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fanfictionalraven · 29 days

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Right Where You Left Me

Title: Right Where You Left Me

Summary: The reader, a waitress at the local diner, has become good friends with Dean. What happens when he disappears without a trace?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Castiel

Word Count: 7,309

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril

Author's Note: This story takes place through the events of the second half of season 12, starting with episode 9 "First Blood". It's also the first story I've actually written and published in nearly 6 years, so grant me a little grace please. Enjoy!!

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A voice says. You snap from your thoughts and look at the people sitting at the table in front of you. You’d gotten distracted by the bell at the door, a new customer coming in. Not the one you were looking for though. Putting on your best smile, you shake your head slightly.

“I’m so sorry. Where were we?” You ask, glancing at the notepad in your hand.

“We were trying to ask you about the pie of the day,” the woman says. You nod and try not to sigh.

“Cherry,” you tell her. Dean’s favorite. They order two slices which you deliver to them quickly before going into the kitchen. “Stew, I’m taking a 10,” you announce to the cook. He waves a hand at you and glances at the clock.

“Make it 5,” he shouts as you slip out the back door. Leaning against the wall with a sigh, you slip the brace off of your wrist and roll the sore joint slowly, wincing.

“This job,” you mumble before pulling your phone from your apron. Going into your recent calls, you hit the name at the top. Dean. He wasn’t going to answer. He hadn’t in weeks after all, calls or texts. It rings…and rings…and rings. Just as you’re about to give up, the final ring is cut off.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice asks, curiously. Confusion and a million unpleasant thoughts sweep over you in an instant.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to reach Dean,” you say.

“This is his phone. At least, I think it is…who is this?” She asks. You sigh and run a hand over your face.

“My name’s Y/N. I…I work at a diner and Dean’s one of my regulars. I haven’t seen him in a while and…I was worried,” you tell her. You can hear the confusion in her voice when she responds.

“A waitress who has her customer’s numbers and calls to check up on them?” She asks.

“No. Well…yes, but…Dean’s more than just a customer,” you say.

“What exactly is Dean then?” She asks, a slight edge to her voice. What is Dean? That was the very question you’d spent countless nights asking yourself.

When Dean had first wandered into the diner and sat in your section, he was just another tip. Sure, the two of you had flirted but, to be honest, you flirted with most of your customers. You had bills to pay after all. He came back the very next night, claiming the pie had just been too good. On his fifth visit to the diner, he wandered in just as you clocked out and invited you to join him. You sat in that booth across from him for hours, laughing and talking. At the end of his seventh trip, you slipped your phone number to him on the back of his bill. He’d called you before his car was even out of the parking lot.

That was nearly a year ago and the two of you talked and texted regularly ever since. Sure, he’d go silent for a little while but then he’d saunter into the diner, give you a crooked smile, and ask for the pie of the day. Throughout that year, the two of you flirted, laughed, and teased each other. There had been a few occasions when he’d catch you as you were leaving, place a to-go order, and then you’d ride in his car out to some deserted spot to talk and eat. You’d gotten to know each other intimately. In an emotional sense that is. Dean always kept you at arm’s length. He’d never asked you on a real date. Your coworkers insisted he was probably married and just stringing you along. And now some strange woman was answering his phone and…

“Y/N?” The woman on the line says.

“Sorry. A friend. Dean’s…a really good friend,” you tell her. “Can I ask who you are?”

“I’m Mary,” she starts and you immediately let out a heavy sigh.

“His mother. Of course,” you breathe with relief.

“Yes,” she says, slightly surprised.

“He’s talked about you a lot. Where is Dean?” You ask. Now, it was Mary’s turn to sigh.

“We don’t know,” she tells you.

“What?” You ask. “It’s his job, isn’t it?” You didn’t know exactly what Dean did but he’d come into the diner beaten and bruised on a few occasions.

“Well…yes,” she says.

“Have you called the police?”

“Y/N, break’s over,” Stew calls from the back door.

“Give me a minute!!” You yell to him. He grumbles and slams the door shut. “You have called the police, right, Mary?”

“That’s not exactly an option,” she says, slowly.

“Well…what about Sam? Or…or Cas?” You ask. There’s the briefest of pauses.

“I’m…I’m here with Mary,” a second voice says.

“And Sam was with Dean,” Mary adds. Cas was there as well, listening to your conversation. You frown and pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to think.

“I want to help,” you tell them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N but…we don’t even know you,” she says.

“Well, then, come meet me. I get off at 8:00,” you say before giving her the address for the diner. “If you don’t show up, I’ll call the police and report them missing myself.”

“We’ll be there,” Mary says before disconnecting the line. You slip the phone back into your apron pocket and run your hands over your face. Sliding the brace back onto your wrist, you head back into the diner.

The rest of your shift drags on slowly. You don’t make nearly as much as you could have on tips, your normal perky personality absent. At 8:15, you finally manage to clock out, throwing your apron into the dirty linens bag. You rush out the front door and look around, phone in hand. The front doors of an unfamiliar car open at the same time. Mary, you recognize her from the old pictures Dean had shown you, gets out of the driver’s side, and the man you assume to be Cas gets out as well.

“Y/N?” Mary asks, watching you. You nod and rush over to the two of them.

“While I wish it was under different circumstances, it’s nice to finally meet you both,” you tell them, holding a hand out. Mary gives you a quick once over before placing her hand in yours.

“I wish I could say the same but…”

“Dean never mentioned me,” you say. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact. You’d often wondered and now you knew for sure. You were a secret.

“So, what exactly do you know about their work?” Mary asks. You frown and shrug.

“Not much. I figure…best case, CIA…worst case, I dunno…the mafia,” you say, more than a little embarrassed. Mary smiles a little and looks down at the ground.

“Not exactly. It’s a bit more freelance than that,” she says.

“Like a bounty hunter?” You ask. Mary shakes her head, looking around.

“I’d rather not discuss it here. Would you be willing to go back to the bun…where the boys live and talk there?” She asks.

“Of course,” you agree, immediately.

***

Never get in the car with strangers. The age old advice rang through your ears as you rode in the back seat to wherever Mary and Cas were taking you. Of course, these two weren’t exactly strangers. They were at least Dean’s mother and best friend. You truly felt like you actually knew them with how much he’d talked about them.

Mary continues to drive as you watch the cityscape disappear. It isn’t too long before she’s pulling onto a desolate looking road. The road leads into a dark tunnel, only lit by the headlights of Mary’s car. Your eyes have to readjust when she pulls into a much more brightly lit area. Looking around, you find a room that appears to be a garage holding several very old cars. This much at least screamed Dean, relaxing you a little.

“You said they live here?” You ask, trying to wrap your mind around that statement.

“Yes. It’s an old bunker. Used to be home to a secret society, the Men of Letters,” she tells you. You nod and try to keep your face in check. You can feel her watching you in the rearview mirror.

“Are they in this secret society then? You ask as she parks the car.

“No,” she answers. “It died out in America decades ago. There is still an active branch in London though.”

“Douchebags,” Cas mutters. You both look at him and he glances between the two of you. “That’s what Dean calls them.” You let out a small laugh as the three of you get out of the car. Mary leads the way through the bunker quietly. You follow, looking around and trying to take in as much as you can. She leads the two of you into what you assume is a library given the shelves of books all along the walls.

“You drink?” She asks, holding up a bottle of brown liquid. You nod as you take a seat at the table. Admittedly, you were more of a wine drinker but you felt the impending conversation would require something stronger. Mary pours two glasses and sets one in front of you before walking around to the other side of the table. She takes the seat opposite you and looks at the glass, swirling it slightly. “You sure about this, Y/N? Once you know the truth, leaving it behind can be pretty difficult.”

“Please,” is all you manage to say. She nods and throws her drink back quickly.

“Alright,” she starts. “I come from a long line of hunters. Not the kind you’re thinking of. My family hunted monsters. Ghosts, demons, witches, vampires.” You strive to keep your face in check as you take a slow drink. This was not what you were expecting at all. “When I was 19, dating John, the boys’ father, a demon killed him and my parents. He offered me a deal. He would bring John back and we could live a normal life, as long as I gave him permission to enter my home in 10 years. I was suddenly alone and holding the dead body of the love of my life. I agreed. Ten years later, he entered my home and killed me. John took the boys on the road and they became hunters as well.”

Mary stops as you stand slowly and make your way over to the bottle she had used earlier. With shaking hands, you refill your glass before downing it quickly. This was insane. Mary was insane. There was no way this was real.

“Mary…I…you really expect me to believe all this?” You ask, looking back at her now. She shrugs slightly and looks at Cas. You’d forgotten he was even there. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf behind her, watching you. You look at him as he starts to make his way around the table towards you.

Panic quickly rises in your throat and you have to remind yourself that these are Dean’s people. At least…you’re fairly certain they are. You’d never seen pictures of Cas and the only ones you had seen of Mary were from when Dean was just a child. Now, this strange woman was trying to convince you that monsters were real and your friend hunted them for a living. Cas stops next to you and looks down at your hand.

“Why are you wearing that brace?” He asks. You blink, surprised. You’d half expected him to knock you unconscious.

“I, ummm…” You hold it up and shake your head. “Carpal Tunnel from work.” Cas nods and briefly touches two fingers to your forehead before you can even register the movement.

“You won’t need it anymore,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief before taking the brace off. For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel any pain as you roll your wrist in every direction. You look back up at Cas and then at Mary. She smiles and shrugs.

“Angel,” she says. You know the shock is clear all over your face as Cas helps you back to your seat. The three of you sit in silence for a little while as you process all of this information. You’re grateful for the time they give you.

“You, ummm…” You stop and look at Mary. “You said you died.” She runs a hand across her forehead and looks at you, debating on if you’re prepared for more information. You give her the best reassuring smile you can manage at the moment.

“God’s sister brought me back as a thank you gift to Dean and Sam for helping her reunite with her brother,” she says. You’re absolutely certain your jaw hits the table.

“Well…that was…nice,” you manage. “And they were on a…a hunt when they disappeared?”

“Lucifer had possessed the president of the United States,” Cas starts. “We were going to exorcise him and return him to his cage in hell.”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, immediately beginning to massage your temples. “This is…this is a lot.”

“Now you know why Dean never told you,” Mary says. You nod, still attempting to rub away the migraine threatening to explode behind your eyes.

“I, ummm…can I take a walk?” You ask. Mary nods, smiling a little. You hoped you were handling this better than she expected. You’re still shaking as you rise from your seat again and make your way down one of the hallways. Your mind thinks back over things Dean had mentioned about his work and, frankly, it lined up. He’d never given you a lot of details but now it was starting to make sense.

You stop in the middle of the hallway and glance around. Your curiosity gets the better of you causing you to push open the door in front of you. It was a bedroom, modestly decorated. You make your way into the room and find a familiar picture sitting on the bedside table. It was the photo Dean had shown you of him and his mother. Glancing around the room, you surmise that it must be his room.

You pull open the drawer of the bedside table and gasp. Inside you find several things, another gun, a handful of credit cards, and fake ID’s. But the most surprising thing was sitting right on top. You gingerly pick up the picture and can’t help but smile. It’s of you, sitting in the front seat of Dean’s car, laughing. You remembered when he’d taken it, one of the many nights you’d spent talking. You didn’t realize he’d had it printed and kept it so close. Maybe you were more than just a secret.

“Y/N?” Mary asks from the doorway. You look up at her and she smiles. “I was getting ready to head out when you called, a vampire thing in Missouri. Cas said he’d take you back.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” you tell her. She nods once and leaves you alone.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You call Stew and make up a story about a death in the family out of state, telling him you’ll need a week or two off. He reluctantly agrees. You stay at the bunker with Cas after that. Your days are spent diving into the lore books in the old bunker, learning anything and everything you can. Cas teaches you how to do “research”, showing you how to tell the difference between normal weird and supernatural weird. He shows you one of the spare bedrooms but you end up sleeping in Dean’s room instead.

The two of you are making your way to the library when you hear Cas’s phone ringing. He rushes ahead to answer it and you go over to a new shelf to find something else to study.

“What?” He answers the phone. “Dean?” The book you’d picked out slips from your hand and you rush to his side. “What, what happened? Wh-where are you?” You stare at him, tears stinging your eyes. He grabs a pen and pad off the table and quickly jots down a note. Rocky Mountain National Park. State Route 34. “Yes. – Wait, where? – Wait, what does that…” Cas sighs and sets the phone down, frowning.

“What did he say?? Are they okay??” You ask. He glances at you and shrugs.

“He sounded rushed. Like they were being chased,” he says. You nod and pick up the notepad, trying to hide the rush of emotions you were feeling.

“We’ve got to call Mary. Meet up with her and get to Colorado,” you tell him. He looks at you quickly and frowns.

“No, Y/N. It’s too dangerous for you to come along,” he says, taking the notepad. You shake your head, tears falling freely as you look up at the angel.

“Cas, please,” you beg. His resolve breaks instantly and he sighs, picking his phone back up.

“Dean would not approve,” he mumbles before calling Mary.

The two of you pull into a parking lot several hours later. Mary’s car is already sitting, waiting. She gets out and clenches her jaw when she sees you rise from the passenger side of Cas’s car.

“You got here quickly,” Cas remarks. Mary nods, eyes fixed on you.

“Yep. What the hell is she doing here??” She asks. Cas sighs and looks over at you.

“Mary, please. I won’t get in the way, I swear,” you tell her. Frowning, she shakes her head, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

“Y/N, it’s not about you being in the way. We have no idea what we’re walking into. I’m more worried about you getting hurt and what that would do to Dean,” she says. Swallowing hard, you set your jaw. Mary wasn’t going to see you cry too.

“Please. I have to be there. I need to see him with my own eyes,” you plead. She watches you for a moment, debating internally.

“Dean’s gonna kill us,” she says before turning to Cas. “We may want backup.”

“Crowley and Rowena?” He asks. She scoffs and you glance between them.

“The King of Hell and his mother, the witch?” She asks. You frown and shake your head.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you comment. Mary smiles a little and looks at Cas.

“I hope we can do better than them.”

“I may have an idea,” he says. Mary nods and makes for the driver’s side of her own car.

“Good. Seat belts on. I drive fast,” she tells the two of you as you load into the car as well.

The British Men of Letters. That was Cas’s idea. Mary almost immediately pulls out, supposing “the demon and his mommy” don’t sound so bad anymore. You hang back, watching the situation unfold. The two Brits, Mick and Ketch from what you gather, offer their services seemingly free of charge. They make a few phone calls, getting access to a satellite of the area Dean had mentioned. Mary and Cas are able to deduce the direction they’re headed and a good spot to meet them.

The two cars move to the new location and you all unload once again. You look up at the night sky and think about the last night you’d spend with Dean. He’d picked you up from the diner at closing time and drove you out of town to a remote location. You’d both laid on the hood of the car, splitting the last of the pie of the day.

“Y/N,” Mary says, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to face her and immediately launch into pleading again.

“Mary, please. I don’t want to wait here while you two go on…”

“Stop,” she says, holding her hand up. “That’s not what I was going to say. Dean’s already gonna be pissed we brought you. He’d kill us both if we left you with those two. Just stay close to us and if something goes wrong, run back here.” You manage a relieved smile and follow her and Cas further up into the woods.

The three of you come into a small clearing and it isn’t long before there’s a rustling in the brush. Cas and Mary both move into a defensive stance in front of you. You wring your hands as you wait. Cas takes a few steps closer to the noise just as Dean and Sam fall through the bushes. Your heart jumps into your throat at the sight of Dean and you almost break down crying right then.

“Sam, Dean,” Cas says, relieved. You can see the tension immediately leave Mary’s shoulders as she takes in the sight of her boys. Sam rises first and pulls Cas into a tight hug. His eyes land on Mary and he smiles.

“Mom,” he says, letting Cas go. He starts to make his way across the clearing towards her when you register the confusion on his face. Dean finally stands and hugs Cas as well. Sam pulls Mary into a tight embrace that she immediately returns. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Y/N??” Dean’s voice rings across the clearing. You smile, swallowing back tears, and wave slightly. “The hell is she doing here??” His voice is thick with anger as he makes his way over to Mary. The venom in his words takes you by surprise. Mary raises her hands slightly.

“She was worried about you. Called your phone. I answered and she wanted to help,” she explains. You and Dean stand there, staring at each other. Dean’s eyes are full of a rage you can’t even begin to comprehend.

“How much do you know?” He asks.

“A lot more than I did a week ago,” you tell him. He shakes his head and looks to the sky before looking at his mother.

“Hey, Mom,” he mumbles, pulling her into a hug. She lets out a gasp of surprise and returns the embrace. Dean’s eyes never leave your face. “Let’s get out of here,” he says before walking straight past you.

You take a shaky breath and run your hands over your face. You had anticipated he’d be angry, of course. But you had hoped the joy of being together again would cancel that anger out at some point. Mary pats your shoulder before she starts to follow Dean. You debate on staying right there in the woods for a moment before falling in step behind them. Sam clears his throat slightly as you all walk.

“Mom, how did yall even find us?” He asks, attempting to break the tension.

“They helped,” she says, pointing to Mick and Ketch as they come into view.

“Dammit!! They know about her now too??” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, get in the car.” You stare at him in disbelief for a moment. “Car. Now,” he demands. You wipe at your eyes furiously as you storm back to Mary’s car. Sliding into the middle of the back seat, you realize for the first time that the Dean you knew and this Dean, the real Dean, may not be the same person.

The five of them talk for only a moment before coming to the car. Cas takes the passenger seat quickly and Dean doesn’t hide the dirty look he gives him. You shake your head, unable to believe that having to sit by you in the car was that unsettling. Had you misinterpreted your entire relationship? Sam gets in on your other side and smiles at you, awkwardly.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” He asks. You look at him and smile bitterly.

“Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you Sam. I’ve heard so much about you. And don’t worry. I know the feeling can’t be mutual. You’ve never heard of me before, have you?” You ask, letting your anger burst out for a moment. Dean’s hand tightens into a fist on his leg as he stares out the window. Sam’s awkward smile becomes apologetic before Mary changes the subject, filling them in on everything they’d missed.

Mary continues to drive on into the night. You catch Sam and Dean both nervously glancing at the clock at the front of the car. They seem to only be getting more anxious as the minutes tick by.

“So wait, you're hunting?” Dean asks his mother. She glances back at him in the mirror and shrugs.

“A little bit,” she says. Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Yea, I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teases.

The exact second the clock switches over to 12:00, midnight, the car dies. Mary eases it onto a bridge as she tries the key again.

“It’s time,” Sam says, getting out of the car. You look at him then over at Dean.

“Stay in the car,” Dean tells you. Rolling your eyes, you slide out right behind him, tired of being ordered around tonight. The others all get out as well and look around, taking in their surroundings.

“What’s happening?” Mary asks.

“Yea, Dean. Sup?” A new voice says. You all look over to find a woman standing in the middle of the bridge. You look around, trying to figure out where she could have possibly come from. Dean takes an immediate step in front of you, shielding your entire body. Instinctively, you step closer to him, your hand coming to rest on his back, assuring him you were there and okay.

“Billie?” Mary asks, recognition and confusion mixed on her face.

“The reaper?” Cas asks. You close your eyes, trying to think back over your studies. It wasn’t one of things you’d become familiar with but gauging everyone’s reactions, this wasn’t a good thing.

“I don’t understand,” Mary says, shaking her head. Dean sighs and hangs his head.

“Mom, that place…there was only one way we were getting out of there, and that wasn’t breathing,” he starts to explain. You glance around at everyone and notice the horrified look on Cas’s face. “So I made a call.”

“Dean talked to her and then Billie came to talk to me,” Sam continues the story. “And we made a deal. We’d get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange…”

“Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-bye. Like, permanently,” Billie says, smiling. “And that is something I’ve been looking forward to for a long time.”

“No,” you whisper from behind Dean.

“Why would you –,” Mary starts.

“We were already dead,” Dean tells her. “Being locked in that cell with nothing…I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.”

“At least this way, one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam finishes. You shake your head, taking a step away from Dean.

“No,” you say again. He looks over his shoulder at you and his anger has completely dissolved. “Dean, no.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Billie says, waving. You look at her in utter shock but Dean steps between the two of you again.

“Leave her out of this,” he growls.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cas says, shaking his head.

“Yea, they do,” Billie says. “We made a pact bound in blood, You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it gonna be?” She asks, looking between the brothers. Sam looks at Dean, then at you, and back to Dean who shakes his head.

“Me,” Mary says before either of them can answer. She turns to face Billie, pulling her handgun from her waistband. Sam and Dean both immediately object, stepping forward to stop her. Billie flings both of them away with a wave of her hand. You rush to Dean’s side and fall next to him, immediately checking him for injuries. He shakes his head and fights to rise to his feet again.

“You said come midnight, a Winchester dies?” Mary asks. “I’m a Winchester.”

“Works for me,” Billie says with a smile. Mary cocks the gun and raises it toward her head. Sam and Dean both object loudly again, fighting to get to her.

“I love you,” Mary sniffs. Just as she’s about to pull the trigger, a sharp pointed blade pierces through Billie’s chest from behind and she immediately falls dead. You stare in shock at the dead body lying before you. Cas stands over her, the blade in his hand dripping blood. Mary lowers her gun as Dean and Sam are finally able to get to their feet. Dean takes your hand, pulling you up as well. You begin to pale as you stare at the body.

“Cas, what have you done?” Dean asks, looking at his best friend in shock.

“What had to be done,” he says. “You know this world – this sad, doomed little world – it needs you…” Your ears begin to ring and you take a shaky step closer to Dean. His arm comes around your waist, eyes never leaving Cas as he continues to talk. Something about keeping all the Winchesters alive.

“Dean,” Mary says, pointing to you. “First dead body.” Dean looks down at you just as you go completely limp in his arms.

Dean runs his hands over his face before taking a long swig off his beer. A lot had happened in the last day; dying, coming back again, running, fighting for their lives, getting back to their family, you, Billie, you, Cas killing a reaper…you. That was really the only thing on his mind…you. He had so carefully built a relationship with you. A relationship based on half truths and secrets but a relationship nevertheless. Now, you knew the whole nasty truth. It was going to be Lisa all over again…

“Dean?” Mary asks, sticking her head into the kitchen. He glances over his shoulder and smiles a little. “Can I join you?” Nodding, he points to the empty seat across from him. She walks over, taking the seat quietly. He stares at the bottle in his hands. “Dean…”

“You shouldn’t have told her,” he tells her firmly. “It wasn’t your place. I didn’t want her to know. She was safer not knowing. Now…I’ll never see her again.”

“What? Why?” Mary asks, confused. Dean stands and throws his empty bottle into the trash.

“To keep her safe!!” He snaps, spinning on her angrily. “People around me don’t hang around too long. They either run or they die. It’s as simple as that. Especially the ones who mean the most to me. And she means…” He stops abruptly, emotion closing up his throat. Mary frowns as she stands and walks over to him.

“It only seems that way, Dean. Y/N, she’s…she’s strong. She took everything I told her in stride and she stayed. She stayed here with Cas and she’s been learning how to do the job,” she tells him.

“That’s even worse!! I don’t want her anywhere near this,” he says, fighting back tears. “If it was just normal hunter stuff then maybe but the stuff we deal with…Lucifer and Amara and God…I want her as far away from all of this as possible.”

“Don’t you think she should get a say in this?” Mary asks. He shakes his head, stubbornly.

“No. Soon as she wakes up, I’m taking her back home. I’ll never go back to that diner.. She’ll never see or hear from me again,” he says.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, standing just outside the kitchen door. You turn on your heels and rush down the hall towards the garage. Your car was there and you’d spent enough time at the bunker to know how to get out. You hadn’t heard much but you heard enough. Dean didn’t want to see you anymore, plain and simple.

***

Three months, five days.

That’s how long it had been since you last saw Dean. You’d left the bunker, rejected and heartbroken, and Dean had kept his word. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t come in for any pie. Life was back to normal. Boring, regular, normal. You found yourself reading into everything you saw on the news, wondering if it was a case Dean could be working at that very moment.

You’d volunteered to close down the diner for yet another night. Floors were mopped. Counters and tables wiped down. All you had left to do was lock up. Flipping off the lights, you step outside into the cool night air. You turn to lock the door when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. Damn it. You’d been so lost in thoughts about what you had believed was a werewolf in Michigan you hadn’t checked the parking lot first.

“Hello, love,” a heavy British accent says. There’s nothing familiar and certainly nothing friendly about the greeting. You stand frozen for a moment, weighing your options. You didn’t have many.

“We’re closed,” you say, not turning to face him yet.

“Not here for the pie,” he jokes. He’s closer than he had been.

“Look. My manager has already taken the deposit to the bank. I’ve got a few bucks in my purse and that’s it. I haven’t seen your face yet. You can turn around and leave, no consequences,” you tell him.

“Afraid not. Got a job to do. A message for your little hunter boyfriend,” he says. You let out a short laugh.

“You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree,” you say. His reflection is in the glass of the door now, standing right behind you. You take a deep breath and turn to face him finally. “Dean Winchester doesn’t care about me. Hurting me, won’t hurt him in any way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, brandishing a knife. You bring your knee up, hitting him in the groin. He grunts and doubles over, giving you enough time to run towards your car. Unfortunately, the blow doesn’t slow him down enough. Before you can make it to the car, he’s grabbed you by your waist, knife at your throat. “Any last words I can pass on to the Winchesters?” He breathes in your ear.

“Go to hell,” you spit at him. You feel the knife press harder against your skin as angry tears slide down your cheeks. What a way to go. Dying for a man who couldn’t care less.

Before the Brit can finish you off, a car whips into the dark parking lot, lights shining bright on the two of you. It takes your attacker by surprise and you feel his grip relax just enough. A sharp elbow to his abdomen has him letting you go. You fall to your knees as you attempt to run away. The car skids to a stop and you hear the voice you’d only dreamt of hearing again.

“Y/N!!” Dean yells as he runs at your attacker. He tackles him, knocking the knife from his hand as the two men hit the ground. Mary runs to your side as Sam runs to help Dean. You weren’t sure why. Dean had the upper hand, sitting atop the man, punching him in the face. Repeatedly. That’s when you realize, Sam wasn’t helping Dean. He was pulling him off.

“Dean, it’s over,” he tells his brother. “He’s dead.” Mary helps you to your feet, examining you as Dean makes his way over, wiping his bloodied hand off on his shirt.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Dean asks, taking your face in his hands. He looks you over and frowns at the knick on your neck. Running his thumb over it gently, he wipes the blood away.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, taken aback by his gentleness and concern. Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into a crushing hug. You gasp and freeze before slowly returning the embrace. Mary touches Sam’s shoulder and nods back towards the dead body. They slip away to deal with that and give you two some privacy. “Dean…”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I put you in so much danger,” he says, letting you go. “I didn’t know we were being watched. I didn’t know.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” You ask.

“The British Men of Letters. Turns out it was a join or die type of situation. They’ve been watching all of us for a while now. They knew about you before you ever knew anything,” he explains. “They had brainwashed Mom but we just got her back. Sam and Jody led a raid of the Brits’ headquarters. Saw the pictures of you, of us here. We got here as quick as we could.” He winces now and you finally register how badly beaten he looks.

“What happened to you?” You ask, knowing your attacker hadn’t even gotten one good swing in. He limps over to his car and leans back against the hood.

“Grenade launcher,” he says, pointing to his leg. “Bad fight with Ketch.” He points to the rest of himself.

“Gre...huh??”

“They locked us in the bunker. Shut off the air supply. It was our only way out. And it was freaking awesome,” he says, smirking now. You roll your eyes at him and try not to smile, fighting back that familiar feeling he always gave you.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be more careful. Try not to close up by myself anymore,” you tell him, crossing your arms. He nods slightly, watching you.

“Or you could come with me,” he says. You scoff a laugh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to babysit me, Dean. I’ll be fine,” you say.

“What?” He asks. You shrug, trying to give him a confident smile.

“I’m officially relieving you of the burden of my safety. Whatever happens to me, happens. Don’t let it get to your conscious,” you tell him, looking around for your purse.

“Y/N,” Dean says. He watches you walk over and pick up the discarded item. You throw it over your shoulder and look back at him. “Come here,” he says gently, holding a hand out.

“You don’t want me. I know that. Please stop this,” you say, looking down at the gravel under your feet. You hear him sigh and look up as he starts to limp towards you. “No. Stop. You’re hurt.” He rolls his eyes now before taking your face in his hands for the second time tonight. This time his eyes aren’t searching for injuries. They’re searching for answers.

“Why would you think I don’t want you?” He asks, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. You get lost in the green of his eyes for a moment before the memory of that night comes back.

“I heard you with Mary. You said I wouldn’t see or hear from you again. And I haven’t since I left the bunker that day,” you tell him, hating to relive those harsh words. He nods, his hands leaving your face. They don’t go far though, immediately coming to rest on your hips.

“Is that all you heard?” He asks. You nod, wishing he’d just let you go home instead of dragging this out. “I didn’t leave you alone because I didn’t want you. I left you alone because I needed to keep you safe, because I want you too much, because I care about you too much.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare up at him. You had to have died and gone to heaven for him to be saying these things, the things you wanted him to say so desperately.

“You were so mad when you saw me…”

“Because I didn’t want you anywhere near this life. Hunting, especially the things we end up hunting, it’s dangerous,” he pauses and closes his eyes. “I had just made a deal with a reaper to die. Again. I’d already resolved myself to the fact I wasn’t going to get to say a proper goodbye to you, tell you how I felt, how happy you’ve made me over the past year…and then you were there, right smack in the middle of everything. I was furious, yea, but not at you. I was mad at myself. I never shoulda came back here to begin with.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head. Nothing was making sense. Nothing but the feel of his hands on your waist. That was good. That was right.

“I fell for you so hard that first night I came in for dinner. I was just supposed to come in, pick up something for me and Sam, and head back to the bunker. But when I walked in and saw you…I had to know you,” he recalls. “I thought a couple of visits couldn’t hurt. I could just be a customer, see you, talk to you. Maybe you’d eventually learn my name. That third time I came in and saw you getting ready to leave I was devastated. So I asked you to join me, thinking there wasn’t a chance in hell. You’d just gotten off work. Surely you wanted to get out of there and get home. But you stayed and you sat with me and…I knew I was in trouble.” You’re crying now. You don’t know exactly when the tears started but they were falling quickly. Dean brings one hand up and wipes at each of your cheeks gently. “And then you gave me your number…man, I almost called you from the booth,” he laughs. You do as well, reaching up and taking his hand. You press a kiss into his palm.

“I never knew what we were. I was so confused,” you tell him.

“I’m sorry. I kept going back and forth. I told myself it was too dangerous, you were safer as my friend. But then I’d get you alone, in my car and…” His hand tightens slightly on your hip and he pulls you impossibly closer. “I wanted you so desperately.” His voice dropped lower and his eyes bore into your own.

“I wanted you too,” you just manage to whisper. His forehead is touching yours now. Your eyes flutter close as his breath washes over your face.

“No more secrets,” he says before finally bringing his lips in to meet yours. This isn’t a gentle, chaste first kiss. Your lips move desperately against his as your arms wrap around his neck. It was everything you’d imagined and nothing like you could have dreamed all at the same time. His lips were chapped but gentle. He tasted of mint and whiskey. The way his hands moved over your back, one sliding just beneath your shirt to caress the skin at the small of your back, was intoxicating. You force yourself to pull away, remembering that his family was in the near vicinity.

“I have one secret,” you admit. He looks down at you expectantly. “I freaking hate this job.” He laughs and shakes his head, kissing you once more quickly.

“Sweetheart, I got bad news. That ain’t a secret,” he teases. You laugh too as Dean looks over your shoulder at the diner. “This place is gonna go under without your pie. It’s the only reason anyone comes back.”

“Including you?” You ask. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks back down at you.

“Why do you think I’m keeping you at the bunker?” He asks. Laughing again, you try to step out of his arms but they only tighten around you. His face is suddenly serious again as he watches you. “But only if you’re absolutely sure. I can’t stress enough how dangerous this life is.” You smile as you take his face in your hands.

“Dean,” you start. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, Dean kisses you once again.

You leave your diner key in the door and a note taped to the glass.

I quit. -Y/N

****

Tags: @roseblue373

#fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #sam winchester #mary winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #cas #castiel #right where you left me #dean x waitress

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bobluvbot · 2 years

Text

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy!

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

#rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #miles teller #it’s maverick’s fault

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compacflt · 6 months

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Hi, big fan of your fics. I've just found your Tumblr and binged everything Icemav-related. When reading about Icemav's political beliefs, I've gotten curious. Does Bradley share the same political beliefs as Ice (and Mav)? Does being raised by them or them pulling his papers influence how he votes? Or there are other factors in the play (e.g. generations, social media)? How about Jake and the other Daggers? How does this young generation of the Navy perceive politics (elections, gender, etc.)? My apologies for bombarding you with questions. But as a non-American, American politics have always been something we must pay attention to. I've seen many interesting interpretations on Tumblr but it feels more or less wistful than realistic, but I might be wrong (again not an American) so I would love to see your perspective on this. Thank you.

a good politics roundup post before i leave this blog

icemav & their conservatism: here, here, here

ice’s NECESSARY conservatism as commander of the pacific fleet (i.e. officers who are most likely to get promoted to the highest ranks do NOT break the service line when it comes to domestic politics, so by necessity ice would’ve had to keep his mouth shut, he Cannot be both a four-star and a revolutionary, like he just can’t; and being a revolutionary is otherwise antithetical to his character anyway): here, here.

and the original “ice & mav politics post” which is being updated here: here

I’ve gone back and forth on everyones politics over the last year of me being involved with these characters, but let me just tell you where I’ve ended up headcanoning them politically, if ur interested

ice: reagan democrat. “educated moderate” who was more right-leaning pre-9/11. now just a regular ol liberal (did you SEE those gay little round glasses in tgm? no way this guy isn’t a straight-up lib) with absolutely no strong feelings about most domestic politics besides “fascism bad”. Has some foreign policy opinions that areeeee questionable at best, like all members of the military elite (hangman voice: DO NOT ASK ICEMAN ABOUT CHINA. WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE). foreign policy neoliberal favoring the dovish side of the spectrum. A force conservator (“let’s save our military assets [read: my boyfriend maverick 🥺] for when we really need them, not for any old conflict. the deterring specter of the American war machine should outweigh the risk of underperforming”). He’s in favor of marriage equality of course, but treats it like a privilege and not a right. would be sad/upset if it got repealed but wouldn’t necessarily fight for it. “well at least my marriage will always be legal in california so i just won’t leave, problem solved.” Normie median Biden voter.

mav: political wildcard tbh. original 1986 mav is DEFINITELY right-leaning (i think i’ve written elsewhere, “he fully believes bill clinton is an affront to god”). i get young republican vibes from him. Full on patriotic (but dispassionate) 1980s reaganite anti-commie neoconservative. but after the 2010s i am very confused tbh. Tom cruise’s political aura is an insanely confusing one. idk. No matter what, Mav has some Hot Takes that a.) can immediately be shot down by ice using Facts and Logic at any time and b.) are not strictly partisan. He’s registered democrat just to support marriage equality (his marriage is his top priority but he doesn’t care about Other gays’ marriages, only his own), doesn’t care about any of the party’s other lines. Votes however ice tells him to. I get real “kind clueless libertarian” vibes from 2022 maverick tbh. Especially with the “isolating himself in a hangar in the middle of the mojave desert.” that has a political connotation to it for sure. bro just does whatever he wants out there

also, ice & mav live in San Diego, which… while in blue/democrat leaning California…is famously a bastion of right-wingers & has a hitler particle level off the charts… (sorry its not my favorite place in the world). That’s why they’re both continually so disgusted by San Francisco (a metonym for effete liberal homosexuality). Theyre from San Diego, hatred of SF & liberal SF politics is kinda par for the course down there.

Bradley: as u will see in the extras i definitely hc Bradley as an activist, but because he’s… in the navy and also like in his 30s… It’s not college campus activism, it’s just “things all of us in the left wing can agree upon” activism. so, like, BLM or pride, etc. He’s an “in this house we believe” yard sign liberal. He is 38 years old. hes a solid millennial so not politically hip with the kids (me)

Bradley & ice/mav disagree on the VISIBILITY of politics. Ice & mav, who did live through the vietnam era draft/near-dissolution of American society in the 60s and 70s, are not in favor of possibly losing their job/honor they have fought and killed for, for the sake of a political statement. And they believe their relationship IS a political statement, whereas Bradley would rather encourage them to treat their relationship like, I don’t know, a relationship that has a right to exist independent of politics!

Jake and the other daggers: idk. i don’t really give a shit about the daggers sorry. They r blank slates 2 me. jake especially is canonically frat-boy sexist in a way that gives me the heebs, much like original 1986 maverick and ice. But the navy tends to be the most left-wing (or thought of as left wing in common thought) service of the military, if that helps. But it is also the most traditional service of the military, and by traditional I mean BRITISH!!!! 🇬🇧💂there’s so much pomp and circumstance and hoity-toitiness that comes from the navy’s origins in the Royal Navy. A lot of sticking to outdated tradition in the very fabric of the navy itself, while the navy’s enlisted demographics shift younger and more left-wing/“revolutionary…” some interesting conflicts there. Like that one sailor who got blasted by multiple congressmen on social media for (with permission!) reading a poem about their queer identity on the USS Gerald ford’s intercom a few months back, if I remember correctly. Hoo boy the Takes that day were wild. Younger Americans tend to be more liberal but YMMV with officers, who are by nature trying to uphold outdated traditions of the navy for the sake of keeping the navy a unified service

i am of course writing carole as a christian republican who has gay friends and a gay kid not by choice but by the Grace of God

#i realize some terminology in this post is so hyperamericanspecific that you may need to Google it #like the in this house we believe yard sign #it’s… like… i can’t even describe it. it’s a kind of well meaning liberal who can sometimes be a little cringe.#and Reagan democrats (which ice is) are a whole political subgroup in and of themselves #maybe not Reagan democrat but like conservadem? but no that’s different too #blue dog democrat? but not sure he’s that conservative #THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY HAS BECOME SUCH A BIG TENT POST TRUMP THERE ARE 50.000 TYPES OF DEMOCRAT YOU CAN BE #san francisco as a metonym for effete liberal homosexuality of course (it’s where im from 😎😎)#it’s a ten hour drive from SF to San diego like they might as well be different countries. san diego secede from the US when 🙏🏽#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #icemav #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #normie median biden voter ice #the navy is liberalizing but veeeeery slowly #most of the conservative pressure ive seen towards the navy is external! policymakers & budget drafters etc #the navy is very liberal BUT that makes it a laughingstock among conservatives!#so a desire from higher-ups to push the Navy more conservative to be taken seriously…is kinda understandable #when being taken seriously means more ships more capability more money etc #instead of GOP culture-war-pilled pennypinchers going ‘hey why are we givin the gay service so much money’#take this post with a grain of salt. i have never been old enough to vote in a federal election.

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cambot77 · 10 days

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When you mentioned Becky doesn’t know how to budget, I came up with this short caption.

Anya: So, how’s living like a “commoner”?

Becky: Oh, it’s been great actually. I’m shopping for my own food and getting stuff that I like and good for me. Don’t know why you make things so hard?

Cashier: That will be 200.

Becky: Okay, just put it on the blackbell account and bag it up please.

Cashier:…I have no idea what you’re taking about.

Becky: I-Oh! I forgot, you see my dad is making me live like a working class person as a punishment and usually when I buy something I told them to put it on the blackbell account. But I forgot about that.

cashier: That’s great, you still own 200 for all the food.

Becky: I don’t have that much money, can I pay the what I have and pay the rest when I’m done with my punishment?

Cashier: *Baffled* I’m sorry but we don’t give stuff away.

Becky: So what can I do to pay this bill?!

*Later* Anya:…That uniform matches your…socks.

Becky, in a cashier uniform: I feel remorse for you Anya.

Aaah, Anon! This is great! So sorry for the late response - I've been thinking about this for a long time, though.

----

Becky shut the locker door with a snap and took a moment to rest her head against the cold metal. The employee breakroom was deserted at this time of night as most of the other closers were either finishing their final tasks or had already gone home for the night, but Becky being new (and therefore slow at her job) still had to mop the aisles of the store and put the go-backs on the shelves. She had slipped into the breakroom to take a breather, and the pounding at her temples echoed the pounding of her feet where they pressed against the still-stiff pleather of her new work shoes.

To say the day had been hellish was an understatement. She had thought that this last day of her first week would be a bit easier than previous days, but she had been wrong. The milestone meant nothing, because even though seven days had passed, Becky was still struggling to master even the most basic tasks of this, her first job, ever. Which she shouldn't even need to have in the first place! How was she to know that Daddy had been serious about his threats to cut off her access to the Blackbell money if she moved in with Bill while they were still in college? It was ridiculous to still think like that these days, but he had actually meant it! She had been shocked when she had tried to make purchases at her usual stores and been denied, and a quick trip to the bank had just confirmed that Mr. Blackbell was playing hardball with his rebellious daughter. Well, two could play at that game. Becky had always prided herself on her resolve, and if her father thought he could bring her to heel and give up her independence and love using money, of all things, then he was sorely mistaken.

That still left the matter of how to afford things. Bill had his own savings but Becky had never saved because she had never needed to. That had been a very frank conversation between them, but Becky had been confident that she would be able to contribute. Getting a job had never been a goal of hers, but after all, people went to work and made money every day. How hard could it possibly be?

Apparently, very, if her aching back and oncoming headache were any indication, and that didn't even begin to touch on the positively awful way some of the customers had talked to her that day. Who knew people could be so terrible over trivial things? Was it her fault they had run out of sale items, or that all the cashiers had decided to go on break at once? No, and yet she had borne the brunt of their anger just because she had been close by at the time! She wasn't even a manager! It just wasn't fair!

But she'd persevere, because the alternative was just too awful to think about.

Her father would pry her housekey with Bill out of her cold, dead hands.

Filled with fresh resolve, Becky stood up straight again and slapped her cheeks to get some life back into her. Just half an hour to go, and then she could go home to the apartment she and Bill now lived in. It was modest (to her eyes, it was still larger than most family dwellings in the city) but nicely furnished, and Bill would be home, waiting for her, to kiss her and tell her she had done well that day and make everything worthwhile again.

She smiled to herself. Yes, it was all worthwhile just for that. For him. Because she knew that he would work jobs like this - or even worse ones - if it meant they could be together. How could she do any less in return?

"Becky!" someone called before they opened the breakroom door, and she looked up just as Dwayne, the manager on duty, came in.

"There you are," he said, and rifled through a stack of envelopes in his hands. "Thought you'd left already."

Becky shook her head. "I still have to do the mopping. What are those?" She gestured to the envelopes in his hand. Dwayne looked at her curiously.

"Our pay packets? Today is pay day, you know."

"Oh!" Becky exclaimed in surprise and delight. "We get paid in envelopes!"

"Uh... yeah." Dwayne handed over the envelope with a raised eyebrow. She had put a different last name on her hiring paperwork, so her lack of general commoner knowledge sometimes caused her co-workers to look at her strangely because they did not know one of the richest heiresses in Berlint was stacking cans amongst them. She knew they thought her an escapee from a boarding school or some such thing, but in that moment, she did not care. Becky ripped into the envelope eagerly. Finally, all of her hard work was paying off!

Then, her face fell.

"This... this is it?"

Dwayne was already going back out the door. "If you have an issue, call corporate payroll. And don't forget to leave out the wet floor signs when you mop this time."

Becky slumped against the lockers, not in defeat, but in something very much like it. How could a week of work only earn the sum in the envelope? She did the mental math, but each time, the numbers didn't lie.

She had spent more than this on a single meal in the past, and now looking back, she cursed herself for her wastefulness. Money wasn't just numbers in a bank account or an intangible, invisible thing to her anymore; it was hours of work, discomfort, and real, hard proof of her efforts. It meant food in the cupboard, lights in the apartment, heat, hot water, all of it. It wasn't a certainty anymore but it was still a necessity, and as she stood there and counted her pay one more time, she realized something equally important.

This was the moment her father had been counting on to break her. He had probably hoped that when she tallied up her pay and expenses and saw the imbalance, she would be swamped with hopelessness and come crawling back. Becky Blackbell, after all, was used to nothing but the finest, and there was simply no way that her meagre paycheck could sustain even a fraction of that lifestyle no matter how much Bill could supplement it with his own money.

And there was a moment (brief yet fierce) where her soul did quail, and a small voice whispered that a simple phone call would make it all go away. She could be back home in her huge, luxurious bed before midnight, snuggled up and safe with all the Blackbell fortune like an invisible wall behind her...

But she would be alone in that bed, and no fortune, however large, could replace the strength and security of Bill's arms.

Becky swallowed down the fear and uncertainty and firmed her resolve once more. She would just have to work harder, or even get a second job, whatever it took to make it work. She was sure that plenty of people had survived on less than this, and besides, once she was graduated and had her degree, why, she could earn even more! There was nothing saying she had to work at grocery stores for the rest of her life! And Bill's career in the Army was also pretty much guaranteed, so really, there was no reason to buckle now! They were just getting started!

And they would stay together. That was what really mattered to her.

Of course, they would have to tighten their purse strings a bit... maybe she could forego her morning coffee to save some money...

She mopped the store as quickly as she could, plans and budgets spinning in her mind while she worked, and by the time she stepped outside she was full of her usual cheerfulness again.

That cheerfulness only doubled - no, quadrupled - when she saw who was waiting for her.

"Darling!" she cried out happily as she took a running leap into Bill's arms. He caught her easily and she reveled in how tightly and happily he held her. How could she have thought, for even a moment, that she could survive without him?

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiled as he held her with her feet dangling off the ground. "How was work?"

"Horrible," she said with a smile, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Have you come to take me home?"

"Of course, you know I don't like you wandering around by yourself at night." He looked stern and protective and Becky felt her heart melt just a little.

"You're so sweet," she sighed. She squirmed to be put down. "Let's go home."

Bill did not let her go, though. "Actually..."

"What is it?"

"Well... your dad called."

Becky stiffened. "Oh?" The last time she and her father had spoken had been the day of their blow out fight, and she didn't like to remember it if she could help it.

Bill's expression gave nothing away. "Yeah. He wanted to talk to me, actually."

Now Becky was really alarmed. She knew her father had nothing against Bill in particular, had even been happy when the two of them had started dating, but still. He had also been adamant that only a wedding ring would allow Becky to live with a man, and as she and Bill were still only "engaged to be engaged," she didn't think her father had called to chat with Bill about the weather.

A horrible idea came to her.

"How much did he offer you?" she snarled. Bill looked taken aback behind his glasses.

"What?"

"To give me up. How much? One million dalc? Two million?"

"Becky, that's--"

"Don't tell me he offered less?" Now she was really outraged. "Oooh! Put me down! I'm going to march straight to his office and tell him just where he can put his bribe money!"

She fought her way back down to the pavement and Bill lowered her, but he kept his hands around her arms to keep her from storming off.

"Listen!" he insisted over her ranting, and she huffed into silence. "He didn't offer me anything."

"So he threatened you instead?!" If Becky had had fangs, they would have been out. How dare her father even think--

"No," Bill said pointedly. "He called because he wanted to talk about you and me -- not like that! Listen, sweetheart! -- he wanted to make sure my intentions are pure and honorable, basically. And he wanted to know how you're doing. He's really worried about you, Becky. When I told him you were working overtime at a grocery store, I think he just about fainted."

"Well, he probably thought I'd come home by now," she allowed as she crossed her arms. "But the only home I want is with you, so the sooner he realizes that, the better."

"I think... I think he realizes that now," Bill replied hesitantly. "I told him the truth: we are definitely getting married and I'm absolutely serious about our future together no matter what. And he knows you're serious, now, too. So, he wants to come over tomorrow to talk it over with us, and maybe he'll give us living together his blessing after all."

"I don't need his blessing," Becky retorted, then softened. "But it would be nice to have."

Bill gathered her close again. "I know how much it means to you to be on good terms with your father, sweetheart. And who knows? Maybe if he gives us his blessing he'll give you access to the family bank account again."

Becky pulled back to insist once again that she didn't care about the money, but she saw the twinkle in Bill's eyes and knew he was joking. She batted at his chest ineffectually.

"Even if he did I certainly wouldn't spend like I used to! Did you know, things cost actual money? Like real, tangible sums?" She looked up at Bill and saw him stifling back laughter. She pouted.

"I mean it! I worked my butt off all week, and the paycheck barely covers our food bill! I tell you, when we get home we are going to have to make some changes."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Becky Blackbell?" Bill laughed tenderly, and then tugged her close as they turned and walked towards home.

--------

Well, this certainly spiraled out of control! I do like the idea of Becky working some crappy job and realizing, oh my gosh, this is how normal people have to live every day. How does anyone do it???

Of course, Bill's money is probably more than enough for them to get by, but it would still be finite and so horrible customer service job for Becky AU is born!

Lol, thanks for the idea, Anon! :D

#becky blackbell #bill watkins #bb gun #BBGun #Becky/Bill #spy x family #drabble #my fic

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ccbunnv · 2 months

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Okii soooo— Villain!Bill x male or Gn reader who got sick with a REALLY bad fever an they are lightheaded and their like freezing and shaking sm tho their v overheated?? I just got a fever and that’s what’s going on with me rn😭😭

KKSKSKS TYSMMM IM SO IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING 🥳

i have a lot of reqs but i thought i'd do urs first since ur sick n all,, rest well n hydrate pookie !

˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 villain! bill x m! reader fluff

the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the news broadcast was blaring about your boyfriend's newest achievement in somehow managing to flatten another city.

you were stuck under the sheets in writhing agony. your nose was clogged, your throat was sore, and you felt like venus in terms of temperature on the outside and uranus on the inside.

you had one of those fever patches stuck onto your forehead and you were covered in layers after layers of blankets, and you were still wearing your pyjamas due to your lack of energy.

if you even tried to turn your body, your limbs would ache like they had just been stabbed with a paper multiple times. it took you 30 minutes to even shimmy your way to the kitchen to grab the fever patch from the fridge and a glass of water.

not to mention, you hated blinking because the inside of your eyes somehow managed to feel like they're on fire.

"darling? I'm home." your boyfriend calls out as he steps into the apartment, holding a paper bag full of groceries.

his boots click down the hallway after he set the paper bag onto the kitchen counter. he stops in front of you and his shared room and slowly, he creaked the door open, letting light spill into the dark trenches of the room.

"hon? is everything okay?" he asks, walking over to you and sitting on the bed next to you.

"I don't know," you croaked out, your voice sounding like you had the sahara desert in your throat, "I think I'm sick."

"oh, dear..." he slowly pulled the blankets down and pressed the back of his hand against your neck to test your temperature. he winced when all he felt was something akin to boiling hot lava on your skin, and he said, "yeah you're definitely sick."

you were a little upset when he pulled his hand away. you missed the coldness of his skin.

"fuck," you grumbled, "sorry, Bill..."

"what are you sorry for?" he asked, smiling apologetically.

"for our date tomorrow." you sighed.

"oh, honey, you don't have to worry about that." he replied, "we can always reschedule."

he kissed your forehead and said softly, "you rest. I'll go cook something up for you and I think we have some paracetamol left in the restroom."

"okay..." you choked out, and he left the room.

you shut your eyes, trying to sleep, hoping that when you woke up, it'll be all better.

𓆩♱𓆪

that was proven hella wrong. when you woke up, your fever just came back in full force. you were sneezing like crazy, one nostril was blocked and the other was leaking, you were shivering and the blanket made you feel like you were about to get a first degree burn.

Bill came into your room soon with a tray of warm chicken soup, and some paracetamol with warm water. he placed the tray on the nightstand next to you and said, "take the pill first."

you took it as he said, and swallowed it down with the warm water. then, you took the tray of warm chicken soup and though you couldn't smell anything, you still ate it.

though it tasted bland, you could feel better, just by a little bit. once you finished the soup, he took the tray and left the room.

you slowly scooted back into bed with the amount of strength left in your limbs, and returned to sleeping.

you heard the door creak open and someone step in, before taking a seat next to you, but you didn't have the energy to check.

before you fell asleep, you heard,

"get well soon, liebling."

and a cool kiss against your sweaty temple.

#tokio hotel #y2k #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #fluff #bill kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel x reader

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writingcold · 5 months

Text

Welcome to Chapter Thirteen and Epilogue of Best Laid Plans

A/N: We made it. The finish. We have a few more hoops to pass through to get to our happy ending - but there will be a very happy ending.

This is a complete fiction - totally made up. I do not, nor will I ever know Jake or any member of GVF. That said, this story is mine. Please respect that.

A huge round of applause for the ever lovely, ever gorgeous @takenbythemadness for all of her help and patience with this one. Love you, my friend.

Content warnings: Language. Angst, arguing. Self doubt/self hate. Lack of confidence. Alcohol. And more of a heads up than a warning - there is a little switch up in the Epilogue to a reader insert pov.

Word count: approx. 8700

Chapter 13: October 1992: Amanda POV

I was relishing the quiet of my Sunday morning. It had been a week since the Fall Festival and we were still getting back into shape after everything, but it certainly was a success. I put on some Handel to soothe the nerves as I sat down at my table with coffee in one hand and my journal in the other. I started journaling once again. It’d only been a few days, but after the revelation the prior Sunday, I just knew - I needed to put down thoughts that had been bottled up and kept me from moving on. I had just gotten these cool, leather bound journals that were carved with dragons, flowers and fairies for the shop. I picked one with an imprint of a moon. Yeah. You get it.

I had just lifted up my pen when there was a knock on my door. To say I was surprised to find Jake standing there with pastries from Blaine’s would be an understatement. His eyes looked exhausted, with black smudges beneath them like he hadn’t slept in days. But his lack of smile caught me off guard. As he sat down and I put a mug of coffee before him, I realized the air was heavy between us. I cleared the table before setting down plates and napkins, like I was intentionally being busy to keep us from talking.

“I, uh,” I started as he fiddled with the handle of his coffee mug, only to stop when he brought up his destroyed gaze to meet my own. I nearly bit through my lip in my effort to retreat from him. My brain literally went the only route I knew that may be safe. “Jeanette must be on at the hospital-”

“Stop,” he whispered.

The abruptness cut me. I fell back to quietly sipping at my coffee, eyeing up the corner of the table closest to me. There had been a change. It was still too early to know if it was good or bad. Whichever it may be, I felt my gut twist with an anxiousness that I did not want to feel.

He rubbed his hands together before coming to rest his elbows on the table and fingers pressed into his forehead. “I’m, uh, going to go for a while.”

I could not hide my confusion. “You okay, Jake?”

“Honestly? No,” he huffed with his palms pressed into his eyes. I watched as his chest pumped air in and out before he settled back in the chair. “I just need to be out of here for a few weeks.”

“Where do you plan on going?” I asked, intentionally keeping my tone soft.

“New Mexico,” he answered.

“What the fuck is there?” The words flew out before I could stop. His eyes flared open with a bit of humor before he blew out a breath. “Sorry. Just…”

“Mountains and desert. I just need something so opposite of here that I figured New Mexico would fit that bill,” he explained with a nod.

“Something happen with Jeanette?” I asked carefully.

He nodded slowly. “We parted as friends.”

“Oh.” I took a swallow of coffee that stuck in my throat like a half molten rock. The scalding shred of my gasp brought his attention to me as I started to sputter. I could feel the embarrassment tinge my cheeks scarlet.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he muttered with a grin, pushing a napkin in my direction.

I laughed, which of course only made it worse. I stumbled to my feet and reached for a glass for water. With my back to him, I realized the significance of him being here. He was no longer with Jeanette. He was not upset because of it. I sipped slowly to cool my nerves and slow myself as I returned to the table.

“Better?” he asked, shooting me a sideways grin. I could only nod before he continued. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh, while you're gone? Water your nonexistent houseplants?” I asked, trying to keep my words light. “Or something with Martin’s? I can replace a spit valve on a trombone like nobody’s business.”

“I need you to let me go,” he said quietly.

“You don’t need anyone’s permission to go to New Mexico.”

His eyes drifted closed. “Not what I mean, Mandy.”

Jake's tone made me roll my lips in between my teeth. “Okay. Tell me what you mean then.”

He wiped at his nose before turning his eyes to meet mine in a steady gaze. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you forever.” His mouth stilled and his gaze fell away as he swallowed hard. “I came upon the truth that I covet you. Jeanette asked if she was a placeholder. I didn’t understand at first. I didn’t even realize I made her feel that way. It was horrible. She did not deserve to feel that way. But she was right. I’ve been waiting. But I’m not the only one.”

The air turned sharp. I wrapped my hands around my mug in search of something warm. When I started to open my mouth to speak he shook his head.

“I realized last night that I cannot continue this. I cannot feel like…” He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “That’s not right. It’s not coming out right.”

My eyes fell to my fingers. My feet started to brush across the floor. “Jake?”

“You never got angry with me. I guess I never gave you the chance to. I just told you about Georgia and I left like a fucking coward.” He cleared his throat nervously.

“Jake, we don’t have to-”

He slapped his hand down. The crack made me sit up straight. His face grew hard as he leaned into the table. “Yeah. Yes, we need to talk about this because this is everything - everything that is standing in the way.”

Against my better judgment, I jumped up from the table and started to move away. “Fuck that. We can’t change what happened. It’s done.”

It was like all the trust that he had rebuilt in me, all the time that had passed fell away in one long swipe. My heart thundered in my chest and I couldn’t even tell you why. Perhaps it was because I knew to this day, I did not acknowledge his fault in this situation. He… Jake… He put something into me that made me have doubts in this world. I did not need this pain. I did not want to face this pain. I did not need to feel this pain.

“Amanda, stop.” The sound of his chair scraping against the floor turned my stomach sour. He moved before me, his body solid. Real. “We need to talk about this because it ruined everything.”

“YOU!” I belted out before I could stop it. “You ruined it, Jake!”

Oh my. Where the hell did all of this come from? How could a wound that happened years before still feel fresh. I clutched at my chest like I had that day, as if his words were new, but instead of being so damned surprised, I knew what it all meant. I knew that this wound had been allowed to become infected and blistered and blackened.

“Liam was not my child,” he whispered, his eyes welling with tears. “I’m sure you surmised that on your own, though.”

My jaw dropped as I emitted a sound that made me sound like I was incredulous. But that was not the case. Never had I thought that Liam was not Jake’s son. Never had I thought that Georgia had not been truthful.

He was shaking his head. “He’s still my son. I love him so much, Mandy. He was so innocent. So perfect. But he was not me. Not biologically.”

My heart broke at the sight of his struggle. I felt my spirit settle into a calm that was the direct opposite of how my body trembled. Every ounce of my flesh wanted to bolt and not turn back. However, every inch of my soul wanted to reach out in comfort and love.

“Georgia came to me a few years back,” he continued, wiping at his eyes. The tip of his tongue pressed against the corner of his mouth like he was fighting to keep the words from coming out. He let out a stuttered breath as his hand combed through his hair. “She lied about everything. I had believed that I had broken your trust. That I had slept with her-”

“Oh my fucking god!” I shouted at him like an idiot. My hands were in the air. My face was twisted with heat. My sight was white with absolute rage. It was like he was clawing at the wound to make it bigger, making me bleed out all the faster. I tried to move away from him, but it just seemed like I couldn’t even force myself to budge.

“She made me believe that I was bad,” he whispered. “She would throw it in my face any time she knew you would be home for a stretch where there was a chance of me seeing you. I didn’t understand it. Not until after she told me everything. She knew. She knew that I would shelter her if I thought Liam was mine. She knew that I would step away from you if I just believed her. I was so panicked that I thought I was doing the right thing all along. She used my naivety against me and used it frequently to keep me with her.”

His words struck my surface with feather light brutality towards himself. They were slow to penetrate and sink through the layers of my dermis to strike my spirit in a way that was meaningful. “I do not believe with all that is of me, that Jake betrayed me. It is just not in him to be so reckless, so thoughtless of what we had as to be with another woman. I don’t care if he was drunk. I just cannot believe he could be so not loyal to us.” My own words roared back against me and I gasped in surprise. He had been loyal. He had been faithful. The wrong was never his own. Not fully.

“I allowed a lie to be my guide, Amanda,” he said, his face downcast, his voice ruined with emotion. “I was stupid enough to believe it. I was stupid enough to allow her to take advantage of me. I’m so, so sorry. In the end, I still did this to us. I allowed it to happen because I didn’t think enough of myself to believe I had done otherwise. I broke our plan.”

My rage blinded my cooler thoughts. I doubled over with my arms wrapped across my stomach. “Fuck the goddamned plan! She ruined more than just a goddamned plan!”

He inhaled sharply. It was like he wanted my anger to wash over him; cleanse him. He set his jaw, but his eyes were full of such sorrow that I swear I could feel the shattering beneath my feet. My world was about to change once more. It would break apart and wait for me to try to glue it back together again.

“Well, this isn’t where I expected this conversation to take us,” I seethed, unable to stop the fury that bubbled through my throat.

He nodded as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. It was then that I realized he wore no jacket, no flannel. He wore old, holey jeans and a plain white tee, and a set of ancient vans that I could not see how they kept together. His face was unshaven and his tired eyes were now beyond destroyed, red rimmed and sore looking. I was no better, I’m sure. I stopped as his previous words finally wrapped back around to me.

“What do you mean I have to let you go?” I said, unable to say all the words without hiccuping across many of them.

“It was my choice to leave you behind. My choice to face what I thought I needed to do,” he said, fresh tears beading up at the corners of his eyes. “I kept this idea that sooner or later we would be together again. And then…”

I knew where he was taking me next. “That was my need. My choice, Jacob.”

The deep blush across his chest as the shared memory of those precious few days flashed so very clearly. I bit into the inside of my cheek. I refused to be angry about that time. I was desperate and I could swallow that my infidelity was my sin. My own fracture of what I knew was good and holy. It was so easy to be unfaithful when I knew that Roger had broken vows first. I had wondered, often, during the divorce if I could've allowed myself to have loved Jake the way I did if I had not known about Roger’s infidelity. Once I knew he had broken his vows, it was like I was no longer married to him in my heart. In reality, I wanted to make him hurt as much as he had hurt me, twisted me and shamed me for being lonely. That was his play - keep me deprived to keep me believing that our marriage was real. I pushed my hands across my hair as I turned away from him.

“I will not apologize for what I have done,” I said sharply. “You gave me something that I needed desperately. You extended to me kindness when I most needed it. And it was my choice to walk away when I did. I had to walk away to protect us both.”

He sat down like he would've fallen down had he not. “And this whole time, no matter what, I have felt like you were coming back around to me. Like you knew that I was waiting.”

“Waiting? You weren’t waiting for me.”

His eyes pinched hard until they closed.

“How were you waiting for me? You had Jeanette this whole time. I thought you loved -”

I stopped. Goddamn, I was dense. What he said to start this argument clicked into place.

“You would’ve hurt her if I asked you to,” I said quietly, my eyes closed against him.

“I would’ve hurt anyone I was with if you would’ve said the words,” he answered plainly.

“Damn it,” I sighed as the fight leaked out of my bones.

“I know you feel it, Mandy,” he said, his tongue thick against his voice. “Everytime I’m near you, I can’t fight the pull you have across me. It’s only gotten stronger over the past few months. And I’m telling you, I cannot do this anymore. I can’t stand here and wait without knowing that you are working your way back to me. I need you to let me go. Tell me to fuck off. Tell me that I need to get my head out of my ass and forget it. Forget us.”

“And if I don't want to?” I asked, feeling my mouth tremble across the thought.

His face erupted in a wave of emotions that I could only pinpoint as being in pain. I was holding him in a spot that was not fair to him. But my stupid heart began to pound fear into my system. If I let him go, would he be back? I drew in a tattered breath that barely soothed my aching lungs.

“I don’t want you to go, Jake,” I said finally.

He let out a sob that was mixed with joy and sorrow, mixed with all of his emotions in between. “Please, Amanda. I need it. We need this. How this is - right now - this is not it. Not how it should be.”

“I’m scared.”

The way his lips curled downwards broke the last shreds of my resolve. He held up one hand for me to take and I jumped at the chance to touch him. He pulled me in and I was instantly overcome by him - the scent of his fresh washed t-shirt, the smell of his skin and the soldiness of his body. I did not hide my tears or my fear. I pressed my lips to his, nearly whining over the familiar that I had so desperately needed for so long. His hands wrapped around me as he deepened the kiss in a way that sent shockwaves across my skin. I traced the ridge of his cheek bone as he pulled away. The way the light draped itself across him made my heart swell all the more.

“I love you,” I whispered as he cupped my cheek. Our hearts were breaking in unison. I could feel it. “I’ve only ever loved you. I wish it was enough. I wish I was enough.”

He cursed quietly as he brought his forehead down against my temple. “Thank you.”

I am not sure if I saw him leave. I know I stumbled to the couch and lay down. The CD that I had been playing, repeated and I’m not sure how many times either. I stared at the edge of the coffee table until my vision blurred and I drifted on a sea of thoughts and memories and heartache and hurt. Somehow, it was five a.m. and I needed to get my ass moving. Somehow, I put myself through a shower and got to work. Thankfully, Mick and Robin were quiet and the day progressed without drama. Lord knows, I had enough of that shit in spades.

I had no way of knowing how Jake was going on his trip - car, plane, train, bus. I had no idea if he was safe. I had no idea if he arrived wherever in New Mexico he was going. It tore at my thoughts and chewed at my insides. Day four I discovered something - I had gotten too good at hiding the depth of what I was actually living with. Those around me had no clue I was struggling as badly as I was without Jake near. But that was the issue, wasn’t it? Jake being my fuel. Me needing Jake to be my air.

What was supposed to be two weeks, turned into three. Normally, time zipped by in a flurry of work and life. These three weeks, however, moved like wet concrete in January. Time has never moved like that for me. Ever. Not the days after he had left me the first time. Not during the long hours of when I was alone during my marriage, or how I was strung along during my divorce. Jake had been close through most of that. I watched the first snowflakes come and turn to rain and return to ice crystals again.

The in-between times caught me gaining strength. I was able to breathe. I was able to find warmth and a smile that was easy. I wondered if Jake was the same. Were we going to be okay? Were we going to find our way back to each other was not the focus. I was finding my feet on my own. I was mending wounds that Jake had inflicted. I could feel the strength that was my own begin to return. My world did not revolve around him; did not need to be only him. I had self-worth to bring back to the table. I had a ‘me’ to bring to any form of relationship. I could sit with him as an equal once more and be able to offer myself instead of just taking what I need. I had survived for so long on my own. I was not the girl I was when he first loved me. I was not the woman at the bottom of her barrel when he loved me again. I was renewed in my own form, just as he was.

Day thirteen brought me to a morning of silence. It was dark outside still when my eyes fluttered open from slumber. Just the soft amber light of the street lamps glowed in the haze of pre-dawn. I breathed in a few times, just feeling the softness of my sheets and blanket around me while the cold air of the apartment touched at the tip of my nose and ears. It was when I realized that I forgave him. I accepted that he had been fooled into thinking the worst of himself. I could only imagine what that had been like for him - he had tried so very hard to be a good man. To know that he had been manipulated to control him crushed me. It crushed me that Georgia saw his goodness and turned it into a weapon. But I forgave him. He only followed the purity that had been within him to do what was right. Perhaps fate put him there to do good for her. Too bad it was a ‘good’ that she in the end, did not grow from.

“I forgive you, Jacob,” I whispered into the void, not that I expected him to hear, or that the universe would instantly make him appear at my doorstep with flowers and joy. I said it for myself. I felt the rubber cement and sticky tape that I had been binding my wounds for so long fall away. Instead of bleeding out like I had been afraid to do for all that time, I stood whole. It was the best feeling I had ever had. I had returned to being just me.

Midday at the shop was quiet. The poetry group had come and gone and I had deposited the leftovers at Martin’s. (A secret: I always made sure I had extras so as to take next door for Meg and Bugger. Always.) I waved at Mr. Henry who was in the middle of a lesson on the piano. I was in mid-sentence when Robin ran through the door to fetch me. My stomach lurched as I bumbled behind. My hands were shaking when I reached for the waiting phone behind the counter. My voice was trembling when I asked Mom what was wrong…

Jake POV

I took the bus down to Albuquerque. I wanted to watch the land roll by, shifting from farms and woods to fractured, dry scrap, to angry uplifting of mountains and hard, dehydrated desert. The dry air was stabbing my body, robbing it of every drop of moisture as I stepped off the bus at the station and found a cab to get to my motel. Lord, it was a shit hole. But such as it was, I collapsed into the bed after an inspection made me realize that indeed, the sheets were clean.

When I woke, it was to the hardscrabble of the high desert and the Sandia mountains. The fresh sunlight washed across the peaks in a way that made me stare like it was the first time I had ever watched a sunrise. I shivered in the morning air, the iciness surprising me, but it felt good. It felt different from home.

I had paid for an extended camping/hiking tour because lord knows, I was not stupid enough to go alone. I rented a car to carry me up the mountain to the arranged meeting at the trailhead and I was on my way. Evan, the guide on the tour, took eight of us out for a four day journey deep into the landscape and it was amazing. I trailed behind for much of it, seeking more solitude for pieces of beauty that I wanted to digest and feel on my own. By the last day, I was not wanting to leave. I had fallen in love with the land. I had fallen in love that I had found within myself the strength to force myself forward and through the syrup that had engulfed me in regards to Amanda Fischer.

When I returned to my crappy motel room, I cleaned up, rubbed my aching muscles and I think I slept for nearly twenty four hours. It was glorious to feel the scratchy sheets and questionable pillow surrounding me in such a foreign way. I could hear the stirrings of life outside the tiny, smelly room. People waking. People fighting. People fucking. And I smiled.

I wandered through bars and salsa clubs, absorbing the music, observing those around me. I was even pulled to the dancefloor for a disastrous turn of salsa. Yeah, this Midwestern boy’s hips do not swivel like that. But she was lovely in trying to help me through it. I returned to the motel and as I put my wallet on the nightstand I debated with myself if I should call home - let them know I was fine. But that was a lie. I didn’t want to call my parents. I wanted to talk to Mandy. I wanted to hear her voice.

When Georgia told me that I had never slept with her in the first place, it was a sucker punch to my entire self. She picked me because I had been in love. She picked me because I was so unaware of anything but that love. She took my goodness, my idea of what being a good man was, and used it as her shelter. I suppose what my father had said after we lost Liam took on a whole new meaning: I was meant to hold Georgia through an incredibly difficult time and share the grief of a dream that was never to be. Though she went about it in every way that was wrong, she needed someone to extend her kindness. Love. I did love her. I grew to it slowly, but I did. Was it the innocent love that I harbored for Mandy before my marriage - no. I guess that was what made it all feel worse in the end. It was something for Georgia to harvest and control.

What I did to Jeanette was due to my own self imposed ignorance. I could be an ass and say that none of what she felt was true. I was present for the entirety of our relationship. I could point out that I was following her lead and keeping things casual. But that’s not true. I was forcing them to stay casual because I could not get over my arrogant ass and stop myself from expecting Mandy to heal up right quick after the divorce and fall back to me. Jeanette was an amazing woman that I short changed. For us to find each other and heal together was something that should have been celebrated. For us to part as friends is a show of how strong the woman’s grace actually was for me.

I spent time in Santa Fe and drove through the Jemez mountains. I gave myself the gift of just being alone. And I relished it. So much so that I called Henry and asked if he would be willing to cover me for another week. He must have heard my need. Must have heard my strength returning. Although he mumbled about how Ada was going to kick his ass, he agreed without any convincing. I knew it would hit my credit card, but I would sort that out later. I wanted to glut myself on margaritas, beer and amazing food a little while longer. I wanted to hike and stare at the mountains out the grimy window of my shitty assed motel room. I wanted to watch people dance and listen to the music and watch street mariachi and… Do it alone.

I changed while I was there in the desert. I forgave myself for the man that I had been - naive. I forgave myself for the man that I had been recently - arrogant. I thought of my son. I would never have been blessed to love him if I had not been the man that I had been with Georgia. I wondered if I would ever have a child to take hiking. The selfish part of my brain pointed out that Mandy could not have children. I told it to fuck all the way off. I had already proven to myself that I could love - be a father - to a child that was not my own. That was good. Liam had shown me so much, taught me so much, in the few hours of his presence. It was long enough for him to invade my soul and reside in my skin. Every waking moment I think of how he would fit in, how he would see the world around us.

The bus ride home was full of stillness. I traveled back across desert and mountains, the incredibly boring flats of the panhandle and Oklahoma, the endlessness of Texas, the fractured plains of Kansas and finally back into the wooded farmland that was close to home. Dad came to pick me up from the bus depot in Detroit. We had coffee in a diner before stopping off in a guitar shop for a few hours of lost time. He laughed as I out-riffed him on a pretty cherry red SG. Our drive to Frankenmuth was full of conversation that left me spilling out my guts and him just listening.

We got home just after dark and Mom had a casserole ready for us. Before walking inside, he smiled at me as I got my bag from the trunk.

“I’m proud of the man you are, Jacob,” he said plainly.

He held me tight for a long moment before dragging me inside for supper. Getting home and looking around the tiny rooms of my house warmed me through despite the freezing temps outside. Dad had swung by to make sure my heat was on and the mail was on my table. I would have to buy that man a drink to call it square.

To lay down in my own bed brought me all the way back to the moment at hand. I was ready to return to what was ahead of me. I was ready to accept whatever lay before me - be it with Mandy in friendship, or more.

I returned to work to find that it was just as I left it. I had brought Henry back a guitar that I’m sure Ada would huff about, but it was a really pretty guitar. I was digging out my desk when Meg popped her head in with a hello. We were slow to catch up, sipping coffee and she filled me in on the happenings up and down the street including news about Mandy’s dad. I grimaced.

“Heart attack,” she explained. “Mandy was in yesterday with treats from the book club. Said he was getting out today.”

I shook my head as the situation filtered through. Henry showed up with a smile and wanting to help out on the day to “ease” me back into it. I did not turn him down. I may have peeked next door to see if Mandy was there, but just waved when I saw Mick behind the counter and Robin in the front window talking with a customer. I spent the rest of the day buried in bills and invoices. At closing, Henry tucked in with an invitation for a beer at Miller’s. How could I refuse?

There was already a large crowd inside when we stepped in. The Pretenders’ “Brass in Pocket” was playing loudly. The song brought a smile to my lips. It had been a long time since I heard one of Mandy’s favorites. Henry found a booth while I got us a pitcher. The jukebox rolled into another one of her favorites, Joe Cocker’s “Black-Eyed Blues”, swooned through the speakers. I started looking around to see who this crowd actually entailed, but didn’t really recognize anyone.

“What’s buzzing you, Jake? For a man that just got back from vacation - extended vacation - you’re being a jumpy little shit,” he laughed as he raised his mug to who I supposed was myself.

“Vacation, huh? Is that what I was doing?” I quipped as I took a long pull of lite amber colored water. My lip curled in jest. “Just had a lot to figure out, Henry.”

“And did you figure it out, Jacob?” he asked as his eyes trained back over my shoulder.

He grinned and waved at someone. I glanced around to see who it was, thinking it was a customer or maybe a friend but couldn’t see who it was that had captured his gaze. We chatted about the shop, and he listed everything that he tried to ‘fix’ but wound up leaving it to the boss since you know - that was me. And then it hit - a memory as Queen’s “Love of My Life” started.

We were listening to records a few days before we parted for school for the fall term. We were dancing and singing, making love and just being us, when I put this record on. She giggled as she was putting on my t-shirt before flopping back on my bed.

“It sounds like a school concert at the start, don’t you think?” she teased as I crooned on, feeling far from foolish. “Like, could you just imagine Mrs. Walker pounding out that on her piano while the little kids are just singing along?”

I pretended to be wounded but continued to sing on. I wanted her to hear me. I had known that I just wanted to love her forever and in my young man folly, I had no idea what was around the corner.

This time, I stood up, looking around because three important songs to us just didn’t just happen. It was like someone was looking into my brain and pulling out some of the sweetest, most dear memories and laying them bare for anyone and everyone to see.

“What’s wrong, Jake?” Henry asked, his warm smile betraying the situation.

“Henry, what the actual fuck is going on?” I asked, trying to look for anything familiar in the murk of the bar.

And that’s when I saw her, close to the pool table buried behind a table filled with her family. Jenni was animatedly talking over everyone while she just sat there, eyes on me. I froze to the spot immediately. She was the most beautiful thing I had seen. The way the corner of her mouth tugged just a hair into the hint of a grin sent my blood racing. Next to her, sat her dad, quiet and still, just soaking up his family. Joni Mitchell’s “A Case of You” made her eyes fucking twinkle as her gaze stayed steady on me. I sucked in a breath as I had to hold the table to steady myself. She had sung me that song so many times as we lazed around, touching, laughing. My heart felt like it was quivering in my chest while all I could do was release a soft breath.

“Damn man,” Henry chuckled. “I’d say go talk to the girl.”

I looked down at him. “Did you know she would be here?”

“Maybe.”

It was the only answer that he gave me. Instead of watching me fumble the ball like I was doing, he stood up, patted me on the shoulder and said his goodnight. I watched as she crossed the floor, four empty pitchers in between her fingers as she threaded her way towards the bar. I reached for my beer and sipped gauging my next step. She looked back at me, her eyes full of… a smile. It was my smile. My heart melted a bit. It was my Amanda that was walking towards me with two glasses in her hands.

“Hey, Jake, right?” she asked, her lips parted in a knowing smile as she held out a whiskey neat.

I groaned and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Mandy, right?”

Epilogue - The Wrap: August, 2003 - reader insert pov

“AMANDA!” Jake yells with his chin pointed up towards the ceiling so that she could hear him through the floor of the second story. “What the hell is this?”

He’s looking directly at you - all of you huddled in his living room. There’s a few shuffled feet, a few nervous giggles as he looks at you expectantly like any one of you has answers as to why you are in his home. The house is large with a huge array of toys, books and instruments for little kids, big kids, teens that are everywhere. The home is comfortable, in that large family kind of way where things are squished down on the couch and carpeting, and the pictures are so cluttered that one has to walk directly up to them to be able to see what the hell is being featured. The air is filled with life and the smell of cookies and dinner in the oven. You find a spot on the heavy rug to sit down, waiting for the ‘talk’ that is to come.

“OH!” Mandy gasps out as her feet are carrying her down the stairs. “Jake - don’t you remember - I told you about this.”

“You said ‘book club’, I stopped listening,” he huffs, eyes drifting over the whole crowd with apprehension. “I thought you meant Mrs. Warner and her interesting takes on romance novels.”

“No. Not exactly,” she sighs as she drifts back into the kitchen to retrieve a tray that is ladened with cookies and goodies. “Grab the big pitchers will you?”

“Why do we have eight pitchers of – whatever this stuff is?” Jake calls out from the depth of the kitchen.

“So we have a variety - mojitos, margaritas, and sangria,” Mandy says with a cheeky smile and a wink. “And for anyone who just wants a beer, I do have that. Or there’s water, ice tea and coffee is brewing as we speak.”

Jake comes in with the first pitchers. “Jesus - are you planning on sending everyone home toasted?”

There’s a collective laugh that ripples through the room. You feel your cheeks warm just a bit as Jake reacts to hearing the laughter, his eyes glinting and mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He shifts around the hem of his shirt as he turns to head back to the kitchen. Mandy reappears with a whole host of glasses, napkins and cutlery on another tray. Her smile is huge and full of anticipation. It’s hard not to be caught up in her energy. A few of the other participants pop up and start helping to pass out preferred beverages. You find yourself walking around with bags of popcorn and other goodies to share. There’s a shared atmosphere of happiness that can not be hidden. Mandy, very graciously, accepts the aid and starts bringing in the huge coffee percolator and Jake follows with styrofoam cups, cream and sugar. He turns his eyes to the wall as if he could see and hear what is going on outside. You realize his Dad radar has been activated as he quickly heads back to the kitchen and you hear an exterior door open and close.

For the briefest of moments, you hear Dad Jake unleash the power of his dad voice. There are a few of you that side eye each other with a bit of a rub between the knees. You know who you are. Once everyone is settled back with treats and libations, Mandy returns to move around a few chairs, notably to have her and Jake in the fore so as to best answer your most pressing questions. Jake returns to find his wife just beaming with a glass of sangria balancing on the ridge of her denim clad thigh. He pauses for a beat before disappearing back to the kitchen with a grumble about ‘don’t worry - I can get my own damn beer’. You join in the soft laughter that bubbles up from the group.

“All right,” he huffs as he sits and gets comfortable before cracking open his beer. “What am I here for?”

“Well, all of these lovely people have taken the time to write down some questions for us to answer -”

“Why did they do that? We’re not that interesting,” he mutters, casting a wary eye across the group.

Mandy flashes a knowing smile out to all of you. “Just roll with it, babe.”

“Roll with it,” he sighs before taking a sip from his can. “I guess I can do that.”

She produces a small notebook and sets her glass down after taking a hearty sip with a flair of drama. “Okay, let’s see what’s our first question… Oh.”

You all giggle as you see the pink blush cross the ridge of her cheeks. Her eyes flip up to meet yours before flicking over to Jake’s.

“That can’t be good,” he mumbles, reaching across her to look at the notebook. There’s a ripple of nervous laughter that rolls over the group at the sight of Jake’s blush that starts at his cheeks and blooms downward towards the top of his t-shirt collar. “Really? Who the hell asked that question?”

Mandy clears her throat and shifts a bit. “So you want to know what happened after we said ‘hi’ at Miller’s? We uh… well. We danced a bit. Played a bit of pool. Yeah. Yup. We did that.”

“Are they really wanting to know exactly what happened that night?” Jake asks, his eyes widening with a whole new gleam dancing across the iris of his eyes.

You all nod your heads as a few let loose “Yes - yes we do.”

Mandy rolls her lips in between her teeth as Jake shifts about. You all get the drift, but love watching them squirm. One of you gets brave and says, “You had mind numbingly amazing sex that lasted more than a week. Got it. Mrs. Warner would be so proud.”

Everyone laughs as Jake blanches. Every note of color washes out of his face like a tide. Which of course, makes the situation all the funnier. Even Mandy, with one hand on his knee, is doubled over laughing.

Jake swipes the notebook in an effort to keep this show on the road. He clears his throat while playfully glaring at Mandy before casting his eyes down on the paper. “Next question: how did you propose? Well that’s simple. After the weeklong, mind numbing fabulous sex that Mrs. Warner would have wished to have read about, I asked her and she said…”

“No. I said no,” Mandy laughed as he slid his hand into hers, threading their fingers together tightly.

“What the hell? Why would you do that?” someone in the group blurts out.

She shrugs with a glance at Jake. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel right, I guess. But, as you can see - we did get married. I asked him about a month later. He made this beautiful dinner, and there was an Otis Redding album on. It just felt right so I asked.”

“I made her get down on one knee and everything,” Jake laughed before he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “What she didn’t know, I had a ring in my back pocket ready to do the same thing. So, she put her ring on my finger when I said yes.”

There is a collective sigh that ripples through the room. Jake flashes a tight little smile like he wasn’t getting caught up in the feels, instead taking a sip of his beer and setting the can to the side. Mandy laughs as she rescues the notebook and looks at the next question.

“The wedding. Yeah,” she is nodding as her eyes roll up to the ceiling. “So I had this stupid huge wedding when I married Roger. Jake pretty much eloped when he married Georgia. With that in mind, we decided to shoot for something in between. I mean, we wound up buying this house - my parent’s house before the wedding. We got married in the backyard and had a whole house full of family and friends. It was so beautiful. Perfect.”

Jake is rubbing at the back of his neck as the group shifts around expecting him to talk. When it becomes obvious that he was going to trust that Mandy’s answer was sufficient, he suddenly gets interested in the label on his beer, despite the sets of eyes that were turned to him in question.

“What?” he asks finally, making contact with Mandy. She holds up both of her hands to kind of nudge him along. He huffs a bit before settling back down. “Mands was gorgeous, of course. Josh stood up for me while her sister Jenni stood up for her. We didn’t need the big wedding party. We didn’t need much of anything, actually. But the party after - that was a lot of fun.”

Mandy perks an eyebrow at him but figures it is good enough. “Okay, so our next question is about the shops. Yes, the shops are doing great, actually. They keep us pretty busy. Jake’s doing more production work than lessons, now.”

“Yes. I’ve partnered with a few studios in Detroit and so I’m using my producing skills for different bands now,” he explains as he sat up straight and folds his arms across his chest. “I had to bring in a few hands to cover lessons, but it’s really been a good run.”

“And Sparrow continues to do very well. We’re now one of two bookstores left in this region, so we are definitely keeping busy.”

Mandy hands the notebook back over to Jake. He looks down at where her fingers were holding the place of the next question. He seems to turn shy for a moment, but then lets out a laugh.

“So, you may have noticed, we have quite the family,” he said, his grin turning wider by the moment.

Mandy’s own smile is beaming as he loops an arm across her shoulders. “Since we can't have them, we decided to start with fostering.”

“Somehow, we’ve ended up with six right now,” he laughs, wiping a hand across his cheek like he was amazed. “We’re fostering two, and we’ve adopted four - two girls and two boys. We’re trying to adopt the two we are fostering, two more girls.”

“Jake says we’ll just keep adopting them until we’re like ancient and can’t do it anymore,” Mandy laughs out, leaning into his side with such devotion.

The joy that they exude for each other laps out into the room. So much so that there are a few of you that are wiping at your eyes, some of you just have a smile that seems to be reaching up from the bottom of your toes. You watch as they lean forwards, their hands seeking the other to entwine and give a little squeeze of assurance. They turn their faces to each other with a smile only they can truly understand.

The back door slams and a young voice is calling out for “Dad!” It breaks the moment and everyone kind of just shakes it off like you all were spellbound. Jake waves his hands like he was relieved to be allowed to move. He ducks through the kitchen door, his tone questioning, then getting firmer.

“Is your hand falling off right now?”

There’s a moment where there is no sound and you all are just frozen to your spots. You heard the sniffle and the tears. Mandy takes a sip of her drink, although her eyes are straying to the closed door behind her. Slowly, the door swings out to reveal Jake and a boy about twelve, cradling his wounded hand. He is nearly as tall as his dad, with long, thick blonde hair, worn just like dad. You all grin as Jake navigates him to the bathroom with a look to his wife.

“Just a cut,” he says quietly, maneuvering him into the hallway beyond.

Mandy is nodding and turning her attention back to the notebook. “Hey, I can answer this one. Has Jake returned to New Mexico? Yes. We spent a good ten days down there after the wedding. It was beautiful. He really found some solace down there. He did take Jasper down for his tenth birthday and camped for a week. He’s now fourteen and I’m sure the source of Mattey’s upset.

“Oh, I just realized, I can take a bit to brag about the kids. So, there’s Jasper, he’s the oldest at fourteen. He was our first foster, with his sister Tamara who is now twelve. Mattey came next. He came to our family when he was nine, all knobby knees and the biggest green eyes you’ll ever see.” Mandy grins as her soft spot for the boy is revealed in such a grace filled moment. “Bonnie was next. She came to us when she was just two - our first kiddo that young. She’s napping with our fosters, Mary and Becca, they are two and ten months. All of them are just wonderful kids. We’re so lucky to have them in our family.”

There’s a pop of a stuck door that snaps down the hall before Jake reappears with a very shy boy at his side. You watch as their eyes snap to the mama to find reassurance. Mandy holds out an arm and Mattey is quick to melt into her side. Jake mutters a warm ‘mama’s boy’ while he brushes his hand over the boy’s hair. He means in it the best of ways. There is a collective sigh as Jake sits down and tells the boy to head back outside.

Mandy takes a moment to check to see if everyone has enough to drink as Jake eyes up the snack offerings, landing on a bag of popcorn. They seem to settle back, side by side, in the most lovely way. You realize that your time in the house is going to be coming to a close soon. There’s only a few more questions left to be answered. You sip at your drink with a little bit of apprehension - you’re not sure if you’re ready to let them go.

“Okay, so what’s next,” Jake remarks before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Well, let’s see,” she says quietly, turning her eyes back to the notebook. “Uh, so our tenth anniversary is coming up and Jake just turned-”

“Thirty,” Jake broke in with a laugh.

“Forty one,” Mandy corrected with an eyebrow lift and cocky grin. “But a very sexy, handsome forty one.”

There was ascension amongst you, which in turn made Jake all blushy and shy. It only made things worse with more ‘awws’ that turned the man’s cheeks a red that was beyond endearing. Mandy pats his thigh before gripping it tight with a belly laugh. She is so proud of her man; just as much as he was of her. Even in stillness, you could see their spirits dancing so close, so happy.

“I’m not sure what he’s been scheming, actually,” Mandy said, her teeth mashed together in a grimace. “It could be naked lounge singing on a cruise, or -”

“No, no, no,” he laughed, making everyone in the group laugh with him once they realized where she was taking them. “Hey, that is still going to be a surprise, love. I can say that the beach and ocean will be involved.”

Your cheeks are hurting from smiling so much. There’s stirrings upstairs and Mandy’s attention is drawn up the second floor to the sounds of ‘Mommy’ being called out by the littlest of voices. It’s time. Were all the questions answered? No. But that’s okay. You know that Jake and Mandy have extended this time to you as only a courtesy and it was well worth it for all involved. You all thank the lovely couple for the time and wonderful hospitality before heading off into your own part of the world knowing that although their love story was not always a happy one, they most certainly are happy now.

The End 💚

Thank you to those who have read it through during posting and thank you to those who will binge it all in one go. I hope you have enjoyed BLP. I told you there’d be a happy ending!

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf @wildbluesorbit @sinarainbows @livkiszka @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gracev0609 @gretavangroupie @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fan fic #greta van fleet au #gvf au #greta van fleet fan fic #jake kiszka au #best laid plans

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the-five-bright-stars · 4 days

Text

FBS Draft Scene: Still Undone

Word Count: 1600

Author's Notes: This has been a landmark scene in my head for a long time, but I realized recently I had never really told anyone about it! This takes place in the middle of the story. Content Warning spoils the heaviest part of this segment, so try to skip over it if you want to be surprised! Sorry I can't blank it out!

Summary: While searching the abandoned winter grounds of the carnival Taps once worked for, he and Riker discover the body of Hinge, Taps' childhood sweetheart. Title comes from Orville Peck's 'Hope to Die,' Taps and Hinge's theme.

Content Warnings: Dead robot, body desecration, attempted revival and subsequent putting down

Previously: Taps and Riker were being dragged back to New Amida by Kilroy and Lucy, but at a split second opportunity, stole their car and made off. While laying low, Taps is revealed to have an emotion blocker in his head, which Riker hastily removes, causing Taps to start experiencing extreme mood swings and reactions. Afterward, they decide to search for clues as to the whereabouts of Lindy, Taps' missing sister, and the first place to search is where Taps saw her last-- the carnival winter grounds where they worked together, now abandoned.

　Taps shuffled through the dusty papers in the desk drawers, keeping the lights of his eyes dialed up. Riker had their one flashlight tucked between his cheek and his shoulder and was picking the locks on the filing cabinet on the other side of the room, muttering under his breath. They’d checked a few other rooms in the deserted building before finding this office, all of them trashed in the time since the winter grounds were abandoned. The rooms had been shifted around after Taps left the carnival, except for the big storage room where they’d found, miraculously, a still sealed gallon of diesel.

　　Taps was trying not to let that diesel’s presence distract him. There were lots of reasons why a carnival might have that on hand, not just the one that he feared. Right now he had to focus on finding clues of where Lindy had gone.

　　“Got it,” Riker said, pulling open the top cabinet drawers. He wrinkled his nose at the contents; they probably smelled musty. “What year did you leave, again?”

　　“1959,” Taps said. “November.”

　　“Right, so--” Riker paused. “You were built in ‘47? Christ, you were still a kid.”

　　Taps silently straightened up and walked around the desk. “Demétrio had to move our contracts fast,” he said. “Medical bills. Here, I found a key, if there’s nothing in that one.”

　　In the second-to-bottom drawer, they found something. The manila folder nearly crumbled as Riker shifted it up into the light. It was unlabeled, but as Riker flipped through the tops of the papers within, he perked up. “Contract receipts. Jackpot.”

　　Taps leaned closer, staring at the papers as Riker jumped to the back of the folder. Focus, he thought. Don’t think about--

　　“Bettencourt!” Riker exclaimed. He grinned at Taps, pointing to a yellow page. “Bettencourt, L. Sale of contract: 1961. I can’t believe we fucking found it!”

　　Taps was frozen; his engine slowed. Riker’s smile began to dim.

　　“Hey,” Riker said softly. “You OK?”

　　“Yes,” Taps said, voice stiff. His illuminators had turned to pinpricks. “Yes. I just--”

　　Riker reached out and rested a hand on Taps’ shoulder. “Relax. This is big, and you’re just getting your feelings together. You need a minute before we get out of here?”

　　Taps vented a small burst of air, his head dropping forward, and he nodded.

　　Riker gingerly folded the receipt along its age-old crinkles before putting it in the inner pocket of his jacket. He stood with a grunt, rubbed his knees, and then held his hands up to his mouth, puffing a faint, misty cloud of hot air over them.

　　After a few minutes, the pair stepped out into the hallway, the shattered window at the closer end spilling moonlight across the floor. They walked carefully toward the exit, but stopped at the door, hearing whooping voices in the distance.

　　“Those damn teenagers are still here?” Riker growled. “Shit. They better not fuck with the car.”

　　Taps opened the door a crack and peaked through. “I can see their flashlights. They’re between us and the van, but I don’t think they’re moving toward it.” Taps paused, thinking. “There’s should be another way around, through the warehouse. I think the door was this way…”

　　They slipped as quietly as they could through the office building to the side door, then darted to the warehouse. Like the office, any sort of padlock had long been broken off, and the door opened with a soft creak. Riker flinched at the sound, then ducked inside, turning to wave Taps through. Taps only hesitated for a split second.

　　The main chamber of the warehouse was a disaster. Riker tried to keep the flashlight pointed at the ground as they walked, but the light would twitch nervously toward any open doors they passed. Riker’s foot collided with something and he yelped as it tumbled forward; Taps froze again, staring at the black diesel canister lying on its side, lit up in the circle of yellow. Riker breathed through his teeth.

　　“Christ, thought that was a rat for a second,” he said.

　　Taps stepped forward and picked it up, sloshing the liquid inside. Riker frowned at him-- or more specifically, at his eyes. Taps could feel his lights narrowing again.

　　“Taps?” Riker asked, voice a quiet hiss. “What’s the matter?”

　　“There was another robot,” Taps said. “His name was Hinge, and he ran on diesel.”

　　Riker stared at Taps for a moment, and Taps stared past him. There was a large doorway with no door just ahead of them, with smears on the ground, grimy shoe prints leading in and out. Before Riker could form a response, Taps had moved into the doorway.

　　There was something in there, against the far wall.

　　Taps’ footsteps were jerky as he took one, two steps in. Even with his illuminators turned all the way up, the shape was hard to make out. But it was big and bulky, crumpled forward over itself.

　　The flashlight shone past Taps shoulder, and Riker swore.

　　Hinge’s body sat with its back against the wall, head bowed forward over its bent legs. The left arm was missing below the elbow, and the chassis and the wall surrounding it were covered in spray paint. The graffiti on the wall made a terrible halo around the slumped form.

　　Taps barely registered his legs moving. He walked forward as if compelled, the carnage that had wracked Hinge’s body more apparent with every step. At some point he had dropped the diesel canister; it wasn’t in his hand when he knelt, almost falling, and reached out to touch Hinge’s knee.

　　“You stayed,” Taps whispered to the corpse. “Why did you stay?”

　　Taps couldn’t stop staring at Hinge’s face-- the hanging jaw, the dark holes of his glass-broken eyes. Some irreverent vandals had messily applied zigzags and meaningless blobs and a singular holographic sticker across his wide torso. Hinge would have hated it. Would hate it. Hated it.

　　Taps stood and turned sharply, nearly knocking into Riker. He ignored the words that stumbled out of Riker’s mouth and snatched the diesel canister off the ground, unscrewing the cap as he hurried to Hinge’s side. His fuel intake was just behind his left shoulder.

　　Taps did not stop pouring when Riker grabbed his arm and pointed the flashlight in his face, but he did start to hear him again.

　　“--can’t do this, buddy, there’s nothing left--”

　　“He has two ignition switches,” Taps said. “One on each side. I can’t reach both at once.” He turned his head and locked eyes with Riker. “I need you to hit the other switch.”

　　Riker’s eyes were round, the whites of them catching the light that bounced back into his face.

　　“What? No. I won’t,” Riker stammered. “Taps--”

　　“Do it,” Taps snapped. And then, venomously: “You owe me.”

　　Riker’s jaw snapped shut, and slowly his brows furrowed, the crease between his eyebrows deepening darkly. For a long moment he said nothing. Taps removed the nozzle from Hinge’s intake, and was just feeling the stirring of hesitation when Riker whipped around. Taps thought he might be storming out of the room, but he turned at Hinge’s feet and came back to his other side.

　　“You’re going to fucking regret this,” Riker snapped, casting the light over Hinge, looking for the switch.

　　Taps reached out and pried Hinge slightly more forward from the wall, enough to slip their hands beneath his shoulder blades. “Just press, and hold for three,” Taps said. “One… two… three--”

　　There was a gurgle and a bang from within Hinge’s chest, and he jerked violently. Black smoke spat from his mouth, and one eye flickered. Riker pulled back, and Taps’ hands snapped out, ready to steady him.

　　“Hinge? Hinge!” Taps cried. “It’s alright, it’s--”

　　Hinge continued to spasm, and Riker jumped back as his only arm swung aimlessly. Sounds gargled out of his voice box, a waterfall of half-words and metallic screeches, and with a full-body jolt he fell onto his left side, nearly taking Taps down with him. Hinge-- his body-- contorted on the ground, thrashing and scraping itself on the concrete, howling.

　　Taps stared and realized what he had done.

　　“Hold his head.”

　　Riker was holding a long metal rod, some piece of detritus from the floor.

　　Taps could have screamed, but with threadbare restraint, he did not. He only knelt and did his best to hold onto Hinge’s head, a hand on both sides. Hinge was--had been-- was so, so strong, and it was difficult to steady the head.

　　Riker missed the first blow, the end of the rod bouncing off the center of Hinge’s faceplate. The second spike hit true, going deep into the eye socket, back into the elongated skull. Riker wrenched the rod to one side, then the other, and with a snap something gave away, and Hinge’s body went still.

　　Taps kept holding the head as Riker-- Riker was crying, Taps dimly realized-- as he pulled the rod free and tossed it aside. The flashlight had been left on the ground, pointing at Hinge, and Riker retrieved it, knuckles bone white around the grip. He was breathing heavily, teeth grit, and his wet eyes shot accusing darts at Taps.

　　‘“I owe you?”’ Riker hissed bitterly. “I should have told you to get in line.”

　　And then he did leave, stalking out into the hallway. Taps heard him begin to retch, and he looked down again. He ran a hand over Hinge’s forehead.

　　“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, love. You deserved the whole world. Better than this. Better than me.”

#the five bright stars #hinge fbs #taps bettencourt #riker venczel #robot fiction #fbs2024 #fbsdev #fbs stories

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igot-sarang-ggg · 1 year

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Hey there :) please could I request a one shot of Bruno bucciarati saving the reader from an enemy mafioso or her family and inducting her into his gang (before the events of golden wind) and what would the other guys reactions to her be. Could there be hints of romance please 💙💙💙

Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took me so long post. Hope you enjoy the story

The Bakers Daughter (Bruno Bucciarati x Reader)

Masterlist

Small Summary: You work as a baker at a company owned by your father. when your father doesn't pay what he owes the boss hes given some time to round enough money to pay but instead he runs away and leaves you to clean up his mess

Small mentions: SPOILERS, near-death f!reader, blood, getting tortured, mention of la squadra spell check is out the window..

I never thought today would be my last day on this earth. Life's so cruel...

My eyes began to blur as I took my last breath. An image of Bucciarati came to mind, why am I thinking of him at a time like this? It seemed like he was swimming towards me, "Bru-no." How did this have to happen to me?

It was a day like any other, opening the bakery, helping customers, and what I loved the most baking! The bell on the door rang, "Welcome what can I get for you today?" I greeted a young man that walked in, he had a bowl cut for his hairstyle but it suited him nicely. He's been coming here every Saturday for the past few months. "Good morning Y/n, I'll have the usual."

"Ah yes, we'll have that out for you in a bit. Would you like anything else, sir?" I started to write down his total, "What would you recommend?" I pointed to the display of cookies and cakes, "We do have other sweet options like Frutta Martorana, Zeppole, and many others to name a few." he scanned the deserts in front of him. "Do you have strawberry shortcake?"

"Yes, we do, how many slices would you like on the cake?" I walked over to the dessert display and took out the cake he requested. "Twelve slices if that's alright." I smiled at him, "Sure thing." After cutting the cake I around up his total, "Okay that will be thirty dollars with seventy-three cents." He handed me two bills, "You can keep the change."

"Okay, thank you. Your sweets will be out in a few minutes mister..." I wanted to say his name but forgot we never exchanged our names, he knew my name cause I wore a name tag. "Bruno Bucciarati." I've heard that name before, most of the people in town talk about a guy named Bruno and how he always tries to help people in any way he can even though he's a Mafioso. "If you don't mind me asking what brings you to this part of town?"

"I had some business to attend to. Plus you guys do make some delicious desserts. I enjoy supporting companies such as yours."

"I see. Well, thank you for liking our deserts." As I packed up the deserts Bruno requested, the bell rang again, "Hi welcome what can I get..." When I looked up there were these two men, they'd been coming here for the past few months to speak with my father. They gave me a look, and I already knew what it meant. "He's in the back." The silver hair man walked in first and then the blonde guy followed. I continued packing the deserts and handed them to Bruno. "Here you go."

"Thank you. By safe Y/n... I'll come to visit the shop in a few days. My friends really enjoy your deserts." He took the box of deserts and left. We hadn't been getting a lot of business lately ever since those men started showing up. "This is a warning you better have it all by Thursday or else we're coming for you." They both left the bakery. I went to check up on my father he was on the ground crying. I knew that he was running his business with the Mafia but now it seems he's gotten himself into some serious issues. That's why mom left him when I was younger he's gotten into some sort of debt and now he has to pay the conscious.

Thursday came but those men didn't show, instead, Bucciarati came to the bakery. "Bucciarati it's nice to see you again. Do you want the usual?" I started to pull out some cookies. "Yes, thank you. How's business going?" He handed me the money, "Quite slow. Not a lot of people have been coming here lately." I handed him his change "I see."

"So what made you stop by, you usually come in on Saturdays." I started preparing the box and filling them with his order, "I like visiting you... Plus my friends and I wanted some sweets." He wanted to visit me? "Well, I'm glad you're here to visit and that you and your friends enjoy our deserts." I handed him the box he reached out for it and our hands touched slightly. "I'll come by another day. Hopefully, my friends can come with me so you can meet them." He smiled at me and then left.

A few days passed and those men showed up again, this time they had five other men with them. "Hey beautiful, where's your father? We have some business to handle with him." The man with the red leather coat spoke. That morning my father had left with a suitcase and said he would be back in a few days. "I'm sorry boys but he's not here. He went out early this morning." I took out some fresh baked goods handing them to the group, "Would you like some sweets or would you like to order something?" The man with blue hair and red glasses slapped the tray of sweets from my hand, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt.

"What do you take us for some idiots? Did you seriously just offer us some sweets? Your father owes us money and if he isn't going to pay us then we-" The blonde hair man pushed him away from me and covered the man's mouth, "You'll have to excuse him, he's a bit... Crazy and hot-headed." He faced the group of men with him. "Y/n here works for her father but doesn't know about him working for us."

"I see... She'll be perfect for baby face though. Her eyes, lips, her features would be a perfect fit." The one with purple hair spoke he grabbed my face I could see a glow in his eyes, something wasn't right. "Melone stand down... We can use this to our advantage." The silver-haired man spoke, pushing Melone away from me. "Formaggio use Little feet. Illuso knock her out." Before I could even say anything I was now small, the size of what felt like a Barbie doll. I was standing on top of the counter. I quickly jumped off and tried making a run for the door. As I ran to the door I could hear the men laughing, someone picked me up by my shirt "WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE PLEASE LET ME GO!" Tears began to fall as I realized that today might be my final day, the one they called Illuso hit me and everything was now dark.

The sound of water splashing echoed in my ear along with people talking from a distance.

"Wake up sweetheart." My head hurt, and there was a sharp pain in my throat; as if someone was holding a knife to it from the inside of my body. I tried moving but couldn't, my arms and legs were tied up to a chair. We were at a lake from what I could gather. "You're probably wondering what's going on or who we are... We're La Squadra, I'm Risotto. Your father owes us money, the boss isn't too pleased with him since he hasn't paid his dues. We warned him on our last visit that if he doesn't pay up then we'll kill him... But seeing as he's a no-show we'll have to kill you instead." I tried struggling against the ropes but it was no use, "Fight all you want, you won't make it out alive."

Looking at the group of men standing in front of me the blue hair man was holding a camera. "Your fathers next after you die. It seems your father took what little money he could and made a run for it; leaving you to clean up the mess he made." Why would he do this to me? "Once we get him we'll make him watch this video that records your very last moments here on earth. Being tortured by us and then drowning to death."

Tears slid down as they began to hit me. My screams were muffled due to the gag in my mouth, the pain was too much. I began coughing and felt something burst out of my throat. 'How am I still alive? How am I still breathing?!' I thought to myself. "Dump her in" Risotto gave the order and they pushed me into the water behind. I sank quickly; I kept trying to break free from the rope I wasn't gonna die down here not like this.

I was running out of oxygen. I looked up from where I fell seeing a dim light shine from the surface above. I'll just have to accept the fact that this is the end for me. "Y/n!" An image of Bruno came to mind, 'Why am I thinking of him at a time like this?' My head was now cloudy, my eyes blurry, and I couldn't move any part of my body. The last thing I remember seeing was a silhouette swimming toward me.

Where am I? My eyesight was still blurry I could only see a figure standing in front of me. Their mouth was moving but I couldn't hear a thing.

"Y/-"

"Y/n..."

"Y/N please wake up!"

I stood up coughing, "Y/n you're awake! I'm so glad!" The man hugged me. "Bruno?" He pulled away from the hug, it was Bruno. "Yes, it's me. I'm gonna take you somewhere safe... Stay with me okay!" He picked me up and started running, "Why did they do this to you?!"

"My father... The mafia... Money..." I couldn't formulate the words that I needed. I felt tired to speak. "Y/n please stay with me. I'll get you to a doctor but I need you to stay awake." He looked down at me and kept running the sounds of his footsteps began to fade.

When I came to I was in the hospital, Bruno was sitting in a chair sleeping next to the bed. How long has he been here?

"Bruno..." I whispered his name lightly shaking his arm. He opens his eyes, "Good you're awake. How are you feeling? Do you remember anything?"

"I'm okay. The last thing I remember was drowning... How did you find me?" He stood up walked toward the window looked outside and then walked back to me. He spoke in a hushed tone, "I've been keeping an eye on the bakery. Your father requested that I watched in case something were to happen to you. When you were thrown into the water I used my stand to rescue you." Stand? "What's a stand?" I asked him. "I'll explain later. The doctor will be coming here in a bit, when they ask you if you remember anything about the situation you were just in say that you don't remember, and if they ask where you used to work or how you know me tell them that you worked at Libeccio as a waiter." The door then opened a doctor and nurse walked in, Bruno excuse himself and left. They had asked me the same questions Bruno told me to answer, "Seems you may have some sort of amnesia, but it doesn't seem to serve. We'll be discharging you today. Bucciarati Said he'll take you in his care for a bit until you're able to recover." The doctor walked to the door, "We'll run some tests before you go and get the paperwork ready for you."

When they handed me the paperwork I noticed the name on it was wrong, I was gonna say something about it but I guess Bruno noticed and stopped me. We walked out of the hospital and towards his car, "I had to give you a fake name in case they worked for those men." I chuckled, "I get that but," I looked at the name that was written, "Why name me Uovo Sodo (Boiled Egg)?" He smiled and then chuckled, "I'm not so good at naming things, let's just leave it at that."

I started living with Bruno for a bit since I couldn't go home. He asked me if I wanted to join him and become a mafioso and join his team. He explained to me that he wanted to get rid of the mafia, drugs, and bad people like those men who tried to kill me. I agreed to join his team. He set a meeting with Polpo and soon after I joined Bruno's team.

We entered Libeccio I felt a bit nervous. Bruno placed his hand on my shoulder, "They're over there, in the back." I was still hesitant to walk over, "Don't be scared. Trust me they'll like you just as much as I do." He kissed my cheek and took my hand leading me to the group of men, he then let go. "Guys I want you to meet Y/n. She'll be joining our team from now on. Y/n this is Leone Abbacchio, Guido Mista, Fugo Pannacotta, and Narancia Ghirga."

"Woah a girl is joining!?" Narancia spoke. "She's kinda cute. This could be fun." Mista stated... I'll make a mental note to not get so close to him. Fugo stood up taking out his hand, "It's nice to meet you Y/n." I shook his hand, "Likewise."

Abbacchio removed his headphones and crossed his arms, "So this is Y/n, the girl that was legally declared dead not too long ago, huh? How'd you cheat death?" The others seemed confused, I guess Bruno only told Abbacchio what had happened... or he was properly assigned to confirm my death. "Yes, that's me. If it weren't for Bruno I wouldn't be here. I almost drowned to death." I stood in front of the group seeing them look at me with pure amazement.

"Really how? Grab a seat tell us." Narancia Seemed excited to hear about my near-death experience and the other seemed interested as well. I told them everything that had happened. "All I want is to get rid of people like those men and help in any way I can to accomplish that."

After a month I became close friends with Mista, Narancia, and Fugo, they started calling me big sis. However, it did take some time to gain the trust of Abbacchio. Every so often he invites me to drink wine with him and Bruno. And as for Bruno, he and I have become close. Mista has teased me about how Bruno stares at me when I speak or when I'm helping Fugo torture Narancia. I've noticed too.

"I just got a call Leaky-eye Luca was found dead near the airport. I have to get going, I'll be back in a bit." Bruno singled me over to him; we both walked out of Libeccio.

"What is it, Bruno?" I asked him. "We both know time is short for the both of us. After I come back from investigating Luca's death, would you like to go on a date with me?" I smiled so brightly, "Yes, I would." I hugged him feeling so happy and like the luckiest girl alive he hugged me back. "Wonderful, I'll be back shortly okay." We pulled away from the hug a bit and that was when he kissed me for the first time. My heart raced as it felt like time had stopped for us two. "See you soon." He smiled, "Good luck Bruno." We said our goodbyes and he left.

Soon after Giorno Giovanna joined our group, nothing went as planned once he joined.

Request for One-shot are open!

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crescentmoonteas · 1 year

Note

hi same anon as before, i'd love to hear more about the plot you have planned out so far!

and I would love to tell you about it!! be aware this contains spoilers for both Persona 5 Royal and the AU itself, so I'm putting it under a read more just in case

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

SPOILER ZONE oOoOOoOOoOOoo

okay so this is a very loose/rough plot outline because it's still changing and being confirmed (I literally changed Makoto's palace like 10 minutes ago) BUT

edit: I FORGOT MY BOY RYUJI........... RYUJI I AM SO SORRY........... timeline now updated to include Ryuji!

story opens with Haru talking to Wakaba about the exploits of the PTs (same framing device as Sae talking to Joker)

flashback to Haru arriving in Tokyo to start her probation

Sojiro is like "grumble grumble kids these days and their *checks notes* haha you kicked a guy in the balls? that's rad. anyway don't do it again"

first day of school

Haru meets Sumi

Sumi's like "I KNOW WHERE SCHOOL IS SENPAI"

surprise: school is now Madarame's palace (same art gallery kind of theme, thinking of having waxworks instead of paintings and it's highly implied the waxworks are just the cognitive versions of students that have been dipped in wax)

Sumi's like "OKAY MAYBE I DON'T KNOW WHERE SCHOOL IS SENPAI"

anyway blah blah awaken Haru's persona

meet Goro who's stuck and about to be taxidermied (chrome spellcheck told me this was wrong and it was actually taxidermised but apparently you can use both. this is irrelevant to the plot I'm just letting everyone know what I learnt today) by Madarame

save Goro, learn about persona, etc etc

decide best way to get Yusuke to fess up is by stealing his diary

steal the poor man's diary

Haru takes it back to Leblanc and tries to open it

Goro is no help because he's like WE HAVE NO LOCKPICKS!!! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!!! PECK IT OPEN?!

Akira (works part-time at Leblanc) is like "hi :) let me get that for you" *opens diary*

(Akira is the one who teaches Haru about infiltration tools)

meet Ryuji at some point. he's the new track star at Shujin!

anyway. something something awaken Sumi's persona, recruit Yusuke, awaken his persona, everyone gets a persona,

defeat Madarame

yay

go to Kosei to attend a volleyball game

Haru learns who Ann and Futaba are

[the second palace belongs to the guy who runs the eSports team that Futaba is on. I have yet to really nail these details so let's just skip forward]

Futaba: persona awakened, joins the team, hooray!

Futaba promotes the PTs by claiming they're sponsoring her. she puts their logo on her gamer jacket and all.

third palace is Principal Kobayakawa whose name I can never spell correctly from memory so apologies in advance

Kobayakawa has tasked our poor little meow meow Morgana, who is literally just a first year hall monitor with big dreams, with finding out what's going on with students getting jobs and shady deals

Morgana: panic.mp4

the PTs decide to go and change Kobayakawa's heart because tbh he's a bit of a dick

Morgana: persona awakened, joins the team, hooray!

important note: they do NOT find out about Kaneshiro or any of that. however, Kaneshiro is mysteriously taken down anyway.

Haru gets a text that's like "hello pls change my heart. I am literally dying. here's my address pls bring Big Bang Burger if you're coming" (that's a joke) (maybe)

the address leads to an apartment complex and Makoto lives on the very top floor. she's basically barricaded in and the state of her apartment probably violates every single health code

her rent/bills were set to auto-pay but the money's running out

they find out the auto-pay was set up by Sae before she died while out on a mission

"hey this apartment kinda looks like a lighthouse huh-"

MAKOTO'S OWN PALACE TIME

Makoto's palace is an abandoned lighthouse on a deserted island

the water level is rising and there's a leviathan nearby threatening to kill them

the PTs need to get through her palace and change her heart before they all drown/get eaten

pls look at this tweet by Jazzy for Makoto's palace and persona refs!!!!!!!!!!!

anyway. save Makoto, reconciliation with Sae, wooo Makoto is a PT now and she's the nav so Goro can finally stop guessing everything wildly

fifth palace belongs to Akira's dad who owns a wildly successful modelling company (that happens to be the same one Ann belongs to! what a coincidence)

Akira is engaged to Mika and the deadline for their wedding is approaching

(note: Mika isn't a complete bastard in the AU like Haru's fiance - she keeps her own personality!)

Akira's dad's palace is a factory where the models are the product

something something something. have yet to decide if Akira's dad dies like Haru's. remind me to ask Jazzy about this when we start designing that bit of the AU

Jazzy mentioned having both Akira's parents as bosses in the palace so we're doing that!!!

cognitive Akira is like a Barbie doll - he's trapped in a plastic box and he's not allowed out lest the world damages their perfect little darling <3

(hitting cognitive Akira turns him into damaged goods)

anyway AKIRA GET!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sixth palace is Wakaba's

she asks the PTs to explore her palace in the name of COGNITIVE PSIENCE!!!!!

Haru still gets apprehended and arrested by the antisocial force after and they fake her death like oh no, the PTs aren't together anymore. what a shame. anyway,

Seventh palace is Kamoshida

Ann gets her engine room moment (keeping this under wraps because the ideas Jazzy had were AMAZING and I don't want to spoil them)

Kamoshida goes down in FLAAAAMMEEESSSSSSSSS

hang on. everything is wrong. wh-

TIME TO FIGHT YALDABAOTH

pew pew pew

oh no. we lost Goro- oh wait there he is

and everything was fine :)

OR WAS IT!

MARUKI REALITY TIME

RYUJI WAS REALLY HIS BROTHER RYOJI?!?!?!?!?!

AND THE REAL RYUJI WAS THE TRACK STAR AT SHUJIN!

Maruki should not be a therapist. listen. that man needs whatever license/credentials he has revoked.

ANYWAY SHUAKE REALITY TIME NOW AKECHI HAS A HUMAN BOD OUTSIDE OF THE METAVERSE

Maruki fight: now with 20% more thong!

[spoilers censored because they're big and I want them to hit people in the face] [in a loving and good way]

anyway that's the general idea of it. obvs I haven't noted side confidants or anything but that's like the skeleton. the spine. the framework. if you have any Qs, my ask box is open!!!!

#anon #ask #I swear I didn't mean for this to be so long #IYR/RTG #IYR/RTG plot

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therogueduchess · 4 months

Text

Lottery tickets as stocking stuffers have always been a thing in my family. I had a couple in my top drawer from last year and the year before that were a few dollars winnings, plus some from this year as well. I dropped my kid off at school and went to the gas station to cash them all out. The guy there was able to do most of them, but gave me three (all the same kind, $12-15 total in winnings) back, saying the game was over and I had to take them to the Mass Lottery place in Braintree.

I got breakfast with double coffee, paid my cable bill, and said to myself, “self, fuckit, it’s a nice day for a drive, and you can start listening to that podcast.” I did the 40 minute drive to Braintree, listening to Desert Skies episode 1 and having intense feelings about gas station burritos.

In the Mass Lottery building, the office has a nice, clean lobby, and little carrels where you can stand to fill out your claim form. The counter in the carrels is low for standing, but an excellent height if someone were to come in in a wheelchair, I think. I filled out my claim slips - name address phone social signature date and winning ticket serial number - in triplicate and brought them to the woman at the window. Her eyes widened a little looking at the first ticket.

“Wow, a dollar ticket!” and she put it under the scanner. “I’m sorry honey, this game is over.”

“I know. I went to cash them at a gas station and the guy said it was over and I had to come here to redeem them.”

“Oh. Oh no, he shouldn’t have told you that - we have the same system they do. When the big prize in a game is redeemed, all other claimants have one year to cash in the tickets, and it’s been more than a year. I wish they didn’t tell people that you could come here, places do that all the time and it’s wrong.”

She slid the tickets and slips back to me and I smiled, and sigh, and thanked her for her time and wished her a good day.

Anyway, it was a nice day for a drive.

#life in Massachusetts #desert skies #experience the emptiness with me

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chrrywon · 1 year

Text

BY MY SIDE 💌 yeonjun x gn!reader

desc. blind dates were nothing new to you and most certainly not the types of people you've encountered on said dates. when one of your friends set you up on a blind date for valentines, you were hopeful for a good outcome. while you didn't get what you were hoping for from your date, yeonjun swoops in to save the day.

(alt: ur blind date is awful but thankfully yeonjun's in love with u.)

includes. fluff, yeonjun is lowkey jealous but not in a toxic way, soft jun <3, y/n's a little oblivious tbh, poor grammar LOL

warnings. mentions of food, like one cuss word

word count. 1.6k

a/n. yes, valentines day was yesterday, yes i am still gonna post valentines content. i honestly could not choose a concept to write for yeonjun at ALL but i was listening to this song and the words just poured out of me. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated~ hope u enjoy :D

You didn't know why you agreed to go on this blind date, but what you do know is that you regret it. This was the nth time your date bragged about his multitude of achievements as if it would make you fall for him.

Faking reactions drained you, especially since his stories weren't relatable in the slightest; he was just another rich and obnoxious person. The date was going terribly, to say the least, but you're getting free food out of it so a little acting didn't hurt.

The waitress assigned to your table arrived with the food trolley and you gawk at how delicious the food looked. Surprisingly it had only taken around 30 minutes for your food to arrive. This was impressive considering how booked the restaurant was.

Quick service, you thought to yourself.

"These people take forever to bring food," your date scoffs once the waitress was out of earshot.

You raise your brow before twirling your pasta with a fork. The restaurant was no fast food place so a wait time should've been expected. You rightfully assumed he was used to getting everything served as soon as he asked for it.

"I thought it was pretty quick," you shrug. "Not many places are as fast as this."

He sneered slightly as he poked at his steak. "I guess."

The rest of the date was silent as you two ate your food, lost in your thoughts. You were glad for the quiet but judging the look on your date's face, he was pissed about something. Fortunately for you, your food was too good to mind his shift in behavior.

Once you finished eating, the waitress came back to clean up the dishes and handed the bill to your date. He fished out a black card from his pocket with a smug look before placing it into the check presenter.

Cocky bastard, you rolled your eyes internally.

Once he got his card back, you gather your stuff and make your way out of the booth with your date following right behind. He was a very good-looking guy, so it was a shame how terrible his personality was.

"I had fun," he said as he slips his arms into his navy blue blazer. "We should do this again some time."

Your stomach twisted in guilt. Rejecting people was not your thing, so the thought of it made your heart heavy. But it's better to save yourself time than to put up with another date like this one.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not feeling it," you slightly grimaced as soon as the words left your mouth. The smile on his face immediately dropped and he scoffed loudly. He placed his hands in his pants pockets with an offended expression.

"Fine, whatever. Good luck getting a ride home," he stormed off.

You let out the breath you've been holding and a wave of relief washes over you. Surprisingly, you felt thankful since his reaction could've been way worse. However, the sudden realization that you've just been deserted hit you. You fished out your phone in hopes of getting an Uber until you saw the messages you had missed.

Beomgyu

Yeonjun's been scolding Soobin for setting you up on that date LOL

Don't listen to him, have a great time!

(Sent - 9:43)

Yeonjun

Ur date looks like a douchebag

Have fun though

(Sent - 9:55)

You chuckle lightly before hitting the call button next to Beomgyu's name. The line rang for a short while before a loud voice made you move your phone from your ear in surprise.

"____!" You heard Beomgyu clasp his hands from the other side. "Did it go well?"

"It could've been better," you sighed. "He left me here cause I rejected him. Don't tell Yeonjun, but he was a total snob."

There was a pause. You check to see if the line disconnected but were only greeted by the call screen on your phone. "Hello?" You spoke to make sure he was still there.

"You rejected him?" A curious voice asked and you instantly recognized it as Yeonjun's. You could practically hear the smug smile on his face. He was the only one not rooting for your date to go well, so you knew was feeling cocky about it. His intuition was usually right, but you were desperate to prove him wrong.

"Hi Yeonjun," you mocked his voice. "I already know what you're gonna say. And you were right," you sighed in defeat. The gloating was unavoidable as he's known to never let it go whenever he's right.

"I told you! Guys like him are no good. Just rich assholes who think they can get their way every time."

You snort before nodding your head in agreement even though he couldn't see you. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But I need a ride. Can you come get me?"

There was another pause and you tapped your shoes on the pavement waiting for a response.

"Send the address. I'll be there as fast as I can."

After about 20 minutes, you look out the window and spot the familiar black Genesis sedan slowing down to a stop next to the sidewalk. A smile forms on your face as soon as you step foot outside the restaurant. The window rolls down and Yeonjun peeks his head from the driver's side.

"Uber for ____?" Though his voice was serious, you could see the ghost of a mischievous smile on his lips. You chuckle lightly before opening the car door.

"Yes, that is I," you go along with his joke. As soon as you sat down your nostrils were filled with the scent of the woody sage smell that always radiated off of Yeonjun. He tapped his index on the wheel to the rhythm of the RnB song playing through his speaker. From the corner of your eye, you could see how he attentively watched you put on your seatbelt with a slight smile on his lips.

"So about your date," he turned his attention to the front and began driving once he heard the click of the seatbelt. A snicker escapes his mouth at the immediate groan that left your mouth. He intended to annoy you and you knew that too.

You roll your eyes. "This was the worst yet. He didn't even try to be subtle about it. Like I was so close to falling asleep when he was explaining how much he earns."

Yeonjun laughed at your complaining. He sat and listened to you rant for a bit until you were tired recalling your experience.

He smiles fondly at you and hummed in thought for a second. "The night's still young. Wanna go for a drive around the city?"

"After the night I've had, I would love that," you sighed as you let your head lie comfortably on the headrest.

After years of knowing Yeonjun, you've never once felt uncomfortable whenever he was around. Looking back at it now, he would always be by your side after any inconvenience, minor or not. Though you knew he was caring for everyone, it still brought you peace of mind.

He turned the volume up and let the music fill the silence that took over. You quietly sang along to songs you recognized and moved your head to the groove of ones you didn't. The last thing you remember is Yeonjun telling you to get a quick nap, to which you protested.

When the car came to a stop, you stir awake. It didn't take long for you to realize that somewhere along the ride, you had fallen asleep. Yeonjun lightly tapped your arm, not aware that you had woken up. You wipe at your mouth where the feeling of drool started to become noticeable and look at him.

"____," he spoke softly. "We're here."

He exited the car first and made his way to your side to open your door. You smile lightly at him, still feeling the effects of your nap.

The park was glowing with lamps decorated with fairy lights connecting each parallel. It wasn't surprising that the place would be practically empty considering how late into the night it was. There were a few people around, but not enough to disturb the peaceful air.

"The view here is really pretty at this time of night," Yeonjun explained as you followed him to whichever area he was going. "After this, I'll drop you home and call it a night. You must be tired."

You nodded your head in agreement and sat next to him at the end of the walkway. The bench was facing the horizon and you could see all the building lights of Seoul. You gasp in awe at the scenery, unaware a place like this existed.

"I can see the company building from here!" You point out the familiar building. "You were right, it is pretty here."

You heard Yeonjun chuckle and turn to look at him. It was only then you notice how effortlessly attractive he looked with his sweatshirt and jeans. You watch as his piercings sway lightly when he turned to pick up something from his side.

"Here."

He handed you a small gift bag and you furrow your brows at him. A stifled laugh erupted from him at your expression. He used his head to signal for you to take it, which you did. "Happy Valentines, ____."

Your skeptical eyes turned into shock when you saw the words Swarovski on a jewelry box. You immediately shook your head in disbelief, nearly shoving the gift bag back into Yeonjun's hands. He was quick to hold your wrist to prevent you from handing it back to him.

"Yeonjun, are you serious?"

"Just open it," he urged you. You pout slightly before hesitantly opening the box. Inside was an infinity bracelet that you instantly recognize as the one you've been eyeing for weeks. Last time you checked, the bracelet was well over a hundred dollars.

"If your date had gone well today, I probably would've returned it." Yeonjun laughed wryly. "So take this as a confession."

"You don't have to give me an answer right now. Hell, you don't even have to accept the bracelet right now. I just hope that you'll be able to stay by my side for a long while, if not forever. Just know I'll always be there for you, whether as a friend or a lover."

#— brea writes {🍒}#yeonjun fluff #yeonjun oneshot #yeonjun txt #yeonjun ff #yeonjun x you #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun fanfic #txt fanfic #txt oneshots #txt series #txt imagines #txt fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 10 months

Note

Hi, how are you? I wanted to apply for laurel gates x student! reader... I would like to read about Laurel and the reader (maybe with tyler) escaping after what happened in chapter eight and what their new life as fugitives would be like, a bit of smut and the usual kinks

Yessss, here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!!!

Go west

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/ Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, bad choices, fluff

Word count: 2,202

Summary: You ran away with her, but you’re not sure what your future would be…

N/A: You can read it as a part 2 of this one, but you can read by itself too :)

Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

A pothole took you out of the little dream you were in. It was already day. You didn't know how long it had been since you escaped from Jericho, but you didn't know that road. You managed to remember what you had done, escape with a fugitive, a dangerous one, Laurel Gates.

She was next to you, caressing your head, surely believing that you were still asleep. You moved to sit upright, rubbing your eyes.

“Where are we?” You asked with a sleepy voice. Laurel kissed you softly.

“We are far from Jericho, my love. Now our new life begins.”

A sudden movement of the car startled you, and made you open your eyes wide and, clinging to the redhead.

“Tyler!” She yelled angrily. The car immediately stabilized again. The boy looked at you in the rearview mirror, scared, probably because of the reaction of his mistress.

“I, I'm sorry,” the boy stammered. “I'm, I'm tired.”

Laurel snorted and looked at you again, studying your face.

“What about you, (Y/N)? Is my precious girl tired?” She asked tenderly, pushing your hair away from your face.

You yawned and nodded. Your body ached from being in that old Cadillac, but it was better to sleep uncomfortably than start asking questions in your head.

“Okay, honey, we'll stop at the first motel we see. We'll take a shower, get some sleep, eat something and continue on our journey, okay?”

“Won’t, won't it be dangerous?” You asked scared. “They'll be looking for you and…” Laurel silenced you with a kiss.

“I doubt they'll look for me around here, you should calm down. Everything will be fine.”

After one hour, the sign of a secluded motel caught your attention. There was nothing around it, it didn't even look like a place that was very used to having customers. It was completely deserted.

You got out of the car, feeling how truly your strength was failing you. You needed to sleep in a bed, and you needed it desperately.

“Come on, honey, come,” she told you, helping you to get out of the car. You grabbed her waist and walked slowly towards the old reception.

There, sitting behind a counter, was a woman with a scowl on her face, reading a magazine while a fan moved the heavy air in that place a little. Seeing the three of you enter, she sighed unwillingly and put down the magazine.

“What do you want?” She asked, pulling out an old visitor's notebook.

“Two rooms and no questions,” Laurel said, while you almost dangled from her waist.

The hideous woman raised her eyebrows and stared at you. Your legs began to shake. The radio was on, you might have heard your description on the morning news.

“Very well, sweetheart, if you are so kind as to tell me your names…” She said, opening that dirty notebook.

Laurel shook her head and reached into her pocket, pulling out a thick wad of bills, which she placed on the counter. The receptionist looked at her, and then at you. She repeated the same process twice, until she inconspicuously pocketed the money.

“Oh, okay…” She sighed as if she was quite used to that kind of things. She got up awkwardly from the chair and searched for two keys in a drawer, which she put in front of you. “Rooms 12 and 14, as soon as you exit to the left.”

Laurel took the keys and nodded, turning around.

“Hey, redhead,” the woman said. “Just tell me that girl who sticks to you like a barnacle is of legal age. There are things I can't ignore.”

“Of course she is,” she replied dryly. “Come on, Tyler.”

The boy nodded and complied, shyly saying goodbye to the unpleasant receptionist.

“You, go to your room and sleep as long as you need, then I want you watching the car,” she ordered Tyler, giving him one of the keys.

You two went into your room. It was as dilapidated and dusty as it appeared from the outside.

“Well, it's not Palace, but at least it has a bed,” the redhead said, moving away from you and running a finger along the dresser.

You sat on the bed, looking down. Suddenly all your bad decisions came back to attack you mercilessly. It was crazy. You ran away, running from the horrible things the woman you loved had done.

She found you, managed to escape and told you that she loved you, that she wanted you to go with her. Surely, if you had had time to think things over, perhaps you would not have agreed, out of cowardice. But there you were, in a filthy god-forsaken motel room. You had nothing, just unconditional love. But that wasn't enough to fill your stomach, or to dress you. Tears soon came to your eyes and you began to sob, something that did not go unnoticed by the redhead, who was reading an old brochure. She quickly turned around and crouched down in front of you.

“My love, what's going on?” She asked, cupping your face with her hands. “Please, my girl, don't cry, tell me what is wrong.”

“It's… It's just…” You stammered, trying to speak between hiccups and sobs. “I don't know what I'm doing here.”

Laurel's eyes began to sparkle and her face became puzzled, sad.

“You are here with me, just as we wanted, you and me. This may be shit, honey, but soon things will change, I promise you,” she told you trying to hug you.

You left her, and buried your head on her shoulder, crying uncontrollably.

“I... I... I'm alone... I've given up everything...” You lamented, letting yourself be hugged.

“You are not alone my love, you will never be alone again. I won't allow it,” she told you in your ear.

“I don't have money… I don't have clothes… I don't have anything…” You kept sobbing. Laurel got up and sat next to you, holding your hands.

“You don't need money, honey, forget about it. I will give you everything you want, but you have to give me some time, you have to trust me,” she said, almost desperate. You nodded, calming down a bit and remembering why you did that crazy thing. You loved her, you loved her above all else. That made you realize that you were doing it for her, not for you.

“I'm sorry… I… I just…” You said, shaking your head. The redhead kissed your forehead affectionately and caressed your cheek, getting a little closer to you.

“Calm down, (Y/N), everything is fine. Listen to me, this is what we're going to do. You're going to take a warm shower while I'm going to get you some clothes, I thought I saw a seedy shop next to the reception.”

“Okay…” You sighed.

“Very good. Are you hungry, honey?” She asked. Your stomach answered for you, growling loudly. Laurel laughed. "Okay, I'll also look for something to eat."

Saying that, she kissed you intensely, and she got up, leaving you alone in the middle of that room. You decided to stop thinking about the decisions you had made, and start accepting them as they were. There was no turning back, you should look to the future with desire, not with regret.

In Nevermore, you always fantasized about running away from there with a small house in some sunny place. Somehow those dreams were going to come true. But things never turn out the way we expect.

You got out of bed and went to the bathroom, ready to listen to your beloved's advice, to always listen to her, starting with something as simple and insipid as a shower.

The water did not obey the orders you gave it. Too cold and too hot. You took off the sweaty and dirty clothes that you had been wearing since the day before. The whole floor seemed to shake when the water came out of that battered faucet.

Feeling the hot water immediately made you feel better. You started to see things positively. You always dreamed of living an adventure, of forgetting the world and fleeing far away, far from your past, far from your old life. At least that's what you thought before you met Marilyn Thornhill.

Stepping out of the shower, you look with disgust at your clothes. The best thing at the moment would be to put a towel on you. Putting your old jeans back on would make you remember what you were doing, make you feel dirty, a bad person.

You put on the towel and lay down on the bed. You tried to clear your mind, looking at the rickety ceiling fan. It seemed that at any moment it would fall on top of your head. It would be a very stupid way to die.

“Hello, honey…” Laurel whispered, stroking your back.

You opened your eyes, realizing that you had fallen asleep. The sunlight was much dimmer and it seemed that she had also taken a shower. You stood up blinking rapidly.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You asked, yawning. Laurel smiled sweetly.

“When I came back you were already asleep... You looked like an angel...” She whispered to you. “Oh, I have something for you.”

The redhead got up and reached into a plastic bag that wasn't there before. From it he took out some new clothes, a sandwich and a soda. You rushed like an animal for food, you were starving.

“Thank you…” You said with your mouth full. She smiled as she watched you devour that sandwich.

“I bought more like this one if you're hungry,” she told you, while you drank that can of soda as if you had been in the desert for a week. You shook your head, almost choking.

“Laurel…” You sighed.

“Yes, my love?”

“Can you… Can you hug me, please?” You asked. She nodded in surprise, as if you had asked her for something strange.

You lay back on the bed, leaning against her chest, as Laurel hugged you tightly against her. You closed your eyes, remembering why you did that crazy thing, why you decided to give up your life for a fugitive, why you became a fugitive yourself. The warmth of her embrace, the touch of her hands, her breath, her scent. All of that made you lose your mind. You would go to the end of the world with her, and no trace of reason that could remain in your head could prevent you from doing so.

“Laurel…” You sighed again.

“Hmm?”

“Can I know where we're going?” You asked timidly. You didn't know where you were going, but she seemed calm. You needed to satisfy your curiosity, to have a destination to reach.

“We're going west. I have a small house in California, next to the sea. No one asks anything there, no one knows us, no one will ever bother us. I'm sure you'll love it, (Y/N).”

You sighed happily, relieved. Maybe your dreams were going to come true. You stood up suddenly, staring at the redhead.

“I love you,” you said, safe, confident.

“I love you, (Y/N),”she answered you, with bright eyes.

After that declaration of love, passionate kisses filled the room. You were happy, carefree. The ideal life you had in your head was getting closer. You were exhausted, but you wanted to show how much you wanted to be there with her, that you didn't regret it.

“Honey…” Laurel gasped, untying the towel that covered your body. “Come here…. I want to take you right now….”

You nodded, lying naked on the bed, while the redhead climbed on top of you, getting rid of her own towel.

“You're so beautiful… Such a good girl for mommy…” She hissed, running her hand up your leg, discreetly going up to your thigh.

“I... I... I need you, please...” You said, when she caressed the area between your legs. You didn't realize how much you wanted her until that moment.

“Be good, honey, say it right…” The redhead whispered, passing her hand through your center, caressing it gently, making your hips desperately seek contact.

“Please mom…”

You wouldn't know how to explain what you felt when you felt her fingers enter inside you. A forbidden pleasure, a dangerous adventure and a very great love, an infinite love.

You moaned between those walls. Surely someone would listen to you, someone would be spying on you, but you didn't care. You only cared about feeling her closer to you, even more than she already was.

She loved you, you loved her. It was no longer an aimless journey, a desperate flight. It was a start to a new life, a dangerous life.

You couldn't bear so much pleasure. You wanted more and more. The whole night was for you, just for you, as a gesture of gratitude, as a gesture of understanding and forgetting the horrible things that had happened.

The moans were surely traumatizing poor Tyler even more. He had to be climbing the walls hearing his mistress moan desperately, knowing that you were the only cause for it.

Now you wanted to find out what would happen next, in the west.

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot #laurel gates

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