#i got feelings about charlie i love her but she is definitely been neglected as a protagonist | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Inception: Chapter 5

"Pft! I-Ahahaha!" You were doubled over the table trying to stop yourself from choking on your food while Ajax crinkled his nose in disdain. The two of you were at Xinyue Kiosk for a late-night dinner that he had insisted was his treat. You've only ate at fancy food places like this every once in awhile; these meals were so freaking expensive! Your initial hesitance to join Ajax on the basis of money was soon overshadowed by the entertaining sight sitting across the table.

"Tch...tsk..." With every effort, he grew more impatient and frustrated. It didn't help that you were watching and laughing at his incompetent efforts to use chopsticks! "Ugh! Forget it!" He gave up and stabbed one of his sushi rolls rather violently before shoving it into his mouth with a pout. Ajax turned away from you as his face grew redder and redder, but he couldn't help glancing back to see the smile on your face and the tears of joy rolling down your cheeks. Well, as long as this brought you joy...at his own expense...He let out a huff before reaching for his drink. At least whatever bitterness you held towards him last week seemed to disappear.

"I-I can't believe you...! I can't take it!" At long last your laughing fit died down enough so you could breathe, and you reached up to wipe your tears away. "Pft...! I'm sorry, but this is too funny!"

"Yeah yeah," Ajax sighed yet again, his confidence deflating like a balloon and his posture slouching. What a way to impress a girl. He should've went for the fork first!

Noticing his sudden change of attitude, you slipped out of your seat and joined his side, leaning over him. "Here," you swiped the chopsticks off of his plate and placed them in his hand once again, this time so they were in the correct positions. "Now you've got the right hold on them." Your fingers were still draped over his while you guided the sticks to another piece of sushi.

Contrary to your concentration on helping, Ajax was a bit more flustered than usual and it wasn't because of the chopsticks. For some reason his heart fluttered at the sudden lack of distance between the two of you, just like that night under the light of the Mingxiao lantern. 'You think I'm in love with childhood friend? My my my, Mr. Zhongli, perhaps you've finally lost your marbles after spending so much time with mortals,' he recollected. No...there's no way Zhongli's right about this. This is all a fluke! But your hand was so warm, no doubt because of your pyro vision...how long had it been since he felt such gentleness from another person? The closest he's ever come to human contact was by beating his foes senseless! And when was the last time he had a genuine hug? It's been years, he realized, since before the inception of my Fatui status.

"There, see? You'll get the hang of it." He snapped back to the present when your hand quickly left his. Whatever light had begun to gleam in his eyes faded just like the heat from your touch, and he watched you sit back down at your end of the table. "You're not completely hopeless at chopsticks," you smirked.

"You're right, ojou-chan. One day I'll surpass you when it comes to these cursed utensils!" He hid his feelings by attempting to put your lesson to use, but failed drastically again and again. It was obvious he didn't pay attention to a single thing you had told him to do! The boyish desire to one-up his best friend made you giggle again.

Somewhere behind the decorated divider that made up your private dining space sat the eyes and ears of the wolf. Following Master Childe around proved to be fruitful just as expected; while the harbinger often held private meetings and dinners to get closer to clients, this one felt different based on all the others that Charlie had followed him to. There was a distinct familiarity--one that Childe was definitely not faking for the sake of deceit and was shared with the mysterious girl sitting at the other end of the table.

I see, thought Charlie while his ears strained to pick up the other noncoherent whispers on the other side of the screen. He'd been following Childe around all week and had quickly picked up on the harbinger's avoidance of his own men so that he could spend time with you. Clearly, this woman must hold a special place in Childe's heart--an old flame, maybe? Regardless of the specifics of your relationship with him, it would make the most sense for you to be the vigilante Childe has neglected to capture; the merciless blood-thirsty harbinger would've gone in for the kill if it were any other person, but since it's you...you'd be protected. Sheltered. Allowed to get away with tormenting the Fatui since you're so close to Childe. You're untouchable.

Of course, this was all just a theory. To properly identify you as the vigilante Master seeks, he'd have to follow you around instead.

A chill ran down Childe's back out of nowhere; something's wrong. While he continued to struggle with the remainder of the sushi, his gaze darted to every which-way to identify anything out of the ordinary. He was sure the two of you weren't followed, and he had made every effort possible to avoid his subordinates on the way here, even setting up a private room that isn't too common in the Kiosk. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. You noticed the sudden tension in the air around him, and stared until he noticed.

"What's wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing," his voice lower than a minute ago, "Please excuse me, ojou-chan. I need to use the restroom." He slipped out between two of the dividers and froze once he was out of your sight. The remainder of the room was deserted. How odd...the tension in his shoulders slowly faded as he was put at ease.

"Excuse me," a petite voice drug him out of his thoughts and he was greeted by the waitress. She held a silver platter with a pair of matching deserts on it. "Oh, have you changed your mind on desert after all?"

"No, not at all. Please, allow me." He took the tray from her and watched her exit the room. With one final skeptical glance around the room, he returned to the inside of the dividers.

"Oh, and before I forget," Childe began to dig into a delicious chocolate desert you didn't remember the name of but seemed to be some sort of cake. "I have a business trip coming up at the end of this week in Mondstat."

"Oh really? That sounds fun. How long will you be gone?"

"For a few days at the least. Actually, I was wondering if you'd join me."

Your forkful of chocolate-something froze in midair. "...Join...you...? But I don't have anything to do with your company...I'd be a distraction, don't you think? Plus there's my business with the funeral parlor and I don't think I can request days off on such short--"

"I've already spoken to Zhongli about it. He and Hu Tao cleared you as of last night. So, what do you say? Wouldn't this also give you the chance to visit some of your friends there anyway?"

"Well...yes..." you mumbled with a slight blush.

"What do you have to lose? Think of it as a much-needed vacation. You work too hard from what I've heard from Zhongli! Besides, we can use this opportunity to learn more about each other, don't you think?" Seeing your hesitation, he let out a defeated chuckle and shrugged. "Of course, that's if you want to come with me. If not, I understand."

"I..." Well if my superiors approved, then I guess there's nothing wrong with taking a trip, right? "Okay, I'll come with you."

................................................

The quiet peacefulness of Liyuan wilderness was disrupted by an exhausted groan and the dragging of feet. "Ugh, since when was it ever this hot in Liyue?" Your clothes were soaked in sweat from the summer-like heat despite your vision granting you resistance, but Childe appeared mostly unbothered--mostly. He didn't show it, but when you'd look elsewhere he'd often pull at his collar and reminisce of the harsh winters of the Motherland. "Thank the archons that the sun is finally setting."

"We've already passed Wangshu Inn, but it's not too late to turn back and spend the night there. Are you sure you want to sleep in the woods, Reed? You'd be passing up the chance to cuddle me, you know." He reveled in your half-disgusted, half-flustered reaction while you struggled to fully comprehend his words.

"Q-Quit it! Like I've said before, this wouldn't be my first trip to Mond. I have no problem lying on the ground! Or are you saying you can't handle it?" Flipping the subject onto him did no good at hiding your flushing skin; the arrogant smirk on his face proved it. "...Why don't we stay here? There's the creek nearby, and a clearing up ahead."

Childe eyed the surrounding area and set his pack down. "If the lady insists." The pleasant aroma of packed food filled the two of you with delight. "Shall I begin cooking dinner?"

"I wouldn't mind," you practically drooled. Ajax's cooking was amazing! After that initial dinner when both of you reunited, he would sometimes surprise you with homecooked meals to take home and man were you excited for the next time he offered. A toy seller and a cook...his younger siblings must live a luxury! "I'll get some water!"

The creek wasn't too far away--perhaps some fifty feet or so. The crystalline waters murmured quietly over the pebbles and stones, some spaces louder, others quieter where the fish gathered. If it wasn't getting darker by the minute and the threat of hilichurls wasn't so prominent, you could've stayed here much longer. Not that hilichurls posed that much of a threat to someone acquainted with your fighting skills, but you've only come across them once or twice, and the giant ones could easily bulldoze through you if given the chance.

Once the pot of water was full you rose to walk back to your little makeshift camp. Ajax had insisted on bringing fresh produce since the trip to Mondstat wasn't a particularly long one and the trip was rather straightforward. Maybe he was going to make stew? Whatever he chose, you just hoped none of the food spoiled from the sun beating down on the packs all day.

By the time you got back, Ajax had already managed to start a fire and was humming some unknown tune while preparing the produce. You couldn't help but raise a brow and tighten your hold on the pot. "Um...really?"

"Hm?" His eyes slid to you, then back to the fire. "Oh! Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Don't worry, Reed. It won't bite you."

"I'm not coming close enough to feel the heat on my skin. Here," you thrust the pot towards him and he made sure to grab it before the water spilled over. Your light footsteps got quieter the further you strayed from Ajax and the fire, taking shelter beneath one of the far trees where your packs lay.

"Relax, ojou-chan. I won't let it hurt you." A small chuckle escaped him before he resumed his humming session without a second thought or noticing your silence.

You really don't remember...You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. What did they do to you, Ajax?

Your silence carried on until the crickets duetted with the occasional hoots of a nearby owl and the crackling of the fire weighed heavily on your mind. "I'm sorry, ojou-chan."

"Mm?" He had stopped rambling about some disagreement he and a coworker had about communication and was now looking directly at you.

"I'll put out the fire," he moved.

"No, you need to stay warm."

"I wouldn't say that." He drug out a blanket from his pack and laid it in the space between where he sat by the fire and you, who sat at the tree behind him. "Here. You'll lay on that side, I'll lay next to the fire."

Your eyes narrowed at the flickering flames behind him. "Is that even safe?"

"Well if the fire ever gets out of control, you or I can put it out," he reasoned and pat the spot next to him until you reluctantly obliged. He didn't lay down until you were settled in with your back facing him. Silence befell the campsite until he took a deep breath. "What's on your mind, Reed?"

It took a few minutes for the answer to come out. "Do you not remember our last encounter before my mother and I left Snezhnaya?"

"Now that you mention it, not really." He remembered a vague goodbye, but nothing else about it. It was sometime right after he returned from the abyss if he got his timeline correct. Feeling a tad nervous for whatever reason now, he let out a small laugh. "Could you possibly enlighten--" You rolled around so you faced him and met his gaze with tears. That's when his memory came rushing back.

"Ajax! Ajax!" You ran at him full speed with hot tears spilling down your cheeks until you collided with him in a tight embrace. "I--I thought they got you too!" He seemed to freeze under your touch, so you pulled away to look him over. He appeared tired and wild for lack of a better term, with eyes as wide as saucers like a snow leopard meeting a human for the first time. He was different, but you couldn't put your finger on how.

"'Too?'"

"The Fatui," you sobbed. "A day after you went missing, my house...my daddy..."

His words came out as harsh as the cold with not a hint of his kind demeanor shining through. "Spit it out."

"You know how my daddy fights against the Fatui in my town? They burned my house down and...and daddy..." Was your face red from crying all day or from the cold? "...he burned with it." Ajax didn't seem injured, so some of the stress weighing your shoulders down dissipated a bit now that you knew your dear friend wasn't hurt.

But instead of Ajax explaining where he was or consoling you for the loss of your father, a horrid giggle pierced through the snowscape. It was inhuman, what with its pitch sending an icy chill down your spine and instantly replacing your expression of sorrow to one of confusion and horror. "Ha...Hahahaha! Hahahahah!"

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny!"

"Ahahaha! Silly Reed," he chided and pat your head like one consoles a younger sibling, "in this world, only the strong survive. Your father wasn't strong enough." The girl before him trembled at his words. "He was too weak if he died like that."

"Th--This isn't funny, Ajax! Cut it--OW!" You were shoved into the snow with an unfamiliar strength. Ajax never raised a hand at you, even when you two played together. What was he--

A dangerous glint danced in his eyes like the fire that consumed your house two days ago. "No, you cut it out! You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep acting weak. The world has no mercy on people like us. It's kill or be killed. Do you understand that, Reed?"

"Why are you...What is the matter with you?! Don't you care? What did the Fatui do to you?! Who even are you?" Hot tears rolled down your cheeks until the cold froze them in their tracks. Yet the boy that stared down at you was uncaring, cruel, and held no life in his eyes.

"It wasn't the Fatui," he muttered to himself. "Hurry up and get on with it already. What was really so important that you needed to tell me your dad died?"

"My mama and I...we're leaving tomorrow. I came to make sure you were okay and to say goodbye. We won't see each other again, Ajax," you finally rose to your feet and clenched your fists. "But you don't care, do you?"

"No. I don't. Leave me alone already."

"I..." Ajax blinked several times as he processed his long-forgotten memory. "I'm so sorry, Reed."

"If you're so sorry, then tell me what happened. What did the Fatui do to you?" Even in the dark, you could see a hint of sadness in the depths of his eyes. "If they hurt you too I swear...I swear I'll make every single one of them pay." Heat radiated from your body at the thought. "I promise." Yet even as you said this, there was another, darker, more bittersweet emotion in his expression.

"I...fell into the Abyss." Those were the only words he muttered before rolling onto his other side, facing away from you. And though you didn't really understand what he meant, his empty tone struck a cord within you. Warm arms gently wrapped around his torso with a heat softer than the campfire that lulled him to sleep.

#genshin x reader #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia fluff #childe tartaglia #wesimpforxiaoupdates #genshin impact

23 notes · View notes

wayward-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 5

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Not Giving In (Almost)

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned)

Word Count: 7,508 (thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: Y/N gets her car back, bringing stability back to her routine. As Friday night rolls around, Dean’s plans with Lisa get derailed as she goes out with her friends. Dean asks Y/N over, resulting in a night of laughs, stories of the past, and something between them that they can’t keep denying.

Warnings: Swearing, Talk of past family issues, Mention of reader’s ex, Talk of mental abuse, Neglect, Insecurities, Alcohol Consumption, Dean being cute (yes, that’s a warning), Flirting, Forbidden feelings, Moment of weakness (you’ll see what I mean, I don’t want to spoil it)

Music: Renegade by Styx (Dean cooking scene), What Is and What Should Never Be by Led Zeppelin (Dean and Y/N end scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the love towards this series! It’s been amazing to hear all of your thoughts! We’re really getting into it now, and I just hope you’ll enjoy the journey of these characters. I can’t wait to hear what you all think! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Life's Lessons Masterlist

The next couple of days flew by, and before she knew it, it was Wednesday. Y/N was happy to be getting her car back, her life becoming easier again, especially with school. Her classes had been keeping her busy, grading tests and making sure the homework was done. All of her students but a couple were doing well, and she knew she would have to talk to the parents as she soon as they had time to meet. Things remained awkward with Ben, who would never really say much, except for a few sentences each class.

She knew it was hard with her being his teacher and living across the street but given the size of this town it was hard not to see people constantly. The only thing that could be done and what she had been practicing, was not talking about him or to him outside of a school setting.

Cas had brought Y/N into the garage again, once classes were over on Wednesday. Though this time he couldn’t stay, wanting to meet Meg before she started her shift at the hospital. Y/N walked in and was greeted by the receptionist this time, an elder woman.

“Hi, I’m Ellen, what can I help you with?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my car. I’m Y/N Y/L/N” she told the woman. She had a pleasant demeanor, but Y/N had the feeling she could really get mad of you pissed her off.

“Oh, so you’re Y/N!” she beamed. “Dean’s been talkin’ about ya non-stop. Just making sure he does everything right and on time.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “Well, that’s nice of him.” Dean had been talking about her to his friends and co-workers? She suddenly felt a little strange to be the centre of attention.

Just as Ellen was about to speak, the door to the men’s room in the reception area opened, and Benny walked out, this time without any car grease on him. He was looking sharp as he was a little dressed up.

“Hey, cher” he smiled, as he enveloped in a hug. She liked him and it was easy to see why he and Dean got along. Benny was mild mannered despite his intimidating build, and he clearly loved the work as much as his green-eyed friend.

“Hey, Benny. You clean up well” she complemented him, taking in his crisp white shirt and black pants.

“Thanks, darlin’. My girlfriend, Andrea’s coming back from visiting family in Greece, so I’m headed to the airport” he told her, a big smile on his bearded face.

“Oh, wow!” she gasped. “That would’ve been amazing!”

“Yeah, she had a great time. I can’t wait to see her” Benny smiled, giddily. “Dean’s just bringing your car around.”

“Great” she breathed out. “Well, have a wonderful time with Andrea.”

“I will, and you know when things are more settled for ya, you should come over for dinner” Benny said, genuinely.

“I’d love that” she smiled.

“Take care, cher” he said, as he winked and walked away.

“Bye, Benny” she called out as she watched him leave through the front door.

Y/N watched through the windows as Benny waited to the side, as her car pulled up. She smiled as she watched Dean get out, wearing his aviators and blue and black plaid. Was there ever a time he wouldn’t look so damn breathtaking? The man was a walking sculpture. She watched as Benny walked off to his car, and Dean walked towards the front door. She smiled at him as he saw her and smirked, opened the door and took off his sunglasses. She looked amazing in her maroon A-line skirt and white top, with a fawn coat. Dean couldn’t help but admire her. She could wear a paper bag and still look stunning.

“Hey” he said, with the widest grin on his face. “Come on.”

He held out his hand and without a second thought, she clasped it with hers. Both of them had the same thought of how perfectly their hands fit together, but quickly pushed it aside. He led her outside and over to her car.

“Here she is” he said, dropping her hand, much to Y/N’s dismay. “Get in and turn the car on.” He tossed her the keys which she caught perfectly.

Y/N quickly got in the front seat and smiled, half excited and half nervous. She dropped her bag in the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition, and heard it turn on. This time without any hideous sounds.

“Woooo!” he cheered with a laugh.

She laughed as she shook her head. He was crazy, but she loved how much he loved his work. She turned the car back off just as he came around to her side. She got out and automatically wrapped her arms around his neck, in a hug. He pulled her close, his arms around her waist, as he swayed them side to side. He chuckled, the rumble in his chest vibrating through her.

“Thank you so, so much, Dean” she whispered.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart” he whispered back.

The hug lasted a little longer than they had intended, and she quickly pulled away before they could overthink the gesture.

“I got to get home” she said, not really wanting to leave but knowing she had to.

“Yeah” he nodded, trying not to sound disappointed. “Come and find me if something happens, again, but you’re definitely good to go.”

“I’m sure I won’t have to” she said, as she sat back in her seat. Dean closed the door for her but leaned into the open window.

“See you around, sweetheart” he winked.

“Bye” she muttered, trying not to look flustered by his charm. Cut it out, woman! She scolded herself as she pulled out of the garage parking, and turned her car in the direction of home.

Friday night quickly around again. Ben was staying at a friend’s house, which gave Dean the perfect opportunity to cook dinner for Lisa. With Styx Renegade playing on the record player and the sauce for the lasanga simmering on the stove, he started mixing ingredients for dessert as the front door opened. Lisa walked in from having dropped Ben off and eyed him incredulously.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, leaning into the kitchen island.

“With the kid away for the night, I thought this was a good night to stay in and cook” he smirked, genuinely. “Have some alone time.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I can’t. I’m going out with the girls.”

He frowned, trying not to roll his eyes. “Can’t you go out with them some other time? I mean, you’re always out with them. I thought we could have a night to ourselves for once.”

“They’re my friends, Dean” she chastised him. “I don’t stop you from going out with your friends.”

She walked down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

An hour later, Lisa left the house with a slam of the door. Dean made up the lasanga and put it in the oven, but what was the point of eating it by himself? Now he didn’t even feel like eating it, wanting to order in pizza instead and threw back a few beers. As he started to dial the pizza place, he stopped. He looked up and out of the window in the kitchen. He smiled as an idea came to him.

Y/N was thankful for this Friday night to herself. She was going to call Katie and then watch a couple episodes of The Walking Dead which she had recorded, and get a pizza delivered. She made plans for Saturday to go watch a movie and have lunch with Charlie. She had asked for Meg’s number from Cas to invite her, but she was unfortunately working at the hospital. She promised to come to whatever the next thing would be, though, and Y/N was excited to meet her soon enough.

Just as she was about to sit down and call Katie, the doorbell rang a few times. Y/N frowned, wondering who could ring so urgently and hurried to the door. She swung it open and smiled as she saw Dean on the other side, looking flustered. The dark green shirt he was wearing was crumpled, and there was red and white checked dish cloth on his shoulder, which he probably hadn’t noticed.

“Please tell me you’re not doing anything tonight” he said, quickly, his hands rubbing over each other, nervously.

“Uh, no. I mean, I had a date with my DVR, but that’s about it” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay, well… if you want, I’d love to have you over to dinner. Ben’s at a friend’s for the night, Lisa couldn’t cancel her plans with friends when I asked her to stay for dinner, and I don’t want it to go to waste” he told her, a hopeful look on his face.

She smiled, not even thinking twice about it. “I’d love to.”

He pumped his fist, as he smiled wide. “You’re the best. Okay. In half an hour?”

“Absolutely” she nodded, his smile infectious as she found herself smiling too.

“Ah! Thank you!” he shouted happily, as he quickly leaned in and pecked her cheek. “See you soon!”

He quickly ran off back to his house, clearly not realizing what he just did.

Y/N shut the door, not being able to stop herself from smiling. She was trying to tread lightly but it was too hard. When he kept being the amazing human that he was, how could she? She knew she needed to call Katie as she got ready to go over there. She would set her straight.

She walked into her bedroom and opened up her closet, trying to figure what to wear. Considering the weather was starting to turn, a sweater and jeans would be most appropriate. She tossed the clothes on the bed and then stripped off, walking into her bathroom. She wanted to freshen up quickly after a long day at work. As she turned the shower on and then stepped in, she clipped her hair up to save it from the water. As she moved her body under the water, her mind wandered to Dean. She hated the idea of him trying to work things out with Lisa and her leaving him hanging. Did she care about him at all? Why stick around in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere? Did they even have their good days anymore? Having been in a bad relationship herself, she knew what it could do to your mind, and she hated to think that Dean was going through something awful by being in relationship that absolutely was not going anywhere.

She quickly lathered up, her mind still on Dean. These feelings of attraction weren’t new to her, but this was the first time they had been so intense. His face was somehow rugged and yet beautiful, his body was hard but his touch soft. Her eyes closed as her mind continued to wander, her hand moving down between her thighs. She rubbed her hand over her mound, the water cascading down on her only serving to make her wetter than she already was. Before she could continue, however, her mind quickly snapped out of the images of him. She moved her hand away, feeling guilty that she did what she did, but glad that she stopped before she went any further.

She turned off the shower and stepped out, wiping down. She quickly got dressed into what she was going to wear for dinner, and then dialled Katie’s number. She picked up on the second ring, her cheery voice on loudspeaker.

“Hey!”

“Hey, how are you?” she asked her friend.

“I’m great, but… you don’t sound so good” Katie replied, her voice full of concern for Y/N.

“Well, I’m about to head over to Dean’s for dinner. Just me and him” Y/N said, sighing.

“And you’re broken up about it because he’s still with his girlfriend? Right?” Katie asked, accurately assisting the situation.

“Bingo” Y/N replied.

She heard Katie breathe out deeply. “Y/N.”

“In my defence, he asked me because his girlfriend couldn’t cancel her plans with friends, and he didn’t want dinner to go to waste. I couldn’t say no” Y/N quickly explained.

There was a pause in conversation; Y/N knew that Katie was thinking.

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with going over there, as a friend and having a good time” Katie reassured her. “Just… be careful.”

I will” Y/N nodded. She glanced at the clock and saw that she should leave. “I should go.”

“Okay, keep me posted” Katie said.

“I will. Sorry we couldn’t talk for longer” Y/N apologized.

“It’s okay, we can make up for it soon” Katie said, simply.

“Definitely” Y/N agreed.

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Y/N quickly fixed her hair into more of a natural look, sweeping it off to the side. She put on her chocolate brown knee high heeled boots, sprayed some perfume on, and picked her phone as she left the house.

Y/N walked across the street, fidgeting with the neckline of her black sweater. She kept trying to pull it up over her shoulders, but the sleeves kept slipping down to rest almost off-shoulder. There was no point battling with it to do something it clearly couldn’t, so she left the neckline alone. Her Y/H/C hair was resting over shoulder, exposing the other. She had a split second of realizing that maybe she shouldn’t have worn it like that or the sweater, but it was too late now.

She walked up the porch steps and rang the doorbell. She was nervous to be alone with him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little excited too. It was alone time with Dean, and as much as she wanted it to be more, it was just two friends having dinner together. That’s it. It couldn’t be more. She wouldn’t let it be more. She waited patiently, but a breath caught in her throat when the door opened.

Dean had changed for dinner and was standing there in a dark grey Henley and dark blue jeans, looking like a freaking model. Dear god, give me strength she thought as she smiled at him, admiring the way the Henley clung to his muscles.

“Hey, come on in” he smiled, letting her into the house.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She smiled as her chin rested on his shoulder, and suddenly missed the closeness when he moved away.

As she walked in, Dean made quick work of checking her out. The black sweater she was wearing exposed her shoulders and collarbone, as her hair was styled in a simple yet perfect way. She was freaking stunning and he was regretting calling her over here.

Just keep it friendly and it’ll be good he told himself as he closed the door and walked into the kitchen.

“So, what can I get you drink?” he asked, as she followed him into the kitchen. “We got beer, wine, whiskey, a whole bunch of other spirits.”

She walked over to one of the high stools at the kitchen island, her heeled boots echoing through the house as they hit the hardwood floor and sat across from where he was standing.

“Wine would be great” she said, as she placed her phone in front of her on the counter, as she swayed a little to Zeppelin playing softly from the record player.

“Red or white?” he asked.

“Whatever’s going to go with dinner” she replied, with a small laugh.

“Red it is” he drummed his hands on the surface and then walked over to the other side of the kitchen, opening the glasses cabinet. He took out two wine glasses and selected a bottle from the wine rack on the bar he had next to the kitchen, before he walked back to his original spot.

“I didn’t take you for a wine guy” she teased, as she watched him pour a decent amount into each glass.

“I am when the occasion calls for it, and this definitely does” he said, as he passed one glass to her. He lifted his up in a toast and she did the same.

“To new friendships?” she suggested.

He smiled, nodding. “Absolutely.”

They clinked their glasses together and then both took a sip. She hummed as the liquid slipped down her throat.

“That’s amazing” she commented as she looked down at her glass.

“Yeah” he agreed as he picked up the bottle. “It’s pretty damn good and I’m not even much of a wine drinker.”

“So, how was work?” she asked, as she took another sip of wine.

His eyes lit up instantly. “Oh my god, today was freaking amazing! This guy brought in a beat up ’69 Camaro and wants us to restore it from the ground up!”

Her jaw dropped, just as excited as him now. “Oh my god, Dean! That’s incredible!”

He shook his head, his head still reeling. “I know, I swear as soon as he brought it into the back, me and Benny were losing our minds.”

“Wow” she laughed happily.

“It’s pretty much everything; new engine-” he started but suddenly stopped, clearing his throat. “Sorry, you probably don’t wanna hear this.”

She frowned, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “No, I do. Please, Dean, continue.”

“Oh, okay” he looked relieved as he went on. “So, yeah… new engine, tires, upholstery, paint job, the whole works.”

“That’s so awesome” she grinned.

“Yeah, and the guy’s pretty fucking loaded, too. So, he’s not sparing any expense. Paid in advance for everything” he told her, the smile never leaving his face.

“Dean” she sighed, her heart soaring. “This is seriously amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N” he half smiled, a twinge of sadness behind it. “I called and told Lisa as soon as he left. She said she was happy for me, but I know she’s not into this sorta thing, so…” he laughed it off, but Y/N knew he was hurting.

“Well, I don’t think you have to be in order to be happy for someone. I don’t know a damn thing about cars, but I’m really happy for you” she told him, sincerely.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right” he said, as he took a sip of wine. “I haven’t even told her about all my thoughts for expanding, either, because I know it’s not something she’s be interested in.”

“Expanding?” she asked, curiously.

“Yeah, I mean… we’ve had restoration jobs in the past, none as big as this one, but we’ve had a few. Every time we do, I keep thinking about opening another branch of the shop, specifically for restoration on classics, across town. Benny could run things here, while I’m at the new place for a while, and then we could just keep rotating between all of us at the shop. Maybe even hire a few more guys” he explained, a small grin on his face as he did.

“Dean… I think that’s brilliant. Not to mention incredibly different. That could really put you on the map” she complemented his plan, loving the idea instantly.

“Yeah” he nodded. “We’re flying already, and I’m really happy with where we are, but I know that we’d be unstoppable if that happened. You know?”

Y/N smiled; she loved seeing how ambitious he was. She couldn’t help but feel bad that he probably hadn’t shared this with anyone, except for maybe Benny.

“So, what about you? How’s work?” he asked, changing the subject to her.

“It’s good. I feel like I’m finally settled into the job, it happened quicker than I thought it would. I feel like Cas and Charlie had something to do with that. They’ve been so supportive of me” she replied, slowly turning her glass by the stem.

“Yeah, they’re awesome” Dean chuckled, incredibly matter of fact.

“We’re moving into teaching To Kill A Mockingbird next week, which I’m excited about” she smiled; it was one of her favorites.

“Man, I wish I had teachers as excited as you about school. Maybe I would’ve enjoyed it too” he laughed as he recalled his school days.

“Not a school guy, Dean?” she teased.

“God, no. I mean, I graduated, but that’s about it. I just didn’t have it in me like Sammy did, you know?” he said, truthfully.

“Well…” she said, as she laid her hand on his. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. What you do matters, too. Not everyone can have the skills you have.”

Dean had the sudden realization that her hand felt incredible in his and he never wanted her to let go. She really cared about him and what he did, and that made his heart beat just a bit faster, knowing that.

“So, no hare-brained ideas like me?” he chuckled, but his self-deprecating humor wasn’t lost on her.

“Well, firstly, your idea isn’t hare-brained” she quickly chastised him for the way he was thinking. “And secondly, no big plans other than eventually moving into high school. Teaching Literature; that’s where I want to be.”

He nodded, all while trying to keep his naughty teacher fantasies at bay. “That’s great.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong I do enjoy teaching the younger kids, but they’re a handful. Having more of chance to teach the stuff I really love in high school… it would be amazing” she said, her eyes dreamy and hopeful.

“Well, I hope you get there. Those kids are gonna have one badass teacher” he smirked as he complemented her.

“Thanks” she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I hope so, too. I’m dying to get the chance to teach my favorites; especially Jane Eyre.”

“That had something about a fire, right?” he asked, trying to recall if he knew anything about that book.

“Yeah. I absolutely love it” she sighed.

“Hey, what do you know, I know something” he laughed.

She shook her head, smiling as she gestured to the bookshelves in the living room. “Seems like you know plenty.”

“Those are mostly Lisa’s” he waved her off.

“Really?” she asked, an eyebrow raised. She hopped off the stool at the kitchen island and walked over to the shelves. She scanned them quickly, and took out a book, holding it up to him. It was Slaughterhouse Five. “Somehow I don’t think Lisa’s a Vonnegut fan.”

“I guess not” he said, as he walked over, slowly.

“Or Dracula” she said, picking that one up after putting away the other.

“Yeah, I… um, I like the sci-fi, and horror stuff” he shrugged.

“I do too” she smiled.

He returned it, finding their conversation so easy it scared him. It shouldn’t have been that simple with someone he couldn’t be with.

“Food shouldn’t be too hot now” he said, breaking the moment between them. “Let’s eat.”

Dean walked back into the kitchen and picked up the dish that was cooling down from the corner near the stove. He brought it over to the table and sat down at the head of the table, just as Y/N brought her wine glass and Dean’s over. She sat down at the corner where the place setting was as he lifted the lid off the dish. The smell was absolutely divine as it reached her nose. Dean cut into the lasagna and placed the piece on her plate with a slice of garlic bread and some salad. She smiled as he passed it to her and took out his own serving, minus the salad. She had to laugh.

“Alright, go ahead and give me the verdict” he said, wanting her to eat first.

She dug in and took a forkful, bringing it to her mouth. As she chewed, her eyes closed, a smile gracing her face.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “That… is incredible.”

“Glad to hear to that” he smirked as he dug in.

“So…” she swallowed her mouthful before continuing. “Who taught you how to cook?”

“My mom, as cliché as that sounds. She didn’t want me eating take-out all the time when I moved out years ago, so she taught me a few things” he told her.

She nodded, smiling. She couldn’t help but think about how she found guys who cooked incredibly sexy.

“Are you and your mom close?” she asked.

“Yeah, we are. I was the one who was there for her when she and dad had a big fight. We started to talk more often after that” he replied, taking another bite.

“What happened?” she asked, softly. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

If it was anyone else, he probably would’ve shot the question down, but he was comfortable around Y/N. He felt like he could tell her things and she wouldn’t judge anyone. Even Lisa barely knew anything about his family.

“I was around 23, 24 and working with dad full-time by then. Sammy was at college. Things weren’t going great with the business; we were losing money and he was getting really stressed. He was forgetting things, just trying to provide and he forgot their anniversary. She got really upset and found out just how bad things were. There was a lot of yelling, she cried a lot. One night, he just left. He came back after a month, apologized a lot to her, and she forgave him. He was really different when he came back; a better version of himself. Things have been really good ever since” he explained, that memory still hard to think about.

“Do you guys know where he went?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, he went to a family friend in South Dakota. He helped turn things around for the business too, he’s a mechanic as well” Dean replied, smiling as he thought about his “uncle”. “Dad told me later he was just ashamed and didn’t know how to face her after what happened. He felt like he couldn’t provide for her, that she deserved better. He’s always felt like he didn’t deserve her, and she’s always felt like he’s exactly the person she was meant to be with.”

“I’m glad everything worked out” she smiled but frowned when something occurred to her. “Did he ever apologize to you?”

“He didn’t need to, I understood what happened and I never judged him for it” he shrugged.

“Well, that maybe so, but it put a pressure on you that you didn’t need” she said, understanding the situation completely. “I’m just saying, it’s never too late for that conversation.”

A silence fell as Dean thought about what she just said. About how she just understood, so instantly, so clearly. He cleared his throat as he continued to eat, his mind flooded with a million thoughts about her.

“You know a lot about my family, so I gotta know something about yours now” he said, wagging his eyebrows as he looked at her.

She laughed as she racked her brain for something interesting. “I wish I had some interesting stories, but I don’t.”

“Well, who are you closer with?” he asked.

She chewed quickly as she put her fork down. “Dad. I mean, I love my mom and we get a long great, but she can be a little too assertive sometimes. Whereas, my dad always knew how to get her to calm down and let me take the reins when I needed to. He always let me make my own choices, and if I ever made a decision that didn’t turn out well, he’d tell me that it was okay. It was a learning curve and that I would do it differently next time.”

Dean nodded, approvingly. “Smart.”

“Yeah” she smiled sadly, her heart longing for her family. “I miss them.”

“That’s another thing I gotta ask…” Dean started as she looked at him. “You’ve said you’re close with them since I first met you, so… why did you move so far away from them?”

There it was. The question she had been dreading. Yes, she had already told Charlie but that came up organically, through their conversation at the bar. Telling him was different.

Dean sensed a shift in Y/N and knew something was wrong. Her hands closed up, she avoided looking at him as she stared down at her plate and looked like she was shaking. He had never seen her like this, and he was scared that he had really upset her.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I just… don’t know how to tell you” she replied, as she picked up her glass and took a big gulp of wine.

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me anything, it’s totally fine. I’m an idiot, I shouldn’t have brought it up” he apologized but she shook her head, causing him to stop.

“No, you’re not. It’s okay” she said, quietly. “I want to tell you. You’ve told me so much about your life, it’s only right I tell you about mine. Plus, I’ve talked about it with Charlie, so I’ll be okay.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to just because Charlie-” he said but she cut him off again.

“It’s okay, Dean. Really” she let one side of her mouth turn up, letting him know it was fine.

When Dean just looked at her intently and didn’t say anything, she decided that for now she’d tell him what she could. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, because she did. Completely. She just needed to hold some of it back for now. She told Charlie everything because somehow it was easier to open up to her. Dean was someone she was starting to have genuine feelings for, even though she shouldn’t be. As much as she wanted to open her whole heart to him, he wasn’t hers to do that.

Y/N cleared her throat from the roughness that built up because of the alcohol and her emotions already affecting her.

“I was in a relationship for a year and a half. His name was Ethan. He was a friend of a friend and we met at that friend’s birthday party. He was charming and funny, a little arrogant but I didn’t think much of it at the start. We started dating and he generous, but it didn’t last long. He was incredibly controlling, telling what I should or shouldn’t do. Everyone would tell me that wasn’t normal, and deep down I knew that, but he was just so convincing that I thought that he was trying to make me better” she told him, her voice shaking.

Dean continued to look at her, slipping his hand over hers. Y/N felt the heat of his hand on hers as she turned hers, locking them together.

“It took a night of a lot yelling, of finally realizing what kind of a man he was, to make me finally leave him.” She shook her head, closing her eyes as the waves of the past began to flood in.

She felt Dean’s hand squeeze hers, reassuring her that she was okay. That she wasn’t in that place anymore. It was a year later, but the effects of what Ethan had said, what he had done, still lingered, still held onto the rope that was nearly broken. Most of the strands were frayed and lost, but the last strands still needed to be torn.

Y/N opened her eyes and looked at Dean. She saw his eyes, sad but fiery, as he shook his head. She had probably scared him off and she didn’t blame him, honestly.

“Y/N, you’re… you’re the strongest person I know.” Dean gripped her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re amazing. Beautiful. I-, fuck I wanna hurt him for what he did to you.”

Y/N huffed as what she was feeling got the better of her. “Fortunately, he’s far enough away that you don’t have to.”

“Is your family safe with him around?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, they are” she nodded, wiping under her eyes. “He uh… he was around for a while, I’d see him a lot, but he eventually moved out to L.A. with his girlfriend.”

“Good riddance” he grumbled, under his breath.

“I knew he was gone but still being there… it just became too much. I was in therapy for a year just trying work through everything. When I saw this job come up, I jumped on it straight away. I miss everyone back home, but I knew I had to leave” she explained, blinking a few times to keep the tears at bay. “There’s a lot more to it, but… I just…”

Dean shook his head as he leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. “You don’t have to tell me more, Y/N.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at him. “Thank you. For listening. It’s not everything but I wanted to tell you.”

“Well, thank you for telling me what you could. I can’t imagine how hard that was.” He gave her a soft smile, as he looked down at their hands. Still joined together.

“It was, but…” she contemplated whether she should say what she was about to, but it was the truth and she wanted him to know. “I trust you.”

Dean nodded, realizing that it meant a lot for her to do that. The fact that he had earned her trust in a short amount of time was something he wasn’t expecting. Now that he had it though, he made a promise then and there to himself that he would never let her doubt him.

“I trust you, too” he spoke softly, but he smiled when he saw the corners of her mouth turn up and he knew that she had heard him.

Y/N was glad to know that she had Dean’s trust too. It took a lot for a person to tell someone about their family issues, and the fact that he did just meant that he was comfortable around her. She was grateful for that and if he felt like that with her, then she certainly did with him, allowing her to tell him about her past. Even if there still a bit more to the story.

The conversation turned lighter after that. They discretely unclasped their hands from each other, as they continued to eat. They both hid the fact that they missed the feeling. They asked each other about their favorite things, the conversation moving quickly between movies, books and music. They both decided that Zeppelin was the shit, and no one could tell them otherwise. Dean quickly got up and changed the record to another Zeppelin album, and sat back down.

“Okay, don’t judge me” she said, looking sheepish as she pointed to the record player. “I still don’t have this album.”

“What?” he asked as he leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

“No, unfortunately. I’m pretty sure dad just never got around to buying it, ever” she told him, frowning.

“Well, we gotta change that soon” he shook his head but with a small smile.

Y/N sat back in her chair; her plate now empty. That had been one of the best meals she had had a long time.

“Damn, that was incredible” she said. “Thank you.”

Dean smirked as he started clearing the plates and cutlery. “No problem, sweetheart. I’m glad it wasn’t failure.”

“Somehow I don’t think you could fail at this” she laughed slightly, as she stood up and helped him.

“Hey, I got this” he groaned as he nudged her, silently telling her to stop helping him.

“No way, you’re getting help whether you want it or not” she said, as she followed him into the kitchen.

He started washing up as she grabbed a cloth and started wiping whatever he washed.

“That was my job when me and Sam would clear up” he gestured to her, as she stood there with the towel.

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t the one washing?”

“Nope, Sammy didn’t trust me not to splash him” he laughed.

She joined in. “Brothers.”

“Eh, I’ve done worse” he shrugged, passing her a plate.

“Like what?” she wondered.

“Let’s see…” a wicked grin graced his face. “Itching powder in his boxers, Nair in his shampoo…”

She let out a loud screech. “Oh my god, no!”

“Yeah, I got into a lot of trouble for that one” he laughed, sheepishly.

“Good” she said, playfully elbowing him, but a little hard.

“Ow!” he moaned as he laughed. He turned the water off and wiped his hands on another cloth.

“Did you and your sister ever prank each other?” he asked.

“Uh, less purposely pranking and more just getting each other back for something” she recalled. “She’s older so she always felt like she deserved the most time in the bathroom. She spat in my hair while we were brushing our teeth and I bent down before her. So… I shaved off one of her eyebrows while she was sleeping.”

Dean threw his head and laughed loudly. “Wow, didn’t expect that, Y/L/N.”

She laughed as she wiped down the last of the cutlery. “Luckily, we grew out of all of that pretty quick.”

Dean smiled. She always wore a far off look on her face when she talked about her family. It must’ve been hard to not see them every day. He couldn’t imagine doing that. He went over to the oven and opened it, taking out a tray with two white ramekins. Y/N gasped as she walked over.

“You… you made chocolate molten cakes?” she asked, staring at them before looking up at him, wide eyed.

“Yeah” he said, nonchalantly. “There wasn’t enough time for pie, so chocolate cake it is.”

“You’re… full of surprises, Dean Winchester” she shook her head. He wasn’t real. He couldn’t be.

“More wine?” he asked, as he waited for the ramekins to cool.

“Oh gosh, I’ve had three glasses. I really shouldn’t” she said, looking at the bottle. “Ah, screw it. Sure!”

Dean chuckled and poured some for Y/N and then himself as What Is and What Should Never Be began to play.

And if I say to you tomorrow

Take my hand, child come with me

It’s to a castle I will take you

Where what’s to be, they say will be

He watched as she hopped up on the kitchen bench and took her glass. He took out a spoon from the drawer and slowly cut into the cake, watching the melted chocolate ooze out. He took some in the spoon and brought it over to her. He blew on it slightly, as he held his hand under it.

“Okay, tell me if it’s good” he said, as she leaned in and took the mouthful in.

The sound she made as she closed her eyes caused the heat to rise in his cheeks.

“Fuck” she moaned, delightedly. “That’s so fucking amazing!”

He sighed in relief and cleared his throat at the sounds she made, as he grinned at her. “Good to know.”

“You are an incredible cook, Dean. I’m glad I came over tonight” she said, looking at him as he took a bite himself.

Catch the wind, see us spin

Sail away leave today

Way up high, in the sky, hey

He hummed as he tasted it himself. “Well, me too. All this didn’t go to waste, which it definitely would’ve considering Lisa couldn’t stay, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome” she smiled, as she took a sip of wine.

He saw a speck of melted chocolate on the side of her lips and lifted his hand.

But the wind won’t blow

You really shouldn’t go

It only goes to show

“Hey, you got a little chocolate… right there” he murmured as he swiped his thumb across her lips and removed it.

“Oh” she gasped. “Thanks.”

The song continued to play as they looked at each other, their faces close as their eyes met.

That you will be mine

By taking our time, ooh

Before he could think twice about it, Dean leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. It took her a second, but quickly her lips moved against his. The kiss became heated instantly, their lips moving together sensually. He moved forward between her legs and wrapped his arms around her waist, as her arms went around his neck at the same time her legs wrapped around his hips. Her fingers combed through his hair, her fists tightening in the short spikes as he softly bit her bottom lip. She moaned into the kiss as his hands pulled her in, trying to get as close to her as possible.

And if you say to me tomorrow

Oh what fun it all would be

Then what’s to stop us, pretty baby

But what is and what should never be

Dean’s lips left hers as they trailed down, nipping at her jaw and moving down further. He nipped at her neck, causing another moan to leave her as he found her weak spot. She brought him in closer, gripping the short hair at the back of his head, tight. He slowly slipped his hand under her loose sweater, the heat of his hand meeting her back and spreading through her body. When his hand travelled up her back, the spell she was under broke.

Y/N pulled away from Dean, looking up into his green eyes. They were dark and blown wide from the moment of weakness they both just had, and she was sure hers were the same. She pushed herself away from him, her legs falling away from as he moved out of her space.

“I can’t do this” she said, frantically shaking her head.

She quickly hopped off the bench, looking for her phone. It was still on the island where she had left it. She quickly picked it up and ran towards the door.

Dean snapped out of his trance and followed behind her. “Y/N, wait!”

She didn’t hear him as she swung the door open and raced out, bounding down the stairs as she ran across the street.

Dean watched from the threshold as she ran into her house, shutting the door behind her. He thought that he should go over there, but knew it wasn’t a good idea. He stepped back in and closed the door. He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the spikes and ran them back down his face. He walked back into the kitchen, replaying what just happened over and over in his head. He had lost control and the guilt was beginning to settle in. Lisa didn’t deserve that, no matter how bad things were between them. He shouldn’t have done that with Y/N, she didn’t need this.

As he ran his hand over his lips, however, he closed his eyes. He could still her lips, still feel her touch on his body, still feel the smoothness of her skin against his hands. In that moment, it felt so right to be in her arms. It hadn’t felt wrong.

He knew now that he had just complicated things even more. Every fibre within him wanted to be close to her again, but he couldn’t.

He just had to try even harder now, with Lisa. That was the only way to not think about Y/N anymore.

That was the only way to fix things.

Y/N slammed the door behind her as she entered her house. She breathed heavily, her frantic run from Dean’s had winded her. She walked into the kitchen and opened the tap at the sink, flicking specks of water at her face. She took out a glass and filled it, gulping the water down.

Once she had calmed down slightly, her mind wandered back to what happened. She had kissed Dean. Dean, who was in a relationship. Dean, who was practically a father to a student in her class. Dean, who made her laugh and let her tell her story, without judging her. Dean, who said she was strong. Dean, who told her she was beautiful. Dean, who made her feel safe. Dean, who she was starting to have real feelings for.

It felt right to be with him, when it should’ve felt wrong. She was a horrible person and she never should’ve gone over there tonight.

She couldn’t see him again. Yes, it would be hard considering their close proximity, but she couldn’t. She had to forget about how she felt and remember he had a family. A family that didn’t deserve this, even if things were rocky.

She had to let go of Dean, when every instinct was telling her to pull him in and hold him tight.

She had to let him go, no matter how much it hurt.

She had to let him go, because it was the right thing to do.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @ellewritesfix05

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

230 notes · View notes

theclockworkmonk · 3 years

Text

Out of the Mouths of Babes - Chapter 1

Read on AO3 here

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

Ron was still huffing grumpily as he stepped forward and pushed the door of their flat open for Hermione, so she wouldn’t have to adjust Teddy in her arms. His gracious show of chivalry clashed hilariously with the sour look on his face.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione laughed, shaking her head at him, “One would really assume you’d be used to it by now.”

“I have gotten used to it!” he said defensively. “I keep getting used to it, over and over, but then they just keep getting worse! If you want to snog your girlfriend, snog your girlfriend, if you want to talk with your best mate, talk with your best mate, but it’s downright rude to try to do both at the same time. But was there a single moment today where they weren’t draped all over each other? No! I don’t even want to think about what their hands might have been doing under the table. I mean, shit… ”

“Ron!” Hermioned hissed harshly, quickly covering Teddy’s ears.

But it was too late. “What’s shit?” the three-year-old asked innocently. Hermione shot Ron a murderous glare.

“I’ve told you Ron, for once in your life, watch what comes out of your mouth! Teddy is at a stage in his development where he’s very observant and curious.”

“What’s curious?” asked Teddy.

“That just means you’re growing up to be the most clever boy in the world!” Hermione told the toddler sweetly. She lifted up his shirt and blew him a raspberry, causing him to erupt into giggles. She put him down and he ran off to sit on the sitting room rug and start playing with the toys they had brought out before taking him today.

Ron was still grumpy as he plopped down on the sofa and watched Teddy absentmindedly. In hindsight, Hermione saw that she should have given him some time to cool off between ending their double lunch date with Harry and Ginny and picking Teddy up from Andromeda, to give her a night off to spend with other adults unencumbered. But if they had delayed at all, Harry would have jumped at the chance and taken Teddy himself. He was always using his role of godfather to indulge his martyr complex, but Hermione had steadfastly reminded him that Ginny was off for the first time in weeks after the intense conclusion to the Quidditch season, and she deserved to have her boyfriend all to herself.

Hermione sighed as she sat next to her fiancé on the sofa, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You have to remember, Ron, that Harry is still learning how physical affection works. He grew up without anyone ever touching him except to control him or hurt him. It’s called being touch-starved, it’s a real phenomenon in psychology. It’s understandable if he over-corrects in the other direction and doesn’t understand that public displays of affection come with boundaries.

She turned her head to look at him kindly, but found him giving her a deadpan frown.

“Seriously, Hermione? Not everything is related to something you read in a book once but somehow remember years later. This has nothing to do with Harry’s Tragic Backstory, they get more and more handsy because they know that it drives me up the wall, they’re just fucking with me.”

“What’s fucking?” asked Teddy.

“Sorr— Ow!” Ron helped as Hermione elbowed him hard in the side.

“Behave yourself,” she told him. “And don’t sell Harry short, that is not why he does it.”

She settled back into leaning against him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“....That is absolutely why Ginny does it, though,” she added, making Ron snort with laughter.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to just watch Teddy play with small smiles on their faces.

“Thanks for volunteering us to take him,” Ron said softly into Hermione’s ear. “Having him around, this time of the year….it helps.”

Hermione nodded somberly. “I know what you mean.” The next day was May 2nd. Three years to the day since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hermione sniffed as she felt all-too familiar tears threatening to break free again. “Being around someone so young, someone who won’t ever remember how bad things had gotten, who would only know the new world we fought for. It reminds us that none of them died in vain.”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed quietly. “I think the rest of the family feels the same way, they always get super clingy with Vic this time of the year. Me too, I’ll admit.”

“Oh yes, I’ve definitely noticed that,” Hermione nodded. “Even more so than with Teddy, since she’s a Weasley. She represents your family’s survival and healing, I suppose.”

Hermione chuckled at something she remembered. “The worst of them all is your mother. She’s really been cranking the doting up for Victoire, and between you and me, it’s driving Fleur absolutely mad.”

Ron sat up a bit to face her, smiling mischievously at the gossip. “Oh yeah?”

Hermione nodded and smiled back. “She won’t say anything until she figures out a way to phrase it passive-aggressively instead of bluntly, but Fleur is clearly feeling smothered by the pressure of being the mother of the only grandchild.”

Ron’s smile faltered a bit, and the same grumpy mood he had when they returned home seemed to return.

“Well, she probably shouldn’t worry,” he grumbled. “If my best mate and my sister keep being as insufferable as they are, it’s only a matter of time before Harry’s knocking Ginny up—”

“Ron!” Hermione growled angrily, shooting Teddy a sideways glance, but fortunately he seemed too busy playing with his toy dragons. She breathed a sigh of relief, then started giggling.

“What on Earth makes you assume that?” she asked him incredulously.

“Hermione, if they can’t control themselves in the middle of a sodding café, what makes you think they can when alone in their flat?”

Hermione snuggled back up to him, pouting her lip playfully. “Well if that’s the case, why them and not us? I’d like to think that we’re similarly…. out of control at times…” she slowly brought a hand to rub up his thigh. Then, suddenly, her eyes narrowed dangerously, she stood up, and put her hands on her hips.

“Unless you’re saying that you’re just not as attracted to me as Harry is to Ginny?”

Ron just raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. “You’re trying to trap me because you think I’m adorable when I’m nervous, but you have to be less transparent than that, love.”

“Shoot, it was worth a try,” laughed Hermione, sitting back down.

“You know that I meant that you would never allow that to happen,” pulling her close again. “You can’t even make noncommittal plans for drinks in a pub without triple-checking your schedule and giving it a color-coded entry in your planner, there’s no way you’d ever let something as important as…. that just slip your mind. But you know how reckless those two are, is it really hard to believe they would neglect the Contraception Charm once?”

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. “No, I really don’t think so. There are some things that Harry and Ginny do take seriously, one of them is family, they wouldn’t be blasé about it. And don’t be so disgustingly modest,” she said, lightly swatting his leg. “I am not always meticulous, you know damn well you’re capable of turning me into a scatterbrained piece of goo.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel Ron grinning proudly at that.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured in her ear, and Hermione felt goosebumps erupt on her neck. He pulled her closer and Hermione felt herself blush scarlet as he whispered all sorts of things he planned to do to her to prove her right.

“What’s knickers?” asked Teddy, who apparently had very good hearing. Hermione blushed harder than ever as she elbowed her fiancé again.

It was after dark when Ron and Hermione finally stepped through the fireplace of the Burrow. They could hear the large, loud gathering in the kitchen before they saw it. They found Andromeda talking and laughing happily in the kitchen with Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, George, and Charlie, all drinking either tea, firewhiskey, or some combination of both. But as pleasant as the evening had been, she still beamed when she saw her grandson running towards her.

“He wasn’t too much trouble, was he?” she asked apologetically as she scooped the toddler into her lap.

“He was a delight!” said Hermione cheerfully.

“Yeah, this kid stuff is easy!” said Ron dismissively. “And yes, that’s a git thing to say, feel free to saddle us with him until I regret it.”

Andromeda laughed and thanked them again. After Ron and Hermione returned home through the fireplace, Teddy rested his head on Andromeda’s shoulder. He was clearly very tired and was starting to get fussy.

“Well,” Andromeda sighed, “I guess I should get this one home. Thank you so much for having me, all of you.”

But then, Teddy spoke up in a sleepy voice.

“Grammy, what’s knocking up?”

There was a loud crash as Molly dropped the teapot onto the kitchen floor. Fleur gasped dramatically, Bill coughed and sputtered on his firewhiskey, while George just erupted into laughter.

Andromeda pulled the boy off her shoulder and looked at him sternly. “Edward Remus Lupin, where did you hear that?” she asked.

“Oh, I believe we know where” Molly growled as she flicked her wand to levitate the shrapnel on the floor and started to reassemble it into a teapot, “I honestly don’t know where these sons of mine got such foul mouths. I have half a mind to go after Ronald and remind him that he’s not too old for me to wash his mouth out with soap. I am so sorry, Andi.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Andromeda. “Harry can swear just as well as any Weasley.”

She addressed Teddy again, more gently this time. “Go on, Teddy, where did you hear those words?”

“Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

The kitchen of the Burrow had never before fallen so quickly, completely silent. The only sound was another crash as Molly dropped the teapot again.

#harry potter #hp fanfic #fanfic #hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry and ginny #romione

34 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

Text

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow.

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax.

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone.

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning.

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.”

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts.

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same.

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that.

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything.

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right?

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start.

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting.

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name.

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door.

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon.

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful.

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth.

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life.

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room.

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him.

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about.

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago.

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind.

“I get it,” Jody finally says.

Dean glances sharply at her.

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told...

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee.

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long.

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up.

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders).

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood.

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed.

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against.

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood.

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities.

Probably.

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this.

The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. ��Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas.

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off.

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly.

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.”

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?”

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger.

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?”

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar.

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—”

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods.

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water.

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air.

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair.

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected.

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth.

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—”

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on.

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead.

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it.

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?”

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own.

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him.

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough.

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair.

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really.

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago.

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again.

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him.

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this.

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat.

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is.

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step.

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas.

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both.

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists.

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize.

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars.

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic.

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza.

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room.

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up.

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much.

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want.

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face.

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

59 notes · View notes

kikis-writing-world · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I hope you having a good day!! I was just wondering if you wanted to share a bit more about When the sky touches the sea :) I love reading all of your stuff 🥺💗

Hi there, thank you so much!! I’m happy to talk about it a bit!

So I posted a prologue to it (and tbh I feel bad for having uploaded it when I have so little work done on the series, and I’m focusing on Whiskey Straight. It’s just not getting any of my love right now...) that I haven’t touched in forever.

Essentially Frankie moves to a small cabin near a lake to get out of the city and ends up meeting a mermaid. Of course he’s absolutely freaking shocked at first, but he gets to know her and they start to fall for each other. (I have one scene largely plotted out where his daughter is visiting him and she gets down to the lake when Frankie isn’t looking and falls in, but the Mermaid saves her.) Not only is he fascinated by her, but she’s fascinated by him. Life on land was always told to her to be dangerous for her kind... but also he flies?! Like whaaat!

Of course though, this comes with plenty of angst because like, how the hell are a mermaid and a human supposed to be together??! (Which there’s the rub... part of why I’ve neglected this story is even I don’t have the solution to that 100% nailed down yet. I have some thoughts but I’m not totally sold on them yet.)

Also Santiago is hilarious in this, he’s the best friend who knows all the superstitions and legends of the area. He’s going to absolutely come in handy when Frankie needs someone to talk to because he’s going to be scared at first, having grown up hearing stories of cannibal, murderous sea people - but he believes Frankie when he tells him there’s a mermaid in the lake.

Under the cut, I posted an (uneditied) snippet from when Frankie meets the mermaid for the first time:

Check out my WIP list over here, and ask about any that interest you!

The mutt zipped back and forth over the path, moving steadily along with Frankie but making frequent pit stops to smell around and mark his territory. He only had to call after the dog a few times when he was worried Charlie was about to start chasing after a rustling in the bush.

They got down to the lake, Charlie running to wade along the shore while Frankie spotted an ideal spot to set up for the morning. There was an old, fallen tree that would be perfect for him to sit on as he fished. He put down the cooler as he laughed at Charlie, sloshing the water around as he drank while walking.

“You’re gonna scare away all the fish, boy.” Frankie admonished, knowing the dog didn’t understand him. Even if he did, he probably wouldn’t care. “Just don’t wander off too far.”

He enjoyed the relative silence as he prepared his rod, the sounds of nature around him. It didn’t take him long until he was casting his line, keeping an eye on Charlie as he did. Once he was happy with the position, he sat on the log and cracked open a beer.

He caught a few small fish that he released back into the lake. Charlie tried to chase them, but they held the advantage against the clumsy dog in the water.

He’d been sitting for about an hour and a half when he thought he saw something further out in the lake. He watched for a second, trying to figure out what he’d spotted. It disappeared pretty quickly in a subtle wave of water and he figured it must just be a piece of driftwood. He glanced back at Charlie, who had made his way into the bush behind him. The dog was nosing around the underbrush but keeping out of trouble.

When he turned back, he saw it again. Something moved, almost a flipping motion, but it wasn’t moving in an organic way compared to the water. His instincts told him something wasn’t right. A long, thin limb of sorts came up shortly after, and Frankie could only think it looked almost like an arm. Was it a person out there?

“Hello?” Frankie called out. It was still early, probably about 7am by this point, and he hadn’t seen anyone go into the lake. He waited, straining his ears to listen for a response. He didn’t get one.

It appeared again, several yards closer than it had been moments ago, and that shape definitely looked like a head.

Charlie started barking, running out into the water. The noise startled Frankie and he sprang up from the log. He maneuvered his line, reeling it in to try to keep Charlie from getting tangled into it.

“Is someone out there?” He called. The shape disappeared once more, but Charlie kept barking, swimming out a little way before circling back so his paws were still on land.

“What is it, Charlie?” Frankie asked him, dropping his fishing rod on the ground as he walked closer to the water. “Is someone out there?”

He kicked off his shoes and socks quickly, taking a moment to toss his wallet and phone towards his cooler as he stepped into the water, ignoring the hem of his jeans wetting.

The arm appeared again.

Frankie cursed under his breath, running forward as Charlie started barking loudly again. The water resisted his movements and his jeans started to soak up more water, weighing him down uncomfortably as he rushed forward.

“Are you okay? Just stay above water!” Frankie called to the figure. He barely thought to toss his hat back towards the shore as the water came up around his thighs.

“Charlie, stay here.” He ordered the dog as he passed him. “I’m coming, just keep swimming!”

Frankie shivered - both with the temperature of the water and the thought that someone out there was drowning - as the water reached his waist. Charlie was barking and whining behind him, not liking that Frankie was heading into the water past where the poor dog was comfortable going.

The head appeared again as water passed his belly button, and Frankie called out to them again. “Are you okay? Do you need help?” They were still a ways out into the water, and Frankie couldn’t really make out any distinct features, but he did recognize a face. The person’s hair was wet, clinging to their head.

“What is that thing?” A feminine voice called back to him. She sounded unsure, but not panicked. The tone of voice surprised him, making him slow down as the water rose to his chest.

“What thing?” He called back, watching as the woman’s head stayed above water. She seemed to be treading water just fine.

“That.” Her arm came out of the water, pointing back towards shore.

Frankie looked over his shoulder, only seeing his things back on shore and Charlie pacing the shore as he barked. “My dog?” He guessed.

“It’s angry at me.” Her arm disappeared back under the water.

“I think you scared him.” Frankie tried to explain. “And he doesn’t like that I’m this far out.”

The woman didn’t speak for a moment, but her stance never faltered. She seemed to be swimming just fine. “Why are you this far out?”

“I thought you were in trouble.”

“Why would I be in trouble?”

“You’re out pretty deep.” Frankie answered sheepishly. He was starting to feel silly, standing in chest-deep water, fully clothed. He could feel the water soaking into his clothes, weighing down on him uncomfortably. “You disappeared under the waves a few times.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised at his concern.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” She confirmed.

“Okay.” Frankie nodded. A moment passed between them, neither saying anything. The awkward silence only being broken by Charlie. “Uh, be safe.”

“Thanks.”

Not really sure what to do next, Frankie waved awkwardly and started walking backwards, watching for a few more moments to make sure she was fine. She waved back, her arm cresting gracefully out of the water. He turned and sludged back to shore, grimacing as his wet jeans stuck to his legs.

#WIP Game #AU: Where The Sky Touches The Sea #wookie tales #lazybeeches

3 notes · View notes

vertigoseokjin · 4 years

Text

Break my Heart Again

Sweet Pea x Y/N x Reggie (requested)

Break my Heart Again: FINNEAS

Warning: this displays a toxic poly!relationship and self hate, hints at an abusive relationship

I’m so sorry this took forever to post! Also the ending isn’t that fluffy but-

could i request a poly! with pea, reggie & reader where pea is busy with a new, girl, serpent & reg is helping another girl for something & the reader feels jealous & neglected? angsty with a fluffy ending pls!! :)

Loud laughter echoes through your shared trailer, a sound that usually warms your heart. Yet, today, you only feel uneasy walking into you and your boyfriend's house. There's a motorcycle you've never seen parked outside, and a pair of woman's shoes that definitely don't belong to you.

Although your relationship is made out of three people, Reggie's the only one who resides on the Northside. In order to lessen the living costs, you and Sweet Pea decided to move into a trailer together shortly after the start of your relationship.

It always worked out, the three of you have never fought. Yes, you bickered very often. But that was inevitable when Reggie Mantle and Sweet Pea were anywhere near each other. Yet, you all knew you loved each other. Sure, things have been a bit tense recently, but you brushed it off as stress from school and Serpent things. But now you can't help but wonder if something else has been happening.

"Pea?" You nervously call out, slipping off your own shoes and coat. "Pea, are you home?" You can't help the small crack in your voice when you call his name.

When there's no response, you decide to venture a little further into the trailer, finally making it to the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, you knock gently on the door. "Pea? Babe, are you okay?" Again, no response. Before you can knock again, the door flies open. You flinch back at the sound of the wood colliding with the wall.

"What?" Your eyes widen, shocked at the hostile acknowledgement directed towards you. "Are you going to say anything?" His tone becomes increasingly louder and aggressive.

"I-is everything okay?" You speak through tears, already feeling choked up. Sweet Pea nor Reggie have ever screamed at you the way he is now.

"Everything was okay. Before you decided to piss me off." The tall boy practically growls while rolling his eyes, before walking back into the room and plopping onto the bed. That's when you notice the girl.

She's laying comfortably on your side of the bed, holding your laptop.

As soon as Sweet Pea lays down, she snuggles closer to him, the pair already ignoring you again.

"Pea? Who is this?" The words come out cautiously, not wanting him to blow up again.

"Charlie." He answers simply, no other explanation coming with his introduction. He presses 'play' on the movie they were watching, and the pair immediately burst out in laughter again.

"Pea..." you try again, immediately regretting your decision when Sweet Pea huffs loudly and harshly slams your laptop shut.

"What? Can't you see we're doing something! What the hell is wrong with you?!" He rapidly begins approaching you, causing you to back away in panic.

Sweet Pea never hit you, or any of his past girlfriends, before, but he also never spoke to you in such a... hateful tone. Rather than striking you like you were expecting, he slams the door shut. You shake the shock from your body, before rushing to the front door to escape Pea's rage.

With nowhere else to go, you find yourself walking in the direction of your other boyfriend's house.

Hurriedly wiping the tears from your red face, you knock gently on the door.

"I got it!" Another feminine voice shouts, not sounding like his mom's or sister's. The door opens to reveal a beautiful, tall girl. She looks to be about your age, with curly brunette hair and seemingly perfect features. Just staring at her adds to your insecurities. "Hey! I don't think we've met, I'm Jennie!" Even her stupid name and personality are perfect.

"H-hi. I...I'm (Y/N)." You fail at matching her enthusiasm. "Is Reggie home?" You force yourself to ask.

"Yeah! I'll run in and get him!" She practically skips into the house, shortly returning with a smiling Reggie. Unfortunately, his smile falls the second he sees you.

"What are you doing here?" He rolls his eyes as he speaks.

"J-just missed you..." you mumble. "I didn't know you were busy, I'm sorry. I'll go..." you drag your feet down the stairs, wishing he'd even say bye in response, but all you get is the door slamming shut.

You begin dragging your feet down the road, unsure where to go now.

Instinctively, you find yourself in front of your best friend's house, Jughead Jones. You almost talk yourself out of knocking due to fear of annoying him too, but there's nowhere else to go.

You knock quietly, the door almost flying open right away.

"(Y/N)? Sweet Pea asked me to look out for you, is everything okay?" You stare at him confused, why would Sweet Pea care about me? "(Y/N)?" Him calling your name again snaps you out of your violent thoughts.

"Sorry! I was just... yeah everything's fine. Can I come in?" You blurt out. He nods uncertainly, but steps over to let you in. "Why did Sweet Pea ask to look out for me?"

"Something about you rushing out with his jacket? I don't know, but he sounded busy." He shrugs uncaring. You look down and notice you are wearing Sweet Pea's signature jacket. You sigh, realizing he doesn't actually care about you. He just needs his jacket. "Everything okay?" He seats himself on the couch, patting the spot next to him.

"Yeah..." you simply mumble, not wanting to get into details about your failing relationship.

"I don't think you'd be here if that was true." He dryly chuckles.

"It's whatever, Jug. Can I spend the night? Thanks." You get up quickly, wanting to avoid the conversation. You hear his delayed yes, but still make a beeline to his spare room.

"I know you don't want to talk, but maybe a date at Pop's with them would clear things up? The three of you should sit and talk." Jughead suggests, leaning on the door frame. You almost laugh at how well he's able to read any situation.

"You're right, I just don't feel like dealing with it right now. They're busy anyway."

"Busy? With what? Charlie?" Your eyes almost bug out of your head.

"You know Charlie?" You almost shout at him.

"Newest Serpent." Jughead states factually. "Sweet Pea threw a tantrum about initiation, got her in without doing the dance." He can't stop the eye roll that comes with his words, where you get chills from remembering your own initiation.

"Really? Do you know anything about her?"

"Not really, she's quiet though. I never really got a chance to speak to her." You release another sigh at his words.

"I bet she's nice. And pretty." A loud groan escapes your mouth following your rant. "Reggie has a new girl too, and she's perfect. I can't compete." Jughead smiles sadly, sitting next to you and hugging you close.

"You don't need to compete, (Y/N). You're perfect." You can't help but let your mood rise a bit after his words.

"You always know how to make me feel better, Juggie."

"Of course. Get some rest, alright? Talk to them tomorrow." He ruffles your hair messily, before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You're able to sleep with your spirits lifted a little.

___________________________________________________________________________

The next day, the three of you decided to meet at Pop's for lunch.

You leave Jughead's with a heavy heart after he leaves a gentle kiss to your forehead, in a perfectly brotherly manner.

After the fairly short walk, you decide to get a booth, knowing they tend to arrive late.

You're hoping to get a fixed relationship out of the conversation.

However, you're met with surprise when you see four seated at a booth, instead of two like you were expecting.

Reggie, Sweet Pea, Charlie, and Jennie are all seated together.

You cautiously walk up to their table, unsure how to act.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Jennie says cheerfully. "We ordered fries for you!" She pushes a plate full of clearly half eaten fries in your direction. You still crack a little smile at the the effort.

"I... I just thought it was gonna be the three of us?" You ask weakly, still standing over their booth. Rather than a response from the two you came to meet, Jennie pops in again with a small gasp.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know we were intruding! Here, me and Charlie can grab another table!" Jennie goes to collect her stuff, before being stopped by Reggie.

"No, it's fine. I don't know why she's acting like that." Reggie rolls his eyes, Sweet Pea and Charlie still not even bothering to look at you.

"Reggie, it's really our fault. We should've known it was a date when you said (Y/N) was coming." The bright smile still doesn't leave her face.

"It's okay, sorry Jennie." You finally force yourself to speak. "I was just a little confused, I'll pull a chair over." You leave to find an empty chair, dragging it over to the head of the table. Yet, once you sit, the group resume in their previous conversation, excluding you. You just sit quietly, pushing your plate of fries around, having lost your appetite from the interaction.

"Alright, I think we're gonna head home." Reggie finally acknowledges you. Jennie and he begin collecting their stuff, leaving you unsure on what to do.

All you want to do is lay down on your own bed, maybe cry a little, and just go to sleep. But you don't know if Sweet Pea and Charlie are going to your trailer.

"Yeah, us too." Sweet Pea follows, stretching as he gets up from the booth.

"Pea? Are you going home?" You finally gather the courage to ask, holding your breath as you wait for a response.

"Why?" He snaps again, still not looking at you.

Does he hate me that much he can't even look at me?

"I... I do-don't want to bother y-you guys if yo-you're going ba-back to the trailer." You struggle to get the words out.

"Good, cause we are." He rolls his eyes again, shoving past you, Charlie closely following.

"Hey, (Y/N), Reggie and I were going to head back to my place. Would you want to come? We're probably watching a movie or something." She smiles sweetly at you, but you still let yourself be swayed by the look of disgust on Reggie's face.

"It's alright, but thank you for the offer." You mumble, staring at your torn up shoes.

"Are you sure? Don't you live with Sweet Pea? Where are you spending the night?"

"I'll figure it out, Jennie. But thank you for caring." You try to give her a genuine smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"Alright, good night (Y/N)!" Her and Reggie leave you sitting alone in the chair you pulled over, once again not knowing where to go.

After a deep sigh and covering your face with your hands, you pull yourself up and let your feet guide you. Talking yourself out of bothering Jughead again, you decide to break into his father's office instead.

FP Jones barely uses it anyway, it's more of a storage room. But, lucky for you, there's a recliner big enough for you to spend the long night.

You sadly curl up on the chair, allowing yourself to shed a few tears, before calling it a night. _____________________________________________________________________

Unfortunately, a voice wakes you before your alarm goes off.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing?" You roll off the sofa in surprise, making eye contact with the owner of the office you broke into.

"Mr. Jones! Sorry! I was going to leave in the morning but I fell asleep... I'm so sorry. I'll clean everything up an-" he simply holds a hand up to silence you.

"Don't worry about it. You didn't even touch anything." You sigh in relief, feeling thankful for your close relationship with him. "But you are going to explain to me what you're doing in my office at the ass crack of dawn." He plops himself down on his office chair, scanning your disheveled appearance.

"I don't really wanna talk about it..." you mumble, trying to get out of the situation.

"Then you shouldn't have broken into my office. C'mon, spill." A deep sigh escapes your lips, before you finally nod in defeat.

"It's Sweet Pea and Reggie," your voice is barely audible, too embarrassed to properly speak to the gang leader about your relationship drama.

"They hurting you?" His posture immediately stiffens into a defensive stance, causing panic to course through you.

"No! Of course not! They'd never, Mr. Jones."

"Then what's the problem?"

"They've just been ignoring me, I guess." You mumble sadly.

"Charlie?" You hate how the Jones's know you so well. You're unable to hide any thought or problem from them.

"...yeah, and this other Northsider. Jennie. They're... perfect, Mr. Jones. And I'm not. I can't blame them." He responds to your self hate with a soft sigh, not knowing how to respond.

Teenage problems have changed a lot since he was growing up.

"Don't put yourself down like that, kid." FP replies with uncertainty, never really the best at advice. His dad would just smack him over the head and tell him to get his shit together.

"It's okay, Mr. Jones. I'll get going, thank you for letting me stay the night."

"Course, Charlie. My office is always open for you to break in to." You try to smile in response, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. Then, you swiftly exit his office, still embarrassed from being caught in the first place.

You sigh to yourself, still so confused.

When did everything get so complicated?

_______________________________________________________

You walked over to Jughead's house again, still temporarily homeless. As always, he welcomes you happily, deciding to kill time by cuddling and watching a movie. Always unable to stay awake during movies, you feel your eyes drifting shut right after Jughead points out the most important part. Still, you rest your head fully on Jughead's shoulder and pull him a little closer.

"Hey, your phone's blowing up." He rasps, shaking you awake gently. You thanked him softly, squinting as the light from your phone burned your eyes. You were shocked when you saw your phone practically flooded with texts from Sweet Pea and Reggie. "Who's it?" He slurs, tiredness obviously hindering his actions.

"Pea and Reg." You mumble, throwing your phone to the side.

"You're not responding?" He woke up a little more at the sound of the names causing you so much distress.

"No." You answer firmly, with no thought, just holding him tighter. Jughead releases a quiet laugh at your answer, but has no problem with accepting it.

They can wait.

________________________________________

Later that night, you finally forced yourself to answer their endless calls and texts. Your phone is filled with panicked texts and voicemails wondering where you disappeared to.

You roll over on the bed you decided to share with Jughead for the night, seeing he's still asleep. Not wanting to bother him, you slowly roll out of his bed, leaving him a note about your situation.

You call Sweet Pea, curious of his sudden care towards you.

"Hey," you're so shocked of him answering right away you forget to respond. "Babe?"

"Yea-Yeah! Hi!" You almost shout.

"Reg and I were wondering if you want to have a movie night? We haven't seen you in a while." You hold back a scoff, choosing to keep the air clear.

"O-okay. Can I come over now?" You ask weakly. You almost want to ask if Charlie and Jennie are going to be there, but you hold yourself back. You start walking in the direction of Reggie's house, assuming the movie night is hosted by him as usual. The walk isn't too long, maybe 15 minutes, and the weather was nice so you weren't complaining. You really did miss them.

"Of course. Meet us at Reggie's." Always a man of few words, you assume the conversation is over there. However, you bring the phone back to your ear when you hear them speak again.

"Hello?" But you go unanswered.

"I don't know, Reg. She's been getting on my nerves lately." You don't want to eavesdrop, but you're unable to help it. You know you should hang up, but your relationship has been on the verge of completely falling apart, and you'd do almost anything if it even gave you a chance at fixing it.

"(Y/N)? I know what you mean." You can almost hear the eye roll that came along with the agreement. "She's so clingy. It was cute at first, but I don't know if I can keep up."

"...we shouldn't make it too obvious though, right? We have been ignoring her recently, she doesn't deserve that." A gentle smile cracks through your face when you hear the little concern he has for you, but it quickly fades at the remembrance of their previous words.

"I mean, I guess." You can almost hear the shrug that comes with those words, Sweet Pea needs to maintain his careless persona.

Finally deciding you heard enough, you hang up and gather the courage to knock on the door.

"Coming!" Reggie's deep voice shouts. The door flies open quickly, his smiling face greeting you.

"Hi." You say quietly, genuinely not wanting to annoy them with the sound of your voice.

"Hey babe!" Reggie exclaims, coming closer to embrace you.

How can he be acting so normal? You ask yourself.

"Hey." You utter another greeting, but trying to avoid his hug.

"Babe? Is everything okay?" Slipping off your shoes and dropping your bag neatly by the door, you respond with a gentle nod. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I just think I'm coming down with something..." your voice lowers in volume with every word, eyes drifting to stare at the floor.

"Really? Do you need tea? Medicine? PEA! Boil some hot water!" Reggie commands, coming closer to try and embrace you again, to which you back away quickly.

"No! It's okay!" You internally panic at the thought of bothering Sweet Pea with your needs. "I don't need anything, I'm fine." Reggie still stares at you uncertainty, but accepting the odd behavior.

"...okay, just let us know if you need anything. We missed you!" You only nod in response, trying to reduce the amount of times you speak to them in a day.

"Hi, sweetheart." Another deep voice sounds from behind you. You flinch at the sudden appearance, turning to face your other boyfriend. "You feeling okay?" Instead of allowing a gentle forehead kiss to happen, something that always helped you relax, you rapidly nod your head so he doesn't attempt to come closer than he already is.

"I'm fine." You squeak out again, walking past both of them to sit on the couch.

The pair share a suspicious look behind your back, before shrugging and coming to join you on the couch.

Sweet Pea beats Reggie to the spot next to you, immediately pulling you closer to him and attempting to cuddle with you. However, you hurriedly shove his arm off, moving to sit on the recliner positioned diagonal from the couch.

"I think I'm sick, I don't want to give you my virus." You make up on the spot, curling up in a ball in your seat.

"Babe, it's alright if you're sick. We don't care." Reggie approaches you slowly, placing his hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in so you can't run again. "It'll be more comfortable if you sit on the couch with us, come on."

"I just feel hot, Reggie. It's cooler over here." You mumble again, curling under the blanket draped over the recliner. He sends you an odd look, but shrugs when he realizes he's in a losing battle.

"Alright..." he takes a seat next to Sweet Pea, the pair sharing a blanket with their eyes glued to the movie playing. You smile sadly at the sight of them sitting together. They look... perfect. It only adds to how out of place you've been feeling lately. You sitting in the middle of them would just ruin the picture perfect image.

Another gentle sigh escapes you, but you try to focus on the movie instead of them.

"Hey, babe, don't you like that actor?" Reggie asks, but you just nod stiffly, not even sure what or who they're talking about. You've long since zoned out of the movie, you wouldn't even be able to tell them the title if they asked. You miss the look they exchange, the only actors on the screen are from an infomercial about adult diapers. Something's clearly wrong with you.

"Okay, do we need to talk about something?" Sweet Pea finally cuts through the awkwardness, turning the TV off. "You're acting weirder than normal." He directs towards you, but you still refuse to make eye contact.

"No." A short answer, still trying to not talk around them.

"(Y/N), it'll be easier if you just talk to us." Reggie tries to urge you into speaking. You finally lift your head up, looking rapidly between the two of them. "You know you can tell us anything." He smiles softly, trying to ease you into speaking. You shut your eyes tightly, before taking a deep breath.

"I think we should break up." You finally blurt out without thinking. The two boys' mouths widen in shock, not fully comprehending your words.

"Break up? Why?" Sweet Pea can't stop the anger flooding into his tone from your impulsive suggestion.

"Just... because." You mutter, not knowing how to vocalize your thoughts from the last month.

"Sweetie, we're gonna need more than a 'because' if you want to break up." Sweet Pea's naturally condescending tone makes you feel even worse about the situation.

"I-I don't know." You stupidly say, opting to stare at your hands.

"You don't know?" He stands up suddenly, rapidly walking towards you.

"Pea, calm down." Reggie snaps, blocking your body from Sweet Pea. "We're going to sit down and have a calm conversation, does that work for everyone?" You just nod, Sweet Pea rolling his eyes in anger.

"Whatever." He grumbles, sitting down in his previous seat on the couch.

"Baby, you have to have a reason." Reggie tries again.

"I just don't want to bother you anymore..." you mutter, tearing up slightly.

"Bother us?" Sweet Pea's tone softens slightly, but he's still in a slightly defensive stance.

"I mean... you guys have new people now." You chuckle slightly. "You don't really need me anymore. We haven't even talked in at least a month. You're all so happy with Jennie and Charlie, I don't want to be in the middle of it anymore." They stare at you in what you're assuming is anger. "I'll just go guys. I'm sorry for ruining your night." You get up quickly, making a beeline for the door. However, both of the men stop you, Sweet Pea picking you up and gently placing you back on the couch. You're surprised to see the tears in his eyes.

"Baby... baby we're so sorry." He cries into your shoulder, causing your own tears to fall.

"No, don't say sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't better for you." You choke out through sobs.

"That's not true." Reggie rasps, tears flooding his own eyes. The three of you sit huddled together on the couch, unable to speak anymore through the never ending sobs.

"We love you, baby." Sweet Pea finally breaks the silence, pressing a small kiss to her cheek after wiping her tears.

"We love you so much." Reggie adds, squeezing the both of you tighter. Their hearts break when they hear your little sobs and Sweet Pea goes to wipe your tears.

"Can we fix this?" You finally force yourself to ask, still not able to see a solution within the love they're giving you.

"Of course!" Reggie and Sweet Pea exclaim loudly.

"We'll do whatever we need to make up for it." Reggie tearfully promises, kissing your forehead.

You feel nothing but love being in their arms in this moment, but something doesn't feel right still.

You still have so many questions.

"But... why were you so mean?" In any other scenario, the boys would have swooned at how adorable your childlike tone came off. Yet, it only breaks their heart more. It's another reminder at how badly they messed up.

"I don't know, baby. I-"

"That's not good enough!" They also jump away in shock at your sudden outburst. Your voice hardly ever went past a gentle whisper. "I- you all made me feel worthless! I spent this past month wondering what I did wrong and I couldn't even go home because you and Charlie were always in our room! I need more than an I don't know." Your anger is radiating off of you, but you can only feel proud at finally standing up for yourself. But they just stare at you blankly. "If you don't have an answer, I'm going to go back to Jug's house until you know what you want from me."

"No, let's just sit and-"

"I waited a month, Reggie. I need an answer now."

"Honestly, we don't have one." Sweet Pea bluntly states. "I know you want an explanation and reasons, but we can't give you one. But we can give you a promise to never let it happen again. Hell, we won't even need to contact Charlie or Jennie ever again," Reggie nods in agreement, "so, can we try again?"

"Yeah, we're so sorry, baby." Reggie chimes in. "We love you more than anything and I can't believe how badly we messed up. Just give us a second chance, baby? Please?"

You know you shouldn't. Everything is screaming at you to run away back to your safety and forget about them, let them be happy with their new girls.

But... the amount of love in their eyes right now makes it hard to doubt their truthfulness.

"Okay." You mumble weakly. "Okay. Let's try again." You're suddenly tackled by two large figures, the three of you collapsing onto the couch. They start peppering every inch of your face and neck in kisses, causing giggles to erupt from all of you.

You suddenly feel like you won't regret this decision.

212 notes · View notes

goldenonionstan · 3 years

Photo

| chapter one

| the sound of forgetting

summary: after being wrongly accused of the murder of her fiancé, Bella Swan is trying to find stability in her broken life. Until a mysterious brown-haired boy reveals a harrowing secret about the man she loved, and she embarks on a time-bending journey to clear her name…

a/n: hooray harooh harrah i finished chapter one and this baby is ready to go! i can’t communicate to you how pumped i am to explore this world and all the dark fantasy that comes with it! let me know what you think x

October 14th, 2012

It was still dark when I pulled my ancient Chevrolet pick-up into the parking lot of the café, and I settled the beast into an open space next to Dad's favorite oak tree. Killing the engine, I reveled in the heat of the truck's cab, bracing myself for the crisp, Washington air that awaited me outside. Unfortunately, I always drew the short straw when it came to taking the early morning shifts from my siblings – Seth and Leah knew how to get exactly what they wanted from Sue.

"Morning, Dad," I called out as I strode into the café, hitting the switch for the neon OPEN sign that hung on the front door; it awoke with a dull hum. Garish lights reflected off the green gingham tablecloths Charlie had bought the other day from Billy Black – I made a mental note to look for replacements when I got home.

"Morning, sweet pea," He replied from the kitchen, and I could hear bacon already sizzling on the grill.

Dad had been the proud owner of Clearwater's Bites, sharing the responsibility with his wife, Sue, for almost ten years. Nestled into the sleepy heart of Forks, Washington, Charlie had surprised Sue with the café as an engagement present after she told him about her life-long dream of owning a restaurant. In the summer of 2002, he became the head-chef, Sue ran the front-of-house, and waitressing shifts were shared out between me, Seth and Leah. I was happy to see that the place was still standing when I was released from prison.

I doubted anyone else would have wanted to hire a convicted murderer to make small talk with their regulars.

"Expecting it to be busy today?" I inquired, making polite small talk as I rolled napkins neatly around pairs of knives and forks.

"Not too sure, Bells. It is a Sunday so I doubt we'll be rammed, but, then again, I could be wrong. We'll have to see."

Thank goodness, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief into the growing stack of cutlery; at least there wouldn't be so many whispers and stares.

"Sounds good, Dad! I'm sure we'll be able to hold down the fort!"

I enjoyed working shifts with Charlie – neither of us were particularly big talkers, so we worked side-by-side in comfortable silence, nodding at each other as we passed. While he set about preparing for the breakfast shift, I worked at serving the odd customer, giving the place a scrub when we were quiet – my siblings were not as pedantic at cleaning as I was, so I think Charlie and Sue were happy to have me in the shop.

The early birds were my favorite people to serve because, where the café was quiet, I was able to pay close attention to what they ordered. Gladys, along with her Labrador, Skip, came in for her regular one-shot cappuccino with extra chocolate dusting, while an elderly gentleman in a bowler hat ordered a simple tea and sat against the far-window, reading a newspaper. I let my mind conjure a story where the two used to be high-school sweethearts, but were torn apart when Gladys' mother died, and she went to live with her aunt. After seven years with very little to do, I had learned to become reliant on my imagination.

It was around two hours into my shift that a stream of customers began to build, and our small parking lot became crammed with a plethora of vehicles. A buzz of chatter filled the room as people shared stories over cups of steaming liquid, and my heart swelled. When people were paying little attention to me, I felt content to find myself amongst a crowd again.

"Welcome to Clearwater's Bites," I chirped cheerfully, placing two laminated menus before a new table of customers. They were two brawny construction workers, and both wore black t-shirts that clung to their bulging chests, stained with streaks of paint and dust. "What can I get for you today?"

"Aren't you the woman who murdered her fiancé?"

The pen began to shake between my fingers, but I couldn't tell whether it was from anger or the tears that stung my eyes. My prison sentence came to an end a month ago, and, although the accident happened in 2005, my presence in town seemed to stir up old memories. The front page of every national press had covered the story from the moment the coastguard pulled The Victoria to shore, and I had been led off the deck in handcuffs. I would get the occasional inquiry as to whether I was happy to be back in town, or what I planned to do with my time now I had returned to Forks.

It was the direct questions that always threw me off.

"Uhm," I murmured, struggling to get my thoughts straight. "No, I don't think that was me, but I appreciate the inquiry."

"Oh, come on, it's definitely you! Isabella, isn't it?" The weaker of the two men smirked as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the view of my beat-up Levi's from behind. "I would recognize that ass anywhere."

I clicked my tongue against my teeth as I turned away from his gaze and looked around briefly to see if anyone had overheard what he said. No-one seemed to be paying attention to our interaction.

"Would you like some tea with that misogyny, Paul?" His friend remarked from behind his menu, throwing a glare in his direction. Paul sat back up in his chair.

"Would you just fuck off, Jake? I'm only messing with the pretty lady." He turned back to me. "You were definitely the lass I had pinned up in my locker last year."

"That's wonderful. Do you want me to autograph it for you?"

"Ay, Mami, is this that famous temper of yours? Hopefully, there's no sharp objects around."

Paul winked; I seethed.

"It's eight in the morning, for Christ's sake," Paul's tanned friend spat as he handed me his menu. "We'll take two Americanos. Black, no sugar."

"No problem," I replied, plastering my best customer service smile across my face. "Coming right up!"

"You could always leave me your number instead," Paul hollered at me as I shuffled back behind the counter, drowning out my racing thoughts with the noisy whirr of grinding coffee beans.

"Alright, sweetheart?" Charlie poked his head around the entrance to the kitchen, forehead glittering with sweat. He held two plates of eggs in his hands. "Not causing you trouble, are they?"

I punched the double-shot button a little too hard on our clunky coffee machine, watching the black liquid splutter into the awaiting cup. "Nothing I can't handle, Dad."

"Are you sure? I haven't seen them around before, so I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I told them to move along?"

I peeked over at the men again as I waited for their cups to fill. Paul sat texting on a cell-phone, no doubt something about me; his friend…Jake, I think it was, glanced over and smiled. I darted my gaze back to the coffee.

"Honestly, Dad, it's chill," I placed the now-steaming cups of coffee onto two saucers, grabbing a pot of sugar cubes. "Like you said, they're not regulars. Probably won't ever see them again."

Charlie nodded. "Chin up, Princess, don't let-"

"-Your tiara fall," I finished, turning back towards Paul and Jake. "I got it, Dad."

Gingerly returning to their table, I placed a cup in front of each of the men and practically ran back behind the counter before they could make any more remarks. I avoided looking in their direction for the duration of their stay, feeling relaxed as I watched them take the last swigs of their drinks.

Until Jake started walking towards the counter. Feeling my heart in my stomach, I pretended to be writing something on a spare blackboard.

"Hey," He said, standing awkwardly in front of the register. "I just came to bring this back. No sugar, remember?"

He placed the neglected sugar pot in front of me; I shook my head. "Oops, sorry. Just one of those mornings."

"No problem, I get that." He chuckled. "I kept waiting for you to come back to collect it. Seemed like you were avoiding our table…?"

"You're observant," I remarked. "Didn't want your friend to harass me again."

"Yeah, I also came over to say sorry about Paul. He's a bit too forward sometimes."

"Don't worry, I'm used to it." I picked up the sugar pot and wiggled it. "Thanks for bringing this back."

Jake smiled, and we stood there in silence for a moment. His brown eyes bore into mine for longer than I expected, and I looked away, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Right, I completely forgot to introduce myself, I'm Jake-" He stretched his hand towards me. "Jacob Black. My father owns the furniture shop in town."

"Isabella Swan," I giggled, taking his outstretched hand. "You must know my dad then. Charlie?"

"Probably not, I only just moved into town. I used to live with my Mom."

"Oh, cool, what happened to your Mom, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It's nothing like that, she just got remarried." Jacob looked at the floor. "Moved to Canada."

"Didn't fancy it?"

"Not really; wasn't up for moving sticks, I'd just got my job here."

"Construction, yeah?"

"At Forks High School."

"Nice – I used to go there, definitely could have used a revamp back then."

"Well, luckily we're here now!" We both smiled at each other. "That must mean you know Forks pretty well?"

I crooked an eyebrow at him. "Hmm, it depends why you're asking..."

"I was looking for a tour guide if you were up for it? Need someone to show me the ins and outs, stuff like that."

"Paul's not good enough for that?" Looking behind him, I expected to see his friend leering at us, but I was pleasantly surprised to find an empty table.

"He's not the greatest company."

"That's fair. I'm working the next coupla' nights, but maybe Thursday? I get off at 6."

"Sounds great." Flashing another smile, I realized how perfect his teeth were.

"Perfect – I'll show you the literal two bars in town."

Jacob took a napkin from the stack next to the counter, and pulled a pen from his back pocket, roughly scribbling down a series of numbers before handing it to me. "My number. Call if you need to cancel."

"I'll try not to," I flushed. "See you Thursday."

"Looking forward to it."

My heartbeat did not slow to a regular pace until Jake had safely clambered into his truck, and I watched Paul drive them out of the parking lot. I hadn't been the subject of a man's affection for what seemed like a lifetime. Had it always made me this giddy?

"Hey, Bells," Charlie's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"What's up, Dad?"

"Would you mind making me up a large pot of tea? I'm just going to say hello to Carlisle over there!"

Nodding eagerly, I set about grabbing our best porcelain pot from the shelf, settling the open-top under the tap of hot water, and switched it on. Charlie always spoke highly of Carlisle, a doctor who worked at the local hospital, and I was always in awe of his wife, Esme, when she accompanied him for a coffee and a croissant. They looked perfect, like models, with porcelain-smooth skin, and matching caramel-colored hair. I felt scrawny and inferior in comparison.

He occupied the corner table, where the elderly gentleman had sat this morning, but his wife was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was joined by a statuesque blonde with legs for days, a Herculean man who looked like he could break my head between one bicep, and a willowy boy with unruly, russet hair. Despite his form being covered by a long-sleeved black roll-beck, I could see his hands were extremely pale. In fact, they all were.

They all looked as though they had never felt a drop of Vitamin D in their lives.

Dad tottered over to their table, shaking Carlisle's hand with a grin. He had it draped on the shoulder of the tall, pale boy when I arrived with the tea.

"Ah, Isabella, perfect timing! This is Rosalie and Emmett, Carlisle's niece and her boyfriend," Charlie said, gesturing at the blonde and her burly man; I nodded politely and they returned the favor. "And this is Edward, Carlisle's son."

Once again, I nodded in the direction of Edward but he only grunted in response, grabbing for the pot of tea, and pouring himself a cup. Compared to Jacob, he had the manners of a toilet brush.

"He's a little shy," Emmett reassured, nudging Edward in the ribs.

"No worries," I blathered. "Enjoy!"

I hurried back to the counter almost as quickly as before, except I was sure no one was trying to stare at my butt this time. I knew Edward did not owe me anything – it had been a pretty awkward introduction from Charlie anyway – but a smile wouldn't have hurt anyone. I glanced back over towards Carlisle's table and caught Edward staring at me, eyebrows furrowed together. Just as Jacob had done earlier, I pulled my lips into a tight smile. He cocked his head to one side, briefly, as though mentally sizing me up. Finally, he smirked back, turning then to engage in passionate conversation with his family of perfect specimens.

I had a feeling, deep within me, that this wasn’t going to be the last time I saw this brown-haired boy.

#htda #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight fic #twilight renaissance #twilight au #bellaxedward #fantasymystery #new fic #historical #bella swan #edward cullen #chapter one #updates on mondays chicks x

5 notes · View notes

batgirl-87 · 4 years

Note

Hey! I love your last ask, the questions are really well thought and I'm curious about 12, 16, 17, 18 and 19 👀if you want 💜

Thank you so much for asking! Sorry it took me so long to answer! Life happens -_-

From this ask

12. What was MC’s reaction learning Bill and Charlie’s little sister went missing her First year?

Physically restraining her and holding her back from storming into Hogwarts and causing a RIOT! She will find poor Ginny probably trapped in some damn Vault again! CURSE THESE VAULTS - oh wait a minute....

But wait, why didn’t every single Weasley, all the older protective brothers storm into Hogwarts to find their little sister? Did they not find out until later?! Did Percy, Fred, George, and Ron just neglect to inform Bill and Charlie that Ginny was missing until found? Prove they could handle it? Or did Bill and Charlie believe in the rest of their siblings that they could handle it and trust them...Nah, big brothers would storm in and find her. They’d be damned if they just sat around and waited for her to be found!

Assuming they all did not learn until afterwards, still would have to hold her back from storming into Hogwarts, most likely to no avail. Some going off on Ron and the rest of the brothers - Why are they only finding out about this now?! Yes, they handled it and got her back BUT STILL kind of a BIG thing to hide from your family! And then of course storming into Dumbledore’s office and going off yet again to which he is probably very used to at this point. A FIRST YEAR GOES MISSING AND WTF DO YOU DO?! THIS IS THE VAULTS AND BEATRICE ALL OVER AGAIN! WATCH YOURSELF OLD MAN! Going to shave that damn beard off, tie it into a noose and - Yeah, she’s not going to be very happy.

And of course once she gets all her anger out, she’ll ask Ginny if she’s okay and check with how she’s doing. And if they did find out while she was missing and Bill and Charlie somehow decided to allow their brothers to handle it and get Keira to calm tf down and not go storming back to Hogwarts (idk how tbh =p) she would be caring and comforting towards them, ask them how they’re doing, if they need anything, if there’s anything she can do, what they’ve heard - and also just do little things to reduce any stress she can. Look she cooked or got them food! And cleaned! Let’s go look at the baby dragons! You’re hair is looking fabulous today - I mean, it always looks good, but today extra bouncy.

16. What was MC’s reaction to Tonks getting married and having a child?

I’m sorry, she’s marrying who now? Remus? Like...Keira’s Uncle Remus? Secret Werewolf Remus? Her anam cara Remus?! HER COUSIN AND UNCLE WTF - well obviously they’re not related BUT STILL THEY’RE HER FAMILY!

She’s going to need a moment.

SHE’S PREGNANT?! THEY - She’s going to need several moments...Clearly this is a lot for her to process on many different levels. She may have malfunctioned for a moment.

But once she processes things - also the fact that imagining Tonks married and a mom, like that’s so grown up and mature and it’s a little difficult to wrap her head around Tonks as a wife and mother instead of the rebellious punk prankster with colorful hair - alright, she’s going to make an awesome mom, that’s not the point. The point is, again, it just seems like such a grown up thing and Keira doesn’t even see herself really as a grown up =p She still see her and Tonks as teenage cousins getting into shenanigans, even as technically adults, rebelling against the system a bit and stirring some things up in their careers. Getting married and having a kid - wow.... are they getting old? Existential crisis time!

BUT then! They both deserve to be happy. If anyone deserves to be happy it’s Remus Lupin. And they make each other happy. And she fully accepts him and loves him as he is, Werewolf and all. Of course she would, she’s not a judgemental person! They’re happy and in love and that’s all Keira wants for them, to be happy and loved. And once she gets over the weirdness they’re adorable... and then it get’s a little weird again... but still cute...but weird... Hugging is fine, a little peck but so help her if a kiss lasts too long SHE CAN’T! Got to go, cannot see this, do not want to see this - HER EYES! =p

OH! And if you think they’re sneaking off to get married without her there HAHAHAHA THEY ARE SORELY MISTAKEN! If you don’t think Keira and Jacob (and Sirius because no I can’t let him die I JUST CAN’T) don’t come strutting in with Back in Black playing in the background to be the best man and woman/maid and man of honor - whatever - right before they take their vows, confused as to how they found out and found them then you are wrong. So very wrong! One might even officiate, who knows! Getting married without them HA! Nice try.

17. What are MC’s opinions on the Golden Trio and the happenings at Hogwarts after they left?

Ron - Aww little Ronny! Look at him growing up, he’s getting so big now! She remembers when he was little!

There’s a lot of affectionate teasing and reminiscing of embarrassing childhood stories that Keira feels maybe his friends need to hear =p A lot of messing with his hair and forcing him into tight hugs that again may embarrass him. Honestly, he views her as his older sister. He pretty much grew up with her or hearing about her from Bill, Charlie, even Percy and the Twins. She would come to visit and she’s very close with his two eldest brothers, even working with Bill, and every time she’s around him she treats him like her little brother. She’s been a big part of his life for most of what he can remember. He grew up hearing stories about her adventures at Hogwarts with his brothers so he should have been better prepared honestly for everything he had to deal with when he attended.

I’m sure he tried to brag even about her. “Yeah, my brother Bill is a Curse Breaker and his partner is Keira Black - yeah, the one who dealt with all the cursed vaults here - allegedly...” “My brother Charlie works with dragons but he could have gone on to play Quidditch professionally. Actually, his girlfriend - fiance? Unofficial wife? - played in the World Cup. And won. She could have played professionally too.” *insert Oliver Wood fangirling over Charlie and Keira’s Quidditch skills and how skilled their children would be!* “My big brothers and their friends would sneak into the Forbidden Forest all the time.” - but he doesn’t want to do that necessarily =p

But then after all his bragging when she’d actually appear and he’d get all embarrassed and wouldn’t want his friends to meet her because she just embarrassed him =p Sure Bill and Charlie partook in this as well. Likes to brag about his cool older siblings but no one actually meet them because they’ll embarrass them. Also they’re all giant dorks. Bill and Charlie smashing tables into each other when they’re supposed to be setting up for the wedding? All of them obsessed with their hair in some way.

“Bill, remember that time you were obsessed with Emily Tyler and you had to ask ME to ask her out for you because you were too afraid!” - Some brave Curse-Breaker he is.

“Well, remember when you dunked yourself into the courtyard fountain in the middle of the day? Then you were stuck with soaking clothes for the rest of classes that day. Everybody thought you were mad. Definitely looked mad.”

But she and Charlie were definitely the first people Ron thought of to help get Norbert safely out of Hogwarts, specifically her to get Norbert to Charlie if he couldn’t make it himself.

“Remember when you came into the Prefect’s bathroom and dove into my bath and Charlie walked in - he was so upset!” - Which would then lead to a series of embarrassing stories of Charlie because he foolishly thought being quiet and not sharing stories back and forth as Keira and Bill were would somehow save him from this but nope. Ron can’t have his friends hearing all these stories about them after bragging about them to his friends! Humiliating.

Hermione - She should be in Ravenclaw. She’s so smart and her hair is amazing. She should be the chosen one. Are we sure she’s really not? Thank Merlin for her because without her Ron and Harry would be doomed! I think there’s mutual respect between the girls.

Harry - Ohhhhh the special chosen one... Isn’t he so great and amazing -_-

Oh is there some bitterness and animosity from Keira towards Harry. She went through so much hell at school, broke all these curses to save people only to get punished and reprimanded by teachers and other adults, and had nasty rumours spread about her around school from the students, called cursed herself - no one appreciated all she did for them and that school! All the sacrifices and people she lost!

But Harry freakin’ Potter here basically gets a parade everywhere he goes and can do no wrong - HONESTLY. He caught the Golden Snitch in his mouth and won the game - she literally won the World Cup. Guess who got more praise and admiration. Dumbledore clearly favoring Harry when Keira feels he was not really on her side or supported her much.

Now, she gets it, he didn’t ask for this - but she didn’t ask for her role either that was thrust upon her but at least he gets love for his while she was shunned.

It’s an interesting dynamic where she can definitely empathize with his situation, having this responsibility thrust on him he didn’t ask for and constantly fighting of his and his friend’s lives, not wanting to put his friend’s at risk, being so confused about wtf is going on - she’s been there, she gets it. And when Ron requests her to give Harry some advice and help him out because he needs it and she’s the only one really who understands she agrees - mainly for Ron and his little puppy dog eyes - he’s adorable, how could she say no?! And she listens to Harry and validates him, because yeah, his feelings are totally valid and true, and tries to offer some advice based on her experiences and they sort of bond, and it’s not like she wants him to die or anything bad to happen to this kid! She’s not a horrible person! But she still has this resentment towards him, or at least the praise and adoration he gets, which again really isn’t his fault but... She also has a hard time being sympathetic to all the danger he’s experiencing because she dealt with so much so it’s like - yeah, yours isn’t really that bad =p You think your life is so hard? Psh, classic teenager.

So she offers her advice and to be someone to talk to for Harry if he needs it per Ron’s request and they sort of bond and she may even offer some help with things such as sneaking into the Forbidden Forest.

BUT THEN

Sirius breaks out of Azkaban and it’s all Harry, Harry, Harry. HARRY?! HARRY FREAKING POTTER AGAIN?! Oh, Harry is his godson and he looks like James and reminds him of his friends he misses and he just wants to make sure he’s safe with everything he’s dealing with, sure his life is hard - oh what a supportive fucking person for Harry - WHAT ABOUT HER, HELLO?! She’s actually related to you! Sir! And she went through hell herself at Hogwarts. Didn’t go right to see her - okay she was probably in Egypt or Romania when he did BUT NOT THE POINT - straight to Harry because he’s the most important person in the world apparently! (I have an AU sort of story I really need to finish where Sirius actually breaks out during Keira’s 6th year I believe...no wait maybe 7th but even still clearly Sirius loves Harry and they have a special connection/bond and yeah Keira can get jealous).

Oh Keira may have hated Harry for awhile. And yeah, she gets it, Sirius has been through hell in prison, Harry is the only link to James and Lily who he loved and misses terribly, and those people he lives with are awful and Sirius would provide him a much better home that Harry deserves because no one deserves abuse - but Sirius is her family! Blood family! And she went through hell about being a scandalous member of the House of Black and admired Sirius honestly so much and then she finally gets to see him and he’s obsessed with Harry! She might just kill Harry herself. You’re welcome, Voldy! Jealous Aunty Bella? She’s that bitch that killed Harry =p

She wouldn’t actively try to kill him but there were moment at the top of the stairs where she thought of giving him a little nudge and claiming he tripped and fell down them.

Thank Merlin for Remus who always managed to be there for Harry and Keira and not show any sort of favoritism because he loves them and cares about them both. And is also a helpful voice of reason to Sirius who honestly doesn’t seem to get it =p Because Sirius is happy to see her and Jacob too, don’t get him wrong! And he’s proud of how she handled everything and what she’s done in her life, but feels like she did all that without him, like she doesn’t need him but Harry still does. And really, he broke out not because of Harry but because of Peter. If he broke out for Harry he would have done it years ago, not when Harry was a teenager, right?

I’m sure Remus sort of mediates a little sit down between Keira and Sirius because as members of the House of Black he knows very well they can be dramatic =p And he’ll get them to sit down and talk and be real and resolve this nonsense because they’re family and they love each other. And honestly they are so similar - SO similar - that Remus can get frustrated and be like ‘you two are acting exactly alike - like stubborn petty arses’ essentially to which they would both definitely respond about how they have nice arses =p

No worries about that, Sirius and Keira quickly bond, they are similar, and have a close relationship. But this is about Harry and Keira. And their relationship goes from bitterness to sort of a mentor to raging resentment to - omg, are we...family? Like...technically...sort of... And then this raging resentment turns into more like sibling rivalry/teasing... Like Keira is much harsher with her comments and ‘teasing’ towards Harry than any of the Weasley’s who she also views as family, as does Harry, but also forms this protective ‘I can mess with him and be mean to him but you can’t!’ She can say mean things, even beat up on him a little bit, but if anyone else tries it she’ll end them. He’s her punching bag =p

She likes Harry, and they bond through their life experiences. She just has some resentment to work through. But then they actually form a sort of sibling-like bond. Where she then teases Harry and Ron mercilessly although still nicer to Ron and they may try to stand up for themselves but honestly they’re both pretty afraid of her and they know she loves them and will do anything to protect them. She just takes a long time to warm up to Harry. But they get there eventually.

The Trio and their shenanigans - They should hang out with people from other houses not just a bunch of Gryffindors. Why are they being so cliquey and House-ist? =p

Part of her is also a little proud of their shenanigans but then part of her is like “oh a troll? Cute. Life size moving chess pieces? Psh, cursed ice knight. Spiders?! Still?! At first terrifying but now seriously annoying - he’s still causing drama?! Honestly, call an exterminator. A BASILISK?! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME I WANT A BASILISK! I get a dragon that - okay, the dragon is super cool too, don’t get me wrong BUT A BASILISK! UGH SO JEALOUS! Oh you had a lesson on Boggarts? Yeah I had to deal with a whole army of them as part of a curse... Also had someone trying to kill me so... Yep, DADA Professor. Well she tried to use one of my friends so... Oh they just tried to kill you themselves? Didn’t use your friend so you couldn’t trust them and then kill one of your friends? Yeah, Cedric is incredibly sad and unjust but he wasn’t your best friend!” So a little... unimpressed...

“Yeah, Rita is a real piece of....work...”

“Dolores Umbridge?! Oh wow... I’m...I’m so sorry...that’s awful. That’s worse than anything I had to face.”

18. Did MC ever return to Hogwarts for some reason?

Prior to the 1994 World Cup game I like to think they honored the previous winning team in a little pre-game ceremony so Keira was there for that obviously (although not technically at Hogwarts) and then attended the dragon challenge of the TriWizard Tournament because Charlie was clearly going to be a part of that and she does want to see him as much as possible with them working in different countries plus Bill was going as well and she can’t really work without her partner - they’re a package deal!

Did she make an appearance as an OG member of Weird Sisters for at least one song at the Yule Ball also that year? Perhaps. And she looked awesome =p

Oh! And she definitely visited like the first day of Remus’ new job as DADA Professor - she was so proud! And maybe also to make sure he was getting Wolfsbane and all of that was good and taken care of. And then when he gets fired OH does she flip some tables and desks - Storms into Dumbeldore’s office, flip that desk, storm down to Snape’s Potions classroom, flip some of those tables and goes tf off! She is so pissed!

And then she’s obviously there for the Department of Ministry battle where she saves Sirius because nope, sorry, cannot have Sirius die like that. I have a whole post ranting about this =p And then the Battle of Hogwarts because again she’s not letting Remus and Tonks and Fred die. CAN’T DO IT I’M SORRY CANNOT! She came to fight and she came to win.

*(I swear I wrote out a whole post about how I cannot acknowledge Sirius’ death or Tonks and Remus because of how unfair it is to Remus in particular whose life was so hard and how he deserves to be happy but I cannot find it! I looked and looked and I’ll keep looking but I’m sorry!)

19. Did MC attend Fred and George’s Grand Opening of Weasley’s Wizards Wheeze? What was their reaction to the twin’s epic exit of Hogwarts?

Keira has never been more proud of anyone before ever. That exit was... the most beautiful thing... awe inspiring, amazing, incredible... Literally brought a tear to her eye. SO PROUD! Slow clap proud =p

Of course she made sure to be there at their opening, she’s very supportive of them and wants to make sure they know that! She probably made Charlie and Bill go to - not that their whole family probably weren’t already going and supportive but Keira was just making sure they showed their support. She didn’t care about what work they had - the baby dragon will hatch without you just fine! Let’s go! Allons-y! You telling me Tonks and Tulip weren’t also there?! They probably could keep that place afloat alone by themselves even though they’re not in school anymore - maybe just for the nostalgia. I’m sure a few other members of the Cursed Vaults Gang came to the opening to show their support as well, even if Keira made them =p

Sorry this took so long to answer! Thanks for being patient! 💜

#ask game #thank you for asking #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #my mc #adelyn keira black #katherinewilliams221b

7 notes · View notes

allyvampirelass29 · 4 years

Text

The Frost to Her Fire

A NOS4A2 Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

"Charles....."

Charlie Manx breathed in deeply, unbuttoning his long, royal blue chauffeur's coat, as his lovely wife kissed behind his ear, fixing his coif, and her fingers were soft, the womanly touch he'd been so cruelly denied for over fifty years, and he reveled in it, as she reached her arms around him, helping him off with his coat, already untying his blood red cravat. Those hands. So sweet, smooth as cream, and tonight oddly expressive. She was definitely up to something.

"Yes, My Sweet?" He simpered coolly, an eyebrow raised, so affected, as she rubbed his chest. He delicately grazed one of his long gloved fingers, up and down her pale cheek, and she sighed happily, which was a far more pleasant sound than the hopeless sobs that usually filled their evenings. Oh these hands, the greatest weapon against him. And she knew how to use them too. "Pray tell, what's got you in such cheerful spirits this fine evening, Mrs. Manx?"

Lips on his cheek, as she stroked the back of his coifed raven hair, and he murmured softly. What mischief was his little minx playing at? Why hadn't she been this affectionate on their wedding night? They could have been tangled up together, gasping blissfully in the throes of passion, consummating their love in the canopied bed beside the fireplace, the picture of newlywed happiness. But no, instead, he was forced to leave the newest Mrs. Manx crying by the window, for it seemed she was not at all pleased with his little magic trick, borrowing her hands, taking up her pen, to show Vic McQueen just who was the most POWERFUL Strong Creative of them all. Sweet, confused girl. You musn't be so ungrateful. You should be thanking me...….. for saving you. Saving our home.

"Of course, Charlie, it is your most dashing and enigmatic self that has made my spirits altogether bright," she whispered and he smiled, taking her hand in his gloved one, bringing it to his lips, feeling relaxed, rather liking the way she had said that. Why, Mrs. Manx, have you finally acquiesced to your fate?

"You flatter me, My Dear...… Your words like music, for a man that has languished too long in silence. I would, naturally, don any garb that would make you smile, and light up so." He grabbed her forearm, aching to feel her body close to his, and gingerly brought his fluttering dove to settle upon his lap, her legs bare and dangling over the arm of the chair, and he watched them, taking notice for the first time of her nightgown.

"Aaaaaaah, you do favour me with a treat tonight, Sweet Wife, wearing the very gown you wore when I absconded with you, kissing you for the first time in the falling snow." He grinned at her, remembering how it felt, dancing with her, the innocence of their first kiss, moving with her, and he admired how it hung snugly against her curves, still rustling about her legs. He was already tugging teasingly on the laces that tied at the neckline, his long fingernails, following the lacing down her bodice, feeling it through his gloves, and her own fingers curled around his.

"Yes, My Darling Charles, I crave always to dote upon and favour you...… I want to please you, My Sweet Sir, be your every imagining of beauty...…."

Charlie turned his nose into her soft cheek, breathing in, nostrils slightly flared with his rising passion, still fingering her bodice, made dizzier by her every word.

"Perhaps....... It is not only what you don, Fairest Husband, but what you might take off, that may delight me so........."

Charlie's black eyes fluttered open, struck speechless as he watched her cheeks redden, her full lip tremble, and he lowered his own lips to kiss her neck, seized by something he was powerless to stop, teasing the delicate skin, tasting it, trapping her hand, squeezing it tight, while the other caressed her cheek, feeling the heat between them, as she melted blissfully in his grasp. My, My, Mrs. Manx, Christmas Morning has come early, now hasn't it? Ooooh is tonight the night you finally give yourself to me in body and soul? Are we to at last become one as man and wife?

"Say the word, Mrs. Manx, and I shall gladly aid you in such unwrapping," He whispered breathily into her ear, already undoing his crimson waistcoat, with a mischievous smirk.

Ally giggled, the bubbly sound an elixir, making all a haze, as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. He shrugged off his gentleman's vest with swift haste, wearing now, only his loose white shirt and black trousers. His fervor quieted though, when he felt her tugging at his wrist, wanting his black leather gloves off of him. Oh you, naughty girl.

"Charlie, please?"

Charlie pouted, his nose slightly wrinkling, having had the full intention of making love to her with them on. "My Darling, come now, we talked of this..... My gloves are very rarely removed, I am quite fond of them, you see...…"

Ally pouted too, which was the most endearing thing, softening his heart at once, and he watched, mystified, as she brought his wrist to her lips, kissing generously, lovingly just beneath his glove, his pulse tremulous.

"Oh Charles, you have the most..... sinfully soft hands, must you keep them covered, and deny your wife their luxurious touch? Would you neglect me so ill? Your fingernails, Charles...…." Charlie felt the chills dance down his spine, as she grazed one of his sharp nails against her bottom lip, her voice an ecstasy irresistible, breathless with subtle seduction. He'd never heard her talk like this, and it tempted him to the point of madness, ready to give her anything, needing to take her, to truly have her, and let her have him in a way even Jo was never allowed.

"I need them, your beautiful, long fingernails, against my bare skin, I have dreamt of nothing else...…"

Charlie grinned wickedly with a dark flirtation, imagining his dangerously long nails brushing against her soft, sensitive skin, torturously slow, lingering in the most intimate places, whisking against the curves that demanded his gaze even now. He locked hard onto her glowing green eyes, biting the tip of his glove, yanking it off with his teeth, his stare, lethal.

He watched the breath escape her chest, the ties on her laced bodice shuddered, still beckoning his wayward will, and she blushed all the more, looking dazed, as he ripped off his other glove, tossing them both to the floor, leaning in closer. Very well, Wife, as you wish, the gloves have come off........

"As you know, Allyssa Manx," He rasped, devilish, his desire untamed, his entire senses heightened, as he carefully placed his hands on either side of her face, resting all ten sharp vampire nails against her flushed cheeks, cradling her head in his claws. "I am in the sacred trade of making dreams come true......."

He kissed her hard, holding her face with the heels of his palms now, long fingers bent, careful not to scratch his porcelain doll, and she took his lips with the same impassioned ache, the same forbidden hunger, clutching the back of his head, mussing his shiny coif, one hand flush against his chest, pressing hard against the thin material of his shirt. While she was so engaged, Charles smirked into the kiss, the fingernails of his one hand moving down her body, at last pulling those laces loose, her neckline opening unto the loveliest snow white swell, and a rather pleasing feminine indent.

He moved to brush his finger across the pale crest, but she broke the kiss far too soon, before he could continue, and breathing heavily, she rested her forehead against his. He chuckled, admiring the effect his lips could coax from her body, making her blood run hot, exciting her in ways her docile mind had never dared to imagine, and felt her tremulous exhale as he brushed his nose against hers.

"Ohhhhhh My Ally...…... Do not take pause, and deny me the Elysium of your lips, I shall not survive it."

"Charles, I-I can't breathe...…. We are fire and frost, burning and melting together as was destined by the fates! You are....... Magnificent."

"Charles kissed her again, ravenously, forcing her head back with the fire of his passion, his fingernails clutching the back of her head, getting lost in a cascade of curls, closing into a fist of them, his other hand perched just above her chest.

Ally's whole body trembled as she kissed Charlie back, his lips igniting the fire deep within her very soul, held so happily captive in his arms. The way he touched her, so reckless, so possessive, no longer careful, the danger, the thrill, the way he took control, setting ablaze the polite affections most couples were fated to, favoring to stir her up something fierce, it was exquisite. She was overwhelmed with the wanting of him, the desperation for his hands on her skin, his lips taking hers without caution..... He was the fire and the frost, in which she would happily perish twice over.

Charlie's hand slid through her hair, and he touched her face, stunned by how feverish she was, his brow furrowing in worry. Did I get you a little too worked up, Darling? Don't fret. Once you've been undressed, properly, you'll feel much cooler. Of course, that's a delicious lie, I'm only going to get you hotter. You're the fire, yes, and you'll burn for me.

Ally broke the kiss, touching her own forehead, feeling faint, trying to remember to breathe. "Forgive me, I-I must be a little nervous." She was nervous, because he was perfect, her striking Byron, her gorgeous husband, as angelic in appearance as he was treacherous in intention, and she wanted their first time to be transcendent, incite his greatest pleasures, even if she still felt she did not deserve to be one with so flawless an immortal form.

Charles smiled at her very charmingly, absolutely adoring her bashfulness, her untouched virtue and she kissed the back of his hand, holding it to her lips.

"Of course, my beautiful bride, I do understand......." He cooed, whisking all of her silky curls over one shoulder, before bringing his lips to her fevered forehead. "Sweet, innocent Virgin Queen...…. Forgive me my folly, your foolish husband must learn patience, with so delicate a beauty. I only want you so madly, control is most elusive, this eve, just looking at so comely a countenance."

They both had trembled at the word virgin, and she stared at him in that way that he loved, her eyes gleaming, like he was her miracle. He took her up in his arms, while she hugged his neck, and laid her delicately in the canopy bed, grazing his hands through the curls splayed across his pillow as she looked up at him with such longing. "Wait here, My Love, I'll return with some refreshment, to cool you, and calm your nerves. You make me so frightfully happy, Dear Girl." He turned to leave, and then stopped, leaning down to kiss her again, feeling her happily kiss him back, and before he pulled away, he whispered something.

"I love you, Ally Manx...….. More than Christmas."

It took everything in him to take his leave of her, and he watched the tender emotion overwhelm her soul, gentle eyes glistening, the past horrors forgotten, as she pulled him close one more time, hugging him, nestling her wet cheek against his, and he knew these were the joyous tears he'd been waiting for.

"I love you too, Charlie Manx. More than Christmas."

Once he'd finally torn himself away, fighting his own tears, Ally lay very still, out of breath, dizzy and perfectly blissful, still tasting him on her lips, imagining the pleasing lines of his handsome chest through his threadbare shirt.

"Oh my God. You really say that to him?"

Ally covered her face, startled, hearing Vic's voice through the window, feeling conflicted, having very nearly forgotten she was there, knowing what had to be done, but now she wasn't sure if she could do it.

"Vic..... I can't! I just can't! Not now...…"

"Don't fall for it, Ally. Don't give into his manipulation, his seductive, romantic whatever!!! You know the truth now, remember? He can play nice all he wants, but he's still a cold as ice, soulless, MONSTER!!! Yeah, sure, he knows all the right things to say, but it doesn't change who he is. You did good, actually, scary good, but you can't quit on me now!"

"I love him, Vic!!! I know what he is, but I don't care!!!! I still love him with terrifying depths!!!! How now can I betray him like this!? I won't do it! This- This was a mistake! He's my husband!!!"

"You betray HIM!? Ally, HE betrayed YOU when he pried your power loose from your fingers, used you, and imprisoned you in his merry apocalypse land forever. He's never going to let you out, if he thinks you love your cage, alright? Think of the kids!"

Ally shuddered, sickening flashes of sweet children transformed into vampires with razor sharp fangs, seemingly breaking the spell Charles Manx had performed so well. Biting her lip, she rushed to the door, locking it, and with trembling fingers, picked up Charlie's leather gloves from the floor, the gloves he'd used to violate her power, take control of her knife, the gloves that he was so reluctant to remove, because he knew...… They held the secret to playing with fire. These gloves were her strings, and they were going to break.

She hurried to the window, and opened it, a flurry of snow blowing in, catching her hair, as she looked down to see Vic on her cherry red motorcycle, and with a deep breath, tossed the gloves out the window.

"I can't believe you got him to take these things off," Vic yelled triumphant, catching them, closing her fist around them, before stuffing them into her jacket pocket, motioning Harlequin Novel to climb down. Ally climbed up to the ledge, and felt the cold on her face as she stood there, the wind ripping through her gown, and she sensed it, the coming snowstorm that Charlie Manx would drive at her in full force for her dire deception. Vic could practically feel her hesitation, and motioned her down again, even more emphatically

"Ally, come on! You got this! You don't really want to stay here, and have sex with Manx, do ya?"

"Yes!" Ally called down to her, still starry-eyed and swoony. "I do! Very much so!"

"GOD, you are one weird chick!"

Ally smiled down at Vic, bracing herself, as she jumped out of the second story window into the heaping pile of fresh snow, shaking the flakes from her hair, climbing onto the back of Vic's motorcycle.

"We are TWO weird chicks that are going to save the world!!!" She answered cleverly, and Vic smiled.

"Damn straight, Jane Austen."

#nos4a2 #charlie manx x oc #vic mcqueen #christmasland #charlie manx #paranormal romance #paradise for the lost

27 notes · View notes

mypassionfortrash · 4 years

Text

Nothing Serious (Parts 7 & 8)

SUMMARY: You and Roger decide to make a go of it and behave ‘like a normal couple’ in the wake of The Sun running a damning exposé on Roger’s love life and his divorce – and your disastrous attempts at dating other people. He also drunkenly makes you an offer you find hard to refuse.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

TAGS: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

NOTES: Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on this; I honestly didn’t think anyone still gave a shit about my fics anymore, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Again, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

[Part 7]

The morning after that awful date, you and Roger decided to – in his words – “Make a go of it.”

This meant him sleeping over at your place every other night. According to Roger, this was to avoid rousing suspicions. But actually, Roger just loved being around you.

Your habit of neglecting your dishwashing duties didn’t bother him. And you couldn’t care less that he was more of a morning person than you; you enjoyed lying in bed, listening to him singing Taylor Swift in the shower. His day didn’t start until his bandmates kicked into action, so with time to spare, he always made you breakfast in bed, and packed you lunches to take to work. He insisted. When he learned that you always skipped breakfast, he was dismayed. This became a habit for him, looking after you. Mornings, evenings, everything, ran like clockwork.

Even sex.

That promise Roger made in Ibiza about teaching you a thing or two? That was long gone. Tamed and domesticated, he loved missionary and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he pumped you full of baby batter on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays – with double helpings on Saturdays. And neither of you minded.

What your sex life lacked in kink and depravity, it made up for in a kind of intimacy that you doubted you’d find elsewhere.

So that was love. Finally.

A fortnight on from the Night of Terrible Dates, a sunny Sunday morning, Roger slid out of bed. He fumbled in the dull orange glow, tugging on a pair of jeans and a tattered t-shirt; he didn’t bother to comb his hair. It didn’t matter. He was only going to the end of the street to bring you your Sunday coffee. A proper one.

Roger gently kissed your forehead and left you in a sweaty heap in bed.

You shot him a dumb, delirious smile, watching him leave and trying to psyche yourself up for the notion of getting out of bed. You only knew one move in the bedroom, but you sure knew how to tucker yourself out, you huffed to yourself.

You got up, slipping on one of Roger’s t-shirts. Then you padded through to the bathroom. Your makeup from the night before had burrowed into caked lines around your eyes, and your foundation flaked around your nose. Drawing your cheeks up into a measly grin, you assessed the damage. And wondered how Roger put up with seeing your ugly mug in the morning.

You had no idea how he did it.

You got a bit carried away, though, feeling the last of Roger’s seed dribble down your thigh. Staring down at the offending swimmers in disgust, you fumbled for some loo roll to dispose of them once and for all.

Above the flush of the toilet, you heard the door slam. Roger was home. And it made your heart race. Kind of like the way dogs get excited to see their owners when they come home from work. You laughed at the thought.

“Hey, Roger… Am I a pug or a lab?” you asked, watching as he slipped off his shoes.

“Huh?” he asked, turning around. He looked gormless, peering at you through his glasses with his mouth hanging open.

“I was thinking,” you began, throwing your arms around him, almost sending your coffees flying, “About how excited I get when you come home. I’m like a dog that gets all hyper over seeing its owner.”

“Right?” he asked, wondering where this was going.

“So I was wondering whether I’m a pug or a labrador. What do you think?”

He narrowed his eyes, a goofy smirk spreading over his lips. “I think you’re more of a terrier. Small and yappy.”

“Well, in that case,” you pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re a chihuahua.”

“Very funny. We all know I’m more cat than dog,” he quipped. When he safely managed to remove you from him, avoiding any spills, he made his way into the living room and slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table.

The bold, red stripe at the top made your heartbeat accelerate. “What are you buying that muck for?”

“Brian texted me this morning. Dom’s told them everything. That Charlotte girl’s sold her story. And they have eyewitness accounts of how I forced a crying girl out of the toilets in a French restaurant two weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” you sighed, folding your arms and trying not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“All of it,” you said. “This is just our luck, isn’t it? The girls at work are constantly pestering me for information about you and I don’t even know what to tell them anymore. They know more about us than we know about each other.”

“How are we supposed to be a normal couple if this is going to keep happening?”

And then a lightbulb dinged above your head. Your eyes lit up as you threw yourself on to Roger’s lap. “Why don’t we do that?”

“Do what?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Be a normal couple. Keep our noses clean. Do everything normal couples do.”

Roger tucked strands of your hair behind your ear as a smile broke across his face again. “How do you propose we do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. See our friends. And if they talk, they talk. We need to be careful about what we say, though. But it might go well for us.”

Roger nodded, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “This could definitely work. But if we fuck up, they’ll never stop hounding us.”

“It’ll die down soon, though, won’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. Remember, I’m going to Montreux at the end of the month. So, you’re on your own if anything goes wrong.”

Feeling defeated, you sighed. That had slipped your mind. He’d be gone for two months. Maybe even more if arguments got the better of his bandmates.

Roger stroked the base of your back. “I’m only thinking about you,” he said, his baby blue eyes turning more and more watery. “I want you to be safe and for no one to bother you. And if anything else got out, how are you going to take it?”

You cupped Roger’s face in your hands. Your noses touched and your bodies pressed together.

“We’re going to need to get your friends on board,” he sighed, twirling strands of your hair around his fingers.

“Do you want to meet them?” you asked.

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

A week later, you and Roger sat in his Panamera outside your building. It looked so out of place parked on a rammed residential street; it belonged outside a mansion or an opulent Notting Hill townhouse. You were dressed to the nines, poised for Roger to meet all of your coupled off and drowse-inducingly dull friends. He vibrated with nervous energy, but that much you could deduce from how he talked.

“Now tell me again what I’m not supposed to say to Cassie?”

“Don’t crack dead baby jokes in front of her. I, personally love them. But her and whatshisface have been trying for over a year and they’re looking at IVF now, which is going to wipe them out. She’s had like three miscarriages.”

“Got it,” Roger nodded, chewing his lip. “So is there anyone going tonight that’s actually… you know… fun? Do they have a sense of humour?”

You shook your head, loathe to admit that these people were your friends. You collected them back when they were much more adventurous; in high school when the only things that bothered you were which Charlie body spray your mum was going to buy you that week, or how you were going to score a packet of cigs on your lunch break. Now they were all paired off with kids. Some of them dropped out of uni when they met ‘the one.’ Some of them didn’t even make it to uni. “None of them are particularly funny. Their humour got dumped out of their uteruses.”

“Right,” Roger said, starting the car. “This is going to be a long night.”

“I’ve got a bottle of fizz in the fridge for when we get back. Thought we’d need it.”

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“What? The mild drink problem or the disdain for boring people?”

“Mild? I’ve seen how much you swallow on a school night.”

“Impress my pals and I’ll swallow more than a bottle of prosecco.”

“You mean, you’re actually going to shove the whole bottle down your neck? Now that, I need to see.”

You and Roger sat side by side as your friends grilled you. It felt like you were on trial. They asked him everything. Why he got divorced. Why he was on Tinder. Why you. And then. The question of your thirteen year age gap came up.

It was Grace. The gossip. She leaned over the table, as far as she could, with eyes bulging out of her head. Her stubby fingers gripped her glass of gin and tonic.

“So, he’s so much older than you,” she guffawed, darting her eyes between you and Roger. “Bet it turns him on.”

Roger’s fingers found their way to your lap, and tangled with your own, locking your hands together. “Actually,” Roger began, glancing at you, “I think she’s lovely. She could be twenty-four or eighty-four and I’d still adore her.” When he finished that sentence, he looked so proud of himself – flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. He gave your hand another squeeze.

But that wasn’t the answer Grace the Gossip was looking for. “Oh, come on! I’ve heard you like shagging younger women.” Then she turned her attention to you, jabbing her finger at you. “And don’t pretend you don’t like him because he’s famous and rich.”

“What are you?” Roger asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of those rats working for the red-tops. Are you?”

“Come on, that’s enough. Both of you,” Jade said, trying to mediate.

“No, I want to hear Grace’s answer, actually,” you piped up. You and Roger exchanged smug looks, while Grace rolled her eyes.

She sighed. “I’m curious. There are plenty of men out there your age. And there are plenty of girls out there Roger’s age. Thirteen years is a lot.”

You sensed Roger slumping in his chair beside you; you felt his disappointment.

“I don’t fucking know, Geraldine–”

“It’s Grace, actually.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re both bloody adults and as far as I’m concerned, your mate’s more mature than most people my age.” He looked at you, visibly annoyed. “Are we done here, can we go home?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you huffed, looking around at your friends. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, by the way. All of you. You’re all coupled up and you constantly tell me that I should be too. And now I am–”

“It’s not that,” Lily – the mouthpiece – interrupted. “It’s him.”

“And that you met him on Tinder,” Jade added.

You regained your composure, painfully aware that your friends were beyond seeing sense. “And now that I am,” you seethed, “You don’t have it in you to be happy for me.”

“We are,” Cassie, the doormat, cooed.

“Is it because I’m not stupid enough to get myself pregnant within two weeks of meeting someone new?” you asked, glaring at Grace. “Or that I haven’t had to give up my career for a man?” you continued, shooting daggers at Cassie. “Or perhaps it’s because my boyfriend isn’t a fucking deadbeat?” you concluded, directing that remark at Lily and Jade.

Your friends looked at each other in stunned silence.

Lily slapped her hand on her husband’s. “He’s not a deadbeat. I mean he’s quiet, but at least I know when he gets bored, he’s sensible enough not to trade me in for a younger model.”

Cassie was next to refute your claim: “I quit my job by choice. He got a better job and he supports us both. I’m happy.”

James, her husband, nodded.

“Well, if you’d like to keep lying to yourselves, then I’m sorry but I’m out of here. I don’t have the patience for this,” you announced, throwing down you and Roger’s share of the bill, plus a tip. You got to your feet, stretching out your hand which Roger gladly took. “We’re going home.” You cast an eye over the stunned table. “And if any of you want to apologise, remember what you did wrong before you go bashing us. We’re happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you were any kind of friends, you’d support that.”

Your friends said nothing as you and Roger stormed out of the restaurant at breakneck speed. But when the pair of you got to the front door, Roger mumbled something, staring straight on ahead.

You didn’t quite catch it, so you leaned in closer to him. “What was that, Roggie?”

“You were amazing,” he repeated with a faint simper on his lips.

You gave his hand another fleeting squeeze, feeling a swell of pride in your chest. “So were you.”

When you were safely inside Roger’s car, you both sank with relief. “That was a nightmare, wasn’t it?” Roger said.

“Yup.”

“Suppose that’ll end up in The Sun?”

You turned in your seat to face him, wearing a serious expression. “Hope not.”

“You never know who to trust,” he warned, speeding off in the direction of home.

He didn’t say much for the rest of the journey back. Choosing to drown out the thought of your horrible evening, he turned his playlist up. The one he made for you. And belted no less than five love songs at you on the journey.

It earned a few cautious laughs from you, too. But the seed of doubt grew in your mind. What if you couldn’t trust your friends anymore?

The pensive silence stuck around like a bad smell well until you arrived home. You stood in the hall with your back to Roger as he shuffled your coat off your body and hung it up.

Then his arms snaked around your waist, his chin propped on your shoulder. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Kitten. Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

You exhaled, turning towards him. Your eyes had gone glassy and your lips curved into a frown. “It’s been a bad night, hasn’t it?” you lamented.

“It’s not gone that badly,” Roger reasoned.

“Yeah, but what if they hate me now?”

“They can’t possibly hate you.”

“Why?”

“Because… it’s…” Roger paused, shrugging, “Illegal?”

You rolled your eyes and stormed into the kitchen in search of something to take the edge off. “That’s the best you can do?” you asked opening the fridge and plucking out the bottle.

“You know what I mean,” Roger said, trailing behind you. “You’re lovely. And an amazing friend. They should be lucky to have you. And if they can’t see that, then I’m sorry, but they were never your friends to begin with.”

You grimaced, slapping the bottle down on the countertop. A deluge of sadness dropped on to your body like a lead balloon. “I’m twenty-four and I’m back at square one when it comes to friends,” you squeaked, leaning against the counter. The tears weren’t far off; you could feel the warmth burning your eyes. Not wanting Roger to see you in this state again, you bowed your head. Of course, it made the tears fall faster. “This is fucking awful.”

“Hey,” he said in a low, warm voice. “You’ve still got years to meet new people. And makeup with everyone else. You’ve got me. And Freddie was saying the other day, he’d love to meet you. He knows a few characters. You’re only twenty-four. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did.

Roger wrapped his arms around you and leaned his head against your shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure they’ll come round.”

Your whole body shook with grief as Roger held you close. “It feels like it is.”

The following day, you woke up to the sound of the intercom ripping through your empty flat. Your eyes shot open as you turned over, clawing at the empty space in your bed in search of Roger.

You heaved yourself on to your feet and padded through to the door, picking up the receiver. “Hello?” you spat.

“Hello, my love,” a sort of familiar voice beamed. “Is that Roger’s lovely girlfriend there?”

Your stomach sank. Surely Roger wasn’t behind all of this?

“Well, is it?” he pressed.

“Uh, yeah. Come on up.” You smacked the receiver down and sped through to your bedroom, slipping into more modest attire. With any luck, you thought, you might be able to brush your teeth before your guest arrived. But you were wrong.

Three loud knocks boomed into your home as you pulled on one of Roger’s shirts, earning a pained sigh from you.

And then another three while you hurried back to answer the door.

“Alright, alright! Hold your bloody horses,” you hissed. When you flung open the door, you found Freddie standing in the hall. He looked inconspicuous in his leather jacket and ripped up jeans, aside from the bottle of Moët he clutched. “Christ, it’s ten in the morning,” you remarked.

“I know,” he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “Aren’t you going to let me in, dear? This bottle’s getting warm and we can’t have that!”

You shuffled aside, allowing Freddie to barge in. “Make yourself at home,” you hummed, throwing your arm out in the general direction of your humble abode.

Freddie sashayed through to the kitchen like a wrecking ball through your lazy Sunday morning. “Roger says you were very down last night.”

“Oh, did he now,” you shrugged, following him. “Suppose he sent you here to make me feel better, then?”

He threw himself into a chair at your kitchen table. “No,” he began, popping open the champagne. “I’m here to talk to you about planning a party, my dear.” He held up the bottle, silently asking for glasses.

“A party?” You threw open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice; you couldn’t stomach straight champagne this early in the morning. “What kind of party?”

“Oh, I love mimosas,” he smirked. “Get some glasses and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Already ahead of you.” You opened the cupboard where all the glasses went to die and pulled out two mismatched flutes. You slid them across the table towards Freddie – along with the orange juice – and he got pouring the drinks.

“Well,” he began, placing your glass in front of you. “I’m sure you know, it’s Roger’s birthday next week?” It was more of a question than an explanation.

You nodded in response.

“Well, I thought it might be a nice idea, as one of Roger’s best friends, and you, as Roger’s very beautiful lady friend, to organise a party for him. It’d be nice to celebrate, and it’d be lovely for you to meet everyone. How does that sound?” Freddie asked with a manic look in his eyes.

You knocked back your mimosa in one swift gulp and sighed. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Freddie excitedly clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I was hoping we could have it at my house. I have a few ideas for the cake, too! And invites! Yes, I’ve drawn these up,” Freddie rambled, scooting over towards you and whipping out his phone to show you some crisp, white invites with gold borders and greenery around the edges. “What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful!” you smiled. “I’m not sure they’re very Roger, though.”

A mischievous smirk emerged from beneath his moustache. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s make it filthy.”

[Part 8]

“I don’t see why we can’t stay at home and celebrate with a take away,” Roger grumbled, staring out of the window of the car.

“I thought it’d be nice to get a bite to eat somewhere nice,” you explained, brushing your fingers against his thigh.

The sweltering July evening seemed never-ending and the sun still hung high, even though the clock approached nine.

It was weather for light linen shirts and cropped jeans and sunglasses, hair that smelled like the beach and tanned skin on display. It suited Roger down to a tee, you thought, as your eyes wandered. He scratched at the undersides of his arms, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Then, slipping his hand beneath his shirt collar, he sighed as he rubbed his aching shoulders. “But I love your cooking.”

“Would it stun you to know that I’m sick of cooking?”

Roger’s lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “But it’s my birthday. It’s as good as steak and blowjob day.”

“Well, you can eat some nice steak tonight and I’ll give you a blowie later. How does that sound?”

“Oh, alright!”

The pair of you went back to absentmindedly staring out the windows, every now and again, reaching across the seat to touch hands. The nerves in your stomach brewed, wondering what he would make of the party you and Freddie planned.

“Hang on?” Roger said, edging forward in his seat as he peered out the window. “Where are we going again?”

“For dinner, Roggie,” you stated. “Why?”

“Why are we going to Freddie’s?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Fred recently.”

“And what of it?”

“You’ve been planning something, haven’t you?” Roger asked, his voice streaked with giddiness.

“No!”

“Why are we pulling up in front of Fred’s house then?”

“We’re going to pop in and see him so he can wish you a happy birthday.”

“Oh great!” Roger tutted mockingly. “That’s half the night wasted then. No blowjobs for me.”

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded. You reached into your bag and handed the fare to the driver, then you both stepped out on to the street outside Garden Lodge.

“This better be quick! I’m fucking starving,” Roger warned, rubbing his tummy.

You knew how grumpy he could be when he was in the throes of hunger and you hoped the catering and free booze would be enough to sustain him through the night. But there was one thing you were certain of: Roger loved a good party. “Come on,” you urged, grabbing his hand and tugging him in the direction of the large wooden door that insulated the mansion within. You jabbed your finger against the intercom. “Fred? We’re here!”

Fred’s laughter came over the intercom, and then he finally spoke. “Come in, darlings!”

You and Roger exchanged puzzled looks at how jovial he sounded, but then you shrugged and pushed open the gate.

“SURPRISE!”

The garden was packed with anyone who was anyone in the music business. Producers, musicians, even actors and actresses, and models, too. They had all assembled to celebrate Roger’s birthday. You were certain Roger hadn’t even met half of the guests – most of them looked like Freddie’s circle.

Roger laughed nervously as he took in the sight of the garden, decked out with strings of twinkling gold lights and picnic benches. And then, his face settled into a look of wonder, eyeing the waitresses in knee high boots and leather bikinis, doling out canapés. One tall and stony looking blonde thrust flutes of champagne into your hands, and a friendlier flame-haired floozy moseyed up to you and Roger, popping tiny cherry pies into your mouths. “Good?” she purred, relishing how flustered Roger became.

Roger mumbled enthusiastically, catching crumbs that tumbled from his mouth. He had turned a delightful shade of pink as he took in his surroundings. He shuffled up the garden path towards a pair of oversized inflatable legs, spread eagled. Between them, in lieu of the female anatomy, was the door to Freddie’s house. Roger marvelled at them, open mouthed.

From the crowd, ever the perfect hostess, Freddie emerged with a cake. You and him had spent days in bakeries all over London, sampling their wares. But you had finally decided on one. Two glorious mounds of chocolate cake, moulded into an ample bosom, complete with a set of erect, rosebud nipples. The number 38 blazed away beside it. The throng surrounding Roger erupted into a bout of ‘happy birthday.’

Roger looked at you, bewildered and wondering what part you played in this, but you nodded towards his cake.

Roger was always the life and soul of the party, and it didn’t take him long to bust a few moves that you feared might seriously injure him. After all, 38 was two years shy of forty. And that would be really old.

You admired him from one of the picnic benches, as you drained another glass of champagne. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves and you felt completely at home and relaxed on the sidelines. Until Freddie burst into view, dragging none other than Elton John with him.

“My dear, there’s someone I need you to meet!” he beamed, throwing a rather drunk Elton down opposite you. “This is Elton!”

Elton waved and nodded, giving you a quiet, “Hi.”

“Elton, this is Roger’s girlfriend, isn’t she a peach?”

“She’s lovely, yeah!”

“I’m going to leave you two to get acquainted,” Freddie cooed, wandering off to pester someone else.

Unsure of what to say to Elton, you searched your brain for something, anything, to make inroads into a conversation with him. “So,” you began, dragging out that vowel. “How do you know Fred?”

“Me and Fred go way back! All the way to the nineties, would you believe? Back when I was practically bald. You probably don’t remember that, though,” he slurred. “How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four,” you mumbled.

Elton’s eyes bulged. “I knew Roger liked them young, but you’re half his bloody age! I heard you met on Tinder, too? Bold move on Roger’s part!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about some of the experiences he’d had before he met me,” you laughed. “Must’ve been desperate. Hence why he set the bar this low.”

“Oh not at all,” Elton said, flapping his hands. “It’s nice to see him with a girl who doesn’t look like she’s in it for the money. God knows, that’s all Roger’s got going for him.”

You shook your head. “I don’t know about that.” You glanced over at Freddie and Roger, who were huddled in a corner of the garden, blathering away at each other like a pair of gossiping old biddies. You loved the way Roger laughed with his entire body when Freddie presumably told him a dirty joke and the way Freddie’s eyes bulged when he embellished his stories with theatrical action. “He’s kind and does everything he can to drag me out of my shell. And he doesn’t seem to mind that my friends hate him or that the world feels like we shouldn’t be together. He’s always so positive. I love that.”

“So you’re smitten, then?” Elton said, leaning in. “And you’re serious?”

Your cheeks burned as an awkward smile cracked over your features. “I think so,” you said, nodding with youthful enthusiasm.

“Well, you’re absolutely lovely,” Elton said, grabbing your hands and speaking to you with the wisdom of an old babushka. “I hope this works. Because you clearly make each other happy. And don’t let anyone or anything, take that away from you. Fred and I know what it’s like, having everyone out to get you.”

On the other side of the garden, Roger was busy gushing to Freddie about his party. He had already sunk a bottle of champagne all to himself, and, having loosened up, he was prepared to tell anyone who would listen how glad he was to be spending his thirty-eighth birthday, surrounded ‘by people he cared about.’

“This is so different from last year,” he smiled, looking out at the partygoers. “And it’s the first birthday in a while that I’ve actually been happy. Remember how Dom and I used argue at these things?” He turned to Freddie, looking bleary eyed. “I love her, Fred. I fucking love her.”

“I know you do,” Freddie said, linking his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “This was all her idea, you know? The legs and everything. I think she knows you better than I do!”

He shook his head, wearing a cute, dumb expression. “I think she gets me. And to think she thought she wouldn’t be enough for me.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm in a ‘fuck off’ kind of way. “Why ever would that beautiful thing think that?!”

“She was nervous because she’d never really seriously dated anyone before. And then I went and told her how many women I’d slept with. And she got cold feet.”

“Did you tell her how many men you’ve shagged too?”

“Fuck off,” Roger said bashfully. “I mean it, though. I could definitely see myself really making a go of it with her.”

“She loves you very much,” Freddie explained, bolstering his friend. “She told me you make her a nice breakfast every day before she goes to work and that you have her lunch packed for her. Sounds like you bloody well do everything for her. Spoilt little thing.”

“I just worry about her,” Roger admitted, crossing his arms. “Sometimes, when you look at someone, do you ever see that tiny flicker of sadness there in their eyes? And then you promise yourself, you’ll never allow it to really get a grip on them? Because I see that all the time. I want to look after her. I never ever felt that way about Dominique.”

Freddie glanced at his best friend. “You did all those years ago. I remember you used to make any excuse to see her. Hell, you even sprawled yourself across her desk in Richard’s office one Monday morning, a big fucking rose between your teeth.”

“But this is different.”

“How?”

“I thought I wanted sex and filth and something to take my mind off the whole bloody thing. All that excitement you get when you first meet someone and you fall for them. But I don’t. I don’t have that with her,” he slurred, gluing his eyes to you and only you.

“What do you have? A sore arse? I bet she’s good with a strap.”

“No.” Roger glared at Freddie. “I have this overwhelming need to protect her, like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Does she know that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you should tell her before you go to Montreux.”

Roger’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s soon, isn’t it? Why – has she told you anything?”

Freddie shrugged. “It’s not really my place to say.”

“But she did tell you something…”

“Yes and no.”

“What is it then?”

“I think she’s worried it might be a bit too soon for you to be apart.”

“And she told you that, did she?” he asked with a pout.

“Not in so many words. But yes.”

“Do you think I should invite her out?” he asked, turning his head to look at Freddie again. “To Montreux?”

Freddie’s eyes widened as soon as he heard Roger’s plan. “That’s a bloody wonderful idea! I’m planning on bringing my new man, Jim out with me. He could probably do with the company when I’m holed up in the studio with you.”

“You think so?” Roger asked, patting his hand on Freddie’s shoulder.

“I think you should go and ask her now!”

Roger stood up straight and puffed out his chest like a great, brave emperor penguin, ready to journey across a continent. “I think I will!”

“Go get her, tiger!” Freddie called, sending all eyes at the party on to Roger as he staggered up the garden.

You were still deep in conversation with Elton, but silence fell as Roger approached.

“Does he look drunk to you?” Elton asked.

“He looks fucking wasted.”

Roger wore that dreamy look in his eye that could make you do anything, even if he was three sheets to the wind. When he arrived at the table, he almost fell over as he leaned forward to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Hello, birthday boy!” you cooed. “I see you’re having a good night!”

“Elton, my man!” Roger exclaimed making finger guns at him. “I’m gonna need some alone time with my woman. Can I steal her away?” he slurred.

“Excuse me?” you blinked. “Your woman?”

Roger flung himself down beside you and put his arm around you. “Sorry. What I meant to say is, I’d like some alone time with this absolutely delectable creature, where I shall seek to woo her with my potent, sexual allure,” he elaborated, dragging his palm down his exposed torso.

You gave Roger a glare that told him he was done for, and, not wanting to attract further attention, took his hand. You led him up between the pair of giant inflatable legs, through the vagina, and into Freddie’s kitchen. Much to your annoyance, there was a crowd of kitchen dwellers dotted around the room, so you continued your journey, further into Freddie’s not-so-humble abode. “Come on,” you said, pulling Roger up the spiral staircase in the hall. “There’s bound to be a room up here for us.”

“Oh, we’re going upstairs,” he purred, giving his eyebrows a knowing wiggle. “I know what that means.”

You continued to lead him by the hand through the tastefully decorated hallway, until you reached what Freddie liked to call the ‘Pink Room.’ You and Roger entered and stood in silence in the middle of the room, gawking at each other.

Roger obviously found the situation hilarious as he searched for something to focus on to take his mind off the fit of giggles that simmered away under his dishevelled exterior. His shoulders bobbed every now and again when a small laugh escaped.

“What’s so funny, Roggie?”

“It’s nothing, sorry.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, gauging how drunk your boyfriend was. “It’s something.”

“No, I’m thinking about how we’re gonna shag in Fred’s house.”

“We’re not going to shag in Freddie’s house, Roggie. At least not until you’ve sobered up and told me what you wanted to tell me in the garden.”

Roger’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as soon as he remembered why he wanted to get you alone. Then he nodded. He shuffled his feet as he looked at the floor to pluck the words out of his champagne-addled brain. “Fred and I were talking,” he began.

“Uh huh?” you urged him on, crossing your arms.

“And we were talking…” He continued, his eyes rolling up in his head as he still wore that boyish, naughty expression.

“You were talking and…”

“Well, all the other guys are bringing their girlfriends, and Freddie’s got his new boyfriend and I was wondering, if…”

Unable to contain your annoyance for Roger’s penchant for trailing off mid sentence, you erupted: “For goodness sake, Roger, spit it out!”

Roger puffed out his cheeks at your sudden outburst and exhaled. “Do you want to come to Montreux with us?”

Roger’s proposal came as such a shock to you that you had to stumble around to find a place to sit. Eventually, you found a dusty pink chaise longue that overlooked the garden and flopped on top of it. “Jesus,” you muttered.

Roger dropped to his knees and shuffled over to you, pouting and silently attempting to convince you that this was a good idea for both of you.

“How long do you want me out there for?”

“However long you’d like. Montreux’s really beautiful. We could maybe even stay there?” Roger begged, clasping your hand in his. Shimmering gold flecks from the lights in the garden danced in his tired eyes. “I’d love it if you came with me.”

“It’s a big ask,” you sighed, leaning your forehead against his. “I’ve got work to think about. I can’t just quit. I don’t want to be like my friends.”

“I’ll look after you, though. And you’ve got all of us. We’re a family.”

“I don’t know, Roger,” you admitted. “I think I’m gonna need some time to think about this. I can’t get up and leave. It’s not that easy.”

Roger’s entire body deflated right in front of you, his disappointment palpable as he slouched. “Take as long as you need, Kitten,” he said. His tone became measured and calm now; the sparkle and optimism had disappeared. “Even if you’re able to come out for a day or two, it’d be better than nothing. I’m gonna miss looking after you when I’m out there.”

“I’ll let you know how I feel in the morning. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“I’m a bit drunk,” Roger spluttered. “But I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“You’ve had a good birthday?”

He nodded with enthusiasm. “Best birthday in years. And I’ve got you to thank for that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You make me so fucking happy.”

The pair of you scrambled to your feet, your arms enveloping his body. Your head rested against his chest, so close you could hear his heart racing and his lungs slowly sucking in air as you danced together in the window of the Pink Room, and gazed down at the party below. “I love you, Roggie,” you whispered, burying your nose against his shirt to inhale his scent.

“I love you too, Kitten.”

“How about we head home? Hm?” you asked looking up at him.

He swept the hair out of your face with a contented, heavy lidded smile. “That’s a fantastic idea,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll even bring you a nice breakfast in bed to thank you for this in the morning.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The following morning, you felt the bed dip beside you and the soft, warm sound of Roger’s voice. Bliss. Turning on to your back, you stretched letting all the tensed muscles in your body unfurl and your bones crack back into place with a groan. “Morning, Roggie,” you purred with your eyes still closed.

“Morning, Kitten,” he said.

You could see the smile behind his words inside your mind. And you could also smell bacon. Your eyes flicked open to find him wafting a bacon roll right under your nose.

“Knew that would wake you up in no time,” he grinned, pulling the duvet over both of your bodies. “I’ve made you some tea, too.”

You grabbed the cup from Roger’s hands and took a swig like it was the holy grail. Your mouth was so dry from all the alcohol the night before that you almost finished the cup in one big gulp. “Thank you,” you sighed, sitting the cup down on your nightstand. Then you went back to the most important meal of the day.

Roger took small bites of his own, in between stroking your hair and admiring you in the golden rays cracking through the blinds. “Did you sleep well, Kitten?” he asked.

You gave a contented groan. “Like a log – how about you?” you asked, curling yourself against his body. “Hungover?”

“No,” he mused, “I feel good.”

“You look tired.”

“I am a bit, but that’s nothing a little siesta can’t fix,” he sighed.

But there was something off. You could tell Roger was holding something back; his body was tense and he had a habit of moving his lips to start a sentence with no sound coming from them when he was too apprehensive about asking you something. Then you remembered his proposition from the night before.

“About last night–” you both began in unison.

“You first,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically coy.

“No, no… you asked the question.”

Roger sucked his lips together, and stayed silent for a moment. Then the lightbulb pinged above his head. “I know I asked you to come over to Montreux, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to go. You’ve got a life here. You can’t abandon that. I was a bit drunk and over excited.”

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I need to see how many holidays I can realistically take off work this summer.”

Roger nodded. “Ok. I’m not going to pester you about it, have a think. It might do you the world of good to go out there.”

You gave a haughty laugh, still feeling raw from the invasion of your privacy back in Ibiza. “What like it did when we spent that weekend at the villa?” you asked.

Roger’s features fell. “I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Montreux’s not like Ibiza at all. Fuck, no one even knows where Montreux is. No one pesters us there. Not even Freddie.” He sounded hurt. “Please think about it.”

And then your phone rang. Convenient timing, if only to prevent an argument. You fumbled around on your nightstand for your phone and looked at the screen. It was Jade. “What the fuck does she want?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who?” Roger asked, peering over your shoulder. Then he scowled in disgust. “Her?”

“Should I answer it?” you asked, glancing up at Roger.

“It’s up to you.”

You answered the call, putting Jade on speaker for Roger to hear. “What do you want?”

“Please don’t read The Sun today,” Jade said, sounding panicked.

Roger sat upright, looking puzzled.

“Why?” you asked, feeling a pit of dread growing larger and larger with every passing second. “What have they done now?”

“Just don’t read it, please.” She repeated her plea with more desperation. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? What for? What have you done?”

Roger tapped away on his own phone and then showed you the screen. On the homepage of The Sun’s website, there were a series of articles about you and Roger. One about Charlotte and Lewis. Blurry phone photos of Roger leading you out of La Rouvenaz after your date from hell. A photo of Roger’s ex wife, with the headline: “Dominique Taylor: My Side of the Story.” And another headline. “Pals Spill the Beans on Queen Drummer’s New Squeeze.”

By the time you had finished reading everything on the page, you could hear Jade whimpering on the other end of the line.

“You fucking bitch,” Roger hissed. “You snake. How much did they pay you?”

“Please,” Jade cried. “I’m so sorry. They got it out of me without me knowing I–”

“I want to know how much they paid you!”

“Ten grand.”

Too stunned to speak, Roger verbalised exactly what was on the tip of your tongue. “Ten grand? Is that how much your best mate’s worth?”

“If I could come over and explain, I could make things–”

Without saying a word, you hung up. Still in a state of shock, you took Roger’s phone and began at the very top of the page, scanning every single article for opinions on everything from how much you weighed to what you wore. All of your friends had something to say. Some of them even surrendered photos of you from your school days, back when the gang was much more close knit – before life got in the way of your friendships. You were too exhausted to shed tears. Too humiliated to want to set foot in the office again. You turned to Roger, whose eyes had clouded over as he seethed. “Montreux doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all,” you said.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I think you’re probably the only person that actually cares about me at this point.”

“I hope I’m worth it.”

Realising what was at stake, you spent the rest of your Sunday preparing yourself for Monday. You drafted your letter of resignation, organised boxes to empty the contents of your desk into, and you had packed a suitcase with enough to get by in Montreux until you found your feet.

The next morning, you and Roger sat in his car outside your office building in silence.

“Just remember, I’m out here,” Roger said quietly, stroking circles above your knee.

You took a series of deep breaths, doubting your ability to march into the office and drop the letter on your boss’ desk. “All I need to do, is give Stephen the letter, clear my desk and then we can go.” You nodded, walking yourself through the perfectly plotted road map in your brain. “What if someone stops me?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the headrest. “I don’t know if I could face the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Just tell them it’s a family emergency and that you don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“But you’re better at these things than I am. You only have to breathe their air and people like you.”

“What do you care if those idiots like you?” he snorted. Then he grabbed your shoulders, ready for another one of his world class pep talks. “You’re never going to see them again. And if they talk to the papers, you’re not going to be in the bloody country to read it. You’re gonna be chilling on a lakeside promenade, with a cocktail in your hand, enjoying night after night of boring missionary sex with me, your adoring and very rich boyfriend. You’re better than that fucking dump behind you and you know it!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you reluctantly agreed. Staring down that the carefully typed and labelled letter in your hands, you huffed. “Guess I’m gonna have to do this now, before everyone else arrives.”

“You’ve got…” Roger paused, looking at his watch. “Five minutes, to complete your mission, Agent Kitten. Good luck.”

You chuckled and grabbed the boxes in the footwell.

The walk into your poky marketing agency went well. Your legs managed to function and your head stayed high as you sauntered through the doors one final time. The nerves dissipated as you entered the office, weaving your way through the gigantic fishbowl, looking at all the soulless drones, sitting at their desks, tapping away at their keyboards on the company’s next big brand project. And you knew, in that moment, how much you hated it.

That swell of hatred spurred you on as you stopped by your desk to dump the boxes. Of course, Steph and Cheryl looked up from their computer screens with raised eyebrows.

“What are those for?” Steph asked.

“Nothing,” you spat, turning on your heel towards your boss’ office.

He sat in a glass room at the far end of the main office. He loved to look out on his sea of minions and watch them waste their lives while he collected a vastly overinflated salary that said more about his greed than his talent or work ethic.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you realised his office was empty. You were able to slip inside his glass tank and pop the envelope on his desk, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders once and for all.

Mission accomplished.

Time to clear your desk.

Like a panther on a hunt, you slunk back to your desk undetected, and cleared your personal belongings away, erasing the two years of your life you had spent at this very spot. You removed the photos of your friends from the grey partition boards, and ripped them up. You safely stowed your collection of cacti and succulents in one box. Then you moved on to your drawers; rifling through them for the essentials.

It astounded you how much crap you accumulated in two years. But then, you couldn’t remember the last time you tossed anything out. There were spare packets of star shaped confetti from your first Christmas party, birthday cards, five half empty jars of instant coffee, not to mention a stack of unfinished notebooks and pens in abundance. Knowing where your real priorities lay, you scooped up the bundle of notebooks and pens and dumped them alongside your plants.

You eyed your prized possessions with overwhelming satisfaction. Standing there with your hands on your hips, you realised that you managed this with no resistance from your co-workers. Until Steph lingered beside you.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, jabbing her finger painfully into your arm. “You’re leaving and you didn’t tell us! Did you get the sack?” she prodded.

“No, it’s an urgent family thing abroad that I need to get to. I don’t now when I’ll be back,” you bumbled, trying to remember the spiel Roger taught you, for use in emergencies.

“Won’t you have time for drinks?” Cheryl piped up, peering over the partition.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, shaking your head in an attempt to sound disappointed. Inside you were elated. “I need to be at the airport in an hour. Flight takes off soon.” And with that, you grabbed your belongings and headed for the door as fast as your legs could carry you.

But then, your boss slipped through, his face falling when he saw the box in your arms. “Where do you think you’re going? Get back to your desk, I haven’t given you permission to leave.”

You barged past him. His mistake for holding to door open for you, you thought. You could still hear him bellowing down the corridor as you headed for the exit. “Fuck you, Stephen!” you roared, throwing up the middle finger behind you.

Roger was waiting for you as you practically ran to his car. He stood, leaning against it. Sunglasses on, sleeves rolled up, pushing his thick, messy mane out of his face. “How’d it go, Kitten?” he asked, taking the box from you and looking inside at your loot.

“It was amazing,” you wheezed, realising how cathartic the experience was for you. “Threw my boss the middle finger as I left. It felt so fucking good. Better than sex. Better than driving one of your cars. I can’t even describe it,” you wittered as Roger put your box in the boot.

He closed it and turned to you, a smile trying to burst from his lips. “I’m really fucking proud of you.”

“So, now we go to the airport?” you asked, pressing your toe into the pavement.

“To the airport,” Roger grinned, getting back into the car.

“I’ve always wondered,” you pondered as the car hurtled down the motorway, “what happens when you leave the car at the airport?”

“I’m not leaving the car at the airport. Some poor intern at the label is going to come and collect it, and they’re going to put it into storage for me for when I make my return. Whenever that’ll be.”

“Right,” you sighed, remembering that you had a flat to empty. “And what about my place?”

“That’s easy. We can get some removal men in when we get to Montreux and they’ll put all your stuff into storage with my car. For when you make your return!” he explained excitedly. “Whenever that’ll be!”

“Fuck. We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” you sighed.

“Yeah!” Roger grinned, his eyebrows peeking out from the rims of his shades. “We really are!”

Just like the first time you and Roger boarded a plane together, your stomach stretched itself tight with apprehension. But that wasn’t to say you didn’t feel like you were making the right choice. Roger made you happy, you thought as he led you across the tarmac towards the small private plane. When you got inside, you realised it was exactly the same one as before and again, you took care not to touch anything, for fear that some other couple had done exactly what you and Roger had done between your trip to Ibiza and now.

You and Roger plonked yourselves down next to each other on the leather sofa as stewardesses flocked to you, offering canapés and flutes of champagne. Something to make the flight to Geneva go in a bit faster.

The plane took off, and the pair of you watched like excited children as clouds shrouded the plane, and then dissipated just as fast, leaving you soaring through the air, high above home and not knowing when you’ll ever return.

“Should we put on some music?” Roger murmured, twirling stands of your hair around his fingers. “Spice things up a bit?”

“What like last time?”

He grinned, looking utterly irresistible with his half-buttoned shirt and his dark sunglasses. “Exactly like last time. But better.”

You watched from the sofa as Roger got to his feet and wandered over to the stereo.

“Taylor Swift?”

“Nah.”

“Springsteen?”

“We always listen to Springsteen.”

“I know,” Roger giggled, waggling his finger in the air. “I’ve got just the song for this occasion.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to hit play on his phone.

The first few bars of ‘Danger Zone,’ boomed through the speakers, sending you into a fit of giggles. But nothing could prepare you for what came next as Roger moved towards you, swaying every part of his body to the beat.

“What are you doing?” you laughed.

“Just sit back, relax,” Roger said, turning away from you. He batted his hips from side to side, bending over to give you an unrestricted view of his bottom as he wiggled and writhed. “And enjoy the view.”

>>NEXT>>

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #queen

76 notes · View notes