#but like wow finally after 3 fuckin weeks I’m surprised my heart didn’t give out

[vaulthuntersmybeloved]

When I said I wanted to donate my body to science I meant AFTER I was dead 😭

[fanfuckingfic]

You Move Like Real People Do

(Choreographer!Jimin x Ecologist!Namjoon x Singer!Reader)

Summary: Sometimes loving someone is just too easy. It just sinks into you so deeply or floats you away so high either way it shouldn't be hard to hold on to.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: (Sappy fluff, polyamory, lots of talk about bog bodies, excessive amounts of admiration, the songs are literally Hozier’s and you should listen to them if you haven’t, oh my god this is so self indulgent)

A/N: I haven't written in like 3 years and I've never tried bullet fic style so please be nice :( also I love Hozier so much oh my god I literally just built a whole universe in my brain around his music + bangtan and I think Movement fits Jimin so well and LRPD is a sick song and Joon is a just weird nerd but anyway please enjoy and lemme know what you think! 

--------

Namjoon is an ecologist and Jimin is a choreographer and Y/n is a famous indie-rock blues singer/songwriter (literally just fucking Hozier because I love that man with every bit of my heart).

You and Joon are early risers and spend mornings sipping coffee and reading together on the couch while you wait for Jimin to get ready for the classes he teaches alongside being a choreographer so they can kiss him good morning and wish him a good day when he leaves.

You’re sure to put extra honey in his green tea to-go cup, and he kisses you both quickly on the cheek before scurrying out the door.

They both kind of fiddle around with their day cause Joon is a professor at the local university and only has classes twice a week and finished grading that last assignment yesterday.

So now he's watering his plants and terrariums in the greenhouse porch you all have and your sitting there fiddling with your guitar, messing around with some chords sometimes writing them down sometimes not.

Casually you ask Joon which student had the best paper.

“One student went out of their way to be a kiss ass if that counts.”

You ask how he means with a chuckle.

“Well you know how I've been writing a thesis about bog bodies and what-not?”

“Yes of course, love, you only remind me of the phenomenon every chance you have.” You look up at him with mock disdain. 

His eyebrows furrow, “I thought you liked talking about the bog bodies” He pouts and you honestly can't even try to deny it.

“I do, I think it's kind of beautiful- not like dead people that's shitty- but when you describe how the swamps and bogs preserve them and how they’re found.” You take in a deep breath mulling over your words for moment.

“You make things like that sound so beautiful, Joonie. Even if I don't get half the big sciencey words you say. It sorta sounds like people falling in love with something they shouldn't but doing it anyway.” You smile to yourself thinking of him talking to (mostly at) you.

Namjoon still gets flustered easily by your and Jimin's creative ways of declaring your love.

He hears Jimin's tinkling laugh in your music and his own words in your songs, sometimes he feels like he doesn't love you both back enough but you both are quick remind him that he doesn't show love through notes and twirls

He shows them through flowers he picks and the way he's always willing to interrupt himself to explain something when he sees confusion in either of your eyes, because he knows you want to but wont stop his train of thought, you both want to understand what he's babbling on about because you love him.

(And he looks so fuckin hot when he goes on his passionate rants about certain bacteria being the back bone for an entire ecosystem how could you not?)

He blushes and clears his throat.

You always find the beauty in everything, can turn just about anything into a love story, a poem.

He loves that about you and Jimin you're both so able to make the world more beautiful with your bodies and minds. You both love that he adds so much sustenance to that beauty. 

“You're right, bog bodies deserve love, just like any real person does. But a student wrote their paper on them and used me as a source in their reference page.” He huffs, still amused by the students' tenacity. 

“Any real person, huh? You gave them an A didn't you?” You absorb his words before deadpanning.

Namjoon doesn't answer and instead bends down to kiss your lips then your forehead before he goes back to being very interested in how his Venus fly trap is doing.

Some days when your writer's block is extra bad and you've been struggling to come up with lyrics that mean anything or chords to go with them, Jimin asks if you want to come with him to the studio.

He's just experimenting with some new choreography so it's just you two. 

He notices when you get into these slumps you can't quite reach your way out of and staying in the house all cooped up trying to get inspired by the same things you see everyday isn't going to help. 

It's a classical piece a dance company hired him to choreograph, wordless dancing was always his forte.

Feeling the music move through him and around him, throw him to and fro. He likes to feel like a tool of expression- like an instrument to be played. 

You watch him work and think and move, over and over again, something just slightly different each time just slightly closer to what he wants. 

He's breathless by the time he comes to sit next you against the back wall he saw you staring the whole time and loves how he can still make you and Joon speechless and swooning even after all the years together. 

“Sometimes I forget you're real, you know, when you dance.” You murmur head on your knees still in a daze after watching him.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow and smirks.

“The hell does that mean?” He simpers, knowing you're probably about to say something that will completely floor him and make him fall for you even harder. 

“You just stop looking real I guess, you look like if I reached out to touch you, you would still just be barley out of reach, like driving towards a rainbow or a mirage, ya know?” 

He quirks his head, not really understanding what you mean but trying to.

“You're just so good at using your body to show a concept you almost kind of become one. I don't know, mostly, I just feel like I'd chase you forever if you really were unreachable like that, I don't think I'd mind.” You shrug and reach for his hand to fiddle with. 

He exhales in surprise. He was absolutely right. Floored.

“Would you dance with me? Running after me doesn't sound as pretty as us dancing together forever.” He asks twisting you fingers with his.

“I don't think I'd have a choice not wanting to dance with you would be like not wanting to breathe.”

He sighs dramatically. “Babe! How am I supposed to be okay after you say shit like that? Huh?” He laughs and shoves your shoulder playfully.

You laugh and fall over pulling him with you. 

Namjoon comes by later with drinks from the cafe he knows Jimin loves and finds you both slow dancing in the middle of the empty studio.

You both pull him in between you and continue to sway back and forth. It's sweet and romantic and your drinks go cold before any of you are ready to let go of each other.

Your latest album was amazing and you're about to go on tour and you're nervous to be away from your guys for so long cause last time you went on tour you weren’t as famous and such didn't go to different countries to perform. 

You're gonna miss them terribly and they miss you twice as bad and they definitely bawl their eyes out when your tour bus is out of sight.

They tried really hard to keep up the smiles for you cause you deserve the success and the recognition without guilt or reservations but wow the house is so quiet without your absent-minded humming and strumming and no knew pieces of paper with potential lyrics scattered around the countertops. 

You all keep in touch of course- face-timing at least once a day with both or either of them and you ask them not to watch any recorded performances cause you don't want them to spoil it for when you come back and do your final home concert. 

Your reason being: you left two songs off the album you wanted to perform on tour.

So now it's your last concert before you get to sleep in the same bed as your loves again, they arrive early but you're still too busy with sound check and your drummer having boyfriend problems to get more than a hug and kiss to each of them. 

They don't mind though they know how concerts are for you. You love them- you get to give your fans a bit of your soul and they all give a bit right back. 

They meander through the crowd towards the front not too close though. Your manager tried to get them to stay backstage but they both wanted to get the full experience since they did as promised and had steered clear of any footage of the concert. 

When you walk out everyone lights up and the energy in the whole concert hall shifts.

You smile so bright and they're close enough they can see the surprise on your face when you look down into the crowd and see them. Your eyes soften and get a little misty but ever the professional you trudge on. 

Song after song you work the crowd into the comfort of your melodies and words have people screaming, crying and eating out of the palm of your hand so easily. 

You get to the end of your set, Namjoon and Jimin know- you'd asked them for help when planning the show. They knew which songs you were gonna sing and when but it didn't occur to them it seemed just a bit short until now when you're clearly your throat and asking for the house lights to be brought up just a bit. 

“The next two songs are love songs, I would sing about political injustice and grieving a metaphorical loss all day if I could-” the crowd hoots a few times with their chuckles and Namjoon and Jimin feel surprised grins growing on their faces.

“but I'm just too in love to not write a song or two.”

You strum a tune he’s only slightly familiar with, its something he’s heard you tweak for the past year or so.

“The lyrics of this one are a bit odd and terribly specific to a certain person so bare with me.” 

The auditorium murmurs a laugh again knowing your lyrics more often than not are. 

“I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, The bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging?

What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

The piano sounds and the haunting harmony from your back up singers makes Namjoon’s heart race. 

He knows what you're singing about, Jimin knows too he might not get it as well as Namjoon does right now- some of the things Joon talks about are just slightly too icky for him- but he does know that if he could dance about Joon’s brain he would. 

He smiles when Namjoon's hand squeezes his, his eyes unable to look away from you and the little story being told between you two right now. 

“I knew that look dear, eyes always seeking 

Was there in someone, that dug long ago

So I will not ask you, why you were creeping

In some sad way I already know

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you and neither would you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

Noli timere Namjoon hears the words being dragged and stretched in your vocals and his heart clenches.

“I could not ask you where you came from

I could not ask you, neither could you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We could just kiss like real people do”

Your voice tapers off and the strums slow as you open your eyes and hold his gaze meaningfully. 

Namjoon is left feeling like he's floating.

You wrote a song about something he cares about, you wrote him a song about one of his favorite things even if it is a very creepy weird thing.

You took all the thoughts he poured into your ears and made it something people could love just a little bit easier. He almost thought he couldn't love you more than he already did.

“This next one might be a bit less niche but if you've ever seen your lover dance you would know exactly what its about.” 

The heavy dip of bass vibrates their feet and a resounding clap comes to fill the air as the surprise and tears come his eyes. 

“I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved”

Jimin’s hand comes to his mouth and you smile mischievously into your mic.

“You are a call to motion

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Like Jonah on the ocean

When you move, I'm moved

When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move I could never define all that you are to me”

You look directly at him making sure he knows this is his song. 

“So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

You are the rite of movement

Its reasonin' made lucid and cool

I know it's no improvement

When you move, I move”

Jimin laughs wetly at your joke. You’re wrong- he thinks- your body is absolutely and improvement of any situation. 

“You're less Polunin leapin'

Or Fred Astaire in sequence

Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'

And when you move, I'm moved

When you move I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move, Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby, Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose, move me, baby

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Oh baby, oh baby

Move like grey skies

Move like a bird of paradise

Move like an odd sight come out at night”

The sudden crash of the band coming together to put music to your declaration makes goosebumps rise on Jimin's skin, Namjoon looks between you both and his heart melts softly in his chest. Just the admiration between you both enough to make him fall all over again.

“Move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to lose

And nothin' to prove, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby”

The calls and hums of you and your back up singers echo quietly before applause assaults their ears, the cheering nothing short of deafening. 

You bow and wave backing away from the mic for a few moments- taking in the last show you'll be doing for a while- before walking off stage.

Namjoon knows he should be pulling Jimin with him towards backstage so they can smother you with love properly but hey can't move Jimin has tears streaming down his face and Namjoon is too awestruck about you remembering him going on about the last words of a poet who had written about the bog bodies and how you always just cared so much about him and Jimin.

Eventually they do move through the leaving crowd towards security, the guards already aware of their faces escort them.

They knock on the green room door with your name next to it. 

It swings open so quickly they flinch back and the woman barreling into their arms throws them back at least a foot. 

“I missed you so much” you all but sob into their chests. Clinging tightly to their shirts.

They share a look over your head all too endeared with your clinginess having missed it terribly for the past months.

“We missed you too angel.” Jimin sighs into your hair, much closer to your head than Namjoon. 

Namjoon hums in agreement then sniffles making you both turn your faces up to look at him, Namjoon crying was a really rare thing well maybe in comparison with you and Jimin who will cry at an emotionally manipulative commercial without hesitation. 

You're both slightly shocked to see tear tracks on his adorably reddened face and him struggling to control his breathing.

“Ooh Joonie.” You coo then pull them both into the green room and start wiping at his cheeks. He sniffles again and it's absolutely precious.

“Y-you sang about b-bog bodies!” He sobs hauling you off your feet pushing the air out of your lungs. 

Jimin laughs and sniffs wiping at his now wet face too. 

“You guys liked them? They weren’t corny?” You wheeze as he sets you back down between them.

“Are you kidding?! You referenced Sergei Polunin, that's so corny, babe.” Jimin pets your cheek and kisses it tenderly. “Of course we loved them.”

“I'm gonna put my song in my thesis, its gonna open a whole flood gate for the romanticism of them.'' Namjoon says, mostly to himself, still shaky with tears.

Jimin pulls you both in for another hug and in a similar state to Namjoon says, “I’m gonna choreograph both of our songs. I’m dropping all my projects for it- right now.”

You laugh and shake your head before pulling back to take them both in again still not over how long it’d been since you got hold them. 

“You wanna go somewhere? Get a welcome home drink or meal or candle or something?” Jimin asks, putting your hair back into place as best he can. 

“That diner with the shakes on 5th is probably still open-” Namjoon starts but you shake your head.

“Can we just go home? I missed you so much.” They both nod with the softest smiles and each grip a hand.

Your tour bus dropped off most of your stuff at home earlier that day so Namjoon just takes your backpack and Jimin pulls your guitar over his shoulder. But not before asking with a smirk-

“Did you say Fred Astaire in sequins?”

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Thank you for reading <3 Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! It’ll lets me know if I should write more or not

[calpalirwin]

Parent Teacher Conference

A/N: Anon request- Okay but single dad ashton au where he doesnt wanna risk getting his kid involved with a woman but ur the new teacher for them and yall meet and he falls madly for u

Content: All the feels! And swearing.

And away, and away we go!

~~~

“C’mon, Seb, get a move on,” I called out, peeking my head into the bathroom.

My carbon-copy of a son with a mop of brown-blond curls turned to me, toothbrush in his mouth, and grinned. “Dad! I’m in big kid school now!” his voice muffled around the toothbrush.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna be late if you don’t step it up a notch.”

4th grade. My 9 year old was going into 4th grade. I choked back the memories, refusing to cry, because “Dad, stop crying, it’s only 4th grade.”

“You’re right, bud, it’s only 4th grade,” I had told him, tucking him into bed last night. To him, it was only 4th grade. For me, this was also the anniversary of the day his mom left us 8 years ago.

I looked at my son, his brand new sneakers that would have scuff marks on them when I picked him up later, a long sleeved flannel tied around his waist. God, if it weren’t for the fact that he was clearly me- the eyes and the giggle were a dead give away- I swear he was Luke’s. “Uncle Lu tell you to dress like that?” I asked.

The curls bounced as his head bobbed up and down. “He said it was cool. And I wanna be cool, Dad. It’s 4th grade.”

I imitated my head exploding. God, when did this kid grow up? Seemed like just yesterday his entire body could fit in my hands.

“Dad? Dad!”

I shook my head, clearly the thoughts. “Yeah, bud?”

“Can we go now?” he asked, a Spider-Man backpack slung over one of his shoulders.

“C’mon, then,” I smiled.

~~~

It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried dating since Seb’s mom left us. I had. I was just very selective. I didn’t want to bring a woman home, have things go wrong, and be left to pick up not only my broken pieces but my son’s as well.

My heart was one thing. I’d been known to be reckless with it. But, my son’s was another matter entirely. He was too young to know heartache.

Plus every time I had to cancel a date last minute because Seb got sick, or left a date early because Seb called me in tears asking where I was, didn’t lend itself to much romance. Girls could go on and on about how hot single dads were, but what they failed to realize is that my son would always be my number 1 priority.

~~~

“Mr. Irwin, I’d like to talk to you about Sebastian. Is there anyway you can meet with me after school? Say 2:45?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. School had only been in session for a month. It couldn’t be time for parent-teacher conferences already. Which only meant one thing- something had happened with Seb. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Who was that?” Calum asked me.

“Seb’s teacher. She wants to talk with me after school.”

“Isn’t his teacher hot?” Mike asked.

“What? No… I mean, she’s attractive, sure. But, she’s his teacher.”

“Ooo, Ash like the teacher!” Luke teased.

I felt my face flush. Alright, maybe I did a little. She was attractive, stunningly so, and she was a teacher. Which meant she understood kids. And maybe, that just might mean she understood single dads.

~~~

“Hello?” I asked, sticking my head in the classroom at 2:45.

The bell had rung fifteen minutes ago and I still hadn’t seen my son. Now, I saw why, as he was hunched in his desk reading, a scowl on his face.

“Dad!” his face lit up when he heard my voice.

“Keep reading, Sebastian,” his teacher’s voice said firmly.

“Yes ma’am…”

“Mr. Irwin, glad you could make,” she smiled softly at me. “Please, have a seat.”

I moved to sit in chair she had just besides her desk. “So, you wanted to talk?” I asked.

“Yes. It seems your son had an incident with a classmate on the playground today.”

“Seb?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice level.

“Alex is a jerk! And she took away my recess!” he shouted at me.

“Sebastian,” both his teacher and I warned, and then I had to work at keeping the smile off my face.

“Anyway,” she said, turning her attention back to me. “There was an incident. Both boys lost their recess privileges for the rest of this week and next week.”

“You keep saying ‘incident,’ what happened exactly?”

“I keep saying ‘incident,’ Mr. Irwin, because your son is an incredibly… strong-willed individual.”

“You can just say he’s stubborn. And it’s Ash, please.”

“I prefer the term strong-willed, Ash,” she smiled at me again and I liked the way it was genuine and soft, her eyes crinkling at the edges. And I liked the way my name sounded rolling off her lips. And I was in trouble.

“So, my stubborn son won’t tell you what happened?”

“Precisely. And I’m not one to involve admin if I can help it. But in order to not involve admin, I need to know what happened. That’s where I’m hoping you can come in.”

“Seriously, Seb? She just said she’s not gonna send you to the principal, and you’re mad she took away recess from you?”

“She wouldn’t take my recess away if she knew what Alex said!” His book was now closed and clenched in his fists, vibrating with his tiny rage.

“Sebastian, I would love to know what Alex said,” she told him, keeping herself calm even though my son was far from it himself. Was that a special gift all teachers had, or just her? “But, every time I ask, you just tell me he was being a jerk. Maybe you’d like to tell your dad instead?”

“He is a jerk!” he screamed, throwing his book. “He’s… he’s… he’s a fuckin asshole!”

“Sebastian James Irwin! What the hell has gotten into you? Start explaining yourself, now!”

His face scrunched up as he realized I was now angry with him. “He said I didn’t have a mom!” he wailed at me before bursting into tears and running out of the classroom.

I fell back in my seat, watching him run off, my heart shattering in my chest. He was right. This Alex kid was a fuckin asshole.

“You okay?” her voice sounded, her hand touching mine.

“I thought I was doing everything right…”

“You are. Sebastian is by far one of the best students I’ve had. He’s so kind and polite to everybody. He’s funny, too. Which is why today surprised me. It seemed so out of character.”

“I better go after him,” I sighed, getting up.

“I’ll come with,” she offered, getting up herself.

It was the first time a girl had offered to come with me before when dad duty called. I couldn’t help it. I smiled at her.

“Now, I see where Sebastian gets his smile from,” she smiled back.

~~~

We found him huddled in the corner of the highest part of the play structure.

“Would you get down, please?” I asked from the ground. Climbing up there myself was going to be a bitch.

“No! Go away! I hate you!”

“Love you too, bud!”

“Where’s my mom?”

“I don’t know, bud. Come down so we can talk, please.”

“No!”

“That wasn’t a question, Seb.”

“I don’t care!”

“You have to the count of 3 to get down here, or I’m coming up there,” I said, really hoping I didn’t have to go up there after him. “1.”

“No!”

“2!”

“I hate you!”

3!” I started my ascent. My kid, the fuckin brat that he was, waited until I was on the middle platform before launching himself down the slide. “You stay right there,” I warned, moving to go back down.

“Sebastian,” I heard her voice say as he started to run. “Are we making smart choices right now, or are we acting on impulse?”

“Impulse…” he answered, stopping in his tracks.

“And, what do we want to do?”

“Make smart choices…”

“So, what do we do to calm our impulses, so we can make smart choices?”

“Breathe…”

“Alright, breathe with me. Ready?”

“Yeah…”

“And, inhale, 3, 4, 5, 6. Hold. Exhale, 4, 3, 2 , 1,” she coached as I watched. Was she trying to make me fall in love with her? “Better?”

“Better…”

“Alright, you ready to tell us what’s wrong?”

“Alex said-” he started, already getting upset again.

She held up a finger. “Calmly, Sebastian. What upset you?”

“My feelings were hurt when Alex said I didn’t have a mom.”

“Why?”

“Because it made me feel sad.”

“Why?”

“Because I have Dad. And Uncle Cal, Lu, and Mikey. And grandma. And Auntie Lauren, and Uncle Harry. And Auntie Crystal and Auntie Sierra.”

“Wow, sounds like you have a lot of people who love you.”

“But, I don’t have a mom…”

“Lots of people don’t have moms. Or dads. Spider-Man didn’t have his parents. Was he still loved?”

“Yeah…”

“So, what’s wrong?”

“Am I broken?”

“No, Seb,” I finally spoke up. Great. My life had come full circle. I was the man without a dad, raising a son without a mom. And now he was asking himself the same questions I used to ask myself. I crouched down to be eye level with him. “You know why you don’t have a grandpa?”

“Because… I dunno…”

“Because I don’t have a dad.”

“Where is your dad?”

“I dunno. But what I do know is that I’m not broken. And neither are you.”

“Are they in Heaven or…?” he asked, struggling with the concept of someone just abandoning him like it was nothing. Death made sense. But just straight up leaving your kid? Hell, even I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“No. I wish that were the case, but, no. They just left.”

“So, they didn’t want us…? Why?”

“I dunno, bud. But, I know that I want you. And I know that all your aunties, uncles, and grandma want you. We love you, Seb, and you’re always gonna have us. Promise.”

He nodded, seeming to accept that our love would be enough for him. Then, “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“Can Miss Y/L/N come with us to get ice cream?”

“Oh, you think you’re getting ice cream after this stunt? Keep dreamin, pal!”

“But, you promised if I got on A on my test we’d get ice cream. Show him, Miss! Show him my test!”

She laughed and nodded. “Sebastian did get an A on his fractions test. Perfect score in fact.”

“See? Pay up, Daddy-o!” Seb laughed at me.

“Who taught you to call me ‘Daddy-o’, Seb?” I asked, giggling.

“Uncle Lu!”

I laughed again. Of course it was. “Alright. But only 1 scoop.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said skipping off.

“So, would it be too forward if I asked you to ice cream? I mean, the kid… he’s been through a lot today. You don’t wanna break his heart, do ya?”

She laughed. “You rely on him to get all your dates?”

“Only the ones that are worth it. You’re great with him. He really likes having you as a teacher.”

“I really like having him as a student. I hear his dad’s pretty cute, too.”

“Cute dad, huh? Did you hear he’s single?”

“Oh, wow. Did you hear his teacher’s single too, and happens to love ice cream?”

[fal-carrington]

Just The Two Of Us Pt.5

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc x Adrian

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part.3 // Part.4

Prompt: After the last night fighting against Gaius, before his fall, he puts his plan into execution, changing the lives of Adrian, Kamilah and Mia forever. Friendships may end, a heart may be broken and a new love may arise. In the end who will win the girl's heart?

Tag list: @rocket-scientist07 @galaxyside-0 @gavryllo @zoe6111 @iam-the-fuckin-queen @bucket-harrington @scarlet-letter-a0114 @delphinusbae @ilovekamilahsayeed @jellymonster @deereboy97 @justejuste727​ @thepotatobleh​ @jen825​ @whoinvitedalx​ @rubyheartjane​ @desiree-0816​ @sleeping-with-her06​ @riyalovestaylor​ @pizzapyjamas​ @thecleveridiot09​ @demonknightrevelations​ @dragonaceflamez​ @garlickk​ @ella-raines​ @spacecarrousel​ @walking-mess-talking​ @nydeiri​ @tigerbryn11

Michigan, 8h40pm

Mia’s pov

As the big house appeared at the end of the street and the car slowed, the air caught in Mia's lungs. Being back home after so long away was surreal. She couldn't help, but wonder how much everything had changed. Memories of her past invaded her mind, good memories, memories of her childhood and adolescence in that old house with a large garden. Throughout the trip to Michigan, she kept her eyes locked on the window, little did she know the overwhelming longing would come. “Are you alright?” Kamilah asked as she stopped the car. Mia turned to her, seeing the look in those brown eyes, something was bothering Kamilah, she could tell.

"I'm fine, it's just... It's been awhile." She admitted looking out the window again, the lights were on, several cars surrounded the block, family cars, which she recognized perfectly. “Wow. My whole family is here. At least it's good to know my dad hasn't gotten rid of the truck yet.” She laughed pointing to the window. “Why are you nervous? You told your mom we were coming, right?” Kamilah asked with a frown.

“Of course. Everyone is very eager to meet you.” Mia said. “I… When I left home and decided to move to New York, my parents didn't really like the idea, but they supported me. I think my family settled into living a simple life, I wanted more, so I left. I've always been the most adventurous in the family. Now I'm coming back, and not even in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd be married. Especially with you.” Mia said taking a deep breath, looking deep into Kamilah's brown eyes, noticing that they stared back at her with sympathy. “I mean… I'm still getting used to all this, with you, with our life together. We arrived in Michigan by private jet, and you just parked a Mercedes on a street full of minivans, have any idea what that sounds like?” She laughed earning a half smile from Kamilah.“ I just don't want to look like a failure, you know?” "You're far from being one." Kamilah said attracting the blonde's attention. “I mean, anyone who gets me out of my building and makes me cross the country for a meeting of mortals deserves the credit.” Mia laughed at those words. “I'm about to meet your parents, and thats you who are nervous. This is the first time I will ever meet the parents of someone important in my life.” "Sorry about that. I know, It's bullshit... Wait. ”Mia shook her head and looked at her, confused. “I´m important now?” Kamilah rolled her eyes.

"No. Your parents are proud of you, I know that.” Kamilah gave a half smile before getting out of the car, leaving Mia smiling like a fool in the vehicle. Kamilah took the baggage, while Mia took her grandmother's gift. As they walked across the lawn toward her old house, the blonde looked appreciatively at the clothes Kamilah had chosen. 

“What?” Kamilah frowned. "Nothing. I guess I'm not used to seeing you without your suits on.” She laughed with a shrug, making the CEO look at her own look. She was so... casual and elegant. Her shiny brown hair was flawlessly as ever, Kamilah wore a large overcoat and navy blue sweater with jeans and heeled boots. Kamilah was wearing jeans. Which was new, and also very attractive. Mia noticed how the jeans further accentuated the CEO's body. It was unbelievable to see, the first thought that occurred in the blonde's mind was to take a picture and immediately send it to Lily. She would love to look at that. Kamilah rolled her eyes, walking ahead and not even noticing the blonde taking a picture of her on her back.

“Okay, let's do this.” She took a deep breath, and rang the bell, giving Kamilah a reassuring smile. "Just so you know, my parents can be a little... limitless." She smiled awkwardly. “What should this mean?” Kamilah asked without understanding. In a matter of seconds, the door opened, giving way to a blond woman, Kamilah couldn't help, but notice how Mia looked like her mother, and how the familiar smile on the corner of her mother-in-law's lips looked so much like her. “Miranda!” She spread her arms, smiling, pulling Mia into a tight bear hug. "Hey, mom." Mia grinned awkwardly, clutching her mother's arms. “Bill! They have arrived! ”She shouted. "Finally! Awn, my baby! ”She pulled away from Mia, pinching her cheeks, leaving a kiss on each. “We miss you so much!” "Me too, Mom." Mia tried to smile, her face growing redder with her mother's attention. Kamilah tried to keep the serious expression on her face, avoiding laughing at the situation, but seeing Mia, who always managed to embarrass her - ashamed of something, was extremely hilarious to her. “Mom, this is...” Mia stepped away, touching Kamilah's arm, drawing her mother's attention to her.

“…Kamilah.” Mia's mother looked her up and down with a wide smile on her face. Kamilah held out her hand for her mother-in-law to shake, just as she always greeted her clients and executives. But she clearly dismissed that, pulling Kamilah into a tight bear hug, surprising the CEO.

“Mom, Kamilah is not a big fan of hugs.” Mia laughed awkwardly. “Kamilah, this is my mother, Theresa.” “Nonsense. We are family, and we hug.” Theresa ignored her daughter. She pulled away after a few seconds, clutching Kamilah's cheeks. “But you're gorgeous, I'm impressed. I've heard so much about you.” “Good stuff, I hope?” Kamilah frowned. "Mostly." She laughed waving her hand. “Mom, can you let Kamilah breathe please?” Mia touched her arms. "Oh, sure." She pulled away. “Please come in.” She gave them room to enter. “BILL! Get your ass off this kitchen, they're here! ” Theresa walked out leaving both. "Sorry about that." Mia smiled awkwardly. “Are they all like this?” Kamilah whispered looking around. She could see how many of Mia's relatives were in the back of the house. Mia smiled with red cheeks, letting Kamilah believe that was a yes. A golden retriever emerged from the back of the house running to the front. “Holiday!” Mia shouted, getting to her knees to greet the dog. "Oh God. You have a dog too, perfect.” Kamilah rolled her eyes. Theresa had come back again, and this time she was with a man, as tall as Kamilah, she could see perfectly the small white strands beginning to appear on his blond hair. “Hey, dad.” Mia threw herself into the man's arms, who was beaming with his daughter in his arms. "Hey, big city, finally show up, huh?" He grinned and touched his daughter's cheeks. His eyes turned to Kamilah, the same green eyes. “So this is where they come from.” Kamilah thought to herself. “So this is my daughter-in-law, huh? Wow,” He approached Kamilah, Kamilah thought of reaching out to him, but he wrapped her in a hug before she did. "I'm Bill, I'm pretty sure Theresa has already explained our hug policy, right?"

“Yes, she did.” Kamilah smiled with a wide, beautiful, charming smile, leaving Mia knocked out as she watched. She saw the impact it had on her parents.

"We're so happy for both of you," Bill said with a wide smile on his face. "My little bear wouldn't shut up about you for weeks." He pointed at Mia.

“Dad!” Mia shouted with red cheeks, Kamilah bit back a smile. A particular joke forming in her mind to torment Mia when they were alone.

"What?" He shrugged.

"Ah, that reminds me." Kamilah opened a bag, revealing two bottles of Merlot. "I thought you both would like it."

“Oh, thanks, honey. This is so kind.” Theresa took one of the bottles and Bill the other.

“She's beautiful and has great taste for expensive wines, I like her. Maybe you should keep her, Miranda.” He pointed at Kamilah, Mia's cheeks got even more red.

"Dad!"

"Alright, alright. Why don't we let them pack up and then we catch up, huh?" Theresa touched her husband's arm. "Kamilah, I hope you don't mind staying in Mia's old room." "Of course not." Kamilah nodded.

“When you're done upstairs, come see the people. Nana is crazy to see you, Mia.” Theresa said with a smile on her face, touching her daughter's cheek before going out with her husband. 

Mia led Kamilah up the stairs, Kamilah noticed the selection of picture frames scattered around the house attracting the CEO's attention, as she followed the blonde through the house. Mia took a deep breath and opened the door of her old room. The walls were pink, with butterfly stickers on the walls, the furniture was white, a king bed took the center of the room, not as big as the bed where both used to sleep, it was smaller. Kamilah watched from the books to the boyband posters. 

"It's quite... Feminine." Kamilah managed to say. 

"I was fifteen when I decorated." Mia said with red cheeks. 

“If you say so.” Kamilah exchanged glances with the blonde before leaving her suitcase on a small sofa in the corner of the room. 

“Oh, you have no idea how much I missed my room. Everything is exactly the same as I left it.” Mia said holding one of the photographs in hand, a smile on her face. Mia glanced over her shoulder and noticed that Kamilah kept her eyes glazed on her cell phone.“Hey. You promised. No work this weekend. It's family weekend.” Mia pointed at her and crossed her arms. Kamilah rolled her eyes impatiently. “It's just Karen, about some contracts that we'll close at the end of the month. That's important, Mia.” Kamilah said, Mia could feel some of her authoritative voice, she knew that voice. It was the way she talked to her employees at work. "Family weekend, Kamilah." Mia insisted, making Kamilah put her cell phone in her pants pocket.

Kamilah spent most of the night meeting Mia's uncles and aunts, cousins, which luckily for her, she ended up liking Mia's parents, but for her, the best person in the whole house was Mia´s grandmother, eighty years old, but she could still make Mia smile like no one else. Kamilah eventually discovered how perfect the wine was for the occasion. It made it so much simpler and easier to deal with her wife's relatives and their stupid questions. Alcohol was always the best solution, she couldn't get drunk, but Mia could. She noticed how many beers her wife had had, and how sleepy that made her. “Wow, is that mercedes out there yours, Kamilah?” One of Mia's teenage cousins said with wide eyes and a silly smile on his face. "Do you think you can let me drive any day?" "Absolutely not, you idiot." Mia said "So, Kamilah." Theresa said smiling at the table. “Mia mentioned to us that you work at a finance company.” "Yes, I work." Kamilah said shaking a glass of wine in her hands. "She's a workaholic," Mia said with a smile. "Always busy." "What do you do over there?" Bill asked curiously. "Uh... Kamilah actually owns the company." Mia admitted with her eyes on the dinner table sheets, her cheeks burning. “She has numerous offices spread across several capitals.” "So you're fucking rich," one of Mia´s cousins said. "Oh, shut up Ricky" Mia hid her face on the table. “Yes, I am.” Kamilah shrugged. “Damn, Mia. Hot and rich, you have style. ” "Oh, god." Mia rolled her eyes. “So, you have thirty years old. Wow. So young and with an empire in your hands. And to think that my own daughter can't even do the laundry by herself.” Theresa said. "Mom!" "And your parents? Mia told us that you were born in Egypt. I bet Mia loved meeting them.” "Uh..." Mia looked at Kamilah not knowing what to say. “She didn't know them. They died a long time ago, it used to be just me and my brother, but he also passed away.” Kamilah said truthfully.

"I'm sorry, my dear." Mia's grandmother said at the end of the table. "It's alright. It's been a long time.” Kamilah said shrugging, at that moment, she felt Mia's warm hand on top of hers, stroking her hand lightly, she looked at the girl with furrowed brows, the girl's dimpled smile somehow it was comforting. While Kamilah listened to some of Mia's uncles who were suddenly interested enough to want to handle their own finances, Mia got up to pick up the dishes and help her mother in the kitchen. As Theresa washed the dishes, she dried them, silently watching Kamilah talk to her grandmother. "I like her very much." Theresa suddenly said too close to the girl. "Jesus, Mom." Mia touched her chest, startled at the sudden approach. "Just saying. I like her very much.” She shrugged. "She's beautiful, smart, elegant and very polite." She smiled. Mia gave her a shy smile. "You like her too." "Me?! No! ” Mia stammered, but seeing the strange look her mother shot her, she finally came to her senses. “O-Of course I like it! She is my wife after all, right? I… I love her,” Mia stammered red. The last words still hot in her mouth, saying that out loud made her even more confused, couldn't tell if it was a lie or a truth in disguise.

“I saw the way you look at each other. I'm just saying, I recognize love when I see him.” Theresa said with a smile, touching her daughter's cheek. "I'm glad you found someone who loves you, who will take care of you, my dear." Yeah… thanks, mom.” Mia returned her smile, unable to tell her mother of her forced marriage, that Kamilah didn't love her, and probably never would, that behind it all, Adrian was suffering so much as both of them. Her eyes turned to the window, watching Kamilah engaged in conversation with her grandmother, a smile forming on her face. She left the kitchen and approached them, sitting next to Kamilah. "What are you two talking about?" She asked with a smile on her face. “Mia, did you know that your grandmother served as nurse at the WWII?” Kamilah looked at Mia, she was different, had a sparkle in her brown eyes and a smile… A beautiful smile on her face. Mia silently admired Kamilah's animated face, she looked happy. "Of course! Nana always had great stories to tell about it.” Mia said smiling. “It was a difficult time for all of us, I was so young at the time.” She smiled fondly at her granddaughter, her green eyes sparkling. “I was telling, dear Kamilah, from my days when I helped the wounded soldiers coming to the hospital. Your grandfather, as you well know, was one of them. When I met him, I fell madly in love, Benjamin was as charming as troublemaker.” She laughed, her eyes far away remembering her days. "We promised each other to always be faithful, and that our love will last for the rest of our lives." “It's a beautiful feeling.” Kamilah smiled slightly. “You don't know how happy I am to know you found love, honey.” Mia felt the tightness in her chest and her throat dry again. “Now, you're married and in love, finally, I can give you my wedding gift...” She reached from under the woolen blanket, two golden bracelets with a small pendant of halves of a heart that completed each other. "Your grandfather and I used to use it, in fact, it was his first gift to me." She laughed.

Mia's eyes filled with tears as she saw the present. Kamilah stared at him, unsure of what to say, the CEO didn't know how to respond to a gesture of love as unexpected as that. “When you both wear it, never forget that your love can be overcome anything.” Kamilah took the bracelets, hesitant. “Thanks so much, Nana.” Mia wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “We appreciate the gift and we will take care of it”. Kamilah touched her hand. Mia sighed and excused herself, her head was full of things. She needed some time alone. She grabbed her beer as she walked out the front door, she was greeted by the cold and snowflakes falling from the sky, forming a large white carpet across the street. Kamilah's mercedes had some snowflakes on the car's glass, Mia leaned against the vehicle and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Trying to warm up in that useless leather jacket, it wasn't working.

She noticed a new message. Adrian. Her heart skipped a beat at the message.

“I miss you, I think about you every day. Call me as soon as you can, I love you.” 

She read that with anguish in her chest, as she was about to answer the message, Kamilah came through the door.

"You're doing a terrible job getting out here and leaving me alone with your relatives." Kamilah said standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, attracting a smile from the girl, who put the phone in her pocket. "I needed some air." Mia smiled. Kamilah approached the girl. "You're freezing, you'll catch a cold." Kamilah said noticing Mia's red nose and skin. Kamilah took off her overcoat and wrapped Mia around it, pressing it against the girl's body. It was so warm and had Kamilah´s amazing perfume on it.

“You're very sweet, you know that?” Mia frowned, a playful smile on her face. “I don't want you to be sick. Medicines are expensive.” Kamilah shrugged, drawing a laugh from Mia. “And you already give me enough expense.” Mia held back a laugh looking at Kamilah. “Sorry about my relatives. I know they can be a bit intense, but they have good intentions.” Mia said awkwardly. "That´s alright. I enjoyed it, it was different.” Kamilah half-smiled with a frown. “It's been a long time since I've done anything, but work. Thank you for making me leave home to meet your family.” Kamilah said quietly enough that Mia could hear, attracting a smile from the girl. "So you liked it." She said smiling. “Don't push it.” Kamilah scowled, but noticing the captivating smile on the girl's lips, she smiled back. "You're impossible, did you know that?"

“That's why you like me.” Mia gave her a wide smile in response. Kamilah rolled her eyes with a smile at the corner of her lips. “And yet, daring." She said softly, Mia laughed at those words. She barely realized how close she was to the CEO, the cold air coming out of her breath  and the warmth that Kamilah emanated from her body. Kamilah was the one to take the first step, her warm, delicate hand touching her cheeks, sending a shiver up Mia's spine. The mesmerizing brown eyes burned the girl's green eyes, that attraction had come back even stronger. “What am I going to do with you?” Kamilah asked softly.

"What do you want?" Mia asked, lost in those beautiful eyes. "So many things I shouldn't." Kamilah said staring at the girl's lips, moving close enough to break the distance between them, Mia longed to kiss that damn mouth again, so much that she felt her whole body begging for it. But before she could even kiss Kamilah's mouth, the CEO's cell phone vibrated in her pants pocket, preventing them from sticking together. Kamilah stepped back, as did Mia, as if regaining their senses. "I should answer that, forgive me." Kamilah said taking the phone from her pocket. "Alright." Mia waved her hand dismissively. Her face red enough, her eyes glued to the floor. Kamilah nodded and walked away. "What is Karen?" She said as she returned to the house. “Don't be out here too long.” Kamilah looked over her shoulder and Mia nodded. When Kamilah walked through the door, she let out a huge amount of air she barely knew she was holding. “Fuck. What am I doing? ” She asked herself in agony, running a hand through her hair.

One week later

"A gala?" Lily asked excitedly sitting in one of the leather chairs, waiting for Mia to come out of the dressing room with her dress. the vampire geek's mission was supposed to help her best friend find the perfect dress for the gala, but she was too busy chattering excitedly about the event. “Hell yes! You raised your level too fast, Mia. I loved it!" Mia rolled her eyes with a smile on her face as she straightened the dress over her body.

"It's the least I can do for her, Kamilah went to Michigan to visit my parents and meet them." She said as she tried to unzip herself. “This gala is very important to her company, and it's our first appearance together as a couple before the media.”

"She seemed to have enjoyed meeting your parents, from what you told me," Lily said. “I told you, Kamilah's thick wall is just something shallow, inside, she has a good heart.”

“I… I know that. But, I felt horrible lying to my family about us. They really believe we are living the biggest love story,” Mia said, upset. "Maybe you are and don't even know." "Oh shut up." "I'm serious!" "But things are so difficult, you know?" Mia emerged from the dressing room, a designer waiting for her with Lily, who hurried to help with the dress. “There's all this tension between us, when I'm by her side it feels like my whole body starts to catch fire and burn… But then I remember Adrian, I remember everything we went through together, how much I love him. And I feel horrible.” A broad smile appeared on Lily's face, Mia rolled her eyes already predicting her best friend's next words. "You're divided between the two." Lily crossed her arms. "I'm not!" "Of course yes! The two are practically fighting for your attention, you just don't see it because you don't want to, I bet Kamilah is already falling for you.” “Stop, Lily! She's not ok? Kamilah and I live together out of obligation, she endures me, just that. There is no feeling between us, no love, affection, nothing.” Mia said sadly.

"Alright, alright." Lily raised her arms in surrender, sighing. “Well, can I at least tell you how hot you look in that dress? Kamilah and Adrian will drool when they see you tonight.” Lily looked her up and down with a smug smile on her face, making Mia's cheeks flush.

Kamilah´s pov

Kamilah silently admired her from across the room, she was different. Maybe it was about the punctuality she showed up at the exact moment they agreed, or the stunning dress that valued every part of that unexplored body, or the bright dimpled smile on her face as she chatted with guests. The perfect wife. It was almost ironic to think that a few months ago Mia would do anything to embarrass her to potential investors, her executives, everyone. But now... She was there, laughing gracefully and talking, the way she dealt perfectly with the sudden questions from reporters that approached both of them as soon as they arrived at the event was unexpected, taking Kamilah by surprise. She was a box of surprises. “She's gorgeous, Kamilah. Congratulations on the wedding.” One of her executives touched her shoulder, both of them at the bar, surrounded by executives of her company. Kamilah was looking at her from across the room, too distracted with her eyes on her wife than paying attention to the conversation. 

“Oh, thank you.” Kamilah smiled appreciatively at the comment, but the smile on her face faded the moment her eyes spotted Adrian approaching Mia, Kamilah narrowed her eyes, suspicion beginning to surface in her mind. At first it was just a few minutes of conversation until Adrian reached for her and tilted his head to the dance floor. Mia looked around hesitantly, but finally nodded and took his hand.

Kamilah's jaw clenched, her chest began to burn, she tried to control herself, the red blood wanting to manifest in her eyes and her fangs begging to appear, a feeling until recently unknown to her, beginning to emerge. Jealousy. She would never admit to herself or Mia, but to see her wife dancing with her old boyfriend, laughing in his arms, and too close... It was revolting. The grip of her fingers on her glass made him crack, and the sound of the glass caught her attention, she needed to compose herself. She was in a public environment, and her anger at the scene before her made her forget it. The mask of perfect indifference returned on her face, watching them dance. Her attention returned to her executives, and she kept her for the brief twenty minutes, but it was long enough for Adrian and Mia to let go of her line of sight on the dance floor. Seeing that they were no longer there, the anger had returned, stronger than before. Kamilah excused herself and went looking for Mia around the room, she wasn't anywhere. But after ten minutes of unsuccessfully searching for her, the CEO had found her on the balcony of the building, Mia and Adrian talking quietly. She stopped and watched them in the shadows.

"...You know, these days I was remembering the dinner we had at my restaurant " Adrian said with a smile on his face, holding the girl's hand. Mia laughed softly. "It was a wonderful dinner, I miss eating at your restaurant," she said. "You know you can go anytime you want, don't you?" He said approaching. "I miss it, I miss our moments together, our conversations, touching you..." He said with sad, vacant eyes, his hand lightly touching the girl's face. "Adrian..." Mia said hesitantly, the girl looked disturbed. “I know you miss me too, our nights, our love. I can see it in your eyes, Mia.” He moved closer with his eyes on the girl's lips. They were both inches from each other, Mia didn't move away, nor did she try to push him away, and that was enough for Kamilah.

"I've seen enough," she said in the shadows, drawing their attention. Mia gave a startled jump back, and Adrian stepped away, but didn't let go of the girl's hand. “I turn my back for a minute and are you ready to cheat on me with my best friend, Miranda?” She stepped out of the shadows, her eyes red, fangs showing from the red lipstick of her lips. Mia looked speechless, her face red, her heart racing. "Nothing happened, Kamilah." Adrian said through his teeth. "I'm not talking to you." Kamilah said with her eyes turned to Mia. "Let's go. Now.” She said with the authoritative voice coming back. “She´s not going anywhere. You can't talk to her like that, Kamilah!” Adrian said, his eyes going red too. "She will." Kamilah approached. “We're going home, Miranda. Let's go." Mia was looking between them, both staring at each other, ready for anything to come, the apprehension evident in the girl's face. "I'm going, Adrian!" She said after she couldn't take the tension between them anymore. Adrian opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “You two are not going to fight here, we are in a public environment and it will be horrible for both company's image. I'm going home with Kamilah.” Kamilah was the first to turn her back and walk away, Mia hurried to follow her.

As the elevator doors opened, giving way to a Kamilah who immediately headed for the bar, the only thing on the CEO's mind was to drink a big sip of whiskey at that moment. She needed to get it out of her head, that damn girl out of her mind, she almost ruined everything, her image and the image of her company because of a girl. A mortal. She was angry, angry with herself for letting it happen and things got to that point. Angry with Adrian for letting his feelings blind him, leaving him ready to betray her confidence... And with Mia, for simply existing. Kamilah filled her glass with that amber liquid and turned in one gulp, refilling again.

"Now that we get home, could you explain..." Mia said behind her back. "WHAT IN HELL WAS THAT KAMILAH?" She shouted angrily. Kamilah's eyes glittered with hatred.

“Explain?” Kamilah turned to see her. “I believe you owe me explanations, Miranda. Since you were so ready to betray me.”

"Nothing happened!" The blonde approached her, confident enough to face her. “We were just talking! If I hadn't stopped you two right there, god only knows  what would have happened! Did you forget that it was the image of your company that was at risk ?!” Kamilah laughed, a sharp, mean laugh that made the hair on her arm lift.

“Don't mean to mind my company, Miranda. Because I know you don't care, you give a damn about this marriage, you're just a child!” Kamilah raised her voice, but Mia didn't back down.

"Oh fuck you!" Mia shouted. “I care, I care about you, and I care about your stupid company! Why would I bother to go there with you if I didn't mind ?!” She screamed, pointing a finger at Kamilah. “And you told me right at the beginning of all this shit that it was just a contract marriage, and you didn't care who I slept with!” Tears began to well up in her eyes, threatening to fall on her cheeks. “Adrian was the exception!” Kamilah shouted. "I believe we are both liars, then." “It's none of your business who I sleep with, Kamilah!” Kamilah approached her enough.

“It's my business. You are my wife! You are mine and  I am ours! ” “I'm not your property and don't even think of treating me like one!” Her green eyes sparkled with anger, the girl seemed about to jump on the CEO's neck, even though she knew it would go terribly wrong. She turned her back and walked away.

“Where do you think you're going ?!” Kamilah shouted as she walked away. "What do you think?! I'm going out!” “Do it, get out. You're great at doing this!” Kamilah hurled her glass against the wall, making Mia shudder.

"Are you crazy ?!" Mia shouted angrily. The elevator doors opened, Mia threatened to enter, when Kamilah spoke.

"Miranda, if you get in that elevator... Don't  even think about coming home anymore." Kamilah said, standing in front of her, the anger, the tension and the hurt between them. Mia looked into those red eyes one last time before entering the elevator.

...

24 hours had passed, 24 hours with no call, no message. Nothing from her. Maybe she really had taken all this talk seriously and would never come back, as Kamilah had told her never to return. Somehow the idea of the girl not coming home anymore... It hurt her. The CEO went back to her company to work, the idea of burying herself in a mountain of paperwork might help, distract her and take her mind off events. The comforting thought that maybe when she came home, Mia was there invaded her mind. 

After midnight, when Kamilah decided to return home, she found the penthouse empty. Mia wasn't there, to her disappointment. Kamilah took off her overcoat and left it on the couch, as well as her bag, followed by the heels and went to her bar. She filled a glass of wine, followed by another sip, and minutes later she had finished a bottle. Not getting drunk had its advantages. Sitting in an armchair in the living room, a glass in her hand, her hair usually neat, untidy from the way she ran her hand, her social shirt with a few buttons open, she twirled the gold band in her fingers. Looking closely at the ring. Her attention drifted to the elevator as the doors opened revealing Mia. Her eyes lit up at the sight. She no longer wore her dress, but a leather jacket and jeans. Her eyes met of the CEO, who rose from the chair. Mia ignored her and continued walking around the house. "Look who arrived... The perfect wife." Kamilah grunted looking at her. "I thought I told you never to come back here." She set the glass of wine. "Oh, fuck you." Mia snapped. “This is still my home whether you like it or not, and I just came to get some clothes.” She headed for the hallway intending to go to the bedroom, but Kamilah blocked her way. "Kamilah, get out of my way," she said wearily, crossing her arms. “No.” Kamilah frowned. "You and I have to talk." "We've talked enough already." Mia sighed turning to the kitchen. “I won't argue with you about anything else, about us or about Adrian or whatever. I got tired of it. ” "Oh, did you get tired?" Kamilah said approaching. “Kamilah, don't start.” Mia shook her head.

“You were the first one to start, you can't do that, you can't decide to leave like this and come back when you want!” “You sent me away!” Mia shouted back, Kamilah laughed at that. "You left because you wanted to!" She said approaching the girl, looking at those furious green eyes. "I got tired! I got tired of it all! I'm tired of you acting like you don't care, you're a hypocrite Kamilah, you act like you don't give a damn about me, but you fight with me when Adrian and I are together, I don't understand you! ” Mia shouted with tears in her eyes, rubbing her hand over her blond hair. “Am I the hypocrite ?!” Kamilah brought her face close to hers. "You are!" Mia shouted angrily, but her frown broke when she realized how close they were. “And don't even think…!” Before Mia could finish her sentence, Kamilah kissed her, crashing her lips together, both CEO's hands on the girl's cheeks, Mia started slapping her chest trying to push her away, useless seconds... until she surrendered to the kiss. Surrendering to that feeling that neither of them was ready to assume.

Kamilah pulled away after seconds, looking straight into the girl's green eyes, she noticed how red Mia's face was. Mia was gasping for surprise and shock. "Oh fuck it" Mia said breathlessy, pulling Kamilah by the shirt collar again, starting a slow, wet kiss. Her fingers tangled in Kamilah's hair, she nibbled on Kamilah's lower lip making a moan escape from the CEO, taking advantage to invade her mouth with her tongue. Kamilah was damn good kisser... Mia could tell, her tongue and Mia's curled together, the CEO's scent inhibited the girl's senses, suddenly that connection was back, that heat, she felt the room swirl around her.  

Kamilah's hands come down to her waist, and scooped her up easily, her legs pressed against the CEO's hip, which sat her on the sink.Mia's hands shook, as she began to unbutton Kamilah's shirt. Kamilah parted her lips from hers briefly. The panting girl looked into those brown eyes that burned with desire.

“Are you sure?” Kamilah whispered against her lips. Mia answered that by kissing her again, a warm, passionate kiss, the CEO took that as a yes.

[artificialqueens]

Undone, Chapter 24 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 24 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters. If you’re sticking with us despite the long breaks between chapters, then you’re wonderful and I adore you. Thank you so much to our beta readers, @kitschypixel , @jimvssherlock , and @missdandee <3 <3 <3

Summary: Relationships are tricky.

TW: Discussions of emotional abuse, PTSD

***

When Courtney’s alarm begins to go off, ripping her from a deep and peaceful sleep, it feels almost violent. She jolts awake, fumbling for the phone, eyes widening when she sees the time. She’d somehow fucked up and set the alarm an hour later than she meant to.

“Shit!” She jumps from the bed, the suddenness of leaving the warm covers and cocoon of body heat like being hit with cold water. She rouses Bianca, as gently as possible given the situation.

“Nooo, it’s too early,” Bianca groans into her pillow.

“It’s 5:15,” Courtney tells her apologetically.

Bianca’s eyes fly open. “Motherfucker.”

“I know, I’m sorry. We’ll still make it if we rush. I’ll take care of the dogs!” Courtney calls back over her shoulder, taking off running towards the kitchen.

***

Courtney’s not sure how to navigate the work situation. Will Bianca want to keep everything under wraps? She’s not officially divorced yet, after all. It seems a little insane that with all their endless discussions about everything under the sun, that hasn’t come up. And  the hectic rush to get to set on time this morning stopped her from asking.

So in the lunch line, when Adore asks her why she looks so happy, she keeps her mouth firmly shut.

“Come on, tell me. Did something finally happen with B? Did you guys bang?” Adore’s eyes glitter with mischief.

“We did not,” Courtney says emphatically.

“Okay well...but you banged someone, right? Did you get laid while she was out of town? Is it someone I know? I won’t tell, promise.”

Courtney rolls her eyes and shakes her head. When she sees Bianca walking over, her eyes light up, destroying her attempt to play it cool.

“Come on,” Adore says, a grin spreading across her face. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Courtney insists, then turns to Bianca with a sheepish smile. “Hey...how’s it going?” She shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other, arms wrapped around herself.

It takes Bianca a moment to catch on, looking from Courtney’s uncomfortable expression to Adore’s curious grin. It didn’t occur to her before that Courtney wouldn’t tell Adore, but she assumes that it’s because of her. In spite of everything that happened between them, Courtney’s still clearly unsure where she stands.

But Bianca has no desire for Courtney to be some dirty little secret. So she steps closer, cupping Courtney’s face with her hands.

“It’s going great. How are you?”

Bianca doesn’t notice the mouths of their coworkers dropping open in surprise. She just watches Courtney’s face, her green eyes wide.

“I’m...really good.” Courtney’s breathing is shallow, heart racing as her hands find Bianca’s waist.

“That’s good,” she murmurs, then presses a kiss to Courtney’s lips, soft and deep.

“You fuckin’ liar!” Adore says, clapping her hands gleefully.

They part, giggling a little, and Bianca knows that she’s making a spectacle, that there must be a whole bunch of eyes on them, but she can’t bring herself to feel anything but elation.

“I didn’t think you’d want people to know,” Courtney whispers, pressing her forehead to Bianca’s.

“Well, I do. I want everyone to know,” Bianca replies. Dimples are deep in her cheeks, and Courtney reaches a hand up to touch one, giddy with happiness.

Bianca kisses her again, deeper this time.

“Okay, it was cute at first but now it’s just...gross.” Adore’s nose wrinkles and she grabs a plate, finally up to the front of the buffet line. “Guys?”

Feeling a bit light-headed, Courtney nuzzles her face into Bianca’s neck, gripping her waist.

“Oh my god, stop,” Adore says. “You’re holding up the line. Look alive!”

“Alright already,” Bianca laughs, finally lifting her head and taking a plate with a happy sigh.

***

Courtney places the dogs’ bowls on the ground and then stands up, brushing her hands off, to find Bianca’s eyes on her. A faint blush rises to her cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Bianca reaches for her, taking her hand. “I’m just...glad to have you alone. Finally.”

Courtney takes a deep breath as Bianca wraps her into an embrace, gazing at her with heavy-lidded blue eyes.

“Yeah. It’s pretty fantas…” Courtney trails off as Bianca’s plush lips graze her neck. She gives herself a moment to enjoy it. Several moments, if she’s honest--long enough to feel Bianca’s soft hands sliding up under her top. Her eyes have fallen closed, stomach twisting with desire, before she catches herself and clears her throat. “Uh...B?”

“Mmmh?”

“I just want to make sure that we, uh...manage our expectations here.”

Bianca lifts her head, a puzzled look on her face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything’s fine. Everything’s great, actually, but...I have my period.”

“Okay?”

“So...I think we should maybe...hold off for now.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be squeamish about that,” Bianca teases gently.

“Well...I’m not. But...it’s a little hard core for a first time...I mean, sort of.” Courtney bites her lip, trying not to think about how this wouldn’t actually be their first time.

“Okay.” Bianca takes a deep breath. She’s ready to claw down the curtains, but she doesn’t want to make Courtney feel bad. “Yeah, if you’re not comfortable, then-”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”

“No, I get it. Sorry if I seemed too-”

“It’s okay. I just...want things to be…”

“I know.”

Courtney swallows, lacing her fingers into Bianca’s.

“I care about you so much, B.”

“Me too.” Bianca places a gentle kiss on her cheek, but her mind is racing. She cares? What happened to love? Why are we backtracking? Calm down, calm down, she probably means it in a good way.

***

Later, when Bianca slides into bed, she’s still feeling a bit unsure of where they stand. Her insecurity is alleviated when Courtney snuggles into her, pulling Bianca’s arms around her from behind and sighing deeply. She seems content and happy and it has an immediate calming effect on Bianca’s nerves.  

Bianca buries her face into Courtney’s hair, breathing in deeply, moving some of the wavy tresses aside to kiss her neck. Her arms tighten around Courtney’s slender body, pulling her impossibly close as her lips continue to trace patterns on her neck and shoulder.

“B-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go near your...bathing suit area,” Bianca promises.

“My what?”

“You know, your...downstairs.”

Courtney flips around, puzzled amusement contorting her features.

“Downstairs?” she asks skeptically.

“What...what do you call it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Pussy?” Courtney says, and Bianca grimaces. “Or cunt.”

Bianca’s brow furrows deeper, letting out a disgusted, “Ughh!”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to adopt ‘downstairs,’” Courtney laughs.

“Fine, but do we have to be so…” Bianca’s nose wrinkles.

“Do you have any other suggestions?”

After a brief pause, Bianca offers up an angelic smile, dimples deep, and then asks, “Hoo-ha?”

“Absolutely fucking not!” Courtney shrieks, still laughing.

“Sorry. I guess I was brought up to be a little…”

“Repressed?”

“I was gonna say ‘ladylike,’” Bianca corrects her.

“Oh yeah. That’s you. Delicate as fuck.” Courtney grins.

“Listen…”

“Yes?”

“...I have nothing. You win. We’ll call it whatever you want.”

Courtney giggles again, snuggling close and murmuring, “I love you…”

Bianca runs a hand through her hair, smiling to herself as she whispers back, “I love you more.”

***

“How are you feeling today?” Bob asks, as Bianca settles down onto the sofa.

“I’m feeling...great, actually.” A smile pulls at Bianca’s lips. “I’ve had a good week.”

“That’s wonderful. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yeah, um.” Bianca pauses, letting the happiness sink in a little before she continues. She’s almost bursting at the seams, anxious to share her news, but at the same time, she feels protective about it - pure joy has been so rare for her lately. Maybe dissecting it in therapy isn’t the best idea.

“You were going home for the weekend, for a wedding. Did you enjoy that?”

“Oh! Yeah, that was great. Um, super fun, and...uh, yeah. It was really nice to see everyone. And I got to eat a lot of fried shit, which was very exciting.”

“Sounds fabulous,” Bob laughs.

“And then...when I got home…” Bianca glances out the window, that secret smile making her dimples appear. “Things finally happened with Courtney. Like...for real.” She turns back to Bob, biting her lip.

“Wow. That’s something you’ve been anticipating for a long time.”

“Tell me about it,” Bianca giggles. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

“And has it been what you expected? So far?”

“Well, it’s only been a few days, but...I feel like it’s even better than I expected. She’s just so...warm. And kind. And beautiful. I just keep looking at her wondering how I go so lucky.” Bianca’s cheeks have begun to heat up a little, embarrassed at how much she’s gushing.

Bob smiles and makes a quick note.

“Have you had any challenges?”

“Uh, no. She’s perfect.” Bianca laughs again,

“Courtney’s perfect...noted,” Bob says, eyebrow arched.

“No, I know that nobody is perfect. I mean...she’s really messy and kinda disorganized.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Well...it’s kind of cute, actually.” Bianca giggles. “But you know what, get back to me in a few weeks.”

Bob chuckles and folds her hands.

“Fair enough. Let’s put a pin in that for now. What about you? We already know that you’re not perfect.”

“Thanks, doc,” Bianca scoffs.

“I think you know what I mean. You’ve been dealing with a lot of heavy stuff and hormones on top of everything. It would be normal to be sensitive, edgy, anxious, moody. So how are you, overall?”

“I’m great. I’m...I haven’t been happy like this in...I don’t know. Maybe ever. I’m just trying to enjoy it.”

“And you should.” Bob makes another note. “Listen, I’m not trying to invent problems for you that don’t exist. I just want to make sure you’re checking in with yourself enough. Sometimes, when we’re in this kind of honeymoon stage, we can ignore our needs because they don’t feel as pressing.”

“I don’t know if ‘honeymoon’ is the right description,” Bianca says with a chuckle.  

“What do you mean?”

“Oh.” Bianca shook her head. “I was kinda kidding. Just because...well, we haven’t slept together yet. I mean, we’ve slept in the same bed, but just not...”

“Got it.”

“And, you know, it’s fine, it’s just that I’ve been like...extremely hard-up, if you catch my drift. People warned me that it would happen at this point in my pregnancy, so I’m not really surprised. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that she’s smoking hot. So yeah.” Bianca sighs.

“So...a problem? Not a problem?”

“No, I’m fine with waiting. She hasn’t been ready, so…and I’m trying not to take it personally, because like, there’s a little voice in my head saying that she’s just not into me like that right now. Or maybe just like, even the idea of me being pregnant is weird for her; my body is different and that’s...I don’t know. I’m not too worried,” Bianca insists, aware that she’s begun babbling.

Reel it back in. Come on.

Bianca smiles brightly before continuing, determined not to be the douchebag whining about her girlfriend not putting out.

“I’m sure it’ll happen soon. And if not, I’ll just continue my monogamous relationship with the shower massager,” Bianca finishes with a smirk, pleased with herself for injecting some humor into the situation, especially when Bob laughs.

“You know,” Bob says, folding her hands. “...there could be a lot of reasons that she’s not ready. Have you talked to her about it?”

“No! No, I don’t want to make a big out of it. And she’s had like...reasons, so. I think it’s just that I’m fully ready to jump through fire to be with her. So anything she says feels like kind of a weak excuse. Which is my problem, not hers.”

“Maybe she doesn’t take sex lightly?”

Bianca raises her eyebrows, giving a look of such dismissive disdain to this suggestion that Bob chuckles.

“Okay, well, maybe she’s not taking sex with you lightly.”

“Right. Maybe. But...it’s not like this would be our first time. And I mean, anything would be better than that.”

“You’ve had sex with her before?” Bob looks puzzled.

“Yeah. Back when...a few months ago. We’d been drinking a lot, and things got a little...uh...complicated.”

“A few months ago, you were still with Jared, correct?”

Bianca shifts a little.

“Yeah. Uh...he was there too.”

“I see.”

“Jared always had kind of a...he knew I liked girls, and he liked...watching it. So when he saw us together, I guess he got it in his head that it would be...um, I dunno exactly what he was thinking. But he convinced her to come home with us.”

“And...what happened when she went home with you?”

“You want details? Wow, Bob, didn’t take you for the kinky type.”

Bob rolls her eyes slightly, and Bianca sighs.

“Well, the truth is, I don’t remember much. I know we were together, but it was kind of hard to focus on that, because seeing her with Jared was so-” Bianca cringes, clearing her throat.

“She was with Jared?”

“Yeah.” Bianca closes her eyes. “She didn’t really want to, but he kind of...insisted.”

“Insisted?” Bob’s head tilts, concerned. “Did Jared assault her?”

“No! No, that’s not...I mean…” Bianca’s palms start to itch, pulse quickening.

“Okay. So after this...let’s just say ‘coerced’ sex with your husband...what happened? Did you discuss it?”

Bianca shook her head, blood rushing to her ears.

“No. She tried, but I...I couldn’t...oh, shit.” A small whimper escapes her throat as she realizes the gravity of her selfishness. “God, I’m such an asshole.” A choked sob follows, the walls of the room closing in on her. Her knuckles are white, fingers gripping a throw pillow for dear life.

“Bianca...look at me. Take a deep breath, okay?”

Bianca lifts her eyes, cloudy with tears, and follows Bob’s gentle instructions until her breathing returns to normal.

Bob pulls her planner off the table and flips it open, clearing her throat.

“I think we better schedule a session with both of you. Sooner the better.”

Bianca nods, dread washing over her like a wave.

***

“Okay, I made two trays of it. Yours has real cheese, and they both have tofu for added protein...what do you think?” Courtney displays the lasagna proudly.

It looks and smells delicious, and despite Bianca’s nerves doing a number on her stomach, she realizes that she’s actually insanely hungry. She can’t believe how quickly Courtney’s mastered Italian food, simply because she said it was her favorite. She silently adds it to the endless list of reasons to love her.

“It looks fantastic. And I’m starving; I can’t wait to try it.”

Courtney smiles and begins to dish out portions.

“Oh shit, it’s really hot. Um, if you’re hungry, you can start on the salad? And there’s some leftover chicken if you want to add that. You know, protein boost.” As usual, Courtney’s biggest concern is making sure that Bianca has everything she needs at all times.

“Thanks. I’m okay, I can wait a minute.”

“I don’t want you to suffer,” Courtney says, and Bianca lets out a soft chuckle.

“Careful, your halo is showing.”

Courtney laughs and gives Bianca a wink as she carries the plates to the table.

“Well, you know me. I love to show off.”  

“Yeah,” Bianca approaches her at the table, wrapping her hands around her waist. “Thank you for making dinner. It looks great.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s lips ghost against hers, breath warm and gentle.

“Mmhmm. You’re a dream.”

“Good dream or bad dream?” Courtney asks somberly, and Bianca pretends to think.

“Ummm...I guess we’ll find out, huh?”

“I thought you were hungry.” Courtney’s fingers play with her hair.

“I am, but I need to ask you...um…do you have any plans tomorrow, after work?” Bianca’s stomach twists uncomfortably.

“Plans without you?” Courtney shakes her head, amused, as if this is too ridiculous an idea to contemplate. “No, why?”

“Well...um, Bob thinks it would be good to do a session with both of us. I mean, if that’s okay with you.” Bianca waits for an answer, chest tight.

“Of course, B.” Courtney presses a kiss against her temple. “Anything you need.”

***

Courtney’s not sure what to expect. Her experience with therapy before now has been pretty minimal, and from what Bianca’s told her, it’s hard to imagine what Bob will be like. The first thing she notices (besides Bob’s height, as she towers over both of them) is her voice. It’s sharp and a bit sardonic--she’s obviously witty, which explains why Bianca likes her--but when she addresses Bianca, her tone gets almost tender, and immediately puts Courtney at ease.

She settles beside Bianca on the sofa, some of her nerves dissipating, open to whatever Bob thinks she needs to hear in order to support Bianca through this journey.

“Hi Courtney. Thanks for coming in.”

“No problem. I know that B’s been through a really rough time, so anything that I can do to help…”

Courtney rests a hand on Bianca’s thigh, and the warmth of the simple gesture immediately makes Bianca feel secure, combatting the uneasiness she’s been feeling all day.

“So, of course, last time you were here, Bianca, we discussed your evolving relationship. And how you’ve been feeling about it.”

“Yeah. It’s been great,” Bianca says, tucking a strand of hair behind Courtney’s ear.

“Totally great,” Courtney echoes, beaming back at her.  

“I expressed some concerns to Bianca that when you’re in a new relationship, it’s easy to be blinded by how good it feels. And when you’re healing, it’s important to take the time to think about the full picture.”

“I totally agree!” Courtney says. “That’s why we waited so long. I wanted to make sure that B was in a better place, and that it wasn’t just like, a rebound or...an escape.”

“I told you she was smart,” Bianca says, and Courtney leans against her shoulder.

“I just want to support you,” Courtney tells her. “I want you to feel safe, and loved, and...happy.”

“I do, baby,” Bianca whispers softly, into her hair.

“And what about you, Courtney?” Bob asks.

“Sorry?”

“Do you feel safe? Loved? Appreciated?”

“Definitely!” Courtney exclaims, grinning.

“That’s good. Because you know, this has to work both ways,” Bob tells her.

Courtney’s brow furrows slightly.

“I know that. But...sorry, I just thought we were here for B.” Courtney glances at her, then back at Bob. “I mean, you’re her therapist, right? Not mine?”

“That’s true. But if we’re talking about a relationship, it’s probably better to think of me as a kind of impartial sounding board.”

“Okay…” Courtney looks at Bianca again. “Is everything okay? I mean...are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Bianca insists, the unsettled feeling in her chest blossoming into fear as her heart begins to race.

“Courtney, I want to assure that there are no ulterior motives here,” Bob says. “Bianca had nothing but lovely, positive things to say about you. And from what I can tell, everything she said is true. So...no, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Courtney relaxes a little bit, leaning back against the cushions and nodding.

“That said, she did tell me something that I found troubling.” Bob looks at Bianca questioningly. “Do you want to tell Courtney why I asked you to bring her?”

Bianca swallows what feels like a mouthful of sawdust. Anxiety gnaws at her stomach. “Umm...I don’t really know where to…” She trails off, avoiding Courtney’s eyes, that look of panic that’s bound to be all over her face.  

“Okay, well, we were talking about physical intimacy,” Bob says, trying to guide Bianca along.

“Yeah. Um...I guess I mentioned that we’d had that...thing. Earlier this summer.” Bianca bites her lip.

“Oh…” Courtney’s chest tightens a bit. She’s been trying her best not to think about that night. That evening on the beach, when Bianca had confessed to her - that was all she needed to hear, really. She’d been overcome with relief that there was a logical explanation for Bianca’s behavior, that Bianca really did care about her. But she’d also been so concerned with Bianca’s well-being that any unresolved feelings of her own seemed unimportant. She’s thought about bringing it up again at some point, but it hasn’t ever felt like the right time.

“Courtney, I don’t want Bianca’s description to influence you too much here. But she did mention that you hadn’t really discussed it much. So I’m interested in hearing your perspective about that night.” Bob’s tone is light, but there’s a weight behind it that makes Courtney even more nervous.

“What exactly do you want to know?” Courtney looks skeptical, withdrawing into herself. Rehashing that night is the last thing she wants to do right now.

“Not about physical details. But just, emotionally. What was that like for you?” Bob clarifies.

“You mean, at the time? Or later?”

“Why don’t we start with how it felt in the moment?”

Courtney glances at Bianca, biting her lip.

“Are you sure you want us to talk about this? I thought we’d moved past it.”

“Yeah, I think...there might be some things that we didn’t really…” Bianca’s breath hitches. “You should answer.”

Courtney turns back to Bob, taking a deep breath.

“Okay, well...it was...great, mostly. I mean, the truth is that even though I didn’t like to admit it, I’ve wanted her since the moment we met.”

In spite of her anxiety, Bianca feels a small smile pulling at her mouth. Courtney’s never said that out loud, and hearing it makes her melt a little. But she knows that there’s bound to be more coming, more that she’s probably not going to want to hear. She takes a deep breath and listens to Courtney continue.

“And so...yeah, being with her, that way, was...it was a million fantasies coming true.” Courtney looks down at her hands. “But...I guess it was also a little bit sad, because I thought maybe it would be our only chance. Because, you know, I didn’t really know much about her relationship with Jared. So I just assumed...that would be it.”

“What was your impression of Jared?” Bob asks her.

“Uh. I didn’t love him? But, I was also so jealous that I couldn’t really be trusted to make a fair judgment,” she admits.

“So, it’s safe to say that you weren’t attracted to him?”

“What?! No, of course not,” Courtney exclaims. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Bob looks at Bianca, who speaks up in a small voice.

“I told her that you didn’t want to do it, but he kind of...made you,” Bianca’s breath hitches.

“Is that a fair description, Courtney?” Bob asks. “Did you feel coerced in any way?”

Courtney whirls back towards her, blood racing.

“What exactly are you implying?!”

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be vague. It sounds like a sexual assault to me. Is that how it felt?”

“No! No, it didn’t.”

Bob makes a note, nodding, and Courtney’s heart races in her chest. What kind of shit is she trying to pull? Courtney feels desperate to defend herself.

“Was it my ideal scenario? No. But I weighed the pros and cons and I made a choice,” Courtney insists. “I’m not a victim here.”

“Why don’t you tell Courtney what we say about the word ‘victim’?” Bob says to Bianca.

“We say ‘survivor,’” Bianca answers, voice breaking, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Courtney looks at her. She seems like she’s in physical pain, knuckles white from gripping the pillow in her lap, brow furrowed and eyes dark and liquid. Seeing her face, Courtney is suddenly overcome with guilt.

“This isn’t what I agreed to,” Courtney says, shaking her head. She looks at Bob accusingly, anger rising to the surface. “I’m not here to make her feel bad; that’s not why I came.”

She moves closer to Bianca on the couch and puts a hand on her shoulder, trying her best to soothe her, ease her mind, as Bianca mumbles another tearful apology.

“I’m fine, B. You don’t need to apologize. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Bianca allows Courtney to take her hand, squeezing her fingers tightly. Bob watches, giving them a few moments to collect themselves before speaking again, in a gentle but decisive voice.

“Courtney, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to give you space for honest communication, alright?”

Courtney’s head snaps up. “Honest communication? That’s what you call this? This was an ambush!”

Bob closes her eyes and sighs.

“You know what, you’re right. I clearly didn’t approach this subject in the right way. I’m very sorry that you feel ambushed. That wasn’t the intention.”

Courtney folds her arms.

“Maybe I jumped to the wrong conclusions,” Bob continues. “Can you accept my apology?”

Courtney sighs, nodding.

“Do you want to clarify? Maybe, correct my assumptions?”

Courtney chews on her bottom lip, unsure exactly how to proceed, how much to admit to, then finally says, “I guess...I get why you thought...what you did. He was very determined. But I just...I don’t know how belaboring that will help Bianca. And that’s why we’re here, right?” Courtney takes Bianca’s hand again.

Bob pauses for a moment, considering her words carefully before speaking again.

“Let me describe what I’m seeing here. And again, this is just my impression. But what I see is someone who cares so much about her partner’s comfort that she’s pushing her own feelings aside. I see a lot of love, and a lot of compassion, and the potential for a beautiful relationship. But...you’re not going to get there without honesty. This man hurt both of you.” Courtney opens her mouth to protest, and Bob immediately relents, clarifying, “Not in the same way, and not to the same degree. But you’ve both been manipulated, and you’ve both been hurt. She needs to hear what it was like for you. I promise you, this is as much for Bianca as it is for you.”

“Well, it was…” Courtney sniffles. “I honestly don’t remember that part, I wasn’t really...there. I was just thinking that if I can just get through it, it would be okay. And it might be my only chance to be with her, so-”

“Talk to her…”

“-so even if it was just that one night, it would be...it would be worth it.” Courtney clings to Bianca’s hand.

“Was it worth it?” Bob asks.

“I...I can’t answer that.”

“Did it turn out how you expected?”

“At the time? No. In the morning, when she was-” Courtney pauses and turns to Bianca, “When you were gone, I still thought that maybe it would be okay. A lot happened, maybe you were just like...processing. It didn’t mean that you didn’t care. But then…”

Tears stream down Bianca’s cheeks. She knows what’s coming. This is the part she’s been dreading all day.

“I’m sorry, B.”

“It’s okay. Tell her,” Bob says softly.

“When you said that I...when you pushed me away, I...I just couldn’t understand. It was like, everything had been a lie, and it made me question whether I was even living in reality.”

“Sound familiar?” Bob asks Bianca.

Bianca nods, crying too much to answer. She starts to choke out another apology.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I mean, I know now.” Courtney gently dabs at Bianca’s cheeks with a tissue, her own vision blurry with tears. “I love you, B. I love you so much.”

“Then why don’t you want me?” Bianca blurts out, and Courtney looks at her with alarm.

“Don’t want you?! What-” Courtney stops, shaking her head in disbelief. “Of course I want you. I always have.”

“It just feels like something’s changed. Like...and maybe it’s me. Maybe you just aren’t attracted to me like this.” Bianca gestures down at her body, and Courtney’s head shakes even more vigorously.

“B, I’ve told you, you look beautiful. And to be honest, pretty much exactly the same. Okay? Please, I don’t know why you think I’m…” Courtney rubs her eyes. “I want you, okay? I just…I guess, part of me still worries that if we sleep together, it’ll all go to shit again. I’m not good at this; I don’t usually do relationships. And I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not gonna lose me, why would you think that?”

“I…” Courtney falters. “I don’t know.”

“May I offer a possible perspective here?” Bob asks. Courtney gestures for her to proceed. “So, the last time you were together, physically, what followed was silence, gaslighting and ultimately...rejection.”

“I don’t know...yeah. I guess.” Courtney lowers her eyes.

“So it’s not exactly a mystery why you’re feeling anxious about doing it again. Is it?”

“No,” Courtney sighs. “But it might be a little irrational.”

“Well, you know, we’re not always perfectly rational. And that’s okay. Look, I don’t think you should force anything. Or do anything before you’re ready. There are a lot of kinds of intimacy,” Bob says. “So, my advice would be to focus on that, and take sex out of the equation entirely.”

“Ugh,” Bianca groans slightly, and Courtney laughs, squeezing her hand.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” Bob says, chuckling along. “I don’t mean forever. Just for now. Take the pressure off. Think of it as laying down a foundation...for your, uh...future house...I didn’t think this metaphor through.”

“I think we get it, doc.”

“Right. Well...we still have ten minutes left. Any other problems for me to solve?” Bob jokes, offering a bright smile.

***

Courtney collapses onto the couch, exhausted, nerves frayed.

“Oh my god, how do you do that every week?”

Bianca chuckles softly, sitting down beside her.

“This week it was twice.”

“Jesus.” Courtney pulls her in closer, eyes falling closed. “I know you’re probably hungry, but like...I can’t even think about cooking right now.”

“PostMates?” Bianca suggests, yawning.

“Fabulous.”

Bianca starts to sit up, but Courtney hugs her tight, cuddling closer.

“In a minute…” Courtney says.

“Okay.” Bianca nuzzles into her neck. She feels warm and safe, but guilty. There’s a lump rising in her throat. “I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what, baby?” Courtney smoothes down her hair.

“I should never have let him touch you.”

“It’s not your fault, B.”

“And I should have told you...how I really felt about you. I should have told you so much sooner,” Bianca whispers.

“And how’s that?” Courtney asks, lips grazing Bianca’s forehead.

Bianca lifts up her head and looks her square in the eye, brow furrowed.

“...shut up,” she finally says, and Courtney bursts out laughing, snuggling close. 

[milkytcake]

Claimed (ShigarakixReader)

I’m here with another fic I randomly thought would be cute!

 *Gender neutral, cute fluff*

“We’ve been walking for hours Y/n. Are you done yet?” 

“If you’re gonna complain, then why did you come along?! Besides I haven’t found it yet. I’m starting to think they don’t sell those cute kitty stickers anymore” you pouted. The hooded messy light blue hair male made a disgust sound with his tongue, “I have to keep you safe from those Pro Heroes. Besides I need fresh air to clear my head and think of my next move.” Shigaraki Tomura was keeping you company as you search for your beloved stickers at the mall. It’s been 3 hours of searching and it was surprising he was still with you. It seems he had all the patience for you and kept zero for others, it was quite endearing. 

“I give up. I’m never gonna find those cute stickers here. I hate looking online because of the shipping prices. I swear villains control eBay.” You slumped your shoulders and laughed at your own joke, too bad he didn’t seemed to get it as he was looking elsewhere. He was serious about keeping you safe, his eyes darting about. “Hey, Tomu” That was the first time you called him by a nickname. His head looked up to you eagerly in response mixed with surprise. You could tell he raised his eyebrows by the way his eyes widen. It made you laugh to yourself sometimes; the way his unkempt hair framed his handsome face made him look… adorable. Though you never said it out loud to anyone, you kept your feelings about the male to yourself. It was mostly likely out of insecurity and/or stubbornness. Shigaraki was the complete opposite. He made it clear that he was attracted to you from the start. Little gifts were given to you almost daily and they weren’t really anything except tiny keychains or various of cute items you reminded him of or that he kept in mind what you commented that you liked one time. He talked a lot with you around and prefers to have just you for company like to explain his ideas of the world and how he was going to achieve them. The others can ‘go fuck themselves to death with a hamster’ he quoted one time. You like to think he loves them in his own twisted way. But that was not the case. Shigaraki hated almost everything that moves but you were an exception. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit as he took in the name you gave him: his heart was soaring thinking that you finally returned the feelings of affection. You became flustered, “I - I’m actually gonna head to the restrooms really quick before we leave!” With that you lurched forward walking briskly before he said anything else. 

The excitement was too much so your stomach felt like it was doing flips and having a fuckin’ party because you felt like hurling to the nearest trashcan. Throwing water in your face from the sink you stared at yourself in the dirty mirror, “Ok calm down Y/n. Play it cool. You’re just calling him Tomu because you guys are in public! Nothing to be embarrassed about, he obviously likes you yeah no biggie…,”Then you started to sweat, “FUCK! I LIKE HIM SO MUCH BUT AM I ENOUGH?! HE’S TOO AMAZING AND I’M A PRACTICALLY A FREAKING QUIRKLESS POTATO TURD. WHAT IS A STUPID QUIRK LIKE OMNILINGUISM GONNA DO FOR HIM SAY ‘HEY! IMMA FUCK YOU ALL MIGHT’ IN 15 DIFFERENT LANGUAGES?!” A parent ushered their child out of the bathroom as you started talking to yourself in a high pitched voice that escalated in a pterodactyl-like whale sound. You took a deep breath and fixed your hair. Walking out of the public bathroom while calling yourself stupid under your breath, you sensed and heard something, no, someone that you loathed. “Y/n! Wow I haven’t seen you in years!” A guy with a stupid snarky grin waved to you. Your body seized and your mouth dry as you faced your ex. You hated him. When you dated him in high school, he was a dick because when he broke up with you after 2 weeks, he only did it as a prank for $50. It seemed he never changed after 2 years. “What brings you here? I thought you moved cities. I’m lucky! I’ve seen your picture on the LineApp and thought damn. You’re smoking hot now! Hey let’s trade emails” He reached for his cell and held it out. You didn’t trust him, it was that same smile that kept you up every night for the rest of your school years. “No.” You said. “Huh? What you mean no? C’mon, it was a joke in school and that happened yeeaaaarrrrssss ago! Give me a chance to redeem myself.” He took a step forward while you a step back, “I said no. Go fuck yourself.“ “Look I know it was a shitty thing of me to do but believe me I feel bad! Just give me your cell Y/n.” “St-stop!” You raised your tone in distress before a hand came to grab your ex’s wrist that was near you.

“Ahh… Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you but I see you’re talking with a friend?” It was Shigaraki. He had a big smile on his face while he talked but you knew he was putting a front. Your ex was confused, “Yea- yeah, Y/n was and is a close friend of mine. Let go of my wrist.” He tried tugging it back but Shigaraki held tighter with four fingers making your ex wince in pain and then drop his cell in Shigaraki’s other hand. The smile was now replaced with a deep frown and unhinged eyes, “No… I don’t think my Y/n likes you very much by the tears in her eyes and to be honest, I hate you too.” Shigaraki clenched all five of his fingers on your ex cell and letting the ashes fall slowly to the ground, fully displaying his deadly quirk. Shigaraki then got close and spoke lowly, “If we weren’t in public I would have killed you already. Next time, if I see you even in the same building as Y/n, I won’t hesitate (Ex’s L/n F/n).” With that Shigaraki released him, and your ex scurried away in absolute terror, pushing people out of the way. He probably recognized Shigaraki but that didn’t matter to him. “Disgusting piece of shit… Let’s leave. I’m pissed off now.” Shigaraki sent a text to Kurogiri for a portal asap before he had a chance to kill someone near him. You quickly followed the seething male through the exit gate. Turning into a alleyway near, and Kurogiri was there with a warp and didn’t dare to ask questions from the look in your eyes and Shigaraki’s.

The sound of many decaying newspapers filled the bar room. Shigaraki felt it wasn’t therapeutic enough because his fist came down on the table. If his eyes could kill just by looking, everything in the room would be gone. You were quiet, you couldn’t voice what you’re feeling but it would be described as safe or secured. Whichever one you chose, you showed it by hugging Shigaraki from behind. He froze on the spot when he felt warm as you wrap your arms around his thin torso. Your forehead against the middle of his back. Kurogiri took this as a sign to leave the bar for sometime and walked to the back. “Thank you” you whispered. You felt him jolt and his chest expanded and contracted. But you released him from your grip wondering if you crossed the line, “Sorry, I just couldn’t say anything and I just hugged you and… You were amazing back there Shigaraki.” Shigaraki eyes widen but uncharacteristically looked elsewhere bashfully while scratching his neck, “I rather you call me Tomu” he said lowly. Your face lit up remembering the nickname you slipped up. It felt like you were going to die on the spot. He was dropping his walls for only you, making you feel almost worthy for him. “I mean! Uh You’re always amazing with everything you do! You’re super badass and you almost killed the number one hero All Might. I feel like a crazed fan sometimes and I don’t feel worthy for you at all!” You almost felt regret from gushing about him in his face but you were floored by what he did next. “You’re so cute,” Tomu said softly caressing your left cheek with the back of his index finger. Your lips quivered from the affection and your face red as a tomato. “So, um…” You started and he stopped his gesture. “You.. like me?” 

He waved his hand about responding in glee while sitting on a bar stool, “Of course! If I didn’t like you, you wouldn’t be mine.” He replied. “Oh yeah I forg- wait. What. I’m yours?” You stared at the lanky male incredulity, “When, how?” 

Tomu started scratching his neck again, ”What you mean how? Was it not obvious? Kurogiri even said I was too forward. He said I needed to actually ask but I hate asking for things.” 

“Usually the person ask the other person out but I don’t mind at all.” You stiffed a laugh. He was so unique and charming; he didn’t know how to properly start a relationship but you loved how he had his own way of doing things. “So I don’t need to ask?” He asked giving me his full attention. “No it’s fine. Either way I would’ve said ye-mmphf!” You weren’t paying attention. Tomu wrapped 4 fours around your wrist to pull you forward on his lap for a clumsy kiss. His nose brushed against yours as his long wavy bangs tickled your face and his hands kept you steady on him. Your eyes softly fluttered closed to mimic his own. His damaged lips were pressed hard against yours and it ended as quickly as it started. He eyed your half lidded eyes and flushed cheeks then he beams feeling proud, “Nice.” You felt so happy as he put his chin on top of your head, swallowing you in his arms. And you swore he said mine under his breath but you didn’t question it. Tomu started checking his pants pockets then pulled out a pair of anti foul gloves. They covered his pinkies and ring fingers. “So when is it normal to have sex Y/n?” Gasping, you pulled his hoodie over his face feeling mortified. You crossed your arms while he smiled big even though half of his face was covered. “You said I don’t have to ask right?” You squeaked and instantly turned around, arms crossed in a huff. “I didn’t know you were a pervert!” He didn’t reply but you felt his head on your shoulder. A minute past before you started to feel a bit worried by his silence.

“Y/n…”

“Hm?”

“Know that I will never let you go.” Tomu held you tight in his grip. It was almost a threat but you couldn’t help but smile. He needed you as much as you needed him. “Never. I’m going to be by your side forever and watch you kill All Might.” 

[chimmychanga1225]

Homeless: Damijon (3)

It’s slow as hell, but whatever. Hope you enjoy.

———

After bidding goodbye, the group began introductions for Jon, starting with none other than Wally. “Hi, my name’s Wallace, but you can call me Sir.”

Kate hit him upside the head, pulling laughs out of Calvin and Barbara. “Ignore brat #2. My name’s Kate Kane.”

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Jon said shyly. “I’m Jon Samuel Kent.”

“Wow, busting out the middle and last name? What now, you gonna give us your social security?”

“Do you have any limits, Wallace? Because you’re currently reaching mine,” Kate growled. Wally’s eyes went comically wide, as he backed off.

“On an unrelated note,” he began, “gotta blast.” Brat #2 sped out of the room and building, clearly not taking any chances with the red head.

Kate’s demeanor quickly shifted from full take down mode to the lowest-amount-of-threatening-she could-manage mode as she turned to Jon. “Hmm, Jon Samuel, right?”

Jon nodded earnestly. “J.S..... Consider yourself officially dubbed Jesus,” Kate decided, not an ounce of humor in her expression.

“W-What,” Jon asked, confused by the girl’s reasoning. He looked to Calvin and Barbara for help, but while Barbara could just barely stifle her laughs, Calvin sighed. “It’s Kate. No one can really follow her thought process. It’s a miracle we haven’t sent her in for testing.”

“You know you love it, Nemo. Now let’s go. We have to find Brat #2 and give Jesus a tour. I’ll take Babs,” and with that, Kane and Barbara strutted out of the room.

———

“We only go to one floor in the Wayne building, so there really isn’t a need to show you anything else here besides nook and crannies fool of spider webs and trash,” Barbara informed. She took her hands from her lap and held Kate’s as she pushed her chair along the crumbly walk way leading away from the building. “However, we still need to take you around town to show you the hot spots.”

“Hot spots,” Jon weakly reiterated. He couldn’t help but feel terribly lost. The whole method to enter the building alone made his head feel jumbled, but mapping out the city too? These people were severely over estimating his ability.

Calvin gave Jon a “comforting” (painful) clap on the back, along with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry too much about, kid. You’ll be able to pick it up after a while.”

A thought suddenly occurred to Jon. “Kid? Wait, how old are all of you?”

“Babs and I are 19. Calvin’s 17. Brat #2 is 15, but likes to act like he’s older than everyone else,” Kate told him, idly playing with the hands linked to her’s.

“You’re all so young,” Jon stated, surprise etched all over his face.

“What did you expect? Senior citizens?”

“No, I just... nevermind.”

Kate shrugged, not bothering with the newbie. She instead focused her attention on Barbara’s scratched up glasses. The pair steadily pushed ahead of the group, leaving Calvin and Jon in the dust.

“I know it’s a sensitive topic for some people,” Calvin said slowly, as if not to scare Jon away, “but how’d you get here?”

“Nothing special. Just the usual,” Jon brushed off the statement as best as he could.

“There’s no usual way to get homeless, Jon. We all have stories. If you don’t want to share just yet, that’s fine. But my advice is to be prepared to spill later. Damian will get the truth out of you one way or another.” Calvin turned away from the other, jogging ahead to catch up with Kate and Barbara.

“Looking forward to it,” Jon grumbled.

———

Damian was sure of it. He was going to kill someone before his shift ended. “Excuse me,” a customer screeched in his face, “we’ve been waiting for our order for over ten minutes. What’s the hold up!?”

The teen tried his best to keep his composure. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Unfortunately, we’re a little backed up in the kitchen. Please excuse me.” Damian dismissed himself to the back, hearing the woman’s grumbling the entire way. Only when he was finally out of sight did he kick the shit out of the wall. “Fuckin hate this job,” he growled, throwing one more solid kick at the wall. After getting all his energy and anger out, he collapsed down on the worn down tiles of the kitchen to pull out a cigarette. “Sounds like it’s someone’s time of the month. You aren’t allowed to smoke here, you know,” an obnoxious voice rang out.

“Shut up, Tim.”

“It’s against the establishment’s policy to smo-,” Damian cut him off.

“It’s a McDonald’s, Timothy. Get over yourself.”

Tim quickly snatched the pack and cigarette from Damian, tucking them away in his apron. “It’s bad for you, anyways,” he lectured.

Damian stood up, dangerously glaring at Tim. Not that it made much of a difference, with the relatively wide gap between their heights. “Give then back.”

“Back to work,” Tim simply ordered.

It’s truly a miracle Damian hasn’t killed someone yet.

———

“I’m off,” Damian said to no one in particular. He took his weekly payment with him, stuffing it into one of the many pockets in his second hand jacket.

“Wait up,” someone yelled from behind.

Damian strode ahead, determined not waste anymore of his time at the “establishment” or with its “associates”.

“Damian, wait!”

“Ugh, what do you want Timothy?”

“If you’re done acting like a child, here.” Tim places the Marlboro pack in Damian’s hand, before retreating back in the direction of his car. “See you next week, Damian.”

“Whatever.” As much as he disliked the goody two shoes, Damian couldn’t hate Timothy. He’s only been working for a few months with Tim, and he’s already treating the other like a younger brother. Either way, Damian was grateful. “Thanks,” he called out, although Tim was already long gone.

Damian shook the box, trying to get it to dispense a cigarette when instead he got a little rolled up note instead.

You should really stop smoking, D. You’ll get sick. But I did leave a few essentials in the box. :P

- T

Damian tore the box apart only to find a wad of cash clipped to... a pad? “You’re dead, Timothy.”

———

“I’m back,” Damian called out, sounding only moments away from collapsing.

“How was work? Did you get paid,” Barbara badgered. Damian groaned in response, raising an envelope in the air. Kate swiped it from his hands to bring it to Barbara. “You’re welcome,” he muttered.

He walked past the two as they counted out his pay, and collapsed on his cot. “You guys show new kid around?”

Calvin came around to Damian’s area, sitting by his corpse, basically. “We showed him the ropes and everything, but he’s still pretty tight lipped. He’s hanging with Wallace for the moment.”

“And Wallace is where?”

“To be determined.”

“Fabulous,” Damian grunted with effort as he pushed himself up. “We should probably go find those two before they set the city on fire or do something else stupid.”

“Do we have to chase after them every time he does something idiotic,” Kate complained. “I don’t want to play babysitter 24/7.”

“Fine. Damian and I can go while you and Babs stay here, in case they come back or if someone calls. Cool?”

“Awesome,” Barbara exclaimed dryly. She was too focused on budgeting the necessities for next week to worry about everyone else. “See you later.”

———

“Wally, I don’t think this is a great idea,” Jon said, stressfully checking their surroundings. “What if we get caught?”

“C’mon Jon, it’s only stealing if they really need the money. We’re at a private gym. There no doubt hear people can spare a 20 or two with their fancy pool memberships.

“Yeah,” Jon said still not entirely convinced.

“If you’re so nervous, let me show you how it’s done, newbie. I’ll be back in a flash,” Wally took off before Jon could protest.

Wally walked through the changing room casually, as if he belonged there. Jon was almost impressed by the other’s bullshit capabilities.

Wally whistled away as he walked by the security lockers. Only after a minute of two of waiting for the hall to clear out, did he start fiddling with one of the locks. Just seconds later did the cubby unlock with a small pop. Wally sent a wicked grin to Jin as he held up a wallet. At least until Wally heard a “Just what do you think you’re doing” from behind him.

Wally’s instincts kicked in, getting him to run but the man behind him already grabbed him by his hoodie’s collar and slammed him on the ground, head first. Jon felt his heart drop as he heard the sickening crack. And just when he thought it was over, the man began to kick him in the ribs while he was down.

“Scum like you shouldn’t even be in here,” he fumed, sending a kick after every word. Jon rushed in, covering Wally’s body with his own. “Stop! Please just stop! We won’t bother you again, so please...”

“Be grateful I didn’t call the cops.” The man sauntered off rather quickly as he and Jon realized Wally wasn’t getting up. “Wally? Wally?!”

———

Well that’s it for now. Bye.

[throughthedirt]

Season 1: Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter — First Chapter

Miles

It didn't matter that I was just shy of turning 44 years old. The University of Oregon campus was nearly 300 acres of property housing nearly 23,000 students from around the world. Sure, the majority were teens and young adults, but there was no shortage of older individuals seeking education. More so, I didn't have to be a student. I could be a teacher, a maintenance worker, the IT guy, even a fuckin' janitor. For all anyone knew, I belonged here. And the way I walked through those grand, window-framed doors - people knew. I had a purpose. Showing no signs of hesitation, fear, or confusion, I waltzed my way throughout the campus. For nearly an hour, I roamed the campus freely and without even batting an eyelash to any other person. I was mostly ignored by those who did notice me. But for most, it was like I didn't even exist - just like the rest of them. I was just another body in a mass of humans. But I was here for a reason, and that was to fulfill a job and keep a promise; an agreement that got me freedom in 6. Kyle Turner. Kyle fucking Turner. "Fuckin' football prick raped my niece and got off scot-free," as Correctional Lieutenant Dave Ward would say. The very first words of his that changed the course of my history at Oregon State Pen. And I had read the reports, the articles, the media frenzy - all in prison. I knew what he had done, and he was guilty. But a fully-paid scholarship and a hell of a lot of "hush-money" got him nothing. Not even a smack on the wrist. He walked. Went free. And Ward's niece? Well, things didn't go so great for her. Fearing him, she refused her admittance into UofO, afraid she would see him again. So the fucker had to die. And now it was finally time. 

Approaching the glass doors of the Performance Center, I made a fatal mistake. Reaching my hand out to pull on the handle, the door stayed shut. It creaked as I tried to open it - but it was locked. "Uh, hello?" A large football player called to me in his confusion, his mouth agape and his eyes squinted as he made his approach. He was as heavy as he was tall; his long, afro-style hair alone adding inches to his height. "This building is for authorized personnel only..." He said to me, pulling a plastic card from behind him and slipping it through the swipe-pad beside the door. The pad flashed green and the door clicked. Unlocked. This place was advanced, way more security than I could have ever imagined. University of Oregon had changed in the last 6 years. Turning to him, I gave a toothy grin and begin to chuckle. "Boy do I feel old, huh." He looked at me, cautiously as he stood before the door. But I didn't let him disappear into the building before I extracted needed information. "I'm actually lookin' for someone - maybe you can help me..." I iterated, "One of your football mates, Kyle Turner." The player gave me a saucy eye glare. "What about him?" Pausing, I conjured the biggest load of shit I could muster up in 0.2 seconds. "My niece, you know-" I started to chuckle, so much so that it interrupted my speech. "Ah man, this is embarrasing on her part, but she's... she's a HUGE fan of his. And I mean HUGE. She has posters of him all over her room, you know?" "Uh-huh..." Little interest from him. Only suspicion. But I didn't let him get another word in. "I mean she's just nuts for college football. Strange for a girl, no? I guess the world is changin' and I'm far behind. Heh, heh, heh." I chuckled again, trying to fluster the boy with too much information for him to process. "But ANYWAYS -" I continued, "Her birthday's comin' up and I was hopin' to get maybe a... you know... surprise appearance from him?" There was a look of confusion on the poor boy's face. "WITH COMPENSATION, of course." Another smile. "Uhhhhhhhmm, righttttt." He replied. "Let me..." He struggled to respond. Possibly the weirdest request he'd ever received, surely. "Let me go see if he's here. I'll be right back." "Sure thing, but ah-!" I held my hand up, a signal for him to stop as he reached for the handle. "Allow me," Taking the door by the giant O shape in its handle, I pulled the steel frame open to allow for the jock to head in. In respect to him, I closed it behind him, locking me out of the building once more. I stood there waiting. Waiting patiently. With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I casually swayed my body and whistled a chirpy hymn. To my surprise, it took only minutes for the door to open again. And out came Kyle fuckin' Turner in the flesh. And he wasn't a teenager anymore. No... He was a man, now. "Uh, hi-?" Kyle would greet me, without so much as a formal introduction. Fuckin' millennials. It took me a moment to sink in his appearance. Tall, 6'1, still shorter than me. A big guy, no doubt. But size didn't matter when it came to murder. Only intent, motive, and calculation. "Yes! Kyle Turner." Pulling my hand from my coat pocket, I extended it to him. "My name is Angelo Rossi. It's great to meet you!" Turner took my hand, shaking it as firmly as I was squeezing. But as he had taken my hand in his, I had also raised my other free hand to firmly grip his bicep. A sort of gesture of greeting, but it secretly to scope his muscular size. "Yeah, thanks." The fucker would respond. Yeah, thanks? Really? Really. Releasing his hand, I returned my superior 6 foot 3 stance to it's upright position and gave a fake, cheery smile. "My niece, she's a crazy fan." Pulling for my wallet, I slipped out a photograph of a teenage girl. "Her name is Nakoma. She's... half native half Italian, like me. Heh." Kyle took the photo in his hand, his eyebrows raising at the beautiful young lady he saw in the picture. Perfect, interest. "A looker, I know. Causes me more problems, ya know?" I chuckled, taking the photo back. "So listen, I came here hopin' I could hire you. For a job, of sorts." Kyle crossed his arms before him and looked at me curiously. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, man. I'm organizing Nakoma's 16th birthday and I really want to make it special. She has posters of ya' all around her room and I thought, pffftttt, what better to surprise her with her favorite football player? Every teenage girl's dream, right?" I laughed again, thinking the idea is silly, but might actually work. "Nothin' major. There's be about 30 of her girlfriends there hangin' around the pool-" Realizing it was January, I instantly corrected myself. "Indoor pool, at her father's place. Big place, you know?" Kyle's head was nodding - Still interested. "Figured you can drop by for an hour or so, or even less if you're in a crunch. Sign some autographs, take some pictures. Grab a bite to eat, whatever you want. There'll be plenty of food, cuz, well, Italians, am I right?" Laughing again, Kyle's interest seemed to only be piquing the more bizarre and outlandish the story got. "Sounds fun." He smiled, bringing his fingers to his lips as he pondered the thought of 30 hot teenage girls in their bikinis. "But uh-" He started to sway. "I don't know-" "I'll pay you $5,0000. Cash." I confessed. His eyes widened. "$2,500 for showing up. $1,500 for autographs and another $1,000 if you take some selfies. You know' - the girls thing. Selfies, heh." I paused, my eyes growing darker as they remained hidden behind Aviator shades. "What do ya' say? We got a deal?" Swiftly changing tunes, "You know what, don't sweat the decision now. There's a lot of politics in sports, I'm old. I know it." I waved my hand in typical Italian fashion. "You gotta' business card or somethin'?" "Uh, nah but I can give you my number-" Perfect. A rich white kid, hot-shot jock, AND a moron. This was too easy. Handing him the photo, he retrieved a pen from his pocket and jotted down his digits. "Wow, thanks man. I appreciate you considering this." I waved the photograph of "Nakoma" and slipped it back into my wallet. "I'll give you a call something this week. Talk it over with your coach or manager or whoever you kids report to, heh." I put my hand out for him to shake again, "And nice meeting you again."

—   —   —  

I found myself roaming the halls of University of Oregon on my attempt to exit the campus. My curious mind sent me further and further into the campus maze - a prestigious multitude of buildings and intricate floor plans; each with its own purpose, meaning, and unique design. Deep in UofO, I stumbled upon the Department of Fine Arts. The halls were brimming from floor-to-ceiling with murals and artwork. Slowing my pace, I stopped to appreciate the work. I had always had an affinity to for paintings. My eye had always found itself drawn to the color red. Red. My dark irises wandered the walls, finally pulling towards a large, 5 foot canvas. It soared above me - dazzling in its ocean of red. The painting was of a woman, presumably dripping in blood. A sort of, Queen of the Damned. Intrigued, my eyes shifted to the small plaque stuck to the wall by the corner of the artwork. Nicola Strom. My stomach sunk as my heart skipped a beat. "Crucifixion." The words rolled off of my lips. My head retracted slowly as my eyes closed. "Mmmm."

—   —   —  

January 20th, 2018 - Five days after release. Eugene, Oregon had been unusually warm for January. For the most part, it was sunny and rainy on-and-off, with an average high temperature of 45 degrees F. Too warm for snow. At least, not enough sub-zero temperatures to keep it for more than a couple days, anyways. Luckily for this lovely Saturday evening, the rain had stopped early morning and the skies were greeted by a brightening sun. Kyle parked his Trail-Rated Jeep cruiser in front of the colonial-century home, red-bricked mansion. He ducked his head, looking over the place with his pale eyes as he took in the sheer size of the place. Although Eugene was home to old money - big money - it was also commonly inhabited by the middle class. Whoever owned this place... wasn't a white-collar, middle class citizen. Exiting his truck, he approached the front door, which was lavishly decorated with a Sweet-Sixteen balloon bundle. A clear indication he was at the right house. As he rang the doorbell, it only took a few seconds before he was greeted by a familiar face. "Mr. Turner." I said, standing tall with my hand cemented firmly on the back of the door. It was the first time he was seeing my hazel-speckled brown eyes. It was also the last. "Cute." I blurted, subliminally mocking his uniformed self as my eyes gazed over his full-football get-up. Shredded sleeves to show his pectoral muscles. How sleazy. Helmet and all. How sweet. "Come join the fun." I smirked, guiding him through the front door. "But maybe take off the helmet." Chuckling, Turner cracked a smile as he took a step into the house - which was, unsuspectingly, filled with the sound of laughing girls. "Too much, huh?" Kyle joked, unclasping the helmet and slipping his head free. His back was to me as I closed the door. "I thought mayb-" The moment he turned to face me, my hand - hidden behind the door the entire time - swung straight for his head. A thin medical syringe pierced into the side of his neck - administered by my right hand - Gloved. Protected. Injecting the cocktail of muscle relaxants, Kyle quickly deteriorated in a matter of seconds. His initial reaction to grab for my hand, but by the time he could react - it was already too late. He was losing almost all of his muscle ability. One. Two. Three. He hit the ground, unable to move, unable to moan, unable to call for help. With his body curled in the middle of the hallway, his eyes remained open - panicked. Looking down at his 6'1, 200 pound physique - which had been reduced to nothing in just seconds - I shook my head. Pathetic. His eyes followed my every move. He was conscious. Awake. Aware. I stepped over him and walked past him like he didn't even exist. Stepping into my living room, I smiled at the sound of giggling teenage girls filled the open-concept space. Walking over to the stereo system, I grabbed the remote and clicked - Off. Silence. Girls? What girls. There were no girls. Returning to his paralyzed figure, I crouched down to brood over him. I tilted my head to the side and grabbed his face between my gloved thumb and fingers. Squeezing his limp cheeks between them as I leaned his head to look at me. "Oh, Kyle." I made clicking noises with the back of my tongue. "Remember her?" Pulling a photograph from my back pocket - Sarah Ward. "Yeahhhhh." I flicked the photo in his face, nearly submitting to my urge to spit on him. "You're gonna die tonight." There was a dark, unforgiving grimace that crept my cheeks. "And it's gonna fuckin' hurt." Two, single-drop tears fell from the corners of his eyes. Hours had passed. Daylight turned to dark as night loomed over the city. Darkness was here. And it didn't come from the sky, nor the sun. Using Kyle's keys, I exited the mansion on the quiet, quaint street. E 22nd Avenue - a large strip of homes graciously spread apart; separated by the comfort of many, decades-old trees. I pulled the vehicle into the long driveway, reversing it rear-forward all the way to the side of the house. Two garage doors welcomed the Jeep, closing behind the front of it. It remained utterly hidden, safe within the confines of the home's garage. It would remain there until 3:45 in the morning, and a storm was brewing. The sound of the garage door sliding gurgled as it swayed open. Keeping the lights of the Jeep off, I placed it into drive and pulled it out of my driveway. The garage door closed behind me automatically, dismissing any evidence it had ever harbored a crime scene. My heart remained regular - beating as it would driving any other vehicle, on any other day, under any other circumstances. Humming, I drove the few blocks between the mansion and the University Campus. The Jeep came to the vehicle entrance of the Oregon Autzen Football Stadium. Like everything within the Performance Center, it required a swipe card to be unlocked and accessed. Holding out Kyle Tuner's card, I flicked it between the pad and waited. Flashing green, the gates to the field slid open. Although forbidden to bring any vehicles directly on to the terrain, it was 3:50 in the morning, on a Saturday. Too late for any players to be hangin' around during off-season, and too early for any maintenance workers or cleaners to begin their services. It was pitch-black, and between the sticky snow and the blowing winds - visibility was poor. Reversing the trail-rated wrangler, I slowly backed it up on to the field, parking the trunk of the vehicle directly in front of the brightly-yellow painted goal-post. Exiting the vehicle, I was dressed from head-to-toe in Kyle's football uniform, with the addition of a black long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. No tattoos were visible. Virtually nothing about me was recognizable. For all intensive purposes, I could very well be Kyle Turner. Unlatching the trunk, it swooshed open. There lay the true Kyle Turner. The flesh and blood. And there was a lot of blood. Taking the thick, twisted rope in my hand, I ran it from the back of the truck to the goalpost. Tossing it over the post's T-center, I caught it back in my hand and ran it back to the truck. The end of the rope was supported by a curled grappling hook. Kneeling behind the trunk, I fastened the hook to the hitch on the Jeep and found my way back to the driver's seat. Pushing the gears into drive, I slowly began to inch the vehicle forward until the rope strained - pulling viciously with the weight. Metal to the floor, I forced the truck into overdrive, suddenly gunning it forward and sending the object in the trunk to veer out of the vehicle. Decelerating the tracks, I watched in my review mirror as the item - two strong planks of crossed wood - reeled up against the T in the yellow goalpost. As it mounted to perfect height, I slammed the Jeep in park, and swiftly - excitedly- hopped out of the truck. It started slow at first, my heavy, rumbling laughter. But it evolved, soon developing into a magnified, thrill-infused maniacal cackle. Victory.

—   —   —   January 21st, 2018 - The Discovery. The lights to the stadium flickered on - lighting the dark early-morning. The sun would not rise for another hour. And for a group of football jocks mucking their way to football practice, it would be a morning they would never forget. Wailing. Loud, incessant, uncontrollable wailing. The sound of screaming echoed throughout the stadium; hair-raising in its velocity, and intensity. The scene brought a grown, 21-year old man to his knees. Vomit projected from his chapped lips as he puked vehemently on the immaculate, freshly-snowed grass - staining it flaxen. It brought a wave of nausea to the entire team. Some cried, some collapsed, some gagged, heaved, hurled. But most... most stood in shock. Hailed before them was the body of Christ - a crucifixion of their most valued team member. There lay the body of Kyle Turner, naked and colorless, with only the stain of bleeding red that covered his postmortem flesh. His genitals were mutilated. His penis split in three different directions. He had been completely castrated; his balls were absent entirely from his groin. An indescribable amount of blood has been loss at its expense, leaving a blood-pour of red human serous to cascade down his legs. Cause of death? Blood loss. Slow, agonizing, harrowing blood loss. The cross hung from the center of the goalpost, the snow beneath his purple-faded feet red with blood. His hands were staked on either side; his ankles crossed and tied. His neck - the same color as his bruised toes - was mounted by barbed wire. His head bore the same fate - crowned like that of Christ with blood trickling from his scalp. RAPIST - Carved with a knife in to his forehead. SINNER - The words dripped from his abdomen in crusting blood, beginning to harden... but still moist. Fresh. —   —   —   "Shocking news this morning on KVAL-13." Smitha George - Live News Reporter, would announce on national television. "A tragedy has occurred at University of Oregon. Senior Football Quarterback Kyle Turner, Star of the Oregon Ducks, was found brutally murdered at the campus stadium." She would go on, standing unshaken in the parking lot of the Performance Center. "Police have ruled the case a homicide after teammates found Tuner's mutilated body crucified on the goal-post of the end field." Spilling too much information for her own good - reporters classically interfered with investigations; often jeopardizing their efforts. "His hands and feet were reportedly pinned to a wooden cross, and his head wrapped in barb wire. Teammates report that the words "Rapist" and "Sinner" were carved on his body..." "... And that his eyes and lips were painted red, with blood." "Turner's vehicle, a Black 2017 Jeep Wrangler - was found abandoned at the scene. Police are looking for any information that may aid their efforts in solving this terrible case." She paused, staring into the camera as her words fed into the lives of millions of Oregon residents. "I'm Smitha George, reporting LIVE for KVAL-13 News." The clip ended.

[sleepyfaceandsnark]

The Highwayman

The most dangerous thing a Highwayman could do was fall in love with the Inn Keeper's redheaded son. WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S)

A raven haired man dressed in all black rides at midnight with his horse to match and a dark cloth covering his face as protection from the cold and his identity. A typical outfit for what they called a Highway man, though others referred to him as simply a thief. It’s not really the life he wanted but it’s what he had to do to get by. He rides to an old rundown Inn ran by a drunken landlord who was hardly ever home. The Inn is fairly vacant except for one room which inhabits the landlord’s son with his beautiful red hair.

The dark clothed man approaches the Inn door and upon seeing it’s panels boarded up, goes to the back where he knows the landlord’s son stays.

He taps lightly on the window frame. 3 quick knocks and 2 delayed, a pattern they used many times before. Like magic the redhead appears in the window, his pale skin illuminating in the darkness.

“Ian,” the dark haired man whispers.

“Mickey,” He says back, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s been a bit.”

“Only a week,” Mickey retorts.

“Seemed like forever.”

If it was daytime one would see Mickey blushing but instead he did it secretly under the moonlight. “Any day without you seems like an eternity, Gallagher.” Mickey says lightly but full of meaning.

“Missed you.”

Mickey nods, taking that in. “So you gonna let me in or we just gonna whisper all night so your dad and his workers can catch us?”

Ian snickers. “No workers tonight,” he says as he opens the window wider to allow Mickey inside. “Frank’s out looking for other Inns he can run to the ground.”

“Hmm and doesn’t give a fuck about leaving here by yourself?” Mickey asks crawling through the open window.

“You met Frank?” Ian laughs. “He doesn’t give a fuck about anything except money and booze.”

This was all too true. The thing they both could always connect with was the fact that both their dads were pieces of shit. Though Ian has reassured Mickey that Mickey’s own father wins that prize and Mickey couldn’t argue with fact. Doesn’t mean Frank’s carelessness doesn’t piss Mickey off.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m here then, huh?” Mickey says standing up and grinning.

“I can handle it on my own”

“Sure you can, tough guy,” Mickey sticks his tongue out and wipes his dusty hands on his pants. He looks at Ian then. Love, longing and lust in his eyes. He walks over to the redhead, his boots thumping on the hard wooden floor. He takes his gloves off as he walks, leaving them behind. He makes it to Ian and smooths his now gloveless hand on Ian’s face, his fingertips tracing his jawline as his thumb caresses his cheek, moving down to his lips.

“Missed you too,” Mickey says, looking into Ian’s eyes before he closes them as he pulls himself closer to Ian for a kiss.

Their lips slam gently against each other’s. Ian’s then parting slightly to suck on Mickey’s bottom lip. Their tongues threaten to escape until finally they’re let out each dancing in each other’s mouths.

Mickey shrugs out of his jacket as Ian goes for Mickey’s belt. They walk towards Ian’s bed Mickey leaving his jacket behind and Ian turns them around to place Mickey on his bed, his lips still not parting from the other man. He lays on top of Mickey as Mickey kicks his boots off. They finally part as Ian grabs the band of Mickey’s pants and pulls them down the man’s legs, then undoing his own.

Ian makes love his partner, thrusting into him till he hears whines of pleasure escaping Mickey’s lips. They fuck well into the night until they exhaust themselves and lay in each other’s arms.

Ian traces the outline of Mickey’s chest with his fingers. “You think someday we’ll be able to do this every night?” Ian whispers.

Mickey moves his head up to look at Ian. “What do you mean?”

“You ever think about the future? Us being together? Living in a small place outside of town?” Ian readies himself for a laugh or to be told he’s stupid but it doesn’t come.

“Every fuckin day.” Mickey says instead.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I didn’t always want to do this you know? Scamming people, stealing from them but I thought maybe if I made enough I could move away from here where no one knows me and I can start over. Do something honest and take you out of this shitty place.”

Ian smiles fondly. “It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah… You think your dad will ever let you have this place?”

“You mean to myself?” Ian scoffs. “No way. Unless he finds something better.”

“You’d think that wouldn’t be to hard.” Mickey laughs.

“Hey we have some well paying customers?”

“Oh really? Where are they now? I never seen more than one person here besides you.”

“Haha very funny.” Ian says back. “Well maybe if you were here more, other than running around late at night doing God knows what.” It accidentally got too seriously. It always does. Neither ever wants to acknowledge how dangerous Mickey’s “job” is so it usually comes out by accident.

“Wow. Ouch.” Mickey starts to get up.

“I didn’t mean-“

“No no I get it.” Mickey grabs his shirt and puts it on. He sits up on the bed slipping on his pants.

“You’re not leaving are you?”

Mickey sighs and looks down, then back at Ian. “No, you asshole.” He says lightly. “Just getting some water.”

Mickey comes back a few minutes later and slips back into bed. Ian’s laying there still awake and Mickey moves to his side. He grabs Ian’s arm and wraps it around him, the redhead shifting on the bed to more easily drape his arm around Mickey. They move into each other, spooning, the perfect fit. They fall asleep in each other’s arms not to be awaken till late morning.

Mickey wakes up to the smell of eggs cooking. He comes downstairs to see Ian making breakfast, a thing he never got while essentially living on the road. It feels close to noon and Mickey’s surprised how late he slept.

“Mornin’” Ian greets over the sizzling noise of the pan cooking their food.

“Mornin’” Mickey says back. “How long you been up?”

“Only a little bit before you,” Ian smiles. “You hungry?”

“God yes.” Mickey lets out, taking a seat by the table.

They have a good breakfast and Mickey helps Ian with some things around the Inn though no matter what they do the place still looked like a dump afterwards.

As daylight turns to evening Mickey decides to depart. They say their goodbyes both men looking solemn.

“One day I swear.” Mickey says, referencing their conversation from the night before. “One day we can be together fully.”

Ian nods and gives a small smile. “Promise?”

Mickey shakes his head, grinning. “Yeah. I do.”

Mickey grabs his coat and opens the door.

“When will I see you again?” Ian asks.

“Few days?”

“Few days turned into weeks last time.”

Mickey sighs. “Right? Tomorrow then?” He grin slyly at Ian as if to say ‘is that soon enough for you’.

Ian nods, accepting. “You have a time?”

Mickey laughs. “I’ll come to thee in the moonlight” he says in mock extravagance.

Ian chuckles. “You better.”

“The only thing that will get in my way is the devil himself.”

Ian rolls his eyes and tries not to smile.

“That sure enough for you?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Mickey laughs and turns around to Ian. “I’ll see you then.”

Ian nods, grabs Mickey’s collar, and pulls him in for a goodbye kiss.

“Be careful.” Ian says after breaking it.

Mickey puts on his hat, “Always am.”

Mickey turns away with a small wave and gets on his horse. Ian watches the dark clothed man ride off to the distance till he can no longer see him. Neither aware of their fate that lies ahead.

Evening turns to night and night turns to morning which Ian spends mostly daydreaming in bed. Near midday he gets up to clean up the Inn some more. Though they weren’t expecting anyone for the night Ian knows if his father discovered the Inn a mess under his care Ian would never hear the end of it. Luckily he’s not expecting the old man till another day or so.

Which is why it strikes Ian as odd when he hears the sound of a horse galloping in the distance outside the window. Thinking it might be Mickey coming early he eagerly runs to the window to look out.

His grin drops quickly and a dark cloud of despair looms over him as his heart halts in fear.

It’s not Mickey. It’s as far from Mickey as could be. And it’s not just one horse and one man. It’s several infecting the beautiful scenery with their red clothing, the same color as the innocents they slaughtered in the name of whatever law they thought they were upholding.

Ian quickly backs from the window, holding his breath. Maybe they’ll think no one is home, it already looks that way from the outside. A few seconds he hears loud banging come from the front door. Once, twice, then three times.

“We know you’re in there,” one yells loudly through the wood and Ian swallows hard. The quicker he handles this the sooner they’ll go away.

“C-coming!” Ian shouts. He looks out the doors window and sees 4 men standing by the door. Even on a good day Ian’s not sure he could take them.

Ian unlocks the door and undoes the bolts. He opens the door slightly only to have it shoved further open by the man closest to the door. He’s pushed out of the way to make room for the other three.

“Check upstairs!” the man that shoved Ian barks at the others. He watches as two men run up. “You check down here” He orders the last man.

“Hey you can’t just-” Ian yells, being cut off by the order giver pointing a gun at him.

“We can do whatever the fuck we want. We hear news of you inhabiting a fugitive.”

Ian breathes in deeply, trying not to let his fear be known. He looks the man straight in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The man just grins knowingly. “Sure you don't.” He puts his cold hand to Ian’s cheek in mock admiration.

The two men that went upstairs come down as the one searching also returns. “He’s not here but we did find this.” One of the men from upstairs says and unfolds a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to the man that was talking to Ian.

“‘Til next time. Soon is never soon enough. -Love M’” He reads out loud. “‘M’ huh? Who’s M then? We know it’s not your mother. She’s long gone.”

Ian searches his brain trying to find another name to say but he can’t.

“We know about your relationship with the Milkovich boy. And we also happen to know he was here last night until the early morning. You see we’ve been keeping a close lookout on him but he always manages to escape out of our grasp. Well not this time. Right men?”

All the men nod.

“He just can’t resist the Inn keeper’s redhaired son can he? Now tell us? When exactly is ‘next time’?”

Ian shrug. “He just shows up I don’t know when.”

The man nods and circles around Ian. “So you didn’t think to take advantage of having your old man out of the place for another night?”

Ian shakes his head.

“You see we have reports of some action going on about a mile from here so we’re guessing Mr. Milkovich is due for another visit soon.”  Ian still shaking his head takes steps back away from the men.

The men come closer to Ian and his fight or flight instincts kick in.

He dashes behind him but one of the four men is there already blocking his path. He tries to turn to find another but each step he takes another man is there blocking him. They move closer and closer encircling him. Can’t flight must fight.

The leader makes a grab for him and Ian decks him straight in the jaw causing the man to stumble back.

“Grab him!” the man yells ordering his others.

Ian tries to punch, kick, hit, anything to get them away from him but despite his struggles the unharmed men grab him. They drag him to one of the rooms by the front, the window overlooking the path to the Inn a mile or 2 back. The same path Mickey was expected to come on in a few hours. Ian’s not sure of the time, it could be sooner than he thinks.

They force his arms behind him and one unravels a long strand of rope. Ian yells out a “No!” and tries to wrangle out of the grips of the other 3 men but to no avail. They bound him tightly, wrapping it all around his body and tie him to attention on the bedpost closest to the window.

One of the other men brings in a riffle and hands it to the boss.

“Your face is going to be the last thing he sees before his fate is sealed.” He man whispers in Ian’s ear. “Betrayed by his lover.”

Ian breathes in and bites his lip harshly, his jaw sliding forward in a tough demeanor. The man just looks at Ian and almost laughs. The man, gun in hand, takes it and pokes the barrel into Ian’s ribs. “This is to insure no funny business.”

He then ties it in an upright position, the muzzle just under Ian’s chest. “And in case you thought screaming would help…” The man starts as he pulls out a cloth to tie around Ian’s mouth but not before Ian spits in his face.

The idea was that one man would be on the ground by Ian’s feet, hand on the trigger in case Ian tried anything but out of sight so that Mickey wouldn’t see the man from distance away. The men quickly grew tired of looking out the window. When they figure the Milkovich boy wouldn’t be by for a few hours or so they leave Ian alone in the room the rifle still strapped to his side and venture through the Inn for booze or other things to pass the time.

Ian waits and waits, staring out the window, for once praying desperately Mickey doesn’t come. The night comes and Ian’s about to pass out despite the uncomfortable position he was in but then he hears it. A small trotting noise deep in the distance and if it wasn’t the noise he stayed up for night after night he wouldn’t have noticed it.

He tries to wrangle out of  his ropes but they’re wound too tight and the trotting noise becomes louder, faster. He looks behind him at the open door and still sees the men sitting around the table drinking, throwing cards on the table, laughing.

So they didn’t hear...not yet. Ian tries again to wrangle free but the rope cuts his arms. He has to do something give some kind of warning he can’t… Ian looks down at the gun, barrel pointed right at him.

A warning, a loud noise. Ian was not going to let Mickey think he betrayed him, not when he could instead save him.

The only thing he was able to do was move his arms to his side, he struggled to speed up the process as he heard the trotting come closer and closer the men growing quieter.

Finally his hands reached the trigger of the gun, his hands dripping with his own blood, though none of that would matter soon.

He looks out the window and he can see Mickey now, though still too far in the distance for Mickey to see him. “I’ll come to thee in the moonlight” he remembers Mickey jokingly saying the day before.

Ian takes one last breath in and whispers an“I love you” to the midnight air. Then pulls the trigger. The gun taking one life and saving another.

The noise of the blast echoes through the Inn and to the outside.

Mickey rides his horse in the night not so patiently waiting to once again be acquainted with Ian tonight. They trot along their usual path, Mickey would make them go faster if they didn’t already have a tiring day. But there will be plenty of time to rest once Mickey gets to the Inn. Finally he sees the Inn in the distance, the lights were on which Mickey thought odd as that never happens unless there’s guests in there which there hasn’t been in months. But Mickey chalks it up to Ian probably still trying to aimlessly clean everything.

They make their way closer and Mickey notices one window, the usually vacant room’s lights were on and there was something in the window. Mickey tries to make it out from the distance but before he could he hears a loud blast coming from the Inn.

His horse freaks out by the sudden noise and goes up on it’s  hind legs desperately trying to turn itself around.

“It’s okay, boy.” MIckey says to his horse. It probably wasn’t even the Inn, maybe the property behind it. Ian doesn’t even have guns in his house or if he did they were locked up. Mickey is about to steer his scared horse to the Inn still but then sees men run out of the Inn coming towards him and Mickey can make them out clearly.

“Shit!” he says. He steers his horse in the opposite direction back to where they came, he kicks behind his horse to get him to move faster and he listens. We’ll check on Ian tomorrow . He tells himself. Thinking how the gunshot must’ve spooked the redhead, he always hated Mickey needed to carry one. “Don’t worry I’ll never use it on someone unless I need to” he had once promised him.

The men struggle to get on their horses to follow the Milkovich boy, 2 fall over, one seemed to still be inside and one by the time he finally gets on his horse Mickey is far in the distance leaving the man no way to catch up.

“Dammit!” The man says getting off his horse just as the man who stayed inside runs out.

“We lost him” he says when the man runs to him. “The kid?” he nudges to the Inn.

The man that came from inside shakes his head. “Dead.”

“Dammit!” The man yells again kicking in the grass. “That was our closest shot.”

“That’s your worry still?,” the other asks. “We just killed an innocent.”

“We didn’t kill him he did that to himself,” he yells back. “And he was hardly innocent.”  He looks at the other men behind him, getting up from the place they fell. “We should get going boys,” he announces. “We want to be gone in case someone comes to investigate the noise.”

“What about the boy?” one of the other men asks dusting off his hands.

“Leave him.”

Mickey makes it to a smaller Inn close to the other side of town, they allow him to keep his horse in their shed for the night. He gets to his room. Exhaustion overtakes his worried mind and he decides to go to sleep. He’ll try to get word to Ian in the morning.

Morning comes and he goes to a nearby tavern for breakfast. As he eats he debates on sending Ian a letter or just making his way back to him after he eats skipping his “job” for the day. He’s about to take the last bite when he hears people talking by him.

“Did you hear?” one woman starts to her friend. “That poor boy stayed there all alone only to die there alone.”

They have Mickey’s attention.

“Oh I know. Terrible thing. No one else was home?”

“No one else. He was shot right through the chest.”

“What about the rest of the family? Do they know?”

“Not sure. They all seemed to have gone separate ways. Just the middle child stayed I suppose.” They go on.

“Wasn’t he illegitimate…”

All this sounds too familiar but maybe it’s just Mickey thinking too much of it. Mickey clears his throat and turns to the lady.

“Excuse me, sorry. What boy?”

“Hmm?”

“The boy you’re talking about.”

“Oh yes. Terrible thing. He died last night.”

The noise. The bang.

“What. Was. The. Boy’s. Name!”

“Oh I’m not sure. He was one of those families on the other side of town. Scottish folks...or no wait Irish?” She turns to her friend and she nods.

“Definitely Irish. Gallaway, Galvin...Gall...uhh”

Mickey swallows hard. “G-Gallagher…?”

“That’s it!” The woman yells pointing to Mickey.

Mickey nearly falls out of his chair his face going sickly white. He gets up and grips his table tight.

“You alright, dear. You look like you’ve seen a g-”

“I ..I have to go.” Mickey steadies himself and makes his way to the door.

“Hey you didn’t pay for your food!” the owner yells.

Mickey stumbles back, taking everything out of his pockets. “Here… I don’t need it anymore.” He places everything on the counter and manages to find his way outside. He grips the wall as he makes his way to the alley way.

He slides down it gripping his head in his hands. “No, no, no,” he repeats softly to himself. “No, no,” he says louder till he’s yelling it, slamming his hands against the brick wall behind him. He punches it till his hands bleeds.

He ignores the questioning onlookers until he notices one coming to him maybe to tell him to move, maybe ask what’s wrong.

He gets up dusts himself off and wipes his now bloody knuckles on his pants.  He walks over to the barn, takes his horse, and walks him out all done robotically, emotionless. He hops on his horse and takes off down the road, to where he knew they would be, the men that were after him and the men that took everything away.

It doesn’t take long for him to find them, all huddled around each other on their redcoats. He doesn’t take his time, he doesn’t stop. He sends him and his horse towards them full speed, takes out his gun and starts shooting. He clips one of the men in the shoulder and he falls down in pain by the time the others take notice Mickey is there in front of them. He knocks the other down as he dismounts from his horse and punches the man beside him in the face knocking him down. He takes out his gun again but didn’t notice the other man unaccounted for. He hears a loud shot not coming from his gun then feels the pain but he doesn’t fall. He turns to his attacker still holding his gun out to him.

“You killed him,” Mickey says to the man, his arm seeping with blood.

The man just grins. “Do you want to know what he said before he died?”

Mickeys breathes in and grits his teeth. “He’s dead and now soon you will be too.”

The man shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” He looks behind Mickey but before Mickey can turn back to look he hears another gunshot and feels more pain. This time the impact making him fall down.

His grip still held onto his gun and despite his stomach burning now he lifts it up.

“Put the gun down kid,” the man in front of him says giving him an evil smile. “It’s over.”

“Why? You’re gonna kill me anyways. Might as well take one of you with me.” He grips his hand on the trigger but due to the impact of the gunshot on his shoulder it’s not tight enough and it’s kicked out of his hand. He watches it fall to the ground and being taken up by the man in front.

He hears the click of the chamber moving and he knows that’s it. The rest is blackness.

The last gunshot rang through the field making the last of the birds flee that stuck around and then it was silent. The young Milkovich boy laid in a pool of his own blood with his hand resting on his heart. One of the men was spooked when he thought he saw a smile spread on the dead boy’s lips minutes after the puddle grew larger.

“What’s that on his hand?” one asks and they look at the gold glistening in the sunlight.

One of the men other grabs his hand and looks at the jewelry. Engraved in the ring are the initials I.G.

“What is it? A ring? Take it.” another says.

“Nah. It’s just some cheap tin. Not worth anything.” The man lays Mickey’s hand back on his chest.

“Lets see what else he’s carrying.” The leader says bending down on the ground.

“Leave it.” he’s told back. “He’s been through enough.”

“He’s dead!”

“Exactly. You got him. You won. Now let him have peace.”

The leader scoffs but lets the body be.

They leave. Each men getting on their respective horses. The leader telling the men they’ll each get their share of the reward soon.

But the thing is.

There wasn’t a reward because there was never a bounty.

The men were never caught and the lovers never given justice.

They say now on a particular cool evening you can hear the faint tots of a horse, some even seeing a dark hooded figure in the distance only to disappear in thin air. It’s also said if you happen to fall upon the long abandoned inn you’ll see the highwayman meeting with his lover once more The love they have for each other uniting them in eternity.

[thelastspeecher]

Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 15: Forty-One Years Later

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11   Chapter 12 Chapter 13   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Chapter 16   AO3

Holy cow guys it’s finally here!  Chapter 15 of “Stan Pines, Farmhand”!  It has been far too long since I’ve updated, and for that I am sorry.  But we’re in the home stretch folks, we’re almost done!  Anyways, in this chapter, Stan gets yelled at by multiple people, Mabel thinks her Great-Aunt Angie is a werewolf, and Emily thinks her Uncle Ford is a bit strange, even for her admittedly odd family.  Enjoy.

July 30, 2012

               Dipper and Mabel were finally in bed.  Stan could hear them moving around upstairs, but at least they’d have a harder time eavesdropping from the attic.  As he talked on the phone in the kitchen, Stan looked outside.  Some sort of bear-thing was chasing gnomes in the backyard.

               Just a normal Monday here in Gravity Falls, he thought tiredly.

               “So I took the kids on a trip to some of the other tourist traps in Oregon,” Stan said.

               “Mm-hmm,” Angie replied, on the other end of the phone.  “This weren’t a ‘business trip’, were it?”

               “I have no clue what ya mean.”

               “Did ya use child labor to ruin yer competition’s places of business?”

               “See, now when ya say it like that, it sounds dirty,” Stan said, slightly put out.  Angie chuckled softly.  

               “Did anythin’ interestin’ happen on this trip?”

               “I almost got eaten by a spider-lady.”

               “A spider-lady?”

               “Yeah.”

               “What was her name?”

               “Why are you interested in knowing her name?”  

               “My college roommate is a spider-person.”

               “Marley?”

               “Yep.”

               “Her name was Darlene.”  There was a shuffle over the phone as Angie apparently shifted her phone from one ear to the other.

               “Ya shoulda told me ya were goin’ to see spider-people.  Darlene is Marley’s cousin.  She prob’ly wouldn’t have tried to eat ya if she knew who ya were.”

               “Dammit.  See, this is why ya need to come back.  Ya get me outta all sortsa sticky situations.”  Angie laughed again.  “Seriously, though, when are ya gettin’ back?”

               “I’ll be in Gravity Falls in a week or so.  I’m in the Augusta airport right now, to head over to California and stay with Harper and Emmett fer a bit.  Emmett’s got that dance recital,” Angie replied.  She paused.  “That’s the boardin’ call.  Real quick, anythin’ else ya wanted to tell me?”

               “Ford’s back,” Stan blurted out.  There was a clatter and shuffling over the line.

               “Sorry ‘bout that,” Angie said.  “I dropped the phone. Now, what did ya just say?”

               “Ford’s back.”

               “An’ how is that even possible?  I thought ya said there wasn’t any way to bring him back.”

               “I lied,” Stan said simply.

               “Fer thirty years?”

               “Yes.”  Stan could practically feel Angie’s anger, even though she was on the other side of the country.  

               “Ya lied to me!”

               “Angie, I-”

               “Ya promised ya would never do that!  Ya know how I feel ‘bout lyin’!”

               “Angie-”

               “Did ya forget what my fam’ly is all about?  It’s ‘bout bein’ open and truthful!  Ya just shit over everythin’ my fam’ly stands for.  Everything your fam’ly stands for.  Yer a McGucket, act like it fer once in-”

               “Angie, listen!”  She went silent.  “Ya remember what happened last time ya got mixed up in Stanford’s weirdness, right? Ya ended up in the hospital fer two weeks.  In a fuckin’ coma fer most of it.  I did it to protect ya.”

               “It don’t matter how noble it was, it’s still wrong.  And yer not goin’ to get off easy.”

               “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”  She was silent for a minute.  “Angie?”

               “We’ll talk when I get back,” she replied shortly and hung up the phone without even saying goodbye.  Stan slammed the phone on the hook.

               “Shit, fuck,” he swore softly.  He ran his hands through his hair.  “Goddammit.”

               “Was that Ma?”  Stan turned around to face the speaker, Emily.

               “Yeah.  It was.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s pissed at me.”

               “Well, duh,” Emily said.  “Ya lied to her for longer than I’ve been alive!”

               “I know, smartass.”

               “Dipper and Mabel aren’t too pleased, either.  Mostly Dipper.  That kid can hold a grudge.”  Emily sighed. “Look, Dad, I’m gonna be honest. Ya messed up.”

               “Don’t need to tell me that,” Stan muttered.

               “You should’ve been tellin’ Ma ‘bout this nonsense from the start!”

               “Look, I don’t need to be scolded by my own kid,” Stan snapped. Emily raised her eyebrows.

               “Wow, that’s mature,” she said sarcastically.  Stan glowered at her.  “I know yer a bit upset, Dad.  And ya don’t like bein’ on bad terms with Ma.”  Emily moved forward.  “She’ll get over it.  But…give her some time.”  Emily wrapped her arms around Stan in a tight hug.  “We all need some time.”  Stan rested his chin on top of her head and squeezed her back in response.

               “Yeah.”

               “I know things didn’t go the way you wanted.  But seriously, it’s just- give Ma some time, give Uncle Ford some time, give Dipper and Mabel some time.  We’ll be back to normal ‘fore ya know it.”  Stan buried his face in his daughter’s caramel-colored hair.

               “When did ya get so smart?” he whispered.  

               “I’ve always been smart.  You know. You were there,” Emily replied. Stan smiled.  “I’m gonna go to bed now.  Night, Dad.”

               “Night, pumpkin.”  Emily broke off the hug and walked away.  A door opened and closed.  Stan looked over at Ford, sitting at the table in the living room.  After a moment, he walked over and took a seat across from his twin.

               “So, you and Angie had another child, then?” Ford asked, once a few minutes had passed.  Stan leaned back in his chair.  Ford tried to not stare, but it was difficult.  He took a drink from his glass of whisky.

               Sweet Moses, it’s strange to see Stan as an old man.

               “Nah, Emily’s mine and Fidds’ kid,” Stan said idly.  Ford coughed in shock, spewing whisky across the table.  Stan grinned. “Gotcha.”

               “Stanley!”

               “You were right.  Emily’s mine ‘n Angie’s.  Third one,” Stan said over Ford’s continued sputters.  “Third outta four, actually.  And, uh, ya might be interested in the fourth one.”  Ford watched curiously as Stan took out a wallet and began to shuffle through it.  “Ah! Here,” Stan said, sliding a picture across the table.  Ford picked it up.  It was of a young man with brown hair, rectangular glasses, and the distinctive McGucket nose. There was a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes that Ford recognized as identical to Stan’s.

               “This is your fourth child?” Ford clarified.  Stan nodded.

               “Yep.  Only son. Emmett.  Emily’s twin.”

               “You had twins twice?  That’s bad luck,” Ford said.  Stan shrugged.  

               “Not so much for me as fer Angie.  I mean, she’s the person what had to give birth to ‘em.  And Emily and Emmett were trouble-makers from the start. Premature, emergency C-section, complications, the whole thing.  Doc said Angie probably shouldn’t have any more kids after they were born.  But we were done anyways.”  

               “I’m sorry to hear that.  It must have been rough,” Ford said softly.  Stan shrugged again.

               “Most of Angie’s siblings, and her Ma and Pa, came up while Angie was recoverin’ from the birth.  Helped out around the house, watched the kids.  Stayed until she was back to normal.”

               “That was very kind of them.”

               “It got old pretty fast, actually.  We practically had to physically remove ‘em from the house.” Stan poured himself a glass of whisky and downed half of it in one swallow.  “But that’s not why I brought up Emmett.  I brought him up ‘cause, well, I think meetin’ him would be helpful fer both of ya.  Mostly him, but hey, it’d be nice for ya, too.  Meetin’ yer nephew.”  

               “Not that I’m disagreeing, but why do you say that?” Ford asked, handing the picture back to Stan.  Stan drummed his fingers on the table and looked away.

               “His full name’s Emmett Stanford McGucket.”  

               “…What?” Ford asked quietly.  Stan sighed.

               “It was Angie’s idea.  I kept tryin’ to push Stanjamin, and then she said that Stanford was barely even a name, and she got that look in her eye, and when that happens, nothin’ ‘ll change her mind.”

               “You named your son after me?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded, still refusing to make eye contact.

               “It’s not like we did it fer no reason, though.  Emmett’s like ya.  But instead of twelve fingers, he’s got twelve toes.”  

               “Oh.  Two of your children are polydactyls?”

               “Yeah.  Apparently, it’s a weird enough thing that Daisy used it for her senior thesis.  She’s a geneticist, y’know.  Right now, she’s back at the farm, tryin’ to breed ‘super crops’ or somethin’ like that.”  A proud smile formed on Stan’s face.  “Smart cookie, that one.  All of ‘em, really.  Don’t know how a knucklehead like me got such bright kids.”

               “What about Danny?  What’s she up to?” Ford asked.  Stan grinned even more broadly.

               “She builds doomsday machines for the government.  Top-secret Pentagon job.  Since she’s so busy, her husband’s a stay-at-home dad.”

               “You have a grandchild?” Ford asked, surprised.  Stan let out a bark of laughter.

               “I’ve got five, Sixer.  And another one on the way.”

               “Really?”

               “Yeah, Danny’s got the triplets and Benji, and then she told us just a couple months ago that she’s havin’ another one.  And Emmett’s got Lucy.  Man, Lucy’s the sweetest little thing.  Her mom left, though, pretty soon after she was born.”  Stan’s smile faded slightly.  “Good thing that Harper and Lute are around to help Emmett with her.”

               “I- I can’t believe you’re a grandfather,” Ford said.  Stan eyed Ford and quirked an eyebrow.  

               “So are you.”  Ford’s heart stopped.

               “What?”

               “Tate’s got a couple kids.  Boy and a girl.  They actually live here, in Gravity Falls.”

               “Is Fiddleford here as well?” Ford asked.  Stan looked away.  

               “That’s, uh, that’s somethin’ you should talk to Angie about.”  Ford stared at Stan.

               “What?  Why?” he asked.  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

               “I don’t wanna get into it.  It’s late.”

               “…I suppose it is.”  Ford took another drink from his glass.  He sighed heavily.  “Stanley. This ‘Mystery Shack’ business has to end.”

               “Figured.”

               “I won’t kick you out tomorrow, or anything like that,” Ford continued, “but I do expect you to leave my house eventually.  The end of the summer, ideally.”

               “I’m not the only person who lives here.”

               “You and Angie can find a place, I’m sure,” Ford said.  Stan scoffed.

               “That’s one hell of a thanks.”

               “…What?”

               “I spend thirty years bringin’ ya back, and ya don’t bother to say ‘Hey, thanks for doin’ that’?  No, all I get is an eviction notice,” Stan said bitterly.

               “Thank you?  Why would I thank you?” Ford demanded.  “You pushed me into that portal, and through your foolhardy, bullheaded stubbornness, you have put the universe in danger by opening it up again!”  Stan stared at him for a few seconds.

               “…Whatever,” Stan said.  He stood up. “Look, Stanford, I- I don’t want ya draggin’ these kids into your bullshit.”

               “What are you talking about?”

               “The same bullshit that ended with ya puttin’ my wife in a coma.  Keep the kids outta it, okay?”

               “I would never-”

               “I don’t care.  I can live without a thank you fer haulin’ yer wrinkly old ass back home.  But I can’t live with you hurtin’ my fam’ly.”

               “They’re my family as well.”

               “Never stopped ya before,” Stan shot back.  He left the room huffily.  Ford watched him leave, fighting the temptation to call out after him. His gaze dropped down to the table, where he could see his reflection in the dregs of his drink.

               “Welcome back, Stanford Pines,” he muttered idly.

----- 

July 31, 2012

               Stan walked into the kitchen.  Dipper, Mabel, and Emily looked up from their breakfast.

               “About time ya got up, old man,” Emily said.  “I had to get these gremlins breakfast without ya.”  Stan didn’t respond, instead squinting at something in his hand.  “Uh, what are you doin’?”

               “Yer ma sent me a picture,” Stan said.  “But I can’t unlock it.”  Emily sighed.

               “Dad, ya don’t ‘unlock’ picture messages.”

               “I can’t see it, though.”

               “Lemme see.”  Emily snatched the thing out of Stan’s hand.  “Can’t use a dang phone, but ya can build a death machine in the basement,” she muttered.  Mabel and Dipper frowned.

               “That’s a phone?” Mabel asked.  Emily nodded.

               “There’s no way that’s a phone,” Dipper said.  

               “Ma made him get one a while back,” Emily said, clicking buttons.  “He doesn’t do anything with it.  Just keeps it around so my ma and siblings can get a hold of him.”  She rolled her eyes.  “He even uses a default ringtone.”

               “That should be a crime,” Mabel said.

               “Agreed,” Emily said.  She handed the phone back to Stan.  “Here ya go. Looks like she met up with Emmett and Uncle Harper.”

               “You have siblings?” Dipper asked.  Emily nodded and took another bite of her cereal.

               “Oh, yeah.  I’ve got three.  Two older, one younger.”  She squinted at Dipper.  “How did ya not know that?”

               “It’s not like he tells us anything,” Mabel said.  “Except for like, ‘Touch that and you owe me thirty bucks!’”

               “I forget all the time that he’s married,” Dipper added.  Emily grabbed Stan’s phone from him again.

               “Hey!” Stan barked.  Emily clicked a few buttons, then turned the phone’s screen to face her cousins.

               “That’s my ma, my twin brother Emmett, and my Uncle Harper,” Emily said, pointing out her family members.  Mabel gasped.

               “Your mom’s so pretty!”

               “Yeah, she’s pretty much outta Dad’s league,” Emily said nonchalantly. Stan squinted at his daughter.

               “Watch it, kid.”  Emily stuck her tongue out in response.  Stan playfully whapped her over the head with his newspaper, eliciting a chortle from her. She handed back the phone.

               “But see, Dad, I told ya Ma would start feelin’ a bit better.  She just needed some time to deal with the lyin’.” Stan shook his head.  “What?”

               “She sent me one of those word messages, too.”

               “Text,” Mabel supplied helpfully.  Stan frowned at her.

               “Stop makin’ noise just to make noise.  Too early fer that.”

               “What did Ma say?” Emily asked.

               “Somethin’ ‘bout how they’re goin’ to get toffee peanuts from place I like in San Diego.”

               “That’s good!”

               “And eat all of ‘em.”  Stan huffed. “And Harper’s still gonna record Emmett’s performance, but keep the tape.  I don’t get to watch it.”

               “Oh.  Yeesh.” Emily looked over at Mabel and Dipper. “Ma can be a bit savage sometimes.”

               “That’s probably because she’s secretly a werewolf,” Mable said confidently. Emily blinked.

               “What?”

               “Yeah, Mabel thinks Grunkle Stan’s wife has to be a werewolf or something,” Dipper said.

               “Okay, but seriously, what kind of person would Grunkle Stan marry?” Mabel asked.  “I think a wolf-lady is a perfect match for someone like him.  Or like, a mountain woman.”

               “So, basically, someone half-wild,” Emily said, amused.  Stan grunted.  “I could see that.”

               “Cool it, squirt,” Stan said warningly.  Emily propped her elbows on the table.

               “What about you, Dipper?  What’re yer thoughts?”

               “Some sorta cat burglar or thief or scammer or something,” Dipper said. Emily laughed.  

               “Did ya bother to ask Soos or Wendy what she’s like?” Stan grumbled. Dipper and Mabel shook their heads.

               “That takes all the fun out of it, Grunkle Stan!  And anyways, it’s so obvious that she’s a werewolf.”

               “If she is, she hasn’t told me,” Stan said, shuffling out of the kitchen.

               “I’ll give you two a hint,” Emily said.  “If my ma was ‘round, there’s no way that Dad woulda been able to keep up his ‘Gravity Falls is normal’ façade.  Like, if ya mentioned seein’ Bigfoot’s footprint, she’d say somethin’ like ‘Well, of course he’s real, I had lunch with him last Wednesday.’”

               “Well, yeah,” Mabel said.  “Bigfoot is so the type to have lunch with werewolves.”  Emily beamed at her cousins.

               “I like you kids.”  

               “Aw, shucks,” Mabel said, waving a hand airily.

               “Good morning, children.”  Emily, Dipper, and Mabel all looked over.  Ford stood in the entryway of the kitchen.  

               “Howdy, Uncle Ford!” Emily chirped.  “You just missed the big discussion about how I’m apparently half wolf.”

               “No, you’d be a quarter wolf, if your mom was a werewolf,” Dipper corrected. “Werewolves are half wolf. Y’know, ‘wolf-man’.  Half wolf, half man.”

               “Ah, okay,” Emily said with a nod.  “I’m apparently only 25% wolf.”

               “Hmm.  Very well, then,” Ford muttered, walking over to the fridge.  He opened it and peered inside.

               “Dad needs to go shoppin’, so there’s not much here,” Emily said.  

               “Thank you for informing me,” Ford said.  He walked back out of the kitchen.  Emily frowned.

               “What’s his deal?”

               “He’s the author, he’s allowed to be eccentric,” Dipper said.

               “I mean, most people in my fam’ly are a bit odd,” Emily said slowly. “But…”  She shook her head.  “Never mind. You two wanna go get Soos and play some squirt gun wars?”

               “Yes!” Mabel cheered, jumping out of her chair.  Dipper continued to look in the direction Ford had left.

               “…Dipper?” Emily asked.  Dipper looked back at her.

               “Huh?”

               “Squirt gun wars with Soos sound like fun?”

               “Oh, yeah,” he said.  

               “Go get dressed, then, kidlets,” Emily said.  Dipper and Mabel left the kitchen.  Emily frowned thoughtfully.  “Seems like Uncle Ford has a fan.”  She began to clear the dishes from the table.  “From what I’ve heard ‘bout him, that won’t end well.”

----- 

August 14, 2012

               The front door of the Mystery Shack slammed open.  

               “Here we go,” Wendy said quietly.  A short, middle-aged woman stormed into the Gift Shop and came to a stop in front of Stan. Stan eyed her cautiously.  She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

               “Aww,” Mabel cooed.  Angie stroked Stan’s face.

               “I missed ya,” she whispered.  Stan smiled at her.

               “Missed you too.”  After a few moments of gazing lovingly at her husband, Angie promptly switched to glaring at him.

               “You lied to me?!” she shouted.  

               “There it is,” Stan muttered.  Angie crossed her arms.

               “You lied, Stanley Pines.  Fer thirty years.  I ain’t pleased.”

               “Look-”

               “Ya didn’t just lie to me, even.  Ya lied to everyone in yer entire fam’ly!  Ya said Stanford was dead.”

               “Yeah, it’s good news, the whole ‘him not actually being dead’ thing.  Why aren’t ya happy?”

               “Happy?!”  Angie stood on her tiptoes again, to peer into his face easier.  “I’m too upset with ya to be happy.  I thought Ford was dead.  We mourned.  We accepted it.  We moved on.”

               “That’s what you want to hear,” Ford mumbled.  Angie held up a hand, still glaring intensely at her husband.

               “I’ll get to you in a minute, Stanford,” she snapped.  “Stanley, I don’t want to sleep in the same bed as someone who lied fer longer than my two youngest children have been alive.  Yer goin’ to spend a few nights on the couch, understand?”  Stan glared at her.  She met his gaze with hardened eyes.  After a few tense moments, he finally sighed.

               “Fine.”

               “She is a werewolf!” Mabel gasped. Angie blinked.

               “What?”  She turned around.  “Oh, howdy, lil ones.”

               “I was right, you are a werewolf!” Mabel said.  Angie frowned.  

               “What makes ya say that, sugar-cube?”

               “Well, it just makes sense.”

               “Is it ‘cause I told off my husband?”

               “Basically,” Mabel said.  Angie chuckled and crouched down to Mabel’s eye height.

               “Aren’t you the charmer.  No, I’m not a werewolf.  The mailman, on the other hand…”

               “I knew it!” Soos shouted from a room over.

               “What’s yer name, cutie?” Angie asked.

               “Mabel!  And he’s my twin, Dipper!” Mabel said eagerly, grabbing Dipper, who made a small squeak.  Angie beamed.

               “Well then, looks like I’m yer Great-Aunt Angie!”

               “You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Dipper said.  Angie chuckled again.  

               “I get that a lot.  But I’m sorry ya had to see all that.  I shouldn’t yell in front of kidlets.  Ain’t right.”

               “I don’t mind, Dr. Angie,” Wendy put in.  “I kinda like it when you tear Mr. Pines a new one.”  Mabel gasped suddenly, as an idea occurred to her.

               “Can we call you Grangie?” she asked.  Angie blinked.

               “No,” she said flatly, “only my grandkids are allowed to call me that.” She winked at Mabel.  “Ya can still call me yer Grauntie Angie, though. But most kids ‘round here just call me Dr. Angie, like Wendy does.”

               “I’ll take it!” Mabel said.  Angie grinned and stood up to her full height.  She took a breath.  “Stanford.” It was a statement, not a summons. Ford looked up.  Angie stepped forward, her hands shaking, and twisting her wedding ring.  “Ya- ya have to understand,” she said quietly and calmly, in a steady voice that belied her body language.  “It’s like seein’ a ghost.”  Angie’s hair had slightly faded, and had a couple silver streaks through it, but the only other sign that she had aged were the extensive laughter lines on her face.

               She lived a good life, then.  The woman standing before him, waiting for him to speak, seemed different than the one he remembered.  And learned to be patient, apparently.

               “Age mellowed you,” he said finally.  Angie’s eyes widened.  She laughed.

               “Ya think I’m mellow?  Did ya not just hear me yell at my husband?”  Ford smiled half-heartedly.

               “Point taken.  By the way, I’m eager to meet the rest of your children.  I’ve only become well acquainted with Emily,” Ford said.  He looked down at his feet.  “I also, uh…could you give me Fiddleford’s address?” He looked up again in time to watch Angie’s face break.  “What?”

               “Stan didn’t tell ya?”

               “Tell me what?”

               “About Fiddleford.”  A heavy feeling, like he’d swallowed a brick of lead, settled in Ford’s stomach.

               “What about Fiddleford?”  Angie looked around.

               “He- he don’t know ya no more,” she said quietly.  Ford’s heart stopped.

               “What?  That’s- that’s-”

               “Not true anymore,” Dipper put in.  Angie and Ford looked over at their nephew.  Dipper cleared his throat, slightly startled by unexpectedly being in the spotlight.  “He’s- we figured out that he built the laptop in the bunker, and then we figured out that he founded the Blind Eye Society, and we found all his missing memories and-”

               “Did ya tell Stan all this?” Angie interrupted.  Dipper shook his head.

               “No.  He pretended like he didn’t even know Gravity Falls was supernaturally weird until after we almost got eaten by zombies.”

               “Eaten by-”  Angie looked over at Stan, who was grumpily buffing one of the snow globes. “Stanley, what on Earth happened?”

               “Nothin’.  They’re fine, aren’t they?” Stan said.

               “Emily took pictures,” Mabel said.  “I know because I asked her to send them to me.”

               “Pictures of what?” Angie asked.

               “Us fighting off zombies with the power of song!” Mabel enthused. Angie rubbed her forehead.

               “Son of a-”  She took a breath.  “Stanley, what all have these children done this summer?”

               “Heck if I know.  They’re always gallivantin’ around, solvin’ mysteries or whatever,” Stan muttered.

               “Ya don’t know what- yer supposed to be watchin’ ‘em!”

               “Hey, do they have any bites or missin’ limbs?  I did a fine job watchin’ ‘em!” Stan protested.  Angie crossed her arms.

               “I was hopin’ to hold off on the full argument fer a bit.  But I don’t think I can.  Bedroom.  Now.” Angie looked over at Ford.  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten ‘bout scoldin’ you, Stanford.  Yer next.” With that, she followed Stan out of the Gift Shop.  Wendy chuckled.

               “Good luck with that, Stan Two.”

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 11 – Orange Sportsball Gets The Fuck Real

In which the Foxes play their first match of the season, I have questions about American college sports, my Percy Jackson obsession has a brief cameo, and I’m sadly less excited about Actual Sportsball Games than I should be.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

           Thursday’s excitement had nothing on Friday’s. The whole school got decked out overnight with vibrant orange and white streamers. Ribbons and banners hung off every sidewalk lamp. Live student bands took over the amphitheater for short concerts and the student newspaper released that morning gave details for the afternoon parade.

Is that, like…………. Normal behavior on game days?? Actual American high school/college students, please confirm. Is this an actual thing???

I mean, I know y’all are big on sports and school spirit, but this big??

Please understand my confusion: At my school, no one fucking gave a shit about the sports teams. I didn’t even know when anyone had games/competitions unless we got told afterwards who won what brilliant award now, and even then like 5% of us cared. And I can’t speak for my uni yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same there as well. Do German unis even have sports teams?

I always liked to make fun of High School Musical 3 for having those giant ass banners displaying the athletes hanging in the halls. I am now starting to realize that might be perfectly normal for American schools.

What the fuck.

Also, Neil officially came out now – as a member of the Foxes, that is, of course.

           Neil wanted to cut class and hide at Fox Tower until game time, but athletes weren’t allowed to call out without a legitimate medical excuse. Someone from the athletics committee went around all day counting heads through classroom windows, and Wymack would be the first to hear Neil was absent.

They seriously stalk their students all day in fear they might be skipping class? And these students are in college, they are grown adults, not 14-year-olds. Again, is this a thing, what the fuck??

Then again, we’re talking about the country who invented hall passes. This is probably not the craziest thing around.

Fortunately, the Foxes decide to display their first sign of group solidarity in these trying times and guide Neil from class to class. This is a really small detail, but I love it.

I’m imagining Neil as a lil baby duck who obediently follows a big spikey-haired Matt duck, a small white-pastel-y Renee duck or a glamorous blonde Allison duck, wagging behind them in a tiny duck-sized jersey.

Although, when you think about it, they’re all just lil baby ducks following a big Wymack momma duck.

(Someone draw me fanart, I’m BEGGING YOU.)

I’m getting off track. Back to the plot.

           Andrew hadn’t lied to Neil back in May. In almost every article that talked of Neil’s pathetic experience Kevin was quoted as having high hopes for him. Kevin really had said that Neil would one day be Court.

Because this is the second time this has come up: What exactly does “being Court” mean?? Like, being Captain? Being MVP? Also, is this a regular sports expression or is is Exy-exclusive? Exyclusive?? Help.

A small silver lining of future hilariousness appears on the horizon: An Exy kickoff banquet is going to happen sometime in the next few chapter, and I am HYPED. This chaotic mess of a team + all their rivals + dates + drinks can only equal a Massive Fun Time™.

Fun for us, not for them, might I add. I am dying to see this.

           “[Renee] hasn’t asked [Andrew] yet, but it’s inevitable. (…) Money’s on the table as to whether or not he says yes. Pot’s getting pretty big, so get your bet in fast.”

           The only thing the Foxes had in common besides Exy and hardship was their strange obsession with betting on the stupidest things. Neil had figured that out only two weeks into practice. A week didn’t go by when there wasn’t money on something or another.

A team after my own heart <3 Can I join? I can never find anyone to bet on dumb things in my own circle of friends.

Will I throw this piece of paper in the bin on my first shot? Will the bus be late? Will Friend A and B hook up tonight? Will I lose my (nonexistent) emotional sanity to this series before the last book is over?

I don’t know about the others, but the last one is 100% happening.

           “There’s something we haven’t told you yet,” Dan said. (…) “So Andrew’s technically legally required to take his medication, right? (…) He struck a bargain of his own with Coach. The only reason he signed with us is because Coach agreed to let him come off his drugs for game nights.”

Is this supposed to come as a big plot twist? Because I kind of saw that coming. 10 bucks says Andrew comes off his meds for all Important Moments.

*insert yet another rant about the negative portrayal of mental health meds as barbaric mind-numbing, mania-inducing ~happy pills~ here*

Anyways, back to game day!! Our beloved foxy nutcases are playing against the Breckenridge Jackals, which is shaping up to be a Fun Time™ as they are apparently the biggest bullies around (second only to the Edgar Allan Murder Mob Clique, of course).

However, when faced with his impending wipe-out on the court, our favourite Sassmaster McSavage reaches new levels of Hell Fuckin Yeah:

           “[Gorilla] will break every bone in your body if you give him the chance.”

           “Don’t worry, though,” Matt said. “He’ll probably be too busy killing Kevin and Seth to notice you.”

           “This is my reassured face,” Neil said, pointing up at his blank expression.

SAVAGE.

I actually laughed so hard at that. This is some Percy Jackson level of sass right there.

Come to think about it, I want the entire AFTG series narrated by Percy Jackson, especially the chapter titles.

“I Am Offered A Foxy Deal”

“My Troubled Past Comes Back To Haunt My Ass”

“I Get Dragged Into Some Gay Shit”

“We Kick Serious Jackal Butt, Sort Of”

Remind me to make a full post of that once I’ve finished the series.

Off topic again. Sorry.

Before we finally begin the actual match (and wow, it’s 1.1k words already), Nicky seems to finally get the mental slaps I’ve been sending him since a few chapters ago:

           Nicky looked at Neil. “Hey,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk after… Well. I wanted to say sorry, but I kept chickening out. Are we okay?”

           “I don’t know yet,” Neil said.

           Nicky weighed that for a minute, then sighed and said, “Fair enough.”

Deep sigh. Who are we kidding, I can never resist a self-aware comic relief, Nicky, you’re still one of my faves. At least he knows he fucked up.

And now, finally: It’s Orange Sportsball time!!

Time for fast-paced sports action, balls flying, racquets hitting, body-checks left and right, a flurry of energy and emotion… that I simply can’t get behind.

I’m sorry, you guys, but I found myself having to double- and triple-read passages here in order to keep up with who is standing where, who is passing to whom and just generally what exactly is going on. Maybe it has to do with my own lack of interest for any sports involving balls (or actually any sports that isn’t dance, cheer, or anything involving performance), but I’m not really excited about this whole game part, to put it mildly.

Don’t get me wrong: I am loving the emotions attached to it. Solidarity, passion, group dynamics and character development shown on the field, give me all that good shit. I just couldn’t care less about who’s passing to who. Forgive me.

Did someone say passion and group dynamics?

           Neil’d watched his teammates fall apart to in-fighting all summer long, but now he finally saw them as a whole. As much as the Foxes disliked each other at times, they disliked their opponents more. They were still too fractured to be truly great, but they were good enough to give him chills.

This is shaping up to be good, you guys.

I can only imagine the sheer gloriousness in the upcoming books when Kandreil finally get their shit together and play on the field as a beautiful unstoppable three-way killing machine. I WILL DIE.

Twenty minutes into the game, Seth is crushed against a wall by three hundred pounds of pure douchebaggery – and I actually do feel sorry for him, not gonna lie – which means it’s time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for:

           “Going on for Seth Gordon is freshman Neil Josten, number ten, of Millport, Arizona.”

           Neil wondered if casket lids sounded like court doors being shut.

Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, even in the face of impending doom, how incredibly extra our boy Josten is.

           “A national champion and an amateur? South Carolina’s gotten even crazier than usual.”

           “An amateur and a cripple, you mean,” the dealer said.

           Andrew slammed his racquet against the goal, making several athletes jump and drawing more than a few wary looks his way.

This is such a small detail but it’s the /best/. Nobody insults my boyfriends in front of me, fuckface.

Bla bla bla more sports bla bla, I’m putting everything remotely interesting that’s happening in a bullet list because let’s be honest, it’s not fucking much.

Neil scores! Twice! Good boy.

Matt takes a card for the team by punching the fuck out of Gorilla, what a babe.

Also, his mom is a professional boxer? When can we meet her. I’m always a sucker for strong women who could kick my ass.

Gorilla has been hitting Kevin’s hand on purpose all the time, which is not cool, yet not surprising, ain’t no honour in Exy injuries, apparently.

That is it, my dudes.

Writing the next chapter on a coach (yet again) as I’ll be visiting some friends in NRW, so I’ll be coming to you live from my Prime Flixbus Office Space, let’s see how that works out. Till next time, ily all. <3