when I taste it!” I called out jokingly as he headed back to his project. “But I’m {Y/N}, it’s nice to meet you both.”

“Call me Vic,” the girl responded then.

My hand was almost numb with the cold as I reached into my bag and grabbed my wallet. When I stepped behind Vic, she moved aside, slapping the side of the vending machine as though she were a salesman trying to push a car. The door popped right open, and she lifted her hand to stop me from offering her money.

“Your money’s no good here. No one’s used this thing in years, just don’t come complaining if you get sick,” she smiled.

Reluctantly, I slipped my wallet back into my purse and reached out for a bag of chips. Stale or not, chips never seemed to go completely bad, I thought.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be okay. My mother’s made worse.”

“Bad cook?”

“Bad everything,” I rolled my eyes.

“I get that. Coffee?” She asked then, turning around to a small counter and holding up a pot of what smelled like fresh coffee. The scent was hardly detectable through the scent of oil and fresh paint, but it was enough to get me to say yes. Besides, I’d need the pick-me-up if I was going to keep walking.

When she poured me a cup, I held it in my hands for a moment, letting it warm my skin. I looked around the space. It seemed they were doing well, cars and their parts scattered about everywhere. A red dirt bike in the corner looked like what she must’ve been painting before I arrived. It was then that my eyes landed on a small handwritten “help wanted” sign on a pole just above a telephone that looked like its wires had been cut.

I stayed quiet for a moment, wondering why they had a phone that wasn’t working; or better yet— was stopped from working. It was off-putting, but I supposed I had no room to judge, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosy, no matter how eerie something seemed.

“You’re looking for help?” I asked curiously, quickly ignoring the phone altogether.

The place was too close for comfort to my mother's house, but now that I was on my own, I was going to need some kind of income. They seemed like nice people, and I knew my way around a car thanks to a short lived boyfriend who helped his dad with his at-home projects a couple years back.

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s been just the two of us here for a while. My son’s starting to miss me,” she breathed a laugh, a nervous energy almost permeating from her.

“Well, I’m kind of looking for a job right now.. No pressure,” I chirped.

She looked me over, leaning back against the counter with her own paper cup of coffee.

“You know cars? Bikes? That kinda thing? Mostly, we need someone on the phone, too.”

“Oddly enough, I do,” I said, finally bringing my cup to my lips and sipping on the hot beverage, not bringing up the destroyed phone on the pole. “And I’ve had plenty of experience on the phone. I had to do everything for my mother, from making appointments to taxes.”

I exhaled with a quiet hum, grateful for the warm drink. It warmed me up almost immediately, like fire on ice, and I couldn’t help but feel comforted by it. My day had been rough, but there was still hope. Either that, or the coffee was way too good.

After speaking to her for a while about my knowledge of mechanics, she left to speak to Lou privately. I kept my fingers crossed around my cup anxiously, hoping that maybe my day would turn around. I didn’t have a place to stay, but a job was half the battle. I could weather a few nights in the cold if it meant saving for an apartment. Or at least a long-stay motel room.

Spending the money I tucked away in the cedar chest on a room was tempting, but that was saved for a reason. I’d fallen on hard times, but unless they got harder, like Lou not agreeing to my employment, I could still save for the bigger picture. There was still hope for me. Silently, I prayed to whatever might be watching over me as I heard them murmuring to each other across the shop.

Waiting by the vending machine, I let myself relax just a bit and enjoy being out of the direct cold. The song on the radio was catchy, but had a solemn tone to it that reminded me of my life in every aspect. I listened to it, getting lost in the melody for a moment before hearing Vic walk up to me, jarring me out of my small trance.

“Welp, you’re in luck— welcome to the team!” She said, holding her hand out to me to shake it.

I gasped, jumping a bit in place as I took her hand in return, shaking it with an excitement I didn’t know I could still muster after everything earlier.

“Oh, thank you. You don’t know how much I need this right now. When do I start?”

“Bright and early tomorrow morning, we open at nine, sharp. I’ll be around to help you out, show you the ropes— but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quick. Lou’s always here if you need anything after, though.”

The relief I felt was unbelievable. All I had to do was figure out where to stay. I guessed I could use some of the money in my wallet for a room somewhere— The question was where. By foot, everything was so far away, and my middle-of-nowhere town wouldn’t know what a taxi or bus was from a hole in the ground.

But at the same time, I was too glad to care for the moment, sipping from my cup and exhaling quietly. Half the battle was won. Now I needed to go in and win the war with a place to stay, and I’d be on my way to some kind of normalcy, whatever that might have felt like.

Vic led me over to the front of the shop then, and I opened my bag of chips, remembering how hungry I actually was as I lightly popped one into my mouth. The song playing into the air grew louder as we approached the radio. I smiled and gestured towards the little electronic device.

“I’ve never heard the song on the radio before— what’s it called?” I asked Vic curiously, swaying my head to the melody gently.

She stopped walking, turning around to face me with a furrowed brow, concern written all over her features as she spoke.

“The radio isn’t on…”

[mosswillow]

The People You Love Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, look at me not being lazy and adding the chapter to Tumblr too.

Warnings and Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Protective Ben Solo, Alpha Ben Solo, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Mating, Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Knotting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, unconscious medical procedure (chapter 6), Emotional Hurt, Suicidal thoughts (very mild no actual planning) ch 8, Did I already mention emotional hurt?, Emotional hurt (once more for good measure.) Slow Burn, Implied/referenced attempted suicide (not described in detail) (not Rey) (ch 15), some violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted assault (ch 14)

AO3 link

By clicking keep reading you confirm that you’re an adult over the age of 18

The seconds tick closer to midnight and Rey gets to work digging through her room. She finds a bag and fills it with some papers from her file, clothes, the money card Leia gave her, and toiletries. Minutes before it’s time to run the room becomes clear, like she put on a pair of glasses. It’s sharp and bright, every detail jumping out at her. The specs of dust in the air float around her and she stares at the room taking in every detail. Her head starts feeling light and she realizes she’s stopped breathing. There’s hesitation. Anxiety. Maybe it’s fear or maybe guilt, she doesn’t know. Her mind turns to what will happen to the Solo’s. She knows, even though she doesn’t want to admit it, that running away from them will fuck their lives up. The moment she leaves her room she’ll be doing something she can’t take back.

It takes several deep breaths and hyping herself up to cut the bracelet and climb out of the window. The climb down is easier this time. She hits the ground after a few short minutes and starts running, making it down the street before she has to stop to catch her breath. She feels elated, free and happy, the world is open to her.

Then the initial adrenaline rush dissipates and her heartrate settles. She’s left alone in a dark alleyway. It’s a sliver of freedom and she wonders if it will be worth it. She hopes so.

She makes her way to the closest bus stop and reads the map, running her hand over the spot where Finn and Poe’s house is. She knows it’s where she needs to go. It’s the only way she can think to get home.

“Where to honey?” A tired looking woman says.

Rey almost turns around and goes back. What if the letter says something she doesn’t want to hear? What if something terrible happens? She takes a deep breath and hands over her money card before climbing in a large bus to start her journey. The island was an illusion, it held a life that did not exist. The illusion is broken now and all that’s left is the reality that the facade was built around. Rey is tired of everyone knowing more about her than herself. Even if something horrible happens or if what she finds out breaks her heart she has to go. She can’t live her life knowing that there’s truth out there and she didn’t go find it when she got the chance.

-o-

It takes over twenty four hours to finally reach the charming little house she once knew. Rey was so focused on getting away that she hadn’t considered how it would feel to be back. As she stands outside hyping herself up she goes through a range of different emotions. Anger at first that they gave her away without even talking to her first. Then she feels a sense of loss thinking about how much she cared for them, how she felt loved and safe and like she was part of a family. She misses that feeling and it hits her that she may never feel that way again.

She waits until she’s sure they’re fast asleep before walking to the back door and trying the handle. It turns easily; they never did lock the doors. She tiptoes through the house and stops at a picture frame. It’s her, she doesn’t even know when it was taken. She picks it up and looks at it, almost feeling guilty about what she has to do.

“Your mate called, told us when you would be here. He wants you to call him.”

Rey jumps and looks over to see Finn and Poe standing across the room. She puts the photo down and makes eye contact.

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Do you want us to?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn slowly walks towards Rey and she backs up in response looking at Finn with distrust and heartbreak. He stops and slackens his shoulders.

“We should have told you before he showed up here, we were afraid you would run off.”

Rey crosses her arms and takes another step back.

“Why are you here Rey, are you ok?” Finn asks.

Rey looks back and forth between Finn and Poe before dropping her arms and giving up.

“My grandfather left me something on the island.”

There’s a pause and then Rey watches their eyebrows raise in unison as they understand.

“You need our boat.”

Rey nods.

“So you were just going to steal it?”

She nods again.

“I was going to bring it back after.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble for helping you, you know that right?” Poe says.

Rey walks over to the couch and plops down putting her face in her lap. Finn comes next to her and rubs small circles on her back.

“We’ll take you there,” He says quietly.

Rey pauses for a moment as his words wash through her. She feels a mix of relief and resignation. Even in the time she was on her own she still had to rely on others. She puts her arm around Finn and leans against him. Maybe relying on others isn’t a bad thing and fighting the instinct to form attachments only ends up leaving her hurt. She doesn’t trust Finn and Poe, at least not the way she did before but she also isn’t angry.

“Thank you.” She whispers

They don’t waste much time. Poe makes a sandwich for Rey and they hitch up the boat. It’s a long and cold ride to the island. Seeing land is a relief and yet Rey finds herself unable to move as they dock. The night she left was one the most difficult of her life. Flashbacks play in her head and she half expects a group of men to come running at her from the house.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Poe asks

“No,” She breathes before steadying herself and starting the walk to the house.

The island looks exactly the same and somehow wildly different than what she remembers. As she looks around at all the familiar rocks and trees she begins to understand that the island isn’t what’s different, She is. Her eyes have changed, giving her the ability to see the headache inducing complexity of shapes and colors that were blended and muddied before. Beautiful memories of her childhood sit beside the knowledge of lies and control. She can see it all and it overwhelms her.

It doesn’t take her long to find where the letter is hidden. She opens it with shaky hands and reads the last words her grandfather wrote to her.

-o-

Rey,

You probably have so many questions and I’ll do my best to answer them before I have to do what I have to do. I’m going to die now, I’ll make sure they kill me or I’ll shoot myself. I can’t be brought in and questioned. If they find you they’ll use you against me until I crack. There are people who count on me, what I know could bring down an entire organization.

You’re what’s called an Omega. The medication I give you suppresses it, but even with the medication it’s who you are. Omegas are kind and caring, meant to serve others. They’re also strong and resilient, I know you’ll escape this island. I’ve included directions to a safe house that I had set up just in case. Rey, I only have one month of medication for you. When it runs out you’ll go into what is called a heat. It will be painful but you’ll be ok. Do not leave the safehouse after you run out of suppressants. People will be able to tell you’re an Omega and you will be in danger. I have it arranged for someone to bring food and supplies to you for as long as you need it. You won’t have to worry about anything and can spend as much time as you need living there, even your whole life if you want.

There’s a family, the Solo’s. A man, Ben Solo, was assigned to be your mate when you were just a little girl. They’re a good family and one day when you're ready they’ll protect you and love you. There's a file about them at the safehouse. They’re the ones who are here now but their issue isn’t with you, it’s with me. They think that I’ve been hurting you for the past several years.

You’re probably wondering why, why didn’t I tell you about any of this.

Twenty years ago I made a decision that ended up haunting me forever. I gave the go ahead to kidnap the child of a politician, one who was my friend. My men tortured this child and sent him back to his parents broken. We needed to get a law passed that now feels so trivial. I lost my soul that day and five years later, in direct consequence to that choice I lost my son and his wife, your parents. They tried to take you too that night to return the favor, thankfully they didn’t succeed. That boy is now a man and what I didn’t consider 20 years ago is that I may have been creating a monster, and by monster I mean someone exactly like me. Be careful Rey, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. It’s not fair but life never is.

I brought you here after your parents died vowing to keep you safe, to raise you right and give you a childhood away from pain, one I hadn’t given your father. I was supposed to hand you off to the Solo’s when you turned eighteen but the day you presented as an Omega and I saw your pain I did something rash, I gave you my suppressants. I just wanted a little more time with you but as soon as my medication wore off all those feelings of inadequacy and failure to protect your father came crashing back. I let myself spiral into my Alpha biology. Even as I write this I feel a sense of intense need to protect you. I failed to protect my Omega and failed my child. I can’t fail you Rey. I kept telling myself that one day I would have to let you go but every time I thought about it I just couldn’t. It may be selfish but I couldn’t let go of you. It turns out that life isn’t worth much without the people you love, and I love you Rey.

I hope I did the right thing. I hope that when you come out of your hiding place and find this letter you’ll understand why I did everything I did.

I love you Rey

-Grandfather.

Rey lets the letter fall to the ground. She starts taking steps back until she hits the wall. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, for there to be some explanation that would make everything ok, that would refute everything she’s been told about him. It doesn’t.

What hurts her now is that she doesn’t feel anger. He was her captor, lied to her just as much as everyone else in her life. If he was standing in front of her now she would scream at him and lock herself away. She would run from the island and not look back. He’s not in front of her though, he’s dead, and she loved him. She feels deep and true love for someone who murdered, tortured, lied, a criminal. How can she love someone like that? Her chest tightens and she starts feeling lightheaded.

What if she had stayed hidden like she was supposed to that evening? What if she came out and found the letter, had time to process everything and decide when and if she wanted to call the Solo’s.

She feels tired and trapped. It doesn’t feel good to be back on the island, it feels just as much a prison as the Solo’s house and she wants to leave. She gathers the letter and directions to the safe house.

She has one more thing she has to see, hopefully she’s able to. Hopefully the cleverly hidden security system wasn't found during the ransacking of her home. She walks to the hidden cabinet and uses her thumb print hoping that it will let her in.

And it does.

-o-

“Where is she?” Ben asks.

“Don’t worry Solo, we’ll find your little Omega after we deal with him.”

Knight. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t notice any of them that night, only Ben, only her Alpha.

“You can come nicely.” Knight gives a sly smile as he pulls out a gun

“Or not.”

Sheev pulls out a pistol in turn and Ben looks back and forth between the men.

“You have three seconds to leave before I start shooting… Three,” Sheev starts.

Knight smiles and Ben's eyes widen.

“Two,” He continues.

“Don’t,” Ben cries but it’s too late. The shot is firing off and Ben is standing there shocked, looking at the blood pouring out of sheev.

“One,” Knight finishes.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Ben says.

“He was torturing your girl wasn’t he?”

“I wanted but… This is not… You aimed for his head… You murdered him.” Ben says. He looks away from the scene and his eyes land on something.

“Rey.” He breathes “Don’t you fucking go near her Knight.” He yells before running out of frame.

-o-

Rey doesn't even react, her mind won’t let her. She slowly turns off the monitor and walks to her old bedroom, looking around at the mess all over the floor. She finds her little stuffed stingray and stands there with it for a few minutes before walking all the way to the ocean.

She wades in, holds the stuffed animal to her chest, and lets herself feel. She feels everything all at once, from her parents death to the moment she stepped out of that window, the good and bad. There's use in objects that comfort, that remind someone of their past and where they came from. There’s also use in letting go. In realizing that there’s no going back and the only way forward is to say goodbye. In taking a quiet moment to thank an object before letting it go. It’s symbolic but sometimes symbolism can be so strong that it becomes reality.

“I love you,” She whispers.

Rey lets the little stingray fall into the ocean and be carried away and with it goes a weight she’s held in her for as long as she can remember.

She makes her way back to the boat, stopping when she sees a little flower. She leans over and picks it wavering with it for several moments before putting it in her bag.

“Did it go well?”

Rey settles in the boat and gives a small smile.

“Yes, I think so at least.”

-o-

Rey is exhausted by the time they arrive back. She doesn’t feel safe there though. The safe house isn’t far, a few hours to walk. She can make it, she knows she can. She may fall over from exhaustion by the time she arrives but she has to go.

“we can give you a ride wherever you need.”

“It’s better you don’t know where I’m going, safer that way for all of us.”

Poe disappears inside of the hose and Finn pulls Rey into a hug. Poe comes back and stuffs some food in her bag before joining them in the hug. He looks at her awkwardly.

“He wasn’t coming after you. He knew where you were. You used a money card Rey, they can be tracked.”

Rey bites her lip and looks down feeling dumb for not knowing that.

“I think he genuinely just wanted to know you’re safe. There was something he wasn’t saying, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Rey says as she pulls away.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them and now leaving. Rey takes a step back and then turns away.

“Stay safe Rey,” Finn calls out as she walks slowly down the driveway.

She turns back and gives one last smile and wave before turning on the road.

[d0ntw0rrybehappy]

i’m going insane lol

so i feel like the next step in working hard is to not even perceive the work i’m doing as tiring. (rereading this it’s making me lol.) it seems weird that i find a part time job at a restaurant this exhausting? and like i can’t pretend that i’m not tired, but i have to somehow take better care of myself and set the conditions to not be tired from it.

i’ve been thinking about baudrillard/barthes a lot still -- pleasantly surprised that their theories are interesting to apply to any- and everything. for example, they both go into how every statement can also be read as its opposite or negation. so, to quote baudrillard, saying “i am not afraid of communism” also implies that communism is something you should be afraid of.

i’ve been using this as a kind of paranoid way to gain insight into why people tell me that i am “strong” because i don’t really know what that means. (other things i am told i am often: sweet, intense). it’s like what they’re saying is, there’s some kind of context, a milieu of weak people i’m being compared to. or like they want to reassure me that i am strong, because i actually come across as how i feel: like a particularly lost, unstable, emotional, sensitive, and lonely person.

i can��t with restaurant work anymore. it. SUCKS. i want to fucking get out, i am like a rat scrabbling at the walls of a glass aquarium. all novelty has worn off, all misguided overtures of honest work or “people skills.” and i’m still stuck here, still holding my breath in the deep end until i can find the eject button. i am tired, my body aches. my body aches!!

i want to just grind my way out (here we are with barthes again -- well if you truly wanted to do that you’d just shut the fuck up and do it instead of writing about it), but here i am, eating another round of chocolate (i don’t smoke, i don’t have sex, i truly just eat), constantly fucking hungry. then like a bull mowing into a red flag i realize i have been grinding...in a completely useless direction. it is like my passion for learning about things gets scattered every which way and i just can’t start, every path is equally exciting and awful and the injunction to “choose” is not “clicking” in my “head.” it’s like my mind cracked open at some point in my teenage years (when i started smoking weed, when my child universe was decisively fractured by a friend) and now the crack is snowing fireworks and glitter and i shift in and out of unreality. 

reality is almost too painful to bear. nobody’s happy: you can find contentment by accepting your current lot, but “happiness" is really just contrast or relief from pain. it comes in and out. most people are too lazy or small-minded or too busy complaining to feel content, or their lives are just too twiggy, got too long in the wrong direction or are just too fucking hard. i guess i still am happy, and still love life, in a sort of ferocious and bloody and hungry way. 

love is bleak, though. i barely even know how to define it anymore. (culture defines a love which we yearn for; we experience “love” insofar as our real love fleetingly resembles this model, only to come up short -- baudrillard). re: love, to use my mom’s favorite school-of-hard-knocks memory device for the laws of thermodynamics -- a subject she took? -- you can’t win, you can’t break even, you can’t get outta the game (and death and taxes). you are going to get royally FUCKED by love just like everybody else, and you are STILL gonna play, you beautiful mortal fool. like the tarot cards lauren dealt me, putting away the three cards she’d used to describe my near future and then flipping through the entire deck, picture side up, without realizing that i was quietly watching it describe my whole entire life -- clinging at the edge of my seat to see some eventual combination that spelled good, strong, lasting love and seeing only struggle, happiness, struggle, pain, struggle, and finally ending, at my death, in a small statue made of gold. 

see also, other realities i hate to swallow: nearly all interpersonal problems are insurmountable and better left undealt with, and work basically sucks unless you are very lucky and very smart. 

work. let’s go back to that. i used to think my work would be respected off its merit; now i see the merit in literally fucking my way up. i wonder if i should even be an artist at all. artists are kinda like showponies or whores; they’re not actually important. the more honest and wonderful they are, the less important they probably are, like schoolteachers. they have an impact on an individual level. but on a societal level, you have no control as an artist. you just get played by bigger fish. better to find a way to have your hands on the gears; that way you have a shot at making a higher-order change to society. but alas, the (capitalist) system is totally out of everyone’s hands and will keep running as usual no matter what you do, still savage in equal amounts, i think. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. but at this point i’d give a toe or finger to work for someplace like youtube. at least it’s reached critical mass where i could do something cool and make a difference with emerging media. 

that or i pander to whatever blathering brain-melting slop, drivel, they’re putting on tv for kids and adults. or manage to convince a smaller nonprofit that i am “good at talking to people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds,” whatever the hell that fucking means. or maybe, ugh god, i’ll work for an ad agency? or do digital strategy? and um, i could say some shit about how capitalism is darwinism and money is a form of social control that works so well because it’s out of the hands of any individual person, and i should probably just stick with art and believe in it, and maybe like, apply for grants. but i want a job, a full-time job. i want stability and enough money that i don't feel guilty buying new underwear and i don't want to hustle to keep the tap running month-to-month and i want to spend the majority of my time doing something i find fulfilling. and soon enough i'll get that, and all my dreams will come true: i’m going to get married and become a fat mom taking my kids to piano practice and saying “the meeting went on forever today,” and i’ll have a husband who never cleans the house enough, and then we’ll get divorced and he’ll find someone 20 years younger and i’ll live out the rest of my years semi-happily alone and i don’t know how i will ever have time to make art again. or if i do i just hope it’s not hobby-like, second-rate.

i wish i could have (feel) the bare-faced honesty and love of sha’carri richardson hugging her grandmother after she worked her ass off for a race. instead everything is this weird simulation where i never feel like i love anybody enough or like i’m working hard enough. i can’t speak honestly except when i am writing about myself (strong, sweet, intense, narcissistic) or things i have noticed, as directed to my own imaginary friend. when i try to communicate irl (or, worst of all, “be real”) it’s all so overthought, overwrought, self-conscious. the only person who knows my real private self is the girl winking at me on my black lives matter poster. i hope she doesn’t mind being here in my room. ducky, the stuffed animal brandon gave me, was also supportive but i put him away because it seemed bad to tell future guys that my stuffed animal is “the child of divorce.” and now /you guys/ know me a little bit, because i took the time to pretend you were all my imaginary friend, my dearest pen pal who laughs at all my jokes and gets all my references, and stopped pretending i was anything besides what’s written here. 

and i think, like, a lot of people now live in this weird simulation? and are so confused about romantic and familial love to the point where everyone is getting off on family members fucking each other and can’t decide if it’s normal to think kids are hot? but i guess that was always some weird fucked-up demon side of human existence? another thing i’m supposed to accept. (also sorry trigger warning.) and another thing i took for granted as a child, that most people, if not everyone, is weird/gross/evil, but now that my mind is cracked this shocks me all over again and i seek some sort of explanation. it’s like i can’t find a real hunk of closeness anywhere. i’m close to my own family, but in my other relationships we’re either too distant or too close and i’m desperately searching for just some normal friends. and to be able to give a speech where i tell someone i really love them and for it to ring true. but i try to be grateful that i live in driving distance to the beach and there’s air conditioning and once i stop being a stupid baby there’s probably more friends and work and stuff out there for me. and then i’ll have some new problem.

[studyingsobriety]

Why Did I Get Help NOW

This was my second exercise for my rehab program. It's called "Why Now?" The purpose is to explain why we got help now and not a month ago or a month later. What led up to the point where I decided that I need help right now? Then, I had to write what could've happened had I not decided to get help.

Here's my story:

I was sitting in my bathroom floor. I was home alone, depressed, and wanted to get that daily high, but I wanted more this time. So I had a 100 pack of whippets (whipped cream chargers or cartridges of nitrous oxide which you can inhale). I felt guilty, ashamed, depressed, alone. I was having a panic attack so bad that I was retching into the toilet while I loaded up another whippet and hit another after another.

I knew whippets could cause seizures or even kill you, I had done enough research on it. But I liked them too much to care, they eased the pain. Part of me even hoped in that moment something dangerous would happen. That was my "rock bottom," as some call it. That was when I knew I had to change. This happened around Christmas time in 2020. As the days and weeks went by, I stopped doing the, everyday like I had been. But I would still give in every time the cravings were too intense to ignore. One day, I had another breakdown after using again. I was "sick and tired of feeling sick and tired." I was determined, and I was whippet-free for 3 weeks.

Until one day, I had another panic attack, and those cravings just came back. "It'll make you feel better." "They numb your body and your mind." "It'll make your emotions less intense." All of which were true while you're using...but after, it only gets worse. But I didn't think about the aftermath until I was sitting in my car, hitting a whippet, when someone walked up to my window. It was my roommates...I could see their hearts breaking, and it broke mine too. I wish I could say that's what brought me here and that I haven't done them since. But I did them the next day. And the next. And the next... Next thing I knew I had been using everyday again for a week.

I drained my bank account, both checking and savings. I would ask my parents for money for food and gas, but that's not what I was spending it on. I relied on my boyfriend and friends for any food. This whole time I was lying to everyone around me. Friends suspected but were too afraid to speak up. That last time I used, it was a Monday, I had class at 12. I told myself, "well, I'm going to be late anyway, might as well get some," so I did. I didn't go to class. I hit my last whippet. I had to use the bathroom, so I walked into a building on campus to use the restroom. I suddenly started crying, uncontrollably.

I felt that guilt and shame again, like I was a liar, a drug addict, I was hiding and taking money from my parents. I felt like a bad person, like I didn't deserve anything good. On top of that, I was having suicidal thoughts. I broke down, I asked my friends for help, I told them the truth. I'm lucky to have such understanding and supportive friends. One of them told me I should call the 24-hour on-call counselor we have on campus, so the next day, I did. She really, really wanted me to go to a rehab, but she wanted me to be in an inpatient rehab, which is a huge step and a big decision that I wasn't ready to make.

She set up an assessment for me with an inpatient rehab, but told me I didn't have to go if I wasn't ready. I've been in inpatient care before. In 2019, I admitted myself to a hospital for having suicidal thoughts. I had some...interesting experiences in there that scarred me a little. Of course, a rehab is different than a psych ward, but I think that lonely feeling would still be there. So I started researching outpatient rehab treatment programs. The first one I found was Lion Rock. I talked to them, and it sounded like a good fit for me. I wouldn't have to drop out of school for the semester, leave work for a few weeks, and I could still have my main support system with me (my friends and family). So it just seemed to be the best fit for me. And that's how I got here.

Now, here is what could have happened if I didn't reach out for help:

Had I not reached out for help or told anyone about my continuous use, I would've continued to use. It would've continued to be that endless cycle of "I'm depressed, some whippets would help" and "I did whippets again, I feel like I'm just a stupid drug addict." The depression would've progressed. I would continue to drown my anxiety and depression in intoxication. I would hide it from all the people willing to hold me accountable, because I wouldn't want to be held accountable. I'd rather get high than do what's best for me.

At some point after using regularly and hiding it for weeks or even months, there is only these negative outcomes of continuous use with no help:

I would be mid-whippet when my heart decides to stop or my body has a seizure from my organs getting so cold. Someone would find me in my car, with the canister still in my hand, with my lips purple, and my face cold. Whoever it would've been to find me, it would be a horrific scene for them. It would likely traumatize them for life.

I would be so depressed, so suicidal, I'd be blaming myself for everything. I'd tell myself, "this is who I am now." I would use the whippets as an act of self harm, hoping it'd kill me or give me a seizure. Praying that I'm putting myself in danger. It would be what I want. I'd want to physically hurt myself so that people can physically see my emotional pain. People don't understand what you're going through until they see it physically. Since people can't see your mental health, it's harder to understand how severe it gets sometimes unless you physically show them. And in that moment of self harming by whippets, I would hope I could physically show them my pain.

I would continue to use in a riskier manner. What I mean is, I would continue to drive while high on whippets. Driving down the road, loading one up, hitting it, holding my breath until I load up the next one, exhale, and hit another. It would be a high possibility I could kill myself. Or someone else. Worse case scenario, I kill someone else and am totally safe myself and have to live the rest of my life with the consequences. I could kill somebody's child, somebody's wife or husband, somebody's best friend, somebody's mother or father. I could have another incident where I black out while driving except actually passing out this time. I could run into a tree, run a pedestrian over, hit a motorcyclist, or just have a horrific freak vehicular accident. Granted, I could be totally fine and never actually get to the point of passing out while driving, but all of these are possibilities.

I could be sitting in my parked car or even driving down the road, hitting whippets, and a cop could possibly catch a glimpse of me inhaling something that doesn't quite look like a cigarette or vape at all. If they were to catch a glimpse and question what I'm doing, they could easily come up to my car or pull me over and ask what I was just doing. As someone who doesn't lie well, I'd freeze up, but there's no way I'd admit to a cop that I'm inhaling nitrous oxide in public or on the road. I'd probably say something like, "Oh, I was just sitting here on my phone," or "Oh, I'm just driving home, I was just hitting my vape." But they'd suspect. The bigger problem is if they'd ask me to step out of the car. That's where I'd be terrified. During my use, because I would do them so frequently in my car, there'd be piles of cartridges and boxes for whip-its! in the back of my car. They would find the numerous cartridges filling up my console, underneath the seat, in the cup holder, everywhere. The cop might not know right off the bat what it is exactly, but it would definitely be suspicious. They would ask, "what are these?" I would--not being able to lie--tell them they are whipped cream chargers. That they are used to make whipped cream. They would ask me, "why are there so many in your car?" That...I don't know what I would say. But I only see myself getting arrested at this point and possibly being reported to a rehab and being court-ordered to attend an inpatient rehab. Inpatient rehabs are scary to imagine, but being forced to be in one...even scarier.

"Whippets" could turn into something else. Like how marijuana turned into Adderall. And Adderall turned into the whippets. How do I know I wouldn't find a new substance to replace the whippet addiction? I don't know. I had tried Xanax a couple times and really liked it and craved it often, I just didn't have a source of finding it easily. I remember worrying Xanax was the next move. How would I know this replacement of one drug to another wouldn't lead me to heroin, meth, crack, or something terrible? Something that would take over my life the way marijuana, Adderall, and whippets did but is much harder to hide, harder to control. How do I know I wouldn't fuck up my brain from all the drugs? I could kill so many brain cells that I can't function. I was once hospitalized for severe anxiety and depression, I've met people who can't even function like a human because they were so messed up from the drugs they've used. I met people who couldn't relax without some xanny. How do I know that wouldn't be me in the future? I didn't know, I still don't know. It could've been me if I had continued.

Like I said, any of these scenarios would have been possibilities had I not reached out for help sooner. They were all possibilities when I was using and that's scary to think about. I have to say that I am grateful that I reached out for help myself. I wanted help before one of these scenarios became a reality. I am doing this all for me.

My takeaway from this exercise:

Writing out what led up to the point of getting help makes it clearer just how bad it really was. It's kind of sad. I knew it was a rough time, but reading it in black and white really opens my eyes, and it's crazy.

Writing what could've happened really makes me just feel...like the face palm emoji. Because not only were these scenarios possible had I continued to use, but they were all possible when I was using. And that's really scary. These scenarios really paint a picture, and not a pretty one. Overall, this exercise made me incredibly grateful that I decided to get help when I did. 

[crestomanci]

Synopsis

             “The Lost Princess” follows the story of Nick Sullivan, a girl that finds out, on her sixteenth birthday, that she is the daughter of a queen and is summoned to ascend to the throne as the princess of Combellmont island. She initiates, then, a difficult and dangerous journey that could put not only her life at risk as everyone’s she loves.

Chapter 1

           What do I know about my mom? What a tough question. Besides all the biological processes I’ve learned in school, like genetics and stuff, I only know some physical characteristics: she was tall, the prettiest lady my father has ever known, and she smelled like mint. And that’s all I know because whenever I talked about her, my father always was already drunk and I needed to help him out and take him from his armchair to his bed.

           I’ve never tried to pressure him in order to get information, though, since he always looked so ashamed of himself the next morning and I didn’t want to make him feel sad… Or make me sad. After all, the feelings I’ve grown towards my mom were migrating between sadness and anger. How could someone leave their child with some guy she’d only met once and then never tries to keep in touch? Okay, I was lucky enough that my dad was a cool guy and took me in, but this doesn’t make her less guilty at all.

           I wonder if she ever wanted to know where her daughter could be for these past 15 years. If she has ever asked herself if I was okay, if I went to school, if my dad treated me nicely… Nothing? Then, after a while, I started to believe that she never loved me. That I was a mistake she made during a U2 concert after tons of beer and that I didn’t matter to her.

I got up from my bed and decided not to think about her. The less I knew, the less it would hurt, and today I was supposed to be happy, right? Because it was my sixteenth birthday. “Happy Birthday, Nick”, I said to myself. My dad was surely still asleep and I would only see him at night.

           “Oh, crap!” twenty minutes late meant that I was late to school and this would be my third time this month. I ran as fast as I could and was able to catch the bus. Luckly, the driver was George and he always stopped for me, even when I was running late.

           “Andy again, Nick?” he asked.

           I nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Third delay of the month… This would make me stay in school after class and then I would be late for work at Tiffany&Thommy, which would not please Miss Picket. Will “I’m so so sorry, but today is my birthday and everything is nuts” work as an excuse? No. Everyone in town knew me and my dad, so it was known that whenever I was late it was because of him.

           George offered me a little red box with a white bow wrapping it around and a tiny card. “Hey, you didn’t think I'd forget, did you?”

           “George, you shouldn’t have! Thanks” I thanked and my cheeks turned red while I was getting the present, in a mist of hurry and happiness (after all, I was already late and he had taken his time to hand in the present despite knowing everyone was waiting to carry on the trip!).

           “That’s nothing, Nick. Tomorrow, tell me if you liked it. Have a great day and a happy birthday!”

           I thanked again while I started to look for a seat. The real bus to Abeley High School was deactivated because no one used it. Most of the students didn’t need to use public transportation since they had their own cars or chauffeurs, and so every single day I had to take the only bus that drove all the way to my school, when, in reality, it dropped me off two blocks away.  After spending a whole life in Abeley, I was already used to it, but I wished - as if I was about to blow my birthday cake candles - this year I’d get a car. Or that at least my dad would accept that I should start to study at the school he now works at.

I got up when we were getting closer to the stop and hurried up while going down the stairs, and ran to school.

Yeah, I was definitely late. And obviously I had to face Mr. William, after going to the principal’s office. I smiled bluntly, and then tried to sneak into his class.

“Oh, Nicolle! I can’t believe someone hasn’t given you a clock yet. I mean, we have been starting the classes at the same time since 1864, and yet…”

           I heard my entire class smothering a laughter as I gave Mr. William the piece of paper that allowed me to take his class, which was prior given to me by the principal, and, then, I went to my desk.

           Today’s history class was about smaller islands and countries all over the world. Internally, I kept telling myself that there was no use to learning all of that, once we lived in a small city closer to New York, so that subject should have been self-explanatory to us and, even though Abeley should be a school for rich people, the greatest part of us, including me, would never travel abroad. Like ever. Let alone stepping on a small island somewhere that was probably built to make money from tourists. Whatever. Mr. William had already had his moment of glory today and I didn’t need a lecture anyways, so I decided to loosen my hair and put on my earphones again, as I kept pretending that I was paying attention.

           Everyone’s goal in Abeley was to get into an Ivy League and, for the unlucky ones like me, the ultimate goal was to get a scholarship or a way out of this town. It felt weird not knowing what to do or what I’d like to become, but when people ask me about what I would like to be when I grow up, I used to lie and say I’d like to become a lawyer. Knowing my dad’s behavior, it would make total sense and that was enough to get me out of that subject during conversations, after being told that I should “hang in there” in order to become what I used to say.

           The truth was that it would be enough if I turned eighteen and convinced my father that we should leave this town or state. To build a new life in which we weren’t pity case or a subject to gossip spreaders.

           Tiffany&Thommy was a library and bookstore two blocks away from my school. It used to be owned by two brothers who have lived here since the city was founded, and I was a part-timer there. After Mr. Thommy Picket’s death, his sister needed help and I offered myself, as I needed money because my dad’s salary as a Spanish teacher was not something we could brag about.

           I apologized for being late to Miss Picket and she (with her always pleasing humor) told me to find my computer and sit down before her nephew could find the cash register and steal everything they’ve made so far, like he did last month,

           “Good evening, Nick. Are you early again?” I hear Rupert saying with his annoying British accent. He was sitting on my chair, staring at me with his weird brown eyes and dark hair.

           “Yes, Rupert. And thank you for keeping my seat warm. Now you can go.” The best solution with him was to use irony and sarcasm. After all, wanting or not, he was the future owner of that store and his aunt wasn’t looking that good anyway.

           “I don’t know why my aunt keeps you here. Or why did she hire you in the first place.”

           “Your aunt knows me since I was born, we live in the same neighborhood and she trusts me.” I was as rough as possible and then started to browse through the record book on the decrepit computer.

           He kept there, looking at what I was doing, as he was laying on the counter. I waited until he left for five minutes, but I was never known for my patience.

           “So? Do you want a book or something?” I asked, trying to smile.

           “Not really.” he replied and kept staring at me. Then, he nodded and left.

           I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, while I watched him leave.

           On my way home, I decided to open the present given by George when I was already on the bus. It was a little pendant shaped like a heart. Those in which you can put a picture on both sides. I loved it. I’m going to choose a picture of me and my dad, I thought as I got off the bus.

The weather was terrible as always and the fog made me put on my hood. When I was close to my building, I saw a man wearing a suit leaving and getting in a luxury black car that was parked on the other side of the street. I had no idea someone in town had something to do with the White House, I thought, trying not to laugh as I passed by the lobby.

The elevator was, once again, being fixed and it would take at least forty-eight hours return, so I went up the stairs hearing some of my neighbors complaining about the elevator like that would fix it faster.

After finding my keys, I saw my dad sitting on his armchair that, this time, was facing the door. He looked more tired and sadder than usual and was holding a letter.

“Dad?” I called, leaving my backpack in the hall and getting closer to him.

“Oh, Nick, you’re here” he answered and I could see that his eyes looked swollen and red. He has cried. I sighed and looked at the table, but I didn’t see any beer bottles there.

“What happened?”

“I need to talk to you. And I ordered pizza, so you don’t need to cook today. Change your clothes and take a bath, I know you must be tired.”

“That’s okay, dad. I’m fine” I claimed, feeling a little bit afraid.

He didn’t say anything else, just stood up and went to his room. I kept staring at him while he closed the door.

Ordering pizza on my birthday was almost a habit, but the conversation part… I started to bite my upper lip and picked up my backpack on the floor, but refused to take a bath. I felt nervous and anxious and waited to hear if his bedroom door would open so that I could leave mine.

When I left, he was in the living room. He had opened and served himself with a pizza slice and soda. He looked a little better as he smiled, so I sat down.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” It was all he said, giving me a sad smile. We started to eat after that.

After I finished, I felt like something bad was about to happen and I realized he was looking at me, God knows for how long, and that the letter he was previously holding was still there, in his hand. I stopped and looked at him, wanting to know for how long he would stare without saying anything.

A couple minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to me. Then, he finally started:

“Nick, did I talk about your mom yesterday?”

I took a deep breath and felt a little bit relieved to realize that it wasn’t something that important after all. I was used to that kind of conversation, even though it made me sad, since he usually stood up for her in the end.

“Yes, dad, but just the usual, you know, blond, tall, smelled like mint” I remembered while I was taking my dish and got up.

“Nicolle, sit down, please” he stared at me with his blue eyes and it looked like it was an order.

I had no idea what was going on, but if it was serious enough for my dad to boss me around…

“Okay.” I agreed, sitting down again.

He looked like he was trying to control himself so that he could continue his speech.

“Nick, you know your mom handed you in when you were only six months, right?” he asked and I nodded, leaning on the couch. “Child, what I have to say is serious and I need you to handle it until the very end.”

He paused. The pizza I ate started to move around in my stomach, bothering me.

“Your mom didn’t leave you here because she wanted to, but because she needed to keep you away from the place she lived in. She had to leave you here, with me, so that I could take care of you and make you a good person. When I met her, we spent the whole week together. She told me about her world and I realized it wasn’t easy. Our story wasn’t just a concert and a single night, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Actually, I’m sorry about everything I have to tell you today… You can’t imagine how much it hurts to tell everything like this. But the point is: she loved you, as much as I do love you. And last week, I discovered that unfortunately your mom has passed away.” He told me with every strength he had, even though he let some tears roll down his cheeks, which he cleaned fast. Then, he took a box from the table, one I haven’t seen before, opened it and showed me everything that was inside.

“I thought that it wasn't a good idea to tell you, dear. You always seemed hurt about your mom, but, then, today I received a message and now I have no other choice but to tell you the truth. The man that came here earlier wanted to wait for you, but I begged him to let me speak with you first. I needed to tell you the whole story. You’ve probably already studied about Europe and must know that there are a lot of small countries there. Your mom lived in one of those countries. Actually, your mom ruled one of them. When I met her, she had just received a convocation to claim the throne of Combellmont and, like any 18-year-old girl, she wanted… An adventure before her real life began. Like in the romances she used to read.

“We met when I went to live in New York. She came on a trip, running away from her hotel, and we met in the middle of Central Park. It was love at first sight and we had the best week in the world. Nine days, to be exact, but she always needed to go back and sleep at the hotel, so I left her on the street corner so that the guard that escorted her would be aware of me. Until the last day, when her sister saw and denounced us. She was grounded after that and I got beaten up by her guards. And well, I thought I’d never see her again, so needless to say it was a surprise when she came back, fifteen months later, knocking on my old Brooklyn apartment with you in her arms. She asked me to take care of you, keeping you safe and sound, away from her world. She asked me to give you a normal life until the day she would come back and explain everything. That she would do it once you turned 18… I wished she had time to do that…

“Ever since, I could only watch you grow and kept collecting everything that I saw about her. Her marriage with an ambassador that was twice her age, her coronation as queen, the birth to her first child for the media, the death of her husband and, most recently, her own death, not long after giving birth to her second child. Oh, Nick, I would have loved to tell you all of this at the right time, but it so happens that you need to know it now. This afternoon, your mom’s kingdom counselor came in and brought this letter to you. You see: with her death, it would be pleasing if her oldest royal child ascended to the throne, but she’s only a kid! And as you are, in fact, the oldest of them all… They demand you there for some kind of training. And, being crystal clear: you are obligated to do this, or they will appeal to judicial measures to make you do it anyway. They can even take you by force, Nick.”            After hearing all of that, I ran to the bathroom. My head was spinning, my face was wet with sweat and tears, and I wanted to throw up every slice of pizza I ate. My dad didn’t even dare to chase me, he just let me go.

I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My head was exploding with the wave of information I’ve received and I’ve never been so shocked in my entire life. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed there, hiding, puking, crying. I was hugging my knees against my chest, just hearing my heartbeats. How come my life turned upside down in less than one hour? My mom, a queen. Country, children, baby, my dad, kingdom… Those words were spinning in my head and making me dizzy. How come my father hid everything from me? How come my mom found it better that way? And, mainly, what was I supposed to do now? I had no clue how someone could actually obligate me to do something, after all, besides taking care of my father and the house, I’ve never had to lead, or been a leader.

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/748079?utm_source=shared_web 

https://www.wattpad.com/story/274223573-the-lost-princess 

[wingedweasel]

Would you rather...

Sorry for the super long post, but...

So my eyes were i a hostage situation with Twitter earlier, and I noticed a bunch of people posting things like ‘would you rather have $X or $Y?’ where x is an extremely huge amount and Y is a comically smaller amount. One was along the lines of ‘would you rather have one billion dollars all at once or 15 cents every day?’ The point of these is to bring up the idea of passive income and how it’s better to have steady income over large lump sums.

However, when it’s these comically small amounts, it would be better to have the lump sum. There was one that offered one million vs one dollar every day. Ummm, the million...? Every time. I’d choose the lump sum. Sure if it’s something like one million vs 10,000 every month, then okay, yeah, the parsed out payments would be better. I mean, yeah, it would take 10 years to get the same amount, but you would be getting more in the long run. Also, in these hypotheticals, there is no end date, so taking the monthly payment would be better since you could assume that you would keep getting the payments until you die. 

But - and this is the thing that got me questioning if I was missing something - why would anyone take the super small amount? If it was $1 a day, rounding all months to have 30 days, then you’d only be getting 360 a year, 3600 in 10 years. Why would anyone want that compared to having the lump sum of 1 million? 

What could you even do in that situation anyway? We’ve all seen those commercials “With $1 a day, you could save the life of a child/animal” uh...but I wouldn’t be spending $1 a day. I’d have to pay a large amount, that  yes, technically comes out to $1 a day, but I wouldn’t be getting a daily charge of $1. Getting $1 a day wouldn’t help anyone. As I said before, that’s less than 1000 a year. Even if it was somehow able to pass along to your descendants, it would take 2-3 of your descendants’ lifetimes to get to 1 million. And this is all assuming that you never touch any of that money in all of these lifetimes. 

I’m sorry, but no. That’s not gonna work for me. Especially if it’s something stupid like 15 cents a day. No, gimme the lump sum and I’d show you that I could make more with that lump sum than any low daily amount. 

This piggy backs off my belief of ‘sort yourself out before trying to sort other people out.’ This stems from having to grow up watching the people around me run themselves ragged trying to help others out of financial binds while they didn’t have the funds to do. I’d usually get the shaft because of that, and any financial decisions I had to make - when I was actually able to make them - had to go through this kind of tiered system and rank what I wanted to do over the wants (not needs) of other people. It sucked, still does since I’m still stuck in this system because of the decisions of other people’s past mistakes and temper tantrums. But yeah, that’s why I believe that a person should help themselves before they help others. I get that this comes off as selfish or egocentric, very ‘me first’ Americanism, and on one hand it is, but it doesn’t mean I (and the hypothetical others) don’t give to the poor or help others when they need it. It just means that I don’t think it’s good for you when you are guilted (or tricked depending on how you look at it) into opening a credit card to a tire shop when you don’t even have a license so that your sister can get her car fixed even though she has a very well paid job, but for some reason can’t afford to pay her bills and continues to not learn from her past mistakes by spending all her money as soon as she gets paid, constantly going on trips to Vegas, and seems to be always doing some money spending activity every weekend. 

Why are you asking if this was something that happened to me? What ever gave you that idea?

Anyway, getting back on tract of proving the lump sum is better: First, obviously, I’d pay off my debts. For me, I’m fortunate enough that it isn’t a massive amount, still a lot, but not hundreds of thousands. I won’t have to worry about a huge amount that I have to pay every month and not have to decide which bill gets the late fee this time. School loans, credit cards, not so much debits but a few people have gifted me various amounts to help pay my tuition, so I’d want to pay them back. I don’t have to because they were gifts, but I feel guilty that I had to ask them for money. 

Next, I would sort out my living situation. I would move to a better neighborhood in which I would buy a house there. I would also take the time to learn to drive and buy a car. I would have to outfit my new home, and while that can take a good chunk of money, second hand stores, Craigslist and the castaways from friends would help with a lot of that. I’d need to outfit almost everything because I would not be living with anyone else except my fur babies. In this fantasy, I’m saying fuck everyone else, I’m moving far far away from my family of leeches and never seeing seeing them again. I might send birthday/holiday cards/gifts to the ones I kinda get on with like my nieces and the one uncle that is actually a decent person, but everyone else can piss right the fuck off. They took advantage of me whenever I had money - more often when I didn’t have money and somehow managed to squeeze everything out of me then - so why should I help them when I have money now? Harsh? Absolutely. Petty? As fuck. 

After that, I’d invest. Obviously. If the point of the would you rather was to teach about the benefits of sustained constant income, then investing is the best way to do that. Investing in companies that have a history of doing well. Having a diverse portfolio is something that I’ve heard wealthy people talk about, so if one investment doesn’t pan out, I wouldn’t lose everything. Sounds...sound. I’d also take the time to invest in me. I’d finally be able to afford the hobbies and skills that I couldn’t before. I’d take back up with music and be able to afford lessons. I do better when someone is beside me telling me what I’m doing wrong and showing me how to do it correctly. Ex, I tried learning Japanese outside of a class setting and just couldn’t wrap my head around the basic sentence structure: XはYです. For some reason, my brain couldn’t figure out that x and y were nouns and it basically translates to X is Y. My brain freaked out, and I just couldn’t. However, day 1 of class, the figurative lightbulb went off and went “oh.” and laughed for a solid 10 minuets as soon as I got home. Musical instruments are the same way. I’ve tried to lear guitar and violin several times, but all without an instructor. Can’t do it. Hiring a personal trainer would be helpful as well. Getting someone to kick me in the butt about my fitness would go a long way in helping me reach my goals. Language tutors as well. I’ve maxed out my ability to learn at the community collage I take classes at, even though it’s been over 10 years since I took those classes, but I passed them so they’ve said screw you. While technically I could do all these things for free - there are various websites, YT tutorials, and Duolingo - like I said, I need that live teacher/student interaction for it to click. 

Finally, as I said above, help yourself before you help others, so now that I’ve helped myself, I can now start helping others. Not my family. Fuck them. However, there are friends that have helped me so much over the years, and now that there is money that I can actually use - remember those investments? They’d have started to see returns by now - I can now start ‘paying’ them back for all that they did. It may not always be money that they would give, just being a shoulder to cry on meant more than anything at times so they’d deserve something as compensation for putting up with my issues. However, because I would now be in a good place. I could literally afford to go ‘here, here is a little something to show how much you mean to me and as a small step in saying thank you for all that you did.’ I could also now go, ‘I see you are struggling, so here is something that you can use to help get out of the bad situation.’ This was - and still is - something that made me feel so guilty that I couldn’t do when I was younger. I’d see a friend need something - or even just really want, we were kids after all - but I sometimes couldn’t even spare a dollar to help them. Helping others also means gifting to charity. I have always wanted to be able to donate to charities, to give money to panhandlers - I don’t care some of them use the money for drugs or alcohol, the small amount who do do that shouldn’t cause you to not give to those who don’t - remember those commercials from before? Even if some of the charities suck major ass, there are some really good ones that I would love to be a donor. I could afford to be a Patron member for certain YTers, I could donate to small Twitch streamers. Kickstarters and GoFundMes would see my name on the donor list. Animal shelters and children’s hospitals; after school programs and community centers; friends and neighbors. I could do so much.

But it certainly wouldn’t happen if I received $1 a day. 

[mastreworld]

Be nosy-

1-50

I'm very nosy! 😛

That took me a second but here they are:

1. What’s your sexual orientation?

Grey-asexual, aro-adjacent, and bi... something (it’s complicated)

2. What are you obsessed with right now?

Playing Sims 2, but I feel like it’s about to shift. Not sure what’s next.

3. Ever done any drugs?

Not beyond alcohol, no. I wouldn’t be against trying space cake one day but that’s more for curiosity's sake.

4. What piercings do you want?

I have one in each ear; can’t think of any other I’d like to have.

5. How many people have you kissed?

Not sure... between 5 and 10 maybe? I’ve never been a fan of kissing tbh.

6. Describe your dream home.

With a space for everything so it doesn’t get so /#(&% cluttered.

7. Who are you jealous of?

No one that I can think of.

8. What’s your favorite show to binge?

Don’t have one right now. I’ve been watching “Cold Case” but that’s not really a show you can binge on since it’s so tragic. I do occasionally go on a “Final Destination” binge-watch though.

9. Do you watch porn?

No, I gave up on that decades ago because it was all so boring and disappointing. I can, however, enjoy gifs and pics.

10. Do you have a secret sideblog?

Not secret but I have a cat-blog @cattyfelines , one writing @mastrewritingupdates and one @naughtymastre that I no longer update because tumblr fucked it up in their sex-negativity 🙄

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

That... I really don’t know. I support teleporting as a way of traveling though.

12. What’s one of your fantasies?

To snuggle up against Loki in bed with my face against his neck, his arms around me and my leg over his hip... sorry, got a bit carried away in the details, heh.

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced?

Absolutely not! *shudder*

14. How would you spend a million dollars?

Making sure that I and my daughter remain financially secure for the foreseeable future. I would also finally feel free to donate to any causes I want to support, so I don’t feel so powerless in the world.

15. Are you in a relationship?

Nope, and I prefer singlehood.

16. Do you follow porn blogs?

I did, but they seem to have disappeared so I guess they got tired of Tumblr’s fuckery and moved elsewhere.

17. Are you angry with anyone right now?

Not unless I allow myself to think about it. My anger gets triggered by bullies and bigots, especially if they act controlling.

18. What tattoos do you want?

One of Loki’s helmet and the words “God of Mischief” and possibly one with some kind of cat.

19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to?

I changed my first name slightly by omitting part of it and just leaving “Marie” back in my twenties. I also tried to change my last name to “Strega” but the patent laws in my country wouldn’t allow it so I added it as a second first name instead (and use it in informal situations.)

20. What is something you’re obsessed with?

Nutritional science keeps coming back in my obsessions. As does various languages I want to learn.

21. Describe your best friend.

Lives in India, writes naughty Loki fics, and sent me a box of beautiful things recently 🥰 She’s also adorable.

22. Tag someone you think is hot.

Uhm...@MCU Loki?

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists?

Meatloaf, Buffy Sainte-Marie, FR David, Modern Talking, Belinda Carlisle... though I’m more into individual pieces than artists.

24. What are three places you want to travel?

I’m really not much for traveling but it might be fun to go back to London one day. Also considering visiting Amsterdam at some point. And I’m getting curious about India.

25. Describe your perfect Friday night.

All alone. Snacks at the ready. Favorite music. Indulging shamelessly in one of my favorite games.

26. What’s your favorite season?

Summer.

27. What’s your pet peeve?

People who won’t respect the word “No” (or boundaries in general).

28. Who is the funniest person you know?

I’m originally Swedish so my thoughts revert to Magnus Härenstam and Brasse Brännsström, lol. There might be someone more recent but it’ll pop up after I’ve posted this, most likely.

29. What’s the most overrated movie?

Probably “Thor Ragnacrap”.

30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message.

Can’t. I’d just disappoint them due to not being able to keep up the contact.

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better?

After careful consideration and trying out both, I prefer paper books. E-books are practical though, so I still have some.

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick?

Don’t know... Probably one of my own making.

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like?

Tailored to my taste and body shape. Soft materials. Black pants and short jackets. Colorful tops. A mix of masculine and feminine. Comfortable shoes with heels.

34. What’s your coffee order?

None, I can’t stand coffee.

35. Do you have a crush on anyone?

None beyond Loki. I crush easily but mostly on fictional characters since they are more interesting.

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes?

Nope. They killed those thoroughly.

37. Have any tattoos?

Not yet. Maybe I get around to it someday.

38. Do you drink?

Rarely. I drink wine when invited somewhere and I like sweet dessert wines and creamy liqueurs, but I can’t have more than two glasses or I get sleepy.

39. Are you a virgin?

No, that was a long time ago.

40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals?

Nope, but I feel affectionate towards them.

41. How many followers do you have?

1661 as of this moment.

42. Describe the hottest person you know.

Slender, black hair, male but with a bit of an androgynous vibe. Intense.

43. What’s your guilty pleasure?

Sweet-tasting food.

44. Do you read erotica?

In the form of fanfic smut, yes. I rarely come across anything good among mainstream books.

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?

Never officially dated, so can’t say.

46. How many people do you follow?

213

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?

Uh... I don’t do marriage.

48. Describe your ideal partner.

Respectful, kind, open-minded, and quiet. Dominant and feral in bed.

49. Who do you text the most?

My disability coach, lol.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Sunny without being hot.

This was fun!

[jullieannedanger]

Bouncing Back

Bouncing back is hard.

Whether it's from an injury or illness, a planned surgery, grief, unexpected criticism, or a moment of failure or defeat, bouncing back is hard. And what makes it harder is we're just expected to. We live in an economy that views "self-care" as a waste of time when time is money. We live in a society where if you let yourself stay down for too long something must be wrong with you and you should get that checked. They make pills for that, you know? We live in a world of "Go! Go! Go!" where the need for rest is seen as a weakness.

We've created resources, like therapy and "the pills for that," but then people are looked down on for turning to them during their times of need (kudos to all of the Stigma Stompers out there who are fighting to make mental health and wellness a normal thing!). We're blamed for lacking the resilience to bounce back. No matter where you turn you're in a Catch-22: Put on the mask, be the rock, and suck it up, Buttercup, because no one's coming to save you. While knowing that if you just had the time and an outside party to share your burden with and help make more sense of why you have to carry this burden you could move forward genuinely, without the mask.

Don't let the Catch-22 stop you from seeking the help you need. You and the life you are forging are ALWAYS worth it.

I'm in a bounce-back period and it's honestly been a lot harder to bounce back from than previous hits. I pride myself on being a girl who can "fail forward" but this particular instance of defeat has left me feeling unwanted, unappreciated, and unsure of what my "next five years" actually looks like. I had a vision of what I wanted my future to be and after YEARS of investing myself towards it, I was given a very clear "you're not welcome here".

It's frustrating to get criticisms from someone who doesn't necessarily exhibit the qualities they're criticizing you for not having. It's frustrating to watch someone advance over you because they were given a chance to "get in" with the right people, when you were expected to make that chance for yourself. It's frustrating to be told your skills aren't good enough, and then watch the person who was determined to be better than you flounder in a skillset you excel in. It's frustrating to constantly be told you'll never be better than your imperfections, and then watch people with the same imperfections as you be given opportunities you were denied for exhibiting the exact same set of flaws.

But you can't let your frustrations stop you from fighting.

And trust me, I know that fight is hard. I feel like my whole life has been a giant fight. Fighting to prove to my peers I was worthy of their acceptance growing up. Fighting to prove to employers I work hard enough to deserve to be paid enough to be able to afford to actually live. Fighting to prove to subjective standards that I'm professional enough. Fighting to prove to men that I'm worthy of their love. Fighting to prove to myself that I'm worthy of being successful and deserve to have good things in my life.

I'm so tired of fighting. I'm so tired of fighting that my body got the sickest it's been in two years to force me to rest. And, I'm not going to lie, most of these past few days I've just felt guilty that I'm not doing more in spite of the fact I know I physically am not capable of it. Even though I 100% deserve the time and chance to rest. Not to mention the mountain of correspondence I'll have to fight through when I go back. The fight literally never ends.

I think part of the problem I'm facing is I don't know how to keep fighting when I don't know what I'm fighting for. And whether it takes time in therapy, or more time for introspection and reflection, every moment I spend working for myself and my mental health, helping myself re-find the answer to that question, is worth it.

I encourage you to do the same for yourself: Take time to rest. Reflect and introspect. Meditate. And if you have to ask someone else to help you find your way back, there's no shame in it.

[tysonrunningfox]

Toothless: Return to the Black Pony of Second Chances: Part 4

No one cares if fanfictions have equal length chapters (that’s my mantra) no one cares if fanfictions have equal length chapters (it’s still 3300 words) 

Ao3

The first time I saw Stormfly, she had a blue bow around her neck and was eating my mother’s marigolds.  Half the planter box was mowed flat in the time it took my Uncle Finn to come inside and get me, but I didn’t stay to hear the resulting argument.  I was up in the shiny new saddle and down the driveway before the ‘thank you, Uncle Finn, I love you so much” was done echoing off of the covered porch roof. 

And yes, Stormfly was a little rough around the edges.  She still is, these days, spending so much time checking fences and begging treats off of people, but she’d never…oh, I don’t know, break down a fence at someone’s horse farm and lure their prize herd out the morning the bank was coming to appraise assets. 

“What’s wrong with its leg?”  Hiccup asks, pressing his face to the stall bars, stupid ripped jeans covered in driveway gravel dust. 

“It’s infected,” I answer, taking a step closer to the stall to gesture at the obvious swelling on the horse’s back, left haunch, but pausing when he starts to rear again, staggering sideways against the wall. 

Hiccup glares at me.  Something resembling fierce for a second instead of the petulant expression I hate that I’ve almost gotten used to in the last couple of hours.  I also hate that he thinks he’s some kind of protector to this dangerous horse just because it liked him for a fluke second, and I cross my arms, daring him to keep up the expression, but Mr. Haddock enters the barn and I take a step back. 

“The vet’s almost here,” Mr. Haddock says comfortingly, rolling his eyes when the little black horse tosses his head, red-rimmed eyes wild, spit frothing from his lips. 

“Is the vet going to help it?”  Hiccup asks, a little too eager, boyish under all that sarcasm and I can’t help but wonder how Ruffnut sees him as the same age as we are. 

Then again, Ruffnut seems young too, her farm’s loss rolling off her back instead of sticking like mine has. 

“Hiccup,” Mr. Haddock’s gentle tone is lost on his son, who’s angry again, a flippant, disrespectful kind of angry that I don’t know how to tolerate.  “He didn’t sell at auction, he won’t let anyone near him, he’s a danger to the other horses and now, to people.” 

I know that Snotlout ate shit chasing the horse and scraped up his elbow, and usually I wouldn’t consider that human harm, but anytime that a horse gets out it’s dangerous.  Especially a horse who won’t be caught.  Especially a horse who’s torn down fences in the past. 

“So what?  You’re just going to get rid of it?  Of him?”  Hiccup swallows, gawky Adam’s apple bobbing, and I should go bring the groceries in.  I should let them yell without an audience, no matter how much I want to tell Hiccup how inappropriate it is to yell at his father. 

Of course, he wouldn’t understand.  Maybe he was born here, but he’s obviously a city boy now.  Sometimes, animals die.  It’s hard, it’s always hard.  It’s hard enough at the right season, loading a herd into a trailer and knowing where they’re going, and it’s worse when it’s an injury or an illness. 

But it happens.  And it’s one of a rancher’s most important jobs to face the problem head on, with empathy and dignity in mind. 

“What’s my choice here, son?”  Mr. Haddock’s frustration shows in his posture even as his voice stays even.  “The animal is in pain, he’s not going to get any better without medical care.  It’s been a month now and he’s only getting worse—”

“Because no one’s been taking care of him.”  Hiccup raises his voice but the little black horse doesn’t react with any of its usual anger, instead taking him in with wide eyes, sweaty chest heaving a little more evenly. 

“He won’t let anyone near him,” I try to hold my hand out towards the stall door and the horse tosses his head again, pawing at the ground with a clumsy front hoof. 

“I caught him just fine,” Hiccup snaps at the world at large and a horse down the stall row stomps and stirs at the loud interruption. 

“The way I see it, son, and I’ve been around horses longer than you’ve been alive—”

“You’re old, ok, what does that have to do with this horse right now?”  Hiccup points into the stall, rude and belligerent and stupid, if he doesn’t know the answer to that question. 

I don’t think that’s true, I think he wants his dad to say it out loud so that he has a reason to shame him, and the thought makes me sick.  After everything Mr. Haddock has done for all of us, to make him feel guilty about not being able to save the little reject mustang that no one wants is…I almost turn and leave, but it feels like part of my responsibility to witness. 

“It’s a kindness, Hiccup.”  Mr. Haddock has more patience than I ever will, “to do this quickly, inside where he can be comfortable—”

“Instead of trying to help him?”  Hiccup’s voice cracks. 

“Look at that wound, Hiccup.  He’ll probably be lame—”

“Oh.  So, it’s not worth doing then.  Ok,” he barks back flatly, sarcasm a veil over the words, “I get it.” 

“That’s not—”  Mr. Haddock sighs, and I’ve never heard him think about backtracking before so it takes me a second to recognize the pause for what it is, especially as it’s interrupted by tires on the gravel driveway.  The vet, surely, we aren’t expecting anyone else.  “Your mother and I thought coming here would help you learn some responsibility—”

“By watching horses die because a leg injury means there’s something irreparably wrong with them,” Hiccup rolls his eyes, flippant anger simmering under the words, “are you getting parenting advice from Old Yeller again?” 

“If the horse means so much to you,” Mr. Haddock’s vast store of patience runs out and his booming voice quiets all of the stalls but one, where the little black horse stomps and snorts, “then you take care of it.  Talk to the vet, find the money for what he needs, and nurse him back to health.” 

“I don’t know anything about horses—”

“You should have considered that before you started this argument, young man.” 

I wish I’d left.  Really, I do.  I wish I were cleaning the chicken coop or checking the cows or hell, watching Snotlout talk ad nauseum about proper bull riding technique, because any of those things would be better than standing here watching this. 

“I don’t have any money,” Hiccup continues in a small voice, hands in his hoodie pockets, “can I get a loan.” 

“Loans get paid back, son.  With interest.” 

“I’ll do that,” he insists, “and if it doesn’t work—just let me try, Dad.”  The title comes out in a different tone, an earnest one, and I take the chance to leave, striding out of the barn and greeting Dr. Goethi on the way back to the house. 

Snotlout is sitting on the patio railing, nursing his scraped-up elbow, “has anyone dealt with that thing yet?” 

“Your lack of balance and inability to chase something without tripping over your own feet?”  I quip back without thinking, trying to think about dinner as I open the screen door and slip inside.

“Lack of balance?”  Snotlout follows, “come on, Astrid, usually when you’re mean you don’t stoop to being stupid—”

“What’s going on?”  Ruffnut looks up from the potatoes she’s been lackadaisically peeling, “how’d it go?” 

“The vet’s with them now,” I let myself sit, probably for the first time since the sun came up, unless I was driving, and it makes me even more tired.  “I should go get the groceries out of the truck.” 

“I’ll help,” Ruffnut offers, selfless like she only is when she needs something, and as soon as we’re back outside, she’s peppering me with questions, “what did you guys talk about?  Did he remember you pulling his hair?” 

“What are you talking about?”  I’d hand the box to her but I’m half-sure she’d drop it, so I prop it on my hip to shut the back door of the truck.  Someone parked it properly during the commotion of getting the runaway horse into the barn, and I double check for the keys before locking it and starting back towards the house. 

“You and Hiccup having a long car ride together—”

“Hiccup?”  I stop short, irritation and curiosity and irritation at that curiosity all prickle the back of my neck as I try not to glance towards the barn.  The horse isn’t shrieking.  That probably means it’s almost over.  He said it himself, he doesn’t know how to take care of a horse, much less a sick, violent one who doesn’t want to be here.  “You’re asking about Hiccup right now?” 

“No, I care about the stupid horse that got out and chores or whatever,” Ruffnut rolls her eyes, “of course I’m asking about Hiccup.  He’s new and he’s going to be here all summer and you were alone with him for the first time since the fated second grade hair-pulling incident—”

“He says he’s going to take care of the mustang,” I cut her off, stomping back up towards the house.  “We’ll see if he survives the summer.” 

“It did seem to like him,” Ruffnut misses my tone entirely, craning her neck to see through the open barn door instead of getting the door into the house for me.

00000

By the time the Haddocks are done with the vet, Gobber has arrived to save us all from whatever Ruffnut was going to call dinner, and everyone has returned from their last afternoon chores to help set the table.  Ruffnut won’t stop looking at me like she thinks I’m keeping a secret and I do my best to ignore her, quizzing Fishlegs about the back pasture and looking anywhere but at the door. 

When it opens, Mr. Haddock walks in first, followed by Hiccup, who’s dragging muddy feet and clutching a bottle of some kind of medicine in his hand.  He tucks it into his pocket before anyone can comment and I look away, back at the table, waiting to see if he’s going to take my usual seat on Mr. Haddock’s right. 

Gobber surprises me by sitting there before Hiccup can, and Hiccup stares at the table for a second before sitting next to Gobber, apparently choosing somewhere neutral.  I take Mr. Haddock’s left, daring anyone to mention it and hating that I’m a bit relieved when Snotlout and Tuffnut start up an under their breath conversation about the best way to get the money to enter some rodeo next month. 

“How’s your first day back in town, lad?”  Gobber starts the dinner conversation as food is handed around and Hiccup shrugs.  Rude. Again.  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Anything interesting so far?” 

“Interesting,” Hiccup chuckles under his breath at an inside joke he’s decided not to share.  Probably for the best, I haven’t liked any of his other ones.  “I don’t know if that’s the word for anything.” 

“Hiccup has decided to take care of that horse,” Mr. Haddock nudges Gobber’s knee under the table, “the little black stowaway from the Hofferson herd.” 

“Not part of the herd,” I interject and Hiccup’s gaze flicks at me out of the corner of his eyes.  It makes him look even younger than he was acting earlier when he tries to be sneaky, like a kid hiding behind the curtain with feet fully exposed, and I look back at my plate. 

“A horse, huh?  That’s a pretty big commitment for day one.” 

“First of many,” Mr. Haddock encourages, and I can’t help but wonder how Hiccup would be acting if his dad weren’t being so gentle with him.  If I talked to anyone the way Hiccup has talked to his father today, I wouldn’t be seeing Stormfly for a week, let alone getting a new horse to take care of. 

Not that I’d want the black mustang anyway. 

I look at Hiccup again, the growing nagging question in the back of my mind searching for some clue as to what made that horse stop instead of plowing him down like a crooked fencepost.  His sweatshirt sleeve falls down over his skinny wrist as he limply pushes a pile of green beans around his plate, not hungry enough to ignore the taste and eat what he can get. 

“Well, I had an exciting day,” Gobber forces the table-wide conversation along even as Fishlegs and the twins try to start a separate whispered argument, “first theft at the general store in a decade.” 

“Oh?”  Hiccup shoves a forkful of green beans in his mouth and proceeds to talk with his mouth open, big city manners on full display, “guess we should call the governor and rewrite the century’s crime statistics.” 

“What happened?”  Mr. Haddock asks seriously, hand on Gobber’s knee under the table, “is everyone ok?” 

“Everyone’s fine,” Gobber shrugs and looks directly at Hiccup, “Mr. Wrigley’s still unaccounted for, but I’m working on it.” 

“Mr. Wrigley?”  Mr. Haddock looks at me like I might know who Gobber is talking about and I shrug. 

“Hiccup,” Gobber raises an eyebrow, “do you know anything about the pack of gum you stole from my store earlier?  I thought I’d start my sleuthing at the source.” 

“What?”  Hiccup chokes on a green bean and Snotlout makes no move to thump him on the back, instead cradling his elbow and shaking his head. 

“The pack of gum you took from my store when you didn’t think I was watching,” Gobber strokes his moustache. “Any news on its whereabouts?” 

“I don’t—”  He clears his throat, green eyes looking wild around the room, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Gum?  What gum?”

“Empty your pockets.”  Mr. Haddock leaves no room for argument, but Hiccup tries anyway. 

“The warden searched me at the gate, I swear, you can ask her.”  He looks at me like I have something to do with this and I try to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach when I realize that he used me as a ride to steal.  From Gobber. 

“Empty your pockets.  Now.”  Mr. Haddock stands up and the room is silent except for Gobber happily snacking on a dinner roll and waiting for the drama to play out. 

The horse meds come out first, a brand-new orange bottle.  Then a thin wallet patched with duct tape. 

Then a nearly new pack of gum that Hiccup opens to demonstrate the one missing piece. 

“You see, I actually got this at the airport.  In New York, actually, because my ears always struggle to pop on the plane and don’t you just hate that—”

Mr. Haddock flips the pack of gum over to reveal the “General Store 0.99” orange sticker on the back and Hiccup’s mouth flaps a few useless times. 

“Not even a day and you’re stealing?”  The whole room flinches at Mr. Haddock’s yelling this time, except Hiccup, who just sinks down further in his chair, arms crossed, expression petulant. 

I wish that stupid horse would let me near it, just for an excuse to grab those pills and leave, to not have to see another Haddock family tussle today. 

“I didn’t think anyone was watching,” Hiccup mumbles, “I’ll pay for the gum—”

“How am I supposed to trust you?  I just loaned you money for antibiotics for that damn animal—”

“Oh, so since I stole a pack of gum you’re just going to go shoot the horse out back?  Great, that’ll teach me, really proportionate response,” Hiccup gripes as his dad takes the bottle of pills, sarcasm flat and eyes trained on the table. 

That is until his dad plops the bottle down next to my unused spoon. 

Then Hiccup’s eyes go wide.  Probably about as wide as mine. 

“I was going to try and trust you with that beast, but obviously, you aren’t responsible enough.”  Mr. Haddock stands up, plate in hand, face as red as the shag carpet downstairs, “and I’m too furious to deal with you myself, so I’m giving these to my foreman—”

“Foreman?”  The word sounds foreign in my mouth, the promotion that could convince my parents to let me stay through the year suddenly thrown into the rest of this gigantic mess. 

“My Foreman Astrid,” Mr. Haddock continues, “you do what she asks of you and when she thinks you’ve earned it, she’ll give you what the horse needs.” 

“Dad!”  Hiccup acts like he still has room to argue, even with the evidence of his illegal activity staring up at him from the center of the table. 

“It’s about time that you learn some things need to be earned.  And if you can’t earn Astrid’s trust, how are you going to re-earn mine?  Or Gobber’s?”  He exits with that, stomping into his bedroom to eat and slamming the door behind him. 

Everyone stares. 

Gobber claims the pack of gum from the center of the table and tucks it into the breast pocket of his shirt before resuming his dinner. 

“If it makes it any better, laddie, I didn’t trust you to begin with, that’s why I was watching.”  He waves his hook around by his temple, “living with all those lights on all the time does things to a person.” 

“So, it’s the lights fault?”  Hiccup asks flatly, avoiding my eyes like he apparently avoids all concept of responsibility, “can I use that?” 

“No, you can’t,” Gobber coughs, “in this case, this is entirely your fault, and if you want to help that horse, you best start asking Astrid what you can help her with.” 

I’m used to being the bad guy.  Really.  I’m the bad guy when Stormfly wants treats or when Ruffnut wants to sleep in or when Snotlout is trying to sneak out the night before we need him.  I’m the bad guy when I remind my parents that their ranch used to mean something, that Hofferson used to mean something. 

It’s second nature to stand up and pocket the pills, glancing at Hiccup’s untouched green beans before speaking. 

“After you’ve cleaned your plate, follow me out to the barn, you can help me feed.” 

“Not hungry,” he gripes, pushing the food away from him, oblivious to the way Snotlout eyes it like he’s weighing how gross it is to eat Hiccup’s food. 

“I meant at the sink.”  I look towards the kitchen then back at him. 

“Dishes?”  He raises a challenging eyebrow, “you’re not going to give me my horse’s medicine if I don’t do dishes?” 

“Among other things, I’m sure,” Gobber chirps, grinning at me even as the pill bottle feels like an anvil in my pocket. 

“I’m going to ask you to pull your own weight around here.”  I put on my best bad guy voice and Snotlout sighs, whispering behind his hand to Tuffnut. 

“Finally, she has someone else to bitch at.” 

I hate that I recognize the flash of realization across Hiccup’s face as he encounters everyone’s favorite corner.  When there are two options and one of them involves agreeing with Snotlout, there’s really only one option. 

“Fine,” he stands up, slouching to the kitchen and scraping his food into the trash before making a production over double scrubbing his plate before dropping it loudly into the drying rack. 

“You’ve got this, lassie,” Gobber tells me, unnecessarily, “a few days under your thumb will whip him right into shape.” 

“What shape?”  Snotlout snorts, flexing his bicep at Hiccup as he stalks back outside, and if weren’t directed at Snotlout, I’d call him out on the middle finger he doesn’t quite hide against his leg. 

[honeybammie]

momma › jackson wang

↳ babysitting jackson wang’s daughter was not the first option on your list of summer jobs, but it pays well, and how can you complain when you get to see his face every day?  ↳ singledad!jackson, fluff  ↳ wc: 3,733  

Babysitting was not first on my list of potential summer jobs, but “struggling artist” wasn’t paying rent, and my parents were growing tired of my increasing demands, so I had to look elsewhere. Between my list of potential options, including part-time waitress or grocer, Jackson Wang paid the most. I could take care of his two year old throughout the week, he could go to work with peace of mind, and in the evenings I could continue commissioning off my paintings for less than they were worth. Everybody won. 

My first obstacle was the tedious interview process. At first, he called over phone to ask the more basic information of his potential applicants. Name, age, previous experience. I would’ve bet I was the oldest of everyone, and with three younger siblings, I hoped for a slight advantage, but I knew nothing of anyone else vying for the job, so I relied on my crossed fingers for luck. 

The second step of the process included meeting Jackson in person. A renewed sense of hope flooded my veins when he gave me the follow-up call and explained that he’d like to meet me, but the pressure of knowing he was to meet with four other girls did nothing to salve my nerves. Neither did the caffeine in the coffee I ordered when we met. For many of his questions, I had to gather myself. Why did I want the position? What was I studying in school? I blushed peach when I had to answer that I was an art major. No one ever took that one seriously, but Jackson nodded anyway, and after forty-five minutes—had it really been that long?—he thanked me for my time with a smile. 

The third and final step, which came down to me and an eighteen-year-old high school senior, was meeting his daughter, Meilin, the true judge. I met the two of them in a park near his home, Jackson still in his work clothes and Meilin dressed head-to-toe in pink floral. Apparently she picked the outfit herself. The shoes I wore had a flower print, too, one I designed, and this fact pleased her so much I got the job without saying much else. I felt almost guilty. The other candidate may have had every qualification for taking care of a toddler, but two-year-olds cared not for credentials. Evidently, they cared very much for cool shoes. Some things are learned young. 

My second obstacle was trying not to fall in love with Jackson. 

An obstacle much more difficult than my first, despite how little I saw him after the interview process. Every morning I showed up at 7:30, and upon my arrival he handed me a twenty dollar bill for lunch (which I never spent in its entirety and tried to return at the end of the day, but he always declined), told me any play dates or birthday parties I had to attend, and grabbed his briefcase before heading out the door. When he returned at 4:30, he handed me my daily pay, thanked me, and I returned to my apartment. Our paths barely overlapped. 

Still, I dwelled on our meet-up for coffee a number of times. Had he spent so long with the other girls? Maybe he related more to me since I was the oldest, but surely we had little in common other than both being in our twenties. He was a successful single dad, and I had neither success nor children, just an in-progress art degree and an atelier that was just a closet I cleared out for my paintings. Stains covered my carpet even after the immense effort of cleaning, whereas every surface of Jackson’s house was glossy and unmarred. Even if I wanted to have a conversation with him again, I had no idea where to begin. 

Until a month into the job, when upon Meilin was playing dress up for the umpteenth time and Jackson called. 

“Hello?” I answered, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder so that I could continue to applaud Meilin as she twirled in circles and fell back into her chair. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” he sighed, breath heavy like he was in pursuit of something. “Can I ask you a favor? I’m caught up at work and need you to watch Meilin for a few more hours. I’ll give you some extra money for dinner and pay you overtime hours.”

“Daddy!” Meilin exclaimed upon hearing his voice, climbing up onto my lap and making grabby hands at my phone

“Hello, honey,” he hummed, like the sound of her voice renewed him after hours of office work. 

“Don’t worry about the dinner money. I didn’t spend any for lunch earlier. What time do you think you’ll be back?”

“I’ll try to be back by 7:30. Thank you for this. How’s Meilin?” 

“Daddy!” she repeated in a similar squeal as earlier, hardly fazed by her father’s news. 

“I think she’s holding up. She was in the middle of her debut fashion show, so you ought to be glad she’s not a diva and made time between changes to talk to you,” I tsked, earning a laugh from him, the sound curling around my heart and constricting. 

“Tell her I appreciate it very much,” he said, “and thank you. Again. Seriously.”

“It’s no problem. Seriously,” I mocked him, and he hung up in haste. At the loss of her father’s voice, Meilin grabbed the phone out of my hand, looking between me and the device, perplexed.

“Where daddy?” she wondered, turning the phone upside down and flipping it over and over. “Daddy home?”

“Not yet. Daddy’s working late, so you get to spend more time with me!” I threw my hands in the air, and she copied the action with a grin on her face, arms high above her head in the most excited display the world had ever seen. 

“Momma!” she giggled. 

I lowered my arms with the sudden shock of my title. Usually she called me my name, or various incoherent versions of it, but “momma” was new, and definitely not close to my real name. “Oh, goodness. Uh...no, not momma,” I stuttered.

“Momma! Dress up!” she pulled her princess dress over her head, throwing it down and running into her closet for what I could only imagine would be another dress. 

Her newfound favorite manner of addressing me continued through the rest of the evening. Even when I took her to a nearby restaurant and cut up her chicken nuggets with a fork, feeding her one tiny piece at a time, she persisted.

“Yum Yum. Here, momma,” she’d say, picking up a piece and shoving it towards my face. A couple passersby even complimented me on how cute my daughter was, only setting her off more. 

I realized I had no idea what happened to Meilin’s mother. Had Jackson been married, or was Meilin perhaps the result of a brief fling? Had her mother died? Abandoned them? I hadn’t considered the possibilities before, but they weighed on my anxious mind as the next few hours passed. 

She ran into Jackson’s arms when he returned, oblivious to how late he had gotten off work. “Good evening, hon. What’d you guys do today?”

“Play dress up! With momma!” She clapped her hands, at which Jackson’s eyes widened and landed on me. 

“I tried to tell her I’m not momma, but she kept calling me momma and I didn’t know what to do, and then people at the restaurant kept saying I had a cute daughter, and...I’m sorry,” I blurted out all in one breath, afraid the subject might strike a chord. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. No harm done,” he chuckled, setting his daughter down. She scuttled along into the living room to play with some toys while he pulled out a wad of money, counting out double what he usually paid me in a day even though I had only done three hours overtime. “I really appreciate you taking care of her, you know? She goes on about you all the time, most of which I can’t understand, but what I do understand is good. She still loves your shoes.”

I wore the same pair every day, and now I looked down at them with redness flooding my face. “It’s nothing, really. She’s great. She makes me laugh more than most people my age.”

Jackson slipped the cash into my hand, smiling gently at me. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Do you mind me asking something else?” I added, almost against my own will, but the question had been beating me down all day, and I had to know. 

“Go ahead,” he prompted, sliding the jacket of his three-piece suit over his broad shoulders and folding it over one arm. 

“Where is her mother?” 

“Oh. She doesn’t have one,” he said with a little shrug. Just like that. So nonchalant. I glanced around me for the presence of, perhaps, hidden cameras. Was he messing with me?

“She...left?” I asked in a low whisper, desperately trying not to offend him. 

He shook his head at me in amusement, pulling out a stool from the kitchen island and taking a seat. “Meilin has a mother, biologically, but she was a surrogate. I...really wanted to have a baby, so I found someone and after some legal work and nine months of waiting, Meilin was born. I guess a lot of the children’s books we read mention mommies and daddies, and she knew who daddy was, so you must’ve been the closest resemblance to mommy to her.”

“Huh,” I said. Of all answers, I didn’t expect that one, but it was one of the better ones. “I’m glad, then. I was worried her mom passed away or that there was a divorce.”

“No, nothing like that,” he said, “but you’re sweet for being worried.”

I was blushing scarlet now, no longer able to hide it. He was only a few years older than me, but him having his life so put together made me feel like putty in front of him, and the “sweet” rolling off his tongue made me feel like I was stuck in sugary goo. 

“I guess I should get going, then,” I said. “See you on Monday, Mr. Wang.”

“Jackson,” he corrected me. “I’m not that much older than you.”

“Most people don’t call their employer by their first name,” I pointed out. Being on a first-name basis with him was too informal, too intimate. “And we’re not friends or anything. Not to be rude, but—”

“No, I understand,” he nodded, eyes travelling to his daughter. This was usually her bedtime, and she wasn’t playing with her toys with the same energy as earlier. “Give me a moment to put her in bed, would you? I’d like to talk for a few more minutes.”

“Uh, sure.” I wasn’t sure if he was going to fire me or somehow promote me or what, but I sat at the kitchen island as he carried Meilin to her room, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Night, momma.” She waved, and after spending the day denying it, I conceded and waved back, blush still covering my cheeks. I hoped it didn’t secretly bother Jackson. 

He was gone maybe five minutes, and the house doesn’t make a sound. I was used to the constant thudding of feet, of pint-sized chaos roaming the halls, but the space was at a standstill and I had to busy myself by picking up the stray toys left on the living room floor. 

“Oh, please—no, no, don’t worry,” Jackson said when he found me cleaning up, touching a hand to my elbow so that I stood. There was a doll in my hands but he took it and tossed it into the nearby basket of toys he kept in the living room. “You’ve done enough today.”  

“Sorry. Force of habit, I guess.” I folded my hands together to steady myself. Being alone with him was as nerve-wracking now as it was during the interview process. “What did you want to talk about?”

He nodded towards the kitchen, where I returned to my previous seat. I shook my head no when he offered a glass of wine. I’d have to drive home soon, but he proceeded to pour himself a glass and sat down. He always struck me as more of a rum guy—not that I had spent my time thinking about what he liked to drink. Well, not too much time. 

“I don’t know that this arrangement is going to work much longer,” Jackson said, reaching across the table to cover one of my hands with his. My skin froze at the proposition. 

“Mr. Wang—Jackson, please,” I sputtered in a half-thought out attempt to save my job. Not seeing Meilin or him again? Asking my parents for more money? The thought made my heart lurch. “I adore your daughter, and I need this job because I don’t make near enough from painting to sustain myself. If you’re mad that she’s calling me her mother, I’m sorry, and I’ll try to take care of it, but I can’t lose this position.”

He took a sip from his glass, swirling a finger around the rim. “Earlier, you said we weren’t friends, and it made me think of how I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Ouch.”

He smirked a little, tired from a long day of work but still thinking me amusing nonetheless. “Let me finish. I don’t want to be friends with you, but that’s not because I’m your boss. Hell, I don’t want to be your boss, either. I want to take you out sometime—to an art museum or a play downtown or for another cup of coffee with a different context. Even with what little I see of you, I think about you all the time, and I just…”

Jackson’s voice faded out, words lost to him. I’d never been very good at words, either, hence why I pursued artistry instead of English, but I turned my hand over and slipped his fingers through mine. It felt like a good place to start, despite how much my hands were shaking. “I don’t...really want to be your friend either. Or your employee. Ever since we first met for coffee, I’ve had the stupidest middle school crush.”

“As long as we’re coming clean, I knew after our first meeting that I wanted you to be the one to watch Meilin. I had only met with the other girls for fifteen minutes, maybe, but we talked for how long? An hour? When she ended up choosing you, I was happier than it made sense to be.”

“What if she hadn’t?” I implored, hoping he would indulge me.

He rubbed the back of his neck, contemplative and maybe a little nervous, too, a side of him I decided that I liked. “I...might’ve asked you out sooner, actually, or I might’ve talked myself out of the idea, thinking you’d say no. I guess we don’t have to find out.”

“And I’m glad it was me. Meilin is the highlight of my summer.” I smiled at the thought of her round cheeks and moony eyes staring up at me but remembered a moment later that I do need the job. “Listen Mr. — Jackson.” 

“Mr. Jackson,” he interrupted, chuckling.

“Shut up,” I scoffed. “This is serious. I need money somehow, and if I’m not watching Meilin, I’m out of luck.”

“Then let me help you with some of your art. I’ll buy a few pieces off of you for however much you need or want for them—just enough to give you a jumpstart and afford rent while you look for another job,” he suggested.

“I want to date you, not for you to be my sugar daddy.” 

“I’m not—” he started, but he must’ve seen where I was coming from because he stops short. A pinkish blush started to show on his cheeks. Finally, I wasn’t the only one. 

I didn’t want to date him as long as I was making money from him. My parents taught me not to mix work and personal life, and hooking up with my boss sounded too scandalous for my taste. 

“Give me time to find another job. It’ll take a few weeks, maybe, but then I’ll quit and we can go on a date. Until then, we should keep things professional.” I realized my hand was still in his, and I slipped my fingers away and held them in my lap.

He was silent for a while, and from the way his eyes flitted all over me, he didn’t seem to want to wait. He’d probably take me out right then if he could, and if he asked, I wasn’t sure I had the willpower to tell him no, despite the front I tried to keep from crumbling. “Can I give a suggestion, then?”

“What is it?”

“Wait here,” he said, running upstairs where I knew he had another bedroom and an office, along with other rooms I had yet to step foot in. 

He returned soon after, pressing three business cards into my palm. I filed through, brows furrowed, to see that they were art exhibit coordinators, critics, buyers. Alternatively, all the people I needed to impress. 

“Where did you get these?” 

“I’ve been to a few showcases in my day. I’m not entirely ignorant to the world of art, and I never turn down a business card. You never know when you might need someone you thought you wouldn’t.”

My mouth hung open, entirely ungraceful and no doubt making me look like a fool in front of him. Then, I shook my head. “It still seems like too much of you to—”

“I’m only giving you their cards. You don’t even have to tell them you know me, just that you’re looking for work. If they hate your paintings, they won’t hire you, and if they love them, that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with your talent.”

I tried to refute him. It still didn’t seem fair, but he had a point, and maybe it was selfish of me but I wanted a date with him soon, and I wanted the validation of someone in the community telling me that I had what it took to make a living from my art. Was that too much to ask? 

“Im Jaebum selects artists to showcase at the art gallery each month. He has a soft spot for young artists just trying to find a way in, and if he really likes you, he’ll showcase you more than once. BamBam runs a section of a popular magazine— focused on art, obviously, and he kind of does what Jaebum does: spotlights an artist or two each edition, gets their name published. You never know who might see your name and reach out. Park Jinyoung is the hardest of them to please, but he’s more constructive than harsh, and you’re in great shape if he likes you. He’s a buyer, too, and pays more than I ever could. He’ll tell his friends about you, too, if you want to commission work.” 

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say,” I stuttered, the cards heavy in my hands with the prospect of chances they might hold, doors they might open. “Thank you, Jackson. Really, I—” 

“You can thank me once you book your first showcase. I’d love to be your plus one.”

“Oh? And who said you would be my plus one?” I teased, but it was taking every ounce of my composure not to throw my arms around him and kiss him silly. 

“Call it my wishful thinking,” he said. “And until then, you can keep taking care of Meilin, and our relationship can remain strictly professional.” 

Right. I had suggested that. So much for kissing him silly. “Yeah. Yes, of course.” I nodded. I’d be sad not to see Meilin every day, but if all went well, I’d continue to see her often.

Jackson looked into the bottom of his wine glass, almost empty, and after a couple beats of silence said, “I’ve probably kept you long enough tonight. I’m sure you’d like to get home.”

You can keep me as long as you want, I thought, snapping back when I caught his eyes on mine. “I’m...yeah. I should be on my way.” We both stood, his movements a mirror of mine. He walked me to the door a few times before, usually while counting my payment, but he had already given me my cash.

“Thank you again for staying late to watch her,” he said while I slipped my shoes on, grabbing my belongings.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, I’d do it any day.” I waved a dismissive hand at him.

He opened the door. I grabbed my keys. Both of us lingered in the threshold, like he was waiting for me to say something, or like I was waiting for him to. The porch lights set his face aglow, warm evening honey.

“Goodnight, then,” he said slowly, like such basic words were a struggle for him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” I took one step, reconsidered, and looked back at him. “Jackson?”

“Yes?” He hadn’t moved, but his eyes widened with some combination of hope and curiosity.

“I’m having this problem where I really want to kiss my boss, but we agreed to keep things strictly professional for the time being, and I was wondering what you think I should do.”

“Hm,” he considered, and I prayed he wouldn’t tell me just to go home. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye again. “Do you think he wants to kiss you too?”

My breath hitched. “I hope so.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest ripple I barely noticed. He was enjoying himself so, so much. “Only one way to find out.”

I hesitated, momentarily afraid of stepping into a trap, but without any semblance of patience, he was reaching for my waist. My fingers found the pulse of his neck and his lips found mine in the lamplit dark. My second obstacle had been trying not to fall in love with Jackson, and I was failing miserably.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Little Estoma idea

Some angst, some fluff, lots of gifs!  This is where I imagine for when they were dating during Shuriki era and Esteban has his betrayal a secret and Doña has a secret of her past. So Esteban is attempting to explain his scar and how Shuriki did it because she thought he was capable of overthrowing the ruler.

But he’s struggling to speak especially as he internally pictures the death of his aunt and uncle Doña: “Hey, hey it’s okay. You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready, I will be here for you and I will hold you and I will listen and love you all the same.

Esteban: “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve..” 

Doña: “Don’t say that. I mean.. let me put it this way. I, the greedy, selfish, vain, stupid, judgmental, shallow, prideful, stubborn bitch deserve someone better than you? Esteban, remember when you admitted that you used to be jealous of King Juan because he was like the perfect Prince Charming.” 

Esteban: “It’s unbelievable! He’s so perfect and good and happy and doesn’t make mistakes... he never. he never hurts the people he loves. He’s a true fairy tail prince.”  Doña: “I don’t care much for fairytales much less Prince Charming.” 

E: Really? D: Yes! Even when I was younger I preferred the sulky beast who only wanted to be loved but was cursed. He was real, he knows about suffering and he had able to grow and learn lessons and mature. Fairytale princes don’t do that. They’re too perfect. They don’t know about hard work or the weight of responsibility or the consequences of making mistakes. Like you. You work harder now, you try to be a better, more reliable, honorable person because you know your mistakes from when you weren’t.” 

“You’re not a prince but I am so so happy that you love me, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt you and if I do something I want that.... I mean I hope at least you will do the same. You would love me the same maybe...”

Esteban: “Of course I will.” 

Angst under the cut 

Esteban: I will love no matter where or how. Doña: Ha, so even if you were hypothetical a chancellor still and I’m just some poor village girl Esteban: I would still find you..... Ha! I wouldn’t.

Esteban (still talking) I mean why would ever be in a village, unless it’s for important diplomatic reasons if course. But I highly doubt I would have anything in common with you if you were from some village. Don’t those girls drop out of school? I would have nothing to talk about with them. Hehee imagine the struggle it would be to talk to them. I would have to dumb down the words.. Doña: 

Doña: Yeah heh, of course. Village girls are such idiots. We’ll be rich together. 😕

And so they continue their secrets. Eventually breaking up because secret relationships are hard and they both secretly think they’re not enough for the other. But also because 

Esteban: Tensia, can we talk about yesterday? When we were joking about staying here in Cordóba with new names.  Doña: Heh yes, we run away and live happily ever after. It could work. I mean we open a shop to sell your moisturizer. Only 4 days a week during the morning so people will know it’s very exclusive. Then we can charge nobles exorbitant prices, and the rest of time we just enjoy ourselves. You can do guitar playing and tally olaball games, and I can shop. It’d be a nice life.  Esteban: Yes, it would. I want it. (sighs) I really want to. It would be so easy to do, and that’s why we have to break up.  Doña: What?  Esteban: (choking up) We said we wouldn’t let our love interfere but I’m beginning to.. I fear that.. I no longer want to continue my burden. I want to stay in Cordóba and sell moisturizers. Hortensia, I want to marry you.  Doña: Oh Esteban. I would say yes. I’d be willing Esteban: (crying) I’m glad, but it...  I can’t do that to Avalor. I owe it to my family to stay. Kingdom before thy self. 

Doña: (tearing up too) I know. I understand. We’ll discuss (gulps) that tomorrow. For now, let’s just... 

(They cuddle up close together and share a kiss) 

They manage a civil break up. Albeit with lots of bittersweet looks so Esteban goes to Satu to help with the distance. As years go their rivalry becomes more tense as they change. Both have pretty much given up on making new laws, seeing as they’ve done everything legally possible. Esteban still cares but that caring just makes him feel more guilty and hopeless and depressed; all he can do is keep Shuriki from enacting harsher laws and maintains peaceful ties with his allies. Doña, on the other hand, chose to stop caring and focus on herself and her money. Sort of like this, 

Esteban: Okay, what the hell is going on? Is this some sort midlife crisis? Are you mourning someone? Extravagant spending, galas with nobles that you said were “shallow and never worked a day in their lives.” 

Doña: Nothing is happening. I just came to the conclusion that I should enjoy myself. Oh, Esteban, I’ve realized I’ve been stuck in the past, chasing stupid childhood dreams like having a family. That hasn’t worked at so well. But know what has? This store. This emporium has been the only thing succeeding and I decided that I’m going to put my energy and focus into it and make it even better! Esteban: You call spending money on yourself true happiness? Doña:  Yes, I can’t get happiness the other way so might as well embrace what I have. And I have a lot of money.  Esteban: No it’s- What about caring for oth-” 

Doña: I did care, and I’m done. I’m tired of caring for all these people that don’t even know how hard I work. There’s always something else, making sure they’re happy, making sure the economy’s stable, and I don’t get anything from it but stress and no time. I’m done being a failure as a provider. I’m done with “Kingdom before thy self.” If I don’t care, I don’t have to make everything absolutely perfect and now I have time to enjoy myself and my new friends. I mean we’ve done everything we legally can without Shuriki’s notice. So I’m going to relax. No more pressure. Don’t I deserve that after all I’ve done for them for the last 7 years? With money at least I can buy things. Money’s great, money keeps growing in the bank, it can’t leave you the way people do.  Esteban: No! I mean- eh it’s not right. You’re forgetting who you are. Denying that you feel guilty or sad doesn’t mean it disappears. 

Doña: Oh, I’ve had lots of practice with denial, it works. Besides this is who I am, I love money and jewels and new clothes and gossiping about other people and petty society intrigues. It’s kind of fun to manipulate the fighting. I was just too busy before to indulge in them. I didn’t get what Lady Yolanda meant that buying a new dress can cure depression? But now I stopped caring about the past and what my family would be disappointed. It actually works. 

Esteban: It’s wrong! You shouldn’t just forget about your failures or the people you loved. 

Doña: Why are you pushing this? I’m moving on with my life. What do you want me to do? Be like you? Moping around, depressed and miserable all the time. I wouldn’t stop you if you tried to push past your sadness to be happy for once.  Esteban: I’d rather do that than dishonor my family by acting so self absorbed and selfish. You’ve changed so much and- 

Doña: That’s your problem! I’ve changed too much, you’re stuck in the past! I know you’re life is hard, and there’s very little joy but but... Sometimes I want you  to have a happy life not just because you deserve it, but because I don’t want to hear more complaining. You can fix things, you know that right? 

But you don’t. You keep holding yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You push yourself and never try to move on. I mean, you never attend functions unless it’s a royal obligation, you have never gone to the opera just for fun or do anything in your free time that might guarantee a little respite from work. You prefer to be miserable and stew in your guilt. You hold yourself back when you to start enjoying yourself. You won’t allow yourself to find happiness with yourself. Or with someone else or anything! Be miserable fine, but I can’t act like that. My guilt is over with. (a little more gently) It’s been 37 years. You’ve been guilty enough. Try pretending it doesn’t exist, it really helps.  

Esteban: I can’t..

Doña: Of course you can. Esteban: You don’t understand. It’s none of your...it’s a royal matter. Doña: Here we go again! It’s a royal matter. I’m too low and stupid too understand your struggles with doing whatever you want and your royal burden. Give up that argument, Esteban. It means nothing. Besides I’m not acting selfish! I’m basically doing the same things you royals do. Going shopping, siestas. 

Esteban: That’s part of my reputation. I have to look my best. I thought you were more noble than the rest of the nobility that you rose from. I may have privileges, but I still better the peoples’ lives. You’re just acting self righteous.  Doña: You can force yourself not to enjoy these things, but you still have them. You’re pretty well off as Shuriki’s lapdog compared to the commoners. Face it, you have the power like her, you have the titles like her, you’re ambitious like her, you’re- 

Esteban: I am nothing like Shuriki!  Doña: You’re close enough. You’re almost ruthless by association.  Esteban: If you’d like to talk about titles, doña, may I remind you that you’re only so special because you’re magister. Without it, you may be intelligent and pretty, but just as common and worthless as the rest of the masses.  As for your formal request to aid the upcoming trade deals with the northern part of the Everrealm, I’ll have to decline.  Doña: Why? You said- we always do these things together.  Esteban: Yes, but that was before. I didn’t really need you since you don’t have the proper expertise to handle diplomatic matters.  Doña: What? No expertise?! Af-after 7 years. You-I.. 

Esteban: I didn’t need you. I never needed you. I only allowed you to come because I wanted a friend by my side. But now.... 

Doña: But I’m still on.you..

Esteban: No. no. You mean nothing to me. 

Doña: Hmmph. You think your friendship is some big loss for me? Get over yourself chancellor I-I hope you drown in your guilt. 

Esteban: “I hope you drown in your selfishness.” (Slams door) 

So done. Friendship over. Rivalry begins! And also though it wasn’t the major source of their friction, Esteban’s disgust for her avarice and Doña thinking it was hypocritical for him to criticize her clothes shopping and gossip when it was what he usually did. He said it was a matter of being royal and that he had an image to maintain jumps off their royal vs working class rivalry which was easier to argue you about than all the personal subtext underneath. They’re just very passive aggressive with each other now. 

Until after Masks of Magic when Elena tells pretty much her whole family all about what went down at the Feast of Friendship. So a few days later, Esteban stops by Doña’s apartment. Esteban: I want to talk about what happened at the Feast of Friendship. Doña: Yes, yes, things were a little wild and your cousin did her own thing as you said she is wont to do but everything worked out. I can’t wait to do it again next next year. Ugh too bad Paraíso is hosting next year’s. 🙄 Can we discuss the particulars tomorrow before our meeting, I have a date tonight and I need at least two hours to do my hair, and then there’s my makeu- Esteban: She told me that you grew up in a small ranch. Doña: 🤭 Um heh Elena said you were sick, I think you need to rest some more. We’ll talk when you feel better. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Esteban: Hortensia, don’t start denying i.. Doña: I’m not in denial. I’m doing my makeup (closes the door to her bathroom) Esteban: (continues talking through the door) It makes sense. You’re not from a rich merchant family. Your family didn’t send you in to the city alone so you can learn the value of money. You did it because you had no choice, didn’t you? Doña: If you want to start your “the lady is a tramp” jokes, do it now. You have an hour before I kick you out. Esteban: Why didn’t you tell me? Doña: ....... Because Elena isn’t judgmental like you. She doesn’t have your high standards.

Esteban: You really think my opinion of you would lower because of your background? You’re an exception. You’re educated and talented and... Doña: No I’m not. How could I.. I mean... Remember, my ex Ferdinand? How you said he was wrong about how worthless I am. It was just lies and emotional abuse. All what he calls me, is true. I mean even you said it yourself. Remember?  Esteban: I.. I didn’t really mean it.... that way.  Doña: Yeah right.  (Comes out of the bathroom) I am stupid, and greedy and a selfish hypocrite. No let me finish. He’s right. I dropped out of school after my quinceñera, Esteban. I didn’t even finish 9th grade, I didn’t go to college. I don’t know how to photosynthesis or speak a different language. When I first met you, I would spend the night before our meetings, studying the dictionary so I would understand some of your lectures on foreign relations. I’m no where near your level of education as I’ve been pretending to be. And Ferdinand is right that I’m a hypocrite, I don’t associate with other poor people and I don’t. I don’t.

How could other people respect me if they figured that I didn’t grow up knowing the difference between pink and fuchsia. That I didn’t have a private tutor like you. Do you know how many times I have been told that I would end up a whore because of my station in life. I couldn’t pay my dowry. And we tried, we tried so hard but they asked too much! And its not like I have any other choices. I’m not smart nor do I have a special talent. Basically, if I must quote *him*, “If I don’t pay my dowry and be supported, I’ll just be another whore with a body. Not good enough to be married, not worth enough to be even paid for a bed like a prostitute. “

As for my family? No, they were not merchants from Nueva Vista. I did not grow up rich. So rich I was sent to Avalor City to learn the value of money. I worked to provide for them and I failed. I didn’t work hard enough. I was too slow and selfish. I was so sad being alone, and homesick that I wasted time.

I was working to become the Magister, I was in all the right circles. I didn’t do enough. They died one by one from disease and starvation and exhaustion.

I was wanting to feel loved as they were sick and starving. I wanted them to tell me to stop working and come back because they missed me so much. Me, me, me! All I thought about me. It is my fault.  Esteban: No. 

Doña: Yes, I accept that. I just didn’t think it would matter to anyone. At least they hardly mattered enough for people to help. As you can imagine, they were born for a reason. They didn’t work enough. They deserve it. 

Esteban: I wish you’d told me before. 

Doña: Yeah, well... you wouldn’t have...I mean. Esteban when we broke up for the sake our duties I... it’s so stupid but I-I got unrealistic and stupid and I thought maybe you’d change your mind, and stand by me through it all. More than your fear of Shuriki, more than your guilt to your family. But love doesn’t conquer all. And if you didn’t stay when I was perfect than why would you stay if you knew how I really was? 

Esteban: Do you think I’m that shallow? I wasn’t that bad. I wouldn’t have said it was all your fault that you were poor.  Doña: Yes, you would have. You thought most poor people deserve what they got for not working hard enough like how Shuriki always raged on you.  Esteban: I’m not like Shuriki.

Doña: I’m not saying you were like her, it’s just-

Esteban: But I wasn’t. I’m tired of you seeing me as the villain because you think all royals are snobs. I’m not like that. I didn’t do anything wrong. 

Doña: Yes you were! You still are. Esteban: I-I respect Miss Turner despite her low rank. I’d listen to her opinions. 

Doña: Sorry I haven’t been up to date on your change in mindset.

Esteban: I’m just saying, I’m not the villein you paint me to be.  Doña: I’m not saying you are a villain but you are not the most tolerant. And I don’t hold that against you, you’re “better” now. But don’t pretend you weren’t like that. 

Esteban: I didn’t do..

Doña: Don’t feel bad, everyone is like that. After all  it’s not their problem. It’s mine. My feelings don’t matter in the long run. They’ll listen and leave. They don’t care. It would be like I hadn’t told anyone at all.

Esteban: I wasn't-I’m not like those people.

Doña: That’s not my point. Get out!  Esteban: But- Fine! 

Post All Kingdoms Fair 

 Esteban (covered in mud after trying to ride bareback on a horse) Maybe racing you after you lost Magister of Trade wasn't the best idea. Doña: Hmmm maybe you should have thought of that before helping Julio win, Chancellor. 

Esteban: You must know it's not personal. Kingdom before thy self. 

Doña: And the betterment of the kingdom lies in someone full of idealism and no experience! No. No way. You are far too smug about this for it not to be personal. 

Esteban: With Elena's return, I've come to realize that though we have done a good job in making Avalor stable and prosperous..there needs to be changes to make the city more vibrant. More happy than it was under Shuriki. You're too stuck in your ways, it’s more about you than the kingdom, and think you know best and... Dona: I do know best. Esteban: You're going to eventually burn out. You must admit you've been getting more stressed.

Doña: How do you know I- You get stressed and cry about your job. You don't see me trying to give your chancellorship to Naomi! Esteban: I'm just saying.. you'll have more time with your emporium and to do other things. Doña: Oh then thank you, Esteban for giving me so much extra time for me to think and be alone with my thoughts. Just what I always wanted. Esteban: Complain now, in the future---I told you so. 

Doña: Hmph. Not before I say I told you so when Julio fails miserably. And he will. He's so happy and wants to help everybody, it's like putting Armando in charge. He's going to give everything away. No more advantageous trade deals..ugh it's going to be horrible. Esteban: Have I mentioned that I'm going to miss that crazed look in your eye when you negotiate to get more goods for Avalor than whatever other kingdom? Doña: Why should I care more about other people than myself! I mean, I'm sorry are you serving the people of Avalor or the people of our allies? Avalorans come first, why should we serve their interests when we have to put our peoples needs before anything else? Like money for streets, and food transportation and- 

Esteban: Yes, I am going to miss that. Doña: Insufferable Esteban: Ruthless. Want to eat? Doña: Know it al— huh what? Esteban: Would you like to eat?

Post Incredible Shrinking Royals 

(After the dressing down by Elena and the Grand Council) 

Doña: Well that went well.  Esteban: Speak for yourself. You don’t live with her.  Doña: I don’t see what they’re so upset about. Even if we hadn’t invited King Hector, I’m sure something would have gone wrong. Things always end up crazy ever since you’re cousin became queen. Sure, Julio somewhat saved the day but that was just dumb luck. Next time I’ll get to say I told you so. Next time he won’t be.. 

Esteban gives her the look.  Doña: Okay maybe not.. 

Esteban: It doesn’t matter. There won’t be a next time for us. I’m on probation and Julio rightly fired you.  They lapse into silence 

Esteban: (smirks) But since we’re on the subject. I told you so.  Doña: What! What are you talking about?  Esteban: Remember? At our picnic after All Kingdoms Fair. I reserved the right to say “I told you so” when Julio succeeded. And I would say continued trade deals between Satu, Paraíso, Norburg and Avalor to be a success. I was right, you’re wrong.  (Doña sputters and Esteban continues his little victory dance and they reach the castle door. Oddly, Doña doesn’t leave immediately but pauses as Esteban starts to walk away.) 

Esteban: Hmm you missed just our schemes. It sounds more like someone misses talking to me.   Doña: I no I mean..You were the one who initiated those private chats after the Feast of Friendship and All Kingdoms Fair. It seems you’re the one who misses talking to me.  

Esteban: And and? You miss someone else?  Doña: Ugh Esteban, you know you’re insufferable.  Esteban: “I miss y-”  Doña: Ay dios mio.  Esteban: Say it. 

Doña: You’re not going to stop, Are you?  Esteban: Here I’ll help you start. You missed.... 

Doña: You. Yes. I missed you. Working together- okay scheming together was- I don’t know. It felt like old times. Esteban: That wasn’t so hard, was it? (Doña rolls her eyes) And just to clear the air...if we meet at the bar will I get to hear your real voice after you drink too much wine? 

Doña: (pauses and tries to regain herself) Whata what are you-” 

Esteban: No, no no. Don’t try to deny it! I was right! I thought I was imagining things because I drank too much wine! 

Doña: Ugh Esteban!

Esteban: So will you?  Doña: No, no no no no. That was a little mistake. This is my normal voice now. I’ve used it much longer.  Esteban: But...but come on. It’s your voice. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not bad to be poor. Doña: Ashamed and bad are two different things. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But it is very bad to be poor. It’s matters. Esteban: It shouldn’t be that important. What matters is if you’re qualified for the job, not how you sound or where you came from.  Doña: They wanted to hire someone who was rich and educated from the city. I sound like that. I worked too hard to let something stupid than what I sound like to keep me from getting the job I needed, the jobs I wanted. Besides, you’re right that I am qualified in where it matters most, experience.  Esteban: But it couldn’t be that... it doesn’t matter. 

Doña: Yes it does matter, Esteban. Life’s not fair. Money, who has it and who doesn’t. It’s caused so much pain. You don’t know how people have treated me because they knew I was from a village. It only mattered to me that I was raped. Only I cared about my miscarriage. But the doctors didn’t care all because I couldn’t pay. It only mattered to me that I was starving or cold but the grocers wouldn't give me for free. And when I tried to explain, I was trying to provide for others, it was always the same thing. I had no right to ask for exceptions, I’m not special. It happens to other people. I should get over it. I should. It happened in the past. I should stop thinking about it. It’s in the past. It doesn’t affect me. I don’t deserve anything. I should be working harder for my fill. I shouldn’t have pride or act smart because I’m poor, I’m obviously none of those things. 

Money matters. It gives you value. Now I’m rich, I have too much prestige for them to deny me. They’d never think that I’m stupid or talentless.

Esteban: But you act like... You can at least have some more empathy for others. You don’t have to tell them your backstory but at least.. 

Doña: But it wouldn’t have been as believable.  Esteban: But Julio and other merchants..

Doña: It’s not the same. Sure, their lives are tough blah blah, they still inherited their businesses... still I suppose I could have... but..but I get so scared that people will figure it out and then they’ll think I’m just as vulgar and lazy as before. Because that is what poor people are meant to be. Menial labor. Ignored and derided and why would I ever risk going back to that position in life? It may be hypocritical but it is worth it if it lets me keep what I have. 

 Because that’s what I am. Without money, I’m so worthless- I-I don’t matter. I’m a worthless. So so worthless.  Esteban: No, you’re not.  I’ll admit I am surprised that you are not educated as I was but that just speaks to how intelligent you are anyway. You’ve learned on the job and you’ve been tremendously successful. As for your family, I am sorry. I don’t know what to say but.. but I think..  Doña: Don’t try with some Día de Los Muertos talk of honoring them. You have not starved before, you do not know that kind of pain and the kind of hatred you’d feel for suffering from it. I was selfish. I was so selfish. My family put their faith in me. I’m the capable one. I’m the provider. And I failed. They’re dead because of me. 

Esteban: Okay. But I didn’t... you never act like you feel.. 

Doña: We’ve argued about this, remember? I want to remember them, but I- I’m not like you. I don’t want to be consumed with grief and worthlessness, to push others away because of my guilt. Twenty three years was enough. If I have to force myself to forget in order to feel less guilty, so be it. 

Esteban: I still think no, never mind. Fine.... But you must know how I feel about you, and I would never think you’re worthless. Poor village girl or not. It doesn’t matter. 

Esteban: You don’t have to talk now but when you are ready. I will be here for you and.. Doña: No, don’t. You don’t mean it. Don’t tell me a lie to me. You’ve said it before. I’ve changed too much. You hate me. You think I’m a selfish, gre- no no. I’d rather not be comforted than comforted this one time and not again. Don’t comfort me once and leave. It hurts too much. It hurts. I’m used to no comfort, I’m used to it. I’m fine please don’t.” Esteban: (shakes his head) “....And I will hold you and I will listen. And I will still love you all the same.” 

Esteban: I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t have accepted you if I knew the truth. I’m sorry. Sorry mi llorena. Doña: Shut up. Esteban: Sorry it just really fits. And you know, I don’t hate you. You’re still sort of how you were.  Doña: And maybe you’ve grown away from the past a bit.  (So they hug for a little bit and Esteban decides to break the ice.) Esteban: Look how nice we’re being to each other. Do you think we could act like this all the time?

Doña: What? No! We’d have to fight less and be nice to each other and freaks people out for some reason. They are going to think I’m blackmailing you. Heh, like near the end of Naomi’s quinceñera I was going to congratulate you. But Lady Yolanda took me away because she thought I was drunk. Esteban: Really? It’s that unbelievable?

Doña: It’s fine. I didn’t want to congratulate you anyway. Esteban: (shakes head) Of course not. You’re right. The more we get along the more people will be disturbed. It would never work. But.. if you ever want to talk about your family, you can. It’s only fair since I’ve told you so much about my parents. Doña: (nods) Yeah, it’d be nice to talk to someone. I tried that..that psychiatrist idea you said I should. You know, for three minutes.  Esteban: Three minutes? You know you have to talk to him for longer than that right?  Doña: Yes but he was stupid. He wanted to know if I had a bad childhood or abandonment issues. I had a very happy childhood and I have no abandonment issues whatsoever. He didn’t give me a refund either.  Esteban: Well you do have a point, he must have not been a very good psychiatrist if he was trying to get into your clear emotional abandonment and repression issues without first addressing your borderline amnesiac denial. Doña: I don’t (Esteban gives her a look) Denial is nice. It keeps me from reflecting on feelings and other things. Once I think of one thing, it leads to another and then all the grief and guilt come in to consume you, you know. (Slight silence) 

Esteban: I know..... (shakes himself out of his thoughts) As I was saying, denial as a coping mechanism and how you focus on your ego and your money in order to avoid emotional attachment. Doña: I-I don’t! You found those fancy terms when you went to a psychiatrist for your superiority inferiority complex and survivors guilt with emotional repression.  Oh right you don’t “need” a therapist. Hmmm... 

Esteban: Okay, I just don’t have time for it. At least I know I have problems. I don’t deny it.  Doña: Which is more of a reason that you need the psychiatrist more than I do. You know you should but you don’t go.  Esteban: You still need to go more than I.  Doña: No you do.  Esteban: You do. 

(Both try to one-up each other with “You do”s) Esteban: You do! But if it makes you feel better, I missed talking to you. A little. And maybe since....with Elena around, and Julio as Magister we have time. The economy doesn’t depend on us. We don’t have to be so professional anymore and put together. We can have our talks on Sundays, like we used to.  Doña: Yeah but...l you have your family for that. You don’t need to.  Esteban: Yes, I do. It’s... You know the dark times. You know things that I haven’t told them. You’d get it. 

Doña: You know, I hate to say you’re right but you’re the only person I consider a friend. And Esteban? I’m sor..argh I’m not used to apologizing. One second, okay, I’m truly sorry that I said you were similar to Shuriki. I didn’t mean it. I was angr-...I was angry but that doesn’t justify it. It was uncalled for and untrue. I never believed that. You have done so much and you’re nothing like her. I have always believed you were a better person and that Avalor is lucky to have you fixing her reign of terror. You’re a hero.

Esteban: (wavery smile) Please. Don’t mention it.