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buckleyblueyes · 3 years

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Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #my fan fiction

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years

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Just Like A Woman - Part 3

A Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.6K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @moon-stars-soul, @im-an-adult-ish, @ixchel-9275, @jennyggggrrr, @zyanmaik, @mypassionfortrash, @a19103, @madeinheavxn, @beepbeephardy, @lizawritesthings, @qweenly, @blisshemmings, @seasidecrowbar, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone, @takemetoneverland420, @coffeexcigarette, @lookuptotheskiesandsee, @thatpunkmaximoff, @angelkissys, @rocknroll-stolemyass, @simonedk, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit, @joseph-mozzerella, @theprettyandthereckless, @flick-ofthe-wrist, @johndeaconshands, @rogerandhiscar, @queenmaracasandlove, @sunflower-ben, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99 If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: More pining and drama, of course, loves <3

Warning(s): Mentions of homophobia

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3 here we go!!!

That night, Mark came over after his shift. Even though it was late, you wanted to talk to him about things. You still felt bad about forgetting your anniversary, especially since it was the first one, but you felt you had apologized enough. Now, there was the underlying issue of his feeling that you didn’t care as much as him.

If you were being honest with yourself, he was right. Mark took the relationship seriously. He was always looking toward the future. You never had thoughts like this. You never thought about marrying him or having kids with him. But in fairness to him, you didn’t see that with anybody. Not since Roger left you.

When Mark came through your door, he looked at you and then at the ground.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long to hear from me,” he said earnestly. “I was angry, and I wanted to punish you. It was immature and I apologize.”

“Apology accepted,” you told him, and he looked up. “Now, can we talk some more?”

“Sure,” he said.

You both went to the couch. He sat beside you. A long moment passed as you waited for him to speak. you knew he had something on his mind, but he was hesitating to say it.

“Y/N, I…” he began, trailing off. “I think we should get counseling.”

You blinked, surprised. “Counseling? I thought that was just for married couples.”

“No, it’s for any two people in any kind of relationship,” he said. “I just think it would be beneficial to us to have a third party as a mediator. I think there’s a lot between us that needs work, and I’m not sure we can handle it just the two of us.”

“Mark, I dunno,” you said. “This is just a bump in the road, don’t you think? We haven’t been together very long, so -”

“We’ve been together a year, Y/N, that’s long enough,” he cut across you. “I realize that it’s a blip compared to your relationship with Roger Taylor, but he had the advantage of knowing you since childhood.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” you said.

“Speaking of which, with him back in your life, I think that’s another reason to get counseling,” he said. “It could be really helpful to you. Y’know get closure so you can move on.”

“If we’re getting couples counseling, I’m not talking about Roger,” you said firmly.

“Y/N, I think it’s important,” he insisted. “There’s damage from that which affects our relationship.”

“No, there isn’t,” you returned stubbornly.

“Yes, there is, and you know it,” he went on. “I think the sooner we break through that, the sooner you and I will be on the right track.”

“Alright,” you sighed. “We’ll get counseling if it’s important to you.”

“It is,” he said. “Thank you.”

He didn’t stay the night. Mark was quite sentimental about sex, and since things were still on edge, he didn’t want to stay over. It made sense to you, and since you didn’t feel much like making love to him either, you didn’t argue. Then you went to bed, already dreading the therapy that awaited you.

In the morning, you had meetings with both Miss Thomas and Mr. Broome. You were counting down the minutes until lunch when you would get a break from the ridiculousness.

Miss Thomas met with the man she was suing, who said that he had thought about having sex with her because she was beautiful, but he asserted that he had never acted on his feelings. Any looks or body language were unintentional, and he appeared genuinely sorry to have caused her discomfort. You tried to bargain for a settlement, but his lawyer refused, saying - quite factually - that you had no case. Miss Thomas refused to back down, and with a heavy sigh, you set a court date.

Your meeting with Mr. Broome was much more productive. His wife and her lawyer were amicable, but their thought was that Mr. Broome was merely trying to avoid alimony. It came out that the wife had also gotten a nose job in the time she was dating him, and had not disclosed it, so you felt like you might have something. Given Mr. Broome’s staunch religious values as well - which his wife claimed to share - there was a bit more to this case. Another court date was set, and you looked forward to the debate of this one.

After the meeting, Mr. Broome followed you to your office. He seemed a bit flustered as he stood in the doorway.

“Did you have a question?” you asked. “I know there’s no certainty, but if we argue well enough, the judge may very well grant the annulment.”

“I know, and believe me, I trust you,” he said. “I just wanted to...well, I wanted to say that...I….”

“It’s best to speak quickly, Frank, I don’t have much time,” you urged.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he blurted out. “I know it’s not right since I’m your client, but I just wanted to know if I could ask you to dinner.”

Your whole body froze with shock. Your mouth fell open.

“Oh…” you said. “Mr. Broome, you’re right it isn’t appropriate, and I’m actually in a relationship.”

“Is it serious?” he asked.

“Somewhat,” you replied. “We are exclusive, but -”

“I can win you over,” he said. “I’m a nice guy. I know the ex-wife thing might scare you off, but I-”

“Mr. Broome, we don’t even have the same values,” you cut across him. “You’re a deeply religious person, and you should know that I’m not. It could never work between us.”

He looked away, dejected.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “But I’m just not interested. Even if I was single.”

His eyes snapped to yours, a frightening determination in them. It actually made you jump.

“I’ll change your mind, Y/N,” he said. “Just you wait.”

With that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the office. You watched him disappear into the elevator.

“Oh, boy,” you said to yourself.

At lunch, Mark called you and told you he’d found a therapist and had set an appointment for later in the week. You did your best to sound enthusiastic about it, but you were sure it wasn’t convincing.

In the afternoon, your meeting with Roger and Dominique was looking like the light at the end of the tunnel. Even though it had the most potential to get emotional since it was about the kids. Everyone arrived on time as you entered the conference room. Just as you were about to take your seat, Jane came hurtling into the room.

“Gracious, Jane, what’s the matter?” you asked.

“It’s Mr. Broome,” she said. “She just called and said he’s on his way up to surprise you.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned.

“Who’s Mr. Broome?” Roger wondered.

“Another client,” you told him. “Apparently, he realized he’s got a crush on me and now he’s trying to woo me or something.”

“Tell him you have a boyfriend,” he suggested.

“I tried that,” you said. “He said he’s still going to try and win me over. I guess his religion isn’t the only thing he’s crazy about.”

“He’s really religious?” questioned Dominique.

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s actually a big part of his case.”

“I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Jane, Y/N and I are going to her office. When Mr. Broome gets here, let him in, but talk loudly so we can hear you through the door.”

“What are we going to do?” you wondered.

“Trust me,” she said.

With that, she got up, took your hand, and led you back to your office. Curious, Roger and Tim followed, but stood by at Jane’s desk so they wouldn’t disrupt. Dominique closed the door. You waited with your ears trained on the door. Finally, you heard Jane’s voice getting steadily closer. When she was just feet from the door, Dominique looked at you.

“Kiss me,” she said.

“What?!” you returned.

“Just do it!”

She cupped your face and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around her waist and held her close, moving your lips with hers. The door opened, but you both ignored it and continued kissing.

“Y/N!” cried the shocked voice of Mr. Broome.

You and Dom jumped apart, turning quickly to see your audience. Mr. Broome, who had dropped the massive bouquet he was holding; Jane, a wide grin on her face; Roger and Tim, with their mouths hanging open; and finally Bill, who was frozen to the spot. A file he’d been holding fell onto the floor with a flop.

“Mr. Broome, I -”

“I don’t believe this,” he spat. “You said you were in a relationship, but I could imagine that you were - well - one of them!”

“Them?” you wondered.

“The homosexuals!” he cried.

You looked between him and Dominique, who was covering her mouth with her hand to disguise her amusement.

“Well, I - yes,” you said, squaring your shoulders. “I’m a lesbian and this woman here is my lover.”

“I don’t approve of homosexuality,” he returned. “I cannot pursue a courtship with you.”

“Oh,” you returned, feigning disappointment. “Well, I hope you are not so disgusted that I can no longer represent you.”

“I…” he stopped, considering it. “I suppose it would be discriminatory to fire you. You may represent me, Miss Y/L/N, but that is all.”

“Thank you, Frank,” you said, biting back a giggle. “That’s very understanding of you.”

“I’ll, um, see you next week, then,” he said.

Head down, he shoved through the people in the doorway and left. You and Dominique looked at each other, and she burst out laughing.

“What the hell just happened?!” Bill demanded. “If there were going to be girls kissing in my law firm I should have known about it!”

“It’s a long story, Bill,” you replied. “And we’ve got a meeting to get to. Tim, Rog, back to the conference room.”

“Oh, we’re supposed to carry on like normal after you just snogged my wife?!” Roger challenged, regaining his composure at last.

“Hey, I was just going along with it, Dom’s the one who used tongue,” you teased.

“I did not!” Dominique chuckled.

“Pardon me, but I’m not comfortable with what just took place or with the continuing conversation,” Tim added. “We’re supposed to be discussing custody today.”

“Right, apologies for the distraction,” you said. “But in fairness, I’ve been trying to get you all back in the conference room.”

Leaving Bill stricken, the four of you did just that. After Roger had recovered from the sight of his ex-girlfriend kissing his soon-to-be ex-wife, the conversation about custody went surprisingly well. Both Roger and Dominique agreed she should have primary custody, and that Roger was welcome to see them as often as he liked. On paper, you and Tim worked out that custody was split evenly between the parents depending on needs and schedules. It seemed that when it came to the children, the couple were in agreement for what was best for them.

“Well, that went remarkably well,” you said, closing up the file. “Thanks for your cooperation, Dominique. And thanks again for getting me out of the sights of Mr. Broome.”

“I owed you one anyway,” she said. “And as for the paperwork, Roger and I have almost always agreed when it comes to the kids.”

“That’s true,” Roger said.

You grabbed your things from the table as Dom and Tim left the room, exchanging polite goodbyes. You were alone with Roger.

“So,” he said. “How long have you and Mark been together?”

“A year,” you told him.

“I see,” he replied. “Getting serious?”

“Somewhat,” you said. “He wants us to get counseling.”

“Counseling?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I think he feels like there’s an imbalance and he wants to work through it.”

“That sounds like a serious relationship, Y/N,” he said. “Do you love him?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“Maybe?” he questioned.

“I dunno, Rog, I feel like it’s still early,” you returned. “We’re gonna try this counseling thing out and see how it goes. He’s said that he loves me, but it’s not something I’ve said back.”

“Then he’s not wrong about the imbalance,” he said.

“Oh, do go on, Doctor Taylor,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Because love is just such an easy feeling to identify.”

“Did you ever question it with me?” he wondered.

That made you pause. You looked at him for a long moment.

“No,” you said softly. “Not once.”

A beat passed.

“But that’s different,” you added, looking away and heading for the door.

“How is it different?” he demanded, following you.

You marched to your office. He went in behind you and closed the door. You dropped your books onto your desk and faced him again.

“It’s different, Roger, because I knew you since we were children,” you snapped. “You were a scrawny little six-year-old shivering in my parents’ gardening shed.”

He smiled fondly. “I remember. But how does that make it any different?”

“Because we didn’t have to try,” you said. “Loving you came as easily to me as walking or breathing. There was none of that nonsense that comes with dating. We just...were.”

“Being neighbors certainly helped,” he joked.

You laughed a little. “It certainly did.”

A very pregnant pause happened as you looked at each other and recalled those days. Your muscle memory told you to lean in and kiss him, but you resisted. This was not the same neighbor boy you once knew. Whose kisses were sweet and warm. With no taste of the world of rock n’ roll. Whose eyes shone bright with hope despite his hardships. Whose smile was cheeky and fun.

This was Roger Taylor, drummer of Queen, husband to Dominique Beyrand, and father to Felix and Rory. You were sure his kisses tasted of cigarettes and alcohol. And lipstick that did not belong to you. There were fewer sparkles in those blue irises. And the smile, well….

“It’s the same,” you said aloud, without realizing.

“What?” he returned, brow furrowing.

“Your smile,” you told him. “It hasn’t aged a day.”

“What made you think of that?” he wondered.

“Nothing,” you said with a slight shake of your head, eyes still fixed on his.

Just as another lull came over you, Jane poked her head in the door.

“Y/N, we’re all heading to the bar - oh!” she gasped when she saw that Roger was still with you. “You can come too, if you like, Mr. Taylor.”

“No!” you cried, making Roger and Jane look at you. You cleared your throat. “I mean, I’m sure Roger is busy.”

“Actually, I’m free tonight,” he said slyly. “I’d love to come. Thank you, Jane.”

“Sure,” she replied huskily.

“Thank you, Jane,” you sneered, striding over and closing the door on her.

“You’re awfully short with your assistant,” he observed.

“Well, if she wasn’t such a...a….”

“Slut,” Jane finished from the other side of the door.

Roger snickered as you wrenched it open.

“Thank you, Jane,” you said severely. “We will meet you at the bar, but you can go.”

“Snappish,” she replied gently, straightening her purse on her shoulder before walking toward the elevator.

You watched her get inside and made sure the doors closed. Then you sighed and faced Roger again.

“We are supposed to remain attorney and client,” you reminded him harshly. “Why would you agree to come?”

“So that I can ask you to dance,” he said. “And we can talk. Or maybe I could just...hold you in my arms one more time.”

You softened, stunned by the outright admission. You found your defenses rising against the damage you knew he could cause.

“Why, have you forgotten what it feels like?” you challenged.

“No,” he said firmly. “That’s why I’ve missed it so much.”

You weakened further. How did he have this hold on you?

“One dance,” you said. “But nothing more.”

“Alright, then,” he said, flashing that smile.

For a fleeting moment, he was the young man you knew. That was the hold on you.

He helped you into your coat as you got your things for the night. Then you started toward the elevator. As you walked, you noticed Roger’s hand twitched toward yours before he quickly recoiled it. It was a subtle movement, but you caught it. Especially after his cheeks flushed. You decided to let him off the hook. Going down that road was no easier for you.

When you arrived at the bar, your co-workers were thrilled that your famous client had joined them for the evening. You had heard people whispering about you and Roger Taylor, and you were sure that Jane had already spilled that the two of you used to date. Luckily, you had disclosed to no one at work that Roger was your first and probably greatest love of your life.

“How about that dance?” he asked before you had the chance to sit down.

“Sure,” you said, since the song they were playing was upbeat.

To your dismay, that song was ending. As you and Roger reached the floor, the band was changing to a slower song. You held back a groan.

“See the pyramids along the Nile,” the singer began. “Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle. Just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me.”

Roger opened his arms to you and you walked into them. He politely took one hand and placed his free one on your waist. Your free hand went to his shoulder. You held him at bay by keeping several inches between you as you began to sway to the slow melody.

“How did you and Mark meet?” he asked.

“At work,” you said. “Bill was defending him in a lawsuit, and he saw me across the office and asked me out.”

“Romantic,” he said, and you detected a hint of bitterness there.

“A bit, yeah,” you said. “I really didn’t take it too seriously. I thought we’d never have time for each other in our jobs, but here we are, a year later.”

“In therapy,” he reminded you.

“Lots of successful couples go to therapy,” you argued.

Though you weren’t in love with the idea, Roger’s disparagement annoyed you more.

He laughed. “It’s just a bit soon to need it. You don’t even love him.”

“Listen to me, Roger Taylor,” you said. “Do not presume to know my feelings. If I want you to know them, I’ll share them with you.”

A moment of silence passed between you. You wracked your brain for something to say because silence used to lead to other, more complicated things.

“So, how’d you meet Dominique?” you wondered.

“After tour,” he told you. “It was pretty early on, we had just gotten back from touring with Mott the Hoople, I think.”

You froze.

“Roger,” you said darkly when his eyes questioned you. “Are you seriously telling me that you ended things with me to sow your wild oats, only to marry the first girl you met after me?”

His cheeks went red. “Well, Y/N, it wasn’t exactly linear. I met Dominique then, but we didn’t become a couple until later. Even after, I still…”

“Cheated on her,” you finished. “God, Roger, was one woman ever going to be enough for you?”

“I’m a different person now,” he said.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That much I can see.”

With that, you turned on your heel and marched off the dance floor. Roger was right behind you.

“Come on, Y/N, it was a long time ago,” he said. “I was young and stupid.”

“Well, time has certainly not made you any wiser,” you spat, snatching your coat and bag from the back of your chair.

“Y/N, please!” he cried.

You both ignored the questioning glances of your coworkers as you departed the table. You burst through the door and into the cold night air. It stung your skin, but it was not as painful as your heart. So quickly after leaving you, he found the woman he would marry and have children with. It felt so brutally unfair, you could hardly draw breath.

“Y/N!” he called, jogging over to you on the street.

“No, don’t Y/N me!” you shot back, whipping around to face him. “You fucked up, Roger! That’s what happened! You fucked up with me and then you fucked up your marriage! You just - you - fucked up!”

“Hey, lady, watch the language!” scolded as passerby.

“Oh, fuck you!” you shouted at him.

“Y/N!” Roger yelled, regaining your attention. “Like I said, it’s not like I met Dominique and decided she was going to be my wife! It started as something casual, and it got out of hand!”

“Out of hand?!” you questioned.

“Yes, out of hand!” he continued. “It’s not something we should shout about in the street!”

“No,” you agreed, a frightening calm overcoming you. “No, I don’t think we should discuss it all.”

“I think we should,” he said. “You’re clearly hurt by it.”

“Yes, Roger, I am hurt by it,” you said coolly. “That’s all you’ve managed to do. Well, I won’t let you hurt me anymore. No more dances, no more talks in my office. I will not discuss with you anything - and I mean anything - outside of your divorce papers, do you understand me?”

“Y/N -”

“Do. You. Understand. Me?” you asserted.

He sighed. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” you said. “Good night, Roger.”

Once again, you left him alone. This time, he did not follow you. With a heavy sigh and watery eyes, he ordered a car. You were both going home, though it didn’t feel like it.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #roger taylor imagine #BoRhap #borhap imagine #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #queen x you #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #just like a woman series

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actionnerdgamerlove · 3 years

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Do You Want Me Now - Chapter 25: Beach Week, Part One

Find it on AO3

Many, many thanks to @laughingatlivedragons for her help with this chapter - Geralt's past vacations couldn't have happened without you, my love!

“Hey Geralt,” Jaskier called from the living room, “Are you a beach person?”

She heard him hum as he came out of the upstairs bathroom. She’d heard the shower shut off, and was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs.

“This isn’t a show, Jask,” Geralt growled (without any real heat in it) as he walked down the stairs, shirtless, toweling off his hair. “Maybe I should start selling tickets,” he rolled his eyes as he said it, but he was secretly delighted. Anytime Jaskier was home and able to catch him showering, she’d wait for him to come out, just to see him without a shirt on. (She usually waited downstairs in the living room, or the kitchen; she didn’t just hover outside of the bathroom.) She never said anything; just looked at him – and it was always the same look. She looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No one had ever looked at Geralt like that before; not even when he was married.

“I mean, I do pay rent; is this not an amenity that’s included?” Larkin laughed, but then turned serious. “Geralt, for real though, if I’m making you uncomfortable, say the word, and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” he said while rolling his eyes, fondly. “I just – I figured the novelty would have worn off after six plus months, y’know?”

“NOPE! The effect of your physical beauty is just too compelling; I am powerless to resist.” Jask threw her hand over her forehead dramatically, leaning back.

“So, before we got sidetracked with your weird fascination with me,” the teasing note in Geralt’s voice made Larkin beam. “What’d you ask me?” he ended by throwing his towel over her head, enjoying the squawk and sputtering noises coming from under the towel. It had taken him a while to get used to the fact that Larkin just…rolled with stuff like that. He watched her pull the towel off her head, then point upstairs, then downstairs, asking him if he wanted it back in the bathroom, or down in the laundry. Geralt pointed upstairs; he’d just gotten it out. She took the stairs two at a time, and presumably hung it up on his hook in the bathroom.

Huh, he thought. Geralt wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he draped her in his towel, but return towel service was not it.

Larkin noticed the bewildered look on his face when she came back downstairs. “’Tis but a small price to pay, for the simple joy of letting me ogle you,”

“You’re weird,” he told her. Because she was. But he really liked it.

“Yep!” Larkin walked over to the couch and sat down, pulling out her phone. “Oh, so. Do you like the beach? Are you a beach person?”

Geralt felt like this was a trick question. “Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“Why do I get the feeling you think I’m going to try to do something mean, Geralt? Relax, sir. A friend of mine just said I could use her beach house for the summer, that’s all. I wanted to know if you wanted to go sometime.”

This has to be a trick, he thought. Who just doesn’tuse a beach house during the summer?

“Why isn’t she gonna use it?”

“She’s going on tour, she won’t be around. Shame, too, she’s a lot of fun.”

“Who is it?” Geralt asked, still skeptical.

“Taylor Swift,” Larkin said, like it was NBD.

Fucking WHAT.

*****

[White Wolf 6:30 PM]: Taylor Swift is lending Jask her beach house for the summer and wanted to know if I wanted to go with her.

[Eskel 6:30 PM]: Wait a minute. Taylor Swift wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask, or Jask wanted to know if you wanted to go with Jask?

[White Wolf 6:31 PM]: Jask wanted to know if I wanted to go.

[Lambert 6:32 PM]: WAIT BACKUP. TAYLOR SWIFT? This is a joke, right?

[White Wolf 6:33 PM]: No joke, I made Jask show me the texts. Jask has a bunch of photos of the two of them together, apparently Jask stayed there for like a month last summer, before we met.

[Lambert 6:34 PM]: OH MY GOD, SHE DID. She said she was staying at a friend’s! She never said it was fucking Taylor Swift!

[White Wolf 6:34 PM]: Question still stands.

[Lambert 6:35 PM]: What was the question? Is there a question? You’re going, right? Is that the question? Do you not want to go? Why wouldn’t you go?

[Eskel 6:35 PM]: Seriously, Geralt – why wouldn’t you go?

[White Wolf 6:36 PM]: What’re we gonna do?

[Eskel 6:36 PM]: What do you do here?

[White Wolf 6:37 PM]: Nothing. Hangout. Go running. Cook. Watch movies.

[Lambert 6:38 PM]: I still can’t see you being ‘chill’, she is a literal miracle worker. Anyhoo. Do all that. At the BEACH.

[Eskel 6:39 PM]: Yes. Please go. Jas is asking you to go on a vacation, Ger. When was the last time you went on a vacation?

[White Wolf 6:40 PM]: Yen.

[Lambert 6:40 PM]: DEAR GOD PLEASE GO. I guarantee that Jas does vacations VERY differently. There won’t be an agenda every day. I promise.

*****

Geralt’s last vacation had been…intense. He and Yennefer had gone to Amsterdam for two weeks and to Geralt it had been…a LOT. Cities weren’t necessarily his favorite place in general, but throw in almost a million inhabitants, drugs and hookers EVERYWHERE, the waterworks, a literal shitton of bicycles and the mix of posh and historic – there was NOTHIING relaxing about that vacation.

It wasn’t a vacation, it was a trip. Lambert wasn’t exaggerating – Yen had actually come up with a written agenda every day, thinking it would appeal to the control freak in Geralt.

It did not. It actually made Geralt even more anxious, because it made him feel like there was a scheduled timetable they had to keep. And when Yen would dawdle, and throw off the timing of the agenda-

You can see how this did not appeal to Geralt AT ALL.

In general, his marriage to Yennefer had been intense on a level that was unsustainable for them both (hence the divorce) and he knew, he knew Jaskier was nothing like Yen, and would therefore probably vacation very differently.

But he was still kind of freaking out about it.

*****

Larkin could tell something was bothering her beloved Wolf. She’d asked him about going to the beach, and he’d just…avoided the question. That…was not Geralt’s style, AT ALL. She’d mentioned it to Lauren, her therapist, and Lauren had suggested that perhaps Geralt had had a bad vacation experience, once upon a time.

Larkin hadn’t thought of that.

Armed with this potential realization, Larkin attempted to bring it up once more.

“Geralt, would it be ok if I talked to you about maybe going to the beach again?” She asked one night as they were clearing dinner dishes. She watched his shoulders tense up.

Oh boy, she thought.

“Sure,” Geralt said, sounding utterly defeated.

Ok, WHAT THE FUCK, thought Larkin. Who hurt my Wolf with a VACATION?

“Geralt,” she started, watching him load the dishwasher, back to her, obviously uncomfortable. “You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I can’t make you go. You won’t hurt my feelings if you say no.”

Geralt turned to face her, over the open dishwasher trays. “No, it’s not – that’s not-“ he took a breath. “Why me?”

Larkin was puzzled. “I don’t understand the question. You’re like my favorite person; I love spending time with you. I thought it might be a nice break from the farm, and school? If it being just the two of us makes you uncomfortable, I can invite-“

“Why would it being just the two of us make me uncomfortable? We live together, just the two of us.”

“Ok, so it’s not me that’s the problem.” Larkin was glad to get that sorted out; she’d worried she’d freaked him out by asking him alone.

“Of course you’re not the problem – you’re never a problem, Jask.” Geralt was looking at Larkin like she were speaking moon-man language.

“Is there a problem? Do you…not like vacations?”

“No, Jas, it’s not-“ he sighed. Larkin watched him push a lock of hair out of his eyes. “My last vacation was…not fantastic. It was very…structured. There was a written daily agenda. It was like a two-week long bad day.”

“Geralt, I don’t mean to be smart, but are you sure that was a vacation? That sounds like an extra circle of hell, to me.”

“It was.”

“Ok. So, knowing that, that isn’t really what I had in mind? I mean, if there’s stuff we want to do, we can talk about it before hand, and I don’t really think we’d need to write it down, but if you wanted to, I guess we could? Like, I’m not sure you’d really need to write down “go for a run” or “let’s go fishing”?

“Fishing?” Geralt’s ears perked up at that.

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of fun stuff we could do, if you want. There’s hiking trails, fishing, I think Taylor’s leaving me her boat, so there’s that-“

“A BOAT?”

Geralt was fully invested now. He left the dishwasher wide open and came to sit next to Jaskier on a barstool at the kitchen island.

“I mean, she is Taylor Swift. It’s a pretty sweet boat.”

“You know how to use it?”

“Yes, Geralt. Former Viscountess, remember? I got that angle covered,” Larkin said, smiling. “If you want, I’ll send you the address, and the website for the town. You can see all the stuff they have going on, it’s a really nice place – both the house and the town.”

“It’s not a city?”

“Oh, Lord, no. This place is the definition of laid-back small town. Lemme ask you this – what are your concerns, other than an agenda driven nightmare of anti-relaxation?”

Geralt snorted. That was exactly what he was worried about. “Lotta people, crowds, feeling cornered.”

“Ok. Can you give me one second to get my laptop? I have some photos I think might help.”

Larkin waited for Geralt to nod, and she hopped up and grabbed her laptop from the living room. She flipped it into tablet mode, and opened a photo album titled “Taylor – Beach – 1st year”.

“Ok, so, this is going to seem silly, but she sent me a video tour of her house, because I was nervous before going the first time.”

“How many times have you been there?” Geralt asked, sounding insanely curious.

“Last year was my third year. She hasn’t really changed much with the house since she took this video.”

Larkin pressed play, and the video showed Taylor, in all her blonde “girl-next-door” glory, starting outside a really nice-looking tan-clapboard-sided ridiculously big beach house, that looked like it was in the middle of fucking nowhere. She walked around the paved drive, showing the marshland across the road from the house, then walked up to the house, up the big front entry stairway, into a foyer the size of their living room. She continued the tour through what seemed like five separate living rooms, a massively well-equipped kitchen, several different dining areas, the 97 bedrooms, the outdoor living areas on the deck outside, and then the little walkway out to the private beach. Taylor did a 360-degree spin on the beach. There were no neighbors.

All in all, the video was thirty minutes long. There was a lot of goofy, silly good-friend stuff throughout; Taylor made up songs about the different rooms, she essentially sang the tour to Jaskier. She ended it by saying “I love you; I can’t wait to see you. We’ll have fun. I promise.”

Geralt looked at Larkin with a look she couldn’t translate. “Did you guys…date?”

“Huh? Oh, that. No. I met her shortly after the fallout of the Countess bullshit. I was…not okay. She was really kind, and a really good friend. She’s still a really good friend. No, we didn’t date.” Larkin smiled at the fond memories the video brought back. It had been a really shitty time, and Taylor, and that beach house made everything a lot less shitty.

“What did you guys do?”

“We sang a lot, we laid on the beach, we took walks, we ate – boy, did we eat, I tell you what that girl can EAT, Geralt; you wouldn’t think it to look at her but GOODNESS. It was great.”

“Why was it great?”

“It was just nice to be able to see her being herself, like, instead of the person society says she is; she wanted to eat, so she did. I did a lot of cooking while I was with her, it was fantastic. We went to the boardwalk a couple times, but we had to kind of lay low, because she’s a BIG DEAL. She has an aunt in town, Aunt Karen, so mostly the townsfolk are real chill about her being there, but sometimes the tourists are the WORST. We went out on the boat, we went fishing, and we slept a lot. Sometimes on the boat, sometimes on the beach. We got really tan.”

“That house has a lot of bedrooms,”

“Doesn’t it? To this day I haven’t slept in them all; it’s my mission in life to do that. I feel like the house keeps gaining extra bedrooms, so it’s always one step ahead of me.” Larkin turned to Geralt. “So, that’s kind of the extent of the excitement. It’s definitelynot crowded, unless you bring people with you. There’s a soundproof music room, so that’s cool. I think you’ll like that feature,” Larkin said with a smile.

“Hey!” Geralt said, sounding somewhat offended. “That was like, one time. Ok, maybe more than one time. But not a lot of times!”

“I’m kidding, big guy. You have been so gracious about my constant noise making, really. I tease.” Larkin considered the man next to her. “You know, you still haven’t answered my original question – do you even like going to the beach?”

“The way you describe ‘beach time’ is not the way I’ve experienced beach time in the past. Your way sounds much more enjoyable.”

“Did you have agendas for beach time, too?” Larkin was horrified someone would desecrate beach time that way.

“Kind of. It wasn’t relaxing, let’s say.”

“Wow. So, it’s like this. You wake up in the morning and want to go hiking? We do that. I wake up and want to lie on the beach for a while, and you don’t? I lie on the beach and you do whatever you want to do. We want to do something together? We figure it out, and do it. If there is a specific something happening on a specific day, that we want to hit? We work it in. There’s like, sightseeing we could do, but it’s not like ‘going to the oldest European city EVER and needing to see every piece of every shard of something someone really old carried from one place to another’ kind of sightseeing. There are a couple nature preserves in the area, and a lot of really good places for nature photos.”

“This sounds too good to be true.”

“Right? I am ridiculously lucky to have such a good friend. I wish she wasn’t going on tour for so long, I think you’d really like her. She’s super goofy, she’s a lot of fun.”

“What’s Renfri think of her?”

“Renfri LOVES HER. She gets heart eyes the entire time Taylor is anywhere in the vicinity. It’s hysterical.”

“Are they…a thing?”

“I’ve never asked, and neither of them has ever said. Taylor deserves privacy. I want them both to be happy. If that’s with each other, then I know they’ll have a good time.”

“So wait. You said she gave you this house for the summer – are you going to be there ALL summer?” Geralt asked. Larkin thought he sounded panicky.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it. I still plan on paying rent, Geralt, it’s not like I’m moving out or anything,”

“I wasn’t worried about the rent, Lark,” Geralt said, making a face at her.

“Then what are you worried about?” Larkin asked, giving Geralt a concerned look.

“Three months is just…a long time,”

Larkin thought that wasn’t exactly what Geralt wanted to say. Larkin was pretty sure she heard “I’ll miss you,” instead. Now it was her turn to hum.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be there for three months straight, for sure. I do think I want to go before Taylor leaves, so I can see her for a couple days before she’s gone, and I’d like to spend some time with you there, and I think I want to get my brother and sister there for a couple days, too; obviously you’re welcome for that, if you want. They love you, they’d love to see you. Other than that, I don’t really have any ‘must-do’s’ other than maybe having everyone there at the same time? Do you think Eskel and Lambert would want to come? And Aiden? And maybe Triss?”

Yes, Geralt thought. But do I want them to come, is the question.

“What about Renfri?” he said instead, noticing that she hadn’t mentioned her best friend.

“Oh, obviously Renfri would be invited at some point. But she’s already gone with me before. I’ll talk to you before I go, Geralt, it’s not like I’m just gonna up and leave without saying anything,” she paused. “And hopefully, you’d be willing to come with me, at least once,”

“Lemme think about it. I see my therapist tomorrow, I want to talk to him first. I’m serious, Larkin, I really will think about it. I do want to go, it’s just – beforetimes.

“Beforetimes.” She nodded, sadly. Larkin knew exactly what he meant.

*****

Geralt was almost able to predict exactly what Frank, his therapist, was going to say.

“So, let’s break this down. You’re afraid of two things. You’re afraid of going on vacation because vacations with Yennefer were not enjoyable for you, and you’re afraid future vacations will also be not enjoyable. But you’re also afraid of Larkin being away for an extended amount of time. Are those both accurate statements?”

“Yes.” Geralt wanted to argue about the use of the word ‘afraid’ but knew it was pointless because he was, in fact, afraid.

“Let’s start with the overall vacation idea, because I think that one might be a little easier to navigate.”

“Not every vacation is going to be like a Yennefer vacation.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this, maybe we should switch chairs,” Frank said, making Geralt smirk. He really liked his therapist. He’d been seeing Frank for four years; Frank had taken over when his last therapist had retired. He’d liked his last therapist, too; he’d gotten pretty lucky that way. Frank was real. He used examples from real life to illustrate and make parallels. He understood PTSD. He understood Geralt’s limits, and didn’t push – too hard. He called Geralt on his bullshit, in a gentle and professional way. He was a really good therapist.

“You said Larkin gave you an idea of what vacationing at this specific location, specifically with her, would be like. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she make it sound like?”

“Perfect.”

“Ok. Do you trust Larkin?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s honest. Because she’s down to Earth. Because she cares about me.”

“Do you think anything she said about this beach house, or spending time with her there, is made up, or embellished?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I gotta tell you, I’m really skeptical that she knows Taylor Swift.”

“I’m telling you, Frank, I saw the video. Taylor Swift made Jas a half an hour video five years ago singing her way through this fucking humongous gorgeous beach house. She used Jaskier’s name several times in the video. She told Jas she loved her at the end of it. There are pictures of the two of them together at this house, and other places. Jas has text messages on her phone from her.”

“Well, those could just be made up,”

“Frank. I know you googled Larkin. She’s not making this up. If anything, the HOUSE is made up, but it’s not, because there are pictures of her and Renfri, and Taylor Swift all on the couches and at tables together.”

“You have a fascinating roommate.”

“Yep.”

“Back to the vacation idea. So. How certain are you that Jaskier is telling the truth about the laid-back beach vacation of which she speaks?”

“99.9% certain.”

“And the .1%?”

“It sounds too good to be true.”

“Face it, Geralt, a lot of Jaskier sounds too good to be true, but it isn’t, because you’ve lived with her now for what, over six months?”

“Yep.”

“And there are parts of Jaskier that are NOT too good to be true, correct?” Frank asked, giving Geralt A LOOK.

“Yes.”

“But you still like living with her?”

“I do.”

“I think that brings us to our second point.”

“Joy.”

“Geralt. You knew we’d get here eventually. So. You don’t like the idea of Jaskier being gone for three months straight. How come?”

“I just…don’t want her to be gone that long. That’s a long time.”

“Ok, Geralt, I feel that it is my place to remind you that you’re safe here, you know that, and it’s ok to have feelings, here and everywhere else. Care to delve in to that last bit a little deeper?”

“I’ll miss her.”

“There you go.” Frank paused. “Ok, I’m going to ask, and I won’t push about this one. Why will you miss her?”

Geralt sighed. Yep, he thought. This is the problem.

“I love her.”

“Oh, shit!” Frank exclaimed, his face a mask of surprise. Geralt had never actually seen Frank look really, actually surprised. “I honestly thought that one was gonna take longer.”

Geralt just stared at him.

“Oh, come on, Geralt. I am not your brothers; I’m not going to bust your balls over this but even still. It has been obvious to me for quite a while, and especially since that fucking wedding what the actual fuck is wrong with her family- I apologize. That was inappropriate. Accurate, but inappropriate. Anyway. It’s been fairly obvious for quite a while that you care about her deeply. That’s all I’m gonna say. You pay me to notice things. So I noticed. Mazel Tov, man. For what it’s worth, from what you’ve told me about her, you guys are a very good fit. You’ve both dealt with some really serious shit together in the time you’ve known one another, and you’ve handled it well, both separately, and together. So, good luck, if you decide to move things in a more romantic direction. In my nonprofessional opinion, I think that will be received very well.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Geralt was feeling kind of bewildered, both from admitting OUT LOUD that he loved his roommate in the ‘Yeah, I’d kind of like to get married to you,’ way; but also that his therapist already knew about it, and thought his chances of success were high.

#witcher fic #The Witcher fic #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #Fem!Jaskier #GothamCityRollerGirlWrites #Geraskier

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