#‘yes dear that looks very bad why don’t you get a Mr Men plaster from the cupboard mummy’s busy sweetie’

[thescoundrelprincess]

The Way You Look Tonight

Jugenea Fan Fic

This was originally gonna be a snippet but I got too involved in it... just a fun and sweet one :)

(Mature Content)

December 1947

“After you dear,” Vincente gestured to Judy into the Mocambo.

Gene and Frank were sitting with all their friends around the bar, clowning around with each other. Gene was only a bit tipsy, not wanting to get wasted tonight. He did that yesterday. He didn’t want to have a shitty hangover again. Although it was fun, and worth it, he actually wanted to feel well and normal on Sunday.

“Want a shot, chum?” Frank slurred to Gene, holding a shot glass in Gene’s face.

“Sure, vodka though.”

“Alllllrighty.”

Frank was the drunkest among all of them. However, Peter, Van, Mickey, and many other stars he was just at work with this past week weren’t far behind.

“The man wants vodka,” Frank gave the bartender the shot glass he had. Gene and the others chuckled.

“Man, Frank’s already plastered ain’t he?” Van chimed to Gene.

Gene nodded. “Maybe he’s having women troubles this weekend.”

Frank accidentally fell into Gene, almost falling over. His balance was comparable to a teeter totter. Gene grabbed Frank’s arm, catching him.

“You good?” Gene asked, holding back his laughter.

“Yes Mr. Kelly, everything’s just swell.”

Frank regained his balance and the bartender handed all of them their shot glasses.

“Shall we make a toast gentleman?”

“Sure Frank,” Peter chimed in. “To what shall we toast?”

“Hmm…” Frank said, stroking his chin. He looked around for a minute, in thought, staring at everybody. Then, he turned back to all of them, eyes wide. A lightbulb lit in his head.

“Alright men, get your glasses ready, I’ve got a toast!” Frank yelled.

“We aren’t deaf Frank,” Bing yelled across the bar.

“Aye, Crosby, you can shut your trap now,” Frank replied sarcastically, raising his glass. All of them raised their glasses towards Frank’s.

“Fellas ready?”

“Yes Frank, who’s the toast to?”

“To Judy Garland!”

In the doorway, Gene immediately caught Vincente slipping off Judy’s beautiful mink coat, revealing a jet black, off the shoulder dress, hugging Judy’s luscious curves. She had a pearl necklace on with pearl earrings. Pure white gloves covered both her hands. His eyes drifted towards her legs. She had sexy, jet black stilettos on, matching her dress. Her hair was down in pin curls, a look he never got sick of. However, this time, she looked even sexier. Arousal shot to the pit of his stomach.

Gene quickly raised the shot glass and gulped it, wincing a bit from the burn, still gazing at Judy. As the drink went down his throat, it was almost like the farther it went down the more memories flooded his mind about Judy, and they got even naughtier as time passed. While Judy was smiling and waving at everyone, he could only focus on her curves. They just finished filming The Pirate about a month before, and he hadn’t seen her since. Throughout filming he not only supported Judy and helped her out through her troubles but also brought her affection… and pleasure. They would release their pent up sexual frustrations in their trailers when no one was around, or when filming was over, especially after a passionate scene between their characters. Gene and Judy tried to stay away from each other, but it was virtually impossible. They both knew there was some uncanny magnetism between them they would never escape unless they never saw each other again, but they could never bear that; they loved each other dearly, more than any sort of love in a purely sexual relationship.

At The Pirate end-of-filming party, Gene and Judy made love one last time; they silently agreed to end their affair, both knowing they had to focus on their marriages and children. Especially Judy. She struggled terribly on The Pirate and she wanted some stability in her life. She hoped to get that stability back after the picture was over.

Gene wanted to shake off his nerves. “Hey, can I have a gin cocktail?” The bartender smiled and nodded. Everyone was gazing at Judy now since Frank toasted to her.

“I need to get a drink for the gal,” Frank slowly spit out, becoming more obnoxious by the minute, yet still charming. He could see Judy making her way to the bar with Vincente. The bartender handed Gene his drink.

“Helllllooooo Judy! And hello Mr. Vincente Minnelli!” Frank kissed Judy on the lips and hugged Vincente. They both could tell Frank was quite drunk.

“Hello Frankie,” Judy giggled. She looked over and caught Gene’s eye. She could sense his nervousness and could tell he was eyeing her dress. She felt herself blushing.

“Hello Frank,” Vincente smiled, patting his shoulder. “It’s nice to see you here.”

“Nice to see you too!”

Judy smiled at Gene and he returned the gesture. Holy shit, Gene thought. She’s even sexier up close. She walked over to him and he slowly leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. The aroma of her fruity perfume hit his nostrils like a wave, turning him on instantly. His lips on her cheek felt heavenly, her skin was so soft. Removing his lips, he exhaled against her face and leaned away.

“Hello darling,” Judy said to him, full of warmth. Vincente came over and shook Gene’s hand.

“Hey, glad you guys could make it,” Gene stated enthusiastically. “There’s a ton of us here and I couldn’t imagine you guys missing. But I have to admit, I didn’t think you guys would show, just because you have Liza.”

“Oh, we’ve had a babysitter for her, so it’s fine. Vincente and I are planning on taking her to the park tomorrow.”

Gene couldn’t stop smiling at her… and staring at her. Her whole face lit up when talking about her baby girl. Even though talking about Liza put a barrier between him and Judy, he loved the little girl and he was proud of Judy being a mother. Plus, he didn’t care at the moment, because she looked so beautiful and he was distracted by it.

“You guys care for a drink?”

“Of course, after we say hello to everybody first though. Hopefully it won’t take too long. Come on darling,” Vincente grabbed Judy’s hand. Judy smirked back at Gene. She looked him up and down. He knew that she knew he was looking at her, in a non-innocent way. But he also knew she liked it. She had this uncanny sense of knowing what other people, especially men, were thinking about. And he knew she liked the attention on her. Did she do this because I’m here? No, how would she know I was here? … His arousal was growing. He needed to stop this… her husband was here.

“Hey Van, I’m heading outside really quick, I need a breath of fresh air.”

“Alright, see you later.”

Judy walked over to almost every table, saying hello to everyone, until she sat down at a table with Kay, Roger, and Arthur. She talked and talked for many minutes, but she couldn’t get Gene off her mind. Butterflies were fluttering inside her stomach. She would never forget his support and love for her during this past shooting of The Pirate, and of course their love making. She thought things would get better between her and Vincente after filming, but their fights persisted. Their romance and passion dwindled ever since Liza was born. Vincente was the perfect father, just not the perfect husband anymore. Judy was having doubts. And with each sip she took of her drink, the more Gene stuck in her mind. Him staring at her… He looked so good too. She wanted to go and talk to him, maybe spend time with the boys near the bar. She glanced over at the bar; all the guys were laughing and clowning around. Ugh. They were having so much fun. She lowkey wanted to get drunk… she needed a break. But she knew Vincente wouldn’t want her to. It would just cause a fight, or at least an irritating tension between them. And she hated it. So, she held back.

“Darling, would you like to dance?” Judy asked Vincente.

“Sorry honey, I would, but I’m feeling a little queasy right now. I’m not sure how much longer I want to stay.”

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I just feel a little sick, that’s all. Do you want to go home right now?”

They had only been there for about 90 minutes. It was only 10 o’ clock. Judy was not about to leave.

“Not really, I mean we just got here. I wanted to take a nice break, release my stress…” Judy muttered to him, looking away. “Everyone’s here, you know, I’d like to catch up.”

Vincente didn’t want to upset her. He understood her logic. He wanted her to have fun, as long as she got home safely.

“I guess I can just leave. Can someone take you home?”

Vincente paused and glanced around. Everything seemed to be going haywire. Tons of people were drunk. Then, he spotted Gene. He looks sober. Maybe he can take Judy home.

“Hold on honey, I’ll be right back.”

Judy watched Vincente leave the table, and walk in the direction of the bar. She watched as he approached Gene. Her heart stopped. Why was he talking to Gene?

Gene got a bit drunk but was sobering up a bit. He thought it was strange that Vincente was approaching him.

“Hey Gene, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Can you take Judy home for me tonight?”

Gene cleared his throat. “Well, uh, of course. Why, are you leaving?”

“Yes, I feel a bit under the weather. Judy wanted to stay and catch up with everybody. You look the most sober among everyone, and I trust you. Would you please keep an eye on her as well? Don’t let her get too drunk. She seems to really listen to you.”

Gene was touched in a way. Him and Vincente had become great friends and they were very close. And of course he was close with Judy as well. He felt bad that he had an affair with Judy during the picture, but the feelings he had for her overrode his guilt.

Gene looked down and contemplated. Of course he would say yes, although he was a bit nervous. Judy was making him nervous. The way she looked made him so giddy and aroused, he wasn’t sure he could control himself. But, he would try to stand ground. He wanted to keep Judy in good care while her husband left.

“Yes, anything Vince. I hope you feel better. I’ll get Judy home whenever she wants to leave.”

“Okay, just don’t get her home too late. If anything happens please get a hold of me.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“See ya Gene.”

He watched Vincente walk back to Judy. Judy was staring at Gene. She looked a little confused. I wonder how she’ll feel about this.

“I asked Gene to take you home so you wouldn’t need to look for a ride. He’s responsible and the most sober out of any of them.”

Judy swallowed nervously but a little excitedly. “Oh, okay. Thank you darling.” Vincente leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, holding her hands. “I’ll see you later honey. Have fun.”

“Thank you, I hope you feel better.”

She watched Vincente walk towards the door and leave. Now she could do whatever she wanted… and she wanted to talk to Gene. Immediately she turned around in his direction. He wasn’t in her line of vision anymore. Where’d he go?

She knew she’d see him eventually. Heading back to the bathroom, she went to apply more powder and another layer of red lipstick.

After a few minutes, she walked out and felt someone tapping on her shoulder. She turned around.

“Heyyyy.”

It was Gene.

“What were you trying to do, scare me or something? It didn’t work.”

“No Judy, just wanted to talk to you, that's all.” She saw him eyeing her collarbone and towards her breasts. Crossing her arms, she cleared her throat, and Gene’s eyes immediately lifted upwards. He met her gaze.

“Whatcha lookin at, buster?”

“A very beautiful woman.”

“Hmm, am I the only woman you’ve said that to tonight?”

“Who else would I have said it to?”

“Literally anyone else.”

Gene raised his hands to her shoulders and ran them down her crossed arms. “No Judy, you’re wrong. You look smokin baby. Why, when you walked in everyone turned to look at you.”

Judy’s butterflies fluttered even more; she loved whenever he called her baby.

“That’s only because Frank’s drunk ass held a toast to me.”

“Yes, to the most special and sexiest woman ever to enter the room.”

Judy blushed at his comment. His smile was adorable, and she couldn’t help but accept his compliment and giggle.

“Okay, well I don’t know about you, but I need some drinks. Take me to the bar? I’d like to socialize with all you clowns. Although I love sitting with Kay and the others, I’d like a change. I need to catch up with everyone.”

“Sure.”

Judy turned and started towards the bar until Gene grabbed ahold of her shoulder.

“Ah ah ah, now wait a minute. You got to promise me something.” Gene pointed at her, giving her a parent look.

“What did you have in mind?”

“You can’t get wasted. Someone told me to keep an eye on you.”

Judy suddenly became irritated. Didn’t Vincente trust her? But, she decided to be playful.

“Mr. Kelly, since when do you give me orders?”

“Your husband gave me orders which I must give you. Get it?”

“Eh, I guess we’ll see what happens.”

Judy grabbed Gene’s hand and walked quickly towards the bar.

“Hey Judy!” Frank and all the others slurred loudly.

“Hey fellas!” Judy took a seat next to Frank and Gene sat back where he sat previously. She was the center of attention. “Can you get me a greyhound please? Double the vodka,” she smiled charmingly at the bartender.

“You sure about that Garland?” Gene eyed her, raising his eyebrows.

Judy grabbed his tie and yanked it towards her, his face about a foot away from hers. “Yes Gene, I’m not a child.”

“Woahhh Judy, what’s going on over here?” Frank turned to face them. “I like a feisty Judy, at least when she ain’t feisty towards me.”

“Vincente left and he wants me to-”

“Ah, hush.” Judy put her finger to Gene’s lips. “Vincente doesn’t want me to have fun. He doesn’t want me drinking too much.”

Gene tried to be the bigger guy and take care of her but he was struggling. All he wanted to do at that moment was swoop her away and fuck her against the wall. She looked so sexy and she was acting very sensuous towards him. Her pulling his tie, her finger on his lips, her piercing brown eyes… the blood was flowing to his dick. Her outfit wasn’t helping it either. She looked stunning.

“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t black out, but I’d have a few drinks. I’ve only had a few and I feel grrreat,” Frank stated, exaggerating his hand movements while he talked. Gene couldn’t help but laugh along with everyone else watching Frank sort of embarrass himself. Frank was his buddy, and he loved him, but he realized that Frank influencing Judy to drink a lot would not help his predicament.

The bartender handed Judy her drink. “Thank you darling.” She turned to Gene. “You getting anything?”

Gene admitted defeat. He couldn’t completely control Judy. He would just have to sober her up a bit before he took her home. “A whiskey sour, please.”

After he got his drink, they all just sat there and socialized. Judy was loosening up, and Gene was too, even though he wasn’t planning on it. Almost everyone else was approaching the plastered stage, but still managed to function somewhat normally. They all socialized together, but Gene and Judy couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. And even though they had just filmed The Pirate, they still had a lot to catch up on.

There was a band playing very slow, sensual, serene music. Judy was having a great time. However, she still hadn’t gotten to dance with anyone. Gene would be the perfect partner of course. But, this whole time she could feel their sexual tension; she had no idea what would happen at the end of the night. She honestly didn’t care. Vincente had been pissing her off lately and she wanted to get away from him. Studio stresses as well barely kept her on her feet. So, why not spend the night with Gene? It doesn’t sound so bad… does it? Judy silently shuffled through these thoughts while loudly socializing with Gene and the others. I don’t want him to think this is just a one night stand though… I want to be with him forever. He means more to me than this. Judy could barely think straight; she had quite a few drinks. Let me just ask him to dance.

“Gene?”

Gene turned to look at her. “Yes Judy?”

“Are you up for dancing with me?”

Gene slowly smiled and nodded. “Always.”

He held out his hand to her and guided her to the dance floor. Gene loosely wrapped his arm around her waist and intertwined his fingers with hers. Feeling bold, Judy leaned her head on his shoulder, scooting closer to his body.

“Judy, what are you doing?”

“Dancing, that’s all.”

“Yes, but what are people gonna think with you being up on me? Your husband was just here.” Gene wanted to pull her even closer, but he had respect for Vincente, and also her reputation, so he was trying to place logical thoughts into her intoxicated brain.

Judy looked up at him. “Was just here, those are the key words. Was.” Gene could see her eyes watering a bit. “Lately he hasn’t been supporting me, we aren’t as compatible as we used to be. These past few months have been hard, especially with Liza. He’s a dear father… but not… well, you know.”

Gene didn’t know what to say, he knew she was hurting. He rubbed her back a little bit, and he leaned his cheek a little closer to hers, nuzzling it slightly. “Everything will work out in the long run honey.”

Gene wanted to change the subject. Talking about her and Vincente made him uncomfortable, especially since he knew him and Judy had been intimate while she was with him. Startling her, he quickly spun around in a circle, pulling her closer to him so she wouldn’t fall. Judy started laughing.

“Woah Gene, I’m dizzy,” Judy said while trying to stay balanced. “Do it again.”

Gene did it once more, but in two circles. Judy was laughing hysterically. Gene couldn’t help but laugh with her; he loved seeing her happy, even if part of it was from being intoxicated. She deserved a night away from her stresses.

“I guess you aren’t as sober as I thought you were.”

“I’m fineee,” Judy said, dancing again slowly in his arms. “I feel swell.”

“Okay, I say you don’t drink anymore for a bit.”

“Only if you keep dancing with me.”

“That’s fine with me.” Gene ran his free hand up to her hair, pushing away the baby strands from her face. He caught another glimpse at her; her big chocolate eyes staring at his, her cute button nose, and those beautifully shaped red lips that looked so inviting. Her white alabaster skin that was so silky, contrasting with her jet black dress. He wanted his mouth all over it, but he refrained. He didn’t want to jump back into a relationship, or whatever it was with her. That all ended with The Pirate. But Judy’s charm was becoming increasingly irresistible. If she made a move, he didn’t know if he could control himself.

The band began to play, “The Way You Look Tonight”, that melodic Jerome Kern song. Gene always loved this song, and Judy did too. Everyone did. This song suits her perfectly, Gene thought.

Yes, you’re lovely, with your smile so warm,

and your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me but to love you,

and the way you look tonight

Judy nuzzled her cheek against his, and suddenly they were dancing cheek to cheek, Gene swaying her back and forth. He could hear her humming against him; it was so sensual. Any sound that came out of Judy’s mouth was hypnotic.

“I’ve been wanting to dance all night with you, you know.”

“Oh, have you?”

“Yesss,” Judy hissed. Judy was melting into him.

“Why me?”

“Well, first of all, you’re the best dancer in this joint.”

“I guess I can’t protest against that.”

“And also,” Judy ran her hands up his chest, “I've been wanting to thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

Gene knew how much he helped her, especially during The Pirate. Whenever her and Vincente argued he was always there to comfort her; she confided in him. And even though Gene and Vincente became close partners during the shoot, Judy knew he could trust him. Their relationship stemmed from For Me and My Gal, and he would never do anything to upset her or rat her out.

“Of course Judy, I’d do anything for you.”

“Would you?”

Gene nodded and squeezed her hand in confirmation.

Gene whispered into her ear the lyrics playing,

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,

touches my foolish heart

Lovely; don’t you ever change,

Keep that breathless charm,

Won’t you please arrange it?

“Cause I love you,” Judy looked up at Gene. “Just the way you look tonight.”

Judy smiled wide at him, her eyes sparkling. The wrinkle in her nose was so adorable. She was so full of warmth, and the feeling of her against his body was delicious.

“This song fits the occasion perfectly,” Gene chimed into Judy’s ear, his nose grazing over her hair, smelling her perfume.

“Why’s that?”

“Like I said earlier. You look stunning, Judy.”

Judy was fishing for compliments. “So I don’t look good any other day?”

“Now you know I didn’t mean that. You always look beautiful, but tonight…” Gene whispered, “You look especially sexy.”

Judy giggled. “I must say you look very handsome as well.”

“Thank you. You’re also very flirty when you’re drunk.”

“No, I mean it,” Judy wrapped her hand around his neck. “Thanks for everything, really, even dancing with me. I’ve been going through a lot lately and it seems like you perfectly understand me, and I don’t even have to say anything at all sometimes.”

Gene knew Judy was being a bit vulnerable since she was drunk, but he did feel bad for her. He could give her the world, but it wasn’t possible; they both had separate lives, and significant others.

Gene and Judy continued to sway to the music for many minutes, occasionally taking a break for a few drinks, until Judy started to get tired. It was a few minutes past midnight.

“Darling, I’m getting tired. Can we leave?”

“I’m kind of tired myself, so yes. Let me drink some water first. You need some water too.”

“No, I’m allergic to water.”

“Judy,” Gene ran his hands down her arms. “Listen to me, you need some water. Come on.” He latched onto her hand, he sat her down at a table, and then he went to get some water.

Judy's senses were reeling. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was drunk or because her feelings were real, but it didn’t matter. She loved Gene, and she needed him. In the past few hours, she felt happier than she had in a long time. And those hours were after Vincente was gone. Dancing with Gene this evening did something to her; it increased her longing for him. Her previous feelings never really went away even though they pretty much agreed to end their affair at the end of filming. They elevated. She didn’t want the night to end… to have to leave Gene. She missed the days where they would see each other everyday and let out their frustrations in their trailers. Or when Gene would comfort her after filming ended for the day. It was very emotional to think about; she was torn, but she didn’t want to do anything she would regret.

Gene returned with two glasses of water. He handed the one to her. “Drink,” he instructed Judy. Judy grabbed the glass and sipped at it, stealing glances at Gene. When she was almost finished, they made eye contact.

Gene could see a twinkle in her eye, a look of desire. No, I can’t do this. He had a great time with her tonight too, and his feelings were just the same. Him and Betsy were doing well at the moment, but just one touch from Judy and he’d completely let his guard down, even if he didn’t want to. She was so hypnotic to him. Once she latched onto him with some sort of glance or quip she couldn’t escape his thoughts. Ever since he saw her walk into the club with her gorgeous, sexy outfit, he couldn’t get his mind off of her. Okay Gene, Vincente wants you to take her home. He trusts you. Don’t ruin it… Maybe there’ll be another time in the future.

“Judy, did you drink all of it?”

She tipped the glass vertically up in the air until all the remnants of the liquid were gone. Then, she set it down. “Ahh,” Judy let out a breath. “Yes Gene, I drank it all. Please don’t tell me you’re gonna give me more, because I won’t drink it.”

Gene thought about it. Just one glass of water will be adequate. She’s stubborn anyway. She’ll be fine.

“No, I’m not gonna give you anymore. When did you want to leave?”

“What time is it?”

“12:30.”

“We can stay for another 15 minutes, say our goodbyes, then leave.”

Judy and Gene sat down and socialized for another 15 minutes, saying goodbye to everyone. Their last stop was the bar. Gene also wanted to check on Frank.

Peter walked over to Gene while Judy was going around the circle. “Hey Gene!”

“Hey Pete, we’re heading out, I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Who’s we?”

“Judy and I.”

“Where’s Vince?”

“He felt a bit under the weather and left early, and Judy wanted to stay. He asked me to take her home.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. Wish you could stay longer.”

“No, I’ve been wanting to head out myself. I wasn’t wishing for another hangover after what happened last night.”

Peter laughed, remembering the chaos. “Don’t blame ya man. Drive safe.”

“Thanks bud. Also, where’s Frank? Last time I saw him he was pretty gone, just wanted to check on him.”

“Someone took him home, I don’t know who. It was pretty chaotic over here. Now that I remember, you were probably too busy dancing with Judy to notice, I’m assuming. He made a pretty big scene.”

Gene chuckled nervously. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Peter laughed. “That’s true. Alright man, I’ll see ya,” he shook Gene’s hand and they parted ways. Gene waited for Judy. Finally, she was finished.

“Ready kiddo?”

“Yes,” Judy replied, seemingly a bit tired.

Gene went over to the coat rack to grab her mink coat. Judy followed him and allowed him to put it on for her. As he put it on, he got the perfect view of her back. All he wanted to do at the moment was run his tongue all over it. Stop it, Gene. However, he couldn’t completely control himself. He leaned in close to her neck, letting the pleasant scent of her fill his nostrils.

He whispered into her ear, gently, “After you.”

Judy was a bit startled, but in a pleasant way. She had nervous butterflies. Does Gene feel the same way I do right now? His lips so close to her cheek made her skin tingle, and she felt even more pleasant since she was still quite a bit tipsy. Gene held the door open for her and she walked out.

“Thank you sir.”

Gene bowed playfully, with gratitude. “Anything for the charming, beautiful date I had the privilege to be with tonight.”

Judy giggled, smiling. Gene held his arm out to her, and she locked hers with his. It wasn’t too dangerous of a move, it was only innocent. But they both knew deep inside that this physical touch might trigger something more.

They finally reached Gene’s car. He grabbed his keys and unlocked it, opening the door for Judy. Helping her in the car, she easily sat down. Before he shut the door, he stole a glance at her slim legs and stilettos. He loved her legs.

Opening the door on his side, he plopped down in his seat and started the ignition. He sat there for a moment, realizing he was almost out of gas.

“Fuck,” Gene muttered, annoyed.

“What is it?”

“I gotta get gas. I’m on E.”

“Do you think you can get me home before that?”

“No, I’m sorry, we’re gonna have to go get some.”

Judy didn’t mind. The more time with Gene the better.

“No, it’s totally fine Gene. Besides, I get to spend more time with you.”

Gene raised his eyebrows at her, pointing at himself. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“Never.” Judy flirtatiously responded, tapping his nose with her finger. He loved when she did things like this. But, it only increased the tension between them.

“Are you fit to drive buster?” Judy asked, breaking the silence.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you were drinking.”

“I drank more water than you and drank less alcohol than you, and you seem fine.”

Judy sat there for a moment, trying to think of what to say. “I’m still a little tipsy, but I feel great. Just in case, how many fingers am I holding up?” Judy held up her two fingers.

Gene laughed at how cute she was. “You know that isn’t a true test Judy. I see your two fingers,” he moved his hand to put her fingers down. His hand was now covering hers, on her lap. When he didn’t move them, Judy slowly intertwined her fingers with his. She gazed at him with nervous excitement but tried to hide it.

“It’d probably work on Frank,” Judy quipped.

“Yes, you’re probably right about that one.”

Gene pulled out of his parking spot, fingers still intertwined with hers. She turned on the radio, and “The Way You Look Tonight” was playing. Gene involuntarily squeezed her hand; it brought him back to the intimate dancing they did only hours before.

“Hey, what do ya know? And it’s Crosby! Turn it up.”

Judy turned up the volume. She felt Gene squeeze her hand moments before. He must really think I look good tonight.

The song ended right when they arrived at the gas station. Gene let go of her hand to turn off the ignition.

“Alright honey, I’ll be just a second.”

While Gene was pumping the gas, Judy’s mind was reeling again. Her gut was telling her something was about to happen, between her and Gene. And she had this sense that Gene was sensing the same thing too.

When Gene finished, he got back into the car and began to drive off. The weather was perfect outside, so he rolled down his window.

“You should roll down yours too.”

Judy began to roll down hers. The cool air hitting her face felt so refreshing. She closed her eyes and delighted in the feeling.

Gene looked over at her, and was happy to see her enjoying herself so much. And she looked so beautiful. The pale glow of the moon reflecting off her face, along with her beautifully shaped side profile… her upturned nose and her lips… Who could resist that?

“Hey, you wanna go stargazing or something?”

Judy opened her eyes wide and turned to Gene. “What?”

“Go stargazing. It’s beautiful outside. We don’t have to for long, but it’s such a clear sky, we can see the stars so clearly. If you want we can lay out on some grass, I have a blanket in my trunk. Or we can just sit in the car. I think we’d have a better view outside the car though.”

Judy contemplated the idea. It does sound lovely… but will Vincente be worried? She honestly didn’t care what he thought but she just didn’t want to start another argument with him. Gene read her thoughts.

“I won’t get you home too late. Besides, it’s only about 1 o’ clock. We don’t have to stay for long.”

Judy’s mind said no, but her heart… and body… said yes. To lay with Gene in the stars was a dream come true.

“I’d love to. And I agree, we’d get a better view on grass or something.” Judy smiled at him bashfully, but full of charm. It went right to Gene’s heart, and also his groin.

“I know the perfect place.”

Gene kept driving for about 5 minutes, until he went over a bridge and they arrived at a park, with surrounding trees and benches. He turned the car off and walked over to open Judy’s door, helping her out. He opened the trunk to grab a blanket.

“There’s one spot where you can see them very well, but we’ll have to walk. Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, but let me just kick off these heels. My feet are killing me.”

Judy playfully kicked her stilettos off, them flying a few feet in front of them. Gene laughed at her silliness. He went over to pick them up for her. “I can carry them for you.”

“Thank you darling.”

Gene led Judy to a patch of forest. Judy felt uneasy. It was pretty dark in there, you could barely see.

“Now we just have to walk through this.”

“What?!” Judy asked him, petrified. “You don’t know what’s in there Gene!”

Gene grabbed her hand assuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fine. There won’t be any flying monkeys or anything.”

Judy couldn’t help but laugh at his joke, and it put her at ease. “Well, if there is any, I’m letting them take you first.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Maybe some chicken hawk will swoop down on you and carry YOU away.”

“Gene, you’re such a ham,” she playfully hit his chest. The Pirate reference hit them both in the heart. Memories of their romantic rendezvouses flooded back to them. Neither of them knew what was in store for the next few minutes but they were willing to take that chance; they didn’t want to leave each other.

“Okay, be quiet.”

Gene led Judy through the forest for about a minute. The moon lit up the defined trail they walked on, which settled Judy’s nerves. Suddenly, an open field appeared in front of them, revealing the most perfect view of the sky.

“Ahh,” Gene breathed out in success. “What did I tell you?”

“Alright, sorry for not trusting you at first.”

“Apology accepted.”

Gene laid the blanket out on the ground, sat down, and patted it, gesturing for her to sit down. He put her shoes near his feet. Judy came over and sat down next to Gene.

“I’m honestly a little hot, would you help me take this off?”

Gene nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He grasped the edges of her mink coat, pulling it off, revealing her in that sexy dress again. Shit. Gene could feel his pants starting to bulge. He couldn’t help it. His mind didn’t want to go there… and he didn’t want to do anything with her, out of respect, but just seeing her like this threw away any sort of self control he possessed.

Judy really wasn’t that hot; maybe a bit from the previous alcohol but otherwise she was fine. She knew that Gene was really affected by her outfit. My God, he only complimented me a million times. She wanted him to make a move on her. She missed their intimacy even though it was wrong. But in her heart, and based on the way her body felt, it felt anything but wrong. Butterflies coursed through her stomach.

Gene folded the coat and put it down by her shoes. Judy laid completely down, stretching out. Watching her, he got a full view of her body; from her feet up to her waist and breasts. She’s really trying to make me cave isn’t she? She yawned.

“I could just sit here and sleep, it’s so peaceful.”

“Yes it is,” Gene replied. “And also no one else is here. I kind of got a headache from how loud it was at the Mocambo.”

“I didn’t actually, when we were dancing all the sound seemed to blot out…” Judy looked at him longingly. “It was peaceful for me then, in a different way. It was like I was able to escape all my problems by just swaying with you to the lovely music.”

“Yes, I guess so. I’m glad you felt that way. I felt the same way too, and I confirmed it when we left because Pete told me Frank created a chaotic scene at the bar,” Gene paused, “He ended up leaving, but neither of us noticed. We were too busy… dancing.”

Judy looked at him surprised. “So that’s why we couldn’t say goodbye to him?” She chuckled. “That’s Frankie for ya.” She sat there for a few more moments in silence. “You’re right, we were too distracted.”

Gene leaned back to lay down with her. He kicked his one foot over his other and crossed his arms behind his head, resting peacefully under the starlit sky and crescent moon. They kept stealing glances at each other through the corners of their eyes; the silence increased their tension, but also made it tranquil.

Judy pointed to the left, over Gene. “Isn’t that the Big Dipper?”

Gene's eyes followed in the direction she was pointing. “Yes, good job. And that's Orion,” Gene pointed over her to the right. “See the three stars in a row?”

“Yes,” Judy squinted at it. “I’ve never noticed that one before.”

“Really?”

“No,” Judy continued, “I haven’t done something like this in awhile. I’ve always been so busy and stressed out.” She placed her hand over Gene’s, turned, and gazed into his eyes. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome sweetheart.”

Judy snuggled in towards his chest. Gene’s heart started to beat a million miles per minute. I hope she doesn’t notice. He slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, however in a loose manner. They continued to sit in perfect tranquility.

He looked down at Judy. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, her eyes closed. He noticed her beautiful eyelashes resting against her eyelids. The natural light from the sky lit up her face, accentuating her highlights. The bridge of her cute nose, her cheekbones, and her Cupid’s Bow were even more beautiful than before. Wow.

“Judy?” Gene whispered. No response. “Dorothy? Springtime? Manuela?” Judy stirred and started to smile.

“What’s with you and the picture references?”

Gene chuckled, happy she was awake. “They all bring me back to you.”

“Why do you need to come back to me?”

Judy knew she was making the situation uncomfortable, but what Gene said really stunned her. This almost confirmed that Gene was feeling the same way she was.

Gene sat there in silence, and then sighed. “Darling, memories of you just elate me.”

“What memories?”

Gene almost choked on air. She was really digging into his soul. Not only with her words, but with her pleading eyes.

“Oh, well, there’s so many,” Gene responded slowly, thinking of the right words, “Most recently our last picture.”

Judy inwardly smiled. She knew it now. They felt the same way. Memories of him consoling her, comforting her… pleasuring her, rushed into her mind. And the same thing was happening to Gene.

“You know Gene…” Judy whispered, hardly audible, “I feel the same way.”

Gene exhaled, his heart beating faster now. He couldn’t take it anymore. The tension was too much to bear. He started to lightly stroke her forehead, his hands slowly running through her gorgeous curls.

Judy knew he was flustered; she could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His hands running through her locks felt heavenly. She wanted to fall asleep again, but didn’t want to waste the precious moment and opportunity. Inch by inch, she moved up to meet his face; Gene was hypnotized. Her bare moonlit skin contrasted with her black dress. The curve of her hip while she laid on her side so close to him was in his plain view. He felt his hand inching towards it, wrapping up around her back to pull her in closer. They both looked at each other, eyes clouded with anticipation, waiting for the other to do something. Judy wrapped her one arm around his neck, while her other elbow propped her up next to him. Shivers went down Gene’s spine as her slender fingers cradled the nape of his neck.

They didn’t have to say anything. Their touches and gazes said more than words ever could. Judy longed for Gene; with him she could escape reality… but that wasn’t the only reason. He met her every need in the perfect way. She knew he always wanted the best for her, and he did everything in his will power for that to happen. If Judy needed to talk on the phone late at night? He would answer. If she needed comfort on the lot? He would meet her. If she needed backup? He would do his damndest to help her get her way. Did he always understand? No, he didn’t have to. Did he ever say no to her? Never….

They were so close they could feel each other’s breath against each other’s lips. Gene smelled the faint scent of alcohol coming from her… Was it her or the alcohol doing this? As if Judy could tell what he was thinking, the grip she had on his neck became tighter, letting him know this is what she wanted. She leaned her head in, inching closer to Gene’s lips. Gene tried to keep his eyes open, to witness the beauty of her face before she kissed him. Her eyes were closed, lips were parted… for some reason her face wasn’t lit from the moon anymore. It got a lot darker outside; the ambiance was so sensual, full of passion. The thickness in the air, awaiting her kiss, was choking his senses…

Right before Judy met his mouth, a huge boom shook the ground. Judy shrieked. They both immediately sat up. The sky was dark and the moon and stars were blocked by clouds. Rain started to pour on them.

They both came back to reality. “You’re really scared of storms, aren’t you?”

“Hell yes,” Judy replied in confirmation. They made eye contact; they could both see how flustered they were, their chests rising and falling rapidly. “I could tell you about this story that happened when I was little but I don’t feel like boring you with that. We’d better go. My coat is gonna get all wet.”

They both quickly stood up and Judy grabbed her shoes and coat, while Gene folded the blanket.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Gene and Judy ran through the forest, back to the park, and to the car. Gene fiddled with his keys while the rain drenched them. He stuck the key into the keyhole and unlocked the car. Both of them plopped onto the seats, and Gene threw the blanket in the backseat. Trying to catch their breath, they sat there in silence while Gene turned on the car.

“Cold?” Gene breathed.

Judy nodded. Gene turned on the heat, it immediately kicking on. After a minute, Gene took a deep breath and sighed.

“What are the chances of that happening?”

“It didn’t look like it was going to rain at all. It was so clear outside.”

“Maybe it was nature telling us to go home,” Gene chuckled. “What time is it anyway?”

“Don’t know,” Judy glanced at the time on the clock. It was two in the morning.

“As much as I don’t really want to go home… You should take me. It doesn’t seem this late though. Sure your clock’s right?”

“Yeah, it’s right.” Gene put the car in reverse and began to pull out of the park, back onto the road.

It was almost silent the whole car ride. Neither of them looked at each other, they were almost too nervous too. I can’t believe it, Gene thought. They almost started to make out back there, or at least that’s what would’ve happened. Gene wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. Why is it so hard for me to resist her?

Judy’s insides were tingling. She was having the same thoughts. But she honestly didn’t care. She wanted it. She needed it. Why did it have to rain?

Gene turned right onto Judy’s street. Approaching her house, he put the car in park and turned off the ignition. Rain streamed heavily down his windshield and all the windows. They couldn’t even see outside.

“I don’t even want to open the door, I’ll get soaked,” Judy said, defeated.

“You’re already soaked.”

Judy eyed Gene, annoyed. “Not that bad. My hair’s a little messy but otherwise I’m fine. Sitting in here dried me a little bit. I’m not about to go back in that downpour.”

“Suit yourself.”

Gene turned the key in the ignition slightly so they could play the radio and keep the heat on. The awkward silence was terrible.

Judy wanted to break it. “Are you going home after I leave?”

Gene’s rapid thoughts about what had happened in the field were interrupted. “Yes. Tomorrow I wanted to just relax and do stuff at home. I didn’t want to be out super late and I didn’t want to drink a ton, I had a wicked hangover this morning.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I’ll let you leave,” Judy turned to reach for the door handle. Gene leaned over and grasped her hand.

“No, Judy, it’s fine,” Gene said quickly. “What I meant was out late drinking. It’s not even that late for me. Don’t worry about it. I don’t want you to get sick going out in that pouring rain right now.”

Judy smiled tenderly at him, intertwining her fingers with his slowly. “No, I need to stop being such a baby. I’ll be fine. I’m tired anyway, and I’m sure you are too. Thank you so much for everything. I’ve had such a wonderful night.”

Gene smiled back at her. She’s so adorable. “Okay, if you insist. Maybe I’ll see you around soon.” He slightly squeezed her hand.

“Yes, I hope so. I’ve haven’t seen you since our last picture. That’s why I like making pictures together… we see each other almost everyday.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Yeah.”

Judy didn’t have anything else to say. She looked around and started to reach for the door handle with her other hand. Gene took the hand he was holding and kissed her knuckles. The sensation sent shivers throughout her body. She tensed a bit; Gene felt it.

“Anything wrong?”

“No, I’m just dreading opening the door.”

“Take your time, whenever you’re ready.”

Judy fiddled with her coat on her lap. Her shoes were drenched on her feet. She was pretty sure her feet were covered in mud and dirt, but she didn’t care. She felt bad for keeping him here, but the last thing she wanted to do was leave. However, it seemed as if there were no other option.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna open the door now.”

“Alright, have a good night Judy.”

Judy turned towards him. She leaned in to give him a friendly hug, then pulled back. With her one hand on his shoulder, she whispered, “Thank you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. His lips lingered against her skin, his hot breath warming her cheek. He felt Judy relax, her fingers less tense in his.

After a few seconds he pulled away from her face. Even though they got drenched a few minutes ago at the park, her makeup still looked perfect, and her hair looked beautifully messy. And her outfit was still sexy.

Judy sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna go now.” She looked out the window, dreading leaving. It started to rain harder; the rain pellets slamming against the car were now deafening.

“Ugh,” Judy groaned quietly.

Gene’s mind was on overdrive. All he wanted to do now was kiss her sweet lips. He didn’t get the chance to when stargazing. Why not now?

“Wait, Judy, you aren’t gonna leave without giving me that kiss back, are you?”

Judy faced him, laughing nervously. “Oh yeah, sorry about that.” She slowly leaned in, tilted her head, and tenderly pecked his lips. It had more of an effect on her than she thought it would; she didn’t want to pull away, but she knew she had to.

“Is that okay?” Judy puffed out against him, suddenly seeing his eyes full of desire. Her face turned blank. Their mouths were only a few inches apart. Even though she only pecked him her mouth was tingling from the feel of his lips.

“No,” Gene breathed softly.

“What?” Judy furrowed her eyebrows at him.

Gene tilted his head a bit and was leaning towards Judy. His arm started to trail around her waist, his lips parted. This time Judy saw his gorgeous face, full of passion, with his sexy scar.  She closed her eyes and parted her lips too.

Gene stopped right before he met her lips, wondering whether or not this was right. It was right. Gene, too eager to think about the consequences, met Judy’s lips with fervor. He heard and felt the vibration of her satisfying groan against him. She let go of his hand and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Thank God the rain was pouring; no one would be able to see clearly inside the car. Yet, no one was probably outside anyway in this weather.

Her mink coat steadily fell on the car floor and she repositioned herself, kneeling on the car seat, Gene doing the same on his side. Gene tugged and pulled against her luscious lips; he was so hungry for them.

“Mmmm,” Gene moaned in response to her passion. She was pulling at his neck, shivers coursing throughout his body. He felt his erection growing. Despite the fact that Judy always turned him on, this time he really felt the love she had for him over the desire; this kiss was filled with feeling, unspoken words, and longing. His heart filled with warmth and giddiness.

Judy was so glad he finally kissed her. She felt his passion and love for her as well through the kiss. It couldn’t be any more perfect. Although she started to get aroused, she felt more emotional than anything else. His lips tugged at hers in sincerity, love, and care.

After making out for about five minutes, they both needed more. Gene felt his hands moving towards her breasts, cupping them through her dress. Judy moaned in reply, leaning into his hands. Then, his hands trailed to her sides, going down towards her ass. She felt him pulling her up off the seat, cupping her bottom. He placed her on top of him. He picked her up as if she were a feather.

Gene leaned the seat back a bit so she wouldn’t beep the horn on accident. He latched onto her for dear life, afraid somehow she might disappear. His hands roamed everywhere; all over her curves, he kneaded her sides, her ass, her breasts. Sparks of arousal shot down between Judy’s legs.

Judy cupped his face, and nudged her tongue into his mouth. He gladly accepted it and passionately intertwined it with hers. He massaged her tongue so sensually, rhythmically, matching the movements with his caresses. He tried to emit every inch of love he had for her through his touch. Judy did the same, running her hands through his hair, down his neck, and along his chest.

Gene pulled back for a second to catch his breath. “I’ve missed you, Judy.”

Judy latched onto his lips again, sucking them between hers. “Trust me, I did too. And it wasn’t just because of this.”

Gene growled against her lips, slowly tracing them with his tongue, then plunging in again. They were getting even more heated even faster. Judy’s hands began traveling towards his groin. But, Gene didn’t want anything further to happen; although he wanted to fuck the daylights out of her, he didn’t want it to be a quickie in the car. He quickly pulled her hands away, intertwining his fingers into hers.

Judy accepted it, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. Her heart was pounding and her chest was heaving; she felt lightheaded from the tingles she was feeling. She felt her nipples peeking and her center aching. She began to rock against him slowly, brushing over his erection. It felt so good. But, Gene held her still. She whimpered.

“Touch me, Gene,” Judy whimpered pleadingly, grabbing his face, staring into him. “Please.”

Gene was torn. He could barely resist her begging, but he didn’t want to make love to her, for good reason. He was returning her to her husband, and it didn’t feel right when Vincente had his trust. And once again, he didn’t want just a quickie with her at the moment.

He smashed his lips against her once more, silencing her. Then he pulled back. “Judy,” he panted. “I don’t want to have just a quickie in the car.” He leaned in to kiss her neck lovingly. “And I know that you, deep down, wouldn’t want that either.”

Judy sat back for a minute, brushing her sweaty, messy hair out of her face. “Yes, you’re right,” Judy admitted. Her core was aching so bad. “But,” she squeezed his hands pleadingly, “Please touch me. I promise it won’t go any further. I’ve missed having intimacy with you. If you don’t want me to touch you that’s fine, but please, Gene.”

She gave him such an irresistible, seductive, yet innocent look. He thought for a second. Can I control myself? I want to please her… but is it right?

“Are you sure Judy?”

She let go of his hands and pulled at his neck tie, bringing his mouth to hers. “Yesss,” she hissed, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning into him and meeting his lips. At this point, he couldn’t say no to her.

He ran his hands up and down her sides, then flipped her around. She sat on his lap, leaning back against him. Hands hovering her breasts, he started to circle her peaks. Judy couldn’t help but lean her head back against his shoulder, relishing in pleasure. She let out a moan.

“Yes Gene,” Judy puffed out. She ran her one hand behind his neck, rubbing it. Then, he took one hand away from her breast and lightly brushed the outline of her arm and side with his fingertips, back and forth. He knew she loved this kind of touch.

Judy’s senses were on overdrive. His touch made her shiver with pleasure, but made her heart full of warmth.

Gene planted wet kisses and licks onto her neck and he continued to touch her rib cage and then down to her navel. He got the perfect view of her body, in the sexy black dress she was wearing; it was almost too much to bear. Even though he loved it, he wanted to rip it right off. Hands trailing down to her hips, he loved the little sounds of anticipation she was making.

“Please Gene,” Judy begged. “More.”

His hands approached her legs, running his hands up and down her thighs. Each movement up he pulled up her dress even more, so he could have access to her inner thighs and center. He could feel her breathing in short, shallow breaths. She tensed up a bit as he met her inner thighs.

“Relax Judy,” Gene whispered into her ear, biting her earlobe. “You wanted this, so just take it in.”

He ran his palms along the upmost part of her inner thighs, touching where her thighs met her sex. Her dress was far enough up now to where he could touch her most intimate spot. His hand hovered her core.

Judy was throbbing by this point. She couldn’t control her breathing. Being intimate with Gene was different compared to any other man she was with; even her husband. Vincente and her lost their spark a while ago, mostly after she had Liza. Despite that, Gene always made her feel something no other man did. He put pleasing her and tending to her needs first. She felt so free and sexy with him; she never restrained herself. Just a touch from him could heighten her senses, when a touch from anyone else would feel like nothing.

Gene lightly touched her mound through her panties. Then, his hand went down further. He felt how wet she was; she was soaked through the cotton fabric. He felt his erection grow even more. Judy moaned at his touch, and the fact that she could feel his erection pressing against her bottom.

“Baby,” Gene growled in response. He pulled his hand away and then gripped the hem of her pantries, slipping his hand inside. He collected her arousal on his fingers and began to rub her pearl in intimate circles.

“Gene,” Judy moaned into his ear. He kissed her neck slowly, letting his lips linger.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stop.”

Gene kept at it, running his fingers up and down her slick folds. He felt her melting into him more and more as he circled her bud. He took his free hand and ran it up to her breast, circling it through her dress, in a rhythm matching his caresses on her core. Judy sighed in pleasure, running her hands along his neck and into his hair. The continued rain pelting on the car was deafening, but Gene and Judy were so focused on each other that the sound drowned out.

Gene continued his caresses, running his lips along her cheek. Her face looked beautiful; she looked angelic. Her lips were parted, and her eyes were closed. She had the most perfect face shape.

He moved his leg a bit under her to spread her legs wider. She felt even more euphoric than before. She thought she’d die from the sensations. Gene started to move his fingers faster; he felt her get even more soaked and swollen.

Looking down at her, he saw her brows starting to furrow. He made his caresses even faster, and he felt Judy lean even more against him. Wanting to kiss her when she came, he pressed his lips into her, slipping his tongue inside. He felt her tense up; he knew it was time.

Judy was sweating so bad; he made her feel so good. And his lips on hers triggered her orgasm; a wave of pleasure flooded her senses, until it kept coming in more waves. She moaned loudly into his mouth, her hands gripping onto him for dear life. He continued to caress her nipple and her bud, faster now, helping her ride out her orgasm. She involuntarily jerked her bottom against his pelvis. Gene almost came from her movements, and her contractions near his finger. She looked so sexy; her sounds made it even better.

Judy was finally sated, and she let out a sigh. Gene removed his hands from her.

“Aching anymore?”

Judy shook her head.

“I could tell how horny you were.”

Judy laughed weakly. “Well, you do something to me, darling, that no one else can.”

“Same here.”

Judy met her lips with his once more. You couldn’t fit a sheet of paper between them, their bodies melted together. Gene’s erection was ever-growing, but he didn’t want her to do anything. He thought it would be best to let her leave… even though he was in agony.

Almost instantly, the rain settled down, and the car became visible inside again. It was the perfect signal for her to leave. Gene gently pushed her chest, moving her away from him.

“Alright Judy, you better go.” He glanced over at his clock. It was 3 am. Judy eyed it too.

“Holy shit, time flies.”

“Yes, when you’re with someone you love.”

Judy smiled warmly at his comment. She met his lips again once more in a tender kiss, then she moved off of him back into the passenger seat. She grabbed her coat off the floor.

“Thank you again Gene. I had a lovely night.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Gene grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.

Judy noticed his prominent erection bulging through his pants before she got out of the car. She giggled.

“What?”

“I’m sorry about… that.”

She pointed to his groin. Gene looked down and laughed.

“Don’t worry about it honey.”

“I’ll be returning the favor next time,” Judy replied, raising her eyebrow at him with suggestion.

“Sounds good to me.”

Judy leaned in once more and pecked him on the lips. “Okay, I hope to see you soon.”

“Me too,” Gene replied smiling, turning on the ignition. Judy grasped the door handle and opened the door, getting out of it slowly. She looked at him.

“Goodbye, Gene.”

“Goodbye, Judy.”

#jugenea #judy garland #gene kelly #fan fiction #fanfiction #i loved writing this one #sort of just let my mind flow ideas

[songtoyou]

Chapter 7: No Such Thing As Good News

Tolerate It

Paring: Modern!Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Story Rating: R (No minors should read this fic).

Word Count: 2,373

Warnings: Swearing

Description: Tommy Shelby is the owner and CEO of Shelby Company Limited. Starting out as a Bookmaker, Tommy had big ideas to expand his riches. In the past ten years, the company has grown rapidly to expand its business ventures from bars to producing alcohol, manufacturing motor vehicle parts, and exporting. One of the richest men in Great Britain, Tommy Shelby, has it all. Unfortunately, the death of his wife, Grace, left the multi-millionaire mogul alone and depressed. He needed someone to fulfill his needs and deepest darkest desires.

Chapter Summary: Rose wakes up the morning after the gala and her night with Tommy. She meets Isaiah Jesus, who takes her back home. Tommy wants to know more about Louis. We find out that Alfie continues to be a double-crossing little shit. Our favorite Italian mobster catches wind of Tommy taking away his favorite “toy.”

A/N: This chapter was fun to write and brings a lot of new plot development to the story. 

Italics represent past conversations. 

I do not permit my work to be posted on any other site without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​ 

The remainder of the night was not a quiet or restful one for Rose. No, Tommy still had needs that he wanted to be met. While the first session was the most intense, the rest after were a tad tamer. Well, as tame as it came when dealing with Tommy Shelby. It was like the man didn’t have the words soft and slow in his vocabulary. Rose noted that when it came to actual sex with Tommy, everything had to be fast and hard. He seemed to take great pleasure in prolonging Rose’s orgasm or retreating just when she was at her peak. It was a long, drawn-out game for Tommy. 

Tommy had Rose on her back, stomach, knees, and on top of him. For a man who was a notorious chain smoker, his stamina was off the charts. He seemed to finally wear himself out by 3 p.m. With Rose on her stomach and head tucked into the pillow, she was quickly falling asleep. She could feel the light caress of Tommy’s hand up-and-down her back. It was as if the gentle act were lulling him to sleep, and soon Rose could hear his soft snores. 

Rose opened her eyes to look at the man sleeping next to her. With the room dark, she could only vaguely make out Tommy’s features. She was able to see a hint of softness to him as he soundly slept. Turning over on her side, Rose pulled up the blankets and fell asleep.

By morning, Rose was awoken by the curtains being drawn back. The blinding sunlight permeated the room. “What the bloody Hell,” Rose groaned and covered her face with the pillow. “It’s too bright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss,” spoke a female voice. “Here, let me close them a little.”

Uncovering her head, Rose looked to see what looked to be a housekeeper in the bedroom. 

“Hi, I’m Rose,” she introduced herself to the older woman who appeared to have a friendly disposition. 

“Hello, I’m Annie. Mr. Shelby’s housekeeper. I apologize for walking in on you. Must have slipped Mr. Shelby’s mind when he left for work this morning.”

“What! He’s gone? What time is it?” Rose asked, looking for a clock.

“It’s ten in the morning, dear. Would you like me to fix you some coffee or tea?” Annie asked sweetly. 

Rose was about to get up but realized she was still naked. She could not believe she overslept or that Tommy left without any sense of ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you later.’

“No, thank you. I…if you don’t mind, need to take a shower. Then I will be on my way.”

Annie nodded her head and left Rose alone in the guest bedroom. With the door shut, Rose tossed the covers off of her and grabbed her to-go bag. She pulled out her toiletries, some underwear, socks, a bra, along with jeans and a t-shirt. She also hauled out her running shoes and tossed them on the floor. 

For a guest bedroom, the bathroom was huge with a standing tub and walk-in shower. If Rose didn’t have somewhere else to be, she would have opted for a bubble bath. Looking at herself in the mirror, Rose traced every bruise, love bite, and red marks that were plastered over her body. 

“He always leaves his mark,” Rose said to herself. She turned on the shower and stepped inside.

The hot water helped ease the soreness Rose was feeling all throughout her body. She lightly washed away any dried fluids that were left on her. Rose more than noticed the soreness between her legs, which would take a while to subside.

When Rose was finished showering, she dried herself and put on her clothes. She did one more look around to make sure she had everything, sent off a quick text to Louis letting him know she was okay and headed downstairs.

Annie warmly greeted her, “I hung up your dress by the door. It is inside the garment cover. I put your shoes in there as well.” 

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much. Uh, when did Mr. Shelby leave this morning?”

“The same time he always does, about six o’clock,” the housekeeper answered. “He told me to let you sleep in, but I was unaware of which room you would be in.”

“Yeah, yeah, look, I have to get going,” said Rose and retrieved the garment bag. She slung her to-go back over her shoulder and walked outside the townhouse.

Before Rose could head down the street towards the Tube, an unknown voice called out to get her attention.

“Ms. Turner,” said the voice.

Rose turned around to see a young black man leaning next to a car. She had seen him around previously outside of her house or place of work. Rose suspected this was one of Tommy’s guys he ordered to look after her. 

“Yes. What do you want?” she asked, not moving.

“Mr. Shelby told me that you would need a ride back home. I’m Isaiah Jesus,” he said, extending his hand out. When he noticed that Rose’s hands were full, he offered to take her garment bag.

“Thank you. I guess you won’t need directions to my house since I have seen you around,” she said, walking to the car. 

Isaiah opened the trunk and put in Rose’s belongings, and ushered to the backseat door, but Rose cut in, saying, “Do you mind if I sit in the front seat?”

“Not a problem, mam,” replied Isaiah with a smile and opened the passenger door for Rose.

The ride back home was quiet except for the sound of music coming from the car stereo. To cut the quietness, Rose decided to speak up. “How long have you worked for Tommy?”

“For a long time,” Isaiah answered.

“How old are you?”

Isaiah laughed, “I’m 21, mam.”

“Okay, you’re sweet, but knock it off with the whole ‘mam’ thing. Call me Rose, okay.”

“As you wish, Rose. My family, well, my father to be exact, has known the Shelby’s a long time. My father’s family immigrated from the Caribbean to England. He met Tommy, Arthur, and John while serving during the War in Afghanistan back in 2006,” Isaiah shared and went on, “It was not the time to be over there, that is for sure. The arrival of the British soldiers in the southern province of Helmand was met with violence from the reviving Taliban. The Afghanis made sure to let our soldiers know that they were not welcomed over there. My dad, his name is Jeremiah, did not come back the same after that, neither did Tommy or his brothers.”

Rose could not believe this young man was telling her all of this, such revealing information. It all started making more sense to her with Tommy’s behavior. He had all of the signs of someone living with post-traumatic stress. And then top it off with his wife, the person he most likely felt comfortable and vulnerable around, diagnosed unexpectedly with cancers, and then dying. No wonder Tommy was the way he was.

“Wait, your dad is Jeremiah Jesus?”

“Yeah,” Isaiah responded, looking over at Rose.

“I have seen him on the news lately. He leads many of the Black Lives Matter demonstrations,” noted Rose.

Isaiah beamed with pride, “That would be him. He’s amazing. Definitely the type of voice and leader we need right now.”

“Yeah, my son has become more socially active at school and around our community. It is a good thing. I want him to be aware of his privileges and use them for good causes,” Rose responded fondly. 

When Isaiah pulled into Rose’s neighborhood, he parked the car in front of her house. Both got out of the car, and Isaiah helped retrieve Rose’s belongings from the trunk. 

“Thank you, Isaiah, for driving me home. It was nice not having to take the Tube.”

“No problem, Rose. It is my job, after all. I have to get back to London, but someone will be around to look over your house. Have a nice rest of your day,” said Isaiah and tipped his hat to Rose, and retreated back to the car.

Rose walked up to the front door to unlock it and went inside her home. In the car, Isaiah pulled out his phone to call Tommy. By the second ring, Tommy picked it up. “She home?” he asked.

“Yes, Tommy, she is just walked in her house right now,” replied Isaiah, looking over at the house. 

“Okay, good. Once Darren shows up, you can leave,” Tommy instructed Isaiah.

Hanging up the phone, Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. When he let it out, he sat back down at his desk. Truth be told, Tommy did feel bad leaving Rose to wake up alone that morning. But he had to get to work. He knew she needed the rest from the previous night. Tommy did not know why, but when he was with Rose, he became a different person. It was as if he felt freer. More relaxed. More willing to pursue his darker desires than he ever had before. The way Tommy was with Rose, he was never like that with Lizzie. 

He was not quite sure what made the two women different. Lizzie, he noticed she would never push back, never quite challenge him. With Rose, he could see there was a fire in her. Tommy especially noticed it last night when she turned the tables on him during his line of questioning. For a second, she caught him off guard but managed to recover quickly. Rose was also more open to his sexual fantasies, whereas Lizzie was never that hardcore. Yes, he and Lizzie would experiment with role-playing or bondage, but it was never to the level he had with Rose. 

There was something about Rose that Tommy could not quite put his finger on. While he knew most everything about the woman, he still felt that he didn’t “know her.” That feeling bothered him. He was a man who liked to know everything about everyone and anything. Rose’s son was a factor that he did not know much about. 

According to information Tommy gathered, Louis was sixteen years old and attended public school. His birthday was July 3, 2003. He currently was in his 11th year at school, with next year being he would enter as a lower 6th. While his grades were decent, he was active with after-school sports like football or basketball. All in all, Tommy needed to determine if Rose’s son was a liability. He needed to meet the kid himself to determine if that was a fact.

Once Rose settled down at home, she opened her laptop and looked through her work email. Rose’s boss, Linda, wouldn’t be in the office today. She had to take her husband to a doctor’s appointment. So Rose knew she could get away with not physically being in the office that morning. However, Rose did not foresee herself oversleeping and missing much of the day’s work. She emailed Linda, letting her know that she was not feeling well that morning. Thankfully, Linda believed Rose and told her to rest up. 

What caught Rose off guard was when Linda mentioned how beautiful she looked last night. 

‘What the fuck,’ Rose said to herself, confused. She reached for her phone and saw the mass of text messages from friends and even her mother, Pam. All wrote how gorgeous she looked at the gala and congratulated her on “bagging” Tommy Shelby. The text from her mother stood out amongst the rest. Pam said she wanted to see Rose and Louis and planned to make a London trip sometime soon. Nothing indicating if Rose’s dad, Geoffrey, would join Pam on the trip. While Rose’s relationship with her mother was somewhat cordial, her relationship with her father was practically non-existent. Geoffrey more than let it be known that he wanted nothing to do with his daughter or grandson. It was one of the big reasons why Rose left Blackpool.

Against Rose’s better judgment, she googled Tommy Shelby. Low and behold, there was an array of articles about him with the mystery woman from last night’s gala, with pictures to boot. A part of her knew this would happen but didn’t quite expect this much attention from her friends, boss, or mother. Thankfully, news in England never lasted longer than 24 hours. Soon, a new shiny toy would be dangled in the face of the nation, and Rose would, literally, be yesterday’s news. She only had about a couple more hours to wait until more important and titillating news came along. 

With a slam of his fist to the desk, Luca Changretta was more than upset. He was angry once he caught sight of the pictures. Luca thought Alfie Solomons was lying when he said that Tommy Shelby had taken something from the Italian mobster. The Jewish gangster never quite stated what it was that Tommy had taken.

“Trust me, mate. You will find out soon enough, eh,” Alfie told Luca over the phone a while back. 

“You better not be fucking with me, Solomons. I know you enjoy playing games with Tommy, but I am no fool,” Luca sneered into the phone.

Alfie just laughed, “I’m not fucking with you. No, I wouldn’t do that to ya. I think our boy Tommy needs a reminder of his place, don’t you think. The lad has gotten a bit too big for his britches. Good ol’ Tom thinks he can take anything he wants with no consequences.”

“Again, Solomons, why should I care what Tommy Shelby does?”

“Well, come Thursday morning, be sure to check the London news. Then you will see. Be sure to call me when you do,” Alfie instructed and hung up the phone.

Luca’s first instinct was to brush Alfie off. The man was always playing tricks. However, there was a part of Luca that was intrigued to find out what Alfie was talking about. The pictures of Tommy with Rose infuriated Luca so much that all he saw was red. Blood red. Blood that needed to be spilled. 

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

[springtimebat]

The demon and the seer

Chapter One: The Carnival Folk

In which a trip is made early, predictions are performed and Frankie Albarn is oddly at home

The last days of October were fading, just like the embers of a dying fire, and the devious clutches of November were finally stretching. It was during these twilight hours, between All Hallows Eve and the broken weeks of early winter, that the Carnival Folk made their return to the town of Bad Seed. 

The fields around the place succumbed to grey clouds as their visitors slithered across cracked cobblestone. Their van, that dreaded thing of nightmares, resembled an ancient hearse, with its collapsing bumper and its range of old knic-knacks plastered onto the doors, the windows, the floors. And as the vehicle made its way to the Old Albarn farm, descending through to the hills on its thousands of legs, its swollen exterior fighting against the rain as it began to rain, the villagers of Bad Seed glowered at the fog that had began to make its clumsy way up lanes and junctions, smashing against brick, a homemade, foreign concoction brought with their Carnival Folk in order for them to stay in the shadows. So they could hide. Men crouched in armchairs as the monster passed by the windows, worried for their children. Women of all shapes and sizes, eyes bulbous and full, whispered amongst themselves, heads swimming with myth. Murders of children flocked together around misted glass, hoping to catch a glimpse of phantoms. For a thing of legend to become a thing of reality. For they were all living in rare times. The Carnival Folk, with all their monsters, their fog, their shadows, only visited Bad Seed once in a blue moon. Mutters around town spoke of a blood pact with the crazy old Albarn Family, high up of their farm just outside of town. Others spoke men as big as houses, running through the town, carrying body parts, animals, circus equipment. Some spoke of animals; of elephants with three trunks, of wolves with human hands, of birds with paws and snouts. And then, of course, there was the woman of ancient tomes, with her hunched back and her gammy legs. The old one with her gnarled fingers, her walking stick; a tree branch that was said to stamp out peoples’ lives, summon devils and reanimate the dead. Most importantly, of course, was her glass eye, blue as frost said to bring those who gazed upon it eternal damnation, to curse the onlooker with rotted flesh and a taste for bloodshed. Shadows grew heavy in the town of Bad Seed and the children, in their murders, in their flocks, giggled in delight, in mischief. The old one was here!

Too soon, the van was making its way up old country lanes, having left the harsh confines of town square. The driver, hooded and armed with a threadbare whip, pressed firmly in, until in the midnight throes of mist and dew, the Carnival reached the old Albarn Farm, withering away on its small stretch of fields just outside Bad Seed’s suspicious gates. The van groaned as it came to halt, low exhausted. The driver sighed and mopped thick streams of sweat from his brow. Then he jumped down from his position, rounded the back of his family hearse and pulled the back door open. In the back was the old one, her wrinkled hands clutching the scrap walls. She frowned as she was led out into the moonlight, her amber eyes tiny slits as she got used to her surroundings. The driver, a man of very few words, grabbed the crone by the waist and delivered her onto the decaying pavement, where she landed on two slender legs hidden by an inherited grandmother’s smock. 

“Ah, back again Wilson,” The hideous one announced, her voice thick and high. She pointed a finger at the old Albarn Farm just before them. The driver grunted and held out an oak branch he had kept in the front seat until she was ready. The woman shook her head and glowered at him.  

“No need Wilson! I can make it on my own this time I know it! This place has a bitter taste. Always has, always will. I’ll be fine for this visit.”

Wilson sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t start that my boy,” The old woman scolded, batting away flies with a claw, “Now, have you got the tub?”

Wilson nodded and tapped a rucksack on his brick back. The old master nodded and with that, the two set off towards their destination; the crumbling Albarn farmhouse, taken apart by weeds, with its eyes blank slates. 

“Bloody Albarns! They make this journey hard enough without the stairs to climb!” The old one puffed as they finally got to the front door, after ten minutes of step after step after step. Wilson groaned and pressed the doorbell. There they stood for a while, waiting for a welcome, tapping their boots.

Footsteps soared to the old one’s strange ears and the door finally swung open, with a hideous creak. She noticed it was on its last rusty hinge. The Albarn woman appeared in the door frame, her face pale and warped, swarmed with cold sores. After catching sight of the old one and her assistant, Mrs Albarn’s eyes, already quite glassy, dimmed further.

“Do you want to come in?” She muttered, twirling a strand of straw hair around a bony finger. There was a thud from Wilson as he pulled the rucksack off his shoulders and the poor Albarn woman gave a squeak. The old woman smiled up at her, her teeth shiny in the dark.

“That would be nice dear, thank you.” 

And with that, the Carnival Folk entered the Albarn farm for what seemed like the thousandth time.

It had been six long years since the old one’s last visit and six long years since the last Albarn child. Yet, as they were ushered into the dilapidated foyer, the old master and her apprentice both realised the house hadn’t changed at all. Same furniture in the same place, just shaggy and worn with time. The carpets had not been replaced and the same cracks had not been scratched from the walls. All that seemed different were the portraits. The Albarn portraits were of the ugly necessary variety. They were an assortment of long gone corpses lining the foyer walls, detailing which was which. Now all the walls were filled to the brim with baby pictures. They told of first steps, of first words, of first guns. The insidious gap-toothed grin of a toddler loomed over the old one and made her cough. As she looked around and as Wilson rummaged through his supplies, Mrs Albarn seemed to stand in her own hallway, clasping and unclasping her greyed hands, opening and closing her fish mouth, unsure of what to do. 

“Strange,” The old one wondered, “She wasn’t like this the last time. She was such a happy lamb last time.” The old woman cleared her throat, making the Albarn woman tense.

“Is there anywhere to place the tub? Or shall we go into the Parlour like last time dear?” Mrs Albarn shivered in an invisible wind then nodded. Raising an eyebrow at Wilson, who looked just as puzzled, the old one led the way into the side parlour, just to their right.

“Is there any reason why Frankie insisted we come so early after the baby's birth?” 

They had set up the old tub on the coffee table and had now taken to listening to the rain thrash against the windowpane. Mrs Albarn, sitting on a patchwork couch, bit her lip.

“It was actually my idea. I was...concerned. I’m still concerned.”

The old woman rolled her eyes. New mother jitters. There was no doubt about it.

“Couldn’t you have waited a little longer dearie? Autumn is a very hard time of year for us. When you turn your head, October bleeds as quickly as it can into the following February.”

“Don’t you mean November?”

“No. February. Frankie should know how difficult the journey is here. It took us seven months to get to him. And Frankie was a real handful!”

“Yes well, this is a very special case.”

“Has the child set the house on fire?”

“What? No!”

“The barn? The fields?”

“No! Nothing’s on fire!”

“Ah, you see that’s what I would class as a special case. What has the child done there? She’s only what...two months old? What could she have possibly done to make you so anxious?” 

Before Mrs Albarn could answer, her husband slumped into their make-shift parlour. He was different too. So very different. When Frankie Albarn’s first child had been born the man had been glowing with pride, happiness… a third thing the old one couldn’t quite remember. Now, he was pale and grey, just like his wife. But Frankie was an Albarn! He had descended from witches and shadows! He was crafted from the midnight sky! Yet those bright eyes had fallen to smoke and faded glass. The old woman sighed. What a waste. 

“Hello,” Frankie nodded at the two Carnival Folk in his parlour, “How are you two?”

“Confused Frankie,” The old one sighed, “There better be a good reason for you calling us out here in November no less! Would you care to tell us what is going on?”

“The baby is…odd.”

“Odd how?”

“Just...odd. And Ruth was afraid-”

“Oh yes! She’s already said that! But here we all are, in the farmhouse. Nothing on fire.” A small smile formed on the old woman’s careworn face. Frankie gave a little chuckle, remembering the time he set the living room drapes alight. 

“We had them replaced.” 

“Oh yes I noticed last time!”

 Ruth Albarn sat between them all, perplexed.

“Fran’s upstairs,” She cut in, “Would you like to see her yourself?”

“By all means. Go girl go!”

A few minutes later, the old one of myth and fantasy was sat on a parlour armchair, prodding a baby with a wrinkled finger. 

“Ah, lovely! Just lovely! Much better than the boy was!”

Fran Albarn, plump as plump can be, gave the old one a giant grin. Her mother, sitting on the far side of the room, had turned a livid purple.

“Yes,” Ruth growled, “We know. The very first time you said it.”

The old woman blew a loud, obnoxious raspberry on the baby’s tummy. Fran erupted into a cackle, a noise Mrs Albarn seemed utterly repulsed by. 

“She had your laugh Frankie!” The crone gawped, “Your hair too!”

She stroked the girl’s dark brown tufts, which had just started to sprout.

Frankie didn’t seem happy about this news and looked down to the floorboards.

“I see nothing wrong with this one. Why on earth did you call?”

Frankie Albarn ran his fingers through his hair.

“When she was born she didn’t scream. She was completely silent. The midwife, some girl from town, said she was born with her eyes wide open.”

“And what lovely eyes too!” The old woman giggled, pinching Fran’s nose. The baby nodded, squirming, “Cheeky bugger!”

“...Anyway, isn’t that a little odd, you know? Being born observing the world around you. Having that much self awareness is a dangerous thing.”

“Perhaps for ordinary folk,” The old one picked the bay up, resting her in chicken-bone arms, “But this is an Albarn. Her kind swims with the fishes and flies high with the birds. There’s more witchcraft in her bones than sewing and farming.”

Ruth Albarn gave a little sob. The crone opposite growled. 

“Oh, pull yourself together! It could be much worse!”

“How?” Ruth wailed, “How could it possibly be worse?”

Wilson, silent as the grave, tapped the tub in the centre of the room, his eyes hooded. Frankie patted his wife on the back.

“I think we’re about to find out Love.”

“Steady Wilson! Steady!” The old crone called, placing Fran into the tub, tickling her head and pinching her cheeks before letting go.

“What’s the bowl for?” Ruth whimpered. 

“To cook her dear.”

“What?”

The old one sighed and turned back to the baby. 

“It was a joke Ruth. Just a joke,” Frankie explained warily.

“Wilson,” The crone called, “I need the flask. Pour the flask!”

Out of his pocket, Wilson produced a flasky, grimy and half full. He reached over Fran in the tub and poured the flask into her forehead, making the baby gurgle. 

“What’s all this for?” Ruth whispered to her husband as the old one placed a hand on her daughter’s head. Foam had started to crawl out from the bowl and began to take over the coffee table.

“We’ll see.”

“But-”

“We’ll see.”

“You have to list-”

“Trust me.”

After a minute or so, the old one’s eyelids began to droop and her hand let go of Fran’s head. 

“Here we go.”

“Wha-”

“The Fawn!” A voice pushed Ruth back. It was a rough male growl, which soared out of the old one’s throat with such force, it seemed to be the voice of a prisoner, trapped in her tiny frame, “A fawn will come. Only its eyes will remain.”

The Albarns watched, their mouths open. Wilson, stood beside them, lit a cigarette. 

“Nothing significant. A man made out of cinders. Crimson. West-West! North-west!” The old one called out, as spit flew down her chin, “A man with no names... A demon... A demon and its…” At this point, the old woman’s eyes, now red and puffy, clicked open. She stared down at the baby, full of so much light, so much potential, so much magic. Then she turned to stare at the parents, all lost and frozen in time. 

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Frankie asked slowly. The old one shuddered violently but then twisted her mouth into a smile. 

“Nothing’s wrong with her. She’s going to be a great little witch. One of the greatest I will ever see.” She replied, with some sadness. Ignoring Ruth’s tears, the old woman of myth, of legend, stumbled back to the parlour door. 

“We’re leaving now.”

Frankie Albarn, who had gone to collect his daughter, nodded reluctantly.

“Ruth will see you out.”

“Don’t you want your equipment back?”

“No need for it,” The old one replied, “Got hundreds of them, haven’t we Wilson?” Wilson grunted and raced forward to their van to retrieve his whip.

“That thing you did, it was a prediction right?” Ruth asked as they returned to the front door.

“Indeed.”

“So, they don’t always come true.”

“My predictions are very precise. I have thousands of satisfied customers. But yes I suppose there is room for error.”

“My pa always said to never trust your carnival lot,” Ruth Albarn glared. The old one smirked, her eyes like little suns in the shadows.

“Frankie’s pa ran off with a she-wolf, if I recall correctly. Make sure his son doesn’t do the same dear. History repeating itself is a horrible thing.”

Ruth scoffed and shut the door in the old one’s face. 

As the old lady walked down the stairs, she chuckled. By the time she got to her carnival hearse, she was cackling. Wilson, who had climbed back into the front seat, grinned at her. 

“I’ll bet you he’s gone in five years time.” 

Wilson held up two fingers in the fog.

“Oh that’s a brave bet Wilson my boy!”

Both giggled and the old woman circled the van. When she opened the back door, her face fell a little.

“Shame about the girl. Terrible start to life. Still, I suppose she’ll get away soon enough.”

 Wilson grunted and the old one, a relic of lost times, of monsters and men, climbed back into her van. Her assistant, who only spoke in noises, spat out the end of a cigarette and hit his whip onto the dry ground. A strange goodbye to an even stranger place.

And with that, the Carnival Folk disappeared into the hills, its bumper falling off with a giant thud as they hid in the mountains. They would never be seen in the peculiar town of Bad Seed again. 

#creative writing #my writing #cryptids #cryptidcore #monsters #paranormal #supernatural #worldbuilding #a devil's palm story #witches #demons #southern gothic #american gothic #oddcore #weirdcore #dark academia #parallel worlds #a new series #edited from three years ago #prophecies #ongoing series

[eddiesasspbrak]

When I’m With You Ch. 19

Eddie can’t stand the barista at his favorite coffee shop. Richie has fallen in love with the man he sees twice a week. Stan is dating someone but won’t let his friends meet them. Ben is in love with Beverly, but is so afraid of scaring her away he’s not moving forward. Chaotic friends navigating college together.

(HEADS UP emotional manipulation from a parental figure ahead. Proceed with caution)

Ch. 1

Read on AO3

3k+ words

The café was bustling when they arrived. The line went out the door and Mike and Bill were practically blurs flying around behind the counter trying to keep up with the mess. Eddie led them to the back of the line, ignoring his mother’s grumbling about the crowd and the inevitable long wait. He was trying to think positively, something that was nearly impossible with her around. In his head, everything would work out fine and the day would end without incident. Of course, he knew the truth and was sure she already hated Richie, but he had to hold out hope because he was finally happy.

“This line is ridiculous. How slow can they possibly be?” She griped.

Eddie held his tongue and was grateful that Richie did the same. He was sure that he wanted to say the same thing sitting on his tongue begging to be said. They thought they had the day off and had fun last night only to be dragged out of bed hungover and exhausted and are trying their best to get the line down without mistake! The little half-moon indents his nails were working into his palms would be sore later, but it helped Eddie keep his mouth shut.

As they finally got to the door, the person in front of it holding it open with their shoulder, they could see just how tired the duo looked. Bill had bags under his eyes as he took orders, stepping away from the register from time to time to pour plain coffee for a waiting customer. Mike zipped around making the more complicated drinks. The pastry case was scarce with no time to make trips to the back. Feeling for his friends and wanting to get away from the hateful words directed at them from Sonia before he said anything he’d regret; Richie shouldered his way past the line.

“I’m going to go help.” Was his only explanation and then he was inside, making his way to the counter.

Bill and Mike both lit up when they saw their friend coming to their rescue. Richie immediately went to the register, not bothering with an apron, relieving Bill who ran to the back for more baked goods. The three were always a treat to watch as they wove around each other flawlessly, not knocking into each other and seeming to read each other’s minds in the process. Eddie always thought it was a testament to their friendship how well they could work together. Eddie wondered if he, Ben and Stan would be the same. He couldn’t imagine them working together but they had their own strengths in their friendship.

For instance, when Eddie and his mom made it into the café, Stan, who had been draped across a table looking half dead, sat up straight and plastered a big fake smile on his face. His friends knew they had to put on a show to prevent things getting more difficult for Eddie.

“Mrs. Kaspbrak, how lovely to see you.”

“Stanley.” She said his name with a wrinkle of her nose as if she smelled something disgusting. “I didn’t realize you two were still friends.”

“Mom, I talk about him all the time. I told you I was with him just last week. Ben too.” Eddie said, hoping his smile was sweet enough that she wouldn’t be angered by his words.

“Right. A distraction from your studies.”

“Well...actually...Ben and I have a class together. So...we...study...together.” Eddie was losing his voice as his mother’s expression turned annoyed. He hated how afraid he was to anger her. Hated that Richie was going to see him like this. Why did he think this was a good idea again? Oh right, he’d been lost in the fantasy that he had a normal parent who maybe might be happy that he had a good group of friends who cared for him and a boyfriend who he loved. Instead he had Sonia. Judgmental of all, overprotective, no one good enough for her poor fragile little boy. Except he wasn’t. He’d hurt himself and gotten over it without her help. It was his friends who took care of him until he was well again. He’d always heard the saying ‘friends are the family you choose’ and he definitely believed that. But he wasn’t able to just cut her off. Not yet at least. He hoped one day when he wasn’t financially dependent he would have the strength to separate himself from her. Another dream for another time.

“I thought we came here for coffee and a snack. Not to interact with your...friends.” She said the word with a sneer as if it tasted bad in her mouth.

“Well I...my friends work here.”

“Those slow boys?” She asked.

“Mike and Bill.” Stan was holding back the protective anger he felt for his boys.

“It’s almost our turn mom, we can leave after we get coffee.” Eddie was beginning to feel hopeless. This was a bad idea. He should have just walked right past Richie when he saw him at the building. He shouldn’t have brought his mom here to meet his friends. She would never approve no matter what he did.

As they reached the front of the line, a small smile lit up on Richie’s lips when he saw Eddie. “Something special again today Spa...ah...ahem, Eddie?”

“Small black coffee.” Eddie said, knowing his mom would disprove of him getting one of the sugary drinks Richie made for him. He hoped she didn’t hear the disappointment in his voice.

“I’ll have a frozen blended vanilla drink. Large.” She said, eyeing the tray Bill was carrying out of pastries. “Are those chocolate chip scones?”

“Yes, they are.” Richie said, beaming.

“I’ll take two of those.”

“You know mom, Richie makes most of the pastries they sell here. They’re really good.” Eddie felt a swell of pride and thought maybe his mom wouldn’t mind having a future son in law who could bake.

“Well I certainly hope so since I’m spending my hard-earned money on them.” She grumbled as she handed over her card.

Finished paying, Eddie gave Richie an apologetic look, grabbing the bag of scones, before moving to the end of the counter to wait for their drinks. Mike caught Eddie’s eye as he poured the two cups of coffee. It had calmed down considerably since Richie had started helping them out.

“Hey Eddie. Didn’t expect to see you here today.” He greeted, setting his plain coffee on the counter.

“I ran into Richie and I was telling my mom how great the coffee and pastries are here. She wanted to try them for herself so here we are.” He grinned. “Mom, this is Mike. He’s a friend of mine. Mike this is my mom.”

“Mrs. Kaspbrak, nice to meet you.” Mike had heard Stan greet her, figuring he’d call her the same way.

“Michael was it? Make sure my drink isn’t too cold. I have sensitive teeth.”

“Uh...sure. Absolutely.” Mike wasn’t sure how to make a frozen drink less cold without it melting and based on what he’d heard about her from Stan, he figured this was a setup. Especially with the ashamed and embarrassed way Eddie was looking at him. Still, he did his best to make it and hoped she wouldn’t say it was too cold. The last thing he wanted was for Eddie to feel bad because his mom makes a scene over a drink order. He already seemed extremely wound up, ready to snap under the pressure any second. He and Bill hadn’t known Eddie for very long, but they already cared for him and had been worried about him since he’d announced the visit.

Luckily, when she accepted her order and took a sip she had no reaction whatsoever, good or bad. Mike breathed out a sigh of relief as did Eddie. When they turned back to the table Stan occupied, they found Ben and Bev had arrived without their noticing. Ben knew how to handle his mom, but he was a bit worried about Bev. Sure, they’d warned her, but if Sonia said the wrong thing and offended her, he wasn’t sure Bev could keep from arguing back. Still, she smiled, a genuine smile and made her way over to them.

“Eddie!” She leaned in and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to show my mom my favorite coffee shop. I thought you and Ben would still be asleep.”

“Nah, Bill texted, and we came to show our support.” She turned to his mother with a sickeningly sweet grin. “You must be Mrs. Kaspbrak! It’s wonderful to meet you! I’m Beverly Marsh, Ben’s girlfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend, but you kiss another boy so easily? You don’t want men to think you're loose, do you dear?”

Bev held her grin. “I only care what Ben and my friends think and they know me well enough to know my kisses are innocent.” She turned her gaze to Eddie. “Right, Eddie?”

“Oh, um…sure. Bev is like a sister to me.”

“Such a silly notion to compare friends to family.” Sonia sighed. “Come not Eddie, I’m tired and want to rest.”

Eddie almost felt relieved to be leaving though he wished things had gone better. He longed for a magic wand he could wave and make his mother normal and accepting of his beloved friends. Baby steps. That’s all he needed. One tiny step at a time until she accepted every aspect of his life or she would lose him.

He said his goodbyes to his friends and locked eyes with Richie over his shoulder as he headed toward the door. The sympathetic, almost sad, smile he returned made Eddie want to run and leap across the counter and kiss it away. Maybe next time.

*

 “I will never understand why you insist on being friends with those boys.” Sonia had started in on Eddie’s choice of friends as soon as they left the café and hadn’t let up. “They’re no good for you. You don’t need the distraction of socialization right now. You need to focus on school so you can graduate and come home.”

A chill went through Eddie. Home was no longer where he grew up. Home was his apartment, his friends, Richie. Most parents wanted their children to go off and find their own place in the world with people who love and support them. Not Sonia. Sonia wanted Eddie to experience the world without her and come cowering back to the safety of her bosom. Things weren’t going according to plan so she’d do what she could to drive a wedge between Eddie and his support system. He had no intention of returning to her house.

“That place was filthy. I won’t be surprised if we end up sick tonight.” She wolfed down both chocolate chip scones on the walk between harsh words without concern for getting sick. It made his belly boil because Richie likely made those scones. He was a skilled baker and she seemed to enjoy the scones. Why couldn’t she just admit that and compliment him instead? It was maddening. How could someone be so negative about everything around them all the time? It was exhausting.

“I drink their coffee several times a week and I’ve never gotten sick.” Eddie felt more emboldened now that they were out of the public eye and waiting for the elevator in his building. He wanted to protect his friends and it was bubbling up inside him to speak out in their defense. Even if it made things worse for him.

She ignored him. “And that girl. Flouncing around kissing every boy that isn’t her boyfriend. How disgusting. You don’t need a girl like that in your life. She’ll convince you to do things you’re not ready for and you’ll end up with a disease. Make sure you wash your cheek with hot water and soap when we get inside.

Things I’m not ready for? Last night I was on my hands and knees with a dick up my ass begging for more. I don’t even fuck girls. If I did, I’d be lucky to get a girl like her. “Bev isn’t like that. She loves Ben. She loves her friends.”

Again, ignored. She just didn’t want to hear it. Nothing would change her mind about them. It didn’t matter that she was hurting him by putting down the people he loved. She wouldn’t be happy until she controlled every aspect of his life and he knew it. He just didn’t want to believe that she couldn’t change. Eddie unlocked the door and stepped inside, not caring if she followed after him or not. In fact, if she’d decided to turn around and head back down to her car and leave without saying goodbye, he’d be thrilled.

“I found this group back home of other mothers who are just as close with their kids and I think it would be a good idea for us to meet with them. You can make friends who were raised right by parents who only want the best for their children.” She was grinning like she was pleased with herself. Eddie felt sick.

“There’s nothing wrong with my friends.”

“I’m sure you think so Eddie Bear, but you can do better. Better than those boys you met back home, better than that girl and the boys in the coffee shop. Especially that one with the glasses. Just because someone is your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to be friends with them.”

“Mom.” He couldn’t handle her putting down Richie. The bubbles were rising. In his chest.

“There was something off about him. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should be spending time with him.”

“Mom. Stop.” Up his throat.

“He looked like he doesn’t wash properly and that can negatively effect your health. Especially if you’re eating food he has prepared.

“Seriously, mom. You need to-.” Across his tongue.

“Maybe we should find you a new apartment building, so you won’t be so close to him. How much do you even know about him? He’s not a stalker is he?”

“MOM!” Pop. Eddie shouted. Sonia jolted like she’d just been slapped. Eddie had argued with her before. Raised his voice even. But not like this, not with this anger. It was radiating off of him.

“Eddie, there’s no reason to shout. I’m right here.”

“You’re not listening to me! I…I can’t do this anymore. Why did you have to come visit?”

“To check up on you and make sure you’re doing ok of course. I’m your mother. Am I not allowed to visit my son?”

“I’ve told you I’m doing fine. I’m getting good grades. I’m staying out of trouble. You don’t need to come check on me. I already come home for holidays. Just go home!”

“There is no need to be so rude, Eddie. I visit because I care about you. You don’t have anyone out here to look after you.”

“Yes! I do! You just spend the last twenty minutes berating them and you don’t even know them! You never even try to get to know them! I love them. They’re my friends and they love me too. They take care of me. We take care of each other. They are my family!”

“But Eddie-.”

“They’re important to me and I’m not going to listen to you put them down anymore! I’ve tried to keep my mouth shut. Bit my tongue to get through each visit until I taste blood, but I just can’t anymore. Ben and Stan have always been there for me. I don’t know Mike and Bill that well and they’re already so important to me and have helped me in more ways than you could possibly know. Bev is such a beautiful person who won’t hesitate to stand up for a complete stranger and who has been cheering me on since day one and Richie…Richie is the light in the darkness. He makes everything else make sense. He’s stupid and hilarious and so, so good. And I…I love him. I love them all, but I love Richie more.”

Sonia was silent for once as Eddie tried to find that last push to get the words out of his mouth once and for all. The bubbles were dissipating in his chest. He just needed one more to work its way out. To solidify what he was trying to say so she couldn’t convince herself he meant anything else. He had to get it out before she found her own words and he lost the fire in his belly. He took a deep breath, he balled his hands into fists, and he grew tall, head held high.

“I love Richie more because he’s my boyfriend. I’m gay and Richie Tozier is my boyfriend and I love him and nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

Now that he was done. He waited for her to respond while trying to hold that empowered feeling in his chest. If he let it slip away, he wasn’t sure what he would say or do. He couldn’t lose now. Couldn’t take back what he’d said and go back to bending at her will and taking her harsh words at the expense of everything and everyone he loved. He didn’t know how she would react, what she would say.

“I understand Eddie.” That definitely wasn’t what he’d expected. “You’re an adult now. You’re going to have a lot of different experiences. That’s normal. But eventually you’ll have to grow up and move on from those childish rebellions.”

Did she mean Richie? Was she saying that being gay and dating Richie were both acts of rebellion? A phase he’d outgrow? How could she be so far in denial of what Eddie was? To believe that falling in love with another man was just a temporary fixation that would pass with age.

“You’ll grow out of it in time, but for now…I don’t want you seeing that boy.”

“What?”

“He’s not good enough for you. He’s a barista in a shabby café. You’ll end it tomorrow.”

“I will not!”

“You will. You said nothing I can do will change the way you feel.” She’d gone eerily calm as she took a step closer to Eddie. “I pay for your school. I pay for your apartment and your food. You break up with him tomorrow or I will no longer support you. As soon as you come to your senses everything will go back to normal and I’ll continue to pay your way through college. Until then, pack your bags.”

Oh.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #It (2017) #it (2019) #Ro writes

[rositxespinosa]

It’s Complicated: Chapter 4

Remus Lupin x OC Rosalina Redd 

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alarm clock on your bedside table went off the following morning far earlier than you would’ve liked. You spent a large portion of yesterday’s afternoon walking the grounds of the school, trying to rationalize your thoughts. Part of you knew that your fear of rejection and your list of insecurities were to blame for these negative thoughts. You knew deep down that there was always the possibility that Remus had feelings for you. One thing you knew for sure though, was that you had fallen for him, and hard.

That morning had been difficult. You missed chatting with Remus over breakfast. You were thankful though for Mrs. Sprout, because she noticed your usual companion was missing, and came to sit next to you at once, trying to lift your spirits. Monday morning you had Charms at 10, which helped take your mind of things. At the end of the lesson you called out to the class what their homework assignment was and turned to sit back at your desk. Upon sitting down you realized that one of your students was standing by his desk in the back row, waiting.

“Harry,” You said, surprised to see him. “Come here.” You motioned him over to your desk. “What is it dear?” You asked with interest. He looked around the room before his green eyes met yours. His demeanor was awkward, like he was nervous about something.

“Oh um, it’s just,” He took a long breath, “I noticed you seemed a bit sad today and was wondering if you were ok?” Harry spoke so quickly you were proud of yourself for catching what he’d said. You smiled at him and let out a gentle laugh.

“Yes Harry, I’m alright. I appreciate you asking, that was very kind of you. You are quite observant hmm?” You said, leaning back in your chair. Harry smiled and replied with a sheepish grin at your compliment. 

“I think I picked it up from Hermione if I’m being honest.” He admitted. His shoulders dropped and there was a more confident smile on his face.

“Ah yes, miss Granger. How is she? Is she ill?” At the mention of your students name you remembered she hadn’t come to class that morning, which was extremely out of character for her.

“Oh! Uh yeah shes fine, I think. I don’t know why she wasn’t here, honestly.” Harry sounded nervous again, like he was in trouble. You shook your head.

“You’re not in trouble Harry. I was simply wondering. It seems that you, miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley are never seen apart.” You teased. “And I see that Mr. Weasley is waiting for you, Harry.” At his look of confusion you pointed to your classroom doorway where none other than Ron Weasley was peering inside, trying and failing to be discreet. Harry turned back to look at you with flushed cheeks and muttered a sorry. 

“It’s alright Harry. Now go on, you have other classes to attend.” Harry started to walk back towards Ron when you remembered something.

“Oh and Harry?” He and Ron turned to look at you. 

“Nice job on your paper last week, it was a wonderful read.’’ You said before  turning your gaze to Ron. “And Mr. Weasley,” You started, “Excellent job on the homework, you’re really improving.” Ron became flustered at your praise. “Now go, both of you. Off to class.” You shooed the two boys away, who sprinted off with big goofy grins plastered on their faces. 

The rest of your Monday wasn’t as bad as you expected. But as 2 o’clock rolled around you started to feel down again. Every Monday at 2 for the last month and a half you would have tea and chocolate with Remus in his office. Or in your case, coffee and chocolate. It had become sort of a tradition. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays you’d meet in his office, while the other days of the week you’d meet in yours. The time spent chatting about anything and everything and drinking your coffee with the company of Remus is where your feelings for him developed. It’s where you discovered each other’s interests, what your goals in life were, and where you jokingly gossiped about the staff. You got to see him in a different light. When the two of you spent time together you felt free and safe. Remus treated you respectfully; like an equal. That’s more than you can say for the other men you’ve brought into your life. He made you feel not only safe, but secure and comfortable. You were undoubtedly physically attracted to him, but it was also so much more than that for you. You felt like maybe you had found the one, but you were left with feelings of doubt and insecurity. 

Two in the afternoon came and went, as did your thoughts. You spent the rest of the afternoon having a lesson with the first years and grading assignments. Dinner time was quickly approaching, so you stood from your desk and left to go down to the Great Hall.

****

The rest of the week went by smoothly. While you did miss Remus’s presence, you busied yourself with work. Occasionally you would take breaks in between lessons to walk the grounds and get fresh air. You didn’t like being cooped up in your classroom all day, and with November soon approaching the air had been more crisp and cool, making going outside from the warm castle a nice refresher. On your way back one morning you were caught off guard by two voices. 

“Severus, don’t be a fool. You know the cost of me not taking the potion.” Your ears perked up at the sound of Remus’s voice. He sounded calm, yet exhausted. You had no doubt he probably looked it too, but you couldn’t see him. You were at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall and listening to the conversation going on a few feet away from you. 

“Don’t call me a fool!” Snape spat. “You’re lucky I even agreed to make this potion for you. Wouldn’t want your little girlfriend to find out now would we?” He mocked. Your stomach dropped. What was he talking about? 

“Severus yo-” Remus stopped talking the moment you walked out from behind the wall, pretending you had just happened to be walking by. His lips formed into a small smile at the sight of you, making your stomach flip with glee. You smiled back at him. Snape stood there with a scowl on his face, as usual. 

“I’ll bring you your potion later tonight, Lupin.” And with that he turned and walked off to the dungeons, his black robes swaying behind him. You turned back to Remus and cocked your head at him. You wanted to speak but you couldn’t seem to form the right words. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, making him chuckle.

“If there’s something you’d like to say please don’t let me stop you from saying it.” Looking into his eyes you felt yourself relax. You were safe with him, you knew that. 

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to ask.” You admitted.

“It’s about what Severus spoke of, isn’t it?” You nodded your head, never losing eye contact with him. He looked down and heaved out a sigh. Looking back up he gave you an assuring smile.

“Severus has been kind enough to brew me a special potion for when I feel ill. It has been helping me heal up much quicker than I would without it.”

 You heard the words you spoke before you realized you had spoke them.

“Do you fall ill often?” You asked abruptly. Your eyes widened. “Forgive me, that was rude of me. Remus I-” He held out his hands and silenced you.

“It’s alright, Rosa, there’s no need to apologize.” Your heart skipped at beat at the nickname. The corridor suddenly felt hotter than before. “I do unfortunately fall ill often, but I assure you it’s nothing to worry about.” Remus finished. The pair of you stood in the middle of the hall, staring at each other in content silence before you asked,

“Would you care to join me for tea, Remus? I believe we have a lot of catching up to do.” You smiled at the smirk on his face.

“I would love to. Shall we use my office? I reckon it’s closer.” You nodded in agreement and you and Remus walked to his empty classroom, closing the door shut upon entering it. It was the same as it had been nearly two weeks prior. Books were stacked high on top of shelves, papers were scattered across his desk, an old tea mug still laid on it. It was cozy, familiar, and it smelt like him. He insisted you sat down while he fixed himself a cup of tea, and you a cup of coffee, just how you liked it; two creams and two sugars. You thanked him as he handed it to you and sat down himself.

“It appears you’re feeling better. That’s good.” You said, taking a sip of your coffee. He nodded and sat the cup of tea down on his desk.

“Yes, I am feeling much better. Not quite back to full health, but better.” He picked up his cup of tea and began to drink from it. There were a few moments of tense silence. 

“Remus,” You started, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. I know you were ill, and we haven’t spoke since before then, but please, let’s go back to how we were.” You pleaded. Remus had a hint of sadness in his eyes but gave you a smile nonetheless, quickly recomposing himself. 

“I agree,” He said, and you heard yourself sigh with relief, to which he chuckled. “Now, lets get to catching up, shall we?” You smiled at his words, and feeling thankful that he was back.

***

You spent the rest of the morning with Remus. The air in the room became clear, and the two of you laughed and joked as you had done many times before. You told him about how well your lessons have been going, and how you thought the students liked you, to which he agreed. After talking with him about what you were planning for the students Charms final, you and him headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. 

You tried to ignore the stares you and Remus received when you walked into the hall together. Some were knowing, others were filled with curiosity and confusion. Hushed whispers were heard as you made your way to the front table. 

Lunch had been most uncomfortable. Once food had been served the student’s attention was on eating and chatting with their friends. However, the other professors were acting.....odd. McGonagall gave you a cheeky grin and winked, while Snape was glaring holes into the side of Remus’s head. The attention on you and Remus made you nervous.  You liked Remus, hell, you may have even been in love with him. But you hadn’t told him yet, or even made it clear that you wanted to be with him. Yet somehow the school knew what was going on. Was it that obvious? You knew you’d have to pluck up the courage and just tell him, sooner rather than later. 

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #remus lupin #severus snape #remus lupin imagines #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x oc #harry potter x oc #my writing

[sugaskully]

DIE FOR YOU - chapter one

ALL PARTS - Die For You

BTS bodyguard au

Words: 3110

C H A P T E R - O N E

[ 14 NOVEMBER 2018 ]

CLEOBELLA

I woke up the next morning to a knocking on my bedroom door, the unfamiliar sound confusing me as I sat up, wincing in pain that centred around my forehead. I usually woke myself up due to the fact that my dad was always working and my classes started at 5pm, I had no real reason to wake up at this ungodly hour.

“Come in.” I called, rubbing my eyes as I moved to cross my legs, sat atop my oversized bed as my dad entered the room, crossing to the bay windows before opening both sets of curtains, letting the light in “What’s going on?”

“You’re meeting your security personnel today.” He simply said, heading back towards the double doors “Then I have a business meeting, you will find something to do for the time being and later we’ll have dinner. Your classes have been cancelled for tonight, after what happened yesterday.”

“Dad, honestly I’m fine.” I sighed, my head disagreeing with my statement instantly.

“Honestly, you don’t look it.” He admitted, “You have about twenty minutes to get dressed and look alive again, Bella-Bear.”

“Twenty minutes?” I scoffed, “So I’ll take forty then.”

“As you always do.” He smiled, closing the door behind him as I let out a breath of air.

Time to see if I did actually look as bad as a feel. I slowly slid out of my bed, trudging along to my ensuite bathroom, heading to the mirror above one of the sinks to see the horror before me.

My plaster had fallen off sometime during my sleep, revealing a very swollen and very purple bruise, the area around my eyes darkened slightly due to the impact of being hit with the butt of a gun.

“Oh my god.” I whispered, staring in complete shock horror at my appearance “Nothing can fix this.”

I got to work, showering, blow drying my hair, washing my face but being extra delicate with my forehead as I applied different face wash treatments and creams, finishing by applying some makeup, thanking the makeup gods for concealer that helped make the situation at least a little better.

Who was I even trying to impress? Some 40-year-old ex-military bodyguards that probably wouldn’t even spare me a second glance? No. Myself. And the various business people that will probably see me at the dinner my father had planned later that day.

Once I was satisfied with my attempt at covering the damage, I moved to my wardrobe, connected through my ensuite so I could easily move from there to change and back out to my bedroom. Honestly, it was excessive, but the archetype and home designer asked me to design my room, so naturally, I went a little overboard. Every little girl dreams of designing their own bedroom when they grow up, and well, I got to live that dream to the fullest.

It wasn’t long before I was changed into a beige turtleneck sweater, tan tartan skirt, black tights and knee-high boots, planning on walking my dog after briefly meeting the men that would observe me 24/7.

Before leaving, I glanced towards the safe in my room, heading over to unlock it with my code before taking out my handgun, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt, using the oversized fabric of my sweater to cover it before grabbing my jacket just incase.

I exited my bedroom, glancing up from my phone to see one of the home security guards nod in my direction, gesturing towards the staircase.

“Your bodyguards have already arrived ma’am.” He said as I headed towards the left staircase “They’re all waiting in the Parlor.”

“Is Jesse here?” I asked, noticing how the man frowned in response before nodding slightly.

“He should be arriving later, Ma’am.” He said.

“Thank you.” I smiled, heading down the steps before glancing around at the ridiculous amount of guards in every visible room, guarding any main door that led to the outside and any potential threats.

“You are to escort her wherever she goes,” I heard an increase of my fathers voice as I headed towards the Parlor “Remain by her side whenever I am out of the country, perform background checks on any individual that she has contact with, eliminate threats to her life and-”

“Treat me like a Royal Princess.” I interrupted sarcastically, entering the room as many pairs of eyes turned to look at me “Honestly, I can manage one foot in front of the other, father, I don’t need this many people risking this lives for me when I’m not in danger.”

“Bella-bear, my Princess.” My father said, moving around the chaise lounge to hug me “You said you’d play along.” He whispered as I sighed before nodding, turning to observe the men with a smile.

All seven of them, stood side-by-side, clad in dark suits with matching ear pieces, seven pairs of eyes on me.

Ex militia. And from the looks of it were not failing in the beauty department. Hot but deadly, and completely off limits to me, as this kind of business would be strictly professional. They would protect me and I would naturally hate them for not giving me space. That’s how this works.

“Bella-bear meet Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk.” My father said, each giving me a curt nod when their name is mentioned “The top security personnel in the country, hired solely to protect my daughter as recommended by me and my dear friend and boss President Yang. As everyone within this room knows, my job is extremely important and due to the ties between the American Government and Secret Intelligence Service, as well as the South Korean Government and my job as Chief of the Secret Intelligence Security Agency it poses a great risk to the lives of those important to me. And the only life important to me is my daughter’s, and because of my status, the entirety of the world is aware of this fact.”

“So I’m going to have a security personnel following me around for the rest of my life?” I asked, slightly worried that the response would be bad.

“For as long as your life is in danger, we will protect you, Miss Roman.” Kim Namjoon nodded.

“Right, that settles it then.” My father said, clapping his hands together in contentment before checking his watch “I have a meeting in twenty-five minutes so I better head out, boys, take good care of her while I’m gone, okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” Seokjin nodded.

“Of course, Mr Roman.” Jungkook said, my eyes following my father as he smiled, kissing my cheek before leaving with two guards of his own.

I let out a breath of air, slowly turning back around to see that the seven of them were still watching me, either out of curiosity or cautiousness as if at any given moment I might be attacked… or maybe they were staring at the hideous bruise on my forehead?

“I’m walking my dog.” I announced, turning to leave the Parlor when footsteps followed, not just one or two like I had suspected… no… all seven, and just to confirm I turned back to see that, yes, they were all right behind me “Honestly, can’t I just bring one of you along?” I sighed.

“No less than two.” Namjoon said, “Jungkook come with me. The others, find something useful to do.”

“You’re a little young.” I voiced aloud as we began walking, heading to the kitchen where Frodo was most likely eating his food “And you did Military Training?”

“I started young, Miss Roman.” Jungkook nodded, his voice kept professional and straight to the point “Finished top of my regiment, with only a few years training.”

“Impressive.” I said, pushing open the kitchen door only to have Frodo leap up immediately, tongue sticking out as his tail wagged, trying to familiarise himself with the new company “None of you are afraid of dogs are you?”

“Of a… Border Collie?” Namjoon asked as he became Frodo’s next victim, jumping onto his back paws as Namjoon scratched the top of his head and behind his ears.

“Okay, allergic then?” I sighed.

“Negative.” Jungkook said, Frodo moving to him.

“This is Agent Wolf, confirming location. Wildfire.” Namjoon spoke, pressing a finger to his earpiece as he turned away “Rosebud is secured, will be on the move but escorted by myself and Agent Bambi.”

“Wildfire and Rosebud?” I frowned as Namjoon turned back around to face me “Code names.”

“I’m Agent Wolf. Jungkook is Agent Bambi. Wildfire is your home.” He nodded firmly, “And you’re Rosebud. Incase anyone who is a threat to you gains access to those communication devices, the code words will help to conceal your whereabouts.”

“Nobody knows who I am.” I huffed, “Just some Government Official’s daughter… why would anyone want to kill me?”

Namjoon and Jungkook remained silent, watching as I whistled to Frodo, getting him to follow me before heading back through the house and to the front door.

“How far is this park?” Namjoon asked as he headed straight towards one of the black SUVs with tinted windows and no doubt bulletproof titanium armour infused into the body of the car.

“You walk to the park.” I said, glancing down at my dog “That’s the point of walking your dog.”

“Having you out in the open like that is dangerous.” Jungkook said, shaking his head “We cannot risk it, Miss Roman, I’m sorry.”

“I have a run in with my crazy ex-boyfriend and I’ve suddenly got seven keepers?” I scoffed, shaking my head before walking towards the security gate “No, I am going to continue doing normal things and walk my dog, no matter the risks.”

“Dammit, I knew you’d be difficult the moment I laid eyes on you.” Namjoon mumbled before rushing to catch up, Jungkook on the other side of me “Just listen to everything I tell you so we can keep you as safe as possible.”

“Wouldn’t want to spoil your pay check by having my head blown off, would you?” I whispered, Namjoon and

Jungkook keeping straight faces as they continued to look ahead of us, Jungkook’s head every so often moving to rest on the gun he had tucked into the inside of his suit jacket, Namjoon’s eyes scanning every inch of the dog park we had arrived in “Don’t you find this exhausting?”

”Find what exhausting, Miss Roman?” Namjoon asked as Jungkook watched Frodo rolling around with a smile on his face.

“Dedicating your life to protecting someone else whilst they live theirs?” I asked.

“I work with six friends that I consider my brothers, doing a job that I know I’m good at.” Namjoon said, “At the end of the day, my client is my responsibility, and in this case, that is you. Saving the lives of others is thrilling, if I be so bold to state. My sincere apologies, Miss Roman.”

“No, no, it’s completely fine.” I reassured him, “It was my fault, I’m just trying to make this situation a little less awkward, by getting to know you both a little better since we’ll be spending so much time together anyway.”

“Understandable.” Namjoon nodded, “We need to wrap this up and head home, this place is not secure.”

I frowned, looking around at the various people in the park. An elderly couple walking their dogs, kids running around with their dog, couples in conversation on a few benches.

“I don’t think anybody is a threat to me here.” I said, watching as Namjoon’s shoulders tensed up, clearly not appreciating my constant need to second guess him.

“Okay, I’ll let you make the decisions.” I nodded, whistling Frodo back over, Jungkook turning to look at me, nodding curtly “After all, my life is in your hands.”

The walk back was quick and efficient, just as Namjoon must have planned it, a few pedestrians giving me odd looks as two men in suits with ear pieces followed me, Jungkook beside me, Namjoon behind, Frodo clueless as he ran ahead.

“You’ll have to make us aware of your schedule.” Namjoon said, “So I can plan ahead the safest route and ensure that nobody there is a threat to you.”

“I have night classes at the medical school a little across town.” I said, waiting as Namjoon typed in the code to unlock the security gate of my house.

“From five to ten.” Namjoon nodded as the gate opened “I am aware. I meant your personal schedule, meeting with friends, hobbies.”

“I don’t really do much else other than go to school, study, walk Frodo and go horse riding.” I shrugged, “It’s hard to make friends given my dad’s job and how I’m always busy so I usually just hang out with Jesse.”

“Boyfriend?” Jungkook asked as I snorted out a laugh.

“My bodyguard, before you seven.” I corrected.

“Ah, I see, the one who failed at protecting you.” Namjoon said, showing his I.D to the guard at the front door although me being there was enough proof I’d assume.

“He was… well, yes, but it was partially my fault.” I huffed, watching as Frodo ran off in the opposite direction inside the house. Namjoon, Jungkook and I stopping underneath the chandelier as the guard shut the door behind us.

“With us you’ll never be hurt.” Namjoon nodded, “And it will never be partially your fault because we won’t fail you.”

“Good to know.” I smiled, “Well, I’m going to study a little while my dad is away and then I guess we’ll have that dinner.”

“A few minutes please, Miss Roman.” Namjoon said, “Your room is just being checked.”

“What?” I whispered a slight scoff “There are people in my room?”

“We just ensure that it is clear.” Namjoon said, “No hidden cameras, mics, etc. Your father informed us that the house is regularly checked but you refuse to have your room checked.”

“Because, firstly I hardly let anyone in there!” I gasped, completely bewildered that my father had allowed someone to invade my privacy like that “And secondly, invasion of privacy!”

“It’s all for your own safety.” Namjoon sighed, “It’ll do you good to remember that, save us arguments in the future.”

I glared at him, crossing my arms before stomping my foot in a childlike manner, on the verge of having a tantrum but I wasn’t going to give him that, especially because he looked on in amusement at my actions.

“You listen to what we say, when we say it.” Namjoon shrugged, “You’ll stay alive and safe that way, and it’ll make this easier for all of us.”

“And if I don't?” I asked, tilting my head to the side as I smiled slightly “If I make your life a living hell, what happens then?”

“I’ll repay the favour.” He said, completely unfazed by my words, making me even more frustrated due to the fact that he didn’t even care.

I span around on my heel, heading straight upstairs and turning down my hallway, stomping towards my bedroom doors which were adjacent, my eyes immediately moving to the bright-red-haired man, Taehyung, taking my journal out of my bedside table.

I stopped in the hallway, glancing over to see Jimin stood on my expensive vintage corner chair from Paris, checking each corner and crevasse of the room for cameras, I presumed.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed as he observed his colleagues invading my personal belongings.

I stepped further into the room, unnoticed by any of them, turning to see that my en-suite bathroom door was open, Seokjin stood looking around before he began to search through the cupboards, pausing every so often to look in the mirror.

Hoseok was in my walk-in-wardrobe, every so often picking up an item of my clothing and frowning before he headed back into the main room through the other door, holding my most expensive item of lingerie, my face turning as red as the fabric.

“Uh, guys, do you think this is my colour?” Hoseok asked, Yoongi turning and clearing his throat when he noticed the item of clothing, Jimin reacting in a completely different way, losing balance and stumbling off the chair, saving himself from falling by grabbing my bed frame, eyes wide.

“Professional Security Personnel?” I scoffed, all eyes turning to me as Hoseok smirked, glancing from the fabric to me, no doubt trying to imagine me in it like a pervert, suddenly making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Hoseok said, still holding the garment in plain sight “I was curious who I’d be protecting with my life, it seems you’re worth a bullet after all.”

I rolled my eyes, moving to snatch the fabric from him when he held it behind him and high above his head.

“This is a key piece of evidence.” Hoseok said, “Is there somebody we should know about? You know, so we can put them on the list of cleared friends… or others.”

“Nobody to know about.” I shrugged, “It’s my most expensive piece, so I haven’t worn it.”

“Yet.” Jimin added as I turned to look at him, looking on curiously as his eyes darkened and he smirked.

“Yet.” I repeated, watching the surprise fill his face as Hoseok cleared his throat.

“Everybody out.” Namjoon spoke sternly, all eyes turning to see him in the doorway “If the place is clear, leave Miss Roman to her studies.”

Taehyung moved to hand me the journal, Hoseok and Jimin leaving the room together, Yoongi grabbing the piece of fabric from Hoseok as he passed him, Hoseok frowning in confusion as if he had forgotten, Jin following suite with Taehyung. Leaving Yoongi behind, who remained watching me, an unreadable expression on his face, my lingerie in his hand.

“Thank you.” I said as he handed me the lingerie, letting out a small smile, waiting for him to return one but he kept a cold expression, said nothing and left.

I let out a breath of air in annoyance as Namjoon moved to shut the door behind him “I’ll be just outside.”

“On guard.” I mumbled, “You don’t have to, nobody inside my home is out to get me.”

“My job is to protect you, and I don’t have much else to do whilst in your home.” He shrugged, “Stop resisting my need to do my job.”

I held his stare before turning away to gather my folders and other studies, hearing the door click shut and returning my gaze to see that I was now alone.

#bts #btsau #au #fanfiction #minyoongi #suga #yoongi #ofc #kimnamjoon #parkjimin #junghoseok #kimtaehyung #jeonjungkook #kimseokjin #angst #bodyguardau #btsbodyguard

[jovialyouthmusic]

Two’s Company, Three’s Allowed, a Royal Romance fanfic

Masterlist

@speedyoperarascalparty @brightpinkpeppercorn @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @ao719 @choicesfanatic86 @darley1101 @flowerpowell @gardeningourmet @kinkykingliam @livingthroughchoices @likethetailofacomet @andy-loves-corgis @silviasutton1989 @blackcatkita @flowerpowell @endlessly-searching-for-you @boneandfur

An Unusual Wedding Part 3

Warning; Mention of miscarriage and bereavement

Lucy and Brad were waiting outside the Chateau to greet them, along with Gladys. Brad opened the car door and Bianca got out, followed by Savannah while Drake got out of the other side of the car.

‘Mrs Walker, it’s wonderful to see you again.’ beamed Brad. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate Drake’s friendship and loyalty. He’s a credit to you and your husband.’ He gently touched her upper arms by way of a token hug and leaned down to kiss her on either cheek.

‘Brad, you’ve grown into such a fine young man.’ she said fondly. ‘I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death. He was always good to us.’

Uncharacteristically, Lucy hung back, but only for a fraction of a second. Only Brad and Drake would have noticed her hesitation, but she held out her hand to Bianca, smiling sweetly.

‘Mrs Walker, so good to meet you. Drake has told me all about you.’ Drake knew that was a white lie as he found it hard to talk about his parents at the best of times. At least she hadn’t said ‘told me so much about you’. Bianca accepted her hand, and they leaned into each other for a kiss on the cheek. They parted, and Lucy looked hopeful, but her smile was beginning to wane as Bianca looked her over critically.

‘My my Drake, what a lovely pretty young wife you’ll be sharing with Brad.’ she said to him, then turned her attention back to Lucy. ‘You’re rather pale my dear, it must be tiring trying to keep two men happy.’ Lucy looked crestfallen for a moment before she plastered on a smile again.

‘Not at all Mrs Walker, they look after me very well. I’m hardly ever alone.’ Drake felt moved to defend Lucy and stood close to her facing his mother. He sneaked his hand into hers.

‘Lucy had an accident a week or so ago, Mom. She’s still getting over it.’

‘Oh don’t be silly Drake, I’m just fine.’ smiled Lucy. ‘Brad has been very attentive.’

‘Accident? What happened?’ Bianca asked. ‘Should you be putting so much pressure on her if she’s not well?’ By this time Savannah was standing next to her mother.

‘Mom, come in and let’s see if Bartie is awake.’ Bianca’s face lit up and the two women went off into the house chattering and smiling. Drake looked to Lucy, who was looking a little shocked at his mother’s comment.

‘Don’t mind her Lucy, she always says what she thinks. I’m sure she’ll be more relaxed after she’s seen Bartie.’ Lucy smiled wanly

‘I can see where you got your forthright nature from.’ Lucy said tartly.  Drake made a face, the corners of his mouth turning down.

‘You do look pale, are you okay?’

’I wish you would all stop fussing, I’m fine. I’m naturally fair skinned and I’ve not seen much sunlight lately.’ Lucy said testily.

‘In that case we cna have tea and cake on the terrace.’ said Drake ‘By the time we’ve had a stroll around the knot garden it will all be ready, and anyone who wants to can join us.’

‘That’s a good idea, it’s still warm and it will be a while before dinner is ready.’ Brad nodded to Drake.

‘I’ll go and arrange it and let folk know, you two catch up.’ he said, disappearing into the house, leaving Lucy to stroll arm in arm with Drake.

‘You must be excited to have your Mom here at last.’ she smiled.

‘Honestly, yes, but a part of me still remembers how she left me and Savannah here when Dad died, and you saw how she speaks her mind. I’m sure things will settle down when she gets to know you better but…’

‘It’s not going to be easy, is it?’ Lucy sighed. ‘In some ways – I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but she reminds me of…’

‘Olivia, I know.’ said Drake miserably. ‘There is a big difference though, Mom doesn’t mean to be unkind, she just doesn’t realise how saying what you think can be hurtful. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.’

‘Well Drake, although you say what you mean too, you’re not cruel. That marshmallow centre of yours always keeps you in check. Whenever you’ve said anything hurtful, you’ve apologised as soon as you realised.’ Lucy assured him. ‘Luckily I find that a very attractive quality.’

‘And you always say exactly what you mean, but say it nicely – unless of course you’re talking to Olivia because harsh words are the only thing she understands, or someone like Neville who is an idiot.’ Drake grimaced ‘Your words are precise and well thought out’

‘Thanks Drake. I guess all that matters is that everything goes smoothly, then the three of us can at least have a little alone time before Anton’s trial.’

They saw that tea was ready on the terrace, so they went to sit in the afternoon sunshine. Gladys and Lily stood by to serve guests and Lucy went to wave them away, but Drake tutted at her.

‘You need to take a back seat Valois. Sometimes having servants is useful, so let them wait on you.’ He smiled at Gladys ‘Thank you, Lucy needs some spoiling, so go right ahead.’

The two of them sat companionably, sipping tea and eating cake for a while before the others started to drift out to join them. Brad was first, and Hana followed after, exclaiming in delight at the spread. By the time a fresh pot of tea was needed, Bianca and Savannah arrived with Bertie and Bertrand, closely followed by Maxwell.

Talk turned to arrangements for the wedding, which by now was due in two days’ time. Bianca was captivated by little Bartie, feeding him cake and ignoring Savannah’s pleas not to spoil him.

‘Nonsense, I’m his grandma, and who knows when Drake will be giving me another grandchild – I expect the first child you have will be an heir to the throne, won’t it, Lucy?’ Everyone stared at her, and Hana choked a little on her cake. Maxwell banged her on the back, which created a diversion, but the damage had been done. Lucy got up and excused herself, walking determinedly to the house. Bianca looked puzzled.

‘What on earth is wrong with the girl?’ she cried. ‘It’s true isn’t it?’ Drake turned on her.

‘Mom, you really should think before you speak.’ he growled and got up to run after Lucy. Hana was blushing by now, having been told all about the reasons for Lucy’s stay in hospital and Brad smiled uncomfortably. Savannah leaned forward to speak in a low voice.

‘I think you hit a nerve, Mom. Lucy was in hospital last week with a suspected miscarriage after taking a fall from her horse.’ Bianca looked stricken.

‘How was I to know? No wonder she was looking pale. Do none of you know how to look after someone after a shock like that?’ Brad cleared his throat.

‘I assure you Mrs Walker, Lucy has received the best medical care Cordonia has to offer.’

‘This little backwater?’ she cried. ‘you might as well have witchdoctors for all the good it’s done her. It’s not medical attention she needs.’ and she got up and all but ran after Drake and Lucy, who had reached the house and gone into the drawing room. Lucy was now flushed and looked angry.

‘Mom, not now.’ hissed Drake, but she was adamant.

‘Do you know how devastating a miscarriage is, Drake Walker?’ she scolded. Lucy’s expression changed to one of sorrow.

‘The doctors said she’d never been pregnant to start with.’ he protested.

‘But it’s enough if she thought she was!’ she cried and turned to Lucy to hold her in a fierce hug. Lucy froze at first, then suddenly softened and burst into tears. Bianca led her to a sofa and sat her down. ‘There there dear, nobody understands what it’s like. You go ahead and cry, you’re grieving for a lost life, whether there was anything there or not.’ Drake hovered by the two women, not sure what to do.

‘Don’t just stand there, Drake, at least get the poor girl a hanky’ she chided, holding her arm around Lucy’s shoulders ‘She’s suffering from grief and shock. Get some sweet tea too’ She sat and soothed the sobbing Lucy as Drake hurried off. She managed to pull herself together after a few minutes.

‘Th – thankyou Mrs Walker. I didn’t think it mattered.’ she hiccupped softly. ‘I only thought I was – and I went for a ride to think about it, then my horse threw me. Drake found me… at the bottom of a slope in the woods, and he stayed with me until the Air ambulance came. He was so brave and comforting. Don’t be hard on him. I love him so much – and Brad too.’

‘Shh darling, call me Bianca, and you settle yourself down. Doctors know nothing you know, you need to talk to someone who’s been through it themselves, they can tell you how to cope.’ Lucy looked at Bianca, realisation slowly dawning.

‘You mean – you…?’

‘Yes darling, me. Drake might have had an older sister or brother. I felt so bad afterwards, and the best tonic was being able to talk about it with someone who knew.  The next best cure is a successful pregnancy.’

‘I’m so sorry for you Mrs Walker- I mean Bianca. I – we weren’t even planning it for a while, we were going to wait, and we’d been careful. I was late, but I guess it was the shock of all the things that happened on my wedding day.’ Lucy did not tell Bianca that she wasn’t sure whose child it might have been, but she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted ‘Nobody wanted to talk about it, they were just glad that I was okay.’

‘And now you’ve got the pressure of another wedding. It’s not surprising you’re so run down.’

‘But I can’t call it all off. I want Drake to be part of our marriage.’

‘Well I don’t quite understand how you can have two men at once dear, but if that’s what you want, and it’s legal and above board in this little backwater, why shouldn’t you? Just leave all the arrangements to everyone else and give yourself some time to grieve. Talk to Brad and Drake about it and what it means to you, and then hopefully you’ll be able to enjoy your…’ she took a deep breath. ‘second wedding. Just let it happen.’

Drake reappeared with tissues and tea, and Brad came in with him. Bianca stood and gave the two men a stern look.

‘You need to listen to Lucy and support her. She’s not to have any work to do at all before the wedding, it’s all your responsibility. I’ll be watching and making sure she’s not stressed – do you boys understand?’ The two men nodded, and she walked out of the room to leave them to it.

Lucy patted the sofa beside her, and the two men sat either side of her. She leaned into Brad’s embrace and Drake put his hand on her back and held her hand.  She closed her eyes and felt their support. She drew a deep sigh. Her voice was small as she started to speak but grew stronger as she went on.

‘For a few hours, I thought I was pregnant. For those hours, I wasn’t only wondering whose it was – I was thinking about whether it was a boy or a girl – who it would look like and how I’d cope looking after it. I wondered if I’d make a good mother. I knew you would both be fantastic fathers, but I wondered if it would divide you when you knew whose it was. I didn’t even know if Drake was going to say yes to joining us.  I thought of little Bartie and pictured myself feeding the ducks with them or reading them bedtime stories. I thought of the sleepless nights and looking after him or her if they were sick. When the horse threw me I realised I hadn’t even been watching the track.  It all hit me again only a few hours ago.’ Brad held her tight, and Drake drew little circles on her hand, then lifted it to his lips to kiss it.

‘When I was told it hadn’t even been a possibility, I felt – so stupid, and so guilty for making you both worry so much. It was as if there had been – a little girl, or a little boy, and he or she had – just disappeared.  Before that, I’d never really thought about being a mother.  At all.’ She stopped, and Brad spoke instead.

‘I thought the same thing.’ he said quietly. ‘But I thought talking about it would only upset you. I’ve always seen myself as a father. It comes with the territory. I have to provide an heir.’

‘How could we be so stupid? ’Drake said bitterly ‘All feeling the same and saying nothing.’

‘Well, we’re talking now’ said Lucy ‘and we have plenty of time to think about starting a family for real after the doctor told me to wait a few months. That’s probably a good thing.’

‘We can call the wedding off for now.’ said Drake. ‘I only want you to be well and happy’ Lucy smiled and squeezed his hand.

‘What would make me happy is for everyone to acknowledge you as my partner.’ she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. ‘Everyone – nobles, and citizens, and the rest of the world. Calling the wedding off is not an option.’ Brad spoke up next.

‘I’m sorry - we’ve failed you, Lucy. I promise the wedding will be stress free. The only thing you have to do is choose your dress, we can take care of everything else.’

‘I was going to wear the one I already had.’

‘Well actually, you need to speak to Hana, she has an idea. I’ll go and get her.’ said Brad. Lucy cuddled up to Drake, who held her tight and stroked her hair.

‘You can tell me anything.’ he murmured. ‘any time, you know that.’

‘Thankyou. Let’s just enjoy being alone and quiet, that’s all I want right now.’ Before long Hana appeared, and Lucy smiled at her friend, untangling herself from Drake’s embrace.

‘Lucy, it was going to be a surprise, but I’ve designed a wedding dress for you.’ Hana said. ‘I was going to give it to you on the morning of the wedding, but if you’d like, I can show you now, and we can make any alterations we need to. It would be rather stressful doing it last minute like I’d planned.’

‘Hana, you are just amazing. I tell you what – I’ll try it on – blindfold – and you can fit it, and it will still be a surprise.’

‘That sounds as if it could work. Let’s get to it right now.’

#drake walker #king liam #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #drake x mc #drake x liam #liam x mc #trr #choices trr

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

#royaiweek day 5: home(coming) // world war II au

POST-WAR BLUES

ao3//ff.net

'Cause they say home is where your heart is set in stone

Is where you go when you're alone

Is where you go to rest your bones

It's not just where you lay your head

It's not just where you make your bed

As long as we're together, does it matter where we go?

-          Gabrielle Aplin “Home”

ROY

By the end of the war, Roy makes Captain.  It does not hold any particular significance, as there are no longer actively fighting and he won’t be in military  anymore, but he is given this rank as an award for “countless successful missions”, “unusual acts of bravery on the battlefield” and for “ wit and strategic thinking of truly unique kind- at least that’s what the official letter from general command states.  All of his superiors agree that he well deserved it and all of his colleagues congratulate him, loudly demand a celebratory round of drinks and then jokingly call him “sir” for a day or two.

And Roy… well.

It feels very wrong somehow, to be given promotions for dropping bombs on the cities.

He boards the train home along with Maes, leaving Breda and Fuery on the crowded station in London and parting with Falman and Havoc a few stops later.  They pass small towns and forests and fields on their way and as Maes falls asleep with Gracia’s letter laying on his knees, Roy stares out of the window and thinks about coming back home.

His mother will be there, waiting for his train; he is sure of that. She’s mad at him, but not so mad not to welcome him back. And Mimi will be there too, by mother’s side. He’s sure his little sister must’ve changed through all those years but it’s hard to imagine that she’s not a girl anymore. That she no longer wears two braids, no longer sneaks out to wander through the woods and would not follow him wherever he goes with the puppy devotion.

Both his mother and Mimi will wear black and there will be an empty space right where his father should be standing.

And of course, the whole village will be there, whether waiting for their loved ones to come home or watching other’s loved ones coming home with bittersweet envy.  Mrs. Jones from the bakery and miss Poppy from the school and all of the women from the church’s choir and Mister Haviland who lost his leg in the first Great War and escaped enlisting into part two of it.

And there will be Riza. She will come. She will come with her head held high, against gossips of the town, against his mother’s poisonous glances and her father curses. She will come and wait for him, with her hands bare and no shame whatsoever.

God, he missed her. He missed her so bad that this yearning has taken a form of physical pain somewhere in his chest. No bullet could ever hurt as much as being away from Riza for so long.

He has even a proof of that.

Lucky charms are abundant in an army during the war; whether it’s a photograph of their loved ones ( or photographies, as plural, in case of Maes) or some object, like a pack of disgusting, cheap cigarettes favored by Havoc or a worn-out pocket size bible of Falman’s. Even men that could never be called superstitious held something special to them close at all times.  No matter how reasonable and grounded you are, the moment you are up in the air and see Messerschmitts on the horizon, every rational thought flies out of the window. You may know that those special items don’t really do anything, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?

Roy was not an exception from this rule and was not particularly ashamed of that, although he wasn’t sure this object could be called a lucky charm in a strict definition of this term. Sometimes he thought of it as of a  lifeline, connecting him to a person he used to be before he left to join this horrible, pointless war; as of some kind of a link that he could hold on to when he felt he was about to slip into insanity any moment.                                                                                                          

  It was a small, wooden chess piece, white paint peeling off it, hole drilled through its middle so that he can wear it on a chain around his neck.

A queen, that he snatched from the table one August day and hid in his pocket, without understanding why he did so.  

Every time he raised his hand up and found its familiar shape underneath his shirt it was almost as if he was back home again, sitting on the wooden porch of Hawk’s Nest, Riza in front of him;  biting on her lower lip and thinking about her next move, eyes fixed on the board and unaware that he cannot, for dear life, stop staring at her.

He had some more mementos in the base during the war; a thick stack of letters from his parents and a small bouquet of dried primroses from his sister; Riza’s yellow ribbon that she wore on her wide-brimmed hat when she went to send him off on the train station; some photographies; his journal. But for some reason, the chess piece was the thing that he felt most connected to.

He loves his mother, loves his sister and loved his father dearly. They are his family and he owes them everything. No matter how at odds he is with his mom, he knows she’ll be waiting for him at the station and he will wrap her up in a hug and feel like a little boy again.

But as the train whistles sharply and starts to slow down, making its way towards the familiar stop at snail’s pace- as he thinks of home, all he can think about are warm, brown eyes and the lovely face of the girl that agreed to marry him, before he set the world on fire. He doesn’t deserve her hand, now more than ever, but damn. If he’s alive when so many others are dead, he’s gonna use the rest of his life trying to become better for her.

With a small smile on his lips and holding the white queen in his hand, he smacks Maes’ thigh to wake him up and stands up to reach for his suitcase.

RIZA

By the time she reaches the train station, Riza’s dress is drenched with sweat, her fringe is plastered to her forehead and she’s so nervous that she’s afraid her heart will just jump out of her chest and fall in front of Roy’s feet.

It’s a beautiful June day; the sun is shining brightly on the clear sky, sheep look like clouds of white, their fur slowly growing back after April shearing. But Madeline’s calf had hurt his leg sometime during the night and then she had had to manage the small crisis in chicken coop - and ended up just barely managing to finish all of her duties on time this morning. She had run through almost whole 6 miles long way from Hawk’s Nest to the station and cursed the sun the whole time.

But it’s still so good to be here, to get her hands dirty, to numb the voices in her head with the grueling physical work.  After she came back from London in early April, she found the farm in such bad that she has spent a few following weeks just working and sleeping, working and sleeping. A blissful escape from thinking, if anyone asked her. Maybe her muscles were burning and angry blisters were forming on her hands, but at least she did not have to sit in the office the whole day and type and type and type, the letters forming names and surnames, each one meaning someone was not coming home anymore.

At least she didn’t fall asleep with the images of burning planes spiraling down and crashing into the sea. At least she didn’t wake up each day with the excruciating pain that she will hear “Roy  Mustang” through the radio.

Thank God for small blessings.

She was not in London anymore. She was home, standing in front of the train station, with her hair messy and the hole in her stocking, waiting for Roy’s train to arrive.

For the millionth time she recalls the last time she saw him; at the party, his parents held for when he went on his first and last leave, just after completing the training and before starting serve. They had spent the first hour or so politely conversing about his military life and her transcribing course, circling each other cautiously and acting as strangers.

He was wearing his uniform and she was wearing this blue dress with buttons that she doesn’t have anymore because it became too big when she has lost weight. She thinks she has given it this one pregnant friend of Rebecca, but she’s not sure.

They were chatting about everything and nothing as if there was nothing between them as if he has never kissed her, as if she has never kissed him back – and then he offered her his hand and pulled her towards his childhood bedroom.

She closes her eyes and yes, she still remembers it all so clearly; the trumpets in the song playing downstairs, his slicked-backed hair and dark eyes, so honest and more serious than she has ever seen him before. How he dropped on one knee and leaned his forehead on the knuckles of her left hand, the rich timbre of his voice, quietly asking her to please, allow him the joy of marrying her.

And her soft, breathy “yes”.

How could she even do anything else but agree?  She could never deny Roy anything he would ask for.

She smooths out the wrinkles on her skirt, takes a deep breath and pushes the glass doors; the train station is crowded, full of those lucky ones who get to see their sons and fiancés and brothers come home. She, with her sweaty palms and serious face, sticks out as a sore thumb.

She spots Mrs. Mustang in the crowd with no problem; clad all in black, with face obscured by the widow’s veil she puts a little distance between her and everyone else, back straight and hands laced. She is the epitome of grace, even with this bittersweet air of half-sadness, half-joy surrounding her. Riza doesn’t dare to step closer; the last time they talked she received a firm slap on the cheek and a clear signal that she would never be welcomed into this family, no matter how insistent Roy was on marrying her.

Riza sacrifices a minute or two to go through her old list of reasons why Lilian Mustang hates her; she is poor, her father is mad, her mother is dead, her farm is ruined. She is nothing but debt and trouble. She has – or at least had, now, that the war is over-  a job. She hunts. She wears pants sometimes. She’s not a virgin.

And the one at the root of it all; she stole her darling son from her. She’s been stealing him, piece by piece, for years, long before they were found in those raspberry bushes, drunk in each other.

But Riza can do nothing about it and she has already spent too much time dwelling on that, so she shakes it off, trying instead to focus on Mimi.  Roy’s younger sister grew up so much while Riza stayed in London, that she barely looks like the same person; she’s so tall now, with the  same black hair as all of the Mustang’s tied in a ponytail and wearing modest gray dress that belongs to a woman, not a girl she used to be not so long ago. Gone are the plump knees and chubby cheek -  Mimi has cheekbones now, sharp, sculptured, giving her face a mature look of a movie star. She’s standing next to her mother, scanning the crowd with her blue eyes and when she spots Riza, her mouth curves into a small smile and she discretely waves her with the tips of her gloved fingers.

Riza returns the gesture; how she would love to talk with Mimi.  Give her a hug, offer condolences, run barefoot through Mustang’s peach orchard and make flower crowns out of daisies again.

But not today. Maybe never; maybe too much time has passed, maybe there are too different now to act like those happy-go-lucky little girls again.

Then, there is a whistle, a whine, a hollow sound of metal rolling on another metal. Somebody shouts, somebody starts to cry; people push towards the tracks, pushing one another out of their way,

And Riza stays frozen, her back glued to the wall of the station’s building, all at one drowning in the whole ocean of emotions, a wild current of them pulling her under.

Suddenly, she’s scared, she’s frightened, she’s terrified; her legs tremble and she clasps her hands together so tightly that her knuckles turn; somewhere at the back of her mind, her brain registers the taste of metal on her tongue as she bits hard on her lower lip.

Roy, Roy, Roy her blood hums his name in her ears.

What if he doesn’t want her anymore?

Don’t be ridiculous she scolds herself. She’s not really afraid of that; she knows her boy. She knows his heart as well as her own. Roy could never look at her like during this party if he didn’t want her. And although a lot can change during six long years, although they are different people now, each and every letter that he send her spoke of his loyalty and love and devotion – shouted about it, even –so clearly, that he could never fake it, could never lie to her like that.

He still wants her, still loves her. So why is she trembling? What is that that she’s so scared of?

The train slowly stops but Riza cannot hear anything but the names shouted by people.

“ Marcel” and “Thomas” and “Maes” and “Andrew” and-

“Roy!”

Mimi is standing on the bench, balancing on one leg and waving her handkerchief excitedly.

“Roy, Roy!” she shouts out, despite her mother tugging on her skirt, apparently demanding of her to stop. “Roy!”

Riza cannot see her face, but she’s sure Mimi’s crying; she sounds a bit teary and she was always likely to tear up while reading a romance novel or listening to a sad song.

There is a sea of people separating her from the train, so she’s not actually able to see how soldiers step out, but she spots this moment; the screams increase in volume and more people starts to cry and then Mimi jumps down, right into somebody’s arms-

And Riza is standing still, her feet rooted in the ground, her hands clenched into fists, her vision narrowed down to the dark head next to Mimi’s. He’s taller and broader than she remembers him; all of the other details are obscured by the crowd.

Some girl pushes through people next to her, running towards a man in glasses who drops down his backpack to catch her. Some woman has her arms around the tall guy in mid-twenties; she openly sobs into his chest and he looks down at her fondly. Some other couple is kissing. Some man gathers three kids from the ground all at once and spins with them around, their cheerful shrieks filling the air.

All this joy. All this happiness.

“Riza!”

Her heart stops.

“Riza!”

Her breath catches.

“Riza!”

He’s taller. And broader. Hair still unruly, eyes still dark and sparkling, although they were not bags underneath them before the war. Shirt stretching out on the muscles that didn’t use to be there.

Flushed cheeks that she remembers, the aura of self-confidence that’s new. A mixed of the Roy she knew and the Roy she will get to know.

She covers her mouth with her hands and closes her eyes. Tears spill down her face, cool against the heated skin.

“Roy.” She can barely recognize her voice when she whispers. “Roy.”

The war, the bombs, the planes, the bombing alarms, London and the lists of fallen-

All of the shouts in her head disappear when he pulls her into his arms, when he wraps himself around her, when he says her name like that – like a prayer, like a promise.

Before:

"You always refuse to sacrifice the queen.” She notices with a tint of humor in her normally-serious voice, playing with the loose strand of her hair and staring at her feet, instead of looking at him.

And he’s so stupid, stupid in the way grin splits his face, stupid in the way he can’t help but want with all of him to run his fingers through her hair.

“ Well, I’ve told you. Queen is important. She can do almost anything. If used in right way, she can decide on the outcome of the game.”

Are they still talking about chess?

Probably not.

The sun sets behind the hills and they watch it together, sitting on the steps in front of her house. It’s a summer evening, warm and smelling of sweet peaches and warm soil. Crickets are singing, a light breeze is making the wheat sway and swish.

He takes her hand in his, laces his finger with hers and she basks in this feeling; how he doesn’t shy away from her callouses and roughened skin, how warm and big his hand is. There is a sense of security in his touch. There is something stable, something grounded; you could build on a foundation like that.

She raises her head up to look at him and finds him already looking at her. He’s smiling softly, this smile making his eyes crinkle and shine; she can feel her cheeks turn pink. It is just a regular summer evening, one of so many they shared, but still, there’s something different in it, there’s some added weight hanging in the air.  It feels important. It feels like something they will recall twenty years from now.

And still, it’s just natural as breathing when he leans towards her and gently raises her chin up.

The sun is setting. The crickets are singing. The wheat is swishing. The old wood is creaking underneath their weight as they move.

“I’m home” he whispers in her ear.

#royaiweek2018 #royai week 2018 #royaiweek18 #royai #royai fanfiction #royai au #fma #fma:b #writing

[authoressskr]

I’m Gonna Shoot You Down, Jesse James

Written for: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian’s Divas of Storytelling Challenge

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Song: Just Like Jesse James by Cher

Characters: Reader (Hey, that’s you!), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Language, ugh, can’t think of anything else now except maybe subpar writing…

Summary: A brokenhearted witch decides to kill those who have dumped their significant other. You need to find her and gank her before anyone else dies. Too bad Dean is being an overprotective bitch.

Tagging: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian @lyndsay88 @thewhiterabbit42 @sdavid09 @lucis-unicorn

** Do Not Post/Copy/Share Anywhere, On Any Other Platforms, Without My Permission**

“So, I think I found a case.” Sam begins, joining Dean and yourself at the library’s first table, easing himself down into a vacant chair beside you. “Four men and one woman have had their hearts ripped out of their chests.”

“Werewolf?” Dean asks, looking up from his own laptop.

“Sounds like it.” You lean over, scanning through the article he has up.

“Uh, Sam?”

“Humm?” You tap at the bottom of the article.

“You read all this article?”

“No, just saw the headline and first paragraph.”

“You should have read it all. You’re really losing your touch, Sam. And you didn’t start with ‘So, get this’.” Sam gave you patented Sam Winchester bitch face while Dean chuckled. “One death was outside the club in full view of three witnesses, the other in her locked apartment - alone. This guy died in his car. Dude number three left the club to pick up his brother at work and his brother watched as he fell to the ground, leaning against his car, cigarette still in hand. And the last guy, one Kent Chandler, dropped dead at a liquor store. So, not sure that a werewolf could do that.”

“Witch?” Sam offers, pulling the laptop back in front of him, scanning through the full article. “Well shit. It’s got to be magic related.”

“We know how I feel about witches.” Dean murmurs, taking a long drink from his coffee before closing his laptop. “Well, get the witch killing bullets and the box of gloves and meet in the garage in thirty.”

“Gloves?” Sam asks, looking sideways at you, brow furrowed.

“Witches are nasty, man. Just grab the gloves.” You chuckle at Dean’s words then rise, heading for your room, hearing Sam faintly say “Shit, how’d I miss that?”

—

Luckily, the case was just a short four hour and some change drive from the Bunker, and you all got into town a little before one pm. After a quick stop at a motel to change - you refused to change in a truck stop bathroom, just outright refused - it was straight into Fed mode, which revealed that the hearts had exploded out of their chests. You may or may not have smirked at Sam after that fact was revealed.

And after thanking the very rude coroner, who smelled of tobacco and too much Axe body spray, you all exited the hospital, Sam and Dean exchanging those damn mind-melding looks they always shared.

“What?” You huffed, pausing at the Impala with your fingers brushing the chrome handle, looking from Dean beside you to Sam across the hood.

“Seems familiar.” Sam answered, bracing his elbows on the hood.

“That was Famine. When the couple ate each other.”

“The couple what?”

“Famine made them hungry for love.” Dean explained. “It was all-consuming, thus, ya know, they consumed.” A look of revulsion crossed your face.

“That’s disgusting and very disturbing.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean agreed, clicking his tongue afterward. “What about a borrower witch?”

“None of the corpses have been reanimated. And if it was a borrower witch, why destroy the hearts?”

“Were-pire?”

“Again, why destroy the hearts?” Dear Lord, this could go on forever.

“Let’s just start at the club. That’s the common link they all shared, well the only one I could find.” You suddenly have both their attention, Dean pursing his lips as he gave you an appreciative nod.

“Good job, darlin’.”

“Darlin’.”& You tease, watching Dean’s mouth open and close before you open the door and slip into the backseat. Sam’s soft chuckle fills the car for a split second before the Impala’s loud rumble drowns it out.

—

The manager, Trixie, informs Dean that yes, all the victims did visit the club before their untimely deaths. But that she’s been cooperative with the local police and she’d be more than happy to help with whatever he may need. Of course, she would. If it involved being on her back.

You roll your eyes and wander over to the bartender who is prepping for tonight’s opening behind the bar, leaving Sam with his brother.

“Hello. I’m Agent Tyler. Just wanted to see if you’d seen anything suspicious leading up to any or all the deaths? Maybe you noticed something about the gentleman who died just outside?”

“Well, Agent, sexy first name, by the way, it’s like I told the -”

“Are you really going to make me go back and read every single statement instead of just telling me?” His chuckle is deep, amused.

“Naw, I’ll tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spend all night reading those statements instead of talkin’ to little old me. I’d like to know your first name though, get a bit friendly.”

“Uh-huh. You tell me yours first.”

“Gregor.”

“If your last name is Clegane, then I’m obliged to tell your brother where you are.” His laughter gets the attention of Dean, Sam, and Trixie, all of whom frown at you two.

“Oh, we’re in trouble now.”

“Pretty par for the course for me. I’m Y/N.”

“Pretty. Real pretty.”

“Thank you. Now, Gregor, anything you can remember? Nothing is too small.”

“Well the guy who died outside, he had - I don’t know - a half dozen shots of tequila before he did the open mic slash karaoke thing we have Wednesday through Saturday. Sunday through Tuesday nights we have a house band. He was celebrating being single again, he did mention that before he sang. A couple women approached him, and he got their numbers before he went outside to take a phone call. One of the waitresses, Darcy, was outside having a smoke. Didn’t see anything, since she was by the side door of the bar, but said she heard something squelch loud then screaming. Might wanna talk to her. She comes in about seven.” You nod, making bulletins about each fact Gregor had given. “And you should give me your card,” He flashes an easy, flirty smile. “In case I remember anything else.”

“Did all the victims do karaoke?” You ask, pulling out one of the fake FBI cards from your inner jacket pocket, holding it out to Gregor.

“Not that I can remember - just him.” He takes the card, flashing another smile before winking and tucking your card into his breast pocket.

Turning to head back to the boys, you nearly run smack into Dean.

“Whoa. Personal bubble.”

“We don’t have personal bubbles.” But he isn’t looking at you, and shooting a look over your shoulder you don’t see anything. Sam is sporting an amused look when you look to him for clarification. Whatever.

“When I’m all covered in goo and various substances you suddenly have a personal bubble. And I think I got a new lead. Or at least a way to draw whoever it is out.”

“Y/N.” You turn to find Gregor’s returned and is leaning on the bar top. “Trixie keeps the sign-up sheets for a couple weeks. Might be helpful.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mountain.”

“Anytime, Agent.”

“If you’re done.” Dean growls, his hand on the small of your back pushing you forward quickly.

“Who knew the reason those pretty eyes of yours were green was ‘cause they’re filled with jealousy.”

“I. Am. Not. Jealous.”

“Sure.” Sam agrees, sarcasm evident in his tone.

“And I’m Aphrodite.” You reply snidely, sidestepping his pushy self and heading back over to where Trixie stood.

“Hi. Dean here wanted to know if we could have copies of the sign-up sheets for the past couple weeks? He’s very thorough.”

“Oh, I bet he is. Give me two shakes and I’ll be right out with them.” Of course, she doesn’t respond to you, but to Dean, flashing overly white teeth as she saunters out of the main bar area.

“Now who’s jealous?” Dean breathes against your ear, sending shivers down your spine and an errant giggle from your lips.

“Stop that!” You hiss. “Now isn’t the time for your flirting. Or breathing on my ear when you know that makes me laugh!” You elbow him gently. “And I’m not jealous, Dean. Just shocked at your lack of standards.” He’s got that smug smile plastered on when Trixie returns and you don’t bother to stay, turning on your heel with Sam close behind.

—

As luck would have it, just the man, Eric Root, sang that night.

But the local police were on it. They’d investigated their personal lives pretty damn well and each one of the victims had just broken up with their significant other.

And said significant others all sang the night before or the night of each respective death.

“Ha!” You shout triumphantly, pushing your notepad over to Sam who sat across from you. “It’s a witch. The witch is offing the people who hurt the singers.” Dean rises from where he was sitting against the headboard, looking over Sam’s shoulder at your notes. He makes a noncommittal noise as Sam begins typing away. “What? It makes sense! Each of the hurt parties sang a sad or powerful song and then the person that broke up with them suddenly has their heart expelled from their chest. We need to go tonight and sing. It’ll draw the witch out and we gank it.”

“Uh, we don’t sing.” You roll your eyes, standing as you smile down at Sam.

“I can.”

“No.” Dean’s voice is firm, like a father telling a child they can’t have more ice cream.

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist.” He smirks and reaches forward to wrap an arm around your waist.

“Dean Fucking Winchester, if you don’t remove your damn hands I will kick your ass into next week. Being your normal, flirty asshole self is difficult enough to handle without you telling me what I can and can’t-do!” You shove his arms off you, then shove him backward with a glare before grabbing your purse and phone from the table and storming out the door.

—

She’d returned nearly an hour later, refusing to look at Dean as she grabbed a change of clothes from her duffle and locking herself in the bathroom.

“Dude, you should apologize.”

“What for?”

“Come on, Dean. You know why. You love her.” Dean scoffs, finishing his beer. “You’ve been flirting with her since we met her. And she has yet to succumb to anything you’ve thrown at her. She’s not like the other girls you pick up at the bar or diner or wherever, Dean. Y/N flirts with you to deflect. She likes you, you idiot. But you gotta stop handling her with kid gloves. The last couple cases you’ve been more overbearing than usual. Especially with her. She’s been hunting since she was 22. Y/N is more than capable. I know you don’t want her to get hurt - neither do I - but you can’t…”

“I know!” Dean snaps, tossing the empty bottle across the room into the trash can. He runs his hands through his hair, giving it a few sharp tugs. “The last couple cases - man, I don’t want to be like Dad was with you, but I can’t fucking help it. When we were hunting those ghouls in Boise and they sliced her arm, so close to her artery, I panicked. What if she’d died, Sam? Who is going to hang their underwear all over the bathroom? Who’s gonna be up at 2 in the morning, a cold cup of tea on the table because she fell asleep before finishing it again? Who else is going to out-lore you? All those thoughts just rushed forward - and they haven’t left, Sam.”

“Dean, we have all had close calls. You and I have died more than our fair share. We’ll keep her safe, just like we always do. But, you gotta tell her, Dean. And we have to let her do this for this case.”

The door swung open, revealing Y/N - her hair was tousled, lips painted a dark pink and jeans hugging every curve while a dark gray top clung to her breasts, scooped down to give a good view.

“I’ll see you at the club.” She muttered, walking to her purse beside her duffle, searching through it for her ID and a couple twenties. When she turned around, Sam was standing in front of the door. “Come on Sam, not you too.”

“No, princess, we’re all going together.” Dean answered, shrugging on his jacket before heading towards the door, handing Sam his before shooting you that cocky smile, but his eyes weren’t the same. “If you play your cards right, I’ll bring you home with me.” Y/N took the olive branch, reaching out to give Dean’s upper arm a firm squeeze.

“I think you mean if you play your cards right, Winchester.” Sam rolled his eyes but flashed a tight smile as you brushed past them and settled into the Impala. But the tense atmosphere was still there, lingering on the edges.

—

“So, I’ve narrowed it down to these two women.” You hand the pictures to Sam, leaning on the back of the seat. “They both were there, doing karaoke, every night that someone died. I double checked the lists. These two, Marcia and Ashley, are consistently there.” You take a deep breath before huffing it out. “You know, I kinda wish there was a witch-detector spell. Make the job a whole lot easier.”

Sam huffs out his agreement before handling the pictures to Dean. Dean looks them over then nods, pushing them across the seat back to Sam.

“You say the word, Y/N, and we corner the witch and gank her. Got it? Don’t -”

“Put myself in unnecessary danger. I know Dean. You’ve been playing that particular record for the last month and a half. I’m always careful.” You reach out, squeezing his left shoulder, feeling him relax minutely under your fingertips. You withdraw your hand, easing back against the seat and smirking. “Maybe you’ve just gotten sweet on me, Dean Winchester.”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

Those five words shoved the knife in deep. And that stupid, patronizing nickname he called waitresses and a few snippy monsters. The name he had never called you before.

This… This ache now flared up inside you.

It was worse, so much worse than all the flirty banter, all the touching, fuck - everything else.

Sweetheart.

You were happy when the car pulled up outside the club, throwing open the door and escaping from the Winchesters and those five stupid words that were rattling around in your head.

—

You made your way to the bar, desperately needing a shot of anything to slow down the whirling of thoughts in your head. You should have known better than to have feelings for Dean “I Don’t Know How to Keep it in My Pants” Winchester. Maybe you should leave once you returned to the Bunker…

You’d figure that out after the case. No one else would die on your watch.

A quick call to Trixie while you’d been out cooling down had placed you in the middle of tonight’s roster so you’d have time to locate the potential witch, sing to draw her out, and then hopefully seclude and gank her murdering ass.

“Another Lady Mormont? Or would it be Lady Brienne?” You chuckle as Gregor pours you another, winking.

“I would like to think I’m a nice mix of both, but more of a Brienne.”

“Well, I shall be back shortly. My lady.” He nods, grinning widely before heading off to your left to help some other customers.

You phone dings and you tug it from your back pocket.

+  Sam: We have eyes on both the women.  +

You throw back the shot, fighting the cough that manifests as it burns down your throat.

Trixie chooses to appear before you can type out a response to Sam, so damn cheerful and perky as she clutched her clipboard. Jesus.

“So, we have a couple people who need a later slot, so you’ll be up next.” She peers at the clipboard, missing the wide-eyed stare you give. “Well, not next-next. After this lady finishes, there is a gentleman who is singing and then it’ll be you!” You nod at her, giving her your most convincing smile - hopefully - then turn back to the bar and order a plain water as you hear the last chords of Faith Hill’s ‘The Way You Love Me’ ring out. Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!

You hadn’t sung publicly since you were in your high school choir and the nerves (and alcohol) were making your stomach flutter, twirl, and knot. You left what was left of your water at the bar, edging closer to the stage since the gentleman was already half-way through his odd rendition of Styx’s ‘Come Sail Away’.

The song you’d chosen, it’d been playing in your head for the last few weeks. You’d hit shuffle on your iPod right after Dean had snapped at you after the ghoul case. And really, no other song had seemed so perfect a fit.

“Give a warm welcome to a karaoke virgin, Y/N Tyler!” You swallowed hard, taking the offered microphone and standing mid-stage, chose a spot just above the crowd to focus and worked on channeling your inner-Cher. With a nod to the woman manning the soundboard, you inhale deeply, bouncing slightly on the balls of your feet as the song began.

You’re struttin’ into town like you’re slingin’ a gun

Just a small-town dude with a big city attitude

Honey are you lookin’ for some trouble tonight

Well alright

You think you’re so bad, drive the women folk wild

Shoot ‘em all down with the flash of your pearly smile

Honey but you met your match tonight

Oh, that’s right

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'Til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cryin’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby show me what that loaded gun is for

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gone break it’s going to take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gone win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Dean moved away from his place leaning against the back wall, keeping an eye on Ashley temporarily forgotten as he stared at you like he’d never seen you before. He’s spellbound as you run your hands through your messy hair, this fire suddenly lighting up your eyes before they close momentarily as you sing, opening them as you shoot the crowd one of those sexy innocent smiles he was always hoping you’d direct at him.

You’re an outlaw lover and I’m after your hide

Well you ain’t so strong, won’t be long 'til your hands are tied

Tonight, I’m gonna take you in

Dead or Alive

That’s right

You break the laws of love in the name of desire

Take ten steps back

'Cause I’m ready baby

Aim and fire

Baby, there’s nowhere you going to run tonight

Ooh That’s right

Well you’ve had your way with love but it’s the end of the day

Now a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby you know there ain’t nothing left to say

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

+  Sam to Dean: Holy shit. Did you know she could sing like that?!  +

+  Sam to Dean: You are so beyond screwed. I kinda hope she eats you alive after this.  +

You think you’ll knock me off my feet

'til I’m flat on the floor

'Til my heart is cry in’ Indian and I’m begin’ for more

So, come on baby

Come on baby

Come on baby

Come on

If you can give it

I can take it

'Cause if this heart is gonna break it’s gonna take a lot to break it

I know tonight

Somebody’s gonna win the fight

So, if you’re so tough

Come on and prove it

Your heart is down for the count and you know you’re gonna lose it

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

Tonight, you’re gonna go down in flames

Just like Jesse James

I’m gonna shoot ya down Jesse James

The bar loses its collective shit.

There are hoot and hollers, shouts of “You OWNED that!” and a couple “Cher would be proud, honey!” along with lots of loud applause ringing out around you. You fight the heat rising in your cheeks, raising a hand in recognition and scurrying off the stage as fast as you can manage without looking too desperate.

All the nerves make you beeline for the restroom, stopped every couple feet from the stage by people who are congratulating you on an amazing, heartfelt performance. You nod and thank them for their kind words, hurrying to relieve your bladder.

When you exit the stall, Marcia is leaning against the sink closest to the door. A quick glance confirms the fact that she’s locked the door. Well so much for sneaking up on the witch…

You wash your hands calmly, taking the paper towel she offers as her mouth stretched into a wide, Cheshire grin.

“You were pretty damn good up there, Agent.” She taps a sunflower yellow nail against her chin thoughtfully. “Or should I say, Hunter?” You clench your jaw but say nothing, waiting and trying to formulate a plan. Other than one of the Winchesters were gonna get their ass handed to them for this little slip-up. “The others, they sang with the same emotion and depth you did. They were underappreciated. Not unlike myself. My coven didn’t appreciate the power I brought to the table. My mother didn’t think I was smart enough to run the family business. And my dear husband, well he didn’t love me how I should be loved. How you should be loved. The one with green eyes, the one who was flirting with the female bartender, oh, and the waitress when you all went to lunch. And let’s not forget the second guy’s ex - he doesn’t love you. Not how you want - or deserve. I simply want to remedy that.” She chuckles, pushing away from the sink and moving to block the exit.

“Y/N, you know I’m not the bad guy. He fucks every woman who will let him - and let’s face it - with those good looks, not many women are saying no. And every hookup, every smirk, smile and flirty line, they just end up as tiny wounds in your heart. I want him to feel that. To understand the ache you feel. That’s why I already left him a little present.”

“You can’t make people love you. You can’t make someone pay for something that happens a million times a day all over the world. Heartache happens. It’s what makes us human - that vulnerability, that need to be loved - and I will not let you hurt another person simply because you believe yourself to be in the right!” You’re moving forward before the last word tumbles from your lips, quickly chanting out a basic protection spell as you pull the gun and silencer from your back and put a single witch-killing bullet into her heart.

+  Y/N to Sam: Witch ganked. Paging Cas to get rid of the body. Meet me by Baby.  +

Cas answers your prayer quicker than usual, disappearing with her body less than a handful of seconds after you’d explained the situation. You exit the bathroom in a damn near sprint, rushing out into the chilly night air. Thank God, you’d shoved a pair of gloves into your front pocket!

Sam and Dean are leaning against the Impala as you yank the too-big gloves on, planting yourself firmly before Dean, hands sliding into his right inner jacket pocket.

“Y/N - what are you…” You don’t bother to answer Dean, moving to the outside pockets before sweeping your hands over his ass, your brow furrowed as he clears his throat. “What couldn’t wait to get your hands on me, Y/N??”

“Oh yes, Dean. Hexed dudes are so hot. Take me now.” Each word is dripping with sarcasm, rolling your eyes as your hands slip into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Really, Y/N? Like the hex bag is gonna be in there?” Sam gives a sharp whistle and you stop, looking up at the hex bag he’s dangling from the edge of his pocket knife.

“You ass! I thought you were in danger!”

“That why you gave my ass a firm squeeze when you were sifting through my empty pockets?” You want to punch him, you really do; a) because you didn’t think to squeeze that fine ass when you were rummaging through his pockets and b) you thought he was in danger and they both knew he wasn’t. You take a calming breath, tugging off the gloves and tossing them at Sam’s face.

“Well, I suppose you were right, Dean. Your jeans are pretty tight, but ya know, better safe than sorry.” You move around Sam and Dean, both standing there gaping at you. They knew your temper, how to rile you up. And normally you tended to take the bait. But after the whirlwind of emotion you’d been through today, in particular, you didn’t have it in you to play. Sliding into the back seat you wait for a few seconds before rolling the back window down. “We headed out to burn that thing or are you gonna stand there?”

—

The ride to the motel is quiet.

Sam makes quick work of burning the hex bag in the metal ice bucket, Cas popping in about twenty minutes later to hear the full details of the case. You excuse yourself to the bathroom, rinsing off the makeup and grittiness in the shower, and you let yourself cry a little too.

While the witch had been a crazed romance hating bitch, she’d been right. He’d never love you how you wanted. But you were also right - you couldn’t make Dean love you. And really, you wouldn’t want that. Dean had mentioned (once you had come to his room one night with your laptop open to a Supernatural fan site you had stumbled on) that Becky had given Sam a love spell, convinced him to marry her. That wasn’t what you wanted at all.

You blow dry your hair just to buy more time in case your eyes are still puffy. Exiting the bathroom, you’re more than a little surprised to see your packed duffle and purse on the bed closest to the door. Sam and Cas are missing, Dean leaning against the little partition wall by the door.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed anything for the drive home.”

“Just my headphones.” You reply, pulling them from your purse’s side pocket and tucking them into your sweatpants pocket before reaching for your bags.

“I got it.” Dean moves forward, hand out to take them from you.

“I already have them, Dean. Just please open the door. Is the trunk open?”

“Yeah, it’s open.” He leaves enough room for you to pass by, enough to be polite at least and slams the door shut behind him. You set your bags into the trunk, ignoring his little outburst. Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow as you settle into the back seat with Cas, giving him a cheery hello and thank you before shrugging at Sam. You pop in your headphones and stare out the window, about to let Josh Groban lull your too tired mind to sleep when the door is suddenly wrenched open, Dean’s big hands reaching inside to grab you. Letting out a startled squeak, you instinctively push his hands away, but he’s got a hell of a grip on your forearm. He pushes you a lot more gently that you thought he would up against the car, his lips brushing gently against your own.

You jerk away like you’ve been burned.

“What the fuck?!” You shout, Sam and Cas shooting out of the car. “Huh? First, you’ve been pissy flirty with me since that ghoul attack now you haul me out of the car and kiss me?!” Shoving at his chest, you search his face. Those candy apple green eyes bore into your own, the rest of his face melting from worried to contemplative to relaxed.

“I- I can’t lose you. I care about you. Maybe a little too much. That ghoul attack, it - it fucked me up. I just kept thinking, what if you died? There isn’t going to be any more damn underwear hanging all over the bathroom. No more getting up 2 in the morning to find you passed out in the library with a cold cup of tea on the table. No more never-ending movie quotes - half of them from movies I’ve never even seen.” His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear like you usually tend to. “Who else was gonna shed everywhere? I mean, you shed worse than Sam. Who else is gonna make me those tiny pies and snap at me when I eat most of them? Which, I stand by this, they are equal to one whole pie.”

“You shouldn’t be eating a whole pie either, Dean!” The fingers that just tucked the hair behind your ear move to brush over your cheek, a smile stretched across his face.

“You were right. I am sweet on you. Have been since day one. Didn’t succumb to any of my lines, any of my dazzling smiles or nicknames. Hell, the first couple times we hunted, you wouldn’t give me the time of day. And, well, I like a challenge.” Dean flashed an easy but knowing smile, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Whoa there.” You hear Sam chuckle behind you. “So, you think you get to be a dick to me for the last month but now I’m just going to fall into your arms? This isn’t a chick flick, even though I know you love them.”

“I don’t -”

“I’m not finished.” Dean straightened up at your sharp tone. You fisted your hands around the edges of his jacket, keeping him from pulling too far away. “I care about you too. And Sam. And Cas. I’ve been hunting since I was 22 and I’m pretty good at it.”

“I didn’t say -” You give him a pointed look, watching him close his mouth and huff.

“I don’t need you to protect me, but I do appreciate it when you guys have my back. We’ve all had close calls. I nearly bled out six years ago hunting a murderous Shedu. We’re hunters, Dean. My life isn’t guaranteed. But if you pull your head out of your ass, I will continue to leave my underwear hanging out to dry in the bathroom. And shed all over the clothes and you won’t complain because I’m the one doing the damn laundry.” You raise up a little on your feet, using your grip on Dean for balance. “I’ll consider making you pie once you’ve apologized to me properly. And you will never call me sweetheart ever again. Oh, and dial the overprotectiveness down a couple notches. If you let Claire hunt, you should -” Dean cut off the rest of your sentence with his lips. His arm moved as you two pulled away, those nice, big hands gripping the back of your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him as he lifted you up. “You think I’m just going to sleep with you now?!”

“We’ll see you in the morning!” Dean calls out happily, shifting so his arm was firmly under your ass so he could use his right hand to open the motel door. Dean is about to kick the door shut when you hear Sam holler for you, catching the door before it closed. He holds up your purse, dropping it onto the table before rushing from the room with the Impala keys clutched firmly in his hand. Dean drops you onto the bed, watching you bounce with a grin then moving to lock the door.

“Now that we’re all alone, I believe I need to apologize.” Dean begins, shrugging out of his jacket and flannel. You swallow, nodding as you watch him. He reaches behind him, grabbing hold of the dark gray material and pulling it over his head, revealing a wealth of freckled and scarred skin. His hands move down to his belt, smirking as he watches your eyes take him in. “Or maybe I’ll just do like you sang. Just go down in flames, since you already have me crying Indian and begging for more.”

“So, a team of wild horses couldn’t drag your heart away, Jesse James?”

“Nope, I met my match.”

“Does that mean I won the fight?” You ask as he crawls over you, cupping his stupidly handsome face.

“Yeah, princess, you won.”

“Good. Then get ready for a long night of apologetic cuddling, Winchester.”

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